Best Lugubrious Poems


Running With the Rain

Oh I love the sound of the rain
   a softly spoken spiraling sustain,
marathon runners against the grain
   all soon lost within their drain...

One slows down near my eye
   a staring contest with a somber sigh,
could it be a suspicious spy?
   as my tears match their coasting cry...

It then speeds up again 
   leaving satiated sorrows within its stain,
for it utters no words to complain
   only the remnants of its strain...

Avoiding languishing lanes to leap
   where whispering wallows weep,
formless in its kaleidoscope keep
   racing down the window to sweep...

Longing lugubrious raindrops skewing
   victimized amidst my viewing,
each one in a ponderous pursuing
   a dismal deluge in their renewing...

A jaded journey of their repeating
   sharing thoughts upon our meeting,
all is dry after their completing 
   memories once shared now fleeting.





Aug.09.2019
Writing Challenge 1, 
August 2019 - Just Write
Sponsored by: Dear Heart


Musical background...
Signs of Nature
Rain Sounds
Stormy Skies
Female Virtual Voice

Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Categories: lugubrious, fate, november, rain,
Form: Rhyme

I Am Part 2

I am the wind 
beneath the 
sparrows wings 
as it heavenly sings.
I am the single rose 
sitting in a barren land.
I am the the lions voice,
and the partridge voice as they 
rejoice. 

I am the beam of light 
penetrating the vastness
of the worlds darkness.

The secret power is 
no secret,the secret 
power is me.

I am the secret power revealed
and concealed in greatness.
I am the suns majestic flames.
The clarity of rain drops,
the zest ,to the minds
bland thoughts of boredom.
I am entertainment.
I am the wood pecker,
soaring steadily in the
balmy winds picking at success.
I am the eagles soaring over
sweet allysum, capturing the sent. 

Stupendous I am,
Preening my mind with knowledge,
a pen rigged with wisdom,
wisdom speaks beyond paper 
as it leaks from the pore of my quill.
I am the potion full of devotion. 
My pen rigged with morphine,
killing I hope the pain of my readers 
with poems.

You are no longer lugubrious,
lugubrious you are not.
Healed and fixed upon the first dosage.

I am ,I am ,
I am the poetic doctor,wooing medicine 
from the green pastures,
 to robe my pen with healing secrets.
I am the nectarines of peach orchards
 basting the mouth of pages with sweet words.
Sweet splash sweet splash. I am the sweet taste. 
I am the revival of a sun baked raisin, the
 revival to a corps laying beneath circling 
vultures of the Arabian dessert. 
I am the fragments of light circling your heart,a campfire,
the supplier of its poetic aspire. 
I am the fridge for poetic dreams,
preventing from expire, raising 
heat of poetry soup higher and higher. 

Ill never retire until my face
 wrinkled and my hair grey wire.
My pen aiming for a writing desire. 
On icy roads I keep traction with 
hot ink and mental snow tires.
I am a poet wrobed with 
creative ink and sapphire.
I am safe gaurding the gates
 of a dying world of poetry.

looked upon as a fool why should I stop, 
because kids from high school saide iam not cool,
what is their some rule that makes it uncool.
It must be april fools ,safe guarding 
your desire is a golden rule.
I am the hope, iam poetrys stool fueling
 it with my hand tool full of ink iam the talisman of poetrys gates.
I know who I am and this inspires ME!!!

By: Elliott Bowe
Inspirational Contest
Sponsor:Gail Doyle
Categories: lugubrious, caregiving, faith, inspirational, passion,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Dance with Delusions

Dancing with delusions, sparks of hellfire
Course through my lugubrious quill pen.
Distorted words igniting fear,
Anxiety fills crevices,
Encircling, silencing,
Asphyxiating.
Walls closing in,
Compressing.
Hope fades,
Doom.
Dread
Runs cold.
Veins poisoned,
Sanity slips
Unmercifully.
The angels are mimicked.
Light dimming, darkness descends
As demons mingle with the dead.
Apocalyptic skies crack open
To wash away all that you held sacred.
© Sara Jama  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lugubrious, death, gothic, imagery, metaphor,
Form: Etheree

