"...once...
up on a midnight dreary
while i pondered...weak, and weary...
over many an ancient volume of forgotten lore
suddenly there came a tapping as of someone gently rapping
someone gently tapping on my chamber door...only this and nothing more...."
ah...distinctly i [DO] remember...it was in a bleak december with the ghost of each dying ember
wrought upon the floor...only this and nothing more....(sorry man, but eddy really could tell stories.)
len
ORIGINALITY OF EFFECT
classical
cosmetic
simplicity
engaged
isolated
in QUESTIONS OF LIGHT
distinctly
faded
mis-understood
conventional
beginnings
so POSITIVELY ADMIRED
narrated
compassionate
personification
admired
allegorically
once upon a midnight dreary
while i pondered weak and weary....
over many an ancient volume of forgotten lore
suddenly there came a tapping
as of someone gently rapping...
tapping on my chamber door
t'is the wind and nothing more
ah....distinctly i remember it was
in the bleak december when each
dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor
len
Some days I’m living in panic
Panic like I cannot move
Panic like there are hot metal chains
wrapped tightly around my ribs
Trying to talk feels like breathing in smoke
On the verge of tears
And all I want is to curl up and cry
Until my eyes turn red
But I can’t because
I’m in school
And everyone will see how much
Of a fool I am
So I have to look like I’m ok
But I’m not
Because later that night
That night of the panic attack,
I got so close
I even made a plan
I planned to cut in groups of three
Cuz three is my comfort number
That day I chose 27 cuts
Because nine times three
Nine times I lacked the comfort I craved
I remember it distinctly
Nine times three
Cuz nine times I felt hurt that day
One I was in trouble, two I got yelled at,
Three I woke up late, four,I was called rude for talking
Five I’m so immature, six, I had extra chores,
Seven I couldn’t eat lunch, eight Alex hates me
And nine I hate myself and I don’t matter anymore
When I went to bed that night I was so scared
because I got so close to SH
I got so close this time
A wreath of melancholy clouds sigh
Sigh beneath the boundless sky
The mavis sings upon my heavy head
Of delusion love and memories embed
Ah' distinctly now I remember-
Your cold arms of dure November
Caressed the veins of crocus flower
And the mavis sang upon an odd hour
We forgot an agony in somnolent days
And the coldness in ember blaze
We loitered down the moonlit shadow
Till the edges of brazen meadow
These two hearts throbbed in coyness
In a myriad stars with such loveliness
With such loveliness you adore
But who have known its not evermore-
Whispers the naiad closer the rush of stream
To let go of her who wanders within a dream
But how with such loveliness I adore
Who I have known her forgotten lore
And I have seen her burning blush
With quite cooing of dove in gentle rush
While my breath lure in her hearts within
My dream carols and smelt her jasmine
This weary beats and my dreamy eyes
Remembers the melancholy cloud that sighs
If through each faith's distinctly
Wept out prayerfulness
For this inner wretchedness
Closer kneel should we.
Oud— your signature musk I remember.
Warmth and grounded, tame and woody,
Steep memories of wishes I'll never gather—
Cold cruel sillage, bright woodland, yours.
If— I adorn your musk I dismember.
Heavy and cold, wild and leaded,
Cruel words define the sins you waver
Bright stinging scent, damp crumbled, yours.
I never asked to adorn the scent of your sins
Yet, I got a dream— it wasn't what I wanted.
— Tears, sobbing, salty and heavy.
Low, evil— distinctly you
I'm waking up and rubbing two blinded eyes,
The crispness of the sweet-scented air in whimpering July
Rapidly spreads by a benevolent wind that pleases,
It allows me to discover by intent a sublime reality,
Which is the morning's picturesque beauty:
Does strong belief interfere with a sense of great friability?
Nature can be brutal or pleasant, and yet it can fascinate
Us, when it suddenly embraces each sense to compensate
For the discontent left by a dreamless and unrestful night;
What we hear amid those eerie shadows is the cry of a cricket!
I distinctly revoke such repulsing and unenthralling nights
As I wash their macabre images off with cold, running water;
Is a better day coming, prompting actions that don't falter?
Harm is done when pain is accepted and tomorrow frightens.
In this morning's picturesque beauty, I could lose myself
And wish that dreaming vainly detaches me from grief,
not seeing any delusional mirage on the journey to happiness;
I've expelled the vile demons that made me spew lies!
Good morning America.
Today, July 4, 2025, I looked out of my front window,
and at 6AM saw a most beautiful sky. Locked into
this eastern canopy was a very eye-catching
coloration, reminding me of the colors of the
American flag.
