Best Depleted Poems
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The widow, dressed in glossy black,
glides from the shadows at the back.
A veil lies slack across her face
to mask the grief her features lack.
Possessed of an insectile grace,
she sidles to the open case
and like the reptile smile she bares,
this too, serves to defile the place.
Since jealousy insures she cares
less for his death than for her shares,
obsession next finds her engrossed
in leaving with the gold he wears.
A parasite, she'll man her post
and feed from this depleted host
'til she believes she's bled the most
she can from his departed ghost.
==========================
Categories:
depleted, assonance, bereavement, dark, death,
Form:
Rhyme
I carry my mother
like a rock in my pocket
that I just can’t seem to throw away
It serves me
no purpose,
it just weighs me down
~~~
When I first found it,
when I first picked it up
and started carrying it with me,
I thought it so beautiful –
I could look at it for hours
But, like my mother,
it never looked back at me,
never grew warm under my loving gaze
For the longest, I was blind to that,
Blind to anything but the beauty,
blind to the cold, hard,
beyond-remote nature of the rock,
of my mother,
my stone
~~~
I carry my mother,
a thought without weight
And she’s heavier
and she’s colder
than all the stones
there are
~~~
By the time I recognized her
immutable, emotional unavailability,
I had run out of joy,
felt depleted of hope –
But I could not,
for the life of me,
stop seeking a beauty, a warmth,
inside her heart
Could not stop
wishing
that one day this stone,
my mother,
deep inside my pocket,
Might just become
its own opposite –
Change from hard to fluid,
from cold to warm
But my rock, my hard burden,
will only turn to water
When my mother
stops being
a stone
Categories:
depleted, childhood, confusion, daughter, family,
Form:
Free verse
My muse is a poetic flower garden,
blooming lilacs in barren meadows,
but I still remember
how I heeded haunting heartbeats
in paradise, whilst praying
for your lustrous light,
to descend onto my hazy horizons.
Your eyes like captivating sunsets,
made me dream away,
recalling shells lost in a forgotten
coral reef, castaway upon
an elusive island,
where the paths have no name,
but the oceanic breeze
calls yours so softly.
I was killing time,
scribbling elegies
on distant musical shores,
where spotted eagle rays
and flying fish were my only mentors.
Nocturnal reef sharks unfolded tales
beneath lonesome skies,
illustrating a secretive stairway
that would lead me
to the scintillating stars.
Deep within my heart,
I knew in the darkest
night you are the light
that would illuminate
my breathless sighs
with blazing ballads
rewriting my fate,
reawakening my
need to thrive through these
endless melancholic monsoons;
surfing through vast oceans.
Your cosmic radiance pulled
this chocolate mermaid,
from the bioluminescent
ripples of sorrow,
empathising with
endless streams from
my volcanic mind
and harmonious heart,
which was in dire
need of healing,
from draconian depleted
ideologies imprinted within
a labyrinth of
narcissistic daffodils,
emanating deceptive fragrances
resembling the devil's disciple,
claiming me as nothing,
but a mere self
confessed queen
on a conquest to conquer
the uncontrollable calling
to a land of virtual hypocrisy.
If only they knew
I no longer desired
to rule a kingdom of
tumultuous pretense.
I was waiting for the
return of the butterflies,
tearing apart the fragile
walls of its cocoon.
I knew if Romeo did not die,
I would be living Juliet's desires.
I was a poetess
searching for
a purpose, with no sense
to shelter, watching the
last icicle
of winter melt away.
Truth deserves a narrative
that has no ending,
though I question the universe.
Where do the
lost poets reside?
Is it where the
moon chooses to hide,
disguising dreariness
within dazzling blankets
of dancing moonscapes,
or will this be how
this sleepless soul
seizes its faultless lunar tide?
Categories:
depleted, love,
Form:
Free verse
Night of the Dark Soul;
shadows infiltrate
the gap between self
and oblivion.
You're in a scary
dysfunctional place
under constant siege;
and cannot be saved.
As reality
morphs into a dream;
sanity slowly
starts to slip away.
A part of you is
lost to dementia;
where confusion lurks
behind every thought.
