Best Dehydrated Poems
Our lives are not immune to the impact of time,
nor is our mind between the tensions of love and hate.
That's why I curse this wanderlust heart -
still searching for that wandering star.
without a guide - without a love to call my own.
I try not to look back, but sometimes certain scents,
remind me of things that saw me as a minority.
A summer heart misplaced in winter's wickedness,
a child frozen in the passages of a stolen childhood.
Ingredients of my life are a juxtaposition of flavours,
finding purity among diseased hearts,
fighting against principles of corrupt minds
and I hurt nobody - until they pushed me,
it was never about the physical - but the mental.
Silence is different in adolescence -
suppressed into a protective bubble,
you reject the harshness of existence.
My small hands could not hold the burdens,
so I was mute as demons slayed my father,
his anger drowning my brothers into darkness.
Tears of my mother, dehydrated my soul,
so I grew like a tree with broken branches -
sometimes naked, sometimes an abundance of green.
Even in an obscure world of nightmares,
my heart was a light bulb, full of dreams -
but misplaced in a place of misunderstanding.
I adopted silence in the violence,
because I struggled with reality's fabrications.
Fatherless,
I found acceptance in the war on the streets,
where love was poison, but hate brought prosperity.
Only surviving due to my father's name,
yet I knew it was an unwinnable game.
My hands were pacifying guns,
so I learned to exist without bullets.
I was a black sheep in a strange white herd,
opposing shepherds who couldn't tolerate me.
A clean soul in a dirty social order -
a peaceful heart seeking a place to call home.
Silence is a choice in adulthood.
I used to ignore the pain from unhealed wounds,
but today the inner child screams and shouts,
because oppressors can no longer mute my tongue.
Death taught me not to be bitter,
stubborn fingers how to bleed ink onto paper -
showing compassion in an ugly world.
If life was so simple, we wouldn't look at it differently.
Our perceptions are based on what we have learned,
what was, what is to come and what we search for.
Where you end up depends on how you deal with the past.
Categories:
dehydrated, emotions, introspection, life,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I could have cried like a bride at a funeral
Bled out, dry. I could have but I was already
dehydrated...I
i think of you
I wish someone could turn the
moon back on, turn the dimmer back up
on the stars. I can't stand these dark
black nights void of even one tiny ray
of light. I am tired of walking blind through
the evenings of my everyday life...I
i think of you
Yesterday I dreamt the night sky exploded.
Bright white pinholes of light appeared .
It was as if an invisible hand was holding a huge
Fourth of July sparkler against a waterfall of black gold.
I watched the oil well blaze. The whole Earth was on fire.
The world was burning hot. Without fear I walked through
the flames warm, comforted as if I was being held in his light...I
i think of you
Still in the grip of my sleep suddenly an ocean appears.
its water rises and shapes itself like the head of a dragon.
Its neck is shaped like a Chinese silk fan. At the same time
it is just a huge wave. The kind surfers expect to find in heaven.
There is nothing threatening about this apparition.
Quite the opposite like the fire it feels as if it is a part of me...I
i think of you
Do I miss you?
Miss you? I died with you!
There's a knock at my door but I'm not here.
Life's going to have to wait. I'm in hiding.
I feel safe inside my walls. In reality my bedroom light
is all the outdoors I need. It is my Sun. I hate here without you.
So I lie in my bed motionless starring into my nothingness and I...
i think of you
(Frozen!)
As time passes...introspective...I begin to understand.
The earth, the air, the fire, the water all the elementals are him.
(I begin to thaw!)
He is with me even in my ignorance he has never left me.
You can take the lord into your heart without a word by accepting his light.
(Slightly cold!)
A deeper, purer understanding. A trust that rejects the dark no
matter how black. I am a part of all, a part of one as you are. A part of me.
(Warm!)
I open my curtains...watch the dark exit
hurried as love rushes in. Firmly in his hold...I
I think of you...
