Best Moping Poems
A shadow of the sun
a silhouette created by a sunset
One more summer has came and went
and I'm sitting inbetween the hours of 8 and 9
miserable and lonely
Is it me
Is it me to get screwed over aimlessly
tied in a knot of pretty little bow
on top of a brand new shredder
Oh no, there's one of my strands caught
here I go into the cascade of oblivion
Is it me
Is it me to lay here, stuck in a timeless routine
I could predict every step of my life
name all the things I would do down to the key
the hours and times I would end and begin again to find a source of idiotic entertainment
Is it me, is it me
Why is this me
I could blame every inch of this city
I could blame every inch of this city
I could point all my fingers at this blistering heat
but it would just look like I'm bowing down in submission to the sun
but it would just look like there's something massively wrong with me
Is there something massively wrong with me
I just want to go back home
but I would just be the same wreck as I am now
I just want to go back home
but I'd still be me, moping in someone's elses grief
I'd still be me getting screwed over by more cunning minds
or just the less naive
As morbid as it seems
the days I live sometimes just makes me want to abruptly
shut my eyes and never open them again
the poetic mind I bear which never ceases these endless visions
these endless memories I'd rather forget
and never remember
I can't chuckle at the things that point the knife in back
and turns to where I can't run away, paralyzed
I have a fear of drowning
I've mentioned it before
I just want to buy an ocean
and float on my back
float on my back, sail to a distant island
or close my eyes and sink like a feather of lead...
These summer days aren't how these used to be
Funny the things that stick with you
like gum beneath the table
as the years go by.
My brains goes as far back as three solar circuits;
big bro put the Wonder bread in the microwave
(package and all) --- sparks went a'flying.
And poor Mother, what would she say,
when the whole house burnt away?
(corner time for sure)
And back then, turning the big "one oh"
was a big deal --- it's all the kids talked about.
Mother would make me PB&Js
(crust ON --- she weren't no fool)
And that little pat on the head used to make me giddy:
a reward for my maturity,
eating all the greens --- every bit.
But by thirteen I was quite done with it.
I'll make my own lunch, thank you very much
(sure you know that's a lie,
teens are notorious for their laziness)
But putting Dijon and turkey
between two slices of Dave's Killer Good Seed,
you think you got it made
with all of life figured out.
And speaking of "seed" ... what the hell?
Shouldn't I have my own runts by now,
running baby cheetah-like between my legs,
with a wifie to burn the toast on my way to work
(or is that just stereotypical nonsense?)
Perhaps by the time I'm thirty
being a spiritual loner like Paul won't be so bad;
spreading the good news when I can,
but I lack the humility:
a wheat by words,
a tare by actions.
And maybe I won't make it to my winter years.
But if that happens I won't waste one slice of forever
moping about time lost.
Rather I'll indulge in the True Wonder Bread
with the Man Upstairs -
without the fluff - but add the glow
and guaranteed to last eternity.
Literally.
PS: Not actually a new one, but something I wrote six-ish years ago.
I didn’t want to go on vacation
I would rather stay home with my friends
When does being treated like a baby
In this family come to an end!?
We went to a stupid hot beach
I don’t even know how to swim
I would rather be practicing basketball
Back home in the high school gym.
I sat moping on the beach all alone
As the sun was starting to set
We’d been here for all of three days
I wasn’t having any fun yet.
Then I noticed her walking by herself
Silhouetted against the red sky
Just on the edge of the water
I was speechless as she passed by.
I watched her walk down to the pier
Where she turned and started coming back
I went down to the edge of the water
Making sure I would be in her path.
I was aware of this beautiful creature
Walking ever closer to me
Her blond hair gently dancing
Inspired by the ocean breeze.
She looked up and smiled as she passed
Slowing down for me to say, “Hi”
An opportunity I couldn’t respond to
As I simply let her pass by.
All night I stayed awake dreaming
Of this angel I saw on the shore
Silently thinking and scheming
What I would do if I saw her once more.
Next day I was on the beach early
To give my destiny a shot
I sat there searching and burning
The sun was so very hot.
Just when I was about to give up
And mope on back to my bed
I heard a sweet voice saying,
“Boy are you turning red.”
I’ll spare you all of the detail
From my steamy summer of love
When on a golden ray of sunshine
My future wife was sent from above.
Fire of timing
Lyrics shining
Unveiling the mining
Emotions rhyming
Rap to the beat
Feel his heat
Given a seat
His door is opening
He's only hoping
Don't be moping
His color isn't taupe
Don't give him a rope
That's not his soap
Reborn a phoenix
Into his mix
Get your fix
He won't nix
Do you believe God will inject life into dry bones?
