Best Somber Poems
I am somber
like November days
and my words speak
weak, as if through tired tongue
I see the trees
stand naked
reaching their limbs
across the stream
as if touching
and comforting each other
from the bitter cold
that's settling in
sometimes I envy them
I want to stand naked
arch my back
reach towards hands
and feel the comfort
of more than I am allowed
and escape the bitterness
as it settles in
it doesn't seem fair
to question a day
or night that wears the same veil
as me, colorless
and silent in the breeze
as it whispers
through the trees
sometimes
I want to lean my ear
and eavesdrop on them
I want to peak beneath
the skies veil and see
the colors blend
to see the rain
less clear
through colored drops
fall upon a canvas
and paint a masterpiece
I want to feel my hands
finger a pen, without tingling
from bottled up emotions
to feel my soul inside me
not as if locked outside
looking in, as if a stranger
to my own life
not be the afterthought
or an emotion beyond words
of some poet's muse
I want to know the meaning
of this emptiness
I want to understand
why the tree is as naked
as my thoughts in winter
yet dressed heavy in the summer
and most beautiful in the fall
why does beauty fall
become grounded
and dance in November's wind
somber, like the day....
Somber is the color of the day...
Window glass distorts the view, of the dreary afternoon
Prisms of light cavorting outside, are reflected from the dew
and rainbows are splashed, from an old pewter lamp
as if to divert me of my mood
While quietly, I sit, and ponder it all, my pen is close, my chin in hand
Pinned back, my strands, a sweater, old, is pulled around the chill
woven in colors, of various yarns, as varied as thoughts that take me away
My mind is lost in a wakened dream
While trees are tossed about in winter wind,
and leaves lay dead beneath the snowy mounds
a fire glows, and a storm now keeps me bound
One shard of light from a neighbor's home
across the hill, a distant mile
The dimness in a room from winter sighs...
then something sparks a word ...a line, .. a verse, ... a lullaby ...
The day is sadder than the words I had found...
so somber is the day that keeps me bound
I hide away this moment....a cup of tea, a Golden Lab for company..
One peek beyond the distant hill, a touch of sun
A glimpse of mountain, pastures deep, my dog that sleeps...
A momentary chance to free my soul
In just a brief, but deep departure from the ordinary...
I explore my thoughts, search my heart, wonder what this day will bring...
I watched old memories, long kept cold, ...unfold as if a dream
Unsort, relive, those worlds untold....
Exploring new words, I now have found
Stumbling through my mind, unintended
Watching the words tumble as if unattended...
Unfolding, exploding, and falling in chaos
Paying no mind to the reader's conception
Cleansing, pleasing, as my soul fits the pieces...
Beneficial.... to the reader...will it matter? Who knows?...
But a satisfying journey traveled and found
by myself....and for myself, ....as the one who's creating...
Looking out from blurry windows...a dark day continues ...
on a somber colored day, that kept me bound.....
_________________________________________________________________
She fell from the light, into a world shadowed in gray.
~ by poet
An angel pouted to protest her punitive plight
No repentant redemption for her serious sins
Wings waylaid, the fatuous one was felled in flight
And from Heaven hurled; now banishment begins
Resentfully she roams in shadows of somber skies
An enraged expression marring her fractious face
A ranting rebel like the dastardly devil, father of lies
Dwelling in darkness due to her decadent disgrace
No earthly escape will she discover through death
Crows circle and caw, crying out in a clamoring voice
With crass words she crudely curses in banal breath
Wicked wrongdoer, condemned for her corrupt choice
With foolish folly she sorrowfully surrendered her soul
and delves within deep darkened depths for eternity
All alone, there will be no one to comfort and console
From shadows and suffering, she will never break free
She sulks upon sullen stygian shores of the river Styx
without a reprieve or relief from tormenting terror
There's no exit from her eternal eviction as time ticks
for Satan's spawn, shrouded in shame for her error
August 30, 2022
Alliteration Old or New Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Clouds had gathered, air was mild
We climbed steep rocks among the wild
There, hidden so high beneath the trees
Were two marked graves among the leaves
We climbed steep rocks among the wild
This lonely place so long forsaken
Were two marked graves, among the leaves
Ingraved were the names of those who died
This lonely place so long forsaken
Timeless heartache rekindles once more
Ingraved were the names of those who died
Awakening my grief, as tears fell
Timeless heartache rekindles once more
Who was this mother, who was this child?
