Best Pathos Poems
Nobody observes her leaving her room
wearing just her nightdress and red felt carpet slippers
Shuffling silently she slips out of the front door onto the street
Rivulets of rain start to soak her to the skin
Her straggly hair hangs down limply
It becomes so matted and twisted
Soon it looks like writhing snakes are alive on her skull
Her once pretty face is now lined and wrinkled
Rain drips off the crevices and onto her sagging breasts
Wandering off into the night she begins searching
Walking the empty streets with her arms outstretched
Searching, searching, desperately searching
Eventually she reaches the children’s playground
Sitting on a swing she rocks backwards and forwards
The rhythmic movement seems to calm her down
Tears form in her eyes and mingle with the raindrops
Strong arms hold her and she is powerless to resist
She hears voices telling her she must return home
‘We knew you’d eventually find your way here Maisie
It’s time to return to the sanatorium …
In future we will make sure the door alarm is activated’
10~19~15
N/A in previous contest
Submitted to screwed XI
Sponsored by Rob Carmack
Sponsor Nathan D
Title amended and submitted to ''P'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest sponsored by Constance La France
(this is a sonnet kyrielle, which uses line 1 and 4
of the first stanza in a final couplet)
To want to look away. . . And yet to look!
To read with dread the ending of a book.
A paradox it is; a mystery.
How sweet the pathos of a tragedy!
Fair Juliet awakes and knows true woe;
She cannot live without her Romeo.
Not every plot can finish happily.
How sweet the pathos of a tragedy.
To feel another’s pain, we learn control.
Catharsis helps keep evil from the soul!
We should not need to always laugh with glee.
How sweet the pathos of a tragedy.
To want to look away. . . And yet to look!
How sweet the pathos of a tragedy.
10/1/2010
Submitted Sept. 24, 2021
For the '''P'' Contest, New or Old' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Two Freaks
Two freaks sat by the side of the road.
Ostracized by all their kin.
People laughed as they passed by;
At the very sight of them.
One was twisted in body and soul;
With hair like a dandelion.
The other sat quoting sonnets of old;
He was quite diseased of mind.
One had hands that were crooked and gnarled.
The other the face of a child.
One ate grass like the beast that he was;
and murmured and groaned and growled.
The other put violets in his hair;
And swore to be good and kind.
To Pray to God and remember those;
Society left behind.
He quoted Longfellow, Shakespeare too,
Matthew, Luke and Paul.
The other wallowed in the mud.
And didn't care at all.
And so they lived by the side of the road;
With so much valor and poise.
One fool making love to life.
The other making noise.
Then came a day when folks didn't laugh.
They came with ropes and guns.
And did what seems and awful thing,
But a thing that had to be done.
For in this weird, unhappy world;
It is a sin to sing.
They murdered the gentle poet,
And crowned the Monster king.
so brief flowering
sakura* will bloom again-
covering the pain
*cherry
tribute haiku for Debbie's contest
These tears work well their Machiavellian craft.
They blur my vision, clog my nostrils
like a vice, constrict my voice and finally
confound my countenance,
debauch my dignity,
I'll have no more of them!
This faithless wash is ended
with a firmer grasp upon a solid staff
of reason, my defense
when sentiment and tenderness assail
the fortress of my heart.
In all the years remaining
shall I then create a fortitude
contemptuous of fears, and no regret?
Will I ever understand again
the meaning of humanity.
the truth implicit in the arts?
And, will I never see the stars at noon,
or capture in my chest that rush
of aching splendor that a smiling child imparts?
And with my intellect, and on my cheek, I know.
~
Chameleon, this tongue.
Coloring words to convey
emotion's spectrum.
I find no solace living in the past
Nor want to dwell for their companion's need
As most will drift away until the last
Except for those I want I'll intercede
Chronicles have chosen a path to guide
And not to place a shrine on passing ground
Nor shine a lamp on failures rarefied
But give form and substance to wisdom found
I need my back to always face the east
So my searching eyes can find the fullest day
Memory filled pages I read the least
They're only there to explain not to sway
To hold a painful moment ever close
To never free the past evokes pathos
5/12/17
You PATHOS,
That fill our hearts and our souls with
The tempestuous desire to
Live in full every moment
By:
Expressing each of our thoughts,
Developing every one of our ideas
And
Performing all of our acts with
The intensity that divinity has
Intended us to,
We pray to you,
Never to stop fueling our spirit
With
God’s everlasting flame of love
For
Only in this way, we might be able,
His holy Will, in a humble way,
To serve!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
15 March 2016
A wooden flute,
I glimpsed among my mother’s treasured keepsakes,
Often Wondered.....
