Dismaying Poems | Examples

Que Bellisima or You Are Beautiful

     
                          4/12/2025


      let us remember that we are spiritual beings,
      and see God’s design and plan in everything.

       with eternal gratitude at each golden dawning,
       find you not fretful, complaining and moaning.

        you add nothing to this day with your complaining,
        playing a ‘victim in life’ is a waste and is dismaying.
    
        mutiple rainbows  for us, are in the very making.
        do not destroy poet souls, just to enjoy the breaking!

Faith

faith
internal, intrinsic
beholding, believing, brightening
certainty, conviction, unknown, unfamiliar
debilitating, depressing, dismaying
external, extrinsic
fear

Our Fault To Halt Salt

when we became broke
grabbed throat and started to choke
then our feet would soak

water were spraying
wind blew and trees started swaying
times are dismaying

we started to seek
those things that people will speak
words which are unique

should stop using salt
be sure to bring to a halt
when it was our fault

Stayed and Played Then Sun Did Fade

we saw them playing
on right track are not staying
which was dismaying

in park we had stayed
became tired when we played
laid down in the shade

have remembered her
pretty and nice did occur
always knew for sure

not here anymore
she had gone out of the door
up her letter tore

she had skin so soft
am allergic and did cough
from straw in hay loft

Hate

Hate
In civilized quarters, an outrageous obscenity:
Unwashed, perishing pant
And, for real, a dismaying insanity,
When a hater heatedly rants
At his subject of unusual dislike,
Whom he would’ve loved to strike:
His heart hammering vessel –damaging beats,
His head contending with an ache a doctor treats.

With hate, nothing is normal any more,
Haters best action, an unsightly sore,
With glances that like dagger stab
And fast breathing that would air grab
And reflections on hundreds of things
United by Death with wings!

Hate is the firmest shutting
Of the outlet to delicate love
And trust me - mortifying hitting
Of a non owner of even one boxing glove.

Knowledge of enemy’s demolishing fate
And serial number on Satan’s punitive slate 
Comes with the Supreme Hate
Also, how long his success shall have to wait
Plus the exact date
Of the unlocking on his behalf of cemetery’s gate.

Adieu To Romance

Leaves hang limply from thirsty tree branches
   No breeze dares bestir them, foul is the air
The grass lies dying, a faded sere brown
   No bird his song warbles, flies thickly abound

Tired pups on streets lie, their tongues hanging out
   The sun cooks their fur, miserable drought
Empty the parks, no sounds of kids playing
   Rancid garbage piles up, its stench dismaying...

Affairs of the heart, they no longer flower
   Humidity drains all their vitals' power
While the sun burns lovers' walks by the beach
   The hazy sky's brutal---blood-sucking leech

The dog days of summer extinguish romance
   Unbearable heat just won't give it a chance


                 
                  Iambic Pentameter

Creative Spark

Bright flame to
	Fading ember
 Reservoir of
	Creative joy
Now depleted
	Brings the
Dim
	Dismaying 
Emptiness of
	Effete creativity
Disheartens
	Disenchants
The migrant
Soul of Striving
Artistry

Living On Borrowed Time

Living on Tulsa Time 
Oops Borrowed Time
Written: by Tom Wright
4/25/2018

As my body infrastructure has begun to crumble,
Time has slowed my steps and I’ve began to stumble.

Body parts have become worn and some were replaced,
And I must rely on memory when my past is retraced.

I’ve lived an active life and for that I now am paying,
Practically everything hurts which is quite dismaying.

It seems most of my body parts are in need of mending,
But, as a fighter I won’t quit, I’ll continue until my ending.

I’ve lived a blessed life, and deem myself, being endowed,
My invested life years are more than God ever vowed.*



* Psalm 90:10 K.J.V.
The days of our years are threescore years and ten;

Saying

5/3/17


Another painting 
I'm making and creating

Results and outcomes occasionally dismaying
Sometimes it goes without saying

Times of hardships
Through the tropics and arctics
As well as anywhere else, whether trailers, houses or apartments

No need for me to say it twice
Day and night
While we try to make it right
Or pay the price

Why should I say it again?
I'm not going to pretend
I know what happens in the end


It shall no longer be said
Or else it will quickly spread
And trend


Say no more
I know what it's like to be poor
Nothing but eggs, ramen or cans of albacore
Until I put in work and did a whole lot more
Continuing to score

By: Dalton Ogletree

Out Back To Check

Out Back To Check

Four Limericks in 30 minutes. Wow.
Check out my deck that became a wreck.

