Best Dwelling Poems
The Darkness of Cold Oceans Dwelling Deepest
Into the utter darkness of cold oceans dwelling deepest,
there is far beyond any glimmer of hope an outer limit
that defines a dark realm of the true supernatural reality
existing beyond any iota of human understanding on Earth.
In this dark realm lies a catacombic-womb of dead souls
bled white from the inside-out-turning of sand-blasted
nightmares of pure evil that envelope into a desert storm,
whereby living-dead apparitions appear in the shadows.
In this Procrustean bed there lies these horribly-tortured souls
who are like fossils of a past strife-torn life—a past without
any mercy since the unloved ghosts who exist there sense a
palpable pain erupting deep within every second of eternity!
This achingly slow-death falls into a sentence as forgiveness
now is impossible and a weathered-weakness of bowels spiced
from this seabed's loving memory appear as a bright-white pearl,
and the golden sun rises and sets as rats spread the Black Death!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – August 15, 2018
(Quatrain)
I’ve been here many times before
The door still wears the same coat of paint
The gold colored doorknob
Have only few patches of gold left
The years of wear and tear evident
Sliding it open that old familiar smell
Wafts pass me, as if in a rush to escape…
The emptiness screams at me
In a fight to jolt my memory
Alas it’s not necessary
I use to spend days here
Recollection comes naturally
Days of lying on the couch
Soaking up the fresh sea breeze,
When the day was almost done
You sitting in your favorite chair
We would talk for hours at a time
Now all that’s left are memories
Laughter is gone and with it the sun
Too many open spaces
In this place where love use to dwell…
Hundreds of frenzied snakes
Slithering from her head
Looking at me
While her gaze wants
To turn me to stone
But I glance away
Knowing the damage
That can be caused
I met her
Dwelling in a cave
Unaware of most slang
But she endures
A painful existence.
This Medusa
A friend or fiend
You tell me
I need to know
But I will love her
Forever and a day
One half orange and one quarter lemon
Exchanging packages
Will be our right
True love
While romancing sunsets
Just remember
To avoid the gaze
When she’s beside herself
And all will be
Just fine
Dwelling abandon neglected
Not at all picturesque
This decaying house
Been condemn now for nineteen months
From the roof to the porch
Harvesting ferns in garden
Overgrown growths wild grasses dandelions
Up the swaying staircase
Window,door crack and broken a mess
The sun and wind whispers through the downspouts and eves
Condemn and abandon only one on the block sees
This abandon decaying condemn dwelling
While over the yard weeds prostates growing rosette wilds killing
This nonpicturesque abandon neglected decaying dwelling
7/16/20
1st Place placement in Contest
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Pilot daydreaming
Head in clouds
Lost bearings
Forgot parachute
Now playing
Harp
With angels
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 6 in Dr. Ram Mehta's "Septolet" Contest - July 2011
I think to myself: I’m safe; I am sound.
Crime in this neighborhood rarely is found.
Night’s dwelling means peace on my little street,
yet thoughts in my head go round and around.
Whose safety can really be certain these days?
On trees out my window I cast my gaze.
They bear a burden the winter has brought.
On their frail limbs the new fallen snow stays.
In some other city, someone else peers
out her window too, but this woman hears
a sound. Oh! It comes from inside the house!
She turns, horrified, as evil appears. . .
Her murder, once known, will prove compelling.
Snow trees are silent; they won’t be telling
whether the killer was someone she knew,
yet a monster broke into night’s dwelling.
for nette onclaud's "Into Night's Dwelling" Poetry Contest
Hades and Tormented Souls (the Dwelling)
(presenting a fragment of the second part promised)
Where the dark wind blows, lies abound
deep into a ravenous, hellish pit.
Lost souls cry and moan deep under ground
under evil torture each must submit.
Dark Hades, ancients called this gloom
agonizing souls, cast into Hell.
Hideous monsters working in every room
death's stinking odor the smell.
Shrill cries from pain immensely great
as tortured minds see so clear.
The miseries they and others sadly ate
embracing the dark seeds of fear.
