Best Meloncholy Poems


Premium Member Jesse Jackson - Kosovo Mission

JESSE JACKSON - KOSOVO MISSION
         Belgrade, 1999
They thought to the west 
and the homes they all knew
in a meloncholy dark and blue,
these three of a kind on a mission of peace,
these three knights willing to die for you.

America's best
they had dreams of their own,
but now held in a land and alone
where everything is hate and loose in a world
that beats with a heart of stone.

A man from the south;
of their home now unreal,
like a dream time can never steal;
who had hope still alive that love conquers all,
and a love he'll always feel.

His sword was his word,
and he spoke them so well;
they tolled like a liberty bell
Jesse Jackson was truth and light from us all
and the three are now home from hell.
© Vee Bdosa  Create an image from this poem.

Joust Meloncholy

Such a grand memory I set aside,
Passing time in the French bucolic countryside
Passing lazy days away
Sipping sweet, sweet wine.

Lifting spirits, jousting melancholic ways
Experience expunging naivete
The Louvre, or the opera
Blessing a bravura shrine
Seeking serenity, here and now,
I long to stay, this place mine
© Amy Green  Create an image from this poem.

Kindred Spirit

A winged figure flies alone.Searching for the one he calls his own.Softly whispering to the 
girl of his dreams,sitting there on the rock by the stream…


 


 …She looks into the crystal depths,where past ,present,and future is kept.In her mind 
memories drift in and out.She listens now to someone else’s shouts…


 


 …A winged figure stands alone,watching his love in a pain of her own…


 


 …The pain of seeing and knowing.The years of heartache are showing.The lines etched in 
her face are deep,and her violet eyes are troubles keep…


 


 …But the fire burns within her still.It gives her hope and strengthens her will…


 


 …She prefers to be alone these days,secluded in her forest maze.The visions aren’t so bad 
out here.The silence helps to keep her mind clear.
But there is one thing she doesn’t understand.Why the visions don’t come with the strange 
meloncholy man?A striking figure who moves with grace,always a sad smile upon his face.
He visits her sometimes at night.Then disappears as if he took flight.But she doesn’t question 
where he’s from.She tends to feel lighter when he comes.
A little of the burden is lifted.He says she’s not cursed but gifted.He seems to feel her pain as 
if it were his own.A kindred spirit,maybe,perhaps she’s not alone.


A Smile

Sometimes smileing is the hardest 
thing to do
Knowing what I know, seeing what 
they do

Sometimes I think my smiling is the 
thing that makes things worse
It"s hard hard to think my smiling is 
the cause of my curse

Sometimes I think by divine design
My best plans are twarted
My hopes and dreams would just 
unwind
If something was what I wanted

If I could give my smile away
Joy would be disburst
My smile would try to fill the day
With the happiness it rehursed
 
My smile wants to smile
But instead tears they burst
Tears that come unwillingly
But from a natural birth

Tears that tell the secret
Tears that reviel the fears
Tears of untold sorrows
Tears from all the years

A million and one things
Could be hidden with a smile
Is a smile worth giving
With heart breaking all the while

Who would suspect the smile
The master of deceit
Smiles they go unquestioned
They make the deal compleat

But this day a day I did not choose
A day for my soul to sorrow
Today my smile I will not use
But save it for tommarow

A smile unabused a little less used
Ready for the world
But while this meloncholy stays
My smile will go unfurled

Woman of Valor

Woman of Valor Original
        


Oh sweet voluptuous queen 
So many night of making love 
to thee
Invited the uninvited angels to 
weep
Upon your golden breast

You are like a lamp of passion
Your beauty goes deeper than 
deep
You are like a friendly morning 
bird that  sings
With vicious, joyous meloncholy
This is my kiss to your bright 
cheek
Cherish it!
In this Folly!

Premium Member Amid Falling Leaves

Amid falling leaves, I stand motionless
trying to understand their falling off;
is it agony of going into oblivion
or joy of freedom from a bondage.

But whatever it is, I feel amazed
at this repetitive magic of nature;
at the start of cycle of renewal
in physical and metaphysical sense.

Why do leaves change their colour
dazzling the entire environment;
and adorning bright crimson hues
before kissing dust to become dust?