Walked out back to see what was on deck
When I looked around and then did check
There he was laying;
Appearance was dismaying;
Found Hespas who was a complete wreck.

Have you ever heard of looking like the 
wreck of the hespas before.

Natural Curiosity

Natural Curiosity

Do you wonder about the me on my inside
As you gaze at the me on my outside,
A counterpoint to those around us?

What expectations do you hold, in keeping with my
Wrinkled brow and silvering hair that I turn
Out not to meet…or fulfill to every degree?

Do I surprise you, amuse you, even amaze you,
Or am I perplexing, dismaying, disappointing, an
Enigma to be observed, but never admitted into your life?

What affronts do I cause you when your youthful
World collides with mine and I do not seem
To keep my proper station or decorum of maturity?

Do you speculate on what my eyes see, as
I look back at you, sometimes with affection,
Sometimes despair, perplexity or amused delight?

What understanding and insight do you have of the 
Me inside that sees as you see, forgetful of
Myself and all my foibles and marvellous imaginings?

Do you imagine how I might feel and what
I might think when I look back at you, myself 
Wondering the same about you?

Mutatis mutandis, I think and speculate as above,
And wonder whether we do live in different
Worlds, or are we really just the same.

Being a Dreamer

Being a dreamer is never boring,
	Its like a boat without its mooring,
You can pretend to be a fish,
	Swim a bit, laugh, act so childish,
Or you can fly to the nearest tower,
	Dig a hole and plant a flower.
When the moon is howling full,
	Pensive ideas make their pull,
Grinding, grueling, gritty grains
	Stenciled stuttering standing stains.
Eyes transfixed by things oblique,
	Ennui is only of and for the weak.
In rapid jests of poemy words,
	Vowels flutter like milky birds,
A leap of faith in corrupted phrases,
	The rhythm amiss like crooked faces.
You take an apple but taste a pear,
	You brush your teeth but get white hair,
It’s never boring like I said,
	A pickled world can’t raise its dead.
(Which methinks is kind of like saying:
	Signs and symptoms are always dismaying)
Play is a losers infinite no-end game,
	You draw some circles straight and same,
Make from the hip and cross a heart,
	Go figure out how, just promise to start.

It's Hard To Keep a Bulldog Down

Old Roxie is dead. She's gone to her bed
Near the drop-off where leaves are decaying.

Yet she rises again from that terrible fen
In a manner grotesque and dismaying.

The grave that we dug, although tidy and snug,
Was too shallow for her to be laying.

So the volatile gas that shot from her ass
(Excuse me for vulgarly saying)

Overexcited, spontaneously ignited
And created a monstrous spraying!

The guts and the hide were strewn far and wide,
Festooning the branches, displaying

Those rotting remains and even the brains
Of her corpse. The crows are buffeting!

There's no consolation for miscalculation,
No comforting words for allaying

Our grief and chagrin for committing the sin
Of the mess for which now we are paying.

Fluent

Speak to me
Nimble word-master,
Construct the images
You wish me to possess.
Be fluent in your authority
To command my thoughts,
Motivate this mortal
With your perpetual souvenirs.

Present deliberate challenges,
Enticing and fascinating,
So I may be authored
By your wisdom.
Expose your riches
In stirring tones;
No matter the cost,
I will pay.

Such is your ability
To heighten my experience,
Dear poet,
Dismaying in tremendous form
And awful honesty,
Until I have become
Your slave,
Spent, replete, and supplied.

I would be forever grateful
If you’d only lend me
A breadth of your time,
Ripening my observations.
Speak to me
Sweet word-master,
And I’ll be the resolution
To your question.

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