Hope is depleted
only time exists;
and your frightened heart
cries out for a friend.
Categories:
depleted, august, crazy, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Blank verse
Autumn will forever be the season of death to me,
but like time, I do not remain cemented in the past.
Memories of ghosts will always lead me to the stars,
as everything we love fades away eventually,
like shells lost in a forgotten coral reef -
but in every pain there is a lesson.
As I watch the last icicle of winter drip away,
I eagerly anticipate the return of the butterflies.
To float softly in orange, indigo and ivory,
gifting kisses to elliptical tulips and narcissistic daffodils.
I remember whilst killing time,
wayward winds of winter swept away the name time forgot.
I wandered bewildered where the paths have no name,
drifting into a world of depleted ideologies.
Boredom led me to an entity of virtual hypocrisy.
Where many self confessed queens sat upon phony thrones,
claiming self declared, self obsessed sovereignty.
Demented demons and Devil's disciples,
destroying the wonderment of words,
I felt fatigued from false pretences and virtual vultures.
Until an unhappy confused and cloaked chocolate geisha,
gifted me the sincerity of her intimate inkless quill.
Replacing bleeding tears, she bled alliterations,
expressing her once hidden heartbeats from paradise.
Her vocabulary of vivid visions left me with breathless sighs.
An unpredictable poetic phenomenon,
with a volcanic mind, harmonious heart.
Was I even a poet before her presence gave me life?
There are no superheroes in poetry,
but I ponder if Romeo did not die,
would he have created a poetic garden for Juliet?
My muse is a flower garden, loyal to the core,
enchanting in evergreen picturesque petals,
spreading lilies and lilacs in barren meadows,
because in the darkest night you are the light.
Silent One
21 March 2022
Categories:
depleted, analogy, assonance, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
An Empty Kingdom
The news did spread, a kingdom’s will
For sorrow placed its shadowed hand
‘Pon castle steps the crowd did fill
As heart break took a firm command
The skies, a darkened clouded stain
As children wept in mother’s fold
Now lost amidst a dismal rain
This hour of sadness frigid cold
How could it be, their precious queen
Had fallen to a woeful stead
A tethered seed, nightmarish deem
Her majesty this day is dead
The knight, of shining armor might
Her lifeless body cradled deep
Staring straight to heaven’s light
Then bowed his head, began to weep
He raised her body ever strong
Carried her through chambered door
An empty hallway wide as long
Depleted by this mournful chore
The villagers of forlorn feel
Gathered in the dampened street
The plight of loss in full reveal
Disconsolate of death’s defeat
When then upon horizon’s glare
A silhouette of staggered steed
Towards the kingdoms stricken stare
In slow methodic steps proceed
This figure slumped of saddle ride
And weary strains of wistful yearns
Through gates of iron, wandered stride
A shout rings out, “Our king returns”
Categories:
depleted, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh sapience of musings, oh savior of poetic art!
How longingly I seek you out to inspire my ballad
When lassitude of the night envelopes my mind
And grimace of dawn darkens shrouded in fog.
Oh lyrics of melodies, oh harmonies of music!
How eloquently you speak in articulate dreams
When wordless melancholy poignantly echoes
And voice of emptiness confiscates my themes.
Oh redeemer of words, oh language of feelings!
How musically you evoke rhythms of symphony
When broken phrases languish in depleted ink
And haze of confusion subjugates my euphony.
Oh oratory of wisdom, oh intellect of vocabulary!
How metaphorically you divulge motifs of imagery
When ineptitude of simile diminish comparability
And wordplay disappoints in misplaced analogies.
Oh allure of meaning, oh enticement of literacy!
How singularly you elevate cadence of my poetry
When decaying thoughts linger forever miserably
And creativity encounters nothingness of drudgery.
October 5, 2020
Placed 1st: When there is no inspiration poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Categories:
depleted, inspiration, literature, poetry,
Form:
Ode
Reflecting within silence of my thoughts
I feel the ills of world in its stygian form--
Its music devoid of the melodic sound
Echoing in humanity’s tenebrous bawl.
On my way I see summer’s rose gardens
And autumnal look of auburn elegance,
But mostly I encounter parched look of life
Like a river dry, in the grip of drought--
A depleted look of empty wine bottle,
Nothing left to offer, devoid of its buzz.