Why it seemed the most precious than everything else she cherished!
A pathos lurking underneath the saddest smile, she told me...
The flute was the only thing she had of her brother,
who, in their childhood, played music when she sang,
He passed away from tuberculosis, in his twenties ..
the two efflorescent roses on the same branch…
one fell and perished, when it could have blossomed and
charmed the earth with its fragrance!
The other one clung to the tiny piece of memory he left..
A Symphony Of Love!
FIRST PLACE
Edited " Last Sigh" on September 24, 2021
For "P" Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
In Teapa he now makes his home
After his journey from the states
Trouble caused his heart to roam
And sorrows filled his plate
One friend asked him about the gun
And what he planned to do that night
He said he’d do what must be done
And anger blurred his sight
He shot her down and did not care
The gun still in his hand
His woman said that she had dared
To love another man
Someone asked where he would go
Where he would run or stay
He simply said I do not know
And headed down Mexico way
People staring from a distance
Some just mumble and turn away
And he can tell in just one instance
What they mean and what they say
So when I see him on the street
I shake his hand so he will know
He has a friend and when we meet
I simply say “Hey Joe”
I make a mockery of the chasm
I exult in my sarcastic enthusiasm
The space between us causes
A sweet reunion amidst the pauses
I feel a vicarious, carnal avidity
Awakening within me a certain lucidity,
An impetus to slake my yearning
To adorn my heart with your returning
Though I know that after I ignite
I will thus extinguish my appetite
I seek such concupiscent opulence
For this room's two occupants
Though I know this oasis is transitory
It's still such a silken and sumptuous story
easier than seems
getting lost within our dreams
is this what it means
to exist on this planet
bit more conscious than granite
the fear of being
where there's no guaranteeing
things we're believing
like the gods in the heavens
evil is caused by devils
amid the chaos
hold tight what is dear to most
entertain old ghosts
quickly choosing not to see
all that is or soon will be
completely reject
our universal connect
base human concept
fabricate different course
deny coming from the source
bound to each other
'til being pulled asunder
by the next number
just cosmic dust in the sky
we exist until we die
children of the stars
sometimes forget what we are
have evolved this far
unthinking spin through cosmos
truth turning into pathos
PATHOS
Every time I have to do something for you,
an overwhelming sadness envelopes me.
It’s been eight months since you passed,
I still have not shed a tear, there is none.
I did most of the things needed in arranging
your memorial service; but could not do a tribute
for you for I don’t really know you very well.
Two of my siblings out of seven children did.
We decided not do anything after the memorial
services, except lunch with all your children,
most of your grandchildren and some of your
great grandchildren because of the pandemic.
We agreed on getting together to celebrate your
life two days after your birthday in November
and we are inviting our relatives and your friends.
Again, I got the invitations going for the event.
We planned on giving presentations and I have to
read a couple of poems or say something about you.
Reading the poems is easy for I just have to choose
what poems I have to read; talking about you is hard.
All I can think of is the strangeness between us, the
deafening silence when I visited you, the immense
feeling of being an outsider, your total indifference.
If I could not write a tribute then, how can I now?
There are no words I could think of, it is all blankness
for remembering you evokes sadness and heartache.
9/25/21 "P"Contest, New Or Old Poetry
Constance La France
Theme #1
Life a beautiful woven tapestry
Silken threads running through a brocade
Day in and day out we sweat and toil
To the rhythm of the day
The painter with his brush strokes strives
To bring meaning out of the canvas
Different colours he tries to mix and match
Till the poster comes to life
Times of sorrow, times of joy
All allotted to us
Time for living, time for dying
Set aside by the clock
The maker views life from a prism
Seeing the different colours caused by refraction
Sits back and watches in satisfaction
The game of creation unfolding before his eyes
Poetic Form :: IMAYO
Ethos
Ethos is a means of convincing someone of
the credibleness, probity of persuader.
It's an appeal to ethics, serves to highlight the
persuader's reputation ethical state.
~X~X~X~
Pathos
Pathos is an appeal to the emotions of
the audience and to elicit feelings that
already reside in them. It's an artistic
representation for evoking compassion.
~X~X~X~
Logos
Logos is an appeal to logic and reason;
It is way of influencing an audience
by the principle of reason and the judgement
connected with motivation to do something.
~X~X~X~