Callously Poems | Examples

SHROUDED LIGHT

Callously torn in fragile shreds,
I sheepishly snuggle in cozy threads.

Succinctly laced, the cactus leans -
Hope nestled amidst it's thorned scenes. 

To bittersweet melodies, in trance, 
A medley plays, with puppets dance. 

Every errand, a gallop in the meadows wide, 
Yet petals of mahogany dews reside. 

Am I still alive, or lost in posthumous hues?
A sombre ballet, unfolding in view.

Wandering wondering

Once as outlook seemed demeaning
I pondered life’s varied meaning
Only one thing I wished to be gleaning
The simple answer of why

I was near full to bursting a seam
Then as if by heavenly beam
The answer was great to a dream
One that made me feel as if to fly

See, as I wandered the day
There on the road lay
Some sort of fey
Whose life came to a stop

My mind seemed to tarry
And though understanding may vary
I think it’s kinda scary
That even a fey can flop

This answer a divine source must have sent
That from above must have lent
A sight of a precious life callously rent
An oh so powerful truth

Now some might consider this a creation of the mind
For me this is how I the excellent answer find
In truth the answer isn’t always oddly signed
The truth is actually oh so common

The fact is that great and small
The most precious is lost to the call
None are immune from passing that wall
Why worry about death even when life is freshest?

WITHOUT A CONSCIENCE

WITHOUT A CONSCIENCE 

Are we without godly conscience... 
if I'm not mistaken,

Another human life 
was tragically taken.

There's no justice in murder, 
not even karma so cruel, 

For a death sentence decided, 
without a judge's rule.

Yes, we've been oppressed 
A murderer became obsessed 
by the system's"Deny, Defend, and Depose,"

Let not our anger be displaced, 
our right for justice erased.
though from our afflictions a killer arose

Let not a single satisfaction 
from just one man's appease,

Become a viral infection 
of his vicious disease.

Without conscience he pulled a trigger, 
so callously cold,

Let not this kind of evil
be the removal of our souls.

Shimmers in the void

Space seems motionless
but for those who know the truth,
it shimmers, yearning for love.

Hearts callously squashed,
rise from mists assuring us,
injuries are forgiven.

Ordinary People

Ordinary People
.......................................
walking on the roads hurriedly,
to reach workplace indifferently,
to finish  pending work finally.,
saw a bleeding man callously,
looked at passing by people furiously,
and thought did my duty thoroughly.
The dying man could be wishing desparately,
to help him with a heart humanly.
What did he know,we have become possibly,
merciless than the reaper so grimly.
Have the time to take picture perfectly,
but not to lend the hand to help you readily.
Well ,could be anyone’s woman,child  or anyone potentially,
to be in a state and watched on helplessly. 
My status ranges from low to high endlessly,
and so does my education absolutely.
Do I care about these you silly,
am just like you ,ordinary people living casually,
unhinged,unperturbed ,going along slyly.
After all ,we are all people living so ordinarily.


Written  and finished on:21/9/24

GNRT THOUGHTS INDIGENOUSNESS

You may have noticed throughout our trip across this country
over every mountain, river and stream
as we’ve marveled at all her beauty
there’s been an underlying theme.

With every mile we drove…every step we walked
we quickly began to understand…
no matter where we go in this country
there is an indigenousness to the land.

Everywhere we traveled we found stories
of indigenous legends, of their cultures…of their giving
of those who were here long before we came to colonize 
and destroy their way of living

Across this country we have crossed innumerable indigenous remains
from Seattle, Washington all the way to Indian Harbor, Maine.

(In case you’re wondering…Indian Harbor…the last name that I dropped
was the original name of Corea, Maine…the last place that we stopped.)

And it saddens us to think how different our world would be
If it could have been designed…
with the indigenous knowledge, legends and folklore
we so callously left behind

There is sill hope for our country…we believe
still time to change…to understand
but to do this 
first…
we must stop…and listen
to the indigenousness of the land

Wounded Sigh

A wounded sigh, an expression evincing the pain of hurt,
A bawl in solitude, turbulence of inner emptiness stirs,
When emotions clamor, simmering in angst of regrets,
When mute demeanor, of injured breath, wistfully frets.

Soul desperately aches for a special someone to talk to,
Someone who understands the language of quietude,
Someone who can soothe the trauma, of life gone askew,
Someone who brings to fore, hope of tomorrow anew.

Laments of past echo, moaning upon meadows of life,
Reverberating in heartbreak of grief, bereft of promise,
To rehabilitate devastation of savage emotional storms,
As covenants, deemed eternal, hesitate in broken vows.

Wounded hearts now trace moments of love, sadly lost,
When loneliness dwells in nightmares of past forlorn,
When the abandoned pledges of forever, callously mock,
As muffled wail recalls, life of joy and love, that once was.

Sorrows now seek solace, yearning compassionate voice
To soothe tides of heartbreak, agitating lonesome mind,
As hopes of morrow rekindle in womb of promising night,
When smile-endearing, subjugates cry of wounded sigh.

The Bronzed coin Golden Championship Belt

Tjhe Cretans have centered there
intentions
made foly of the traditions
stood in the Pool of Rightousness
to drink the wines of endearment and affection
callously they decieve
for those who belive
and shall rub the ointments
of victory in there losses
Might the moon emcompass the
straddlers
to brring them into aligment with
Talus!
There they shall stand as men
before the God of Wrest
each seed sown
to bare the friut
the bark of the trees
to make the leather
the presious metals smelted
formed and trimmed with
the gem stones
Talus stand before me
that I have labored
and am Champion above all!
Talus recognize me attop all these men
that I am Champion of
Champion
on every coast
in every feild
to sell every conseccion
That I am recognized
to all men as best
before me no other
and after me the same
Champion
recognized by such adornments!