A hidden voice prompts, raising its voice,
Asking what the world would be like
If it could wipe all tears in mothers’ eyes,
And on troubled faces put million smiles
And feed the hungry, gripped in strife.
Peering now into grieved, disquieting lives
It takes me there to war-torn towns—
Pointing to a child wandering empty streets
Orphaned by someone else’s misdeeds
Amid nothingness of abandoned dreams;
Asking me angrily how does one restore
The flame that blazed in desolate child’s eyes
Before they brazenly killed her family…
Can you look in her eyes and explain why?
Can you dare say she’ll have a normal life?
I look for epiphany in epistle of almighty
But stumble in hindrance of the ordinary--
Wicked, narrow views of blatant primacy
Attempting to justify, but failing miserably.
I hear them trumpeting the world as it is
Sounding foolish in the world that could be.
June 23, 2020
Placed 1st: Reflections in silence poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Categories:
depleted, angst, conflict, deep, silence,
Form:
Free verse
So doth each nameless grain of sand
Deny the fate of those who went before
Believing there is purpose to their flow
As waves believe their haven is the shore
Idly they joust in momentary queues
Unable to resist time’s ebbing tide
Each grain a silent second paying dues
Destined to complete its senseless ride
Thus, pride becomes ensnared in ego’s dread
Of those who challenge reason’s need
Join the depleted ranks of reason’s dead
Believing somehow they will all be freed
Hold still, cling to your dream, the die is cast
Death’s hours will encompass first and last.
John G. Lawless
©6/16/2023
Categories:
depleted, death, fate, time,
Form:
Sonnet
Covered by cloud the out-of-sight tops of soaring towers,
Buckling under their own weight, beginning to topple from
Those airy heights;
The gaping breach - the once impregnable outer wall!
The inner keep ablaze with greedy, insatiable flame;
A thunderous cacophony of crashing cymbals and blaring
Horns;
Wide-eyed lurching panic desperately grasping at the fleeting
Moment...
And the whole World immersed into madness.
Hauled above the line of the high-water mark
The bleached, gnarly boards of the depleted Longships;
And when hurriedly stripped bare of brine-drenched hempen
Rope and torn white sail.
The golden sands burning with all the brilliant radiance of a
Million candle lights;
And below a shattered sky...an enormous, disintergrating Sun
Collapsing into a hissing sea!
And now you come to tell me that Agamemnon is dead.
Dead? Is that how you say it: "Great Agamemnon is...dead."
So..all is done then. But is one death nearly enough for the
Cruel and needless sacrifice of gentle Iphigenia?
Every remaining last God to be brought to this place...
Summoned together, here, today; and this in itself...
A dreadful thing.
For never can such be given up to us again.
Categories:
depleted, mythology,
Form:
Free verse
W ishful thinking that He would greet warmheartedly
O verjoyed when strong arms of love wrapped around
N umbed by surprise but lifted by love assuredly
D elighted that He could love even me when sins astound
E mbraced by a warm bright light out of this world
R endezvous with a Higher Power greater than I'd found
F illing full where the Soul was depleted and gnarled
U nburdened, uplifted, united and totally sound
L oved, loveable, absolutely healed emotionally, and grounded
Inspired by John Hamilton's Wonderful-Acrostic poem contest..
Written: January 11, 2016
Categories:
depleted, inspiration, inspirational, spiritual,
Form:
Acrostic
There is a chocolate monster
It’s lurking around my house
Hiding here and hiding there
He’s as quiet as a mouse
The cake and cookies soon disappear
They vanish as if by magic
It is something I mustn’t fear
My depleted cupboards look so tragic
The Haribo sweets were sadly depleted
When I opened the kitchen drawer
Only ten left in the bag, oh I feel defeated!
Oh this monster is beyond the law
But I will miss my monster for soon he will leave
Back off to university he will go
And I will be sad and my shoulders will heave
So I must simply go with the flow
In a few weeks time my sweets will remain
For my son will be oh so far away
I’ll be wishing that he were back here again
Candy will be here when he returns one day
09~27~15
My Monster Contest Sponsored By Anthony Slausen
Categories:
depleted, candy, chocolate, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
(In 1807, Beethoven wrote a piano/violin
piece with this title. Count Leo Tolstoy
followed in 1890, with a short novel of the
same name, in which he argued that
matrimony can never work.)
