Best Bleaker Poems
Grab that whimsey, don't wipe the blow.
The feeling, of fear, starts to grow
Creepy tendrils that dart around
In your head, they can't be bound
Unleash the power of your poetry,
That is what empowers the poet free.
Let it flow from heart to page,
And let your imagination rage.
Sunlight illuminates the abyss of my heart.
But gloom lurks, for betrayal shreds apart.
The simplicity that I used to consider dear.
Leaving me stranded and packed with fear.
An emptiness consumes my soul,
Yet an urge to write, to brand me whole,
To pour out my pain, my sorrow,
To find a glimmer of cheer for tomorrow.
My pen becomes my only friend,
As I strain to comprehend
The reasons behind the deceit,
The lies that brought me to defeat.
But in my words, I find a way,
To heal, to mend, carpe diem the day,
To rise above the welt and pain,
To find the light, to love again.
The valley of my heart may be scarred,
But with my pen, I can rebuild, discard
The darkness that once held me down,
And rise up, stronger, without a frown.
Stop resisting and start writing.
The pen is bleaker than the sword.
Each draw, each stroke, each sighting.
Unshackle the force of your words.
Categories:
bleaker, analogy, inspiration, muse,
Form:
Rhyme
Standing next to a fire hydrant
Alone
Sitting on a park bench
Bothered by you
rather I be alone
Looking into a broken mirror
Cliche'
People bore me. That they do.
I'm a person so I am also quite
the
Drag
Silly vagrants honking horns, fancying party favors
Yuck
Find me eyed on my lap,
Glued to boring my old shelf
back
Together
All are you completely wrong about us
I am so about this.
Watching look that faces have right now.
Right now is when?
Tomorrow is yesterday while present in today.
Tomorrow
And Yesterday
Definitely Today
So, so lame
as you mock me my case I rest.
but I have too much to declare.
June 8, 2017
Contest: The Bleaker the Better
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Categories:
bleaker, crazy, dark, deep, humor,
Form:
Free verse
Think Again
I think of stuff all day
I think of stuff all night
Sometimes I think stupid
Sometimes I think bright
But I never think it wrong
Cos I am always right
At least that’s what the missus says
If we have a fight
I get ideas that turn out good
And some that turn out bad
Once I wrote a poem
That made me seem quite mad
I get all sorts of ideas
When it’s time for bed
No light bulb popped up ever
I think we’ve been misled
There’s never been a ‘Ping!’
As an idea hit my brain
No eyeball exclamation mark...
That would be insane
And if I ever find a cure
For a life that’s getting bleaker
I’ll take you on a bet...
I’ll never shout ‘EUREKA!’
But as a prosperous poet (yeah right)
Thoughts are my bread and butter
My notions come from angels hearts
And some from in the gutter
Sometimes when I cannot sleep
The thinking must be stopped
I lay awake to find a way
But the penny’s never dropped
Ideas float into my brain
But then sink like a brick
For each of Shakespeare’s sonnets
I write a limerick
One man designed a paper clip
And one an atom bomb
I guess we’ll never know
Where our deepest thoughts come from
Categories:
bleaker, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
Lament
Brooding days,
Vanquished in the unconnected gloom,
Shower frost,
Standing watch at dawn to pierce the morning
With an artic tempest,
Swirling ‘cross a land lost in forgetfulness:
Sighing
Beneath borderless views of snow unbroken,
Where nothing dare disturbs
The unchanging vision
But a single line of footprints
When skies of grey and bleaker daylight
Lean so close to earth
They lay their heaviness upon a homeless wood sprite
Wandering in the raw breath of twilight dawning,
Caught by phantom gusts
Spiraling down,
Shivering as the brumaled wind
Runs its fingers
Through the marrow of the soul
Where slumber languishes,
Icebound
As plodding steps
Frantically searching groves of tangled silver linden,
Pursued
And haunted
By the relentless midnight sun;
Errant fugitive,
Followed by the wispy remnants of a golden morning,
Trembling
As barren aspen branches
Beneath bright errant bursts of fiery lights -
Racing
Across
The northern sky -
Taunting
Tortured
Eyes
Seeing only to remember;
Grasping
For a single crocus
Plunged into yearning
Until the boreal shadows
Touch
The depth of darkness
Bidding nordic sprite to sit,
To rest,
Curled up against a frozen birch of black and white,
Taking final flight on tattered winds
Heralding the touch of sunlight.
