Dulls Poems | Examples

Afterglow

We are light and noise when we are together,
A world of shared laughter, forgetting the weather.
Your presence is sunlight, a warm, golden glow,
Where the smiles on our faces have nowhere to go.

The jokes and the stories, the carefree embrace,
Leave no room for shadows or sorrow to trace.
For hours, we exist in a bright, vivid hue,
Two lives intersecting, feeling brand new.

But then comes the moment, the quiet goodbye,
A flicker of doubt in the back of my eye.
And as you turn homeward and fade from my sight,
The vibrant world dulls, losing all of its light.

The echo of laughter still rings in the air,
A ghost of the happiness we used to share.
The world grows more silent, the colors grow dim,
Like a lighthouse that flickers and fades at the rim.

The feeling unwinds like a thread wearing thin,
Leaving an absence where you once had been.
The memory is held, a comfort, a pain,
While waiting for the moment to be bright again.

Reflection

Tackling a slick problem like D’Alembert’s paradox— 
a cylinder set in motion, destined to roll on and on— 
My fresh numerical method spoke in the same voice, 
but sparked sharp debate—someone blamed me for ignorance. 
Until a quip cracked the tension: “D’Alembert’s paradox doesn’t account for lubrication.” 

Truths can slice deep, sharper than we expect, 
Yet a wry smile, a joke, can transmute iron into gold. 
Humor doesn’t erase the sting—it dulls the edge, 
revealing strength when despair weighs us down. 

A sense of humor is our forged armor: 
a spark of joy in the heart, a reluctant laugh on the lips— 
it signals someone who grasps life's brittle elegance. 
A gentle jest softens the hardest truths, 
shading overwhelming realities with grace. 

When wit stands as a stronghold, 
even bitter truths echo with less sting. 
You don’t flee reality—you greet it with a grin— 
and in that greeting, you find the courage to begin again.

Keep The Faith

It's that color in the sky of black and white 
A faded dull color like dynamite 
Remnants of fireworks on display 
That dulls the ground where their ashes lay 
But soon the wind will blow them away

anatomy of hate

I take the blade
like a sculptor takes his chisel—
not for art,
but for erasure.

Skin is too quiet.
It wears my face like a mask I never chose.
So I slice,
deep enough to silence it,
to watch it speak in red.

Each cut a sentence.
Each bruise a thought I couldn't hold.
I dig through muscle and memory
trying to find what part of me
deserves forgiveness—
but all I find is rot.

Nails tear at the surface
when the blade dulls.
Teeth, fists, anything
to feel my hatred echo
through blood.

This is not performance.
This is penance.
This is punishment for waking up
in a body I never asked for.

They say:
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
As if it’s hurt.
As if it’s not relief
to open myself
and let the poison breathe.

I mutilate
because I can’t kill
what’s inside.
So I tear down the walls
again
and again
and again.

Not to die—
but to make the pain visible.
To show the world
what it did to me.

To make it real.
To make me real.
If only for a moment
before the blood dries
and the shame returns
wearing my name like a crown.

Therapy

Pull the shades
Dim the lights
Hear the snores
No response
Just the crickets
My art dulls you? 
It's my therapy

Peace of Mind

Let the words of my mouth fall silent
To listen to my beating heart
Then will I be most still and content
In rhythm with nature's warm art

To still the noise which dulls reflection
Brings closer  the meaning of life
And prompts  the deepest meditation
Saving us all from petty strife

It is in that calm  we come close to peace
Safe from the stress around us all
Our souls relax,our troubles cease
Only then do we understand our fall

Far from the madding crowd we must stray
If contentment is to come our way

Critics

(2-4-6 syllables). 

Seagulls,
Carping, such dulls,
A peaceful smiling lulls.

Let a thousand flowers bloom

‘Pon taxpayers a tad more trust, 
On tax kitty a tad less lust, 
Tax that dulls no young dream,
Gathers cream just from brim, 
Tax too shy to assume, 
Lets thousand flowers bloom,
A tax is no broom to clean dust.
_______________________ 
Happenings |04.05 2015, revised February 2025| 
Not that the greed of the governments would let them heed to this unwanted advice. But this ditty is still hopeful, may in case….Wish, it reminds them of what WB Yeats once said: ‘Tread softly because you tread on my dreams'…. First written in 2015, ten years later the ditty is still hopeful.