Yes, America, like our flag, it was red, white, and blue.
No, there were no stars and strips, but I could not help
but think heavily of you.
The grounds were lased with green grasses, and crops
of grain were heavily covered with dew. But the eastern
sky was very distinctly red, white, and blue.
America, this was a first for me in that I had never seen
such canopy colors and gave honoring thoughts of you
at the same time. It was indeed a momentous experience
for me.
And so, America, I close by saying, my heart and thoughts
are whispering warm prayers for you on this 4th of July.
I often gaze through Nana's broken window but today feels distinctly different as I watch the blackbirds pecking at the pears in the avocado trees. Nana harvested the finest ripe avocados and pears, their colors a lovely blend of dark burgundy and green, all from that old, timeworn tree.
Each year, we meticulously inspect every pear before packing them into a brown barrel. They were moist and delicious on the inside, so easy to peel—those exquisite, ripe pears.
Today, I am about to open the last marked box of Nana's belongings. Gently, I unwrap the final item, carefully enclosed in an old newspaper. It is her bread pan, the one with two handles, and I notice an old, burnt crumb lodged in one corner. A smile forms on my face, and I weep softly as I say,
"Hello to you too, Nana."
The cosmic conflict rages on
with battle lines distinctly drawn.
The good on one side is arrayed
Evil on the other parade.
Two forces battle for man’s mind
One to set free, and one to bind.
The good fights with means that are clean
While evil uses any means.
Within each mind the fight goes on
It starts the very day we’re born.
The evil side we’re prone to choose
So, most, the fight with evil lose.
Man was made for kinship with God
The evil side won him by fraud.
Friendship with God at first did sprout
Until evil injected doubt.
When evil yields its baleful fruit
The evil side blames God as brute.
Man’s blinded mind, thus harsher grows
‘Gainst God from whom, only good flows.
The crimes that blight man’s lofty dreams
and ruins his utopian schemes
reveal the nature of the fight
and makes him yearn for truth and right.
These virtues men will never find
While evil holds sway in their mind.
It's time men cease to play the fool,
Reject evil and let God rule.
Here I am at home on my own
listening to some great Mozart
while I put my pen to paper
today I will enjoy in no small part
This is a setting I truly enjoy
just little old me I singly see
all my good times in life
and in the future, I do foresee
A picture this is in my mind
so full of complete inner joy
something one can't explain
like in childhood loving a fav toy
Later after lunch read a book
one that stirs your heart so full
someone's life or maybe poetry
that brings real peace as a rule
This day is marked by joy
an inner peace so distinctly real
many like this I hope to spend
bow in God's presence to mark His seal
Rivers run from the corners of his eyes,
Heavy currents ramping over high cheeks.
No longer present is the stoic guise,
Evidence of a broken heart from deep within it leaks.
Windows of a beaten soul,
Once distinctly opaque.
Now, a heavy broken heart that's unwhole,
Barely standing is a man who has felt a heartquake.
This shall be my time capsule
To my future self
For when I’m reincarnated
It is my hope I will recognize
This poem as mine own
Similar to when the monks
Find the Dhali Llama
With objects that are distinctly his
Get a bamboo fife or shakuhachi
And play it to the four winds
North, south, east and west
Look to the clouds and inhale them
Gaze at the stars with a knowing that home
Is somewhere out there
Yet, feeling deeply that Earth
Is also now my home
Seek the Son of God, my original mission for being here
He is more than imaginary as some will lead you to believe
He is very real, and I had hoped to shake His hand
Only to find that He had died for me
And for you, my future self
Seek Him as the treasure at the end of the rainbow
And maybe, just maybe
Next time, this poem won’t be necessary
May 25 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Nehemiah 8-10
Key Verse – Nehemiah 8:8 So they read in the book in the law of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the reading.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO INSTRUCTS US
TO READ HIS LAW
Praise be to God for instructing us to read His law for our:
Direction according to His ways
Decisions around His will
Discretion by His Word
Delight with His worth
Drive for worship
Nehemiah 9:31 Praise be to the Lord for He is gracious and merciful:
Good in prompting us for high purpose
Great in propelling our heavenly pursuits
Glorious in pushing us toward holy perfection
Generous in pouring to us healthy-hoisted provisions
Guiding our progress with prosperity midst hope heartily
Nehemiah 10:29 Praise be to the Saviour for reminding us
to observe His commandments and to:
Stay in His security
Serve Him with steadfastness
Stand strong upon His Scriptures
Share salvation midst sincere soulwinning
Seek His shelter against shaky and sinking support. Amen!
May 25, 2024
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.