Best Desperations Poems
there were moments, times in my life
when I couldn’t pray – all I felt was strife
there were fears, tears, leftovers from grief
so dark and lonely, I couldn’t get any relief
there were sorrows beyond my understanding
night’s shadows, desperations expanding
there were wars within my spirit, fights
forcing me to feel lost, without any rights
there were storms that made me feel lost
when I look back, I still see what it cost
there were so many feelings I couldn’t express
times when my heart’s hope was only a guess
there were thoughts that fed my insecurities
desperation that left me with life’s impurities
there were relationships, oh, I’ve loved so much
wouldn’t it be beautiful to feel a gentle touch?
there were sensitivities that taught me to doubt
when it comes to feelings I often just want out
there were rains, tempests who were so garish
despite it all though – this love would never perish
amid the battles, amongst the cries – the salty tears
there came a voice stilling my worries and fears
it was love that reminded me - He’s always near
whatever I might face, His love is completely sincere
when I don’t know what to do and the pain is deep
I look to my Savior, knowing that my soul He will keep
Black Powder Dreams
Vast o’ the seas carry forth desperations
Lives cast aside in the faces of war
Rotted wood planks, salted skin aspirations
Wind tattered sails bound of endless explore
Black powder dreams aft the end quarter season
Cannons at wait, closer still to the bow
Manned by the weak, none in need of a reason
Chilled to the bone, never wondering how
Darkened the depths beckon angry waves crashing
Bound to the rail by a pitch and a shove
Visions of loves and the homeland a’ flashing
Prayers slowly drowned before floating above
Scar rippled flesh, leathered treachery flailing
Shrieks in the night causing laughter below
Tethered by fear o’er the desolate wailing
Shadows await harbors safe to bestow
Compass point dangers adrift in the distance
Forced to push on to the end of the fall
Death shrouds belief in a fractured resistance
Down on their knees longing nothing at all
Endless the journey for pittance bled wages
Deaf to the thoughts found alone in the screams
Forever lost in the unopened pages
At the expense of their black powder dreams
11/7/18
Written for the: Black Powder Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
The eternal buzz of city anglers
brash, angry, hornets ever selling egos.
Shrieking anxiety laced, analog, syllables, idiotically.
Hoping against hope, urchins, desperations end,
strumming ancient chords in vain efforts,
praying evermore for ordained kindness's eye.
Telltale ubiquitous blighter's energetically begging on.
How on heaven's earth can anyone
begrudge absolution, hand out shackles instead.
The august city in full ultraviolet,
never ever satiated, each mouth open.
Raw as meat, uncooked, questionable, objectionable,
waiting on the angler's hook obediently.
We arrived with expectations of triumph
There were agonies, desperations and tears
Coloring the hills with melancholy shades
Erasing the imaginings of soldier’s anguish
Embracing loss from the heights of passion
Where worries win and misery invites pain
To grasp the soul with a sense of forbode
Whispering despair through breaths of air
Filled with black dread and amber silence
Created in the hearts of those who shall kill
The sons of chaos who reach for a chance
To divide and conquer – defeat the wretched
Wickedness of those who long to succeed
Reach victory along the front lines where
Gettysburg soldiers are drifting along paths
Of loss and sorrow, fears of all that has past
And the tomorrows that are filled with knowing
Death is a friend to those who defy it with
Mercies murmuring and sighing, silencing
Each breath of hope that finds its way to the
Surface where there are only defeated desires
Drenching the spirit with gloom that comes
From losing every battle to the one who will
Finally overthrow the light with darkest night
The Battle of Gettysburg was fought July 1-3, 1863 in and around Gettysburg, Pennsylvania by Union and Confederate Soldiers during the American Civil War. This battle involved the largest number of deaths during the war and is often described as the war's turning point. The North won this battle with General Lee's forces.