Godspeed my friend
Categories:
bleaker, depression, sleep, snow, sorrow,
Form:
Free verse
My eyes are getting weaker,
Tho' I seem to see so much more.
My days are getting bleaker,
Tho' I laugh more oft than before.
A laughter so unnerving,
It seems an echo from the Dead,
With off-key music serving
To bait the phantoms in my head.
I see the creatures Helpful,
As they surround his final bed.
They sway in rhythm woeful
Of the transition close ahead.
I step aside; I'm knowing
That they don't want me in their way.
The tension keeps on growing.
I simply bow my head and pray.
I feel the body leaving,
But see it still upon the bed.
My heart begins its grieving.
His soul is gone, but he is dead.
Categories:
bleaker, death, goodbye, halloween, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
The answer used to come with great ease
My answer wasn’t an answer at all, but a complimentary question,
“What’s it like to not be a twin?”
I bypassed the story of the grape jelly on mom’s new carpet when we were toddlers,
The 8 years of elementary school and junior high where we shared a classroom,
In 8 years I never had to write down an assignment, she was the conscientious one,
I played the violin, she played the piano, when my brother came home from the seminary UNSUPPORTED CODE WE UNSUPPORTED CODE gave him a concert
We weren’t identical, she was the cautious one, I was the adventurer
She took a job in high school, and when time came to retire, she was still working for that company,
On the other hand I changed employers every few years, “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence”.
She never lived more than about 5 miles from our childhood home, yet in her travels to Europe she probably logged more passenger miles than I did including two tours of duty in Thailand and four on Guam.
Now I am alone, my coconspirator has passed on,
I’ll have to take blame for the jelly on the carpet, take down my own assignments, and do everything the same way that single birth people have always done.
What’s it like to be a twin?
It’s like no experience you have ever had, you’re always connected, you grow up with a built in playmate, you have someone that always takes a special interest in your wellbeing.
I realize all this now because she’s gone, now I see what it’s like to be a single birth and frankly, it’s a much bleaker existence than being a twin, to be more direct, being a single sucks, I want my twin back.
Categories:
bleaker, age, relationship, remember,
Form:
Free verse
The graying of days
Devouring of food becomes the filler !
Days healing rays, it’s light ever shorter !
Misty moments are becoming thicker !
Fog hangs heavy, becoming ever denser !
The rut I am in, becomes ever wider !
The grove I am stuck in, cuts ever deeper !
The abyss I am sinking into, ever bleaker !
The black hole I am sucked into. ever blacker !
The razor’s edge I walk upon, ever sharper !
It cuts ever deeper into the flesh, of my feet
as I walk the tight rope of life, in my sleep !
Awake, I wonder why ?. I hang onto this life,
a life that is going nowhere as I stand
upon the keen edges of it, of a knife.
A knife that seems to be in my own hand,
wanting, for all intents, to cut me in two.
During these moments, there is little I can do !
B. J. “A” 2
June 5th 2005
Categories:
bleaker, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Old age can be a lonely time for some;
friends fade to acquaintances; slip away.
Though your achievements bolster your resume,
they've stagnated with time and seem humdrum.
The atrocities of wars left you numb;
morals sink when hate is a stowaway.
And as the future gets bleaker each day,
you're left discombobulated and glum.
Children have lost the wonderment of youth,
comparing friends to likes; they interface.
Love's still spontaneous, but unlike hate,
it's an elusive, transitory truth.
Hypocrisy and lies are commonplace,
and death can seem a less frightening fate.
Categories:
bleaker, age, angst, anxiety, emotions,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
The weaker
the wine,
the bleaker
the swine.
