Best Sulks Poems
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
Categories:
sulks, angel, dark,
Form:
Alliteration
On the bed, my ginger cat settles
onto a pile of clean laundry, dryer warm
Feline steady stare, resolute
a strategy of possession
she relaxes the way prayer soothes
"Off!" I command. My cat an unwelcome bedded guest.
she whines, "Surely, he's bluffing!"
solidified
empowered
swollen in the pride of "I'm not moving!"
meows spewed like an anthem of resistance
I lift her from the pile,
my underwear dangles from cat claws
like cheap tinsel on a tree
she exits, her short lived reign
sulks into howls of whining
till dinner softens her rebuff
till wherever curiosity and comfort take her,
anew
My hope of co-habitation:
to calm the little woes of daily chores
to reduce cat prestige from shedded hair
to shrink feline non-compliance to a
manageable scale
Our social contract - a trade off
to reaffirm my status
to maintain the charade of "boss"
an unsteady footing
in the crushed aspiration of rule
Poem composed February 7/2022
Categories:
sulks, angst, cat, conflict, pets,
Form:
Free verse
FLYING
Before I ever thought of age
I dreamed of running through the woods
And lifting my feet from the ground and flying.
Only a few inches up, not over trees.
But yard after yard, gliding into Spring
And never falling.
College came, soon in the Fall.
It was the time. I was of age.
Still I would look to the Spring
For trips back to my youth filled woods
And climbing mountains full of trees
I would again dream of flying.
A wife and children, how time flies
Year after year from Springs to Falls.
I taught the kids about the trees
Still young enough and at the age
When mystery still lived in woods
And life was always almost Spring.
We bought a cabin near a spring
I taught the kids to fish with flies
The sun sneaked through soft pine woods
And lit up everything where it fell.
Oh, those were the days, that was the age
When all we needed for friends were trees.
I gaze out through the glass .High over trees.
Ten stories up above an outdoor’s Spring.
Jobs are hard in this new age.
But still I dream of flying.
I will retire in the Fall
To mountains and familiar woods.
They are all gone. I’m in the woods
Surrounded by familiar trees.
The cabin sulks in shades of Fall
Afraid there may not be a Spring.
Or dreams of flying
At my age.
The woods will still be there in Spring.
The trees will bloom. The new birds fly.
And someone else will look to Fall and flying through the ages.
Categories:
sulks, age, flying,
Form:
Sestina
Not only the one who sulks does barely nothing,
he also bums out the rest of his acquaintances,
diminishing their cheerfulness and good will,
strewing this distressing mentality among other folks,
getting their minds infected with his contagious stress
It's all but inherent in humans to mope now and then,
yet there are fellows who do so too frequently;
they contaminate other minds with their behavior,
Thus they're giving rise to more mopers and so on;
Let's not be mopers so that life smiles at us and we at her.
Categories:
sulks, adventure, analogy, beauty, bereavement,
Form:
Free verse
A passenger opposite me
In the bus looked at me
His bare face, a rough feeling worn
How may change, with that my own
Looking at him and a small smile by my cheeks
Stagnant image sulks and my smile embarrasses
His face and mind not having deflected
Tells something strange I am confused
Only thing that I have had
It was not, that I think very bad
One more smile came in my face
I could slightly open the lace
A reaction to an action might have not the same
A small turn in inner may be the aim
When I left the bus and him at my time
One thing, looking at me, I saw him
Now I remind what I did
And in return he how did
Both we have to re- think, if need
I’m afraid, who he is
My smile’s cheaper, I always give
Did he think that I am mad?
Or would it be the paradox
If the other looked this box
Categories:
sulks, life, lonely, simile,
Form:
Free verse
The Shoshone bargain their horses like apathetic bankers,
what we all have in common is constant starvation
and near death stumbles, several times this month our pack animals
have slipped and fallen on this treacherous route,
in the Bitterroot Passes there is virtually no game for food
and everyone is broken in some private way,
September snowfall is beginning to seize this rocky world
now the trail's knobs, broken timbers and deadfalls are even more sabotaging,
all we have are weapons, tradegoods and clothing, and a whole lotta wet cold,
we're outta food provisions, and the whiskey has been gone since Fort Mandan,
sometimes the men catch small fish in the creeks and grab hold of grouse,
Sacagawea sulks no more than any of us when frustration and pain bite
she's real tough, and sexy in strain
she has been scrounging edible roots for us,
thank goodness she wanted to come with us to the edge of the world,
begrudgingly we kill and cook a colt, the meat is good and vital
but in so doing costs us so much,
11 days since the Bitterroot risk, marching 160 miles through this mountain crucible,
and finally an open, low flat pasture where game and efficiency can be gained,
we are not going to die in this stone necropolis,
I feel a kinship to the Carthaginian General Hannibal
who succeeded 2, 000 years ago leading an army through the Roman Alps,
although we have no elephants, but we do have a young Republic on our backs,
J.A.B.