A Historic Event Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
September 18, 2020
4/14/17
Across the ages
There was many changes
During the beginning, middle and end of phases
Above and below any stages
Some left to be found, written upon pages
Leaving a lot or little to if any traces
Among any places
Considered tiny or spacious
Regardless of their being nearby basins
There is nothing funny about starvation
Nor the greed of certain corporations
Makes me have more rage than Jason
With a hockey mask, causing mayhem
Current situations
May have involved more complications
Close and far from any vegetation
Currency came in different faces
Among many nations
Or federations
Above and below the basement
Near and far from any pavement
People making and taking payments
Due to desperations
Some continually gave into temptations
Had hesitations
And made zero preparations
Meanwhile others reached the intended destination
Achieving a state of elevation
After much determination and hard work, followed a possible celebration
Or revelation
With concentration
Have some motivation
From within find more inspiration
While making adaptations
Throughout trials and tribulations
Many civilizations
You can see in person, or only through illustrations
Certain locations
Full of radiation
And/or known to have a dangerous reputation
Still yet to be proven with a solid explanation
Continual paranormal investigations
Regarding anything, accurate portrayals or misrepresentations
Unknown or famous
It was or wasn't caught on surveillance
Crystal clear picture quality or blurry with some grayness
Rituals conducted on certain occasions
Some of which involve shamans
Meanwhile apprentice or master, blacksmith and masons
May be wearing protective aprons
Working on something considered complex or fairly basic
Near and beyond any waters with or without crustaceans
By: Dalton Ogletree
Life is sometimes too baffling,
Life is sometimes too frightening,
Life is sometimes too gleaming,
Where everyone is so struggling...
A thing called Life it is...
A thing called 'knife' it is... (2)
It is too sharp by which we DIE, DIE, DIE...
Life's sometimes too hopeless,
Where pure affection and benevolent love is worthless,
Life's a catastrophe where hindrances follow,
They are not less than what is called 'sorrow',
Life's a maze in your strongest phase,
Life's a big murder case where detectives chase,
Life's a big flood where desperations come with rage,
Life's a bloody cage where we are imprisoned for kidnapping Larry Page,
Life's a star where desires nurture from our heart,
A thing called Life it is...
A thing called 'Skype' it is... (2)
Where we connect with our dear ones,
Relations which are healthy ones,
Life's an earthquake where worries dominate,
Life's an adventure where we set our venture,
We are scavengers of heart,
It is when vagaries start,
So, Friends, ENJOY LIFE,
Just think it as your loving wife...!!!
On the market square
A new busker was in town
We all stood and looked
Reaching for our coins
We tossed them into his bag
We kept looking back
Such careful balance
While he played the violin
Dressed for a circus
Calm and collected
He moved with out any fear
Never looking up
The sweet notes rang out
Classical talent for sure
Right there in the street
The image remains
I can see him in my sleep
Processing my dreams
How like life, I think
We all walk on fragile space
Balancing our fears
At those same moments
The sun is out and we breathe
Playing the tunes we know
I'm glad I saw him
Inspiring me to rethink
My desperations
THE CONDITION WE LIVING IN:Part 2:
The condition we living in,
The country is full of danger and doom.
Things are badly getting hard.
Politicians and technocrats are always deepening the afflictions of the citizens.
Always on the television debating aimlessly on unreasonable subjects.
They keenly rant to impress…with the idea to mislead the minds of the poor natives.
And it seems all hope is totally lost.
They ask us to trust them with our thumbs for development,
But we find them nowhere after they’ve won the polls.
“A dreadful story of disappointment and agony”,
Religion and politics are wiping out loyalty and self-actualizations.
In fact, theocracy is diminishing the peace and comfort of the land,
Instead of empowering the populace to understand reality.
The condition we living in,
Education is held preciously as a mandatory factor to individual establishment,
But at the end of the tunnel, the supposed light to be seen is replaced by darkness.
Lack of employment and resources will then serve its victims with frustrations.
The available jobs ranging in every sector too is always on sale,
And it even lacks a vital assurance.
This is the phase where dreams are shattered,
I mean this is where good people are nurtured into bad ones.
The stage that inseparably feralizes the youth, propagate insubordinations and desperations.
Speculatively, this is where the concentration is aligned towards personal interests and gains.
People begin to trade their integrity with all manner of disgust (prostitution, cyber fraud, human trafficking, theft and what have you).
Life in Gold Coast,
Indeed, this is the condition we living in.
The flaming arrow flew far through the night sky,
shot from a wretched soul, lost in the abyss.
The tip is soaked in the blood of his deep longings,
may it find its mark and return healing bliss.
A powerful warrior and archer was he,
lowly reduced by the desperations of love.
His quill is empty, and fire's burning out,
one last hope lies with his Angel up above.
Many scars are left from battles fought and won,
yet as he ages his strong will is sinking.
Only one chance for the revival of faith,
true love must be stirred in her tender thinking.
Many years of searching have left him stranded,
in a dark, cold wilderness of loveless fear.