Believe it
You will feel a certain umc in your spirit
- the moment He puts it there
But don't go around hunting for it
Wishing it
He does it whatever He pleases
And when He pleases
You'd never know when He gives you something
I am not too sure if all of us get the same thing
Who knows?
Unless we compare notes, haha
But I always know when God is about to give me something
Because it's when I act out and become dissatisfied
Am I a rotten child?
I think I am
But I believe God will give you what He wants you to have
And there is nothing you can do
to make Him to give it to you
He will orchestrate the whole thing
Making you wanting something
Edgy, urging Him on
That is when you know that He is behind it
You can't cause it
It will just happen
There is no point of moping around wanting something
If He wants you to have something
You will know
His spirit will lead you there
You can't falter
You can't fail
If He wants you to have it
You will have it
So just go about doing your things
And let His spirit guide you
Love love love
Mucho kisses
Is that good Spanish?
I don't know
But I don't care
Mucho bueno
Muy bien
Not many see,
What it is to be free.
What it is to amount,
To make every day count.
Everything has a story,
Though the place your at you say is boring.
There's more behind this rundown town.
From the highest mountian,
To the streets unfound.
Where children once played,
And by their side their parents stayed.
Where the sky may not shine as bright,
But to every darkness there's light.
Where the creature's of the world find home,
While your complaining that the air's too cold.
When you're strong, it shows,
Planing each day as it goes.
Smiling and helping whoever you can,
Instead of moping about how much you hate this land.
You can't change the way the trees sway,
You can't change what's already gone away.
But the beauty of the world can take you in,
Make you see beauty like you should have when your life began.
When you start to appreciate the little things,
Like the crickets chirping,
And the songs birds sing.
You'll find all you needed has been there all along,
Only then you'll see where happiness comes from.
If to see is to believe,
Then there's belief all around.
From the starry night sky,
To the flowers on the ground.
So many find pleasure in all the wrong things,
Humanity has overcome,
Yet still falls apart at the seams.
We're so focused in on money and gold,
Before we know it our life has no meaning,
Our skin becomes cold.
It's never too late,
And you're never too near or far.
To make the best of things,
And be happy where you are.
I've felt this way countless times,
So confused and alone with no one to help.
For long hours I sat dejected,
Moping as if in solitary confinement.
I wallowed in the fog of depression,
Unable to see what stood before me.
All my relatives had disappeared,
Some to foreign lands, others dead and buried.
How could I break the spell
That leads towards a happier life?
O Lord what have you done to me?
That’s when I heard the toll of muffled bells,
A soft, happy though repetitive motive.
Happy memories of old melodies surfaced
From the dull corridors of my confused mind.
I dressed and like a zombie drove to the small chapel.
I wondered what I was doing there.
What could I do in an almost empty church?
I sat in an old pew and looked around.
A handful of women sat hunched down.
It was the end of service or whatever it was.
The woman filed out silently.
Except one, a young red-haired woman
Who sat stiff and looking nowhere.
Suddenly she left the chapel and hurried off.
I followed and saw her slip in the pathway.
She felt faint and somehow I got her to ER.
Strange she had no one to take care of her.
Two lonely souls in a smelly hospital.
I took her hand and vowed: I’ll take care of her myself.
Hey you sweet and frightened little girl
Lift up your eyes and look at me
I know, I know exactly how you do feel
I am you, you are me; and for this I shall tell you some words of secrecy
Pray, be not so downcast
The bad days do never last
Someday, what you do see as being hell, will be of the past
So pray, to pain and hurt and humiliation, do not cling on so fast
Worry not if nobody does ever see you
Someday your wonder worth shall come out
Then, everyone shall praise you
So please, rub off from your face, that scary pout
Life does not be so hard
Of course, you should be cautious,
You are after all, a being so precious
But mind you, life shall be for you, a glorious reward
Instead of focusing on trying to find love among those who do roam the Earth
Pray, build up your faith
Love does be of several forms
One of them does come from the divine realms
Someday, you shall come to know of what I do mean
Then, you shall regret for having wasted away your days
Then, you shall care not whether you are sixty or sixteen
For life does be not true, mind what the holy book says
Love rather, those who do be there for you
Love your family, your closed ones, those who do battle for you
Serve them, instead of always being angry
Reward them, instead of always moping around, feeling always so sorry
Mind not if you do dream too much
Someday, your dreams you will reach
Someday, to the world you shall teach
That dreams do come true, that the secret lies in knowing how to search!
Care a bit more about your studies
Care for them as to the future, they do hold the keys
I know you do realize not, for blinded you are in the false
I know, worn out you are, in trying to find your own voice!
