Best Disheartening Poems
open a blind eye ~ and see you're being duped by those using AI
sniff out those taking credit for cheating ~ real poets they're defeating
a concept I can't accept ~ from people whose poetry is inept
sometimes it's really difficult to prove ~ but an issue to behoove
call them out if it matters ~ don't serve them trophies on silver platters
if you couldn't care less ~ it's no wonder poetry soup is a mess
disheartening to say the least ~ is it possible to slay the beast
it's happening, there's no doubt ~ they're being given far too much clout
this message may be falling on deaf ears ~ if so, then I give up... cheers!
Tiptoeing fond emotions how playfully you tease
Titillating seductively my memories to appease
Springs that once blossomed passionate appeal
When indulgent eyes met contours of your zeal
Tantalizing tenor of love quixotic rhythms reveal.
I hear those melodies, romantic heartbeats revive,
Pulsing strings of heart on its tempo they thrive
Promising forgotten vibes, fervid past is still alive
When gently you arrive awakening frozen dreams
Delighting love-beats, crooning amorous themes.
You sense as I do, why unsated feelings still woo,
Why the un-bloomed seasons are trying to renew
Autumns full of gilded hues you once withdrew
Disheartening two ardent souls beholden and true;
As love now rustles anew, what am I to construe?
Oh! how ebulliently you bloomed in our first kiss
When blazing impulses tolled moments of bliss,
I recognize those footprints as delicately you spree
In courtyard of longings, venerating you and me,
As whispers of intimacy implore in euphoric plea.
July 18, 2021
Poem of the day on July 19, 2021
Placed 1st: A Brian Strand Rhymed Contest
What causes someone to sink so low
And let an upright spirit to kneel and bow
To the pressures they are unable to undo
Neither can reverse this malady nor subdue?
Let us not someone retreat in the darkest nook
Before we try all the remedies in the book,
Replenish her love and together ardently pray
And shower her with care night and day.
Disheartening it is to see one of our own thus bear
The burden that lays on her heavy and rare;
Hang in there, Linda! Have faith--PERSEVERE,
Forget not who you are--The poet Destroyer!
Wishing you all the best, Linda, and a speedy recovery!
~12/2/14
~Fighting Depression Contest by Shadow Hamilton
Twas the night before Christmas and I was a gasp
at the rumors that filled me with an odious fright.
For Santa Claus was now tired of working for free
and would be harvesting organs well into the night.
He would be looking for kidneys, livers and hearts
as well as others too numerous to mention.
All this was designed to lower his cost of production
and help his Elves with their healthcare and pension.
The reporters reported the disheartening news
that dear Santa had put an end to holiday cheer.
And to lock all our windows and batten the doors
to prevent a Christmas which could end only in tears.
Now the Media's record of telling the truth
was often wrong and extremely spotty at best.
So I had faith in Saint Nick and his message of hope
and would not give in to the lies they address.
So I fell into slumber to awake Christmas morning
and put my trust in the jolly old Elf.
But awoke latter that night when the stomping of hooves
caused several books to fall from the shelf.
Quickly grabbing a candle... I flew down the stairs
to see my tree laden with presents and toys.
As dear Santa had come through with his usual flair
and my trepidation turned to wonder and joy.
So I opened a window and peered through the night
and spotted the old Elf at the head of his sleigh.
I heard him yell from afar as he drove out of sight,
'You should rest in bed for most of the day.'
I pondered his point... unsure what he meant
as my body began to shimmy and shiver.
And as sure as the bells that would ring Christmas morn...
that fat bastard had taken half of my liver.
So as I lay in the bed and considered my stress
and the reason for my tension and plight.
But put it aside... when I realized by giving an organ
I put the spirit of Christmas in a more favorable light.
The End
Night before Christmas Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Date: Nov 29/2019
there’s something so endearing
about a late fall sun
so mellow so sultry
a warm toasty glow that lingers
and penetrates your skin
reaching through to the bone
your body craving it
moments so rare
you want to treasure
and stretch out
knowing how few and precious
those last rays really are
before the clouds and snow
winter will be long
and the cold disheartening
so soak up the energy...
