Best Lachrymose Poems
Here, I scribble a letter
to the rhapsodical rose,
dipping my quill in
stardust that slips
like a violet waterfall
from the tips of
white oak trees.
These marigold
orbs shine with
shimmering streaks
of sugar coated mist,
as I twist my palm
and breathe in
the lavender light
of kismet, while
tender tulips
soothingly sleep
upon the sweet seeds
of nostalgia.
O Mi Amour,
our lambent love
is but a succulent
sea full of stars,
where buttercup boats
sail in emerald
evanescence and
gentle lulls of
champagne waves
kiss those scarlet
shells of secrets,
echoing with
vibrant whale-songs.
Can you feel the
mulberry bluebells
chiming as I glide
on pistachio
plateau of promises?
Am I your soulful dynasty,
just as you are my
star-spun Prince
descended from the eden,
my healer from
charismatic realms and
my last lachrymose wish?
You're a museum
of art for the
moon-shaped chimera
of peonies painted
with hazel silk
and this chameleon
danger holds no
manifestation in
our foreign folklore,
because when
the last dewdrops
dance with sunlight,
holographic memories
of 'You and I',
will forever
remain alive in
the tamarind tales of
watercolor wildflowers.
So, when the
jinxed icicles cut
me with their
silver sword,
spring shivers
in snowy meadows
and the sun sets
along the horizon
of our ruffled story,
you'll always
hear these husky
notes of my
exotic scents
lingering in ivy
laced rains and
falling upon the
graffiti of your
ruby bones.
You'll eternally hear
celestial serenades,
singing in raspberry
language of our
incensed love which
will erase the
acetone sadness
of my unwritten absence
and those crimson
ribbons of violin's ode
will spin our saga
around those
slaty branches
of bitter destiny.
Categories:
lachrymose, emotions, fantasy, feelings, love,
Form:
Free verse
When you are
an agonizing
echo from a
benevolent voice,
life exhales in
mahogany haze,
spreading across the
lachrymose meadows as
scarred rivulets of
sandalwood scents,
where ceramic
rhymes slumber in
watercolor coffins
with opaque metaphors,
weaving hoaxed
hymns of the nascent
heavens within these
mortal hues.
I'm a bronze brushstroke
of origami colours,
pinned to the weary
wall as the state
of forsaken art,
splattered in acrylic-
resembling sombre
diamonds that
knit ebony pixels
of my onyx heart,
scattered across the
blistered brims,
framed from
fate crossed palms;
doused in poisoned
henna depicted
in dismay, to portray
the painting of despair
within my splitting mind.
Isn't the monochromatic
shade of an aesthetic
mural a clementine
symmetry, where ruby psalms
stained with black peonies,
bleed thistle-ribboned
tales from an orchid's silence?
Not every artist
can mold
peace from a
pastel palette
filled with poignant
petals engrossed
in purple pain,
but poetic fingers
can sculpt an evergreen
masterpiece through
crisp flakes of
tumbling torment,
carried through
arctic mists.
But is there a
teal-azure texture
to create a
timeless tapestry
interlaced with
lavender musings?
As melancholy soars
beyond roseate realms
like a moon-winged butterfly,
fluttering across
cantaloupe sunsets,
etching heartbeats of
hope in harp's periwinkle pigments,
when twinkling jewels
lose their shine,
leaving tales untold
to waltz with
forlorn silhouettes-
dwelling in a gallery of grief.
For, in the calligraphic
corners of chaos,
I’ve found healing,
between ethereal pages
within a cathartic labyrinth.
Categories:
lachrymose, muse,
Form:
Free verse
Life is never a planned ride
on a magical carpet,
that awakens jasmine
dreams lost in the brisk air.
We weave our own
zest of zephyr,
to tailor-stitch a tapestry;
buttoned with zeal,
cuff-linked with faith,
designed in silence~
fragranced with forgiveness...
We forget to appreciate
dusky clouds carrying
crooning rainbows,
when mists of memories,
shroud the lemongrass lace
of velvety eventides~
As twisted thoughts wade
through a lachrymose
web of thistles~
skies drizzle
tear-stained diamonds.
