Best Morbidly Poems
I walked beyond the ease of youth,
and refused the prosperity
given to an ignorant mind.
Over years you revealed the truth;
every heart morbidly aligned,
leaves nothing seen with clarity,
lapses into vulgarity.
Utter disgust seeps out of me,
spiritually I now see.
Convicted a past void and dead,
carved sand dunes of Indian red.
The one way back, God's call will sing
a new impassioned coloring,
it will always cost everything.
In every season of a loss,
get back up to lean on The Cross.
Written in the books of Heaven,
three hidden measures of leaven.
Belief begins to underwrite
the end of sorrows — have to trust,
to endure and finish the fight,
hanging onto your word, I must.
Categories:
morbidly, bible, christian, faith, god,
Form:
Rhyme
I hear the October winds whispering and I think it knows,
as the witching hour arrives and a harvest moon glows,
only once a year, do we celebrate death on Halloween night,
it is a time for remembrance, and not a time for fright.
As dead leaves come to life, once more, somehow they know,
on the twisted claw-like branches, I see the excitement grow,
black bats take their flight and wise owls call out to you,
it seems strange, but I imagine that they all know, too.
I ask you now, my dearly departed ancestors, to arise,
come and dance with me, there is no need for disguise,
on this one dark, Halloween night, it is the only time,
when we can feel truly alive and so morbidly sublime.
Let me wipe away the ancient moss from your tombstone,
come forth with dust and decay, your shroud and bone,
feel the warm glow from this carved out jack o' lantern,
and watch his lit, grinning soul, may it flicker and burn.
You must still remember the candy corn's sweet flavor,
and those crisp apples, with juicy bite after bite to savor,
it is only on this night when we can taste this rare treat,
and it is only on this Halloween night when we can meet.
Tonight will not be your usual haunting among the graves,
or beneath the dead willow tree, weeping, shackled like slaves,
you are free to wander, to celebrate, and honor our past,
until the morning sun rises, on this Eve that will not last.
So come with me now and our spirits will live once more,
as we roam down our old streets, and visit door to door,
let us go, and lead them all in our mysterious nighttime parade,
where we can finally be ourselves, no need for a masquerade.
Categories:
morbidly, celebration, death, family, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
I am very pleased to present a third collaboration with Robert Lindley,
an extraordinary poet who inspires and humbles me with his pen.
A Collaboration With Robert Lindley
27th October 2018
The root of the melancholy
he has not always known,
and perhaps, with strangers
and with unknown strangeness,
he has embraced its love
and loved its hateful wounds.
He prides the strength resting his bones,
the iron-glove that wields power grasped
in his haste to taste its honeyed glow,
anticipation seeds ever greater destruction
as horrific night dreams eat into oblivion.
The root of the melancholy
she has occasionally known,
and surely, among bitter foe
and boon companions lost,
she has lurched painfully from it
and pained herself yet more.
Blind to the curse, she begs for more
sharpening blades to spew the red,
eager for battle yet fearful the result
she prays dark gods lend power, not gold,
as dawn awaits its inevitable relief.
The wounds of devils not false
but gods surely true
persist within the marrow
of abject, seething, mortal slaves,
and morbidly caress and torment,
and the leaves are bitter as the root.
For in realms of dark - thirst so consumes
that even the chaff born from regret,
this the black seeds do replenish;
ever deeper moans from heartache and woes
resounding echoes from piercing stabs.
The hex is feverish as its birth.
Categories:
morbidly, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
QUOTE:
“The moon is a loyal companion.
It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast,
knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever
just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself.
Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light.
The moon understands what it means to be human.
Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.”
? Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Walk I, Naked Under Pallid New Moons
I that crieth with dawn's falling dew
Accuser of this dark world and its hate
Walk I, naked under pallid new moons
With lingering hunger, nothing can sate
As warrior, as a lover now stone-blind
A dying soul, bleeding with ink and pen
Dreams, myself in imaginative realms
Away from this world full of darkest sin
This heart and soul, each crying out for more
And knowing Time will soon end this decay
A ship never finding a safe harbor
A ghost of dead dreams, now morbidly gray
Pay heed, if thy soul seeketh Love's pure kiss....