Volodymyr Knyr
2014
Categories:
bleaker, animal, depression, drink, metaphor,
Form:
Couplet
Almost Christmas according to my calendar,
the stores are decorated and in a clamor;
snow falls in the frozen sky making days bleaker,
a beggar holds out his hand as people walk by.
In my church, red flowers and berries prettify,
all alone and quiet, I hum a lullaby;
pondering- the I want this and that till I cry,
people seem to forget what Christmas is about.
It is about a special baby, I want to shout,
wonder if people recall that at the checkout;
a baby born to die. Remember? I doubt-
a homeless man lies dead and people keep walking.
With shopping bags full they keep laughing and talking,
for this poor lost soul will anyone be praying;
yes, I will! And Jesus will take him up flying,
that baby born, that man who died upon a cross.
Remember him in all the Christmas wild chaos,
oh, the Christmas story is not all floss and gloss;
not about gifts, but about a son, a life lost,
almost Christmas according to my calendar.
_______________________
December 8, 2017
Poetry/Rhyme/Almost, Christmas Story
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9696-15-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Christmas Story, Theme 3
sponsor, Eve Roper
First Place
Categories:
bleaker, christmas, , Lullaby,
Form:
Rhyme
Like a stalking hoarse,
Have endured shrewd days and night,
Like the physician ampoule,
Ready on my skin to pour.
flights from ignorance left these
Strawberry marks,
Eyes glued on the object
compelled to the hard brown wooden logs in art,
And the iron in room "G02".
Friends and enemies unrelenting
awaits enticement,
numberless distraction as obstacles on my path,
beckoning to the banquet of misery,
as this dangling reputation slowly pace along undeterred.
ego gangs gauged and chokes to loose the prize
avalanche of invisible darts piercing from home and abroad,
but I, a pretty piece of flesh,
Stand aloof to watch a drama
With the ointments of the supreme being
Within my bowels,
Those that see the seals, demand the cause,
Of quietude in this world of madness.
As I stood aloof to watch the wretch mirth turns to mourn
Ah weary watcher, like you, I am a mere voyager,
on the route where the delight of the peasantry
Is wept into oblivion
There are dangerous curves
As we advance,
there are dangling arrows,
The old serpent is not dead,
he hides in ambuscades
The road becomes deeper and deeper,
The shades of the precipices fall bleaker and bleaker.
The clouds gather overhead,
Doleful voices
The way hardly discernible in this gloom
The path is dreary,
our feet too often wobble,
Heart ambushed by fiercest lust,
Yet, Firm stand I.
Not in my natural element
Categories:
bleaker, adventure, introspection,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I once heard a girl on Maury call her so-called husband a “motivational speaker”.
He pimped, cheated, and beat her.
But she said that he completed her.
Chuckling at the sight with who at the time I felt was Mr. Right.
Fully aware of the fact that is right now causing me to write.
His motivational speeches were to be awed.
To his every move and words I’d applaud.
Appreciative of the educational experiences and even the flawed.
To love someone who never reciprocated. To feel that it was forever when he’d already had it dated.
How to suck the life out of me and walk away to freedom he must’ve continuously contemplated.
Just wanted as much as he wishes he accumulated.
What was made could set a person for life.
But I wanted to be his wife.
Still he sold left and right.
I knew it wasn’t right.
But I wanted him all day and all night.
When times sparked an epiphany he knew just what to say and do to me.
Good or bad his motivation would get through to me.
Sometimes I’d be so happy. Most of the time I’d find blood shedding from me.
This from what consumed me completely.
For almost 4yrs I continued to grow weaker.
Everyday just seemed to grow bleaker.
For way too long, I couldn’t resist this motivational speaker.
Categories:
bleaker, abuse, adventure, betrayal, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Once again, the trees speak
in a soft and gentle whisper
while subtly dancing in the wind.
Then as witness to my indifference
it gusts a little louder, brushing branches
releasing leaves upon my head.
The cluster of the trunk reveals
black caped figures piercing through
screaming vocally to announce their presence;
A clutch of crows, large and boisterous
perch unsteady riders in the canopy
bobbing and cawing back and forth.