Untitled

‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be; for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.’
Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3 by Shakespeare

That $100 you wanted to borrow~
Forget it, I don’t want my edge dulled!!!!!

Voices Unbound

Written: November 24, 2024, For Contest, Sponsored by: Janis Medders Tobechi

                        _________________________

When darkness creeps on this erratic land,
The weeping of souls trapped in wiry chains.
Tyranny reigns, and hope slips from our hands,
While quiet dulls the echoes of their pains. 

The streets are filled with whispers of despair,  
As dreams are crushed beneath the weight of fear.  
Yet bold hearts rise, determined to declare,  
The truth that must be heard, though none may hear.  

 Shadows drift in every crevice, so wide,
Yet light yields, like a flicker in the night.
For those who resist the increasing tide,
Will fight for fairness supported by right. 

So let us join our voices, fierce and strong,  
And weave a world where all of us belong.

Can you even imagine the pain?

Can you even imagine the pain, 
That greets me in the morn',
The pain that trickles down my face, 
The pain that makes my soul worn?

The pain that interrupts my sleep, 
The pain that dulls my eyes, 
Can you even imagine the pain, 
The pain you don't recognize?

Can you even imagine the pain,
That breaks my heart in two, 
The pain that forces my head down, 
The pain that hides from view?

The pain that steals my smile, 
The pain that blocks my throat, 
Can you even imagine the pain,
The pain that makes me float?

The Depths of Providence

THE DEPTHS OF PROVIDENCE

When Providence delays, don't lose your way
For God arrives with grandeur, come what may
Big dreams need persistent patience like sumptuous stew
Lest complacency dulls the heart anew.4

Dig deep, dear seeker, like a miner's plight
Unearth the treasures hidden from plain sight
Not like the grave diggers who start from above,
Nor gold diggers, who chase fleeting, shallow love8

For wisdom lies in depths, where few dare roam
And character is forged, like tempered foam.
The eye is deceived and wealth's allure is brief
But the soul's riches grow in patience and relief.¹²

Let your roots grow strong like the ancient trees
And trust the timing of destiny's divine breeze,
For when God comes, it's big, it's bold, it's grand,
Rewarding the faithful with an outstretched hand.¹6


VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes 
Copyright ©?26th October 2024.

Aegean Sea

The sea never dulls me; it lulls, calms and relaxes me.
It sends me into a trance, like when I dance, in a state of peace.
In stillness, I feel free, serene, glee; yet, aware of things I hear and see.

The Aegean Sea cruise in Turkey rendered spectacular views, while we
were amused and bemused by our guide with a big smile with Greece
in Europe and Turkey in Asia with glory of each nation and story of the sea.

In Thera, stood, gazed at the moon’s glow on the blue  hue of the sea,
at the hotel’s own beach, talked how our fun in the sun tour would cease.
Sunshine made blue domes glistened and the sea clear blue, a must see!

Sharply fading away to nothing

Sight, sound, feelings converge, to point sublime,
Until what once was so, is barely there.
As last gasp grasp exhales slip-away time,
Ear, eye strain to catch last glimmer of care.

Fleeting touch lost, dulls to memory bliss,
As soft caress on fingertip so light.
Begs the mind's grip to grasp what senses miss,
As feelings slip into cold heartless night.

You strain to catch the last requiem note.
The faintest whisper of a distant call,
Echoing faint, each refrain more remote,
Straining to be heard, memory's recall.

The decline to vanishing point so sharp,
It cuts to the quick of grip on cliff's scarp,

In Ragged Breaths

“When the curtain drops, should we not applaud” ~ by poet
 
age wrinkles the face of youth
and dulls its eyes~
in no time, Death is at my door
a shadow of a shadow...
my ears pretend not to hear
His approach
gasping in ragged breaths ~
His nails
scraping against old bones
Death drinks my tears

• Short Dulls Poems
• Famous Dulls Poems
• Best Dulls Poems
• Read Dulls Poems
• Long Dulls Poems
• Dulls Quotes