There was a time
when my consciousness
refused to seek
mulberry streaks
of halcyon light,
flickering beyond
cluttered chaos
carved in confusion,
for I've long waltzed
through drowsy darkness~
that circles around
the kundalini spirits,
stealing sacred energy
like vicious vultures
intoxicated by the
fickle flavors of
fleeting seasons.
I ponder, would I have
found clarity, if I had
abandoned the
bleeding dreariness
that dragged me
towards an abyss of angst?
Perhaps, I shall find the
sunsets that slumber
behind wintry eyes,
to heal this ebony skin
that hides bruised veins.
So tonight as I listen
to the rain serenade
the silence that swirls
between my
aching heartbeats,
I find serenity cascade
like whistling waterfalls,
calming inner-fears,
as I let go of the shadows
lurking behind the
angels that guard
enticing temptations,
tethered by false narratives.
Here in the rising glows
of ineffable moonlight,
I've seen the seven-stars
sparkling around auroras,
dancing to the symphonies
of truth interwoven with
rouge reveries of
today's twilight,
wiping away whiffs of
yesterday's blurred visions,
and unseen truth of tomorrows,
as the choir of mindfulness
orchestrates a
magnolia melody,
where every infinite rhythm
reflects the virtuous sound
of butterfly bliss
fluttering~
along mirthful chambers,
within the sobriety of my heart.
Categories:
lachrymose, emotions, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
Between paper-soft
worlds of fragile
imaginations,
I float upon those
gossamer tulips
that split every
second of saccharine
musings and
eclipsed confessions,
distinguishing all
photoelectric synonyms
of lachrymose
stimuli towards
glassy manipulations
of blood-fragranced sun.
Everything that is
sown in sweetened
textures of afterglow-soil,
always blossoms upon
decayed fossils of
frivolous fates, as
balanced bullets have
forever pierced
through the pulpy
sheaths of nature's
rainbow-blankets,
but their aged roots
always adorn nourishing
gemstones of
ephemeral healing,
to spread their wise
branches across earth's
mirrors, as the thin
veil disappears.
What is the raven-spade
-hearted impulse
without its nascent yet
succulently flowing
snow-white mist?
What if, reality speaks
of those skies smitten with
hypnotic illusions of
chess-shaped horizons?
Have yin and yang ever
repelled each other's
rusty-maroon notes
that they whisper in
immortal prelude?
We have remained
skillfully blindfolded to
the isles of inceptions,
swirling amidst ripples
of diamond-kismet
estuaries, washing away
consciences with
diplomatic dewdrops
of frosty maple fog.
Tending to forget that,
we are mere syzygy knights,
crawling along
slanting seesaws as
bioluminescent bishops.
Our schizophrenic
threads have been
tied to the aroma of
poisoned satin within
these final alphabets of
enchante´ epitaphs,
where life will be
the last organ grinder
of karma, playing
an evanescent checkmate
which shall ascend
every soulful spirit
beyond Persephone's
penumbral embrace.
Categories:
lachrymose, dark, deep, destiny, meaningful,
Form:
Free verse
Music is an undying
art of soul ~
an abstract eden, where,
euphonious unicorns
glide in strawberry sonatas,
amplifying rhapsody in
ballads of flight,
when fuchsia feathers
tease those
jingling breezes,
infusing breaths
in every lifeless aroma;
where I can soar
beyond the
brushstrokes
of symphonies that
planktons sing to me,
in the requiems of
forsaken pearls,
crooning with
silenced shimmers
beneath wavy blues.
Maybe,
I'm a songwriter
without words,
and my electric fingers
trace the tunes
of serene strings,
when guitars weave
a sonorous guilt
midst ruby runes
of regrets.
I wish to keep
swinging in a
cosmic cadence,
where celestial notes
choreograph
themselves in the
moonwalking
mellifluence of
lunar legacies.
I gossip with
neon nightingales,
laced with neutrinos
and compel them
to chant those
healing incantations
of love and glory,
like the forlorn
princess - Rapunzel,
desiring to feel
the glow of
familiar lanterns,
winged with
hazy syncs of
unsung yesteryears.