Awakening my grief, as tears fell
Birds are singing with bitter cries
Who was this mother, who was this child?
Skies sprinkle the earth with memory
Birds are singing with bitter cries
Clouds had gathered air was mild
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Submitted for Jared's Pantoum Contest
A sudden darkness veiled the world below.
Luna was defused by a shadowed sky,
giving cause for Earth to be wrought with woe.
Something strange caused the night to go awry
as a shroud covered moonlight's golden glow.
My pulse quickened at the phenomenon.
I inhaled the floral scent of roses.
Snowflakes drifted over garden and lawn.
Like a fairytale that one composes,
it was a magical scene to dwell on.
Stars were dancing around the somber moon.
The brightest ones provided enough light
to see them twirling to a rhytmic tune.
What a spectacle I witnessed tonight;
stars waltzing and snow in the month of June!
With drooping eyelids, I soon fell asleep,
awakened when dawn's fingers touched my face.
At the window I sat, ready to weep.
Of snow and roses, there was not a trace.
The tale of last night I'll secretly keep.
Somber is the color of the day
Prisms of lamplight reflection
On darkened window glass
The rainbow of color seeping through
Stained glass puzzle pieces
of a pewter lamp of old
While quietly, I sit, and ponder, my pen in hand
Upon cold shoulders, woolen sweater pulled closer
As varied thoughts so far away.
My mind is lost in wakened dream
While trees are tossed about in winter winds
And leaves are dead beneath the snowy mounds
A fire glows, the storm that keeps me bound.
One shard of light, from neighbor's home
Across the hill, a distant mile
The dimness as a room from winter sighs
I write the words of heartfelt lullabies
The day is sadder than the words I've found
So somber is the day that keeps me bound
As the storm clouds of unforeseen gloom hover low
with the shattered sky’s diffused light of uncertain future,
I gift my soul sinking within the abyss of dire darkness,
glints of lingering hope from the cornucopia of nature.
The symphony of spring cascades in the cadence of air,
in the orchestra of zephyr its mesmeric melody I hear.
On sunburst sky turning to argosy of splintered ember
the flotilla of chromatic clouds makes flaming furrows.
As the mystic mist melts on the dew of the meadow,
the blushing blades of grass adorn the crystal crown.
From the canvas of sapphire spread on the pellucid sky,
drizzles the patina of ebullience on the rustling leaves.
The flushing fresco of flowers the bursting buds unfurl,
designing the tapestry of grandeur on beguiling garden.
The flitting butterfly swarm creates collage of spectrum,
serene scenes of sublime beauty brighten somber times.
April 9, 2020
Contest : Serenity In Scenes Of Mother Nature
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
May 24, 2020
Contest : Strand No. 770
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Staple diets tainted gray
still pesticides they spray
gallops horse of dapple grey
fourth beast say, ”hell’s to pay”
as life bubbles into shape
for human illusion’s sake
two thousand twelve’s wake
Love in life is not a fake
Somber tones may meander
worldly concepts detest a new face
many old faces doth not erase
Love’s face, by perdition’s race
As the sun sets
and the twilight comes out,
as the birds and squrriels are no where in sight.
As the whores and pimps sit on street corners,
waiting for street lights to turn from green to red.
As cadillacs stop and roll their windows down.
I can her the faint cry deep in the darkness,
of dirty gutters and dark, dead end alleyways,
I hear the faint tears fall and hit concrete pavement.
I feel the faint cries of whores,
I hear the sound of backhand hitting face
and brused tissue and broken noses are everywhere.
And the somber tears fall onto pillow cases,
and white motel bedsheets run red with blood
and cheap Italian wine.
And you can her the poet over the radio,
reading his own work for the one millionth time
and you can hear his soul slowly wanting to die.
He drowns himself in smoke and alcohol
the whore takes her pay, or spends a night in a jail cell,
the pimp nowhere to be found,
with a shiny blade stuck deep in his gut.