The trees remain immovable and regal
swaying gently waltzing in place
then brushing gently from south to north.
On the branches hangs the color of the season
giving way to changing hues of deep reds and purples
yellow oranges blowing freely floating on the downward fall.
To the ground comes hardness, empty non bearing gardens
as the naked barrenness begins to speak
a bleaker images soon to come to the silence of the trees.
Categories:
bleaker, leaving, tree,
Form:
Narrative
I had a friend who was to me
the very best a friend can be,
so loyal, warm and humorous,
a Cornish Celt to truly trust.
I see him now with smiling face,
so strong and fit to win the race,
the problems in our working days
diminished by his winning ways.
An educator, kind and caring,
valued knowledge always sharing
with all his students, most who knew
here was a teacher fair and true.
His talent was to harmonize
some fun and knowledge in their eyes,
humanity and Science combined
within his teaching, firm but kind.
And to his colleagues straight and true,
courageously expressed his view.
his pride of birth-right without rant
or bigoted degrading cant
Accepted without prejudice
what lesser men turn into vice.
so many warmed towards this man,
enchanted by the charm he span
And partnered by his loving wife
he welcomed friends into his life.
their table had the best of fare
for this man had a talent rare,
His cooking skills so finely honed
that many a chef could be dethroned
so proud my wife and I would be
when welcomed to their sanctuary.
Through working days a course we ran
deriving strength to carry on,
his wise words guided me to see
the best time when we both broke free
Work routine however worthy
never matching freedom’s journey,
Both found ourselves two new careers
though did not have close friendships cheer.
Then circumstances and neglect
reduced our contact and respect
and though we met from time to time
our friendship suffered a decline
I never thought the steps of time
approaching swiftly from behind
would overtake him in life’s race
and sickness claimed such strength and grace.
I'm one of many, this I know,
and not alone to miss him so,
but I've no faith to ease the strife
with promises of afterlife.
Of him past memories all that’s left
now I am of my friend bereft
with life a sadder, bleaker place
never again to see his face.
Categories:
bleaker, friendship,
Form:
Rhyme
The climate of planet earth has always been in a constant state of change, but modern science seems to have discovered a pattern of transformation that is very disturbing. Such revelations enable them to predict changes that will occur based on conditions that we mortals have created or have been a great contributor. Whether caused by natural processes over time or due to the reckless greed of mankind matters little, but the bigger question is whether or not we can effect a change, or is it really inevitable that we are ecologically and realistically doomed to annihilation. For at least half to three-quarters of my life, the government and the popular media have given me endless scenarios of, not possible but most probable catastrophic outcomes barring some drastic altering of mankind's current way of life. The kind of climate change that they foresee engenders a wildly ballistic mentality of anticipated pain and lasting misery of yet unheard of proportions, and it has the feel of a movie whose director and producer are prepared for mad dashes to high hills, mountain tops, and cave dwelling as the borders of southern Oregan clear across the Rockies and northern states become mere icepacks and freezer zones. The entire state of California will break away along the High Sierras and slide into the Pacific. Massive earth quakes, tsunamis, ice caps, floods, mud slides, forest fires, massive power outages, regional droughts, tornadoes, and hurricanes will as if having a mind of their own form a treaty to create a perfect storm in the northern hemisphere. Like the wild animals of the jungle and beasts of the wilderness, mankind's only feat will be to survive in an environment where the reasoning and rationalizing ability have been exchanged for a chaotic world of anarchistic instinct. *It is said that the locust does not have a king, yet they travel in bands. I do not look forward to a time when the locust accomplishes more in a leaderless state than we humans will. We will not be unified but disconnected as we slowly drift into a planetary abyss after pounding each other into the dust from which we came. Need I say more about how long this distructive condition will last? I know. So much doom and gloom....but I have too much to declare.
06042017PSContest, The Bleaker The Better, Julia Ward; Proverbs30:27*, NA
Categories:
bleaker, america, anxiety, change, confusion,
Form:
Free verse