But hey, listen, life shall be beautiful
Someday, it shall sing for you, a melody
Someday, it shall end, all dutiful
So please, care not to be so moody!
A fine fix we’re in
A real grumpy old grandpa
Children complaining
A house full of pure chaos
And none happy at this time
What will we do now
This year has come to an end
So very quickly
No one’s pleasantly moping
Everyone’s in displeasure
Just one Christmas wish
For a household of happiness
Joy for everyone
A wish of delightful laughs
Cozy warmth to each other
Just this simple wish
Is all I ask for this year
Not a possible task
For myself to do alone
I need Santa’s help for sure
After the blessing
I will offer what you will
A holiday toast
Thank you for your services
For granting my Christmas wish
Entrant into Michael J. Falotico's "A Christmas Wish In a Poem" contest
12/13/2012
What do we find funny
What makes us tickle
Laughter can come easy
But sometimes it's fickle
One person chuckles
Another just groans
Depends on your senses
If you giggle or moan
Some find humour
In most things they see
Depends on your outlook
That's surely the key
Go around moping
With chin on the ground
You sure won't be able
To wipe off that frown
You must laugh at life
And not take it serious
If you fret over things
You'll soon be delirious
So take this advice
From someone who knows
Be happy and jolly
Away with the woes
The world's just a stage
For your comedy routine
Just keep 'em laughing
And try keeping it clean!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Dark and Gloomy
The days went by
She lost her hope
All's she did was cry
Her mother was gone
She couldn't go on
Her life felt useless
There was no point
Then one day it came
The letter that made her forget her shame
Her and her mother had filled out the form
But now was the day she knew for sure if she'd be living in a dorm
She finally felt it again the happiness inside of her
She opened the letter
And there it was the answer to her life
And the hope she could never find.
Her acceptance to the college
It blew her mind
She thought of her mother
And how she'd be proud
She decided to go
And stop moping around
She grew up and had a good life
There was a new person
Made from dust.
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
Disconnected
I wish my child could write a poem and open his channels
I need my channels open too, because no one’s talking to me.
My loved ones and disliked ones whom have made their
transition, none of them will talk to me, they pay me no attention.
I need communication from the other side.
I got channels to open, no one’s talking to me...not even my child.
They gave my child a vaccination, which was so sadistic,
they knew this batch of
medicine could leave my child Autistic.
So, I called upon the ancestors to help
communicate.
My babies like a zombie, there's no light in his eyes;
They told me that he'd be just fine, but they were telling lies.
The side effects were harmful, more harmful than the cure,
I hate what I am thinking now, I know my thoughts impure.
My child is now a prisoner he is buried deep within
no wit, personality, or charm....
That dag-blasted vaccination has caused my baby harm!
I would love to hear the voice of my disconnected child.
I call upon my ancestors, but only the wind is blowing;
Sadly, I sit, moping all alone.
I call upon my forefathers/and mothers...
I got channels to open.
I try to hold my child; my hug is rejected;
I want to reach my baby-
But he is now Dis-connected!
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2010
The pain I feel inside
Can be derived from my dad pride
I sit alone at night
There is this emptiness that is
The squandering of time
pondering what life will be like
Who knew that twenty-one
Would be More bumps and lumps than fun
I want to dump this chump
Standing in front of the mirror
Waiting till its clearer
This Brings a sobering effect
Over thinking each step
It is like I'm playing freeze tag
With these mundane demons
And They always keep me in check
Because I cant see them
I have been contained and constrained
I complain of chest pains
Till my veins pop off like champagne
Bruce Banner's a freight train
Going insane in the membrane
So should I smoke weed then
To cope with this moping season
Cause my yoke is heavy
and dope seems dope for lots of reasons
Even though I do know
What the verse says in Ephesians
"Do not get drunk on wine...
Instead be filled with the spirit"
This is my one beacon
That's give me hope when I hear it
Its a choice for heathens
Like me, to write our own lyrics
Since death has been beaten
And no longer need to fear it
His love is infinite
THE DISAPPEARING ACT
Been a while since you left for Dubai
You said to me, ‘it’s not that mbali’
You would soon be right back
And my bags I could start to pack
Swing low, Sweet Cheruiyot!
I gave to you all my savings
Had to ignore all my pals ravings
You were off to make some money
Coming back to be my honey
Swing low, Sweet Cheruiyot!
Very soon will be baby’s birthing
I feel so anxious in this my bedding
Guys now starting to ask hard query
‘When’s he coming, this unseen daddy?’
Swing low, Sweet Cheruiyot!
Why haven’t you called, my dark Raven?
Take me away to that Arabian haven
Please come back to carry me home
Stop me moping like an empty dome.
Swing low, Sweet Cheruiyot.