And the somber tears fall gently on the concrete pavement,
the floors of a jail cell,
tears on the pillow case and tears on a lonesome stage.
Tears never present, but are seen by many,
pain aches and pain takes away,
and I pour one more drink for the whore.
She takes me away,
and I caught her salty, somber tear,
and she crawled into my warm embrace.
I was the one who stuck the blade in the gut of that pimp,
who broke her nose and made her bleed,
with a cowardess and souless backhand.
I walk into the moonlight,
hearing the somber tears all around me,
crash violently to the concrete pavement.
The Earth rumbles and erupts with these tears,
that are shead for fellow Men, and Women and Children,
but we all look at ourselves and smile.
Happy we don't pay rent,
happy we don't have cancer,
happy we aren't six feet under;
But we still all cry,
Why?
Somber tears all fall in one big wave
crashing violently on the concrete pavement.
Now the red light turns green,
and the traffic moves along,
the whore is still at her corner,
the pimp still with the blade in his gut.
Whilst sitting at her piano,
A tune it just came out,
It was so full of sadness,
We all had so much doubt.
Lydia was her name,
She was on the way to fame,
Her music was a special gift,
And gave us such a lift.
The townsfolk they all gathered around,
To greet this girl they'd found,
And she became an idol,
In this little country town.
One day whilst they were walking,
The lane was deep in snow,
The townsfolk came across this girl,
It's the way she wanted to go.
So now when they hear a piano,
Their thoughts all turn to her,
And so this Somber Story,
Still causes their heart to stir.
A somber dawn breaks upon a hillside
strewn with hedges of dew
drenched blackberries
Written 8/19/22
FIRST PLACE
Your Thoughts On Blackberries Contest
Sponsor: Matt Caliri
the bleakness of which was unparalleled
your weakness will no doubt be up held
havoc has consumed a once fertile mind
the girls and the women have been so kind
as to bring candy and cherries to my home
turned away to remain in my steel dome
no visitors, no family shall enter
bemused to myself, mumbling insane banter
scratches all over my arms and on my amygdala
the only bites consumed are on a tart royal gala
a Scottish hymn playing over and over in my head
beside me a dead poem, remembering the once bled
my slumber interrupted by a phone call;
you can be happy now, you will not fall.
With hunger comes a somber head,
Thus weakened by the lack of bread;
The filament of will is thinned,
The crop is filled with empty wind;
And time is creeping like a stone,
An urgent face in pace forlorn;
And while some goods are left to rot,
My stomach churns downside to top;
That by the time the aids arrive,
I’d have eaten half my own alive;
Half dead is dragged with clanging bones,
From mats of flies a dreadful drone;
And vultures buy time worth the wait,
The drooling dogs their mouths agape;
Until the motion goes to rest;
Upon my carcass hold a feast,
Fiercer than lion, o meaner than jaws
Sharper than eagle’s raptorial claws
Ripping the heart off the hollow of chest
Disheveling the rest that they cannot ingest
Racing to sit at the top of the heap
To perch on a sill for a primordial feat
Greed is the master, hunger the beast;
Man is the prime yet man is the least…
Somber psalm, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : Salmo sombrio
(from Carlos Bousono’s first book of poems, written before he was 22 : Subida al amor (Ascent into love), 1945, and dedicated to the 1977 Nobel laureat, Vicente Aleixandre.)
Do not pass by me , O ! God ! incognito,
do not cross my path like a sky emptied of its stars,
for my body turns in upon itself in flames,
loving you in silence with such persistent anguish.
Do not cross my path while I keep loving an obscure entity,
while I continue to whimper among cactuses, among stones.
So turn Your face away, Your face that I fear
during such a roaring and wild night !
Keep Your distance from me ! Abandon me in the dark !
so that I may wish to be the source and thirst of this earth
in order to be able to love this twisted
trunk of a body sans light, all alone in this blinding wilderness !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Wind swifts across the leaves that fall in the arid ground
Rain drops falls from the sky as bewailing your demise
Dark clouds gloom the firmament evoking a somber air
A red flower bud blooms as a great promise of a new life
Nayda Ivette
12-12-2015