Once again with you.
Fully! We...the power of one...I
I think of us.
The Beginning!
March 25 2015
Armand
Categories:
dehydrated, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Childhood is a ship,
preparing to set sail,
but not all harbors are kind
the ocean a mysterious enigma.
Not all inflictions are visible,
some bruises remain invisible.
Not all trauma can be expressed,
so the past is buried - still breathing.
Ghosts resurface, with subtlest of hints.
When we are born,
we are 'freshly decorated' boats.
Preparing to set sail through unknown waters,
longing to venture to foreign shores.
Yet, what is hidden underneath deep ripples,
is not innocent, like my childhood heart -
powerless, helpless, defenseless.
An anthology of a villain and his victims
Sins of my father,
once plagued my mother's tears.
Her anchor became a burden of heavy fears,
so drought, dehydrated her river bed.
To escape constant waves of rage,
my mind set sail to seek safer shores.
On my boat, I was my own captain.
Steps of thunder,
followed me through turbulent tides,
yet, spirit found courage to row faster -
to this day, I've never known how.
Maybe, I could not let his blood define me.
I watched, in horror, as his terror,
drowned my petrified siblings -
I wonder, why they did not sail away,
were their anchors, consumed with reality?
When words struck like metaphorical daggers,
sirens of the sea, serenaded with songs of sorrow.
But, my soul knew the sun would offer redemption -
finally unchain me from the darkness of adolescence.
Through passages of life,
what was once a boat in troublesome times,
is now a ship, settled on stable seas.
Example for Inflictions contest.
Silent One
8 August 2020
Categories:
dehydrated, analogy, childhood, emotions, innocence,
Form:
Free verse
As shades of grey overwhelm white clouds,
their rain tears begin to pitter and patter,
creating a pattern upon my skin.
Like a dehydrated petal, I taste their
tenderness with the tip of my tongue.
A gypsy breeze kisses my skin's shivers,
as I gaze at my muddy decaying garden -
roses look rusty, but their thorns remain.
As my eyes close in silent stillness,
I'm lost in a melancholic moment -
when I was like a vibrant spring bloom
but I wonder why my roots crumbled.
Life moves so fast,
but some of us struggle to grow.
Some images remain forgotten,
some promises remain broken,
so, I ponder what happened,
to those childhood dreams and schemes -
when the mind cared not for meaning,
only hidden treasures we would find.
How many are still searching,
how many souls are at peace?
How empty is your jar?
Reflecting upon those who arrived,
hardly any stayed - few left an impression -
most left without understanding.
Some still live within boxes of my heart,
especially those who lifted me when I fell,
but there was only a few
and I regret the ones I hurt,
forgive the ones who caused me pain,
but, I shall never forget.
We can never escape our past,
some of us will never really heal,
memories are like lost photos,
stored in a dusty album.
I awaken from my reverie,
as conkers fall at my feet, cracking their spiky shells.
A ray of light breaks from a canopy of leaves,
reflecting upon my face - I begin to a smile.
I can't recall when my bubble floated away,
but, I embrace the rain and what it brings.
I accept what the winds take with them,
because I can feel the warmth of the sun.
Become the gardener of your own life.
Categories:
dehydrated, analogy, childhood, growth,
Form:
Free verse
Aimlessly I meander in expansive barren-landscape
Whipped by the assault of rustling windy gales
Embossing sandy designs resembling ocean waves
Simulating pools of water in mirage of seascapes.
Plateaus upon reddish hills reveal cracked earth
Where decaying mangled-trees in rising heat groan
As cobalt-blue sky yields to darkened dye of dusk
And blistering winds blur vision whirling sandy dust.
From the apex of ordinary I intently walked off
Letting thirst of quest confound my whereabouts;
Lost and hungry now, signs of life I strive for
Hearing the chirps of crickets and croaks of frogs.