of that october sun
let it kiss your cheeks
slowly utter its last goodbyes
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~BYGONE DAYS OF SUMMER~ 2020
AP: 2nd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on June 14, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S SELECT H sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
Love without hope, is a rose without fragrance
Random musical notes, that have no cadence
An extinguished candle, by an unpromising wind
Where the heart panhandles, to a disheartening whim
by Daniel Turner
Christmas Castaways
My good friend Jerry’s unemployment had run out
I feared print journalism’s future was in doubt
But while we commiserated on Christmas Eve
A disheartening report was broadcast on TV
Local law enforcement had been busy that day
People found living in the woods had been cast away
These homeless families had set up tents on state land
And police had ordered these squatters to disband
How heartless it seemed that these souls should be tossed out
Poor folks who had nothing and learned to do without
We shut off the TV, couldn’t take it anymore
And headed for a café with joyful décor
Just twenty degrees as we drove down the highway
Where a sight neath a bridge caused far more dismay
A couple and their small child huddled together
Trying hard to stay warm in cold winter weather
Sad images of Bethlehem flashed through my mind
With no room at the inn for the savior of mankind
I looked at my friend and he returned my glance
We both felt this family needed a second chance
“Pull over,” he murmured, “we can’t just leave them here
These folks deserve to share in our holiday cheer”
So money that could have bought steak dinners for two
We used to buy hamburgers for our five-member crew
Some cash left over for a room at Motel Six
Not a real solution – a temporary fix
We returned Christmas Day; our church would take them in
But they had checked out; it was half past eleven
For long I’ve wondered what happened to this family
And what each Christmas holds for those who are needy
*Recollection of Christmas, 2007, when the economy started to fail.
Wonder Clouds
Sometimes I wonder,
And then I wander, in my thoughts.
What lies above those clouds up high?
Beyond the bleached, yellow sometimes blue sky.
Some say that clouds are but a mere cloud of vapour,
But is that true?
Sometimes I wonder,
And then I wander, what is above those clouds?
Maybe an entire civilisation,
Of dragons and fairies and queens and kings,
Where there are lilies that jump around and toads that sing,
Wolves big and bad, pumpkin carriages round and stout,
Rainbows, unicorns, pearls,
And all those wonderful things, tiny tots dream about.
Sometimes I wonder and then I wander,
Maybe that is where He lies,
Superseding all,
Guiding us above,
Uplifting our falls,
Ruling over fates and destinies,
Lives and deaths,
But then does He really exist?
Sometimes I wonder and then I wander,
That’s where I will find good old peace,
A holy sane kingdom
Where there is serenity, beauty, probably freedom,
Where there is no worry, no sadness, no negativity.
Where there is no tiring search and no disheartening find,
But then isn’t peace a state of mind?
Sometimes I wonder and then I wander,
Maybe that’s where actual life is,
With trees and birds and breeze and rivers,
Where there are no dark lights and cold chills or shivers,
Where there are playing children, whispering mothers and laughing elders,
High above the rain and thunder of the world,
Where everyone is blessed with an eternal kiss,
But without an end, can a beginning persist?
Sometimes I wonder and then I wander,
What lies above those clouds?
Maybe something we have uncovered,
Or something not meant to be discovered.
But imagination lives on,
And dreams never die,
And theories never perish,
Because that’s where true creativity lies.
Whatever is above there,
I believe it’s not very far,
From an open mind and a welcoming heart,
But I can’t help but wonder,
How fateful the birds really are,
How hateful the birds really are.
Manya Chopra
15 years old
Mumbai, Maharashtra, India.
Ephemeral
Tis not mystifying, though disheartening,
that we are simply passing shadows
…. a mere breath exhaled…. transitory
Sunrises numbered at first drawn breath
though each stand of hair is lovingly counted
A lone flower in a field of waving grass
will pass unnoticed, once flourished.
The wind becoming the only witness,
to its existence, as its scent is carried
across the meadow....fragrance dissipating
Swift waters of life slowly-- but surely--
wear away our most precious of stones
their features gently altered with time
until the final last grain deteriorates
finding rest, peacefully, on a distant shore
NOTE: This poem was inspired by the book of Psalms as well as Nature and MY FAITH.
When winter months become morose
And everything around is blue and froze
Gets disheartening even for the eskimos
Their morale starts to dwindle and decompose
They tread most lightly on cautious tippytoes
For fear their neighbors will become bellicose
They bite their tongue rather than use such prose
As ‘up your nose, my friend, with a rubber hose’
It is uplifting to dream of colorful scenarios
Any warm place where the blazing sun glows
Where the desert air gently blows
While ocean waves roll in sultry rows
All agree a trip down south would be most grandiose
Trading bikinis for their parka and heavy winter clothes
By pools they’d feign being divinely comatose
Drink in hand adopting the hot vacation pose
Stretched out on their hammocks eating pistachios
Laying back being busy counting colored rainbows
Hey CabanaBoy we’d truly really hate to impose
But would you please massage us from our head to our toes
Before their fair skin burns and redness undergoes
They all head back to their respective bungalows
Wondering should they dress go catch one of the shows
Or rest in bed before calling on one of the local rodeos
While visiting the souvenir shop one decides to propose
To send home a postcard showing tropical buzzards and flamingos
With a heartfelt message that needs not be verbose
For sure they’ll be the envy of both our friends and foes
AP: 1st place 2021
Broken Back
They use words like
Cold
And
Crossing
Sighs
To describe something romanticised
Obscured verbs
In which to hide
To hide
Romanticised
The suffering
Without a name
It asks you not to worry
A vacant voice
Verbalised
Tears
She cried
Lies
Nomenclature of disheartening
Hope
Borrowed between shadows
Between hearts
Flowers
And chocolates
At peace
At last
Unburdened
Released
Love
Child
Romanticised
To a field of waving poppies
Gently shook the rifles
And slow blood let
Picturesque
And before God
Such cruelty breathes animate
Stand
Brave
Courageous
Fool
Dancing in the rain
The paupers smile
Romanticised smile
Of a rich divide
To beggar belief
And it’s easy
So very easy
To explain away
How life
Is just made this way
They use words like
Freedom
Romanticised acceptance
Short words
Of description
To present an illusion
Of perfection
The good die young
It could happen to anyone
But only the good die young
Young
Children
Anyone
God
Space
Illusion
Nothing to prove
Romantic death
Of death
Who bides his time
In skeletal black cloth
And bargains away
In celluloid
The faces we can’t forget
Those who told us
We would never regret
Anything
The break scape
The big escape
A monumental world of landscape
And freedom
Beyond mountains
Beyond worlds
Beyond words
Romanticised
When Nancy told Donald to wait
For his speech on a different date
He was naturally riled
And, like any young child,
He responded by throwing his weight.
