Best Enervated Poems


Elixir of Life

In the fragility of dreams
With my eyes wide open 
At the onset of daylight
Crawling tint of lilac hues
Sparkle dew drops on lilies
Engulf my soul in blues
To see the world alive
I find myself wondering 
Of the desires buried
Deep inside this fragile heart
The forgotten people,
The abandoned roads,
The lost moments,
The unhealed scars,
The yellowed pages,
All from my journey so far
Make me feeble all day long
With a darkness beneath daylight 

In the fragility of dreams
With my eyes half closed
At the onset of dusk
When lavender sky illuminates
Exhausted turquoise tides,
Sweat-soaked memories 
Comfort my enervated soul
Provide drowsy solace 
To my played out heart
In the weariness of windows
Too unyielding to be unfastened
Yet willing to let the light inside
The cocoon of my hopes
Breathes half-heartedly 
May be not to fly but to survive 
Wrapped in the panacea of twilight

In the fragility of dreams
With my eyes meant to be closed
I wake up on a glistening blue night
A nostalgic halo opens the windows
Clenched by my wavering anxieties
I find my wings and spread them wide
To fly afar through the elixir of night
It reminds me of everything 
That had once been mine
That could have been mine
And that still is and will always be mine
That all my life is but a circle
Meant to be found around
That nothing is ever lost
If in my heart it will be found
That my fragility heals my scars
Strengthens my spirit
Renews my pages
To explore my roads
Full of errors or glories
That the hope on which I never give up
And the love dripping over my soul
Is my eternal elixir of life
That when the day is over
Night will always revive 
My wearied heart and memories
Courage in my tenderness 
I find a waterfall of love and hope
When my eyes are meant to be closed
At night, in the fragility of dreams.


May 18, 2020
~Winner: 1st Place in STRAND NO 760,any form any theme Contest by Brian Strand

~Winner: 2nd Place in In the fragility of dreams Contest sponsored by Silent One

Sojourn

More than eleven thousand days have passed since I started this voyage. 
Laughters, anguish, challenges, setbacks, achievements;
These shaped me into who I am presently
Resilient. Strong. Persistent. Empowered.
Life's roller coaster made me realize a lot of things paradoxically
That people will only be there for you as long as you are beneficial to them
That everything changes, even the so-called eternity is merely superficial.
That trying to fit into somebody else's world is a big no-no
Because you yourself has an own world waiting to be built and to ameliorate
That being quixotic is not okay- foolishly impractical-
Especially in the pursuit of your own worth as a human being and the essence of your existence
That in life, you will be surrounded by lofty individuals- 
Insulting and questioning your own capabilities in haughty manners
That discouragement is an everyday thing if you will allow them to get in
I realized I should not be enervated
Overbearance, dominance, supremacy- ignore them all. 
Truth is, you are the anchor of your own ship
It's you who will decide whether to be miserable or to be cheerful
Life's a maze with detours and crossroads, sometimes you get lost
You'll come across paths with invisible tracks- completely oblivious
But do not ever despair- make or choose your own path
Even at times you have to decide whether to take the road to the left or to the right
Honestly, I took the road to the left only to find out there's nothing right
I ventured out to the right track only to find out there's nothing left for me
Nevertheless, I continued traversing the unfamiliar routes- come what may.
Rest if you're tired. Stand up if you fall down. Cry if you're sad. Scream if you want to. 
Listen to me, you have the sole power over your whole journey-make the most out of it.
Think about it. Do what makes you happy. Choose who makes you feel blissful. 
Because life is a sojourn- a temporary stay.

Premium Member The Way Things Really Were

O, the nights we couldn't stop sweating
  the porch no cooler than our rooms
Enervated, we drove down to the lake
  where 'shore patrol' lowered the boom

All those appliances that too often failed
  jalopies that wouldn't start in the cold
Lights flickering with each drop of rain
  all those folks who at 50 were old

Yet this is not what we choose to remember
  'coz memory, thank God, is selective
If not, who would ever reminisce
  over things as they were ~ so defective


Premium Member Flirt with my Demons

This house has been set ablaze; ashes rain like snow,
covering what has become my deathbed.
A weighted blanket of ruins lies heavy upon my chest.
Laboured breaths and the taste of soot coat the back of my throat,
stifling oxygen from reaching the whites of enervated eyes.
Blue-tinted lips incoherently whisper, flirting with my demons,
living in purgatorial gloaming
whilst my spirit hovers between diminishing light and shadows.

Reality blurs, amalgamating with hallucinations
where demons dance in a macabre ballet,
reenacting repressed sorrows,
torturing an undead heart to the brink of insanity.
With each twirl, each act, tales of desperation are etched onto flesh.
Riverlets of blood stain the sheets bright red,
as tourniquets are nowhere to be found.
There is no way to halt the flow;
emotional instability will be my bloodletting.

Every second ticks by a little quicker
until each heartbeat grows fainter.
A clenched jaw relents,
eyes roll backwards,
and a damaged soul is severed from its mortal coil,
yet its fate is left undetermined,
flailing in the in-between forevermore.
© Sara Jama  Create an image from this poem.

