Best Plaintively Poems
Beyond an overgrowth of weeds, I see
a house with faded paint. It beckons me.
Victorian, its windows are like eyes
that hypnotize, and soon I find myself
there at its door. I tentatively knock.
Though knowing nobody will come to it,
to my surprise, I turn the door knob and
just walk into this strange but lovely house.
I look around at antique furniture
grown dingy. Cobwebs decorate the walls.
A sudden slam! I run back to the door.
It won’t come open. Panic floods my soul.
I go to every window. They won’t budge.
It’s like they’ve been sealed shut from standing still
through many years of never being used.
I shiver; from the corner of my eye,
I see a figure. Shadowy, it flits
across the dining room. I follow it
while swallowing my terror, and I go
into a small room, where the shadow crept.
Surrounding me are paintings on the wall.
I can’t take them all in, for there is one
that seems to call to me! How can that be?
It’s quiet there, and yet my mind is filled
with someone’s voice. It pleads to be released.
The voice is in the painting! I am led
so weirdly to its spot upon the wall.
I get right up to it and feel a chill.
An evil presence has me in its clutch.
I know this when I see the painting’s scene. . .
Fresh horror like I’ve never known before
now grips my throat and I can’t even scream.
Inside the painting is a woman who
looks eerily like me! She stands inside
a room with many paintings, and behind
her is a hooded being. Is she me?
I dare not look behind me. . . yet I do.
The hooded figure stands behind me too!
A scream at last escapes my lips, and I’m
inside the painting now and looking out!
I’m looking out onto the tiny room
with all its paintings. I am caught inside
the confines of a frame; I’m miniature!
I know the hooded beast has captured me.
I see his shadow leave the room and know
the door to this big house he has unlocked!
Another fool will enter as did I.
They’ll get locked in and then led to this room
to that one picture where I will await
to cry out plaintively to be released. . .
(Sorry this is so long; I had to do it this way to tell the story how it formed in my mind.)
Aug. 22, 2018
Sponsor- Dear Heart
Contest- The Haunted House
In Blank verse, which is unrhymed Iambic pentameter
Categories:
plaintively, scary,
Form:
Blank verse
I reckon the empty nest syndrome hits all at one time or another,
When youngsters flee the nest leaving dear old Dad and Mother!
This morning on the patio I witnessed this situation at its best,
When two baby wrens took flight and left their parent's cozy nest!
Mr. and Mrs. Wren set up housekeeping in a birdhouse I had made.
They soon became the proud parents of a couple of eggs she laid!
I watched them flit to and fro as they filled the ever-empty maws,
Of their little darlings from grub carried in their over-flowing craws!
Once the kids had spread their wings to experience the thrill of flight,
Mother Wren would sit on the birdhouse porch to contemplate her plight!
She'd plaintively chirp as if to say, "You ingrates left sans saying goodbye!
You've left me and your Pa in this lonely nest to mope about and cry!"
It wasn't long until Mr. Wren was in a romantic mood with his spouse.
When he tried to nuzzle up to Mrs. Wren, she'd scurry inside the house,
As if to say, "No way, buster! I've had it! Cool it until next spring!
Perhaps when the cherry blossoms bloom again we'll have another fling!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
plaintively, funny, husband, wife
Form:
Rhyme
HARMONY 69
The night of twelfth December `69
knotted together an icy storm wind
that whipped False bay`s waves
to white -frilled blankets.
Thunderclaps against primal rocks
resonated through a ghettoe of glowing tents
on a dark, rough ,bushy patch .
Rising plaintively above the din
of drums and flapping canvas,
creole strains solicited the capricious gods
for a clement Cape .
Love songs , sweet like wine
would even tittilated mermaid`s melons,
stranding them breathless, with tails scaled.
In my sixteenth tempestuous year,
I was sickened and sullied, spoiling for a fight
with that ever- prying, ever-lying police-state
denying us
dividing us
deriding us
ripping us
whipping us
in an all-pervasive racist propaganda storm
Harmony,was forced ethnic relocation right there
in a stamp-size sea-resort next to a stinking dump.
Our yearly anticipated salty baptism,
fouled for a full ten years,
dunked in fascist soil
of a false bay with a real bite….
rubbing coarse salt in our opened wounds
Rubbing it in the flayed
William, my sire, of the black turf belly
Rubbing it in the lashed
Maxie , my ma , of white-on-black graft
Rubbing it in the spurred
Dot Adams, my oracle , of the pearled-truth tongue
imprisoned to a silent ninety-day solitary confinement. .
Yes, a full two hundred scar-studded waxes
avidly saluting the wretched who rose in revolution
drowning exploiters in the oppressed`s precious blood
Algeria whilst raped,unveiling herself,
firing fear into bared French fascism
exploding the myth of a benevolent colonialism.
