Best Dulling Poems
'Neath umbra skies I seek a mirrored moment
the breeze a capricious charmer
blows serpentine sways to life
a ballet of tall switchgrass dancers
sweeping edges raspy green
dulling in the ever dimming light
their brassy symphony a soft cymbals’ siss
lure my thoughts to ramble a willowy maze
mesmerizing my mental landscape at sunset
whispers lulling my linger
moon-shimmer lends its voice
to chanting chimes in magenta magic
dropping notes afloat on aging August’s currents
like a sprinkling of stardust
upon a cradlesong
hymns of Venus vespers soothing me
my silhouette glides
a twilight shadow an astral body
with a vitality all its own
as the unwed wind ushers
my air brushed footsteps
to where wild whimsy wafts my sighs
free from fetters
a fading breath liberated to dusk
vibrations in violet call my name
I have found the echo to my essence
a spirit aswirl in a whirl of charcoal veils -
I seize a sylph’s escape
and amidst the darkened veils.. we dance
Susan Ashley
August 24, 2019
~ Fifth Place ~
Premiere Contest: A Brain Strand Choice No 1185
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Contest: N/A Rerun 3
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~ Poem Of The Week ~
Week of September 1, 2019
Categories:
dulling, angel, august, death, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
Our dark founding father, of American literature,
A sinister beacon of darkness, lighting the way
Into the darkened abyss of mankind’s soul.
Within the galleria of madness, he is the
Grandmaster of the black ink, and it's
Written words of terror.
In thus the shadow realm, does his spirit
Still roam, on the cutting edge of fear,
A fine thin line, is drawn between reality,
And fictions illusionary world.
Life's a shunned, abandonment’s creation,
The lord's misbegotten son, embraced
The night's cloak, in it's power
His only salvation unto history's
Remembrance, is found a truth's
Justice and notability's respect.
Loves passionate compliant servant,
Dashed against the rocks of life itself,
Broken and damaged, he rose above
The waves of poverty, and the under
Current of tragedies broken
Heart.
Some may say he wrote from the after
Effects that laid, at the bottom
Of the bottle.
Or afterfeeds drug endued comma, dulling
The emotional nerves concept between
Right and wrong, the social exceptionable
Norm.
But we care not what others wish to believe,
For we honor him, those of us the dark poets,
As the father whom lead the way, between
Light and dark.
Dearest Edger Allen Poe, the legend, the man,
A spiritual dark representative, with pens quailed
Ink at his command.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
dulling, character, dark, history, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
I reach out
For the icy, dulling numbness
Of whipping winter winds
For the frozen laughter
Of ice packed play by snow-capped kids
I reach out
For the green, fresh spring grass
And the blooming of path side flowers
For the chirps of birds
In baby budding trees
I reach out
For the penetrating summer sun
And its fiery furnace of light
For the lazy dogs and the cool breeze
In summer shades
I reach out
For the autumn colors
Of lovely leaves ending their lives
For the hum of gentle animals
Working toward the winter
I reach out
For all of life and what it brings
For its substance, its character
Its emotions, its feelings.
And reaching for them
For the known and unknown
Works of God and all his beauty
I step lightly on this earth
As one man bound to duty
Categories:
dulling, adventure, dedication, endurance, freedom,
Form:
Free verse
.
This desk with its scattered papers,
blotted ink and unsealed envelopes…
passages penned and tossed
in the confusion that lives and breathes in my mind…my heart
Distance frames the walls of
the addressed…since canceled
Splintered dreams on the edges are worn,
time has shaved the moments…the places
on broken calendars swinging freely
of lost dates scratched within the numbered boxes
Sorrow carved in the fine oak grain
by an empty pen with dulling point…dented
Poetry sits meaningless
with rhyming phrases of hope…wishes…love
begging for but a brief visit,
only to be discarded between reams of teardrop leaflets
Verses formed deep within a vacant heart,
a lonely space, emptied by the loss
I write in an absolute mist,
fog induced renditions of another’s touch,
formulating in the same words…always the same words,
repeating in the darkness that sighs in rhythm of a flickering candle flame
Over and over,
echoing the halls of this barren heart
Shadows drain the breath
of hopeless desires…built on manicured dreams
within a world collapsing in shredded
prose, and fractured fingers, still writing
I am lost
without her…
10/14/16
The Poet's Ache
Greg Barden
Categories:
dulling, heartbroken, lonely, lost,
Form:
Free verse
Revealed in that ancient place
where roses become stone and lips dry as dead bone,
the ruins of love my home, hopeless heart shown damp as sorrow known,
rubble etched with tears of deceased romance, a barren face,
my hourglass of power tilted by a hand rough as sand,
body aching for velvet confection, soul suplicant for a loving land,
age dulling the dream for a companion champion, stifling the search,
venturing daily into the world of common hazard and animal angst
standing, fighting, surviving and creating alone, an eagle with no nest,
the sky infinite in distance, sea always pushing my vessel back to fortified beach,
Unexpected like beauty in hunting eyes
you arrived in my life's arena like a veteran of volatile virtue,
speaking as if prepared to die for desire, moving with mischevious fire,
you were my vulnerable Angel, most passionate pulse with carnivorous cries,
we consoled one another when truth seemed cold and trust had narrow view,
offering me the pinnacle pleasure of a Lady's plush rush, I became the love rider,
your flesh, a sanctuary of sexual salvation, your blood, the spirit of immortal rose
Divine Intervention guided you to me, and I to you, together the meaning of love grows
J.A.B.