What is a marriage? A fusion, or a tether?
Two very different creatures, yoked together?
I was a piano, you a violin:
I, solid, calming, you, discordant, thin,
and laced with bitterness. I was your base,
and you provided brio, flourish, grace.
A lacewing trapped inside a window frame,
yet driven by one blind, unchanging aim,
you struggled up until, played out, defeated,
you fluttered down again, debased, depleted.
A war's a love affair, and love's a war.
We're so inept - or what's a heaven for?
A nest of wasps, my grievances boiled over -
but could there ever be a vita nuova?
We never learned. I hammered pointlessly,
while you abraded. Why could we not see?
And so I played it stately, sad, no frills,
while you kept up your repetitions, trills
and variations. Hovering and wary,
you shunned my structures. Ever more contrary,
you coiled and squirmed in spasms both continuous,
spontaneous, free-wheeling, lithe and sinuous.
It seemed to me the harmony had gone:
we sang on, yes, but each a separate song.
Two butterflies together, intertwined,
we tangled on the same, but different, line.
Categories:
depleted, marriage, relationship,
Form:
Couplet
From now on
Mornings will never be the same
How fortunate I feel
Can’t take it for granted
Everyday I am thankful
Not rich but enough to get by
Free to do as I please
Create my art
Write poetry
Just for the love of it
No need to peddle or hustle
To put food on the table
Of course it wasn’t
Always so easy
Everything has a price
I haven’t forgotten the years
Of ploughing through
The ruthless game of
Politics and personal agendas
In the arena of public service
Keeping an eye on the finish line
That seemed would never come
Giving my all till depleted
Not everyone is willing to pay the price
Battered ego
Accumulated scars and anger
Nobody ever said
Respect would be part
Of the salary package
But the finish line comes faster
Than one can imagine
Time passes and
Only now I stand back
And see the big picture
After comatose years of
Deprogramming and recharging
Peeling away layer after layer
One day there it is
That inner pearl exposed
Primed to be nurtured and polished
Feeling excessively fortunate
Overall very few people are so lucky
Read on air by invitation ~ July 24, 2020 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 1st place 2025, 3rd place 2020
Submitted on May 28, 2018 for FROM NOW ON POETRY CONTEST sponsored by NAYDA IVETTE NEGRON - RANKED 9TH
Categories:
depleted, change, future, hope, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
DECLARATIONS OF A SOCIAL SCIENTIST
Indeed, I am that Poet and know it.
Just in transition to a more enriched poetry form.
I want to talk about life, politics, and religion.
Maybe not simultaneously, but how I am feeling today.
I tell you life isn't a bowl of cherries.
I am not harvesting berries.
I live a vivacious existence.
I nature walk and take beautiful pictures.
I thrive in my leisure time.
Even more so, I work until my mind unwinds.
I am just a thrill seeker but not an extremist.
I am an illustration of well-being.
In fact, I am striving for better physical dexterity.
In all, my body desires more agility.
To eradicate the clumsiness,
My ability to monitor my own quickness is propensity depleted.
My mind, body, and spirit have superseded.
Oh, I am told that it is all right to be big headed.
Of course, gloating is good for your inner being.
Dwindling is not something I will let occur.
I am the booster of morale.
Be assured that I am there for others who seek a physiological mental form.
Do I appear to be titivated?
I am what I have stated.
Doubtlessly, there will be jealousy.
Without doubt, they will envy me.
Undoubtedly, this will not hinder.
I have overcome obstacles since the being of my existence.
Liberated from birth via a nation of government, I am free.
I can wave my hand and be seen.
I can stand up for what is right.
I can ignite the political fire.
I can educate my mind to genius.
I can defeat enmity.
Negativity may come but I disallow it to be a formula.
I am abreast.
|_____________________________________|
Penned on October 31, 2014!
Categories:
depleted, adventure, art, autumn, beautiful,
Form:
Free verse