“Lumumba will guide the Kongo to freedom”
grandpa agitated hopefully as revolutionary Patrice,
our dark prince of peace
died on the bloodied butts
of neo-colonial carbines.
My seven-year heart burst
in anger and pain.
A companiable heart`s balance
tilted with unease at justice , unhinged.
the periodic uprisings of people in far-flung regions
against the arrogance of anglo-saxon imperialism
salted my youth with the tears of broken children,
their blood ever spattering my angry brow.
Categories:
plaintively, history, inspirational, love,
Form:
Epic
The weary Shepherd of a benighted flock
has been cast into outer darkness;
languishing in a purgatory
of his own making.
And those flock of sheep are now
running amok, plaintively bleating "baa! baa!"
into the abyss. Trying but failing to regroup;
chin-stroking about who they're now supposed to be
Oh, what to do! They can't seem to figure out
what to do with themselves anymore, pathetically
desperate enough to go down the primrose path of
self-destruction with the false prophet that once LED them.
Now they're crestfallen about the glory they once knew.
Instead of throwing off the yoke of servitude,
they've chosen to come under it, like old times.
Exhibit A: of the whole bunch, the most dyed-in-the-wool
sheep made a trip to Florida, headed down
his old Shepherd's abode, genuflecting before him;
on his hands and knees, pleading
to be led, like old times.
*example for contest*
Date written: 01/30/2021
Categories:
plaintively, allusion, people, perspective, satire,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Things will be great in two weeks
Foretold, ordained, and promised by my Gaia's wisdom.
With this ring, I her wed
Betrothed, bewitched, smitten and bitten
I plaintively appeal
And foreswearing poor science I lean on intuition's incalculable import
And offer this corpus indelecti as a sacrifice
On the altar of her breast.
Categories:
plaintively, absence,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Darkness in the world suffocates and prevails
I retrieve plaintively The Canterbury’s Tales
Begin my own pilgrimage to the land of kings and knights
When there were other meanings to the word heights
To the time of true chivalry not outrageous impudence
To the time of faith, nobility and reticence
To the time when audacity was more than just a software
To the time when allegiance wasn’t a singular affair
Knights of the Round Table heralded their pledge and prowess
To their fellow men, they bestowed justice and largess
Well, such were the tales of true homage and humanity
Before the human race was destroyed by the caltrops of vanity
Along the path of my journey, I became aware of one truth
It’s our own Renaissance that should be sought by our youth…
Categories:
plaintively, life, loss, people, satire,
Form:
Couplet
The winter winds moan among those forlorn monuments to death,
Marking the spots where brave men fell gasping their last breath.
Upon bleak Calhoun Hill where Seventh Cavalrymen gave their all,
Now lie 225 souls in hallowed graves awaiting Gabriel's call!
The battlefield that once echoed with the screams of dying men,
And the war cry of the Ogala, Sioux, Miniconjou and Cheyenne,
Now teems with the restless spirits of troopers and Indian braves,
Listlessly roving about the Little Big Horn, the gullies and the graves!
On that Sabbath day in June the piercing bullets, lance and arrows flew.
Avenging braves pounced upon hapless victims as they counted coup!
As the sun settles in the west, heard are bugles and phantom steeds are seen.
The moon rises and casts its mellow glow o'er that cold and eerie scene.
Captain Keogh's horse Comanche, the sole survivor, though badly bruised,
Can be heard plaintively neighing for its master, alone and confused.
The curses and cries of men are heard above the clash of tomahawk and steel.
The battle played again and again on that tragic stage seems so surreal!
Yellow Hair Custer, dashing yet impetuous, had made his final stand.
Not a soldier survived the carnage since the Indians held the upper hand!
It seems that these restless souls are ever searching in an endless quest,
Perhaps seeking a fallen comrade or, yes, for well-deserved eternal rest!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
plaintively, war, men,
Form:
Rhyme
“Help me, Papa,” little Jose so plaintively said
As Deb placed his little body next to mine in bed,
He was so sick, and I had done everything I could
The vet had said he was coming down to the end
Both Deb and I couldn’t bear to do what we should.
“Papa, I don’t want to go. Cuddle with me, please.”
I hugged him ever so gently, brought up my knees
In his distress he could still show such warm affection
He licked my face and peered at me with sad eyes
He understood my words by my comforting inflection.
“Papa, please do something. I feel so awfully bad.”
So, Deb and I decided it was time to do what we had.
We wrapped him in blankets, off to the vet we went
“Papa, don’t be sad,” he gave a gentle sigh, “It’s best.”
But we could hardly bare to participate in his last event.
“Papa, it’s all right. I know you always do the right thing.”
I held him to my chest, while Deb began to softly sing.
The vet petted him on his little head and said, “It’s time.”
Both Deb and I sobbed, our heart was broken for Jose,
But we knew he’d wait for us at the Rainbow Bridge sublime.
[Jose, our little chihuahua, joined Deb at the Rainbow Bridge on November 20, 2018. "Papa will be here soon," he tells her.]
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written June 1, 2022
Submitted to "Personification - Pets Talking" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Categories:
plaintively, death of a friend,
Form:
Personification
Along the water's edge, the grey waves
Break noisily in a white foam spray,
Curling carefully like well-permed hair.
Driftwood carried on to the shingle
Envelops the wind-blown plastic and
Frames torn pictures from worn magazines.
Gifts such as these on the rising tide,
Heaps and tangles of modern life,
Invade the left-lying debris, the
Jumbled remains of day-trippers.
Kindred souls and urban litter louts
Leave the evidence of their presence,
Making the beach dirty and desolate.
No one finds beauty among such dross;
Only the screaming seagulls come to
Pick through the scattered waste but leave
Quite aggrieved and wailing plaintively.
Returning to the rooftops, they wait
Statue-like for the home-coming boats,
To scoop up fish spilling from the nets.
Unsullied shingle emerges as the
Vast armies of tourists disappear.
Winter's tidal surges help the
Xenophobic beach to purge itself.
Year end renewal refreshes the
Zest for life along the water's edge.
Categories:
plaintively, beach, sea, winter,
Form:
ABC
Thee Apple Hove Bing an Herbivore...?
(hint – app peal)
Sans maintaining a strict carb on diet
(for Peat Sake) iz like really coal
man, cuz carnivores consume meat,
which genetically modified organisms
engender incredible non edible size foal,
these agribusiness farmed animals shot up
with synthetic hormones
spurring heightened development
accidentally, inadvertently, and unleashing
King Kong monstrous outrageous gnoll,
whereat each footfall taken
by scary creature resembling
a humanoid hyena
results in said frankenfood digging,
one after another humungous hole
resulting in dirt pile
cresting, kickstarting, and
rivaling a mini
spring mount tin knoll
necessitating massive
manhunt to cap cha
lurching, pounding, and thudding
beast whereat entire
motley crue all harkened
from places named Lowell,
nonetheless heil lee calf full
to arm themselves with more'n one
tranquilized tipped pole
anachronistic cautionary expedition generating
masterfully baiting monster
with immense gritty buttered roll,
whose gargantuan ramp
aging spree across
world wide web
found endangered population
tuff lee from their
picturesque enclave i.e. Floss
on the Mill as zee unbridled
quasi jabberwocky took a selfie gloss
silly attired (trumpeting
"FAKE" ska don face mask)
likening pulling up moss
as coiffed "hair...hm..." all the while
gabbling, instagramming,
snapchatting, and toss
sing fearsome Frankenstein
with especial bent toward
those sharing surname Voss
in tandem to flagrant
disregard to paradigm
housing hefty prime
statutes of grammatically
correct syntactical rhetoric, plus rhyme
ming showcasing a novel
discovered talent to enrich pantheon
until the end of time.
since times of auld
where linkedin note able people
(some long haired others bald)
plaintively, suddenly, and called
urgently to be importantly installed
to brainstorm figuring a solution
to vanquish, nightmarish,
and hellish abominable madness!
Categories:
plaintively, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Sun spurting senselessly.
Pull pulleying plaintively.
Really ridiculous roundhouse rhymes,
Each eating enough of its environs.
And don't get me started on the in-laws.
Dine ahh near the shore, dizzying mental roadblocks,
Ignite the immanence of the instant!
Never nullify the negations, the now and then.
Go for the gold, you beautiful bastard.
Here we are under shade.
Are you more or less happy then before?
People love to let it go and take a break.
In this there is peace.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Categories:
plaintively, happiness,
Form:
Acrostic
Israel Beckoned...In A Dream
This secular skeptic beheld,
eyes hallucinated, harried, felled
and haunted by
holographic images gelled
that didst silently scream herald
ding exhaustively
roaming, schlepping, meld
ding and trudging across
elapsed, nor quelled
blinkered, bloodied dead souls
across fractured wartorn veld,
where bludgeoned ghastly
eons of pain did weld
throbbing inside my
scepter templed mount, aye
vicariously experienced
cumulative historical grief
past to present anti
semitism I decry
incomprehensible genocide, (though
not necessarily exclusive domain
of Moses troopers), nonetheless I
find mine existence
ably linkedin sigh
lent lee to the
bosom of Abraham,
no matter such
quasi confession doth fly
in the face, despite devout atheism,
a genealogical kinship inherently
peppers the genetic
mind of this
questioning (authority type) guy,
whose lack of
religion cannot dispel
no matter fuzzy, gauzy,
hazy, et cetera,
asper the existence
of heaven or hell,
and no idea what
will become of
Matthew Scott Harris, when bell
doth toll mine death knell
though methinks, i.e. this fell
low will merely decompose
forever oblivious to
global pell mell,
whose corporeal essence will spell
reincarnation relegating molecular
composition of this aging
ordinary physical being
whose existence particularly,
poignantly, and plaintively
punctuated with delicately
framed psychological housing
twilight years echoing
punitive hardship just barely shaking
free, whence adolescent
aborted suicidal effort
near cleft flickr ring,
anorexia almost got life
extinguished, gut wrenching
yank key undergo wing
life and death struggle rattling
the long gone souls
figurative rusted empty cages,
whose legacy aching Diaspora, ages
ago scattered tribes, especially sages
Exodus to Babylonian Captivity,
(c. 12th to 6th centuries BC),
proud unknown forebears rages
against contemporary
Hebrews existential wages
of experienced unfair recent gauges
(recording heinous twentieth century)
opprobrious persecution quashing
valuable vital and voluminous
absent contribution Jews
never written pages
forever hidebound historical legacy
unfairly demonized ever since pre
Biblical epoch anonymous stages.
Categories:
plaintively, body, dream, heaven, jewish,
Form:
Free verse
Ramblin' Bob Dylan Blues
(For Bob Dylan)
Why does the sun dry up so many scattered tears
slipping down the coarse cheek of a million hushed fears
where no one is scalded though the searing fog clears
while prayers are mutely spoken even as the end nears
We shatter and scrape on demented knees
Blindly begging for mercy as it silently flees
Searching listlessly for salvation drowned in the breeze
That spits at the soft rose suffocated by a wheeze
I know now what I need never have known
Of hope that was trampled before it had flown
Into a wasted sky filled with hate that could drown
The giggling of the crowd and the crying of the clown
A hope so fragile that its wings were of brittle glass
Ripping the veneer off the sewers of class
Twisting the fabric of the weighed and costed mass
Who numbly waited hoping that it too may pass
For when shards of that hope in all hearts scurries away
To a darkness where crowded night is emptied off the heaving tray
'Tis then when sewn eyes shall behold that doleful day
When all shall tear at each other while on demented knees we still shall pray
For a lifting of the veil of that wilful deceit
That's wrapped up in a flag swollen with conceit
While the limbs splinter in the claw of a winner's defeat
Yet still the drums roll for the ill-fated souls chose never to retreat
From that drenched battle-ground where blood flows through a sieve
And love's lost song plaintively begs for a reprieve
From eternal loss which into raw emotion does cleave
Only to slip through the fingers and like grains of sand, leave.
Categories:
plaintively, angst, confusion, dedication, depression,
Form:
fast as a blitzen comet,
this dashing prancer
contra dancer
(i.e. Rudolph nary hoof) didst zip
with cupid ditty toward his vixen wife,
who loosed a suppressed yip
asper one discovering remains of the day
from the donner
(newt the majority) party whip
ping her olive drab camouflage attire,
as if she hapt to be a vip
endlessly congratulating herself
(and bow wowing her ego) bing awarded
the housekeeping seal of approval,
and expected me to tip
her gore gee us Martha Stewart déclassé
snoop doggy dog rendition
as she did slip
agilely (with broom and dustpan in hand) rip
peat head lee uttering
an apropos Mary Poppins quip
booting muck can clear across to Compton
(wherever that might be) pip
pin like a cat on a hot tin roof,
where no cure existed to nip
in the bud at this stage,
and rid thine beloved Narberth bride,
who caught a bout clean destine
feverish frenzy to make house beautiful,
oblivious to beseeching despair,
sans this husband who cried
plaintively imploring divine intervention,
lest extreme heroic measures
need be taken, thus guide
me asap before her blistered hands
rubbed red as tender (vittles) raw hide,
which could find her catatonic, doggone
ill eagle lee flying a boot
like a bat out of hell, and stupefied
hence, this urgent message typed out in a huff
for less severe invasive
experimental treatment truly tried
on this, that, or some other missus so and so
.....please pardon this abrupt end,
plus initial idea wide
lee differing from my initial intent won
during how to write an elegy to mister son
describing, how aye felt enervated with run
hills of beaming solar rays, oh how none
synthetic drug to bathe,
enhance, suffuse away mon
day moody blues,
and now...gotta tend tummy hun!
Categories:
plaintively, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
In silence of the middle of August
The bell rings plaintively.
It cries about a dream not seen.
But the red, setting sun has poured bright light around,
and birds sing joyfully about love, about spring.
Grasses dance to the kisses of a breeze,
And flowers smile.
Only the sad, gentle music is audible-
The bell cries plaintively
about dreams that did not come.
Categories:
plaintively, song-
Form:
Lyric