Categories:
sulks, adventure, history,
Form:
Epic
As the Sun sulks in a somber place,
flakes of alabaster mask His face.
And like banshees crying out all alone,
howling winds bring a chill to the bone.
Freezing temps take the fun out of play;
when blustery winds won't blow away.
And depression sullies days of snow;
fearing Winter will never let go.
Blanketing earth in a white duvet;
color is absent from Nature's cache.
And while geese flee this barren landscape,
life hunkers down if it can't escape.
Salt and slush coat the city today;
in dull hues of melancholy gray.
And skyscrapers anchor clouds of mist;
stifling the air as flurries persist.
Spiraling thoughts let sadness take hold;
driven by merciless months of cold.
And city folks recall winters past;
dampening hopes this weather won't last.
Categories:
sulks, city, depression, how i
Form:
Rhyme
Refrain:
Beware ye netizens
of the internet troll
dare not feed it.
just sigh and past it scroll
I
There dwell within the internet
A vile creature with a rash wreath
Who spews their venom
From between their buck teeth
II
"Just ignore it!"
Can we get a moderator before we're overran?
Drive out this message board demon
We'll squash this uprising with a ban!
III
Upon it's mind today
"How canst I grieve them now?
Shall I compare thee
To a mountain goat or a sow?"
Refrain
IV
Victim locked within
the creature's sights
It's piercing taunts
Cause sleepless nights
V
Keyboard warriors
To your stations
Defend your brothers
'Gainst this infestation
Refrain
VI
And what spy we
With our IP tracker?
Be it a troll or
the resident hacker?
VII
But soft! What's that
Here comes the beast!
Quick insult his grammar or
Upon our insecurities he'll feast
Refrain
VII
And one by one
By bullying the forum pest
They beat him back and
Drove him to his cheeto nest
VIII
Now he sulks and pouts
Instead of hurling abuse
Too afraid of the outside
But still armed with excuse
VIIII
Soon! he promises
And rubs his hands together with glee
But his insults are flaccid
And won't hurt a flea
Categories:
sulks, humor, humorous,
Form:
Ballade
He sits and waits and sulks
as the clock strikes
and on they strike
and on he called to do no wrong 'in judgement,
in meteyard, in weight or in measure,'
And Oh! the boy thinks he see's this,
but his judgement clouded by soot black eyes.
And so he only sees the adults have struck him wrong
as he sits and waits outside the office
for the Brother, teacher to emerge
as the clock strikes
and on they strike.
For they can not tolerate the closure of their mines,
the closure of their lives
and so they defy 'Her England,' of which
Orwell wrote and which came true in
nineteen-eighty-four
So the boy should not sulk
as the clock strikes
and on they strike
as he should see there are greater injustices
or is it true that
'he that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much.'
Categories:
sulks, history, philosophy
Form:
Free verse
Confessions Of A Poet
As the dark hour slays the great setting Sun
earthly fires in the nether regions flame
The poet's heart must see both to have fun
words spit forth earnestly but not a game
Slashing one's own soul to get the job done
In the midst of the darkest lonely night
poetry burns deeply to release its heat
Poet's heart must feel all to truly write
claws that gash and sharp teeth that eat
Epic battle marching words into the fight
Each verse sings softest melody just to him
as the sky cast down its deepest blues
The poet must see with a mind never dim
searching heaven and hell for any clues
Play with words and toss 'em out on a whim
So says a drunken Muse, the envy of my Soul
she that sulks and cries to beat the band
Pretends winning her heart should be my goal
Robert J. Lindley, 03-09-2015
note--I asked but why, but why end with that closing three verses.
Got back the usual snarky reply, "just shut up and write."!
Categories:
sulks, creation, muse, poetry, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
In the path of sundust
multicolored dancing particles
he sits, sulks, mutters,
dust gathers on his wheels
The daylight taunts him
beyond the glass defense
pulling on his emotions
as the heat sneers sarcastically
One finger is reaching
rubs the bright colors of
his motionless wheels in
projected frustration
When a gray cloud wanders by,
a momentary distraction
His mind bends in assorted directions
while thoughts turn to winter
He wishes magic wand dreams
snow men sitting on sleds
legs, willpower propelled
long-haired, giggling faeries
The cold wind whips about his skin
as he bundles up, not for warmth, but comfort
His blanket brings the snow to him,
soft fabric drifts caressing memories
He weaves dreams of comfort
of love and friendship
racing rainbow wheels warp speed
being carried by loved ones
And even though the sun has now returned
he still smiles from his room
Because he knows there will be other clouds,
returning him to the happy moments
***
July 26, 2017
Copyright © Chris Green and Darren White
Categories:
sulks, friendship, strength,
Form:
Free verse
You bought the ticket, so let's take a ride
I promise not to leave you unsatisfied
You may want a life vest and/or bear spray
And abandon all hope as you enter the doorway...
There's the part of me that runs amok while I sleep
The eccentric puppeteer with a flock of black sheep
Mysteriously promoting subconscious motivations
And slipping in mischievously to my daily communication
There's the part of me that sullenly sulks and mopes
Impossible to please and the dasher of all my hopes
Nothing is ever good enough 'cause it's all so bad
If I ever go to a rubber room, it's 'cause he drove me mad
There's the part of me that endlessly fantasizes
Always conjuring grandiose and complicated enterprises
Content to ruminate and pontificate, but never actually "do"
He's the one who looks fine, as long as you look askew
There's the part of me that works hard and stays quiet
Generally, he's the one I allow to be the pilot
Busy keeping this mind field intact and nicely landscaped
He's the one I always wish got a chance to have escaped
There's many other parts of me vying for their turn at the helm
But, for the most part, I never let them overwhelm
It's as easy as herding cats or nailing jello to the wall
But I must have a self-governing principle, a guiding protocol
I never let any part of myself run the show always
Some I can only let out on vacations and holidays
And I never keep any part of myself shut out completely
I just let it out ever so discreetly
Categories:
sulks, funny, humor, identity, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
(literary nonsense)
the winter was so long ago, burying the world in snow
rabbits hop where rabbits go, here i sit to-night
and the day i hath long dreaded which hath left me much beheaded
worn my sanity unthreaded as i sought the sun's warm light
said the rabbit, hopping past, to my thoughtless face aghast, "lanterns are a great delight."
but my mind hath never shown me, nor my pinched, weak thoughts have grown me
anything which should beknown me: that a rabbit never talks
of a lantern, never falters in his steps to break the halters of the sacrifice on alter (of the wolf who nightly stalks)
just to speak to one who sulks under skies my soul doth mock
have you ever seen a rabbit come to break his daily habit and commence to speak as if it mother nature's natural norm?
and if by chance he mentions 'lantern' just to break your flurried pattern just to knock you off your rocker whilst you dream away a storm
does it leave you cold or warm to have a rabbit which informs?
if you haven't it is likely that you would not see me brightly
but you'd find me quite unsightly as most men find the plain insane
if you have i think you'd find it quite amusing for behind it
there's a joke that doesn't mind it, for jokes minding is inane
still i laugh at my poor brain for losing every bit of sane (to see a rabbit speak is strange)
and if i could see it logically; if possible biologically, i might function neurologically, but remember, brain twas dead
and the sky was growing longer, growing longer, ever grayer, and my mind was never stronger for i lacked a bit of bread
and the rabbit's words he said, hopping circles in my head
still it was that long i pondered, of a rabbit, yes i wondered, speaking to me while he wandered of a lantern bringing joy
and so to a barn i stumbled while the distant thunder rumbled and i felt so very humbled, being, a moment,a rabbit's toy
and i, my words, employed, to ask a lantern from a boy
it was kind of him to light it, and i journeyed back, excited, to the place where i was seated, seated in the dark of night
and there, i sat and waited with my trembling breath bated, and my mind was still sedated with the numbing lack of light
there i sat waiting in the night to catch the rabbit in my sight
Categories:
sulks, animals, confusion, children, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Kitty charms
sweetest gift
in your arms
Fluffy fur
twinkling eyes
mews and purr
Hide and seek
'neath the couch
gold eyes peak
Chases wand
bats the toy
quick respond
Paws squirm neath
the closed door
priceless feat
Climbs the drapes
scolded down
runs escapes
Under chair
hides and sulks
with blank stare
Hears some noise
food in bowl
smells the joys
With meow
runs to eat
happy now
Nighttime treat
sleeps on bed
warms your feet
Categories:
sulks, cat, love,
Form:
Verse
Effigy formed of inert dust,
Inhaled the divine pulse, vile vine
Infused with worth and dignity.
I'm not! I'm not! Fallen from grace;
I frown at my rueful bungle.
Sad to strut, my honor swishes
Shame; dark crusted conscience
Hangs on me; keeps paling my worth
Till I yell at Christ's open arms
For return of the gone glory,
So dear, the present, a shadow.
Years in the fire, self-refining,
Yielded scum, dross, a dull shine.
If I should have another chance,
Revert to the noble state I'd lost,
My heart could be tanned rainbow.
A dove cranes on a perch, offset
Against the blue, croons in the wind,
Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?
Yet I battle with baneful pride,
Scorn the grace, the courting nocturne.
No end to my nice now, I wow.
Quite unequalled, I'll ever be.
The bell tolls for others, each time
Softer; the whir of a whirling world.
The sun keeps her scoot; stars, their stroll.
Summer smiles; winter whines, sulks.
Time etches against my proud form.
The bell! Sounds like tolling closer—
Jangling, ruffling... nettling.
Yet my pride... my pride sticks,
Lances the chance to begin again.
© 2015 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
Categories:
sulks, spiritual,
Form:
Pastoral