Best Worsening Poems
"Alas! The lessening light, the worsening my plight-
My face- a somber expression..." excerpt from
*a poem by Just That Archaic Poet
The summer of my laughter’s passed;
my happy skies grow overcast.
No meadowlark is singing here.
The winter of my tears is near.
In vale of shadows, sun hangs low.
I sojourn now where chill winds blow.
Into November’s gloom I peer.
The winter of my tears is near.
Before I meet eternity,
a snow shall come and bury me,
Its brilliance - anguish soon will mirror.
The winter of my tears is near.
The summer of my laughter’s passed.
The winter of my tears is near.
Born in Ireland in eighteen seventy four
He was a remarkably brave explorer
Three times to Antartica he did go
To that barren wilderness of ice and snow.
Once with Captain Scott and twice on his own
And it was on his third visit that his bravery became known
The expedition was to reach the southern pole
For all the great explorers, it was the ultimate goal.
The Weddell sea was freezing and tightened its grip
And crushed the Endurance, the expedition ship
The crew saved all the equipment and food stores too
They were stranded on an ice floe there was nothing they could do.
But the floe breaks up and on the sea it floats
So the order was given to launch the life boats
They set sail for Elephant island in the southern ocean
And with worsening conditions approached it with caution.
It was a temporary move, they knew they couldn't stay
Shackleton had to get help, there was no other way
Except for five crewmen all the rest did remain
On the island for four months with its inhospitable terrain.
South Georgia was the place that they needed to get to
From there they would be able to launch a rescue
Eight hundred nautical miles they had to row and sail
Through gigantic waves with snow, ice and hail.
Stromness whale station, it was their goal
But on their boat the harsh conditions had taken their toll
South of the island they had to land on a beach
Thirty six hours north was help, they needed to reach.
Three of the crew were taken ill, no more could they take
So Shackleton and two others, a long trek they did make
They trekked in conditions that could have caused harm
But they reached the whale station and raised the alarm.
The three sick crewman were rescued, thankfully still alive
And the twenty two on Elephant island were struggling to survive
Penguin and seal meat was what they had to eat
But they kept their hopes up not admitting defeat.
On August the thirtieth in nineteen sixteen
A Chilean navy ship on the horizon was seen
It was Shackletons fourth attempt to rescue his crew
Their ordeal was now over, but hell they'd been through.
Written 9th January 2018
This poem is a re-post from last year for the situation is worsening daily.
ELEPHANT’S GHOST
I am represented as a trinket on a
Human's wrist.
I was bought from a vendor,
Sometime last September,
I remember the vendor, he was,
Approached by a man in the street,
This man had stepped out of the shadows,
The vendor to meet.
The man from the shadows
Met with two other men
Their march sounded like military feet.
Money was exchanged, someone
Pointed to a truck down a lonely street,
The poachers knew
This deserted, but well known beat,
In the truck were the tusks of us all,
These despicable people had,
Gunned us down, and one by one,
Including me we met our fall.
Our tusks were hacked out,
Some of us not quite dead no doubt!
But I haven’t lost hope,
It isn’t too late,
To stop our bloody, grizzly fate,
Because a trinket made from part of me,
Means that humans can visibly see,
And then ask, for goodness sake,
Can we not try and end this heartache,
This horrible butchery,
With which we can all agree,
That, trinkets made from the tusks of
An elephant like me, never ever be sold,
And become the past, a history,
That will then only be told,
As a fairy story about wicked men
Who killed elephants in scores of ten.
Elephant proudly is my name,
Please stop this greedy killing game,
I chose to have my ghostly say,
And look forward to the day,
When elephant trinkets no more be made,
And for them be paid
In a sleazy vendors store,
Behind drawn curtains and a greasy floor.
I now can rest,
And feel blessed,
I appeal to all who hear,
For I’ve whispered in your ear,
Please be my mouth piece,
Try and make this madness cease,
Let us in unison say,
Poachers go away!
A very loyal woman was Miep Jan Gies,
Brave, caring, and really very wise -
She was confident and daring - On her some lives depended
Now, following her story, so many minds have mended.
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Considering the worsening situation for the Jews, the Franks decided to go into hiding in the secret annex of their office building. Miep gladly agreed to be a helper, bringing them food that she would gather from different grocers with ration cards.
She and her co-workers were able to keep the family hidden for over two years, but eventually they were betrayed. The annex was raided by the Nazis on August 4, 1944, and the occupants were sent to concentration camps. Miep found Anne Frank's diary and put it away for the family's return.
She was a great source of hope and motivation for the Franks; they couldn’t have lasted long without Miep’s help.