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Inconstant Beloved

At eventide,
Under the roseate glow
Of the receding evening sun
I sauntered down the road
To where my beloved dwell
Not far-off from my own abode

Fast by his threshold 
A low moan issued from his room
I made open the unlocked door
And so I happened upon him
Mightily taking his mistress
My eyes grew wide in shock

I made as if to storm,
But then stopped
Loosed upon me, an exquisite pain
Felt with every fibre of my being 
Soundlessly, I turned around 
Post-haste, homeward bound

In great dolour, I walked onward
Carrying my enfeebled feet
Heedless of the lowering clouds
Lightning flashing, thunder pealing
Yet I walk onward
And so the heaven opened 

Pouring, the rain
The entire me suffused with it 
Thus I quiver in frost, yet
I walked my leaden leg in the drenching rain
And so the inky blackness of the night cast over me

The evanescent rain went home
Afterwards , I gained my shelter 
All rain-drenched 
I laid, inert in my bed
With an unblinking stare,
My eyes cast into the void

Benightedly, I fell in the arms of Morpheus 
And I saw the door opened with a groan
Came in, my inconstant lover  
He drew nearer and sat fast by me
I couldn't cast a look at him
For scalding tears welled up in my eyes

He pillowed my head on his chest 
And nursed me in his arms
Touched his lips to my locks
Now patting, now caressing 
My shoulder, my tresses
His heart beating pitter-patter  

He held the nape of my neck 
And with an undertone voice
Whispered to my ear
Forgive my failings, my Inamorata 
You're a vision of beauty,
And you're my true love.

I harkened to the honeyed words
Falling from his silver tongue
My heart leapt 
Thus, hungrily,
I bathed his lips with sensuous kisses 
And I melted into his embrace.

I arouse from my slumber, behold! 
E'en the murky darkness of the night
Has passed away
And the sun, smiling in the heavens
But my heart, still heavy with pain
Alas! Who to bring solace to my lugubrious tear-stained visage
Categories: lugubrious, betrayal, break up, feelings,
Form: Ballad

Premium Member In Dublin Gaol

‘Tis lucky me father lies in the grave,
Than t’see the havoc I have wreaked
In the name of actin’ bold and brave,
My misadventures dastardly peaked.

In this musky gaol I am wasting away
While me life passes before me eyes
Chaplains teaching me how to pray,
Give up with their lugubrious sighs.

Long since I no longer wish for home
Before the blazin’ fires of the hearth,
Cedar sizzles and marshmallows foam
My children giggle at songs of mirth.

And me here so cold behind these walls
I no longer dream of freedom’s will,
While me sentence spurts and stalls
I swallow punishment’s bitter swill. 

SEVENTH PLACE WINNER
Written October 17, 2022
Submitted to "2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 18" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Categories: lugubrious, character, places, prison,
Form: Quatrain

On His Death

My father was a prestigious man
So lugubrious he had to die
I was just at the age of twelve
When i was told he was away
Naive of why he committed the crime;
He took the life he never owned
He burnt himself alive
 
For nine years of my life
I have been in a battle
On why he killed himself
I remember me on his laps
Telling me sweet stories of life
I recall the songs he sings
To me in our own wordings
My father was a gift
For who will see no gift in a father?
Though never knew him to the brim
I knew i had a father
 
His death has brought me pain
To see me a fatherless soul
I know i have a gain
A destiny not to be wasted
I have an abode in God
I feel i am at rest
My father is late
But happiness dwells till date
My life is like a rose
Laid in the midst of thorns
And yet still blossoms
For when a father is lost
A father is surely found
Categories: lugubrious, death, father, me, father,
Form: Elegy


Antigone

I am the face of misery
My life, a dissonance of autumn and spring,
The years are written in the same
Lugubrious, nostalgic grey
How can it be the author to blame?
I cannot scream this all away…
Burn nor Bleed this all away…
To Death I am Ordained