Exhausted I fall besides flowering cactus plants
Hosting frightened thoughts of dehydrated pleas
Awakening to twittering sounds amid birdsongs
Rising in breeze from distant oasis of Joshua trees.
As the daybreak on hazy skies paints golden sunrise
Trekking for miles and miles audacity reaches hope
Dispensing staggering words incapable to explain
Dysfunction now longing for embrace of mundane.
September 30, 2018
First place in I wander the desert alone contest, sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Also, placed first in standard contest #140 by Brian Strand
NOTE: Joshua trees are found in Mojave desert in California.
Categories:
dehydrated, imagery, metaphor, nature, onomatopoeia,
Form:
Free verse
At last, in the mute of twilight hums
I am possessed with silence shaven,
whiteness of peace touches the breath
melting the morsels of earth’s flesh
from soiled, weary shirts: my unzipped body
dehydrated from needles of toil, soil, boil.
Dear time, be my friend in these hours;
the linens of cells are bathed in morning’s sweat
and raging howls of a day ache for an ounce
honeyed by the balm of a tearing mind...
along blades of sky coasting, faint light
brushes my dreary lips cradled
on a nest like tattered notes unsung.
At last, losing the self to the din
of night half-dark half-light, I cling
to the lingering octave of solitude;
the oneness with my crawling skin
as I release all the pining from the womb,
that in stillness, I taste fresh pulp of life.
For Celebrate Life Contest
Sponsor: Christy Teas Reposted 5/16/2016
Categories:
dehydrated, change, life,
Form:
Free verse
The fact of losing you wasn't that much devastating. You evaporated too fast like water. And so it didn't give me affright. I know you're like water, you'll precipitate one day.
And so, that one day came by destiny. I was in my room when it rained pieces of you. I went outside and felt the touch I've missed for somehow a long time. I enjoyed your every drop, the petrichor and the moist.
I badly wanted you back. I longed for the water which drowns me in love. The water that gives me life every time I'm dehydrated. The water that forgives whoever I am. Only if I could collect all of your pieces and bring you back to my life forever, without you being gone once more. But I know, it will never happen.
For now, I enjoy your unexpected visits and perchance sojourns. I relish your every coming. In that way, I still manage to have you, even though I know you have to evaporate again.
Categories:
dehydrated, emotions, feelings, for her,
Form:
Prose
Angels are unable to handle
these 'Sylvia Plath' sorrows,
hiding their halos -
mute to my concerns.
Love has abandoned me,
left me to decay in an open grave,
where flesh eating insects
devour my motionless corpse.
Yet, I'm a victim of my own demise,
stranded upon sand dunes,
as a martyr for sacrificial offerings
cursing my selfless 'lighthouse' conduct,
guiding lost ships through tormenting storms.
In fading light,
I'm shivering, lips quivering,
resembling a solitary ancient oak tree,
with black, bitter bark, freezing,
despite June's sunshine blazing.
My once golden roots, now sour, weaken,
crumbling under hardened, heated clay.
My 'Frida Kahlo' soul
resembles a weary traveller,
craving for manifestations of rain.
Dehydrated in darkness,
an orchestra of demons,
lurk behind misty shadows.
Epitomized incarnate images
of Satanic messengers,
stalking in echoes of self - slaughter.
Impersonating chivalrous comrades,
seducing the sanity of
my 'Oscar Wilde' mind.
These 'Van Gogh' eyes
exhausted from existence
are a shroud of obsidian mystery.
An embodiment of emotions,
feeling pain scorch in deep crimson stains,
eternally engraved like an unwanted tattoo -
yet they remind me.... I'm still alive
but I know there is beauty in death.
Categories:
dehydrated, angst, dark, pain,
Form:
Free verse
She did not have to guess.
She felt it in her bones.
Unfaithful he always was,
Unfaithful he'll always be.
She knew where he would be.
Anger flared in the pit of her stomach,
A heart-wrenching in the ache of fire.