Two hearts dreaming to become one
Wedding bells,and blessing chimes
To cherish and fulfill the happiness Sooner there going to be three
Hoping for a glorious gift from the heaven…
I was sewing a pink frock And he was caressing a tiny blue sock
With hearts pouring out immense love
Waiting to welcome the little angel….
An unexpected call from the doctor, words cutting like a knife
You will have to choose ,
Either special or non,
Choice is yours…
but remember,Its just a lifeless soul yet..
Looking outside the window,lightening and thundering
A rain never poured, Worsening the throbbing breathes
‘God never creates accidents, the gift for our heavenly love
Is wrapped as a little miracle…gazing at his tearful eyes I whispered,
Yes,we are ready’…
shaken voices sighed…
‘Extra concern ,extra tenderness and extra warmth, needed
You may have to wait the life time to see the reasons with your eyes
Its worth waiting for a miracle.
Because, God’s special baby is sooner will be in your arms’
Doctor’s emphasizing words echoed…
Days of breathless hopes flying in a spur of the moment,
Beautiful eyes,pink skin,little more speciality,
a little wonderland you are..
God’s dearest little angel , gifted to us, ensuring we can take care of..
Daddy’s and mommy’s little gem
We welcome you to the world,
there would be all years of struggle
But its always worth waiting for a happy miracle,
walking towards the horizon looking at the sunset of glory,
Because we were counting fingers to see your lovely face,
Now that you are here,
making mommy and daddy closer than ever.
And, that vow of love will make you the luckiest baby in the humankind….
THE RUINS OF LIFE
I sat silently listening to silence
Reflecting on how good life could have been but it isn’t
Reminiscing on how good it was before it all happened; life ceased to be fair
Realising how bad it is now and how worse it is getting
Thinking on how possible it is that life could still be restored to normalcy
Planning on how to prevent it from worsening towards the worst road
In all and all after the deep thoughts; I only see the ruins of life staring at me.
Woke up from sleep and felt like I dreamt of the end of the earth
Everything seemed so real; I have some bruises still in me
Looking so confused as I just realized that I have woken up in a new place
A better view in the mirror revealed more of me than I remember
I became so frightened that I so shouted and something happened
The echoes of my voice shouted back at me louder
Just then, I realized; I am the only one left in this ruin.
I thought there was hope until I saw hope running for his life safety
Then all became hopeless; the world is ruined and the ruin is the world
What is left of the ruin can’t be grasped; there seems to be no recovery
Women are faithly praying; men are fately striving hard
A quest of bringing life to order; a wish of normality
The hope of saving life from death and life from itself
The ruin destroyed life; all left now is the destruction of life...
Lordvip September, 2013.
This year will continue the worsening war
For the reader of this very poem
The media spoon-feeds sex and gore
To assure a desensitized, brainless syndrome
Leaving sheepy minds to wander and roam
As the sheep do roam, the wolves never stop
They keep the sheep dumb so they might eat them up
But the wolves are hiding in the midst of the chop
If we, sheep stay numb, their plan will develop
One step closer to the Anti-Christ worship
This war is one that is on your spirit
Evil will take anyone that is willing
Learn what is virtuous and what is illicit
Seek the Truth among all the shrilling
This year could be your last one living
We are born into a Utopian world where everything lives and let lives
Politeness and manners exist as society never lets sieve
We learn to live with our neighbours amidst colours that nature has born
Living well into our tomorrows without the fear of being war-torn
Prejudice has never been heard whilst cussing never nears our ears
To walk our streets at whenever, over our shoulder you will never fear, fears
When we are born into a Utopian world where everything lives and let lives
The reason this can all come about, is purely because everyone gives
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
We are born from a fallopian world where reasons dictate how we live
Politeness and manner exist, sadly society has allowed them to sieve
Many learn to live with their neighbours amidst colours of nature born
Some live into their tomorrows, many enter the doors of war-torn
Prejudice appears to be worsening, cussing appears the norm
Many are scared to walk our streets as many out there have form
When we are born from the fallopian world where reasons dictate how we live
We don't enter what we hope is Utopia, many take and rarely give
Wild
windy weather
whipping white water
Warning: worsening waves working
west
There's an assumption that torment
was invented by Dante for his Inferno,
it's actually a kind of obsession that
we ourselves battle with like Othello!
Some of us show it in laughter, others
in anger: which one do you act upon?
I like the ones who jump up and down,
thinking they are performing clowns!
Torment is also the need to get one's attention,
how frustrating it is when all fails expectation!
It's another form of calamity worsening things...
and spinning in a whirlwind, we break in tears!
Another form of torment was my relentless envy
towards others wealthier than me, but not happy;
and not being rich, I couldn't brag about anything...
even luck deserted me, my world was collapsing!
