Best Glumly Poems
AN AURORA ALOUETTE - RAIN DOGS
the morning dewdrops
the sap on the trees
the wind blowing pleasingly
a stroll I will take
a joyous promenade
with my umbrella and cane.
rain oh rain will show
dawn is to enjoy.
gloomy not, away I go
pouring cats and dogs.
glumly aurora
dulcetly I sing “Rain Dogs.”
______________________|
Penned on August 31, 2014!
Categories:
glumly, cat, day, dog, rain,
Form:
Verse
MY CRAZY CREATURES
This rhyme's about creatures of various sorts.
Creatures with fangs, hairy bellies and warts.
They cause lots of mischief all day long.
Mum always blames me but I’ve done nothing wrong.
These creatures are crazy. They’re not what you'd think.
Turn over the page. Find out more in a blink...
The first is Belcher. He really does stink.
He lives in the toilet and plays in the sink.
He likes to be naughty when nobody's in.
He cannot be found when you're searching for him.
Dad always moans when he sees all the stains.
I tell him it’s Belcher, “He’s done it again!”
Two thinks that she’s pretty, but really she’s not.
She has warts on her face and is covered in spots.
She has a big bottom and six hairy feet.
Her name is Ghastly. She’s really not sweet.
She steals mum’s lipstick and paints her mouth red.
She tries on her dresses, throwing clothes on the bed.
As soon as mum enters she’s so quick to flee.
I guess that’s why my mum always blames me.
Number three is so quiet but I know that he’s there.
He smudges my face and puts glue in my hair.
I call him Hush Monster as he follows me round,
Putting mud on my clothes without making a sound.
I aim for the paper but the pen marks my face.
Mum looks at me glumly, "You're such a disgrace."
I try to tell her that it just wasn't me.
"It was Hush monster, Mummy. Why can't you see?"
The worst of them all is a creature called Doom.
I'm always in trouble when he's in the room.
He often burps loudly when we're eating our food.
Mum frowns with disgust. "Now, don't be so rude!"
He cackles with laughter whilst spilling my drink.
"Be careful," shouts dad. "Don't you ever think?"
You may well wonder why he's never been caught.
Well…he's the size of a pea and he’s very well taught.
He rolls under the sofa after doing things bad,
And I look to my parents who seem really mad.
These crazy creatures I like the best.
I’m glad I could share them with you and the rest.
Belcher, Ghastly and a monster called Hush,
Then don't forget Doom. They all make me blush.
They live in my house and like to cause bother,
Driving everyone mad, especially my mother.
They’re experts in mischief. They get me in trouble.
Now I’ll tell you a secret that may burst your bubble.
Whilst these creatures are crazy it has to be said,
They don’t really exist, “They’re all in my head!”
Categories:
glumly, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Someone's at my kitchen door
I hear them gently knock
But it really is quite early
I look glumly at the clock
Who could be there waiting
Who would be about
I haven't had my coffee yet
It makes me want to shout
They must still be standing there
Again I hear them knock
I can't open the door like this
It would give them quite a shock
I haven't had my shower yet
And my hair is everywhere
I've just hurried out of bed
I'm looking kind of bare
I wish that they'd be gone from here
Once more I hear a knock
Why can't they just walk away
Or drive around the block
Oh, but now I'm wide awake
And it's clear they're here to stay
So I guess I'll quickly dress myself
...Welcome to my day
Categories:
glumly, funny
Form:
Rhyme
I was a Moon in a dark abyss
Wandering alone in tormented solace
As aimlessly as a fish in a bowl
Glumly glad within my alien abode
In a spur ___ you appeared from Nowhere
A Blackhole pulling me towards its angelic snare
Rearranging the space time fabric ___
To a whole new realm ___ mystifying yet aesthetic
And I couldn't resist, for that Benignity
set my heart ablaze___ filled its Valence shell
Entwined with you I will step in eternity soon
Hoping, your floral rugs bear stars and moons..!!