Categories:
dulling, courage, devotion, encouraging, faith,
Form:
Epic
How can one man find
More faith in a crevasse of Siula Grande,
Than most will ever know,
Sitting beneath a pulpit on Sunday?
Dulling the truth to grow the census,
Merchants and cowards comfort the carnal ear.
Marketing Christ’s love without his conviction,
Left willful in sin with nothing to fear.
In half doctrines and custom alter calls,
Prostituting the truth with all forms of prosperity.
Akin to seeding hookers in the chambers of Heaven.
Deceived to death twice by hand and blasphemy.
Feeding wolves from among your own flocks.
In the banquets of ancient mystics and bride Blavatsky,
Word of Faith gorging on their mammon,
Left choking in an insatiable eternity.
A culture’s blue concessions are gone,
Giving more choices leaving Paul’s letters unread.
No church discipline or discernment left,
Testaments of burning flesh that once bled.
Refusing to submit to be broken.
Fading old blessings from past obedience.
Confusing favor with common grace,
Hypocrisy’s retribution birthed decadence.
Millions claiming the found life of the few,
In every eulogy and requiem,
Lukewarm afterthoughts of the Son,
Losing everything by never knowing him.
Despising the light of the living truth,
Lobotomizing guilt with the scalpel of ignorance.
Finding solace in the darkness of mystery.
Death marches infectious rainbows of tolerance.
Redefining roles and covenants in hemorrhaging lies
Under the pretense of the modern states,
Illusions of enlightenment killing somatic slaves.
Relativism’s heart courting the things he hates.
Enticed by the delusions of utopias,
Bound in the fables of autonomy.
Throats upon The two-edged sword,
In this American tragedy
-------------------------------------------------------
12.04.14
This poem attempts to capture the Fundamentalist view on certain issues with other movements within Christianity. Also, the man in the crevasse, chose a different kind of faith than you may have assumed.
Categories:
dulling, bible, christian, dark, death,
Form:
Didactic
The simplicity of life
Transparent as black glass
Bordering my ever contemplating mind
And the annoyingly optimistic
High pitched
And easily recognizable
Music of the Beatles
Struggles to overcome
my black soul
And forces the image of Paul and John
As they point in my direction
And shout for all to hear
And all to know
That I'm the real nowhere man
Making all my nowhere plans
For nobody
Just me
Alone in this place
No signs
To tell me where i am
No direction
To show me where to go
All of the houses
Match
No cars
No people
Just a dog
Barking in the distance
constantly
Every second
Of every day
Every night
Of every year
And nothing I can do
To silence the painful
Racking
And never ending noise
As it slowly drives me
Out of my mind
Every second
Of every day
Every night
Of every year
No sleep exists
No thought is clear
And when the lights go out
The grunting starts
Coming from under the bridge
But when I go
To inspect
There's nobody there
Just the growling
Of a disgruntled homeless man
Who's house I picture
Is now floating down
This never ending river
Of noise
As the snoring
The water
And the barking
harmonize
To form an overwhelming lullaby
Dulling my mind
As it goes on
forever
Woof
Snore
Whoosh
Woof
Snore
Whoosh
Pounding my ears
Constantly
Every second
Of every day
Every night
Of every year
Categories:
dulling, lifenight, me, night, ,
Form:
Free verse
I hope you smile, when you remember me.
Once a fleeting while, a thought of what could be.
I don’t mind the pain, a dulling sense of being.
Omnipotence to gain, yet a constant thought of fleeing.
Staring down the side, an end to the world.
Animosity has died, leaving a story unfurled.
Mass graves of meaning, an era destroyed unsurely.
A solemn act of weaning, a malicious act purely.
Mountains give way, oceans part in calamity.
Though a faith cannot say, there’s the feeling of amity.
An endless fire dies, left by the sick and twisted.
A prediction of lies, herding the weak to the wicked.
I remain once involved, longing for her last look.
A naive puzzle solved, scribbled hastily in a dusty book.
With nothing living behind,the sun shines tempestuously.
Longing to find, an angels breath held boundlessly.
Searching inward to reveal,I’m but just another lost soul.
Time moves forward forgetting to heal, a heart that is no longer whole.
Hearing an existential voice, a shouting that echoes emptiness.
A devastating choice, paving a way to cheerfulness.
I hear an ungodly choir, singing only to me.
A now extinct fire, laying at her effigy.
The girl I remember, promised no one could hurt us.
A subtle December, exposing a melting frozen truss.
A harrowing escape, not deserving of trust.
A grasp of the nape, turning all to dust.
Categories:
dulling, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
Our bodies are designed for birth and death,
the brain is subconsciously in control.
At birth, we instinctively take a breath
without being urged; we're born to our role.
