Best Melancholia Poems
Manic Melancholia
He flew high as a kite with no ceiling concealing his madness
A hawker plying his trade with all prayers lost preying on reason
Sold out flapping wings and the wind soaring no sores attached
No strings yet a puppet found but not lost scraping skies all in one
He struck the most delirious chords strangled the care of his mind
A hanged man falling a bruising garrotte noosed losing the plot then
The parachute opened on impact buried the mania deep under cover
Mournful melancholy makes her miserable,
Murky moods move her to morosity,
She's miffed and morbid, her mind is mourning,
Moping about in mellow melancholia,
Marred in misery, misty-eyed, she's mortified,
Melting in maddening malaise of malcontentment,
Malfunctioning malignancy has made her mean,
Melodramatic memories magnify her misfortune,
This monotonous, mundane, mirthless morning,
She's a mangled mess of merciless moaning,
A mere mortal mutilated by melancholic musings.
9th May 2023
Contest: Anatomy of Melancholy
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Drooping pen said “enough of melancholia”
Spread words of cheer, like sweet smelling magnolia
Vowed never again to write of misery
So fished for words in diction’s fishery
Who would become the inspiring muse
Some clever thought or inspiring ruse
Up came blondie Donald duck
America’s ex-president, my potluck
A failed businessman turned slick politician
Pulled wool over the eyes like a crafty magician
A moving hyperbole of lies and untruths
Never to be forgotten in America's history books
a confined abyss
dis ease,born of despair-
early morning mist
evanescing in
new light-giving care
You may hear me recite this tanka verse and much of my PS poetry on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
At the time of night that men call 10:30,
I sit in a corner bar by myself,
Watching two tables---
Clusters of life and sound---
A softball team and their wives/girlfriends/lovers
Drinking softly into the evening
A child's face, released from mother's side,
Floats around the tables,
Serene and white in tavern dusk,
Asking a quarter from each adult
Until finally someone gives him one
To make him gone
And for the millionth time
I look into the mirrored tile behind the bar
And see you there beside me
You're looking down---
Digging through your purse---
And the wound that never heals
Opens just a little more---
A quarter's worth---
This bittersweet memories led me
back to yesterday’s laughter;
looking back at the awakening
and rise of the throb of two hearts
that were once in love together.
The heavenly hues and
shades were in sight everywhere.
The chirping birds, the blowing wind,
and the murmur of waterfall
delighted the open ear.
This mind scrutinized and categorized
each and every fiber of the imagery.
We savored the reminiscence
of the promising future happily.
As this sob now creates a dream,
the whisper complains
of the gloom to the moon:
“I hope it’s still possible”.
The square is filled with the tingling air of spring
They came from far and near the masses gathered there,
Celebratory, a bit premature, to shed their outer gear.
It's the human way, so the elders say to those who ask
To egg on winter's fate--sooner is better than late
Come join the fray--the hedgehog tale provides a date.
Yet even if the shadow cast is vast the light will have its way
Like a hunch, its nagging creep--until it gets into my sleep
And I begin to wait and weep in secret for the solace of the darkest day.
Gifted to the special and
wrapped in a blanket without
purpose, a meaningless tableau
of different faces, each palette
empty of colour
Functional shut down.
Exhaustion to the very core.
This world of hawks and jackals
scavenging the very soul,
and bleak mid-winter lasting
every revolution of the sun
Too much time to strike a chord,
too much effort to tune a note.
Surrounded by orchestras of vibrant sound
going about their business
Too much concrete for the joints to move.
Waiting for a salvation no longer embraced,
yet confirmed in a single moment
The shadows cast are long and late.
The frieze has been re-joined.
Tomorrow shall be time enough
to return this special gift
MELANCHOLIA
Had he left putting me
in reverie of melancholia?
Rather I left him
and since then peace had left me forever
while I am whirling in rue of turbulent tornedo.
Wearing charcoal mask appearing dusty dusk.
Pricking pain of buried passion piercing my mind.
In morose fading twilight
birds are chirruping in glissando.
I am sinking in fathomless abyss in grief of ocean,
Where pearl of dolor is taking shape
from tears of amour
oozing from chasm of broken heart
cascading opulent on inflow of ambedo.
I am drowning down on cosmic illusion
in this lugubrious night.
I am floating to descry:
My love once lively lovely like Full Moon
now lamenting in lean crescendo.
11/04/20
Second Place
'Ambedo' Contest by Silent One
I am the rook afar-
of soot and grating voice formed
to your reflection in my distant eye;
and yet-
I am not so black as I appear
from wings outstretched
I soar and observe,
watching life pass me below
the land beneath doesn't seem so threatening from on high
but should my wings break,
my spirit crushed, my feathers plucked
I would fall to earth in silence
spiralling in descent,
and you would see
My feathers are shot through with the most beautiful purple and blue
Melancholia
Sometimes my soul aches, in the morning light
Dappled as it arrives through the curtains
My dad says it’s a beautiful day and, indeed,
I perceive it as beautiful..trees, people
But something cold runs through my blue veins
As I inspect my wrists to make sure they’re mine
I find my eyes unsure of where to settle
Glazed over like a foggy mirror
Seeing but not seeing
I ask them not to take my picture,
For behind my eyes water sloshes around
As if in a glass, threatening to pour over
Choking out words for people, all alive in conversation
I feel I am peeking in at their world, mute
As it rolls by in laughter and togetherness
As the sun comes up and falls away again
I walk down the road that has become a desert
And I keep walking, watching, waiting
For the next mirage that I can try to hold onto
~For Craig Cornish’s Contest “Anatomy of Melancholy”
MELANCHOLIA PICTURED
Deep
waters
whirl in a
melancholy
pool
the
eyes show
subjection,
&
a
resigned
acceptance-
yet beauty shines
through.
Duel Ekphrasis -inspired by both
the Whirlpool by Isaac Lentan
&Head (portrait) by Watteau
Like a tree with a broken limb
This broken branch begins to bend,
Like the splitting hairs caught in a comb
I sensed the void on my own
I look and seek deep in my soul
In hopes to find something to console
Dull and deep is its shaded abyss
For there is nothing in its mist
But dust and spirits, of the disappearing
For I am the one that has become weary.
The void I walk is very deep
Who knew these hills could be so steep.
However, I am who is broken
Yet, everyone wants a token.
Thinking they have givin me something
When in turn they have provided nothing.
I feel the pain of my psychosis,
For my mind has become atrocious.
The nullness and the empty space,
I knew would win the race
But there is nothing more
For I have become
Null &Void
Your soul is hanging on the wall
Your laugh is shining in the hall
I can feel you on my own
In this painting you have drawn
I see your doubts in its heart
I hear you question me apart :
« Is this green well chosen ? »
Darling, without you I’m frozen…
I kiss the image as if your head
Was smiling but instead
The touch of your suicide
Is slowly burning me inside.
Why not flee and be melancholic ?
Perhaps because an alcoholic
Couldn’t relive our story and love
With a guardian angel above…
March, 11th 2021
I remember Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Malabika Ray Choudhury
See beyond mere sense, look
The steep way forfeits book
Bubbles in mystic bath
Sense leaking waters rough
Fault finds moves that fumble
In dying distant dangle
Slide upon the slippery
We all fall down easy
Lost souls I remembered
Dying bruised and battered
Leon Enriquez
20 March 2016
Singapore