Categories:
glumly, hope, imagery, imagination, love,
Form:
Rhyme
The Other Side of the Tracks
By Elton Camp
The poor you always have with you”
These words of Jesus are still too true
The folks who read this haven’t known
The cruel nature of poverty of one’s own
That is equally true in my case as well
Just the same, their story I’ll try to tell
For I have seen poverty not so far away
And have heard the things they must say
It’s in a middle-class town where I reside
But penury exists, just not side-by-side
Quite near, just across the railroad track
Live the poor, some white and some black
They remained almost invisible to me
Until I worked census and then got to see
Rooms in a shack sealed with cardboard
As that was the best they could afford
How many baths have you, but never mind
I already saw the crude outhouse just behind
Plank floors, protruding springs in chairs
I’d hate to experience the life that’s theirs
Food stamps and other types of handout
Are the things their life is mostly about
Lacking even a minimum high school degree
Better circumstances they aren’t likely to see
Their children suffer perhaps with silent rage
Drop out of school when they come of age
From this, what could finally come to be
Is it class warfare that we will come to see?
Some few the cycle of poverty will break
But most a success in life will never make
A sad, young girl sits and glumly stares
And wonders if anybody, about her cares
I can only describe what I know to be so
But a practical solution I just don’t know
Categories:
glumly, angst, life, school, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Anonymity is my name
Alcohol was the beast
I couldn’t tame
At another Double A meeting
get to hear some more shame
Rehashed,
warmed over war stories,
they all sound the same
Now, it’s my turn
to go to the center of the room
Announce my name is ...
then darkly tale my gloom
Decaying gray matter tissue
is rotting my brain
Brow-beating spouse, anger issues ...
did I share enough pain?
Look up at the clock,
it’s almost Happy Hour again
The time when I squash sad memories
by ordering another tonic and gin
I’m talking to some stranger’s friend
when the dreaded blackout begin
Wake up in a cluttered room;
don’t know where I am, don’t know with whom
Plane ticket in my pocket
says I’m in the city by the Bay
And that my name is ...
perhaps an alias
Don’t remember if it was the same one
that paid the bill yesterday
Missed the ninth step,
fell down the stairs in the hallway
I feel that dragon breath
breathing down the back of my neck
Firewater always did help me to forget
what my name is ...
Start all over again today,
go to another meeting my guilty conscience say
Get another sponsor to Sherpa the way,
as the matter in my brain is losing more gray
Going down the same worn out steps,
only in a different place
Glumly greeting another new face,
dragging that heavy ball and chain
Go sit somewhere in the back,
and remain anonymous ...
just wallow in my pissy, drunken pain
Got a hangover pounding in my head,
clanging ... nonstop banging ... alarm bells ringing
Nobody but me and the bottle to blame
As I try so hard to remember
what was my given birth name
Categories:
glumly, addiction, drug, identity, truth,
Form:
Rhyme
Glued to my desk I glumly sighed
For lack of inspiration.
Growing ‘ennui’ I could not hide,
Outside – precipitation!
Out of my window as I gazed
A squirrel stood and shivered.
Under a lilac brolly raised
This message he delivered:
‘Gather ye acorns while ye may
For winter is advancing
Harvest the fruits of life today
Good luck do not be chancing!’
Vision now gone, I burst the chain
Of routine, mundane hours,
And felt the joy of life again
Refreshed by gentle showers.
26/09/18
'carpe diem contest' sponsored by Sara Kendrick picture 3 squirrel with umbrella
Categories:
glumly, animal, appreciation, blessing,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Idle gnomes
glumly guard gravestones
ungrateful Immortal sleeps
Categories:
glumly, death, fantasy, imagination
Form:
Haiku
Lonely gazes glumly at the world that bustles by,
from the tinted windows of her heart,
where no one sees her cry.
"Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink..."
They're close in their proximity,
but not in how they think.
As God withholds His comfort, despite her many prayers,
she searches humankind in vain
to find a soul that cares.
She smiles for their comfort, and tells them she's alright,
concealing, with a stoic face,
her torment day and night.
She'd rather suffer loneliness than suffer as a fool:
The people she has dared to love
have proven false and cruel...
They sought from her compassion and the honesty they lacked,
and used the shards of broken trust
to stab her in the back.
(How quickly hope is kindled, and how painfully it dies!
