Best Orphaned Poems
I.
I
My,my
ego's cry-
neglected,long lost
family..duties..left to die,
fixated on symptoms society still wonders why !
Categories:
orphaned, people, philosophy, political, social
Form:
Fibonacci
She
Felt some
Emotion
Because she had been
Left orphaned, at age five
Her father died from rabies
Leaving five children alone
To fend for themselves,'til on their own
Categories:
orphaned, childhood,
Form:
Nonet
============================
gentle Wind, as evening gathers,
gathers up the orphaned Leaves,
leaves some tucked in between the Rocks...
rocks some to sleep beneath the Trees...
============================
Categories:
orphaned, good night, rain, storm,
Form:
Rhyme
Wind, as her final rainstorm gathers,
gathers up the orphaned leaves
Leaves some tucked in between the rocks,
rocks some to sleep beneath the trees
Trees, moved so by her (rain and all)
all bow and though not known to cry,
cry now, while silvered leaves of fall
fall as they watch their Zephyr die
Categories:
orphaned, cry, death, death of
Form:
Rhyme
A heavy sigh and vacant staring
through a glass walled cell.
Electric purple owls with golden eyes
loom about, transfixed and silent.
No going back.
Bloody rays of a setting sun
clash with a violet stream, teeming -
granting abundance to over-burdened fruit trees.
A glass of water, please.
The bi-polar moon looms heavy
wiping the smiles from forgotten sunflowers
and so many zombies shuffle around.
Hypnotized crypt-crawlers
gawk at a green sign, “EXIT.”
The smell is unmistakable,
but it doesn’t mask the desperation.
Synthetic vanilla, sterile.
The glass walls will hold.
It’s a strange, involuntary psychosis
sitting idle, as a plastic fan grumbles away
hour upon hour, under scrupling yellow eyes.
There's a shortage of Ativan and Vitamin H.
Another glass of water, please.
A yellow pup tent is pitched in ivory sand
and a purple-planked, rag-a-tag dock
is tied to the sea by a red canoe.
The campfire matches the moon,
but all is cast inexplicably blue.
Fevered dreams and sweaty palms
press firmly on the temples from either side.
Maybe a few more dollars
will shatter the glass walls,
or buy the proper paperwork.
Someone is humming a pop song
a few decades old, or so...
It isn’t the same without the guitar solo.
But still, what a lovely glowing green.
“EXIT”
There’s no going back,
not from this involuntary psychosis…
glass walls hold back the owls,
for the right price.
10/25/16
Categories:
orphaned, corruption, crazy, fear, psychological,
Form:
Free verse
A
guitar
without strings
--
Inspired by Brian Strand's
Perfect 6 Poetry Contest.
Categories:
orphaned, childhood, family, life
Form:
Epigram
Half-Orphaned - A letter to a son from a father in heaven
Dear Son,
Sorry!
to leave you half-orphaned
to abandon you with my death
Sorry!
for not picking you from school
for missing out on your football matches
Sorry!
to dump you and your mother with a financial crisis
to have you to see your mother cry every day
Sorry!
for not wearing a helmet that day
for not fighting back from death
Your Baba from Heaven!
Categories:
orphaned, death, father son, forgiveness,
Form:
Free verse
I've wrote that I died with you. I warbled sonnets about our mutual loss and pain.
Now I try to find a pinpoint on the day of resurrection, of when my breath retook.
No, this sorrow never fades; the grief is always here, but slowly like a cataract
time grows and fills the eyes with a dull impressions of a life.
I remember weeping at loss, pain, grief. Begging light to chase the darkness.
I don't remember the first rays of sunshine, the mourning not quite done.
Today I think I have a rhythm, that's supposed to be me, but the edges of definite
are gray and smudged like a horizon of rain where the suns supposed to be.
My memories are like that of the storm, bold in the lightening of a moment
yet fluffed and fading in the darkness of the storming grief. For what is me?
Do we come to a single point where we are an exclamation of our past?
Does our history define us? Our blood and bonds design our personalities?
I have no history. Not that I can name. My childhood memories overshadowed
by that the single bolt of horror, grief like aftershocks that crumpled my psyche.
Who can give me details of our life before your death? No ones left to speak.
Who but you can tell me about my infancy, or adolescent schemes?
In grief I wrote I died with you, dramatic at its best. But here I find I might truly have,
for I'll never find that fledgling flight. Who will tell me what the pictures mean?
All you left for me is lost, but those fuzzy infant memories. Truly orphaned
there is no past to see. Who will tell me of your legacies?
I have nothing left of you but me, who will speak of you to me?
Categories:
orphaned, death, depression, motherme, grief,
Form:
Elegy
Sought by the Lord to nestle in His grace
My soul now finds belongingness serene
Secured around warmth of divine embrace
Orphaned no more against abandoned scene.
Midst God’s compassion assuring my heart
I rejoice to receive pardon divine
Settling me from sins by mercy’s rampart
As confession prevails over pride-whine.
Grateful to the Father’s adoption seal
Making me blessed heir through trust earnest
My blissful spirit worships in truth zeal
While serving with faith of triumphant zest.
My life I offer in running life’s race
Sought by the Lord to nestle in His grace*.
*Psalm 84:11 For the LORD God is a sun and shield: the LORD will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.
May 23, 2022
Edited on December 6, 2022
10th place, "Thought rested awareness" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 12/11/2022.
