Best Enervating Poems
Vanity
A poem about vanity in life inspired by Ancient Greek Wisdom
As I wake up abruptly every single dawn
With my body still asleep on futility’s lawn
My spirit needs a fiery, enervating quick jolt
To nail down my awareness with God’s divine bolt
And as the day’s continuity progresses slowly
My frail mind transforms my soul silently
To seek our Father’s love and compassion
And His heavenly treasure and full passion
Oh! supreme vanity, goddess of futility
You mark our short life most eloquently
As you guide us with your values and premises
To consider all matters without the goal of destiny
For without God’s divine purpose and infinity
All life ends up in the turbulent waterways of vanity
Waiting, with no end, for the pleasure of happiness
Disregarding all elements of ethics and human wellness
Oh! Greatest vanity of glorious vanities
How weak you make the old and the wise
How you bond us all well with divine fate
How silly you make men who think they are great
Dearest God, bless us to be, in our life, mighty
So that we express our goodness to all needy
For without Your words we are all bereft totally
Waiting our final turn in the valley of dire mortality
Taking into deep consideration the following ancient Greek sayings:
1. By Aristotle: ‘Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility but through greatness of mind’.
2. By Plato: ‘Eternal time is the only truth while what happens in our world are icons of vanity of our emotions’.
3. By Empedocles: ‘You must plunge beneath your crowded thoughts and calmly contemplate the higher realities with pure, focused attention. If you do this, a state of inspired serenity will remain with you throughout your life, shaping your character and benefiting you in so many ways. But if you direct your attention instead to the trivial things most people obsess about, the silly nonsense that dulls their minds, you’ll just acquire more objects which you’ll only lose anyway’.
Samskara, jailer of my heart’s deepest passions
Enervating me and drowning my soul’s rapture
Karma’s imprint become love’s stealthy assassin
Lurking fiend of black depths evading capture
From my abyssal plain, a seismic accident
Atlantis resurfaces in nightmarish form
Decayed temple’s coral seaweed entanglement
Wretched thing’s agonized tentacles writhe and squirm
Fetid beast melts under gold sun’s dazzling rays
No longer, my heart ruled by this foul parasite
Spirit’s exultant victory over decay
Opened heart bounding, radiant love glowing bright
Seascape reborn, emerald flora unwinding
Into a bright mandala, my soul unbinding
6/6/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
12 syllables/line, Shakespearean Rhyme
Alternate first quatrain:
Samskara, heart fabric’s twisted bedevilment
Karmic burden, this partial soul paralysis
Kismet’s onerous imprint, my dark resident
Lurking fiend of black depths evades analysis
If you’ve a mind, let me know which you like better!
I can see the,might of forest ablaze
I can see the,Pride of mighty king on blade
I can see the,Eternal youth to be enslaved
I can see the,crown of a king on pyre
I can see the,thick canopy on fire
A day was there,When no one dares
Even the mighty light,Was not having an insight
The thick canopy,is finally enervating
the same bright light,is now shimmering
The ages have its toil,On the strength
The forest cannot,Withstand the wrath
The trunk of the trees,Have totally withered
Whether its pine or oak,Everyone has submitted
The hegemony of the eternal youth
has ceased to exists
No one is safe,Everybody is leaving
The dearest one,Who were cared the most
Are the ones Who are,in hurry to leave the host first
even the eternal love,has its own limits
no one can save forest,the way it is as it is
as if it is thous words,one has to face the fate
what he deserves
So lets all should agree,
Let the forest burn to ashes
But is it really,
The forest that is burning
Or it is my personification
That is churning
I can see the,Luscious desires of man ablaze
I can see the,Ego of man on the blade
I can see the,Pride on youth getting enslaved
I can see the,Greeds of man on pyre
I can see the,Crown of desires on fire
I can see the,Vengeful heart on fire
Still the question is to be answered
Is it really the forest on fire
Enduring in crowd, living alone.
Pretense, engaged. Conspicuous stone.
Solace amid the silencing sound.