Our bodies release endorphins at birth
to ease our passage, dulling birthing pain.
We arrive pre-programmed for life on Earth,
and it's all possible, thanks to our brain.
When dying, your body knows what to do;
you start to drink less, eat less, and sleep more.
Your brain releases endorphins anew;
ensuring your spirit is set to soar.
Death is beautiful; if you only knew
of the exultation that awaits you.
Categories:
dulling, angst, anxiety, beautiful, body,
Form:
Sonnet
The change is dynamic, a rhythm so sweet,
Every second, time dances to its beat.
Every moment, life, a constant flow,
Dulling if static, refusing to grow.
Life spins in cycles, a carousel of change,
Innocence fades, curiosity arranged.
Maturity's embrace, a shift so profound,
Old and wise, the whispers of age resound.
To savor life's flavors, a palette of shifts,
Continuous change, the essence it lifts.
Omnipresent like the weather's daily range,
Trees, flowers, Nature, in constant exchange.
Ocean tides, their course ever rearrange,
Life's woes metamorphose to joyous exchange.
Night surrenders to the embrace of the day,
Change, the constant in life's grand display.
"Love over anger," a wisdom declared,
Hope over fear, a truth to be shared.
Optimism triumphs over despair,
In love, hope, and optimism, a world we repair.
Categories:
dulling, change,
Form:
Rhyme
There's no beauty in the fur of your wings
When I catch you still and pin you down
Why all the flowers you visit
Are each more engrossing in its appeal
And yet you irk my curiosity, your
Splatter of glitter and color in dance,
Across dulling terrains, faces, you're
A beguiling lie, cloaked in motion
All eyes on you, none the wiser
You carry no weight of truth
You don't bear the cold nor the rain
But awaken a slumbering lust for cruelty,
When all is said and all is done,
I see your fragility, short-lived, vibrant, and free
A foil to life's enduring strife and sorrow;
So, you fleeting wandering, your fleeing I follow
You hold us captive, against envy and reason
Because there's beauty in the flutter of your wings
Categories:
dulling, adventurebeauty, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
My list is long today.
But the voice says sleep --
Don't engage,
Don't create,
Don't make the bed --
Sleep
Begone sunshine.
My mind falls to empty thought --
Is this dementia?
Will my mind curl up
and sleep to death?
Will I follow my mother into the depths
of lost thought and fabricated reality?
Will I know my husband
when I see him again?
Will I even find him?
Sleep
The depression lulls me back into myself
dulling the memory of lost tomorrows,
begun today,
nine years ago.
Categories:
dulling, death, husband, loss, sad,
Form:
Bio
A race.
Far flung and far fetched.
Begin's now.
A race for time.
Against Time itself.
The sands are flowing,
shifting like the Saharan dunes.
This is a race...a race against time.
The world, it's collapsing.
Everything.
Disasters, natural and our fault.
Increasing, more often than not.
A race...the race against Time.
Solutions to be found,
far out and uncomprehensible.
The world itself is reversing.
Anti-clockwise.
Turn around, see the light.
Time's luster is dulling,
fading with age.
Fading away, rusting.
Platinum facades, wiping away.
Implosion, destruction.
Insanity taking over.
Mindless death,
the curse of our race.
This is a race. A race against Time.
This is The Race...
What time is it?
Why, it's 3 till midnight.
The Race Against Time.
Categories:
dulling, hope, life, people, political,
Form:
Free verse
antidepressants
slow the evisceration
dulling guilt's knife edge
Jim was from Tuscaloosa
His remains flew home last year
professors applaud
sneering ripped knee pants coeds
stomp on old Glory
old vet asks for respect, no
deep breath, count to ten, unclench
Homicide bomber
seventy-two virgin quest
paradise, no doubt
Jim shielded a boy
Bomber in my AR’s sights
too slow, all sorts of fragments
We have done our job
And perhaps a bit too well
Our price tag hidden
The wolves half a world away
Panting in my ears, not yours
5/30/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
Categories:
dulling, america, thank you, veterans
Form:
Tanka
I
Just
Stand
Here
alone.
Factually,
A feat,
A pinnacle of
Engineering at almost
A thousand meters high,
A colossus, an omnipresence
Comparable to God-
a man made concept
advertised to exhaustion.
Amongst concrete caricature
cliche’d into postcards and keychains, I am
The subject, the focus and distinguished character;
an over- exaggerated needle in a haystack.
In status of Symbol of City, I am the entirety of the City-
Iron soaked cement stands for a point proven.
Isn’t that why you’re here?
Why exactly I was made in such manner perhaps
Remains more of a mystery to you than to me, I think.
I suppose its only a difference of our perspectives.
I cannot claim to understand it fully myself;
you’re only here to gaze into glare of glass panes,
To burn white spots into your vision;
a mirage dancing on a surface too hot to touch.
I don’t have much choice on the other hand- you put me here and made this mine.
The sun’s reflection on windows sink with the dusk,
harsh light dulling to transparency.
Its like only I can see the red lights shine through this golden city.
Categories:
dulling, city, evil, perspective,
Form:
Free verse