I've stopped tormenting myself about my material needs
by obliterating insanity, apologizing and making amends;
I saw a diverse image of myself in a mirror of stark reality,
realizing that fate didn't depend on stars, it was absurdity!
The gods’ privilege is never to die,
the men’s tragedy is most die
at some point in time of their life’s cycle.
The gods’ tragedy is gods can never die,
the men’s privilege is to die when time comes.
Because of her beauty and a handful of dust she held in her palm
she won god’s favor and was granted the privilege to live forever,
nonetheless, it turned into misery to suffer forever,
she,(1) therefore, wrote on a golden leaf, “I want to die.”
The wish of a crafty king,(2) who is to roll a rock to the top of hill
over and over under god’s harsh punishment, is to let the rock down and die rather than to undergo eternal life’s never ending toil.
The agony of the god who descended to the earth,
because he wanted to share the warmth of the bonfire(3)
kept exclusively for gods to sit encircle it and enjoy,
with the men he love was he couldn’t die.
Whether it’s right or wrong, because he stole the fire,
he is chained to a rock at the mountain standing in the edge
of the world, incurring the ridicule of an ill-bred god(4)
who frequently comes in and out the thieves’ den
to plot together another theft from another victim they chose.
His liver is pecked by a fierce eagle every morning;
hence it would be better for him not to see the ever renewing
sun rise from other side of the mountain.
Although it’s miserable to suffer forever
because he cannot die, it’s far worse to see men’s betrayal.
Ungrateful men’s avarice, instead of co-existence in peace
they kill each other, oppress weak to hold power,
use the fire as the weapon of massacre.
Every morning with renewing sun
he has to endure worsening pain though,
he won’t understand what the desperate mean,
because he is a god.
Although he may able to bear excruciating pain,
he couldn’t endure men’s betrayal.
The mountain collapses, the chain breaks off.(5)
1. Cummaean Sibyl. 2. Sisyphus. 3. Prometheus. 4. Hermes. 5. Aeschylus. tr. Mueller, Carl R. Prometheus bound, last line (Pandemonium. The mountain collapses.) q.v. Bulfinch’s Mythology, Prometheus, pp. 939-40.
Villanelle: Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture
Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture
No eagle first takes the plunge without daring demon death
Yet mindless mistakes make us the picture of caricature
Make just one mistake a day in the year and collect torture
Shut the day out alone in shell and court worsening health
Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture
Could the straying baby elephant avoid instant capture
From the pride of lions stalking in frenzied stealth
Yet mindless mistakes make us the picture of caricature
What original sin smacks not of the mistake of rapture
Where the hapless heart flounders in Adam’s gasping breath
Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture
Were not the juicy fruits Eve bore the objects of rapture
What did she promise more than the pulpiness of wealth
Yet mindless mistakes make us the picture of caricature
Human error tosses our lives into the churning of culture
Err not and the lives we lead lead us into the noose’s wreath
Even childhood teenage nurture stops not the rupture
Yet mindless mistakes make us the picture of caricature
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
The crisp-cut, full moon hung high in the sky,
Staring down upon him like a demon eye.
Through the foliage a column of moonbeam fell,
Pinning him in its center as a scream did expel,
Reverberating and echoing like a tolling bell.
Unknowing if it came from him or another,
He stood stock still, repressing a shudder.
At that moment on the outer edges of his sight
City light filtered through the trees like blight on the night,
Neither bettering or worsening his situation, place nor plight.
Forever followed by a malevolent being,
One so inconspicuous, rendering others unseeing.
Fear frozen, he listened, felt and silently stood,
Unable to tread and thread through the wood;
Though, with its open passage, anyone could.
Desolation and depression then danced in his head
Like the dust motes within the moonshine overhead;
Their swirl and twirl did hypnotized and hinder
Bringing forth his dark, death harbinger,
One composed of an inner specter.
Since flight proved futile, his pursuer closer than his heel,
He abruptly decided to embrace the ground and kneel.
Within his consciousness there was a drastic upheaval;
A sudden exhumation of pure, long-dead evil.
The metamorphosis complete; purity lost the fight.
He then strolled down toward the city light.
The beginning is the best rhyming
Holding hands, never parting
Talking of the future, always smilling
Making sound of music, always humming
Those picnic park days, always vacationing
Forever and Forever, to the honeymoon
Then the second stanza, no more laughter
Time moves slowly, it staggers
There are more hiccups, the pain only leaves tatters
Goodbyes take over, what happened to lets get together?
And the hangover of the day after, only shatters
Forever and Forever, dying faster
Then comes the 3rd stanza, issues still floating
It's like the third year of marriage, voices are roaring
Questions come down like torrential rains,....falling
A state of confusion, only worsening
The future becomes a target, a lot of regretting
Forever and Forever, how do you find yourself in this setting?
Forever and Forever, no more