Best Forlornly Poems
The raptor and the peacock hence,
Sit pensive on a rambling fence.
The first, inclined to be the host,
Jumped down to claim the nearest post.
The pea averse to snubs or quailing
Moves closer on the weathered railing.
Both immersed in trailing thoughts
Mused on nigh, and what was naught.
The Pea fans its tail in public splendor
Cramped raptor prefers an opposing gender.
He clasps a plume of gleaming thread
To implant it on his own stark head.
On and on, a grueling day
Feathers plucked; cold work at play.
Peafowl’s once featured feathered shafts
Now forlornly bare and subject to draft.
The predacious bird, a cocky thief
Snidely at par, to a native chief.
Clips of sun reveal a shadowy bane
The unlikely pair cast as one and the same
One brilliant tranquil day, around a turquoise lake,
Autumn had come in and brightly painted
so prettily the branches of the trees.
Overhead the gulls serenely soared.
Below them, water shimmered -softly rippled. . .
I thought how this was how the world should ever be -
beautiful and radiant, sorrow-free.
All of a sudden came a shift.
A strong wind swept the scene; all was transformed.
Fall’s vibrant colors shimmied,
till released, they spread asunder.
Small ripples changed to waves,
which angrily were lashing at the shore.
The seagull’s laughing cries had disappeared.
And streaming rays of sunlight had
become absorbed by darkness . . .
a dreariness and dreadfulness and cold.
In the reflection of the shadows,
I found my flimsy jacket, flung it on,
and clasped it close to me - then even closer.
Wishing that all mankind could find illumination,
I forlornly contemplated that this
was how the whole world would come to be,
and sooner than we know. . .would so remain.
wind mutters softly
last leaf forlornly flutters. . . .
my lawn waits frozen
Rain ©
I walk on slick shine streets
in the night with my lover.
Freshly out of bed and ravenous
for other food, he pauses and
licks the tears and rain drops
from my face.
Rain in its many moods
quickens to sweep the earth and
skies clean.
Settles on the skin like a damp
kiss. Cold, warm, sweet, clean,
sharp, rain.
Is designer bottled water
merely rain drops from afar?
The dog romps through the rain,
in his perfect raincoat, oblivious
to the wet.
Blinking owlishly when a drop
should fall into his eye.
Mysterious primates of the forest
sit forlornly, beneath the
umbrella leaf.
Forever patient as the skies
rupture with a torrential deluge.
Human-tender eyes reflect their
disgust and sadness at the wet,
messy coats they must wear.
The equine turn their haunches
to the storm to show their scorn
for nature’s tantrum.
Cats run for cover, sit
majestically removing the
wet rain from their person with a
wet tongue.
Wild fowl dance across the circle
patterns of the pond’s face,
beating their wings and singing.
They frolic and dive celebrating
the sublime circumstance of
being wet.
Man spends energy and money
to keep himself dry and safe
from the rain, darting from
doorway to doorway.
What does he fear? He won’t
melt if he gets soaked, he won’t
become ill or grow fins, and he
just might get clean.
Snow is rain in its wedding attire;
no two brides alike.
The rain drop falls into a rivulet
of other rain drops atop the
mountain.
The rivulet runs into the creek,
the creek into a stream.
The stream rushes to the river
and the river falls into the sea.
The rain drops turn to salty tears
as the journey ends.
It is said that chickens, if left out
in the rain, will lift their heads up
to the sky and watch the rain
until they drown.
Trisha Sugarek
Butterflies and Bullets
In a store that sells antiques,
The past is much alive,
Including parts that we’d prefer
Did somehow not survive.
Some creepy dolls and ugly clothes
And jewelry I’d not wear
Forlornly grace the shelves without
Their one-time savoir faire.
But other items bring a smile
Or memory to bear –
A Popeye pin, some Beatles cards
And much Fiestaware.
Three typewriters with all their keys
Sit Royally encased
And lots of kitchen tools I wish
I never had replaced.
I troll the aisles quite aimlessly
For if you want the truth,
The only things I hope to find
Are traces of my youth.