For tis' Light and Truth that bringeth sweet bliss....
Robert J. Lindley, 1-15-2020
Sonnet, ( As Whispering Wind Swirls About, To Speak )
( A pen allowed to such deep truth sing )
Note:
Hold tight the moments that life gives
the ecstasy of remembrances of sweet romance
for day comes in which more in past one lives
the more one sees that most of life is long-lost chance....
Categories:
morbidly, art, deep, destiny, life,
Form:
Sonnet
On an unsinkable ship’s maiden voyage, it sinks.
A pastor who preaches against alcohol, drinks.
One’s surrounded by people, yet remains all alone.
Confessing sins to a priest, those sins are atoned?
A nation’s chief tax czar, who cheats on his taxes?
An animal lover who hunts deer, to relax.
Sing praise and kill humans, in the name of a God?
Destroying our enemies, lasting peace we applaud?
The lifeguard fears water, so remains on dry land.
American foot...ball, is played with the hands.
A high school track coach, who's morbidly obese.
The steakhouse that's owned, by a vegan!
The priest preaching sermons on love, is a pedophile.
Repeat charity builds dependence, over time.
Nations war against drugs, and market alcohol?
DNA tests confirm, Hitler’s Grandfather was Jewish!
Categories:
morbidly, humor, irony, sad, drug,
Form:
Ballade
a diabolical grace ...
dark, deep, warm-black arms of
an endless night wrap me ...
head thrown back in abdication -
arms spread wide in surrender,
falling backward, back, back, onto a
hard dogwood blackness ...
nails of my own stark weakness
fasten my hands to a
weighty tree of terrifying introspection ...
poison saturates my blood,
courses with its curses through the
very vessel my soul inhabits ...
dictates to me by the minutes the
movements of my muscles,
states of my vapid organs, thus ...
responses and emotions, true,
like the visceral, mighty hand of some
morbidly jealous god, squeezing
the true and the good from every last
cell of my being - the strength
and health built by a lifetime of good
habit and task, torn asunder
by a guileful beast - a duplicitous, faceless
monster that I invited in from
wintertide like some pitiful, starving fawn ...
oh, it IS pitiful in its treachery,
and it starves - oh yes, it starves ...
with a hunger for souls and
lives and accomplishments and truth,
and it eats them ALL with a
lust unending, and a ravenous fury,
laughing at you with a Cheshire
grin, your own warm, crimson blood on
its shining, chiseled teeth ...
and while you tremble in horror at
its stark visage, while you
stare transfixed into lifeless black eyes,
the face changes, the abomination
transforms into a beauty so pure and
compelling, that your only
thought and desire and compulsion,
is to drink it in with a kiss as
deep as the Universe itself .. to pour
yourself into it with every
passion and emotion you can scrape
from the ice-flaked walls of
your conscience, to merge with it, join it
in all abandon and care and
affliction, and give yourself whole to the
dim, shadowy vehemence
complete, while the deafening roar of your
own screams and scratchings,
plays a somber requiem, final - a sickly
sweet song ...
of obliteration.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Brainstorm" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
morbidly, abuse, addiction, analogy, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
continued from Pt 1
With my name underneath!/ I said "Who is keith?"/ She looked over her shoulder,/
The room got colder,/ When she harshly whispered "you!"/ That's when she rose from her
seat, and with her feet started using Kung-Fu./ Like she was a Kangaroo!/ She beat me
black and blue./ Then I heard her scream "That's for taking advantage of my virtue!/
When I finally came too, I was moist with dew./ I felt sick and prayed it was not swine
flu!/ I found a Doctor nearby./ He was also a Rabbi./ I had a lot of ails including pinkeye./
He cured me and took me into the "matrix" like on Sci-Fi./ He then taught me the ways of
the samurai!/ I was now ready, for with one hand I could catch a housefly!/ I adjusted my
necktie, and told the Rabbi goodbye./ I began my next journey under the blue sky./ Off
after that whore I must rectify!/
Note: for Constance La France contest "A Magical Journey" - If I offended anyone with this
piece I apologize It was written only to be morbidly humourous.....