Social setting. Trapped and bound.
Paralyzed movement. Strangled tone.
Enduring in crowd, living alone.
Vexing stage, communal minefield.
Required presence, reluctantly yield.
Commons cheer congress repletion.
Fear seared soul. Nerves depletion.
Enduring in crowd, living alone.
Network demise. Allies not sown.
Quiet corner roost. Enervating mind.
Exiles migration, quest of my kind.
Refuge found. Fulfilled, intone.
Enduring in crowd, living alone.
-Angel Fatale-
I WISH I WEREN’T A CENTIPEDE
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I wish I weren’t a centipede, a lowly arthropod
I need a transformation into something much more mod
To obtain status, with a much higher species standing
Not be straddled with an enervating task so demanding
I get no praise for my control nor multiple coordination
None can match my velocity nor perfect synchronization
Hard work, sweat and practice, I never need to hedge
Only I can manage and direct hundred pairs of legs
There are numerous phoney imposters of me
The most common, of course, the millipede
We both scurry about after the sun goes down
I’m known as a deadly killer, he’s just a clown
And when he is frightened, curls up and plays dead
Me, when confronted, a venom I’ll promptly embed
He subsists eating dead leaves and rotting flesh
Me, I go hunting I like to devour my protein fresh
I’m really scary, so I stay hidden during the day
But at night is when I’m active searching out for prey
I’ve got a couple of pincers, positioned near my head
I reach out to find you, once located, you are dead
That’s my routine, residing in wet n gloomy sites
Venturing out at dusk to procure a couple of bites
I’m not a gourmet almost anything fits my diet
A mouse, a rat, an ant. If its warm I’ll surely try it
Each day mimics itself, an unremarkable occurrence
Repeating the same sequence doesn’t really make much sense
After due deliberation, I have decided to fill my day
With thoughts of being a condor and just aviate away
I will soar over the Andes riding endless thermal drafts
View the Nazca Plains, take in the mysterious graphs
Alas, it’s a pipe dream, that each night I’ll need to cede
I’ll scurry out, repeat the hunt, cause I’m just a centipede
Mantle--a fluid shelf that cradles all existence;
Soil--a table that nurtures all subsistence
Flora--a cultivated canvas that neutralizes resistance;
Fauna--a habituated benefactor of indulgence.
Wind--a mysterious force of ambivalence,
Dispersing seed and spore with diligence.
Fondling cloak that cools with benevolence;
Powerful menace that uproots with violence.
Fire, generative force imbuing hearth with resilience;
A temporal light that provides luminescence.
Warming incubator, glowing candescence,
Brooding killer scorching with indifference.
Water--a random discharge of providence.
A vast reservoir of expedience.
An enervating stream that fuels with prescience;
An extractor that disperses with each recurrence.
Immutable elements with primordial affluence;
Material objects manipulated for human ascendence.
enervating stream
colorful salmon spew roe
brown bears cast their nets
The wooden floor creaked as I lay on it.
My eyes narrowed, slowly, into slits
As I stared at the half-drawn blinds,
As my limbs, lazily
Throbbed with dull persistency
After the long,
Enervating bus journey.
Not much had changed over the years.
The same wooden houses and paddy fields;
Farmers toiling, indefatigably.
Children playing with perpetual felicity.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.
The sweet smell of the incense sticks
From the tiny shrine
In the damp alcove
Filled my little room .
Mingled ,gently with the wooden floor.
Not much had changed over the years.
The same wooden houses and paddy fields;
Farmers toiling, indefatigably.
Children playing with perpetual felicity.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.
Like every night, the flautist did come.
Beside the same gnarled tree, he seated himself.
Under the lunar spotlight, he rose
Far beyond the temporal world.
The ineffable melody and its ungodly pulchritude
In esoteric harmony with the quietude
Accompanied the miners
In their lonesome journey
Back home.
Not much had changed over the years.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.