Lacuna ever growing
With Velvet sheets of life flowing
Aeons apart of my "royalty"
Under the mask the cannot see...
Can you dispel this tragedy:
Antigone - Epiphany failing

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

No words of hope
No words of hate
Do I have Lenore to send to me:
The sordid child of Thebes
Caught In the longest nightmare
life - the slowest way to die

I know this is my life 
But I'm not under control
under the mask the will see
Just Another Human

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

Can you dispel my life; this tragedy?
Can you control the storm in my mind?
I'm asking you: can you rid me
Of The Curse of Antigone?
Categories: lugubrious, allegory, angst, confusion, death,
Form: Ballad

Just Before the Rain

I’m happiest when the weather
is gloomy and threatening rain.
Its tendency, this low pressure,
forces most people to remain
inside comfortable houses.
Outside becomes much quieter
assuming a shushed quietus
that wouldn’t normally occur
if the day were a sunny one;
so I pray that this low holds fast
concealing the intrusive sun
behind the looming overcast  
while I revel in its stillness
and its lugubrious bleakness.
Categories: lugubrious, nature,
Form: Verse

Cafe Noir

A man sinks his breath deep into a saxophone 
He fills a smoky room with its tenor tone
All the clichés are here 
From the femme fatale to the trodden tramp
The atmosphere borders on camp  
 Be you from a Manhattan high rise or a Brooklyn broken home  
At the Café Noir the blue don’t drink alone 
So take a seat in a booth or at the bar 
By the depressed comedian or the fallen star  

Everyone here is friends with the bartender 
From the poorest soul to the biggest spender
He can be a wise old sage or a shoulder to cry on
He’s been known to spot a drink or two for those out of money for buyin 

The band here does not set the mood
They simply play off the harmony of the room 
 Loaded .45's wise guy’s and private eyes 
The words spoken here are cynical or lies 

But can they really help their lugubrious prose? 
After all the world is a mad house 
When people come here
It’s not a bar they walk in
But a world they walk out

There are many treatments for those shell shocked by that outside loony bin    
Namely whisky, scotch, bourbon or gin 
The Café Noir can’t save you from your blues
But it can give you a glass to fall into when you lose 
So come out of your home, blood soaked gutter or office 
The band is on point and you can numb yourself to life’s problems; so pompous 
At the Café Noir you will never drink alone
Here the blue will always have a home
Categories: lugubrious, blue, cool, dark, drink,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Shadows of Moral Dilemmas

Something lugubrious lies lurking
Inside every human being,
Preventing us from reaching 
Our propitious potential.
It follows us from cradle to grave
Leaving no one unscathed 
In the ever-present shadows of moral dilemmas
Within the cavernous reaches of our hearts and minds. 
We struggle unceasingly with this tug-of war
Between wrong and right, 
Darkness and light
And occasionally, get lost in the battle.
We do what we can to follow 
Whatever religiously worshipful upbringing we learned,
Hoping that we won’t wallow
In oceans of mental mud 
Or get burned. 
And so we listen
To that still small voice inside
That tries so hard to rise 
Above all the muck, mire and desires
Laid out before us 
To follow the narrow path up
The mountain of purposeful possibilities.
Never quite reaching the peak 
Of morale perfection, however,
We tend to stumble and bumble our ways around 
Giving in to nature’s temptations
In multitudinous ways  
By allowing our inherent weaknesses 
To take control of our destiny.
Some call it sin but then again,
It may be we’re still learning to live.
Because life is no game 
And neither is shame
When we’re trying so hard 
To give.
Categories: lugubrious, introspection,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Letter L

Little Lucy likes liver
Long legged Lou loves Lucy
Loquacious Lenny laments loudly
Lovely Linda listens little
Listen Linda Listen!
Laborious Leroy lives luxuriously
Lethargic Larry lies levitating
Liberal Lillian languishes longingly
Looking languid, lacking levity
Lexical Lexi, legendary lewd librarian
Loves licentious liaisons
Lecherous Lucas lubricious libertine
Looks lustily like leading lothario
Lugubrious lyric, ludicrous lines
Lacking lucidity, looney lunacy
Lightheaded lexicography!
Lucrative limerick?? Laughable!
Categories: lugubrious, funny, humor, humorous, language,
Form: Alliteration

Premium Member How the Human Mind Ponders

I find it fascinating how the human mind ponders
the origin and shape of ideas 
and how everyone 
wanders. 

