Best Decay Poems
In autumn's graceful waltz of time
Where beauty and decay lovely intertwine.
And where joy and sorrow blissfully dance
In grace, they move this is a mesmerizing rhyme.
Leaves fall like a master painter's dream
Such a masterpiece mixed in color and light.
Twirling and a pirouette and the wind's gentle hymn
Is celebrating life's fleeting and graceful flight.
Raindrops are falling in a celestial jeté
I breathe in the air so crisp and so fair.
A gentle wind as secrets it keeps
A promise of renewal in the cool autumn ballet.
Within decay's soft and relentless caress
Unseen beauty takes the actors stage.
Golden leaves crunch underfoot like nature’s applause
Soft light filters through the trees like a lover's gaze.
Silence of the air soothes my soul like a lullaby.
Autumn is a ballet of graceful transition
A time for release and a moment to move on.
Yet, it is also a time of great hope.
A chance for fresh beginnings and where dancers are drawn.
The Harvest's abundance in life's great field
For the Fruits of labor and love's sweet trove.
The apple's nectar on my tongue, it yields.
Nature's gift is a dance
from heavens above.
Yet, as I taste the apple’s sweet yield...
I am transported to autumns of past.
To childhood days in the orchard field
And laughter lament is fading fast.
We seek the fire's embrace
against the chill.
As we are preparing for winter's
timeless phase.
And children's laughter fills with thrill -
That joyous echo of
Halloween's displays.
A fire crackles in life’s burning spin.
Look, as new life emerges from...
the ember's gentle glow.
We experience a symbol of...
transformation
a dance within...
Just like life's eternal rhythm...
like a river's ebb and flow.
There is steadfast and an...
unwavering resolve.
As a lone leaf clings to its
solitary dream.
A dream of green...
a dance as life revolves...
Against winter's ongoing
relentless regime.
Within winter's embrace and where life's seeds lie
Lies a seed of promise...
in silence grown.
I close my eyes and join autumn's
endless grace.
In reverie... I find my truest home.
Yet when I awaken -
It was a fleeting dream.
As the scent of autumn lingers in the air...
A testament to time that life's beauty is in…
Its ever-turning stream.
Dracula needed dentures,
That's the story I've been told
The man was getting up in age,
Nearly seven centuries old!
He refused to see a dentist,
While losing his fatal bite
He soon became a laughing stock,
Not a soul feared him at night!
The Transylvanian Drooler,
His newly appointed name
He lost his reputation,
His bite was rather lame!
Each time he'd suck a neck,
His victims failed to succumb
He had no fangs to penetrate,
For all he could do was "gum!"
No more humiliation!
It was time to buy some teeth;
His remaining shred of dignity,
Sank to the gutters beneath!
A brand new set of choppers,
Created a lovely smile
Soaring back to action,
Has always been his style!
Behold, another damsel,
How could she escape?
He swooped around the corner,
Binding her with his cape!
He took one mighty bite,
With very little effect
When he tried to pull away,
His teeth were stuck in her neck!
His face turned red as a beacon,
What a mockery to the undead
His victim cried with laughter,
Then smacked him across the head!
Dracula quit the business,
Heeding retirement's call
Suckin' down Bloody Marys,
Toothless and gummin' a straw!
Returning from the date, he hides impressions
into the nooks and crannies of his mind
like a fed dog hides bones and then can’t find.
Don’t, filthy dog, don’t do that! Nothing freshens
the memory like a new date. The grave
of his beloved wife was fresh enough
to dig it up. Oh, weird twists of love,
macabre curves of lust that make him crave
charm in decay, enjoyment in remains
of beauty, sentimental memories
of kisses smelling humus, reveries
of the ideal submissiveness in chains
of death. It’s almost day. “Goodbye, sweetheart”.
Oh, how time drags before nightfall tomorrow!
In sickness and in health, in joy and sorrow,
through death, until a new dawn do us part.
09.12.2019
Memorial Of A Loved One Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Dead leaves dance in the wind and embrace
As it takes them to a recent place
Their beauty is in decay, yet still alive
A reminder that all things must thrive.
The last flower of the season stands alone
Withered and fading, its beauty is now gone
But its vibrant colors remain in my memory
A symbol of life's fleeting energy.
The trees shed their leaves, one by one
As they prepare for a season undone
But their naked branches reach up high
A testament to the strength that never dies.
The world around us may acerbate and evolve
But life's cycle continues to revolve
From birth to growth to death and decay
A constant reminder to live each day.
So let the wind carry you wherever it may
Embrace the beauty in every decay
Even in death, there is still life
A reminder to cherish every moment and every strife.
Within Mysteries, The Dark and Decay Also Hides
(free verse)
On a stony pebble, feet cried out in pain,
why does, in our way, sharp pebbles forever lay
and the beat goes on
daily turmoil and sadden goodbyes
nightly terrors, old broken toys
vacancies of illuminations
dark echoes that reveal
dismissal of kindness
and the beat goes on
In a dying feast,
why does each bite so bitter taste
broken spoon grinds upon aging teeth
table shakes its rotten legs
hope waves its retreat
tomorrow yearns to die
tomorrow, at own yearning, dies
hope, so foolish, is scorned
legs decay under table fallen
broken teeth curse aged spoon
even bitter can no longer be bitten
feast on death, never aught else
yet the heat is gone
kindness, as it were, no longer
concealed in devious light
where illuminations are filled
with days terrors, child returns
to greet anew the nightmare revived
yet the heat is gone
here, in our way, stones, jagged, perpetual
feet, mortifyingly quiet on jagged stone
A Collaboration, by Robert J. Lindley
and Lawrence Sharp
7-02-2020, free verse
Note: It has again been a blessing and great
pleasure for me to compose with my great friend,
Lawrence Sharp. I am grateful for such a
wonderful gift and the immense poetic talents
of my very kind writing partner. His verses
brought such wonderful depths and a very fine
added dimension to this new collaborative creation.
~~~
My old homeplace was left to deteriorate
A shambles of disarray showing it’s elderly state
Porch and door gray and weary from the years
Of wind and storm flailing their bitter beams
Ferns grow haphazardly along the garden edge
Whispers of disrepair shadowing the staircase
Making everything appear dismal and worn
Humbled house that was once my lovely home
Vines cling to the roof and I see a rosette smiling
Softly forming the illusion of charm along the gray
Dingy boards that were once painted with a joy
That filled up the site with pretty pictures of hope
Melancholy broods as I peep through a window
Losing my composure amid the apathy of chaos
That was once my dream come true, my heart
Singing songs of inspiration that has changed to
Verses of disorder and dismay due to the decay
Of this once happy place where I was raised
~~~
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
July 14, 2020
we're in a cafe and he's unsure if he can
finish his slice of CAKE, one of those
fondant numbers and so we've made an arrangement
which will allow me to consume half of it
but then, "dad, i actually think i can finish it."
i get a message from a friend asking how are the kids today
i reply like what i make of the french revolution;
it's too early to tell
The day he moved in he started
packing all of her away.
She barely even noticed her
personal truth decay.
Her mirror reflected shadowed eyes,
echoed her quiet dismay.
Without a breath in her defense she
was a captured castaway.
She barely even noticed her
personal truth decay.
Naively she didn't stand as he kept
her friends at bay.
Without a breath in her defense she
was a captured castaway.
The home that she had filled with
dreams disappeared when she
disobeyed.
Naively she didn't stand as he kept
her friends at bay.
Her mirror reflected shadowed eyes,
echoed her quiet dismay.
The home that she had filled with
dreams disappeared when she
disobeyed.
The day he moved in he started
packing all of her away.
Ruby Honeytip
© 2013
Note: I am very pleased to have collaborated with Robert Lindley on several occasions in the past. Today, I have the pleasure of doing so again.
Robert, as always, thank you no end for the fellowship and inspiration.
Within Mysteries, The Dark and Decay Also Hides
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
On a stony pebble, feet cried out in pain,
why does, in our way, sharp pebbles forever lay
and the beat goes on
daily turmoil and sadden goodbyes
nightly terrors, old broken toys
vacancies of illuminations
dark echoes that reveal
dismissal of kindness
and the beat goes on
In a dying feast,
why does each bite so bitter taste
broken spoon grinds upon aging teeth
table shakes its rotten legs
hope waves its retreat
tomorrow yearns to die
tomorrow, at own yearning, dies
hope, so foolish, is scorned
legs decay under table fallen
broken teeth curse aged spoon
even bitter can no longer be bitten
feast on death, never aught else
yet the heat is gone
kindness, as it were, no longer
concealed in devious light
where illuminations are filled
with days terrors, child returns
to greet anew the nightmare revived
yet the heat is gone
here, in our way, stones, jagged, perpetual
feet, mortifyingly quiet on jagged stone
2nd July 2020
lying on the dirt floor
twisting and turning in my sleep,
i hear a moan and one last sigh,
and then a lady starts to weep.
i try to wake up from this terrible dream,
and the dangers that face me.
but as i blink i notice one thing,
my dream is reality.
i look up at my mother,
a strong and kind woman,
and ask her what has happened
because to me, it looks like a bad omen.
although i know what has happened
I'm not afraid nor do i cry
i stand there strongly beside my mother
my stomach growling and my throat dry.
a few more moons pass me by
until i feel famished and weak
and i noticed one thing,
I've not eaten in a week.
i walk down to a pond
and saw me staring at me.
and as i look down at my body
i say " that's a sight i dont wanna see."
i make my way back to the tent
there's only a few people left alive.
and with these harsh conditions.....
no one will survive.
one falls after the other
starved and all worn out
and last my mother falls
and it's to God that i shout.
"Why did you take her?"
"Please dont leave me here alone"
and at that very moment
my spirit and body were gone.
The days are getting so withered and old,
and leaves are falling, drifting and flying;
I gather up the red, yellow and gold,
O, the wildflowers are fading- dying.
The daylight is tarnished and the wind bleak,
soon, the fields, trees and branches will be bare;
the birds chirp, chirping and twittering seek,
and I expect each morn' snow in the air.
Yet, there are days with a deep blue expanse,
when some drowsy bees come buzzing by me;
and among my withered limp blooms they dance,
hovering, then flying away with glee.
O, there is beauty in Autumn decay;
when painted leaves whirl and waltz- a ballet.
___________________
July 29, 2021 (repost)
Poetry/Sonnet/Fall Decay
Copyright Protected, ID 07-1376-307-29
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Brian Strand Sonnet
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
"Dead leaves lay still until the wind takes them
here and there: even the last flower is withered:
yet there is a beauty in decay. "
Quote by _Constance La France
Dry leaves from age cover the earth.
Wind braces artwork that is worth
Imagination rest brought forth.
Death and inevitable birth.
Grass withers, unkempt flowers fall,
Tangled ivy tendrils bind and crawl
The old weathered two-story walls
It's impassioned nostalgia calls.
Yet voiced beauty in its decay
Unbound life cannot look away.
Even in twilight shadows gray
A lullaby it seems to say.
She'd had her round in Life's blighting furnace,
Where stealthy wear and age blurred her face.
Dents shot where dreamy dimples had grown,
Lightning smiles usurped by involuntary frown.
In her livelier turns by Midas' glowing shores,
She galloped and gleamed like grated brass.
Time’s grim cankers fell on the rarefied feast
Of the cutest eye ever cast on envious glass.
If as a reincarnated phoenix's her gone grin
Could twirl and morph into its erstwhile arc,
She’d anon repulse her timing nemesis’ sin,
And give her faded glories an eternal spark.
Bereft of that fairy fowl's sheen-saving magic,
She’d to inevitably brave decay's stoic scythe.
Merry rhyme sung her sweet charms to mimic
Faded to ethers wherein dead beauties writhe.
No looker who her earth-blemished visage espies,
Can know she was the fairest star in kindlier skies.
Your headstone glistens neath the sky
this breezy, chilly, autumn day,
as dead leaves swirl in circles now
while falling, landing where you lay.
This tree that guards you- soon must sleep;
once lush with earthly, verdant green,
lies dormant while its leaves decay,
and roots face their long, wintry scene.
Now, with these roots, asleep you rest.
Although the sky is clear and blue,
I dread this force, known as decay-
felt deeply neath this tree with you.
Yet- from decay, new spring is born-
from death to life, the cycle goes.
This truth I feel- so, as I grieve-
know life has sprung from your repose.
September 21, 2020
Contest: Writing Challenge - Decay
Sponsor: Constance La France
glanced at one last rose in my garden!
deep crimson velvety petals -
incandescent as luminous horizon at sunset,
mystifying as the shadow of amber clouds
glowing as the colour of my pulsating, fluttering heart ~
at the delightful thoughts of being with my beloved.
summer is leaving ~
magical rose bush almost abandoned...
one last flower
bursting with radiant hues,
still smiling a ravishing smile ~
last dance of a ballerina ~
a jubilant performance of a creative soul,
before the curtain finally drops and
the performer fades away with a departing bow.
reminding the inevitability of separation, decay and death.
It is alone and lonely...
swaying and twirling on a brittle branch
final witness of the rejoicing,
I see the solitary beauty, bravely waiting to join its clan.....
I will wait to see the resurgence of a new bud ~
I will wait, and not despair.
Edited From " Last Rose" (written on November 30, 2020)
For "Rose" Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liquori