Panic in one room, terror in another
burning brands searing souls.
So sweet the agonizing cries for mother
as demons reach their goals.
Each torment according to its worst sin
eyes gouged , for depraved acts.
Hearts sliced, tossed into a burning bin
tongues torched for lying facts.
Hands crushed for stealing other's gains
whips slashing across bloody backs.
Every torture imagined for greater pains
even burning in oil soaked sacks.
Deepest level, reserved for special guests
darkest demons there get to play.
Inflicting deeper pain by evil's requests
to those that thought never to pay!
Where the dark wind blows, lies abound
deep into a ravenous, hellish pit.
Lost souls cry and moan deep under ground
under evil torture each must submit.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-07-2015
Previous Note from the Acheron poem:
Previously presented was part one-
The Tumid River of Acheron (the journey) Part One-Revised.
The journey into HADES by way of crossing the Styx.
The river Styx is actually an offshoot of the Acheron
that splits into the Styx and the Cocytus.
Part two now has two lines written. It will be titled ,
Hades and Tormented Souls (the Dwelling)..
I have no preset limit to the second part, may be
longer or shorter. I suspect it will be even longer.
I hope the readers enjoy this write. I wanted to do
something dark and move away from all my love, romance
and Nature writes. A bit of variety to stir my
imagination...
I have made several corrections to this poem in the last
few days.
DWELLING IN HIS PRESENCE
Let Your Divine light shine upon us
Touch the heart and mind
Of our generation and the next
To completely surrender to You
Let the world kneel upon Your presence
May we bow down our heads and pride
To praise You and lift Your glory
As we cry for Your blessings
We love You
We lift up our hearts in Your name
We call upon Your holiness
Teach us to love You more
Teach us how to bend our selfish ways
Teach us to exalt Your Holy name
Touch our spirits
Embrace us with Your mercy
Keep us in Your loving arms
Keep reach with Your unending grace
Protect us from the harm of evil
Pardon our sins with Your love
We love You
We lift up our hearts
We call upon Your Holy name
Let us love You more
@ Copyright MELINE NGO. OCTOBER 11, 2015
IN-DWELLING PEACE
I went up and down in quest of peace
Indeed! I found one: an illusion
I proceeded in my hurt for peace
Obviously my bullet hit one
A wealth of joy filled my being
But was a wolf in sheep clothing
Down cast for shooting a wrong target
Enraged, furious, frustrated!
Aware of my illusion, I press further
With empire of enthusiasm I move
More conscious of what comes
But non resemble PEACE
I advanced the search
Patience and courage were wearing
Perturbed the propeller broken
I realized it dwell not on earth
Weary becomes my patience and courage
The gut to advance faded
Now camped and fed by perturbation
Agitation became the air I breathe
It dawn on me that PEACE, has no abode
Hold and embraced by illusion
I stumbled across an ancient treasure
Flipping the pages, was arrested
Behold, what I have been looking for
Reside in this scroll, PEACE
No wonder, no wonder
They call it the word of PEACE
Hot Child In The Urban Summer Dwelling
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" Poem about the heat in the city ....;) "
Hot Child In the Summer Urban Dwelling
The city streets are buckling under the sticky smoldering heat.
Urban life at this moment can be so draining while tensions are
high. People stop,wipe the sweat from their brow as they attempt
to inhale and breathe. "Hey I heard that wheeze from across the street Tony".
Heat choking the life out of us like a looming marauding monster.
Beads drip from angry faces while tempers flare, sirens roar in a city
of despair. Yes Will Smith's song "Summer Time" and the spark of
nostalgia from BBQ's help but its still Spring.
If you have the money you can take a drive down the Jersey shore
or to the Poconos cooling peaks.
A place to breath without choking pollution, heat advisory's and the smells of
unidentified unknown origins. Don't get me wrong there are allot of redeeming
qualities of summer in the city too.
Dinning alfresco, summer concerts, water ice, open fire plugs, Mister Softy
and block parties. Small reliefs of the constant three wheelers screeching
down the Blvd, fighting neighbors, and relentless dripping humidity.