I wonder why I 
can’t help but think 
in terms of rhythm and rhyme   
when oftentimes others
prefer a more subtle approach 
to how their thoughts are imperceptibly 
dreamed, derived, or discovered.

They say everyone's chemistry is a mixed bag
of good and bad, sour, sweet, sad, mad and 
lugubrious to laughably glad.

And I confess I don't know much
about psychology, psychiatry, or the brain
but this I know like the moon that glows:
the mind is a wondrous, thunderous thing.

So, if you're anything like me and 
hope to see 
the intricacies and mysteries 
of the human mind, 
better  
take a step back 
as a matter of fact, finding 
answers may be lying 
still,
undefined.
Categories: lugubrious, psychological,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member A Models Likeness

A bruised heart scorned, sacred vows of a saint, sorrows of
unrequited lovers—art is what you paint—I Am Anaya

A Models Likeness 

Hues of magentas and white acrylic silky spells
Vibrant colors mixed from his palette he evokes
Swept over again ‘til emerging shades of eggshells
He has an ability to convey a sense of deep melancholy 
and yearning in much of his work
Thus, the reason she chose him furiously, 
at first for whatever it took
to capture her in what she is to atone for, 
her fate to be.

With bated breath the artist brushes swirling strokes
A finished background, now ready for her face sedate
A statuesque quality she provokes
More lugubrious than usual, she tells him she sat up late
worrying her fiancé be held up on the way
The model has been helpful he thought to himself
although she stood very still for him, all day.

He paints her salient gown next, her pose engaged
Her smile feigned, lips swollen red, from biting he detects
A glance of an earlier sketch traced of her enraged
He hides it while diluting color to match her pale skin
Languid and weak holding back her tears, 
she summons him to begin again.

Her inner likeness fails to appear, still he proceeds
Rest and ease your mind
What do you hear?  The renowned realist artist pleads
Think of times when life was kind
She protests it is no use, tells him to let it be, 
He agrees, lifting his brush and with its pointy end,
he then turns her head slightly, thirty degrees
Back to the canvas a figure now transcends.
   
A husband’s absent journey down the aisle
leaves her alone but with a phantom kiss                                                                             
A soul rendered vacant from callous guile  
A portrait of doom gazing into an abyss
What would’ve shown through paint; pain and sorrows
The artist knows what needs to be done, none the less
Lest what may have been in the lover’s tomorrows,
‘twas the painter's blissful ode to her wedding dress.
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lugubrious, betrayal,
Form: Rhyme

The Rebirth of Beauty

A rose peals amidst a gloomy fog.
The fall of rosy red peddles guided down
streams of tears, dyed red with blood. 
Separated peddles wish to amalgamate again.
A naked stem full of thorns, beneath the moons loom.
A rose once crowned with a red flourishing 
bulb of pulchritude. Lugubrious peddles blown
in the fierce balmy winds. Staining the air with
vibrant red notes of sadness. Spread
 abroad this torn beauty, drifting in the balmy winds.
The arid autumn leaves becalm the rose
peddles and says, true beauty is the rebirth of beauty lost
Categories: lugubrious, hope, loss, sad, red,
Form: Free verse

The Mistake I Made

was to let my heart deceive
True love i did not receive
Despite all i wanted to achieve
For selfishness is all i believe
 
      The mistake i made
was to make her a less priority
Despite all faithfulness and loyalty
Like a rag i meted thus
So ignorant of my loss
 
      The mistake i made
So lugubrious! The loss is great
Now my life; solely dwelt on fate
For i now let fate now succeed
For to only him can i concede
 
      The mistake i made
now nemesis has come to stay
I pray soon it goes away
Like a bird fly your way
I'm sober! Oh Lord don't delay
Categories: lugubrious, sad,
Form: Didactic
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