--- with accusations, exploitation,
fickleness and lies.)
She smothers in her hiding place, but so it has to be,
for there is no kindred spirit
with whom she could be free.
A lonely ultimatum in a world where no one cares:
Be genuine in one's own world,
or make pretend in theirs.
Categories:
glumly, friendship, friendship love, loneliness,
Form:
Limerick
A long journey, hot and sweaty
With thorns along the jetty
Pricking my body dangerously
I sat and pondered glumly
Hell is surely filled with demons
Ready to give me lots of sermons
And reducing my dose of that love song
So that I drown, drowsy, all day long!
Miracle! Heaven and Hell so alike
No demons, hurling out, apelike!
Just an empty island, surrounded by sharks
They rode calmly as if in parks
Friendly and warm, they even wave
For sweets even if I do crave
I satisfied myself with that sweet wine
Intoxicated by those sharks in my confine!
Categories:
glumly, faith, life,
Form:
Rhyme
I pace. Tension etching lines upon my face
How much longer must I wait?
The clock ticks glumly in the hall
Time passes slowly, no quickly
Oh I don't know
My world moves in slow motion
Waiting for a call
The silence is oppressive
Shadows cast their pall upon the room
I sit, I stand, only to pace again
My heart beats with a quickened cadence
Why hasn't she called?
Why hasn't someone called?
Wait! Was that the phone?
Yes. yes, I hear it
I rush to silence the urgent ring
Hello! Hello!
Yes, this is he
Yes, she is my daughter.
Where is she?
Is she ok? Please, is she ok?
Oh thank God, I've been so worried
I saw it on the news
I hoped, no prayed that she was not there
I didn't know what to do
I was afraid to leave
Are you sure she's ok?
Yes, of course
I'm on my way right now
Thank you, thank you for letting me know
She's not alone is she, is someone with her?
Good, that's good
I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name
Are you a doctor, yes I thought you were
Will you be going back in to see her?
Would you tell her her dad loves her very much
I shrug my coat around a hollow body
Choke back tears of relief
My little girl is hurt, I need to hold her
A piece of me almost died tonight
I don't have a daughter. I wanted to write about an emotional situation
that I had not actually experienced to see if I could make the reader feel
the rush of emotions exhibited in the poem. Have no idea
if I succeeded.
Categories:
glumly, daughter, father, loss, me,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Military boots grip the pavement,
hair in a Sarah Connor ponytail
Got her sunglasses on at midnight,
waiting patiently for the right ride
to stop
And swing open an invitation
to rest her road wary bones
From the bend of the elbow,
to the cut leather gloved hand
waving a five finger salute
With a Rambo blade strapped to the thigh
of her shredded, faded blue jeans,
she has no hesitation riding shotgun
with a human unknown
Inside her deerskin vest,
she holsters a Beretta 9-mil
Trained as a sniper ... shoot to kill
Speaking politely to the stranger,
she tersely says: “keep your hands off the merchandise,
and keep your eyes on the road
And please, don’t make me have to say it twice ...
I'm saying this once, and I'm saying it nice"
With a nod of understanding,
they both settle in for the long haul
The ten thousand raven-strand beauty
says she’s going halfway to wherever
the occupant’s destination is
She remarks with a wry smile: “tonight ain’t such a bad day to live”
The driver assesses the situation,
and glumly decides that tonight ain’t a good day to die
So the hitchhiker exits from the vehicle,
thanks the stranger for the rest and the ride
After getting a bath, a meal and a good night sleep
from the local comfort environs;
she packs her gear, it’s time to be on the move again
There’s always someplace that can use her unique skills
Heading back to the edge of the road,
with no particular place in mind to go ... just stay on the eagle fly
Wing it on the sky dive
Hitchhiker, free and windblown —
With storm cloud eyes thunder bursting,
she only focuses on which car to next parachute in
Categories:
glumly, character, dark, travel, woman,
Form:
Free verse
(Victor Hugo fought against the dictator,
first on the barricades, then in scathing
poetry like this - "Souvenir de la nuit du 4".)
She took him to the hearth to warm him up,
not noticing his legs, already stiff.
Alas! Our mortal fires can't give back breath
to those who've felt the icy hand of Death.