Ventriloquist

I am your ventriloquist dummy, and you use me however you want, I don’t even have the will to speak until you decide to talk
And then the only words that I am able to say, is whatever comes out of your lips as you place me there on your knee on display
You paint on my smile or else there wouldn’t be one there, and you have filled me up with cotton inside after you destroyed the vessel of what once resided in there 
You wanted me to obey you, and do as you say, so you found a way for this to be, and you made me just this way

I can’t disagree with you, I can’t even fight, I am at your mercy, your will, anytime of the day or night
When you want to make others smile you do it at my expense, and I have no say in the matter, but I am truly sick of it
I don’t wish to be your puppet that you masquerade around anymore, I want a life, a heart that can beat, so much more
Please just stop treating me like the dummy that you take me for, you’re the one calling the shots can’t you see these tears are real that pour

But you callously laugh as you wipe the wetness away, and you whisper into my ear that I am yours forever and always I shall do as you say.

Be the Flame of Compassion

Be the star that brightens someone’s dark sky,
Be the light that illuminates a gloomy night,
Be the flame of compassion to life gone awry,
Even if you don’t think your candle is bright.

Despair not in a world gripped in jaws of woe
For beyond hills of grief dwells halo of hope,
Be the spring that rises through wintry throe,
Even when struggling in laments hard to cope.

Be the forest that grows through ashes of fire,
Be the dream that assuages angst of nightmare,
Be the angel of goodwill when times are dire,
Even when fate, callously, ignores your prayer.

Be not pain of misery, be not voice of dismay,
From goals of life revered, you must not stray,
Wish not for anyone, horizons shrouded gray,
Even while a storm drenches your sunny day.

Stillborn

As I closed my door and lay down to sleep,
A poem came and violently knocked at my door.
Being quite late, I put a rein on my desire to admit it in
Even in my sleep I could hear the faint sound of a knock.

In the wee hours of the morn, as I sat up to house it,
Only scattered phrases and broken lines floated around.
A crazy excitement made me trap them in ink.
But nothing worthwhile showed up on the writing pad.

I found I had only violated the virginity of the paper.
After hours of spasmodic labor pain
What came out was a stillborn with no heart beats.
It lay limp before me and all excitement died down

It's still body, I found had closely resembled me. 
Something of me was there stamped on it.
How could I who had parented it,
Callously discard it in a dustbin?

So, I carefully stashed it away in a secret place.
Where no one’s prying eyes would ever fall over it!


April. 6. 2023

~ Placed Third~

Free Submission Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sotto Poet

Saddleworth Moor

Crossing the Pennines, rocky spine
Of the country running North South,
Following the motorway west 
From the Humber Estuary Mouth 
It always felt cloud bound whatever
The weather or the time of day
Stretching out on either side of
England’s highest  motorway.
Saddleworth Moor, place of ill fame 
It looks desolate and bare and bleak 
And I felt uneasy as I criss crossed it
Each Monday every single week .

It’s a place of pain and torture
Murder, loss and despair
The victims being young children ,
Callously buried out there .
Their graves unmarked 
On that unforgiving ground
At least one poor boy
Was never ever found.
The perpetrators taunted parents
By just refusing to tell,
Each enjoying their notoriety from
The safety of their prison cell.

Every Monday as I crossed it
I swear I felt pain and grief
And having crossed on return   
Swear I felt a sense of relief.
That already dark bleak place 
Earned a such a sinister fame.
Saddleworth Moor entered history
As a sinister  and haunted name.
In memory as I crossed over,
And I know this can’t be right,
But it never ever seemed 
To be bathed in sunlight.

Each Passing Cloud

Aimlessly wander veiled memories of yore
Each passing cloud subtly brings to fore
Recalling regrets, where laments agonize,
Thinking of you, searching forsaken skies,
Muting spent emotions of anguished eyes.

O how we rejoiced in blissful sunny days
When dawns arose on glinted arc ablaze
As golden beams pierced shrouded haze
Defying onslaught of darkened malaise
Intent on blotting zealous romantic phase.

Recalling ardent dreams with you I stroll
Where gleam of your smile brightens soul
As allure of amorous past feelings cajole
Emanating from desires heartbeats extol
In language of passion yesteryears scroll.

Every cloud etches effigy of love gone awry
Yet, thunder of stygian vibes fiercely I defy,
For return of clear skies in your longing I vie
Denouncing certitude hosting forlorn sigh,
Remorseful of ego that callously bid goodbye.

March 8, 2023
Placed 1st: Each Passing Cloud Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul

The Travellers

The Travellers.                                                                               The vagabond Cock on the Threshold's tree crowed as evil nights  furtively flee from sunrise, as church bell tolled, tolling for the travellers.                                                            Expectantly, they set fourth at dawn ,early enough                                     strutting down the river road, amidst valleys and Wuthering heights.                                                                                        They walked faster at noon, as sun shun very callously...withered all flowers. Weary and spent ,  heads bowed,  penitently, they stood before him.                                                 The church bell tolled again, tolling for every one. Earth to earth, Dust to dust.

Life's Treasures

The last drops of a drink
    crumbs of cake on a plate
  The olive in the martini
    lone blueberry left to fate

  Shan't we save them for posterity
    morsels and sips to treasure ~
  Or rather down them callously
    for the slightest second's pleasure

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