I wonder if,
I'm not meant
to compose
crystal canticles
in a Disney duet,
for, I believe,
I'm a soul searcher
in the flesh of
a soloist, concocting
an elixir of my
existence through
cinnamon anthems
of mystical
moonrises, as
they softly unfold,
a million
unheard tempos,
within tranquil
memoirs.
I'm the 'maiden of music'
resting as a floret on
every sepal,
yearning to become
a unique acapella
of nature,
where empathy
has an ethereal
dialect of
nurturing spirits
and tinkles
of magical waterfalls
whisper in
gentle lachrymose lulls
of our ambrosial Mother.
When the harmony
of my voice,
kisses those
ivory keys of
the heart-shaped
piano, they
echo a tipsy secret
in my sunset skin,
making me
believe ~
"I'm everywhere
in the essence,
yet nowhere
to be found...",
like the sweet
scents of
hummingbirds,
smiling behind
that first dusky star.
"In each husky hallelujah
of ribboned halts and replays,
life is a song ~
where every lyric,
phrases an ember of end,
and when passionate heartbeats
shall knit sombre medleys,
I will hum in the last 'chef-d'oeuvre'... "
Categories:
lachrymose, art, deep, life, meaningful,
Form:
Free verse
As the last petal falls
upon trembling twigs,
and the heart withers,
like nocturnal stars
weeping in a casket~
of ice-laced sepals,
soaked in searing silence,
cloaked in thistles of nothingness,
let Cleopatra’s amulets
dress your blurred horizon,
embroidered with
empty promises.
I wear our forbidden love
like a bleeding epitaph,
inscribed with
gusts of grief
and twisted tendrils,
emanating memories of us~
a mystical reflection of
how once we danced
like daffodils sipping
spiced gold magic
while the satanic sun
burned the flickering
flames of felicity within twin souls,
weaving poetic pansies
across the symphonic sky,
brushed with Sahara crystals,
unfolding a canopy of unbreakable
c o m p a s s i o n ...
O beloved black dahlia,
if I could, I would
fetch you the moon on a spoon,
steal the galaxies~
wrap them in
supernova serenity.
I’ll paint lakes of longing
with opalescent silver,
sculpt Swarovski swans
glazed in iridescent bliss,
tempting the alluring twilight
to drizzle aurora threads
across mysterious silhouettes,
engrossed in
an ethereal orchestra.
But if tomorrow
these words weigh little
less than the dreams
we’ve dreamed in stillness,
remember my soul is tied
to your rain-kissed metaphors,
and even if rhymes cannot
fix what’s undone,
these verses ache
to cleanse every stain
left within lifeless leaflets.
For no shift in season
could veil the vibrancy of vermilion
still rushing through these veins,
singing your name
in scarred cadence,
resting my quivering quill on
the cusp of the cursed springs,
as I embrace darkness before
the dawning of dulcet wings,
to lure you back
to the land of timeless trinkets,
a lachrymose lament~
romanticized as the requiem
for bewitched orchards...
Categories:
lachrymose, dark, deep,
Form:
Free verse
I’ve spent many nights lying in the dark
This time is a period of self reflection
A journey that I’m all too terrified to embark
I’m naked on the examination table, performing my own dissection
My insides are poisoned with abhorrence and self doubt
I cannot see the good in myself
I know this can’t be how you hoped I’d turn out
My spot for accomplishments and good deeds is but an empty shelf
I can put my all into becoming someone better
I start to be happy and enjoy the finer things
Then I wake up in a sweat and look down to see the fetter
It seems as though I never severed the strings
This cycle of mine is a never ending tale
I open myself up and hope to be contented
Then I let the sorrow creep in and make my efforts derail
I have cursed myself to be forever tormented
Despite my reoccurring lachrymose state
I will always keep pushing forward
I will not allow this suffering to be my fate
I will fill my dreams with hope as I sleep peacefully in my bed
Categories:
lachrymose, growth,
Form:
Free verse
they're not speaking to me now, the Muses;
they're being stubborn,
witholding information, like beetle-browed accomplices -
their mouths pulled tight as drawstring purses.