As they say here on the east coast "If it weren't for the humidity I
wouldn't mind the heat". Sure you wouldn't ( wink)
Windows opened as the baby across the alley way cries and the guy
next door yells at his girlfriend while she fires back screaming
like a fish wife. The poor are getting their relief from a rubber hose
spraying water and the rich are relaxing in the Hamptons. Well I guess
if I had it like that I would enjoy it as well, then again I more
likely would open a home for battered women and children, build the
pool there. **** how I wish I had it like that.
I suppose theres no sense in complaining about the heat, just write
it out the best way I know how to deal. So excuse me while I leave
you now to step onto cool tiles of the tub, turn on the crystal clear
water and wash the clammy sticky heat down the drain. Into the Delaware
river of redemption as I take my sixth shower of the day (wink) .
By : Debbie Mills Kelly
Dwelling in the house of the King.
Is where I want to be.
Dwelling in the house of the Lord.
Is where I want to be.
Dwelling in the fruits of the King.
Is where I want to be.
Dwelling in the joy of the Lord.
Is where I want to be.
Dwelling in the love of the King.
Is where I want to be.
Dwelling in the peace of the Lord.
Is where I want to be.
Dwelling in the hope of the King.
Is where I want to be.
Dwelling in the trust of the lord.
Is where I want to be
Worship the King.
With all of your heart.
Worship the Lord.
Let your voices ring.
Blessed is the one.
Who trust in the King.
Blessed is the one.
Who trusts in the Lord.
There is a night so starry bright
I recall with such pleasure
it was in the middle of summer
the day had been a hazy hot one
I was in the wilds of Exmoor
sat quietly enjoying the solitude
as dusk lengthened into night
so the heavens light up with moonlight
No human noises up here to intrude
listening I hear first the sheep
odd whinny from a horse or two
as my ears attune I pick up much more
The whisper of wings as bats and owls fly by
mystical shapes appear from the mundane
I am transported and transfixed by it all
the crowning glory a stag backlit on the hill top
ah night you do enchant my very being
I love to roam or ride your shadowy countryside
to see the world in your stunning luminous light
the shades of which change by the hour
night I honour you and your mystic way
here in your dwelling my head I lay
and watch in wonder the unicorns
as at play they stray my dreams
written 01/12/2014 by Shadow Hamilton
title: Into Night's Dwelling
contest: Into Night's Dwelling
Place Beyond The Horizon, Dwelling In Sunset's Red
Place beyond the horizon, dwelling in sunset's red
all is right - no compromising, silk sheets on every bed
Cool streams lead to good, world exists with no stains
love wins just as it should, nights hold no dark pains
Beyond the horizon, hell's great fury can never invade
new morn's sweet rising, bright life hope has made
Days spent in wonder, dancing to promises of more
ships sailing seas of splendor, from shore to shore
Paradise in the seeing, Nature's well hidden palace
glory in the being, free of man's hatred and malice
Earth's greatest pleasure, love-filled beyond measure
time spent in leisure, where true love is the treasure
Beyond red skyline's glow, loom castles of eternity
wrapped in sincere love's, great hope and serenity
R.J. Lindley
July 9th, 1971
Note- Written long ago-centuries it now seems..
Just found out - This is my one thousandth poem posted here.
My how time flies and blessings come with friends found here ,
this site and its many very talented poets..
into the night's dwelling
things are they way they used to be
only more perfect,
and even if I lean into the dark hall
there are stars in my eyes, that keep alive the myth
and we are all there in black and white
tho' my mother's lips are glossy red,
her hair is beautifully coifed, just hours from the beauty shop
she is smiling, wearing an apron, cooking something grand
the table is set with flowers, a tidy house, sofa pillows neatly in their proper place
my daddy sits on the floor with me, playing Chinese checkers, letting me win
and my brother is throwing a ball in the front yard with his friends
things are more perfect
than how they used to be
as the wind drones an old Cole Porter song
into the night's dwelling
where I keep the dream
from dying
_______________________________
1/7/14
Inspired by Nette Onclaud's Contest:" Into Night's Dwelling"