Today S Woman

TODAY’S WOMAN

A column can scaffold a back that is enervated.
We as women will burden ourselves with hate.
That is we will take on another’s disintegration.
All in that business is a mess.
It becomes our plight to fix.
We sing our songs while we take on the world.
We continue to overwhelm ourselves.
When we know anything, we have achieved success.
This is a formidable woman’s road map.
The lines she follows gets her there.
Intense in thought and with mind involved she forms the stratagem.
Her purpose is to inform the world.
Her future is, therefore, passed on to next baby girl.
Imminence is still yet to come.

Unless the world is in a formation discovery, we are backward spiraling.
The diffident disguises our lack of unity.
How obtrusive we are.
A conspiracy is inferred.
Reticent is unreserved.
We are a political powerhouse that must be robust. 
We as women are the conditions of our home front.
We must disallow polluted waters from the wounds that bleed.
We must not be garrulous in our activism.	
Cagey old women we will become.
When there is a reason, we must step-to-the-cause,
Insofar as our souls and spirit are intertwined,
As we segment, we can inspire all women to intermingle for support of universal health where women help each other to move forward.
For those aforementioned, our draft has been self-possessed.
We are women of potential acclimatization to invigorate, innovate, and to inform.
We are tomorrow and the future forthcoming.
____________________________________________________________________|
Penned June 07, 2015!

Be Positive

Putrid pus proliferates/purposely preventing 
progression's passionate plea -
stifled cries...

Always ascending...and, assiduously avoiding 
any acrimonious amounts accrued along apathetic
apertures..."Still I Rise!"

Incessantly fighting the urge to just drop
out of this rancid Rat Race we call living

Still, to abandon sanguine thoughts totally topples the
tenacious toughness that took time to temper...never stop giving

Enervated entities economically embattled


Man, each day we face trouble/In every Third World A Struggle -
singed and burned I'm like stubble/but, like The Ashes Of The Phoenix 
to Resurrect from this rubble

Sometimes I shift towards arrogance; The Good Lord Keeps 
me humble

Lifting languid limbs loftily to overcome this present Flood

Be Positive is my motto, the flip side?
It's my Blood...

B+


Violated

HELP! HELP!
 She is sinking,
 Sinking into the abyss of despair.
 Her brain is striken And her mind is stifled.
 She has been enervated.
 Her integrity is being manipulated,
 Irrationality acts as spring board to moral decadence,
 Opacity then entangles her efficiency
 While her eminence sleeps.
 She became vulnerable.
 Poor thing, she is raped, maimed and looted.
 Has she not been violated?
 Does her plight warrants a revolution?
 However, she demonstrated.
 She shrilled,
"No!", "No!"
 She pleaded with her predators.
 All these were to no avail
 Her future seems gloomy
 As the predators succeeded in orchestrating yet another tragedy.
 Engulfed in this evident realm of adversity.
 She sits and ponders
 With tears flooding her miserable cheeks.
 She then cried,
 HELP! HELP!
 I am sinking,
 Sinking into the abyss of despair.
© Ivan Cole  Create an image from this poem.

Big Easy

Magnolia-honey air, heavy with heat
Kudzu vines twining, knitting the city
Spanish moss masks the old hoyden,
and she manage to think herself pretty

Shutters, and fans lazily turning
keep the suffocating heat of afternoon at bay
Lanais and balconies, sanctuary given
Folks resting until it is cool enough to play

Languid lazy persistence of mosquitoes
Hands too enervated to swat them away
Down Bourbon a honky tonk is whispering
Birds and butterflies hide from the heat of day

Bawdy houses and mansions - quaint 
Charm oozes from the Big Easy's pores
Secrets and antiquities languish behind
ancient shops with their secret doors

Now - a muddy ruin, wiped from the earth
No more Mardi Gras or ladies teas - or riots
Just a flow muddy rubble and water rising
Big Easy is dying as its chaos quiets

Can she rise again as the south did long ago?
Can she pick up her skirts refuse to fade?
A southern lady is a strong woman - defiant
Under her petticoats, Big Easy, quality-made!

Lisa

She did not ire against the fading light
The mystery of death did not perplex
But comforted her enervated soul
As she acquiesced to fate
Her last words extolled the joys of life
And love 
And the sunset

Separation

Enervated little child  
could not guess from her tender mind 
about where has she gone?
She wonders and looked around
later there was a continues cry 
looking at the dad.

Poor dad didn’t utter a word 
but pat tenderly on her back
How can he explain the real mystery?
Mum has depart from the little family having a divorce
Before that there was unaffordable patience 
Suspicions, quarrels, disagreements and arguments 

Can she realize the dissension between them?
Little one cried for want of mum
Dad exhausted, and put a glance at the couple of sun birds
making a melodious note 
Resting on a fully blossomed branch of hibiscus bush

He murmured affectingly to the baby 
in a perceptive manner
Look! Nice little birds… calling you,
Would you like to go their nest? 
It is beautiful, neat, and peaceful, 
Ostracized little girl 
did not realize what father says
And she cried and cried
Poor man looked at the cloudy sky
Where floating a lonely kite 

Jayaratne Weerakkody

Burnt Verse: a Sailor's Tale

“I fear these furtive brumous depths,” the aged sailor growled,
“‘Cause nestled ‘neath these noisome reefs creep creatures cursed and cowled.

