Best Unconsoled Poems
Angrily, rain enfolds the insular rise of lawn undulating.
Anglers dream, envious fishermen, inside looking out urging
apostles, who elope within imaginary onslaughts, hooked unburdening's.
Aloft, thunder encounters lightening's insistent taunt, oracles fearsome uttering's.
And still, each fisherman's innermost summoning orchestrates this untoward
atmospheric downfall, each drop induced, prayerful, outpouring is underscored.
Admittedly many envious housebound inmates seek oceans, lakes, unexplored
although, the earthly torrent interferes pitiless, onerous, rainfall unleashed.
Absent the energizing rays introduced by ordinary sun, undone
are these enigmatic men in rooms, oar less, ship-less, landlubbers unconsoled.
Another day encases them indoors mooning over fish uncontrolled.
A trophy earned, stuffed, indisputably shows offerings untold.
Ah, fishtails energetically rise incensed by objections never unabridged
absent their earnest wives, imagination rolls on winds un-curtailed.
Categories:
unconsoled, adventure, dream, humorous, husband,
Form:
Verse
Villanelle: Cowered crushed cramped cold in the pit of our stomachs
Cowered crushed cramped cold in the pit of our stomachs
We drag our ego thrones saddled on stooping lean backs
Fiendish liege Lords’ furnace mouths whiplash at run amoks
None can bear the thought shrunken image left on dry docks
Unconsoled by doctoral degrees or skills won on bent backs
Cowered crushed cramped cold in the pit of our stomachs
The terrifying shame of being left to rot on torrid tarmacs
The will to keep going in the face of spites and silly smacks
Fiendish liege Lords’ furnace mouths whiplash at run amoks
Les mille vices and pin-pricks we put up with as decoy ducks
While His Majesty Liege Ego rides in pomp pitfalls on tracks
Cowered crushed cramped cold in the pit of our stomachs
All mere paying passengers grovelling on groaning stomachs
No tenant fit to reign in his own fiefdom his baggage unpacks
Fiendish liege Lords’ furnace mouths whiplash at run amoks
He who runs not with hares but howls with hounding packs
Is he content to walk straight smile strung on lips and locks
Cowered crushed cramped cold in the pit of our stomachs
Fiendish liege Lords’ furnace mouths whiplash at run amoks
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
unconsoled, character,
Form:
Villanelle
"
I have walked the silent paths of grief
Sunless,dreary,cold and all alone.
I have slept on beds of winter leaves.
I know that death’s a greedy starving thief.
Although my heart weeps and my joy has gone.
I have never felt I was deceived.
I have learned that human life is brief.
I have learned by sorrow we’re undone.
I have sifted earth and what’s beneath.
I have felt the dark emotions seethe
I've felt cruelly burned by glaring sun.
I have learned the geography of grief.
I wait in sorrow for this life to cease
Yet some are never loved by anyone
I have dreamed in beds of winter leaves
Unconsoled grief can make us dumb
Into our hearts, we drag the ice that numbs
I have walked the silent paths of grief
I have made my bed on winter leaves
Categories:
unconsoled, grief,
Form:
Villanelle
I looked at you
Pity seeps through my soul
How could anyone leave you in hunger
Leaving you with sadness unconsoled
I looked at you with tearful eyes
I knelt down, stroking you gently
I put food right before you
Hoping it satisfy your stomach plenty
Love...
That's what you need
Love...
The world won't give you any
Finally, you turned to me
A little gratitude you spoke in your eyes
Those words in your eyes warms my heart
Which makes my lips curved a happy smile
The lightning crackled, splitting the horizon
Which makes you scamper into hiding
My Lord, the feline is homeless...
Which brings my heart another aching
I approached you slowly
Your eyes reflects fear
I carry you in my arms gently
Assuring you that I'm here
You need not fear
I'll leave you no more
You'll come home with me
Entering a happiness door
You entered an entire new world
Onto me you can cling on
You heart filled with uncertainties
But be assured, in my heart love can be found.
Categories:
unconsoled, animals, caregiving, love, sympathy,
Form:
My transient small dreams magnified manifold,
over mindscape wide wings of desire they grew,
my constrained essence could no longer hold,
turning to beguiled birds in ardent sky they flew.
They soared to reach the horizon shaped anew,
through the clefts of dark clouds floating cold,
where cosmic silence drizzled with twilight hue,
my transient small dreams magnified manifold.
They flew en echelon in the still sky’s azure fold,
the charming design afloat I delineated for you.
Though the meaning of pattern remained untold,
over mindscape wide wings of desire they grew.