He walked into my office, business in hand,
In denim baggy overalls, a plaid shirt, white painters cap,
and grandpa's old white leather orthopedic shoes.
If I ever get to the ripe old age of 88,
I want to be this lone wolf silhouette of a man.
A slow gait with frailty of movement.
Each step carefully orchestrated and contemplated.
Making one worry the next may become a fall.
But he moves on without even a stumble.
Steadfast stature and posture braced on any lowly perch.
Outer coat showing gaps of missing muscle and mass.
Paws and face forlornly exposed with past battles scorned.
All affairs in perfect order, the next move oft anticipated.
Irises glossy white shadowed with blue wisdom and mystery.
Draped with curtains and folds boldly saying "I am."
Negotiations begin with silence in wait of movement.
Tail wagging intently, teeth exposed only when he smiles.
No bite to his bark, he needn't growl nor gnarl.
Few words, saying only what needs to be heard.
Walking away after a handshake, flash of teeth, and a wink.
09/12/17
She felt the pain and loss of the gain of a midnight true love’s dream.
No one to blame she left and came and I asked her, “how did it seem?”
“Oh heaven, you mean? It’s beautiful and serene like I thought it would be.
I saw your tears when you said goodbye, and thank you for setting me free.”
I sat in fear, so unclear, she's really here! “Why did you choose to visit me?”
She said softly, “honey, I’m so sorry...I can’t forget the look in your eyes,”
Down on one knee, I beg and plead, “do you regret what you took to my cries?”
She sat and pondered and I sat and wondered, “how could she want to die?”
I stood and wandered, for I was younger but I still needed a reason why.
“I hid right under the bridge from the thunder, no more seasons to try."
I needed assurance, “dear sister, do you ever wish you could take it back?”
She pleaded in endurance, “dear sister, forever it’s been self-love that I lacked.”
I believed her story, she now lives in glory, but to her I must always remind,
“your life was stormy and lived too shortly, don’t forget I always strived to find
a way to rid a soul forlornly, left so sorely, you’ll always be on my mind.”
*True story based on a dream I had
last year of my sister who took her own life*
Internal Rhyme Used
Conversation Contest
Sponsor: Frank Hererra
Date Written: September 4, 2016
From heaven above, white powder falls
as trembling in the icy breeze
shadows loom on my garden walls.
They tremble along with the limbs of trees
quaking naked in winter’s freeze.
I watch those shadows on display
and shiver too – down to my bone
as limbs forlornly in my garden sway
to the sound of wind, a fearful moan.
Wind stops! The frail limbs have thicker grown!
Those shadows once had been so frail
before the wind ceased to blow.
Now they tell a different tale.
for mimicking the trees, they show
that the branches now wear coats of snow!
Feb. 10, 2022 for Emile Pinet's Quintain (English) Poetry Contest
Come hither youth and heed the words I say,
My heart does yearn as I now reminisce,
If not for you where would I be today?
As I sit forlornly avoid from bliss.
Let me ask you was it all worth your while?
Did you live proudly with love in the end?
Or would you exchange it all for a smile?
Tell me youth did you at least make a friend?
Now as the years went by do I seem old?
My youth please know in the mirror I see,
You standing there with reflection so cold,
Your eyes no wiser than they used to be.
All your dreams have died and hang in the sky,
Leaving me alone to wither and die.
Gone, and gone with love!
Up forlornly went my breath
Down my body sank, of death
I but recall, in love with you intensely how I fell
And evermore was I there while you were unwell
I broke jokes to you to keep you calm
And I took care of you when you broke your arm
I waited for you to admit that you love me
And to assure me that we would soon together be
I waited for you to discard your pride and take part
But I doubted that your love resided in a confused heart
And so long I cared for you till my love did decay
As I loved you in vain till the sun came and took me away!
Pity when I was gone I learnt that you loved me too
And that it was belated of time that I then be with you
Because now I’m gone, and with true love I’m gone!