So he canceled the trip she had planned
To see troops in a faraway land.
For the place where he's at
Has no tit without tat
And he has to prove he's in command.
Many children outgrow nyah nyah ways
But some carry them all of their days.
It's disheartening, though,
That such venom should flow,
Leaving all who read news in a daze.
See the impacted eyes, heavy
and the frozen heart, begging
to be released; the tongue
dry, but the cheeks like a flume.
See the round table keep things
close to their chest, lest they spill
the fragility, each glass fragment
that stabs, glues together like
a madman’s vase, complete
with a bouquet of black roses.
Indecent the descent of disheartening;
refusal to believe in uncoupling;
what a crap shoot, show, expletive.
See touch, the tangible eyedropper,
mike drop, warm shawl; a momentary
squeeze of a lemon. Lies go down the drain -
momentarily, mightily, momentously;
bubbling up as a panacea when drained
of all kith and kin; their comfort
and understanding underwhelming,
often pitiful, a pittance. what is needful
is others likewise in a sinking boat,
keeping one another just above
the water line; bailing out each
other’s pain; finding camaraderie
in the breaking; the flowers in the vase
turn dark blue and purple - deep.
See the healing begin, for some.
Some run, some squeeze the lemon,
some rely on the lies. See the death mask
tremble, then a phantom’s half;
never quite whole but jewels
replace the wizened half.
See the pain, the cuts, and crimson eyes.
Don’t become a master of disguise.
See the help, the forest through the trees,
remember your honeybees
given to eternity; find them in the honeycomb.
Once a young girl, hopeful and bright,
Now transformed into a monster of night.
Her faith shattered, replaced by doubt,
Lies now the truth, she's lost without.
Tears of joy turned to fearful cries,
Laughter a mask, covering her sighs.
Sleep fraught with battles, demons within,
Her childhood dreams, now screams begin.
Wings once soaring, now broken and hushed,
Chains replace freedom, her spirit crushed.
Her once warm soul, now shadowed and cold,
Lost in a darkness she's unable to behold.
Within her eyes, the truth does lie,
In a world of deceit, her innocence dies.
Punches masquerade as comforting hugs,
Love found only in disheartening drugs.
Poison becomes her daily sustenance,
Pain her solace, a sinister dance.
Pills she consumes, sweets to deceive,
Alcohol her escape, a numbing reprieve.
Once a seeker of love, now forced to hide,
A soul once filled, now empty inside.
For that little girl, with dreams so grand,
Transformed into a monster, no hopes in hand.
Whenever tears roll down
somebody's face,
and whether it brings joy, reward or pain:
it matters to someone
whose life, somehow, has broken him down,
or has lifted him up through grace;
it matters when one rejoices,
and sees in victory
what his bewildered eyes
couldn't ever have imagined it to be...
He chose the path to glory
without harboring suspicions,
or being frightened by unseen woes
and hard-and fast rules;
he made swift choices
and built up his courage from nothing;
and what his fearless mind couldn't perceive,
wasn't so impossible to dream,
but surely achieved
through grit and indisputable duty...
Whatever that solemn oath
relied on a certain promise, he never lost heart,
because his valor never seemed to lessen a bit;
and he was taken above and beyond his fears
by not foreseeing any disheartening defeat:
confidence had given his untiring feet a steady beat...
It matters to someone to be recognized,
and cherish that moment of gladness:
perhaps the only moment to be remembered
and be locked away in his past;
a brave soldier at his best,
never settling for anything less,
always going above and beyond his expectations,
to honor and safeguard the Country that he loves...