Categories:
orphaned, blessing, christian, faith, god,
Form:
Sonnet
Orphaned Slab
by Odin Roark
They call me a foundation
once supporting siding and stone
wire
plumbing
shingles
Through the doors of my house
trailed family and friends
across kitchen floor
slanted slightly
letting Benny’s agate marbles
migrate to the corner
Atop my shoulders
a house of character once stood
usual middle class floor plan
even allowing spidery webs
their solace in pantry corners
squirrels their roof
foraging to cottonwood trees
shading the three second-story bedrooms
kept perfect for home visits
from children away at college
Downstairs
Everett’s TV room rocker
always moving back and forth
massaged my back
well
it was a mild massage through the flooring
mostly my imagination
coming as it did
through layered rugs and cat hair
Yeah
used to hear mother’s complaints
“That old vacuum is useless. We need a Kirby, damn it”
He’d usually stop his rocking for a second or two
then let her know “Just lean in more. All it needs.”
and back to his rocking “Kirby. Out of her mind.”
But
Come spring break
Sara’s boombox
was rocking of another kind
no imagination needed there
reminded me how secure
this old foundation was
until the afternoon when…
Felt like a distant train
but the clackety-clack of rail cars
was out of sync
out of control
Wind moved in
then rain
then wind and rain
then that God-awful train again
had to be from Hell
or someplace worse
thundering through…
It was a long night
Been a long couple of weeks
Weeds and spider webs now connect
through cracks in my body
A squirrel or two survived
peeking about once in a while
still clinging to their downed cottonwood
wishing the foraging path was still there
wishing there was something to forage
Me?
Well
I’m just a surviving foundation
awaiting tomorrow’s sunrise
hoping for just the right temperature
early in the morning
before the sun adds its bleaching effect
and I start to remember again
Perhaps I’ll have earned
some afternoon showers
some nourishment for the weeds
some droplet sparkles
for my spidery friend’s web
and who knows…
We’re regretful of so much loss
the other slabs and me
but a foundation is a foundation
that’s what we’re built for
The start-ups
The start-overs
Orphan today
adopted tomorrow
So goes the life of a slab
A life some might say
is a thankless existence
Not so
Categories:
orphaned, space, storm,
Form:
Free verse
Orphaned Pebbles
by Odin Roark
Atop so many ebbs and tides
Have I ridden
Beneath the roil and tumble
Have I survived
Now at last
A fling of wave and wind
Rests me among found safety
A pebble blanket
High upon the shores
At the foot of your magnificence
How very long ago it seems
Your mountain spire
A shudder
A quaking shift
My security split open
The severed shards
The razor chips
Cascading into the sea
We were all lost
Flung from your fortressed castle
Destined to drift
And tumble
In watered darkness
But you…
After your fathoms-deep eruption
Did heal
Ocean did soothe
Sunlight did transform
Devastation into vegetation
Your island survived
Your knife-edged spirit
In spite of severed shoulders and face
Became a frozen echo of resilience
Your ancient imagination made beautiful its scarring
Its many cave-like eyes held firm the watch
Your beard of tangled vines continued its reach far below
Across a rotund belly of scree and sand
How peaceful this inlet shore
Where briny caresses have protected
And made available your pebbled orphans
Who returned
So…
Here we are
Waiting patiently the next adventurous child
Looking to select
Gather
Sort
And cherish one of your surviving kin
As the sun dries my polished continuance
I wonder if the journey will find new transport
To window pane
Cigar box
Perhaps an aquarium
Placed among other friends of the deep
Though…
I’m hoping to become
A pocket buddy
That’s the best
Don’t you think?
To be a warm companion
To a boy like the one hovering over me now
He’s leaning down…
Categories:
orphaned, uplifting,
Form:
Free verse
Part man part creature this spirit, fallen, from her skies..
Nineteen fifty-nine an expedition discovering His child floating
Gallantly down Love's reinish river ? Wrapped in a cloth of many colours
Black pearl eyes gazing past her wickers wedge; by and by beloved, their baby....
Mixed metaphors prodigical doors; chromosomes xxyz ? Part man part creature; Spirits.
Categories:
orphaned, baby,
Form:
The subconscious mind exists behind thought,
where reality's not always real.
Imbued with skills imagination wrought,
it ventures beyond reason to reveal
innate impulses thought cannot conceal.
Curiosity ponders what could be;
contemplating all the what-ifs and maybes.
And sleep creates an actuality,
whereas there is no cancer, no scabies,
no wars, no dying, no starving babies.
Orphaned wishes, tethered to dying dreams,
can only come true if I adopt one.
But fantasy is less subtle, it seems,
like Rumpelstiltskin's gold, straw hopes get spun
into tall stories that outshine the sun.
As dreams set the stage, the actor in me
plays roles from court jester to Lancelot.
There, I'm invulnerable and carefree;
slicing my way through life's Gordian knot;
I steal its awe, and yet, never get caught.
Categories:
orphaned, 10th grade, dream, fantasy,
Form:
Quintain (English)
We said goodbye
the night we met
fate our child
to bear
Star crossed love
in orphaned time
betrothed stillborn
—affair
(Dreamsleep: May, 2023)
Categories:
orphaned, lost love, time,
Form:
Rhyme
There was a wee orphaned lad named Kerplunk
Poor kid wore clothes to school that always stunk
The principal despaired
Asked, 'Kerplunk, don't you care?'
Said Plunk: 'What if your new parents were skunks?'
Categories:
orphaned, clothes, school, silly,
Form:
Limerick