NOTE: Had to alter for contest because of size. This is the actual way it ends. Jimmy
Categories:
morbidly, depression, funnyme, me,
Form:
Free verse
What is blackmail catering to one's
own soul capturing fear in a mason jar
watching the panting the empty air
dissolving the beautiful wings extorting
the brilliant hue manifested overtime
clinging to the boundaries of lusting
to simply breathe shattering hope
craving the harsh warning signs
the taking of every saved memory
stored so cleverly an yet balance
restores itself all else left dangling
surrounded by torn heart strings
pounding fret as per diem enters the
solid structure of surety awaiting the call
of sheer tangible wrath the wild eyes
the vacant stare pockets are being ripped
at the seams leaving only soiled lent
as a trading post to be equally shared
in a group setting adjusting the mere
solace for peace an eager tantrum arouses
malice and mangled sanity opening
the door to find your intruder coughing
up threats that he himself was forced
to swallow upon leaving ransomware notes
unapologetically relieved yet morbidly removed
Categories:
morbidly, beautiful, corruption, emotions, international,
Form:
Carpe Diem
We stood atop God's hill
among God's hills
and saw no mountains
where mountains are not seen,
but gazed hatefully, fearfully, longingly
into Satan's valley.
Ours was the grandest little hill,
and below was the wickedest valley,
and between was the contest of angels dark and fair
where the living is not easy
and the dying is not quick.
At once we knew both
all that there was to be known
and nothing that could be known.
Once born, twice seduced, yet more,
we dared to peer sideways and downward
and morbidly at the edge of the plague.
And weary, or indifferent,
some were claimed,
vanished into the core of the depraved,
where the dying is not easy
for the killing is not quick.
The warring curses were one.
6th July 2018
Categories:
morbidly, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
About Lucey, a Ragdoll Cat: Saved from Death
Lucey was my feline dream!
I had never seen such love from a cat's eyes
~ so heavenly stream.
No, I did not find her at a shelter!
She was at the Vet's scheduled for death,
And in dire need of a loving helper.
There she was locked in a cage waiting for
the terminal needle.
Her owner had passed and asked Lucey die,
to be put down too, which I thought that request
was horribly and morbidly feeble.
With my auburn long hair, I knelt down to
this queen, whispering softly,
"Mommy is here!"
Her front paws reached out from the cage,
grabbed my neck, oh, my she was so bubbly!
I had to make my case, as a lawyer does to
spare her client the death penalty!
But to make this poem come to its conclusion,
the Vet did set Lucey free.
She was the only cat I ever had, who just
loved to lie in bed with me!
And purposely watch the raindrops rolling down
the window together!
She was the essence of heaven for me.
I was able to carry her around the house
in my arms.
She'd wrap her paws about my grateful
neck, her body so fluffy and full...total
charm, so warm in my arms!
God took her home quite suddenly, it rent
my heart in two!
All I have left is memories and an astounding
photo, now in words, in this poem, too!
And yes, Lucey! Wherever you are in
God's celestial, eternal universe....
I am fiercely loving and eternallly
grateful for every moment ~
I was so richly blessed, to share with you.
Panagiota Romios
5/4/2019
11pm PST
Categories:
morbidly, art, beautiful, love,
Form:
Couplet
Feverish The Hex
The root of the melancholy
he has not always known,
and perhaps, with strangers
and with unknown strangeness,
he has embraced its love
and loved its hateful wounds.
He prides the strength resting his bones,
the iron-glove that wields power grasped
in his haste to taste its honeyed glow,
anticipation seeds ever greater destruction
as horrific night dreams eat into oblivion.
The root of the melancholy
she has occasionally known,
and surely, among bitter foe
and boon companions lost,
she has lurched painfully from it
and pained herself yet more.
Blind to the curse, she begs for more
sharpening blades to spew the red,
eager for battle yet fearful the result
she prays dark gods lend power, not gold,
as dawn awaits its inevitable relief.