Is it to reduce the meloncholy
of baring the trees of their loss;
or to celebetate a joy of freedom
in anticipation of oncoming spring.

Beyond a cold, grey winter
when new shoots will adorn the trees;
in green and other myriad hues
spreading the warm cheer again.

Whatever it may be, falling leaves 
inspire me to prepare for change;
from my current state of being
weather good or bad, I not know.

It will, sooner or laterdesert me 
and like falling leaves ask me;
to brace up to face cold winds
and persevere, in hope of a colorful spring. 

This continual change will go on
for ever, till eternity, I guess;
the whistling breeze merrily helping
leaves to fall off as an agent of change.

Leaves believe they shall be replaced
by fresh young ones next season;
they let go and enjoy their freedom
celeberating their fall dancing with wind.

Yet they cannot help leaving behind
a sombre mood for those still attached;
signalling them to prepare for the inevitable 
when their turn arrives, to depart.


The Poet's Song

A poem is a song that our souls need to sing
Written to the music our emotions bring
The meloncholy tune that our spirit dreads
Cause the words to sing that's inside our heads

Through the poet's quill a poem finds its voice
His paper made a stage for it doesn't have a choice
The poet, just an instrument for the songs to play
His muse writes the words, telling the poet what to say

The poet finds the rhythm through the beat of his heart
While doing his best to perfect his art
The letters all audition while the music is made
Praying to be the star when the song is played

As the meloncholy tune starts to slowly die
The poet knows the ending is now drawing nigh
He lays down his quill that he's held so long
The poet's finally finished with his poet's song
© Larry Belt  Create an image from this poem.

Hello I'M Robert Johnson

Robert
Timid, bold, foolish, and wise.
Brother of four sister's and two guys.
Lover of music,honesty and great buys.
Who's meloncholy, reflective and glad.
Who fears he doesn't know what to fear.
Who'd like to see Jesus one day.
Resident of Albert Lea, MN
Johnson

Long On Waiting

Happiness, I am long on waiting...
it is all I have left to do as 
a paper bird slowly unfolds;
in ink are words that free a
songs fluted throat of heart.

Or a cloud's passing into
a meloncholy cup of rain,
with the weight of thunder
breaking free it's sleeping
and transient persuasions. 

Did you not see me there,
dressed in aspiration...
breathing in each and every
breath that beheld my being
in anticipation of your arrival,

My bantum desires expelled
and reduced to a beggar's 
hopes of treasured freedom,
I am naked without you, one
single raindrop released.

One lightning bolt, one feather
away from torment I, beneath 
the canopy of your absence,
waiting...the thin soil at my feet
feeding my fear of loneliness.



(March 21 2016)
© J. Tudor  Create an image from this poem.

Meloncholy Mind

I Sigh Through The Mist Of Today,
This Being Knows No Strength,
I Whisper To the Ghost
That Is Me,
Like Some Dream
I Just Can't Make Contact.

I Believe I Hunger,
But Like Most I Succumb To The......

Broken Sunrise

I woke up this morning and the mountains were high
Time to die again in the morning sunrise that never lies
I dont know the Girl I am today; purging memories of the heart
The cold autumn night connecting her lips to the warmth of emancipations departure

Redemption lies at sea so we sail under the rainbow sky
Revolutionaries making decrees for the privelidged to set aside
So I buried my dysphoria where my hands still felt the loss
Somehown I could still rise high through the ashes of battles waged and lost

Give me a short reprieve from the way you seem to look at me
Memories of abusive seas crashing into tides of apologies
Believing the notion that your ocean that wont let me disappear 
Finding a safety net for my high-wire act to hold my weighted tears of fear

If you want to hold my hand and venture into the land of the dead
I’ll seek your loving shelter in the coming storm that waits ahead
I’ll keep singing my last song in a place where grey skies hum along
So cast away those dark eyes where meloncholy lies belong

Cause you brought the shine and I brought the sun
Where angels and demons waged battles; never won
When I walk alone; its with hopes and dreams that your hand is true
And ashes will fall on stolen hearts that pave the ways to make it through
© Laura Dee  Create an image from this poem.