What could she do? Revenge?
She rejected such thoughts
Knowing well enough
She was no match against him.
Why couldn't he love only her?
Why did he leave her dehydrated of love?
As in the Fall, her love-like leaves
Fell down, turned brown,
Definitely to be lost forever.
She'll do without him, come what may.
Thus she lay on her settee, love choked,
Folded herself foetus-like,
Relishing the darkness of her abode.
Another lonely night, cursing her dreams.
A wave of nausea gripped her soul,
Knew she'll have to take her medication
Before she really turned sick.
She swallowed the two pills,
She would not please him and have more.
But she could not resist
Drinking ruby red dry wine.
She felt confused. Did she swallow her pills?
Doubt after doubt after doubt.
Her bottle seemed empty.
So she drank some more.
Finally, she slept
Alone, abandoned on the settee.
Categories:
dehydrated, abuse, wife,
Form:
Free verse
“You don't lose if you get knocked down; you lose if you stay down.” Muhammad Ali
I've been struggling to exist,
since the day I was born.
A dehydrated butterfly
in a garden without rain.
A white page, an inkless quill,
a silent poet without words.
But when eyes feel fuzzy,
head a little dizzy,
and the pills don't work,
we fight the confusion like a
gladiator without a sword.
a knight without a shield.
Every time we get a bit of respite,
it's time for another fight.
Sometimes like an old boxer,
we get knocked to the ground,
but like a fledgling I resurface.
What other choice do I have?
I'm no mercenary,
no militant, no martyr.
I'm a wounded samurai
under a cherry blossom tree,
bloodshed blade by my side.
I drink pain like a glass of water,
embrace agony like a lover,
suffocate sorrow until it's over.
Pain is a reflection of my existence,
my wounds a reluctant legacy,
written from massacres of warfare -
but there is no purpose without struggle.
I always keep hope for tomorrow,
but live for today.
Life is an advent of adversity,
we win, we lose, we learn.
We are all warriors,
as life is one constant conflict.
We are forever fighters.
Categories:
dehydrated, inspiration,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Drained of opaque innocence
Perfected by your toxicity,
I was laid bare beneath the narcissistic sun,
Searing deep within dehydrated pupils,
Stripping my soul of all humanity,
until your sinister tongue was all I could hear.
Your empty promises clothed these bones;
running was no longer an option,
as hiding became nearly impossible within your shadows.
Voices, eating through my cerebral cortex,
tainted even the demons that resided within my mind.
Minuscule reminders of my life before became particles of dust,
floating through suffocating air,
choking the little oxygen you let me breathe,
until the poison became too much to take.
Falling to my knees, vomiting your vile lies,
my life flashed like motion pictures before my eyes.
A choice was given:
either purge—rip the cursed, stinging nettle from my veins,
or die under your cruelty.
I will not rot for an insignificant monster;
a cleansing is long overdue.
Categories:
dehydrated, dark, gothic, imagery, night,
Form:
Free verse
The era of catatonic self-destruction has risen yet again from boulder-blocked caves,
Whose cavernous stalactite incisors drip with the blood of thorny crowns,
Worn in punitive irony for the subversion of fertile inferiority,
Which, like rabbits, duplicates and hops about in trouncing contentment.
Yet despite the grin stretched beneath empty eyes,
Which are eclipsed by dilation of cimmerian shades poured from tipped inkwells,
Darkness ripened by age has inflated its penumbral grasp upon the solar plexus.
Hearts beat now to the false circadian rhythm of telemetry.
Screens fueled by waves polluting the air scramble for attention;
Screaming as if the spotlight has slithered away from their thespian heads.
But even so we watch as if waiting for a nothingness we know.
Petulant performances pretending to perfect the perception of reality persevere,
Despite their lack of empirical validity.
Our bodies and the space around they occupy have become irrelevant.
