Despairing Poems | Examples

Imagination

I am lost in a desert without love
and I'm hoping for a sign from above. 
Oh, to be saved by a refreshing sup
of clear water from a cool loving cup,
but my chances look despairing and dire,  
and soon Lord, I believe I will expire. 
In front of me, I see an oasis,
but do my eyes deceive without basis?
Will its love be my long-lost salvation
or just my naive imagination?

The 'Whirlwind'

  
     Despairing of lightening her mood
        ten children her burden
        her life spent
          pushing and tugging 
          at a grindstone 
          of darkest despair

     She wrote of her misery
        to an elderly rabbi in Brooklyn

     He promptly wrote back
     words of encouragement 
        most unexpected advice
        
     “Attend every wedding in town
      Dance every dance
      Whirl like the wind
      Draw others into your circle”

     The desperate women did just that
     Her life changing by the week
       as she drew her new friends
       into her ever-widening circle

Abstain's Scion

As I wander across the arid dunes
Singing along, stringing along the ghastly glacial tunes
Sinking in the sands of debility
Saddled on a ride filled with sanguinity
Pondering, contemplating, despairing
Again, something is missing

Losing my touch as I bask in unfulfillment
Treasuring countless, meaningless sentiment
Albeit freedom-sworn, forever I am imprisoned
Locked behind those mourns of the damned
Days fly, and keep flying, freezing this ever old tale
The pained, unchanging currents never stopped, my heart too shall never settle

The nightly howls never halted, my eyes open unendingly

Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks

Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks (tongue in cheek peek at Dunedin's historic deluge)


"Stares upstairs..

Angels’ weeing above..

Be a good chap..

Show some love bruv..

Turn off the tap..

*****
No refuge from the subterfuge of the deluge..

Parched sandbag phalanxes..

Ranks marching in flanks..

Arching across busted banks..

Quaffing..scoffing..downpour spanks..

**********
Disbelief at the leisurely river Leith..

Despairing at it baring...glaring..teeth

Hurling....haring to unsheaf grief..

Mischief rashly unfurling…

Brashly whirling beneath.

Bawdry..tawdry thief...

******
Baffled..can't they see...squiffy South D in a jiffy downed..

Snaffled..drowned and raffled to the sea..

Don't they care...iffy white caps slaps..won't perhaps spare even sniffy..

Snooty..spiffy St Clair..

****
This rain ruckus.. pluvial palaver...

Whichever not whatever...

It totally sucks..

Planet forever in..

Fluvial flummoxed flux..

Tis rather lovely weather..

Though for Dunedin's ducks.."

Whenever Beliefs

Whenever beliefs are placed
above any worthless things
they affirm the essence of true ideals,
that sparked visions in people's minds.

Hold on those beliefs and assert feelings,
if brave men stand by them and resist
the menacing shouts of despairing ideas;
in such a brutal way: shouldn't we react?

Beliefs can express liberalism or conservatism,
they both define a character ready comfirm it
in deeds that opponents them infused with alruism;
do you divulge them with brashness or intellect? 

Some wealthy men gave everything to the needy and hopeless,.
they lived a humble life renouncing to all comforting luxuries;
who comes to mind if notTostoi who saw many human miseries?
His beilef reiforced the existance of faith in acts of kindness.

HYACINTH HANDS

 Hyacinth Hands

Mother, ego-cracker, birthed an embodiment of freedom plaited with slavery 
petunia planter, marjoram with Malay curry and rice, yet scarcity her best performance when hunger a primary protagonist 
my leap into Sovereignty depended on unraveling karmic bonds binding us through lifetimes, countless ages, sotto scenarios 
Piscean, she scaly presented the toughest tests with hyacinth hands, only an embattled Heart would accede to 

her non-relinquishing of my spinal cord nerves entwined with hers, she decorated with wondrous wild animal decoupage vases
to despairing detach from plundering pain, each principal pleasure she designed with subtle oomph, unconscious sophistication 

my divinity would have back burned in futuristic coliseums had she not been Mother of trialing pegs and variegated embroidery cotton

Daffodils

It's the 20th March again, 
The clouds can't hold crystals to rain.

The old well that dwells in woods,
Peacefully humming all broods.

Turning up the level of fears,
Filling itself again with  bitter tears.

Echos of despairing souls that reside,
wretched air that spreads deep in void.

Yet, trying to bury all demons that swells,
And finds a blooming self in gleeful daffodils.

policy writers writing? wrong

journalist hours visit policy budget for all night viability of crime
the next debate was done
uncovering secrets of privacy violations is a job
violating pricacy of secret places we don't no well enough
is a policy writers wrong
for not being elsewhere or otherwise employed at the moment
all sorts of want ads are always awaiting the newspaper reader for innovative opportunity and adventure

back in the california worlds of different people
no questions are ready for the debate
infinite journalist objectives still the fix of debate
fact checking and rumination
all depressing and emotional ruin a despairing lust for life type of loser could want
endless hours of caffeine religion and madness
hard earned madness dealing with perception
too much options in the hidden dictionary lands of opinion pieces
and the like, go for broke and attempt living on a share of a dollar and a quarter in a lifetime
marching within a soul-less abbreviation of the subway ride to dinner, missing every chance to date the thing thats trendy. thats the malicious code of love i live with
#careermoves

February Gray

February Gray


The weather and my mood, dismal as KING 5’s Headline News 
reports of politics, war and a cold rain forecast for tomorrow,
makes me take a break from TV or staring out the window  
at gray Seattle skies to take a walk down on the waterfront.

