Best Disenchanted Poems
Disenchanted sandcastles
Alone on a silent shoreline,
sea breeze emotions paint my skin
Sands of time slip away as I count the stars
wondering why so many seem to smile,
when I don’t
Storm fence pickets stand straight,
weathered of years watching
Holding at bay the impending dunes
where my footprints once shared these moments
with another
Salt water teardrops fall,
meeting the beach in sorrow’d pools,
lonely silhouettes of my heart shaped shadows
empty and vacant, longing for that one
to forgive
Disenchanted sandcastles disappear with the tide
as do these words we compiled together
never to be written again, on paper or in the sand
Now I only watch my dreams fade into the horizon,
vanishing forever
My muse did her fealty recuse
My honor she did stealthily reconnoiter
My discourse was grounds for divorce
Finding my writing no longer enlightening
My blithe parlance no longer my mistress did entrance
With my prose she did forthrightly dispose
Each short she did subsequently abort
Each regaling verse did prudently disburse
Each perforated line truncated with lackluster shine
Each conjured sentence only increased my penance
Each glamorous byline she did smugly decline
Each dilated phrase with a bridling border did encase
Each gilded stanza a burnished extravaganza yielding no artful bonanza
Each tethered word coagulated into a stolid curd
Each bloated quote sunk my creative float deeper in the moat
Each lofty rhyme labeled too smarmy and sublime
My metric time no longer struck a concordant chime
Each literary device neatly spliced would not even a novice entice
Each repetitive, stagnant metaphor made my verse a bore
Each strained, tortured simile engendered no empathy
Each supplanted metonymy a shock wave lobotomy
Disenchanted
The harbinger of consequence unexpected
that blows cool breeze or fetid air in mind's inner spaces_
Then wafts away to not ever comeback! For so unwanted,
those misleadingly obsequious embraces...
Penned: 02/02/2023
2:26 a.m.
Las Vegas, Nevada
The Disenchanted Cottage
There was a clearing in the wood where once a charming cottage stood.
It was a dark and dismal land, a barren place of stone and sand,
Where nothing green had ever grown, the reason why was never known.
A dreary land, and what is worse, the rumor was it had a curse.
‘Twas never said by who or why, and interest faded by and by.
It was here a newlywed did bring his wife to hearth and bed.
And even in their wedded bliss, they felt that something was amiss.
In early days, these two would toil to try to grow crops in this soil.
It never happened. Things were bad. And then they lost their new-born lad.
Yet they both worked until they dropped, and still not one poor measly crop.
After years of working hard, their hands were calloused, tough and scarred,
And still no respite was in sight. They knew they could no longer fight.
One evening, sitting by the fire, when nearing time they should retire,
The husband looked up at his wife, remembered only years of strife,
Back-breaking days of endless work, and in his mind some evil lurked.
It isn’t known what happened next, but reader, here’s what I suspect.
Some demon hand took hold then fled – the man set fire to hearth and bed.
The wife he’d loved was never found, and nothing’s left –burned to the ground.
The devil took the poor man’s mind, and now he roams, alone and blind.
His memory’s wiped away and gone, a victim of The Temper’s spawn.
A shallow grave deep in the wood where long ago a cottage stood.
There were shades of tranquility
aching 'neath civilization's cry,
still blood was shed amid glorified
borders of battlefield's convoluted calling,
each magnified footprint pooled crimson
filled ideologue's of disenchantment
amidst revolutions of ill-chosen power,
marching to drumbeats of fool's gilded dogma
I was blinded to the autonomy
Of the actions committed in the time
Moonfall hesitated, and did not see
Malice in the eyes that were naught to be mine.
The crescent curves of a smile's sliver;
Indecision of skin, rancid and smooth;
Plush sentences congeal as I quiver;
Thoughts so careless, teeth dripping wir'y sooth.
My sight could not pierce nightfall-scathingly
Battened down were my mind and eyes, depraved
by sour medicine dreams filling me,
Unwillingly, with satire not staved.
The birr which I painted your portrait with
Disenchanted my world, a cause for death.
Disenchanted
Did she love him?