- Amy Angom (16)
Waiting for petrichor to rise lost in all hackneyed phrasing please use forbearance for words do hide some are evanescent in an archaic phasing some fraught with aesthetics lie now in the ground not to be enervating but some have already died and time is ephemeral so let them abound so to be intrepid and brazen canny not to deride to foster jubilation in exemplary camaraderie for the love of the vocable for they are florid and opulent they can be anachronistic but also Incendiary so withal I will leave with a Breeze so succulent I think poets are not prosaic but the last to capitulate
Fallowed mind on barren ground toils
Winter's cold streams radiant beams foil
No incubating current cuts through the dense soil
Muses' bright glint the dark, thick clouds roil
Blipping sparks can't light my sensory console
A dormant seed sprouts on a rocky knoll
Promising strands on frozen surface stroll
Chilling winds over shallow-rooted thoughts troll
Vapid ideas from stagnant un-imaginative threads loll
Without depth, the promising figments spoil
In due course, Spring's thawing tides do roll
On horizon's mount, azure panels scroll
The brighter patches degenerated conduits parole
Fecund spores with soaring visions cajole
Wispy tufts of dander blow into cranial hole
Into thawing seams, germinating inspiration bowls
Enervating muse, implanted seeds into interstices dole
Granules of wisdom brim from gilded boll
Leaving pod, enthralling, pearly grains silt the soul
The congealed fabric spins around each, sensory pole
Ginned fibers into imagination's colorful tapestry burrow
That car swishes
along the forest road.
Who cares
about a poor bird in the age of lynching?
Its beak with berries in it
freezes.
Its mate hears
wing-beats that never near.
A bird lover’s thoughts grow
from the carcass.
He climbs up
the tree trunk
and drops
figs
through the slit in the sealed nest.
Beaks rise
from the enervating hunger.
The world needs
his deed.
Drooped wings
are countless.
First published in Pif Magazine, US.
*A mother hornbill never comes out of the sealed nest until its egg hatches.
Nope!, this aint a
(non) commercial
Christmas plug for ye,
nonetheless, a greeting
of joie de
vivre buttressed with
(wreath) in this ole
foreign nicked saint wannabe
awash with spiritual
awakening unexpectedly
alighting boosting, and catapulting,
the mood of this
dog gone intro
spective atheistic he
then for merely "actively listening,"
sans texting to me,
(thine youngest daughter) hook
confided a circumstance,
that found her teary
eyed, whereat papa (meself)
galvanizing enervating,
and bold facing
(italicized optional),
a decades long glee
(son) doting dada, (me)
hood did earlier today
underwent spiritual reawakening
experience, where poignant see
movie ling ushered
emotional concessions prithee
lee transcending, and super see
ding ordinary ho-hum
(oh so yesterday...)
psychologically (or psychically)
escalating euphoria juiced being
a humble papa
yes sir re:
vicariously afflicted when,
Shana Aubrey (said
nineteen year old pro genie),
(who lives under
auspices of mine
kid sister in
Bend, Oregon – Voluntarily)
painfully shared her recent
(first) beaming, blooming,
and budding romance
rendered null and void
primarily duet who wah
bajillion geographical miles
from Colchester, Great
Britain, where she
(mine offspring) under
parental care of thee
guardian (angels) Shari Todd,
and George Andrew Dunning
supreme qual lit tee
aunt and uncle respective lee)
spent propitious year,
whence har mo' knee
me lass struck up,
and young lad o' a louver she
discovered without visa vis,
where, the young chap (Zak)
broke off (figuratively smote) long
distance elle la gee.
Gnome hatter at my helpless state
hive hilt that being privy at any rate
which parental aye deed eek quate
with darling daughter as a mature primate.
Anticlimactic mood after February 18th, 2021 snow storm subsided
I hate spoiler alert
regarding weather forecasters prediction,
especially when meteorologist
wannabe spouse doth blurt
out impending blizzard
which never materializes.
Yours truly humbled and enamored
when Mother Nature
singly and/or nsync with old man winter
looses propensity to wreak havoc
and/or blankets landscape
I fondly think back
remembering '96 storm of the century.