Only 5PM, yet pier 62 dock lights are already on, pale and heatless
halos of dimness in the hard as iron air slowing everything down.
Dark waves caress the seawall, rolling rhythms of shushing silence 
murmuring me to wonder, When was the last time we whispered?

Suddenly, as if a dream could control weather, the sky brightens.
Beams of soft sunlight, glowing rays from a blue lip on the horizon, 
radiate a warmth felt on my face. I smile for the first time this day,
as wet forecasts and despairing news recede with the setting sun.

The Echo Returns Not

When driving in Colorado or Nevada, 
where twilight crimson rays on canyons burn, 
into ancient layers of blood red strata -
on crooked roads, don't take the wrong turn.

They say, in these parts, a lonesome cowman's spirit 
every evening returns
to this despairing place or somewhere near it,
just as the blazing sun adjourns.

For a century his heart was laden,
since his proposal was coldly spurned
by a cruel, but lovely maiden;
and since then his heart has yearned.

The canyon's winds can chill you to the core - 
the doleful moan that will not learn,
but waits in vain, and hopelessly implores
an echo that will never return.

Some Might Say Plum Tuckered

Plum tuckered from the Polar Express,
off the rails and despairing of goody-
goody gumdrops and sweet words
that impresses many a poetic treat.

Preparation of Victorian sweets, via PC,
dreaded, droll, glorious and interminable.
I’m laughing at you, if you try, Sugar Plum.
You’ll turn colors as a longsuffering victim.

The SP Fairy, flew through the season
of peace and joy, only her tippy toes caring.
Not a fruitcake, herself, to be busy for days,
nor fuss and layer a dobosh torte for hours.

Unholy Ruminations

The opposite of life
is death

The polar opposite of eternal health
is terminal disease,
with unease perhaps lying/truthing
in-between timelessness
and untimely demise

So too,
my opposite of steady compassion
may be your unsettling dispassion

Elation v deflation
of all these oppositional answers above
as clear
as unclear appositional questings
below.

What is my opposite of suicide?
Self promotion?
Ego inflation?
Having all my consuming needs
fully answered?

Or 
maybe some uneasy questing
timeless mind
and spacious body
in-between healthy Now

And death-defying
death-denying
death-defining
death-despairing
death-despoiling
AnthroLove Here

Remains part of EarthLife There
whenever tomorrow comes
Now?

As Me curiously questioning
feels like our lonelier half
of We not yet 
finally answering?

What could appositionally rebalance
death's final answering Earth-climate
and life's open questioning Anthro-culture?

What is the opposite of lively ruminations
and deadly ideations?

What lies contentious truths contenting,
In-between EarthBody's discommunication 
desecrating death
and AnthroMind's sacred communion life?

O Mighty One

Why must disobedience always prevail
in our present days of perfection and self-greed?
Why can't we bow our heads above abhorrent Hell,
admire creation and discard false creed?

O Mighty one, erase all my sins of brash foolishness
so rampant in uncontrolled thoughts of wild moments:
when nothing could trouble the unconscious soul,
when freedom exceeded its will not to avoid a fall!  

Forgiving this son of yours, sobbing and despairing,
can bring him the consolation he has sought for too long;
can tears admonish that he's truthful and willing
to renounce all that made him a selfish being, not a king?

Are there hearts purer than gold, brighter than any sunrise light?
Nobody has ever been those except for sinless Christ,
everybody wants glory and if a few find it: its so short:
I seek no glory from men, only anchoring my boat in a safe port!

I'll follow you

The train fled through forlorn forests
Emerging on the stormy steppes
It crossed the raging ravine waters
Up the rugged crags it crept.

I was on that midnight journey  
Seeking you to join your cause  
I felt your honor and your yearning  
Your defiance of unjust laws

(chorus)
Your example was the spark  
And as long as you stay true  
The torch will light up in the dark  
And I'll follow you

Through the shadows of the city  
I searched each alley, every street  
Whispers told of your bravery  
How you stood, did not retreat

Near dawn, I finally found you  
Eyes aflame with steadfast fire  
You said, "The old ways can yet renew"  
"To real freedom we shall aspire."

(chorus)
Your example was the spark  
And as long as you stay true  
The flames will rise within the dark  
And I'll follow you

(bridge)
We'll gather the despairing souls  
Ignite the hope that once was lost  
We'll strive to reach our righteous goals  
No matter what the cost

We'll cut the tentacles of the beast
We'll tear the web that entangles all
See the silver sunlight in the east
They will rise, hear freedom's call.

Ex on the beach

I watch Ex on the Beach - a fun TV  show ,
 Young folks trying to make a love connection,
Two girls  tested -not a match. for one -oh no! 
A feast of love -the players get affection,
The folks  head  in a twirl. what a way to go,
From what I see -tough to make a selection,
An onlooker Dragon Dan showed on the scene,
He wished to join in-if ya know what I mean. 

I saw the eyes of Dragon Dan ,staring,
His eyes a flame -reddish yellow like fire,
As a player he would be a red herring,
Dragon Dan watches...  his mind filled with ire,
And signed the pact as a watcher... despairing,
And saw them making out ;started to perspire,
He could not take the job  and so he quit,
The show were angry as Hell,they took a fit!

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