they sit on their twin thrones of epiphany and genius,
smiling silently,
mockingly, while my fingers twitch with impotent yearning
and the chambers of my mind are cold,
dark and hollow as a cave.
i have become a contradiction in terms -
the wordless poet strikes again...
writer's block is the yoke around my neck,
the anchor that sends me drifting lachrymose
into the suffocating depths -
i am drowning,
swallowing tendrils of seaweed and tufts of
gossamer melancholy.
a struggling artist shouldn't have to work this hard -
to pay the bills yes, but not to create;
without the birthing process there is no artist...
yet there is still hope, a smidgen, a dark smudge on the horizon.
some knight errant might appear, with golden locks
and a smile that trembles the knees,
to inject love and longing back into my sulky heart.
he might extend his brave hand, down into
these murky depths, and yank me up;
dragging my creativity, bedraggled, choking,
retching, into the bleak light of inspiration's flare...
but then again, who believes in knights these days?
i am just as likely to wither away down here,
among the fishes and the wall-eyed anemones,
until the words have all filtered from my brain
and poetry is just a fond memory
from long-ago halcyon days...
Categories:
lachrymose, angst, on writing and
Form:
Free verse
So full asleep
is the heart
which once has loved
Greeted by solitude
is each thought
which once has lingered
like purple jasmines
in a Spring garden
Gone are the breezy dreams
which spread their wings
in Vales of honey
Concealed those lips
which once has kisssed
each every curl
that lay so soft
on her bare shoulders
Deep thorn the pangs
Silent the soul
which bear his absence
Those nights
seem far
so far away now
Such few her joy
in a remembarance
But,What does it matter ?
Lachrymose! ! !
What word is that?
So familiar... very familiar
yet, so very strange
when the last flicker faded
but wax still melts
Emotion 's weakened
but the feeling 's strong
What does it matter?
When to live is to exist
and existing is without him
When to see is to believe
and believing is to be blind
She was a nobody
till He came to her
He was a nobody
then She found him
They were a nobody
in the hourglass of time
Just ghostly mist
from eachother's past
sweet perfumed mist
which sweared to live
between the winds
but now has vanished
beneath lushed moss
and marbled dust
Categories:
lachrymose, lost love
Form:
Light Verse
Where burgundy pansies blossom
Amidst pearlescent violet-weeds,
Whirling medieval rose's ode,
In moon's lachrymose memories.
Categories:
lachrymose, flower, heart, imagery, longing,
Form:
Verse
Rainbow roses revived
Rainbow rains rising
Rising of ruby rituals
Rising from heartbeat of lies
Lies with opal wings
Lies betray every crown
Crown of the spiritual realm
Crown of a forbidden Queen
Queen reigning with clemency
Queen who thrones destiny
Destiny is an inkless rhyme
Destiny is a slave of time
Time weaves a vault of woes
Time is an eclipse of fingers
Fingers tied in inflicted foes
Fingers script sagas untold
Sagas immortal
Sagas unfurling a sanctuary
Sanctuary of secrecy
Sanctuary of forlorn mists
Mists float in lunar memories
Mists I breathe
Breathe in hope
Breathe in mystery
Mystery hides in midnight
Mystery of masked twilight
Twilight voices silence
Twilight swinging on tears
Tears of honeysuckle sun
Tears homing fears
Fears of illusions
Fears forge fatal seclusions
Seclusion of fertile faith
Seclusion of lachrymose lilies
Lilies lethally fragrant
Lilies bloom in death
Death rebirths a phoenix
Death is a wizard
Wizard of resilience
Wizard of soul
Soul is untamable
Soul is a swan of liberty
Liberty of love
Liberty of heart
Heart sings in passion
Heart is a daisy dove,
Dove echoing an empyrean legacy
Dove admiring the cherry moon
Moon...
Legacy...
Categories:
lachrymose, art, deep, imagery, life,
Form:
Blitz
Phantom Fear
A schizoid severe conjuring phantom fear
Puddles of pain never to redeem and regain
Demons at dawn seductive serpents spawn
Abandoned by god forever fallaciously flawed
Fallen angels spread devoured by the dead
Embryonic evil sings flapping of wounded wings
Meet my megalomania a silent schizophrenia
Forever falling I hear the wavering wind calling
Tangled in torment within a lachrymose lament
Tightening the captive chain again and again.