Inspired by Iron Maiden’s “The Final Frontier:
#18 on Best New Poems List , May 16, 2025
I am but one person
on a mission that went wrong -
locked out of the safety
of the spaceship I was on.
Black ink is spilled around me,
vast and never-ending
as into nothingness
I find my body wending.
The oxygen inside my tank
will last perhaps six hours.
I can see stars - stabs of light
that twinkle not – cosmic flowers!
Forlornness embraces me -
a suffocating feeling
so unlike my loved ones’ hugs.
With gloom my brain is reeling.
I travel in my mind
to things I cherish most -
my family and friends.
To them I’ll be a ghost.
A ghost forever floating
in this upside-down endless sea
which will be a graveyard
of black surrounding me.
God, I am imploring you
as I drift and drift and drift,
may I soon be in your light -
my death both peaceful and swift.
Amazingly, Alice assaulted an antelope
Because Bobby’s beavers became bold,
Considering cantilevered canines
Deliberately devastating donor’s doled.
Evelyn entirely excited electric eels
Failing forlornly from forward fencing,
Gaining ground gathering genuine gold
Her happiness heralded high financing.
I indicated initially incapable innocents
Justifying joyous juxtaposition jousting
Keeping kind Kenneth’s kindreds knit
Losing language like legally lost lusting.
Maybe minding manners means more
Neither newness nor novel necessary,
Occasionally opening old occlusions
Promises perfectly positioned pituitary.
Quite questionable quicky quirks
Rage rampantly removing regulations,
Summarily startling some supervisors
Touching their tempermental trepidations.
Until unusual undertakings understood
Veritable vigilantes visited volunteers,
Wildly waiting where we wandered
X-citedly X-iting X-istential X-ospheres
Yonder youthful yaks yielded...yikes!
Zebras zigzagged zestfully ziggurat-likes.
When the opaque nights were starless,
and the depressing days desolately cloudy,
the journey through the tortuous valley of life
wasn’t easy as it was meant to be.
When the wilted flowers turned pallid,
and the defoliated trees tarnished tawny,
I lost the tantalizing trail of the garden path,
as in the unshed tears of toil hapless hopes sank.
The jagged pathway of listless life I traveled,
was sorely winding and the time finite.
At the end of the tormenting tunnel
I didn’t see the glitter of the guiding light.
When in stormy nights I was in the wasteland wilderness,
the surreptitious destiny designed for me,
the shards of my splintered sky fell asunder,
I forlornly envisaged strewn all around me.
I didn’t question the supreme designer’s motive,
and His ways of mundane manifestation,
but prayed for the sparkle of the sapphire nights,
and for the shower of the sunny days’ shine.
Without complaint I endured complacently
the transient time’s turbulence as His gracious gift,
waited for the spring to bloom the divine flowers,
and grow the emerald trees to enliven the blessed me.
When under the ruins of the fallen sky
my broken dreams were in the debris of despair,
I traveled within crossing the dark corridor,
and in the soul’s precinct I discovered the heavenly light.
In those precious moments I totally surrendered,
and remained subservient to His omnipresence.
I got the inner strength to hold up the falling sky,
and those enlightened instants kept me going.
I pictured her up there on the Moon
Sitting forlornly in my lonely lagoon
She was draped in a cloak of alabaster
Glistening in starlight ne'er to outlast her
Dancing midst an asteroid shower
Her silhouette did sparkle and tower
High above me in my loveless bower
Drowning in daiquiries reflections dour
So far off, she -- dared I give up hope ...
Yet nearby, my imagination of rope
Whereby I reeled her in from her escape to the Moon
~ To kiss her madly, lips wild from absence hewn
Impaled
On your barbed tongue
Insults glistening with spite
Against your heart of thorns, bleeding
Mine crying impaled tears
A nail through our love
Impaled forlornly with cupids’ arrow
Poisoned by cruel words
A dream promised impaled by abuse
Written: 7-28-2019
Anthony Slausin Impaled Poetry Contest n/a
Entered into John Hamilton n/a contest 8-9-19 3rd place