Eyes as bright as the moonlight she slipped away in
Laugh as dark as the world she lived in
Her lips
They were the softest he'd ever touched
But her tongue was dipped in poison
And he's still struggling to breath
She spoke in poems that made his heart beat faster
Her skin was painted with art
Some of her own creation
She was his own personal masterpiece
Her mind was made of galaxies
We'd never understand
Rivers flowed through her veins
She sometimes let drip
Daisies grew in her stomach
She drowned them when she couldn't smile anymore
She's a mystery he still struggles to understand
She's been drowning for a while now
But he didn't know how to swim
Her screams and threats still sound angelic
Despite the demonic in her motive
She used to tell him 'love will kill you slowly."
And he always replied with "Then i guess you'll be the death of me."
Did she love him? She swore that she did
But he saw how she looked and kissed those other men
Making their tongues tie in amazement
At the rhythm she spoke in
The way she fingered their messages
Like she used to do for him
Some say the only man she loved is Jack Daniels
She's been gone for going on two years now
But only God knows when she decided to check out
She still loves the way his heart breaks
With every injustice and deadly fate
She was his sun and stars
But lately she's been bringing more shadow than light
Her skin still burns to touch
Now all he has is the fading whispers of 'please' and this lingering regret
And he tries to recall
The words she etched into his lungs
He tries to remember
Did she love him?
I'm bored and there's relief from it
that's just the way I feel
my eyes are addle I admit
a plight I won't conceal
Listlessness is visible
this is the reason why
this town's a mirrored tinsel
with a platinum color dye
You're jaded and mishandled
and your insights all but bleak
your voice is clearly stifled
I tune it out each time you speak
Maybe I need to leave the suburbs
with lawns of fake green hues
oblivious to rounded curbs
I dream of urban views
Shows about reality
Get my news from MTV
Ugly people everywhere
Kids today just don't care
Where's the passion where's the fun
Video games eclipse the sun
Online conversations rule
The internet's our research tool
End of times? Have to wait and see
Things today so literally
Tsunami here, earthquake there
Freaky weather everywhere
Why's this poem got to rhyme
No problem man I've got the time
Got your gold card, big SUV
Welfare generosity
No more teachers, no more books
E-zine publishings the hook
Find the paper, find the pen
Find your niche, your call, your zen
Talk to people get a clue
Don't let it be the end of you
Get a job, take a chance
Grab some rythym, bust a dance
Try a new thing, remember the old
Be a big baby when you catch a cold
Pamper yourself, flatter your friends
You won't find yourself alone in the end
Hope you like it, hope you care
At least I had the strength to dare
in dismay
disheartened
disillusioned
why am i invisible
unheard
hardly discernible
out of my element
i don’t belong
still i will continue
to sing a song
stranded
on my desert island
sending adrift
my message in a bottle
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~A POEM BORN~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on February 1, 2020 for contest STRAND SELECT A sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention
Determined They Were Disenchanted
We did determine they were disenchanter,
After Trump would take them for granted;
Had occurred;
Trouble up stirred;
Seeds of misery and collusion had planted.
Jim Horn
God and I Se Eye To Eye
When God and I will see eye to eye,
Beautiful will have been a blue sky;
Stars that shine;
With Him dine;
Know he never would pass me by.
Jim Horn
Know why world can be full of confusion,
Delusion and Collusion.
I am as an infant
Reaching
For the stars
Above my crib
Fascinated so
By shiny
A piece
Of metal scraps
And lacquered wood
Hanging
By silver threads
On the lattice
Of the skies.
And finally, the time has come...
the butterflies flew away,
and the bees ran out of honey.
Engulfed in the smouldering dusk of a fractured nation,
A voice claws through the cracks of static screens,
And suppressed speakers,
A distorted hymn for the disenchanted,
A battle cry for the misled.
The people in power berate us with
Propaganda and paranoia pumped into our living rooms,
From the television with a cacophony of curated fear,
A scaremongering symphony creating a state of compliance.
“Don’t wanna be an American idiot,
Don’t want a nation under the new media,
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mind America.”
The words spit like sparks from a severed wire,
A requiem for the deferred,
And truth seekers are emancipated with the enlightenment of electrifying lyrics.
As voices are drowned in the deafening cheers,
Green Day plays on, dropping truth bombs,
Broadcasting rebellion,
Sparking conversations,
Immortalized as an international calling card from the woke.
The deceitful lies within the American flag dissolve,
Like a politician’s fading promise,
Its stars drip, evaporating the hopes of tomorrow,
Its stripes in disarray,
Yet from the decay came awareness.
Bringing hope for generations
With a chorus that rallies us on repeat,
A political opera that refuses to die in vain.