Riddled with deceit, demons are closing in,
sadness eases nothing, he can't shed a tear.
As he kneels down in hunger and blinding thirst,
to his Father God, he makes his final plea.
"Lord, let her find me and mend love's broken wings,
restore the tenderness, dying inside me!"
The flaming arrow falls to the earth at dawn,
into the passion of a fair maiden's heart.
With torrid yearning for the feel from this flame,
She prays, "Let me find him, that true love may start."
Staring through the sullied glass
Ever present…
A transom of silent reflections
Standing amid us…
Dirtying with every irate grousing
Thick and hazy…
Our windowpane painted shut
Always locked…
Gazing through at one another’s faces
Slowly fading…
Eyeing the desperations of moving lips
Hearing silence…
Cold Desperation 2.18.97
A man stands solemn, stinging waves realized.
Thoughts become narrow, decisive darkness abounds
Fears withdrawn, loneliness encounters the chose
Winds embrace the fading light, spills unto forever.
Cities lies devouring spirits time realizes death
Waves without souls imagined, lost without destiny
Moments remembering maiden’s sorrows unrealized
Time endless day’s forgotten, needless joys released.
Lonely avenues of forever tempted, deception is now
Feeling tomorrows pain invokes thoughts past done
Dreams forgiving intentions longing for night now
Desperations kiss of time unfilled losing the past.
Coldness shadowing images of deceit, decaying
Darkness knowing loves unresponsive truth calling.
© 1997 David J. Mitchell
.
On the day after the war, I had organs and limbs to offer you. I’d give you hands for acknowledgment and legs for support. Build forts made of sweat and tears, letting the blood escape our body. You offered to give up your sight so I could see, but with ignorance like mine, I did not want to believe whatever your eyes were telling me. I am asking you for nothing because that's what you have to offer me. Even when the war’s passed and we’re living days before nights and nights after days, you became the shadow that stopped light from passing by. You became deformed like a bird born without wings, like a child in an environment where rewards were rape and where punishments were bruises. Loss after loss, because you had cried in bed. Your father would walk in the room to find you collapsed on the floor, and whether you were dead or alive, you lived under a shed of never believing you could be loved.
Until the day you died I realized what you had to offer was yourself. You could not tell me that sight was what I needed because what I needed was you. With the right number of machetes, we cut through deformations and constant desperations on hopeless frustration. Even if you used the machete to cut through your skin, I offered spare arms after the war. Even if you tore my space and time because I’m trying to climb on a mountain without rocks, you believed you had something up to offer because I had run out of limbs like legs or arms. And even if the separation of transporting organs and ourselves were too far, we found ourselves trying to sell something we never knew we had.
Realization.
Every fascination becomes a bauble
a gold encrusted noose
on which to dangle
the desperation of appeal
Stuffed into feathers fashioned
cushions fighting for the adverts
these sown together facsimiles
is the me in expressive tailor-made
And your life a piece of art work
each symbols collectible remark
paints the mask
of who you never really are
In the mirror dissatisfaction
daily judgment of perfection
you wear it like a scar
never a smile for who you really are
If you were and only could be
more faultless than you really should be
a photo posed abstracts anatomy of beauty
the accommodation of magazine publicity
Every fascination becomes a bauble
a gold encrusted noose
on which to dangle
the desperations to appeal
a presentation of nothing that is real
such are the cruel theaters of the skin
betraying a soul wishing not to be constrained within
Learning and not gaining the knowledge of truth,
virtues loss that talent is sold by reason proof.
The intellect in doubt when stupidity is confident,
the ignorance and its conscientious consequent.
The atheist’s ego and stress to believe in higher power,
recognized by being corrected and turning sour.
The loss of integrity by prudent act of knowledge,
but foolish expose that folly inferior grudge.
Delight of senseless proof in fact,
killing the potential of embrace in act.
Emotional intelligence the sphere of love,
believing or not are desperations for all above.
The power to control needs a story told,
ageless entities forever bold.
Entities of numbers have endless frames,
giving scientist room to theoretic claims.
Belief is the freewill of individuality,
where big bang becomes a lollipop sanctuary.
Expensive education the holy drag,
where every degree is a smoking ***.
By turning times to become a admired elite,
the evolution to turn into a Aphrodite.
The consequence of ego’s appetite,
making love to ones owns satisfied.
between cries
between hopes
between smiles and desperations
there is life
and
between minds
between angers
between hearts and compassions
there is love
then,
what happened between you and me?