They flounder thus and, seeped in brine, patrol the waxen sea,
And when it drains in years to come, will slue ‘cross land for me.”

My eyes fixed fast on this cowed man, an enervated soul,
And felt his dread leap to my chest as I commenced his role.

So tempest-filled my world became as hunters strode the sea,
Yet all my thoughts returned to shore, held by this phantom, he.

The poisoned tales he wove like waves, eructed into air,
Trailed terror down in floods of fright to moor me in its snare.

And so I left these merchant minds to profit from the deep,
And knowing that their die was cast, abandoned death for sleep.
© Dan Keir  Create an image from this poem.

Voice of My Heart

Voice of my Heart
I miss the sensation of your sweet breath against my face
the sound of your angelic voice that echo's without a trace
the tender touch of your hand
that my enervated heart can not with stand

A constant building up of care
that no longer I can bear
It's my love for you I need to share
so it's you my love, I seek out there

Mountains I will climb
impossible it might seem, but I care not a dime
oceans I will swim
even though my changes are slim
valleys I will go through
for what ever the obstacle my content is you

My love for thee is indescribable
for thy divines is indefinable

So speaketh the Voice of my Heart.

Terror of Blunder

Terror of Blunder

Deep inside the ocean’s heart
A man in black holding a bat
Brain ruled by resentment
Hypothalamus painted with black 

Trepidation took over my body
As he moves towards me slowly
Evil sneer I can still see clearly
Despite his Prada’s large hoody 

Palpebral met bulbar rapidly
Then tears sprints continually
My voice box abandoned me 
My bones enervated suddenly

I hear no footstep or any noise
The place is hushed and so I peeked 
Nightmare met me, he is too near 
He raised the bat then jeered

Meters to inch within a second
From my frontal, blood drifted
I feel the pain; ‘think it is my end
I waited but why can’t I be dead

The bat fiercely moves up and down  
Repeatedly reached my skin and bones
I felt indignant I do not deserve one
I just finished the job started by some

I am terrified and so I hastily awoke
I wobbled, I cried; I am terribly stuck
Euthanasia, I should not have done it 
Every minute you’re piercing my heart
© Yzzy Leign  Create an image from this poem.

Tired

I’m a man whose tired and worn
Empty and dead on my feet,
Petered out, played out, pooped and torn
Burn out, broke down and beat.
Drowsy, droopy, drooping drained
Dog tired, done in, done for,
Exasperated, enervated empty faint
Overtaxed, overworked and bored

Sick of, sleepy, spent and stale
Haggard, run down, all in
Consumed, collapsing, asleep, annoyed
Exhausted, bygone and barren
Ramshackle, rickety, run-down and frail
Bedraggled, broken-down and creaky
Threadbare, tottering, tired and used
Feeble, fragile and flimsy

Out of shape, out of gas,  done in and feeble
Gone to seed, soft,  incapacitated
Listless, washed out, weakened, on the ropes
Undermined, fatigued, prostrated.
Discontented, dissatisfied, tacky and dull
Jaded, glum and gloomy
Sick and tired, up to here, driveling, drab
Sated, down and weary
Befuddled, unsteady, wobbly and faint
Pallid, pale and lean
Stupefied, staggering, slaphappy, subdued
Oh damn I got to go pee.

Cowl Lix Aged Language Lover

please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
   especially, encountering 
   the following conglomeration
   in matthew scott harris patois).

He readily admits writing inventive
   attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
   Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
   courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
   gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
   and certainly less
to impress.

Gnome hatter intent toward 
   cogency, fancy ingenuity,
   levity, the inevitable 
   resultant wrought gobbledygook
   fascination for Lingua Franca
   feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
   and splatters Asia Yukon guess.

Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
   sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
   finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
   swimmingly enervated 
   via erotic laced sentiments
   perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
   hollering, gesticulating floundering,
   (in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
   to avoid drowning at sea
   perchance comprehending passionate influence.

   Upon espying a signature poem of mine
   forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
   tib hush anonymous re:
   dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
   taking him/her to the brainy 
   (briny) deep brink
   Icon fess

this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
   aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
   alphabetic wanton soup,
   or figurative egg drop bub
   bling broth (el) doth brew)

   pronouns Sibyl affectation 
   affliction sans plethora,
   where each ladle full adrip with
   richly flavor Verdana Font lee
   and sincerely textured vocabulary.

   Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
   (blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
   suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
   particularly expectorating flashy 

   hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
   hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
   might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
   vis a vis plagiarize plethora 
  amidst storied plentiful English droppings.

Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
   temptation to bask exultantly,
   professed glorious unrequited love
   announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.

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