The wounds of devils not false
but gods surely true
persist within the marrow
of abject, seething, mortal slaves,
and morbidly caress and torment,
and the leaves are bitter as the root.
For in realms of dark - thirst so consumes
that even the chaff born from regret,
this the black seeds do replenish;
ever deeper moans from heartache and woes
resounding echoes from piercing stabs.
The hex is feverish as its birth.
A collaboration, Robert J. Lindley and Lawrence Sharp
Free verse, 10-27-2018
Note- My dear friend , it is such a great honor to compose with you this our third free verse collaboration. Each time you astound me with the immense creativity, depths, and exquisite beauty of your verses.
Categories:
morbidly, art, creation, dark, evil,
Form:
Free verse
Gave Shark catnip and he turned into a hippie
Took me straight back to the seventies
Put on his fur vest and fringed headband
Made the peace sign with his paws
Became morbidly mellow
Docile, chilled, rolled onto his back
Soaked up the sun with his tongue hanging out
A happy addict
Categories:
morbidly, cat,
Form:
Free verse
She made a sanctuary for synonyms.
Kept them safely sequestered away.
Had to spank pail and pale yesterday, she told me.
I was surprised, but not morbidly so. She is strict.
I had to chase when and win around the block.
I had to make flu and flew eat their vegetables.
I had to straighten out to and too but not two.
I was getting tired of these phone calls.
However, I have to admit, she is keeping masks on them.
And so far none of them have caught the Covid-19.
But I do wish she would release a few of them
For I need to use wail and whale in my next poem.
Categories:
morbidly, word play, words,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Ebola
August in twenty fourteen
A sign of death upon the screen
West Africa - Liberia,
Sierra Leone - now Nigeria
A swathe of death - a swift nasty one
Sweeps through these lands killing one by one
Who knows where this invisible curse
Will strike or if it will get worse
(EVD) - Ebola virus disease
Ravaged through these 4 countries
And soon it spread and people died
Like flies in houses and at the roadside
Alerts are bounding around the world
As the death count starts to unfurl
These modern times - digital age
Everyone can see the news presage
Up to date. NOW we see
Morbidly watching the catastrophe
As countries declare States of Emergency
Life goes on for millions and me
Before I even set out for Nigeria
There were stories of this Ebola
“Another black death, the modern plague,”
Mentioned in words without being vague
Before we all roll over or throw up our hands
Crying “God’s wrath threatens our lands”
Remember this thing’s been around before
In ’76 it first came to the fore
What it is and what the end result
Is for us all to prevent tumult
Personal cleanliness, care, hygiene
Can kill this silent killer unseen
We cannot encase ourselves in glass
Or stop walking in cities or on fields of grass
Life must go on - these things be fought
And not roll over and let it take its course.
So yes, we should all be alarmed
But let ourselves be duly armed
Observe and listen to what should be done
And we can stay safe – almost everyone.
Categories:
morbidly, africa, confusion, faith, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
Inner self renowned free; owned only by me in the thicket of the woods which is ticket to the
goods. Lovely dew drop, tear drop worries obliterated by the sun. Rings true that I don't
know what I've won but myself-- tiny, big, larger than life- Not! Famous to none; infamous to
one-- maybe! That old tree that never moves but to stalemate then check. Mark it off-- I'm
done! Approval, Approval, Approval! Stamp me authentically me. Nature calls no one as we
call it often. Rings true, I believe. Natural self looks like Apollo and Daphne in the minds eye
of keen perception. Distorted fragments of soapstone in my artist's mind recalls and carves
and older self. Rewind now, back to babyhood; not yet out of the woods of my sheltered life.
Sheltered life, comfortable; Sheltered strife, uncomfortable; Shelters galore, displaced
woman. Never to become morbidly serious about reality-- I'm an Aspen now in a darkened
mood detached adhered to my silverish, thirtyish leaves, leaving one silver-gray split hair on
the memory of the past which is still not true to self-- now in present life is hopeful and not
reproachful!
Categories:
morbidly, healthself, me, self,
Form:
Free verse