The dreams allured me with kaleidoscopic view,
before I could freeze them away they all rolled.
They drifted away on the tides of time, I knew
my constrained essence could no longer hold.
At the end of trance I gave up trying unconsoled,
tired of wearing strive the aim I couldn’t pursue.
They ascended beyond me, I was left to behold,
turning to beguiled birds in ardent sky they flew.
So, within the forlorn abyss of gloom I withdrew,
trudging time with turbulent mind uncontrolled.
For the disappeared birds I’d build nests a few,
they’d discover someday returning from the cold,
my transient small dreams.
_____________
June 16, 2022
Contest : A Rondeau Redouble
Sponsored by : L Milton Hankins
Categories:
unconsoled, analogy, bird, dream, metaphor,
Form:
Rondeau Redouble
I had hoped to beat the violent storm's shooting hail,
struggling through falling branches, some broken and some whole;
my mutt with a rigid tail growled steadily and pinned his teeth to my jeans,
and I stuck in mud, vainly tried to break loose, but nobody heard my screams.
Trucks loaded with tar drove by and the burning smell made me terribly sick,
someone thought I was the farm's scarecrow and threw a beer can at me,
and he even hissed and cursed with a deriding tone for my disheveled shape;
I waved like humans do, but he thought the gusts had shaken my hands with frenzy.
Lucky me it wasn't winter, the warmest wind slapped my unconsoled face,
naughty quails flew over to pick strawberries hanging from my torn hat;
all of a sudden a few became a herd, and my body was being mouled into pieces,
and before I turned into rags and bruises, the farmer came running with his rake.
And I stuck in mud, I yelled for help, then all the birds flew away with discontent,
the middle-aged farmer introduced himself with his sourthern friendliness;
what would I have cared about his hospitality, if he hadn't pulled me out of the dirt,
and hadn't taken me straight to the shower, and given me some clean clothes?
This was my immediate need, and he saw it in my disgusted mood and slow thought,
and with his witty Tennessee accent, he addressed me as sir as if I were his officer superior;
respectable and kind, without prejudice for a yankee, he picked me up without effort,
and singing a country tune, he lied me down on the back seat without slamming the door.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
unconsoled, friendship, people, places, sea,
Form:
Quatrain
This was for keeps for all we knew
so far away so long ago
I really fell in love with you
before you played the second show
White lace and grace and promises
Beguile? Belong? Betroth? Beseech?
it's best to do what momma says
so very close so out of reach
The moment when the slight girl sings
that lovely voice like scented smoke
like chocolate and cello strings
like molten gold or burnished oak
I know I've wasted too much time
the one thing that's in short supply
there'll never be another rhyme
and stars won't fall down from the sky
I tell myself I'm feeling old
there's nothing I can do about it
and what I've garnered unconsoled
of love is how to live without it
Why must our loved ones disappear?
Oh won't you say what laid you low?
I know that you're not really here
it's just that worn-out radio
Categories:
unconsoled, nostalgia,
Form:
Quatrain
with unconsoled cries
weeping and gnashing their teeth ~
their worm never dies
—————
for the Hell Haiku Poetry Contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori
written on 3/26/23
Categories:
unconsoled, dark, horror,
Form:
Haiku
the same each day - no different is my night
I yearn for light inside my dismal fold
The joy I seek eludes my feeble sight ......
My profile low - restrictions far too tight
Of time and sense of nature growing old
The same each day - no different is my night.
Mt soirit low - cleft too bereft for flight
Cross shadowed - squeezed into a mortal mould
The joy I seek eludes my my feeble sight ......
The "Soup Run" warms me in pitious plight
A hug a caring female hand to hold
The same each day - no different is the night.
Gone (almost) is the life I thought my right
Undead I cling to clay while growing old
The joy I seek eludes my feeble sight ......
Eclipsing life itself - a human blight
Unloved - unwashed - my spirit unconsoled
The same each day - no different is my night.
My rose has bloomed - and blossomed in the light
A bteath of warmth has blown away the cold
Th joy i seek for suddenly in sight ......
YES ..... Now I glimpse a bright celestial light
And feel this day will now to joy unfold
A bright new day - the passing of the night
The joy for which I sought - at last in sight !!!!!
Categories:
unconsoled, depressionday, light, day, joy,
Form:
Villanelle
I feel soft ghostly hands around my throat
That want to pull me to the darkest deep
My husband cannot leave or be remote
He wishes me to join him in his sleep.
I shall resist for I desire to live
Though lonely are my hours without his face.