Experience and physical stimulation have been replaced by mirror neurons,
Firing incessantly at the sight of electromagnetic facsimiles,
Which are vomited in projected disproportion into our unwitting faces,
From nauseating mouths of those whose disease has spread to lower echelons.
And so we sit and stare upon the square on walls and in our hands,
As the prefrontal cortex and its dehydrated lobes succumb to the reptilians.
Another era of lack of mind borne from the fruitlessness of parasitic seeds,
Planted by the pretenders who swim in the wealth of our applause.
Clap away, we will, until we collapse in the arthritic solidification of redundant repetition.
Welcome to the show; a televised apocalypse of thought.
Where worlds were once created in cognition,
They're now created in the lenses of cameras.
When worlds were once refracted light coruscating from the eye,
They're now flickered in slides reflected from the television.
Categories:
dehydrated, addiction, social, society,
Form:
Free verse
End of Summer
Glorious Summer was great fun while it lasted,
With sweltering sun, I turned super tan and almost toasted.
Now it’s high time to end this heat bummer,
‘Cause I’ve had enough of another sizzling summer.
Almost dehydrated, I have been panting and sweating,
And I’m tired of using fans and other forms of air-conditioning.
I look forward to naturally cool days and crispy nights,
Wearing light jackets, sexy booties, and colorful tights.
Wild wind whipping my hair and stroking my cheeks,
I welcome the seasons changing in the upcoming weeks.
Leaves exchanging colors of green for hues of oranges and browns,
I’m ready to embrace exhilarating awesome Autumn!
08-31-2014
Categories:
dehydrated, autumn, change, nature, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
Poetry is spontaneous, pure, raw emotion,
don't you dare label what I say as cliche.
This is my perspective of life in motion,
through experiences encountered day by day.
Bleeding and leaking in the form of ink,
my mind paints a beautiful picture.
Writing for the soul pushed to the brink.
Joy and sorrow, such a beautiful mixture.
Poetry fuses all emotions,
time to forget the foolish notion,
that experience stays strict to form,
Time to recreate the norm.
Life's not in Iambic Pentameter,
but it still moves with a lyrical flow.
What some read may come off as amateur,
To others inspire spiritual growth.
As Autumn leaves fall,
Spring begins to blossom,
change is almost here.
Catalyzed by thoughts shared through honest words,
emerging from the emptiness deep down,
A blank verse forged through the pain and sorrow,
Brought to the light through happiness and peace.
Redemption echoing like a shriek in an empty house---
emptying out feelings of defeat.
Poetry is water for the dehydrated soul---
warmth from the desolate cold.
Such a powerful tool should not be limited,
poetry frees me so I write freely.
Free from the burdens of stress carried for so long,
free from the bondage of guidelines to tell my story.
I Write to inspire, to spread desire like wildfire.
No different than mankind, poetry should by judged by its content,
the body and form are institutional nonsense.
Categories:
dehydrated, how i feel, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
This way that I feel, these dreams that I'm having
The rage that's held in, please Lord, let me release
The bottled up anger, laced with the bad memories
When will things change? Please Lord, Let me release
I search for the change, and I seek it through the shadows
I wish for this to stop, please Lord, make it decease
As the emotions boil, and the imagery is set, I paint
But the picture is all wrong, please Lord, make it decease
I can't erase the memories, the shell to thick to crack
Help me discover my path, and please Lord, let me release
The wisdom unheard of, gone in a single flash, to where?
Help me find my soul, and please Lord, let me release
I imagine a better place, in your arms is where I belong
Until then I'm alone, please Lord, make it decease
A victim of a broken home, and outcast to even myself
Questioning my mind, please Lord, make it decease
Lead me in the direction, you already know where I'll go
I'm lost and I need your help, but please Lord, let me release
Tired in these empty hallways, dehydrated of your love
Make me whole again, but please Lord, let me release
Categories:
dehydrated, god, grief, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme