Best Shallow Poems
Shimmering silhouettes haunt.
Shadow stands still,
observing his soul drift towards
the tree of melancholy.
Its morbid image stands silent,
but screams inside the mind.
I could write a million pensive poems,
yet the pen could never express,
how emotions remain unexplained,
because suppressed silent theories
and words left unspoken mean
regretful raindrops fall to the
rhythm of each somber sigh.
Tears create shallow streams,
but still we remain submerged.
Eight years on and I wonder,
if we will stay here forever.
Simple Musing
Silent One
18 November 2018
~
falling the depths
of a lasting decision
I wade through the sea
where your charm leaves a wake
in the ripples of love
that I watch in the distance
from gently tossed stones
where the shallow dreams break
as I follow this stream
to the edge of the surface
I breathe in the hope
left alone on the shore
just to drown in the truth
that the shallow dreams offer
and swim to your arms
in the deep end once more
~
Love so shallow
I am, what I am, just a humble man
You are a star, seen only from afar
With furtive glances, I devised a plan
Your eyes told me, your love's door was ajar
I dipped my toes into love's shallow stream
Your heart opened wide as oceans so deep
Surprised, I dove into this hallowed dream
I thought destiny planned a love to keep
Slowly, but surely, love turned nonchalant
For you, love was, just a game of flirting
You were, ev'rything, I could ever want
My pure heart was left shattered and hurting
From now on, I will be an ascetic
Will your thoughts of me be sympathetic?
Contest sample
Why not give it a try?
Required words: Ascetic, Humble, Furtive, Nonchalant, Shallow
John Derek Hamilton
January 15,2018
Shallow Love is Like a Reverie
Shallow love is bubblegum when the flavor burst begins.
Chew too long - the sweetness will be gone.
Shallow love doesn’t want to chew that same old piece of gum
on and on and on and on and on.
Shallow love is a Hollywood happy-ending movie.
It doesn’t delve into life’s grime and grit.
Shallow love hates sub-plots. When there are complications,
show’s over! Shallow love is done with it!
Like a reverie is shallow love - a dilly-dally dream,
a happy-ending movie, bubblegum sweet!
Shallow love can’t find the beauty in what comes with reality.
With love profound, shallow love cannot compete.
A lovely trance of pure romance is shallow love’s reverie.
But soon you realize that it is fake.
Though it’s divine to be lost in its dream, everybody knows. . .
from reveries you always must awake!
April 25, 2019
For Lu Loo's Verses Of Metaphors 3- Rhyme Or Free Verse Only Poetry Contest
Men march forth
Like fodder falling in shallow graves
No one wins a war
No one counts graves
Lift your sword high and mighty
If you are not the undergrowth of the lost
Your victory is to return home
Your Duty however has drastically changed
Teach us, both young and old
Both rich and poor
The value of those lost souls
Buried in shallow graves
Inspired by a friend and his grandmother on Memorial Day
I hope the Grandmother gets to read this and see how small deeds make us all remember!
Thank you
From my Love’s mind I have read
teaching me to dread…
my death as little as my bed…
the true Precept bled…
that human concepts be fed.
Only of human mind is human dread…
surviving is my holy curiosity instead.
From my love’s mind I have read…
“Oh death where is thy sting”
doth not disturb holy sleep upon precept bed…
Selah!
Fascinated only by pathological manifestations
Of the subconscious mind
A peculiar mark of unfounded substance
A glaring light upon the hinterland
Perceived as negation
In which perception takes place
The implications of shallow existence
A recourse of ragged indecencies
That intricates the fallacy of life
With so much refuse and slag
In its labyrinth of cohesion
Beneath it all lies constant turmoil
That stands against all vicissitudes
Shallow beneath the skin of one whom robs dreams of another soul
For the one whom is chosen may take away the glow
underneath the skin lies a shallow giver of sins
the depth within lives a shallow existence fueled by fear
fear that another may out shine the shallow light
why does one even wish to fight.. so shallow
ignites the solace of awareness around and grasp the right of another, so shallow
Dwelling within a secret shallow prodigy
~ shallow as the grave itself
may all others be cast to the gallows
for the one seeking Fame
the one so Shallow..
Many a wealthy men seeking moral values, so shallow
incapable of receiving any love given except the reflection of self , so shallow.
How can anyone help the one so shallow
unless trading their own integrity for shallow acceptance
comes with a high price , associated with shallow ~
Playmates is all we
ever were and ever wanted.
To be friendly, frisky, rambunctious even.
Sometimes “ever” gets tricky seems
somewhere it got that way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Usually when I lie about the form, it's because it makes me laugh to do so... love you guys muchly! ~N
yea yes i went on Facebook
and caught my intention for a minute
of planes crazy or call it plain the pray
and so left you for a laugh of no avail
of shallow win a few candies
the bat flying here
but tomorrow see me
call it a rat or a cat
of your choice
and no mask but a full moon
with eiffel tower in the navy yard
yooo wooo for the bark
Shallow as a pond that you can see right through,
I know what to expect, its nothing new
People focus on the silly things, not what really matters
For if they saw what was really valuable,
Their inch deep world would shatter
They have no substance, they are paper thin
To be this way is quite a sin
To only see the outside, not what really counts
This way of viewing the world, will never in truth amount
He thought about her for many seconds
All those moments she never left his mind
He was surprised when she said she loved him
For him to love her he'd have to be blind
For Sara Kendrick's Contest
Shallow Graves 2
Written: By Tom Wright
2/20/2006
Our fondest memories lie in shallow graves,
Those unpleasant things we’ve interred deep.
To Satan’s excavation we’re oft made as slaves,
Preferring they’d remained in abysmal sleep.
His reminding voice whispering in our ears,
Rouses thoughts that so long have slumbered.
But Christ, has erased, all our guilt’s and fears,
So now to past deeds, we’re not encumbered.
I cannot, will not, do not suffer fools gladly
especially those dolts that are not capable of recognising or realising
the plummeting depths of their own unfathomable foolishness!
It is believed that charity should begin at home, or so they say,
But, damn, when your every nerve is stretched – elasticated, broken – fragmented;
how?
How can I?
The level of superficiality camouflaged as sincerity astounds, bemuses and, yet,
I am not surprised that there are those that are drawn to them as moths to a flame;
the utter blindness confuses me –
an internal eruption, a soul quake…
I refuse to conform to their archetype – their need for acceptance
does not justify painting veneers that crumble and diminish, deteriorate and fade;
my true self independent and dignified –
an explosion of colour, a kaleidoscope of possibilities…
I believe there is not only charity in our home but love too,
Where all are accepted – embraced, whether broken or not;
how?
Because we can!
I can, will, do take delight in real people gladly,
especially those splendiferous spirits capable of recognising, realising
the insurmountable depths of their own unfathomable foolishness!
Copyright Deon J.H. Burger 2017
In the Middle Ages
witchcraft was wide-spread;
young witches were buried
in shallow graves.
The angry bard was also a monk and defended the Church,
" No witches of any age will be roaming in Catholic Florence
and allowed to practise their magic by the glow of the torch! "
From the pulpit he made his voice rise and broke the silence.
He felt the presence of the other witches who gathered
outside the church; he trembled a little, but continued
his speech of condemnation that to them wasn't eloquent,
" Go to sleep and never rise again " was the loud chant.
All seemed peaceful on that Good Friday with the rain falling,
the bells of the basilica tolled to mourn the crucified Christ;
the altar was draped in purple, the glass windows were dark,
the parishioners waited, the bard never came to the mourning.
" Mourn the barn's death! Christ forgave all sinners, he did not!"
" He burned them at the stake not as criminals but as heretics!"
" We'll protest and revenge their death so inhuman and unjust!"
The witches' chant was louder than the lament of the believers.
Written on 5/31/2016