I have no more I wish to give
Now he has taken from me his kind embrace.
As lonely as a swan without its mate.
As tired as swallows after they migrate
I must accept my unconsoled fate
I'll not believe this be a constant state.
From my loss I shall recover when
The birds return and summer comes again
Categories:
unconsoled, absence, loss,
Form:
Sonnet
A leaf clings to a lifeless branch
In humble and tenuous hold
A limp and parched and fragile thing
Endurance unconsoled
In life, through changes, we must face
We’re sometimes like that leaf
Holding on, a threadbare rein
Through loss and pain and grief
Embrace, little leaf, my gentle friend
Though chilly winds may hover
For life remains and strength regains
Through change, we rediscover
Categories:
unconsoled, change, life, strength, stress,
Form:
Rhyme
To write! to truly write, to wield the pen
as but a mere extension of the mind.
Yet contemplating, I am wont to find
perhaps the glitch is buried there within.
For, so it seems, no sooner than I cast
a hook into the infinite, alas,
before I can retrieve,
it slips away as through a sieve,
and I am left with bits of weed and moss:
an unconsoled, inchoate sense of loss
at that which might have been.
And so I reel it in, and cast, and cast again…
At times, the hook is set, yet teasing out
a simple thought onto dry land,
embellishments, initially unplanned,
beget a speckled spectacle en route.
Or loss of focus, leading to a snag
in how or what I meant to say,
and though it lies securely in the bag,
’tis bruised and bloodied, marred along the way.
Yet none of this does lead us to despair,
for there! in quiet pools, a shadow lies!
The fly, a graceful arc through breathless air,
lands unobtrusive and before our eyes,
the pool erupts and we are on the chase:
a fascinating, wondrous space
where lilting lines flow into verse,
so effortless and unrehearsed.
To fish a stream where strivings cease
but spoils the game and sweet release.
Without the toil, joy slips away;
we frankly wouldn’t have it any other way.
Categories:
unconsoled, love, writing,
Form:
Ode
Goodbye my love
all thoughts…
and Visions of you
have fled My mind
Only to leave behind
A harsh..
hollowed out crater
In the center of my soul
Leaving me…
unconsoled…
As your scent fades
And memories of
your eyes,
Your face,
Your shape
Surrender into shadows…
Lost, is you;
forever more In my
Embrace….
What faustian barging
Must I make, to escape
This plight…
Of the pain
of the lose..
that will follow me…
into the
Eternal night….
Categories:
unconsoled, death of a friend,
Form:
Ballad
I can't believe that
my good mistress'
gone.
she came,she
saw,she lived,she
worked and died.
But duties of her is
yet to be done.
That's why I'm
weeping while long I
cried.
She is now call
among the
dead,she's dead.
No place to see and
hear her any more.
We lost her sweet
maternal tea and
bread.
on our unconsoled
heart lies ever sore.
To sorrow I was
nailed when i
realised;
her teaching and its
great impact in life,
her charming voice
of care and great
advised.
That's why I called
her sister,mom and
wife.
If God not God,I shall
curse him the God.
But since He is God,
I have to nod.
Categories:
unconsoled, death
Form:
Sonnet
My God, why are you so quiet to your child?
You are noisy as trucks rumbling by remote
I see you in the terrors of the night glowing
I taste you in the night cloying in my throat
I feel you down to my restless legs waking
I know you as a child knows his father
Coddled children never learn to walk
You left me in the care of parents who leave
But, didn’t you abandon me just to gawk?
Still, you've never left me though I bereave
My immature mind reaches out to you
You are the quiet voice in my cries shaken
You remind me that to talk I must listen
You remind me to feel I must ache
To see I must know your pure omission
You show me the broken pieces rebuilding
In the dead of night, I feel your lovely floor
Can I embrace myself within your cold tomb?
Your son leaves the frame of a blackened door
Your silence rushes in noisy as a womb
You remind me you are light and darkness
You are my true parent asking me to rise
Again and again without a hand to hold
Without a guide, you show me who is wise
You ask me to be my parent as Jesus toiled
You promise me rest when night comes
When hands grow cold and there's nothing to do
You are a father that never grows old
Then a door opens for me to hobbled though
Will you greet me when senses are unconsoled?
Your quiet and darkness are a play of stillness
You are faith and doubt when senses are unsteady
Grant me your everlasting maturity in your plan
I promise to rise when I’m good and ready
I promise not to cry like a child, but a man
****
Isaiah 46:9-10
Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.
Categories:
unconsoled, absence, father, god, men,
Form:
Rhyme