Aug.28.2017
Fear
Sponsored by: Debbie Guzzi
Categories:
lachrymose, fear, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
"Suicide doesn't kill the pain-
it just passes it on to someone else"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
weeping from loss I emptied the ocean,
remembering each emotion
abandoned by devotion-
sights unseen by nude eyes shine,
forgetting your dear heart is divine-
please spread angel dust as a sign...
that you will be fine
ice falls down your cheek-
frozen like the air i breath
winter never knew her value,
for she is a season of loss
and o, those honey-hazel eyes
you wear-
once full of honeysuckle
brilliance,
now enveloped by thoughts
of your willow weeping,
your ebon pupils dilate-
(forever blinded by my affliction)
i gently tucked your laugh away
for safekeeping
lost in a landslide of non-forgotten
lachrymose moments
“reveries of safety try to flow,
but they've been sandbagged by pain and woe”
youthful lesions crawl with ease-
one pin prick to the heart is
enough to be lost inside what might
have been
searching for touches needing
to be touched,
longing to kiss the unkissable
craving to voice what’s unspeakable
shielding your innocence to fear not
what lied ahead-
(soul stolen by youthful demons)
the december rain is falling, and-
so are you
~three months later~
seems like a long time
but it’s been no time-
feels like a lifetime…
since you've gone
for i cannot live
with your need to swallow death-
sin of an angel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Forms used:
Rhyme (AAABBBB), Verse, Couplet, Verse, Senryu
August 8, 2019
Categories:
lachrymose, death,
Form:
Verse
I put aside my heart where love betrays the nestled night,
And egotistical echoes fall short in their submissive stagger…
Sanctioned solitudes fill the antagonizing abrasive air,
As my eyes stare through the never-ending vapourific voids.
The essence of the love I held extinguishes upon existence,
Like a severed statuesque Idol I only feel the empty now…
My tangled tears run dry for I cannot wilfully weep,
Only the lachrymose rain supports me with solace.
Now stands before you the rigamortis ruins left to rot,
No sounds I hear, only entombments of a chambered heart…
No words I speak, enslaved by illusionary imbecilic love,
I am lost in the wandering wilderness of non-existence.
Aug.31.2019
Silence Poetry
Sponsored by: Silent One
Music...Butterfly Waltz
Music that will make you cry...
Piano & Cello duets...2013
With a female virtual voice
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Categories:
lachrymose, sad love, silence, solitude,
Form:
Free verse
Azure blue skies weep in rent glacial torrents,
iridescent earth sun trap poised to garner sympathy,
dark red cloud’s indignant float might yet rumble,
toxic deluge drenches mudbank plot as toilers whine,
thunderstruck I gaze at wild indigo sea mist on brine-fleck shore
Edge of seat terra firma species orange alert mere bluster,
grim altitude apocalypse for amber moon orb,
rampant shower pockmark with visual scar as trenchant plague,
vapour trail from lachrymose horizon now a shrunken haze,
alarm bell’s doleful peal across an impact cratered expanse once sumptuous mint green
Stream of gurgling silken brook upon reciprocal bright cadence,
otherworldly pine from volatile nebulae’s damp swathe,
vapid biome acreage a gaunt reflection though surreal,
despite magenta stardust twinkle whose infant phase corralled
by wayward drizzle
Hemisphere by half redolent of sombre devastation,
yet exotic visual haunt is that vaunted shadow zone,
sweet maple leaf ether bound refuge from monsoon rife,
pot of gold opal strewn paradise escape hatch,
from lesion blight topsoil or open sore empyrean
Purple leaf and bell pepper cascade swirling o'er panic stricken globe,
perfume clad hillock under hawk-eye squint,
denizens idyllic foster atmospheric canny urban vault,
they hobble gingerly on salmon pink stone bridge en route to harried terrain rescue
Categories:
lachrymose, anxiety, art, august, care,
Form:
Free verse