She bent her head and took his little feet.
"And isn't this a thing to break your heart?"
she cried. "He wasn't even eight years old!
The teachers in that school thought well of him.
I tell you, Sir, if I should need a letter,
he'd write it for me. Are they terrorists?
Sweet Jesus! Are they killing children now?
I watched him play this morning, at the door.
This gentle little creature. I am old,
it would be nothing if I had to die.
So couldn't Monsieur Bonaparte shoot me,
instead?" She stopped. Her sobbing took control.
Emotions mastered once again, she said,
"What am I going to do, alone? Tell me.
He's all that I had left of his poor mother.
What did they kill him for? I wish someone
would walk in and explain it all to me.
Some shout for the Republic, that I know,
but not this little scrap of life. Not him!"
We stood there glumly, speechless, hats in hands,
helpless before this grief which couldn't be eased.
I'm sorry, Ma'am. You don't know politics.
But Monsieur Bonaparte is full of tricks.
A commoner like you, he feels that since
he has the name, he ought to be a prince.
He likes fine horses, servants, palaces,
and Sandras, Julies, Saras, Lucy's, Alices.
Of course, he'll save the Church, the Bank,
protect the Family, and folks of Rank.
But first, he needs Saint-Cloud's unblemished lawns,
where second-rates can come and grovel, fawn,
and flatter him. Such things just have to be.
That's why old women who can barely see
must sit up, weeping in the dark and cold,
to sew the winding-sheets of seven-year-olds.
Categories:
glumly, political,
Form:
Blank verse
Woebegone woe beset, be gone
A Wobbegong dumbed down in dumps
Forlorn in doldrums deep and glum
For the taste of glum is dour and sour
Mirthless and mournful, cheerless and doleful
Apparel crestfallen, disheveled, long-face, appalled
Butt out, begone, woebegone Wobbegong, long in tooth
Trim your beard, its shaggy and scummy, and glumly
See more sea, and be seen in scene on screen.
Categories:
glumly, sad, sea,
Form:
Free verse
They had measured on close counts,
Before they began his dismount,
All flowers and scents were left behind,
It was only mud that came to mind,
He was a log of wood that had no use,
They were about to consign him as refuse,
They had measured on close counts,
And now had finished his dismount,
They all glumly looked at the innards of earth,
Dug apart so as to be his home and hearth,
They lowered him with care,
Some cried and other shed tears,
Such care they had never shown,
When he was alive full blown,
They left him but he could not,
In years that followed he thought,
And all thoughts were about and their's,
But he lay still there,
Not able to do much,
While lower insects ate him as such,
Twenty yards under the surface,
The earth weighed on him like a mace,
He had volumes to carry,
Every moment without delay or tarry,
In peace he had the quiet,
Under the forceful mud of his burial site,
He was largely unattended,
Only heard anniversary footsteps,
When his thought subject came tending,
There was lot of din,
As one day woke abruptly in,
He could hear the rattling and banging of hammer,
His peace was disturbed and began to stammer,
It was furious and fast,
He presumed it could not be just his nest,
But also his neighbors from first to last,
It was familiar yes very much so,
All the sound and racket on the go,
It was regular and incessant,
As if it was rain rampant,
Yes, clouds up there from above,
Were pouring over his grave,
They sounded angry and irate,
And were determined to drown all gates,
He felt secure under mud,
And there suddenly was a seeping thud,
It was really bad and water had come in tones,
His grave was all definitely drowned,
Now the water had bossed over the earth,
Pressing it hard for the inner most berth,
It was invading the twenty yards,
And approaching him fast,
And he thought will the dead also meet the flood,
The seeping thud was on the first drop,
That fell on his stomach,
He churned as eating insects scurried,
Soon train followed thud after thud,
And then it was a volley of scuds,
His cavity was being filled,
And bones getting viscid and humid,
A coolness spread through rotten carrion,
And went on to turn into a bath for the skeleton,
It bathed him till it was just soaking,
Was it he who had ascended to heaven,
Or the heavens came pouring down to meet him even.
Categories:
glumly, inspirational, life, philosophy, peace,
Form:
Free verse