At that time January 1996
me and the missus timesharing
Shawnee on the Delaware
ardently striving, yet
unsuccessful conceiving Blizzard Baby.
Now far beyond procreative age,
(though I wistfully envisage
begetting another progeny -
simultaneously stretching credulity
to breaking point)
all things considered
exhaustion would peter out
after capitulation of divining rod
necessitating lifetime to recoup energy.
Bound within figurative four walls
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania domicile
courtesy appreciable snowfall,
I direct energy crafting poem.
Yours truly will actually
refrain comestibles despite feeling hungry -
lest metabolism to digest food
decreases potential alertness,
and full belly finds me
ready able and willing
to doze immediately into deep slumber.
Hungry stomach in tandem
with eventful weather
sends surge of giddiness
coursing thru body electric
crackling, popping, and snapping
(while O Captain My Captain)
came to witty man (me) suddenly
enervating with poignant pregnant expectancy
papa pondering his empty nest syndrome
analogously attempting to offset void
coaxing poem into existence
unsure how literary endeavor
(mine) will thrive
amidst well suited
panoply of prolific writers,
whose unseen fingers
hop lightly and gracefully
across qwerty computer keyboard
akin to heavy armed soldiers
with fearlessness and deliberation
heading off to war to acquire poetic license.
Meanwhile chafed knuckles
of one garden variety primate
previously scraping along tundra
(methinks I espy frozen Mastodon)
(before twenty first century caveman
learned to stand erect)
endeavors to strike letter combinations
eliciting, facilitating, and generating
enticing curb appeal.
The spring anthem doth now sound
Helpless eggs lie all around
Encased larva still tightly bound
Brooding mothers redound
Ingenious caretakers cover nest and mound
Ravenous predators scour tree and ground
Doting Queens have nests tightly wound
Succoring honey begins to compound
Aging pupa entombed all around
Nubile creatures more nutrition impound
Docile minions escape their waxy mound
Tracking nectar wherever flowers abound
Hovering matrons incubate above ground
Enervating heat the eggs must surround
Brimming yoke with new features expound
Emerging embryo can now be found
Emboldened chick with beak doth pound
Suddenly from cracked shell does new life resound.
to the pain gods
Pain, go away
Pain, pain go away
Come again some other day
Quite haunting my every moment
Quit bothering me every single day
Pain, Pain, God of Pain,
What did I do to deserve such?
Devilish pain?
What did I do to you?
Oh God of Pain
Why are you punishing me?
Every single God damn day
Pain God Go away
I will not believe in you
If you do not believe in me
Do we have a deal?
God of Pain?
Or will you continue to afflict me
Every moment for the rest of life
With this enervating pain
Pain, pain go away
Don’t come another day
I wish I might
I wish I could
Send you away
Forever and ever
Banish you to hell and beyond
Pain, pain go away
I will not believe in you any more
Please stop the torture
I know that Zappa
Says the torture
Will never stop
But I know the truth
The truth may set us free
But nothing will drive this pain away
Pain go away
Leave me be
I don’t deserve this,
I did not ask for it
Simply go to hell
My pain God
Pain, go away
Pain, pain go away
Come again some other day
Quite haunting my every moment
Quit bothering me every single day
Pain, Pain, God of Pain,
What did I do to deserve such?
Devilish pain?
What did I do to you?
Oh God of Pain
Why are you punishing me?
Every single God damn day
Pain God Go away
I will not believe in you
If you do not believe in me
Do we have a deal?
God of Pain?
Or will you continue to afflict me
Every moment for the rest of life
With this enervating pain
Pain, pain go away
Don’t come another day
I wish I might
I wish I could
Send you away
Forever and ever
Banish you to hell and beyond
Pain, pain go away
I will not believe in you anymore
Please stop the torture
I know that Zappa
Says the torture
Will never stop
But I know the truth
The truth may set us free
But nothing will drive this pain away
Pain go away
Leave me be
I don’t deserve this,
I did not ask for it
Simply go to hell
My pain Gods