Untying the Knot In My Stomach Will Take Much More Than Guts

I’m looking for the world,
 
But the world isn't looking for me.
 
I thought I had the answers, sitting by a tree.
 
Like Newton did when the apple came suddenly.
 
Everything to me is just a big meloncholy.
 
I wish I could make myself feel something else.
 
But instead I just feel like ice that will melt.
 
Nothing in my life makes any sense what so ever.
 
I go about life as if I were actually clever.
 
Nobody cares to listen, whatever.
 
My words are pointless, and you never cared for better.
 
I have created a trap in my conscious, stitched like leather.
 
It's permanent and I feel like I can't change my stormy weather.
 
 
I have learned to deal with the reality that was given.
 
But I refuse to let go of my story, how unfitting.
 
I am not surprised that I am failing so miserably.
 
I almost had it all, yes, almost in synchrony. 
 
One piece at a time, like parts of a Christmas tree.
 
Decorating my life, ever so slowly.
 
As I see myself in the mirror, so lonely.
 
I put on a smile and say "forget you, Jeromy."
 
I was given every opportunity to advance.
 
But God didn't save me so the Devil took his chance.
 
And won.

It's You

THERE LAYS A LONG AND PLAIN ROAD
NOONE KNOWS WHERE IT BOARD
THE SUNRAYS LAID AS A SLIT
CROSSING THE FENCE MY FOOT TOUCHED IT
TIME DOESN’T FIND A PLACE IN MY TRAVEL
MY HEART FELT LIKE I WAS OUT OF HELL
IT’S SPRING TIME AS THE LEAVES FLEE
THE DAUGHTERS OF TREES ARE AT GLEE
THE CUCKOO MADE A MELONCHOLY
WHICH I ENJOYED MYSELF SILENTLY

THERE COMES THE ROAD’S DIVISION
FOR MY MIND TO TAKE A DECISION
THE RIGHT TAKES ME TO LIVE MY PASSION
THE LEFT TAKES ME TO LIVE IN COMPULSION
THE LEFT GIVES MY LIFE A GUARENTEE-BUT
THE RIGHT GIVES MY SOUL A HAPPY TREAT
A GUARENTEED LIFE MAKES ME WEALTHY-BUT
A HAPPY SOUL LIFE MAKES ME HEALTHY
I’M TRUE TO CONSCIENCE BASICALY
AND MAKING UP MY MIND FINALY
I BELIVED MYSELF AND KEPT FAITH
WITH A STRONG HEART I TOOK RIGHT
IT CAME TO LIGHT NOT THE BURDEN
BUT A BEAUTIFULY SPREADED GARDEN
EVERY GRASS IN IT SAID TO ME
IT’S YOUR LIFE,YOU FEEL AND SEE
LISTEN TO YOUR HEART WHAT IT SAYS
BECAUSE IT’S YOU WHO WILL LIVE YOUR DAYS……

Drugs

Drugs

Falling together
falling apart
So close to heaven
we set to depart

Living the right way 
Keeping to the plan
Life is a  show
Baby, i truly know

No cash for our salvation
Inhaling tickets for vacation
Dripping desparation of our pores
We need another meloncholy score

She’s a crazy b**ch I know
But so am I; away we go
Lets leave this simple town tonight
Or maybe stay and waste the light

So we breathe together
We breathe apart
Two wrongs in the right way
She way too straight; i’m far too gay

One more idea; and its the best
Lets get real high and make a nest
This life of lies; these honest times
Lets take a smoke and write some lines
© Laura Dee  Create an image from this poem.

Sunrise

By Laura D
October 16, 2016

Staring at the sunrise above the city below
I search to find cause for the things that I know
The laughing, leering faces that line up at the door
The ones that told how to find love from before

Before innocense was lost and eyes lost their glow
Before I found myself, with nowhere to go
Determinated little lies through steel beams; a sunrise
Comprised of dated voices that speak freely and wise

Discarded, is the place where lonley souls embark
Too afraid to witness me; the way I scream at the dark
Its just a meloncholy place I daily lay to waste
The sunrise feeds the last of me; where everyday I find a taste
© Laura Dee  Create an image from this poem.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace