Encroaches Poems | Examples

Oblivious To Oblivion

I stand where silence threatens to consume,
The dark encroaches, hungering for claim,
Yet still I walk, unflinching in the gloom,
Unbent, unbroken, nameless though my name.

Oblivion waits with patient, endless hand,
Its shadows whisper promises of peace,
But I will not bow down to shifting sand,
Nor trade my breath for chains of sweet release.

The void may laugh, the stars may turn to dust,
The years may scatter like a broken flame,
But in my veins endures a stubborn trust,
A will no darkness ever yet could tame.

Though night is vast, and all is swept away,
I scorn the end, and claim my right to stay.

Toxic

Boys will be boys, should we change our approaches?
It invades our society, infesting like cockroaches.
Is it something that we unfairly blame on our coaches?
Or should we instead stop this before it encroaches?

Is it time to call time on this self-destructive trait?
Something we excuse with ‘it’s only banter mate’.
Instead, should we consider our words and our deeds?
Humility, equity, kindness, what we need to succeed.

Bad Habit

It hides deep within us,  
A stranger lurking behind a veil,
It emerges at will, seizing the moment,  
We become mere puppets on strings.  
It’s the night that encroaches upon the day,  
A dusk that awakens its hidden elements.


December 27, 2024.

In Twilight's Shadows

My shadow grew longer as the sun bid me 'farewell.'  
Beneath my rowan tree in dour thoughts, I shall dwell. 
I curse life for her heartless schemes  
for now shattered and frayed, are my dreams.
I become eager to touch the breast of twilight  
as fog encroaches to shield me in the shadows of night.                                   
Do not pity the gasp of my last breath 
for then we'll both feel the agonizing misery of my death.
Pity is not an emotion in which I choose to wallow,
though I choke on the edge of anguish, a scream I swallow.     


Poems in order of their appearance:

Radiance of Sunset
Soft Murmurings
A Vision in My Dreams
Unraveled Seams of Frayed Dreams
To Touch the Breast of Twilight
A Death Never Mourned
I've Not Yet Said Farewell
A Heart Torn in Half
When the Sun Drowns in the Sea
On the Edge of Anguish

The Christmas Room

It lay
 halfway down the hall,
 once the spare bedroom styled
where out of state family once sprawled,
 for a while.

Grown now,
 two states away
 with families of their own
all too busy for a visit these days
 back home.

My niece once remarked
 that the room is pervaded
 by remnants of Christmas collectibles parked
in dusted positions faded
 for my heart's memorialized condition sparked.

Herein displayed
 the many gifts they gave
 so many Santa and Angel figurines
Baby Jesus on parade
 in happier masquerades once seen.

As the season approaches
 with every possibility of time recalled
 the past encroaches
in the hopes and dreams, we still applaud
 the sanctuary of the Christmas Room.

Whispers of Autumn

The amber leaves descend in swirling grace,
Beneath the skies that fade from blue to gray,
They dance upon the wind, a soft embrace,
As autumn steals the warmth of summer’s day.
The trees stand tall, though skies may weep and sway.
With every gust, the branches bow and tease,
Their whispered secrets carried on the breeze,
A fleeting glimpse of life as seasons blend.
The cold encroaches, yet the heart’s at ease,
For beauty lingers in the air they send.

A Death Never Mourned

On the outskirts of a long-abandoned country town
beyond the crumbling headstones and elmwood trees
is mounted a dark dismal figure of what used to be
a scarecrow whose limbs flail in Autumn's breeze

Hung as if crucified, his death was never mourned
The creature decayed in the midst of a barren field
Fallow lies the ground he once so boldly protected
Nigh on twenty years since wheat crops gave yield

Poor beast, with innards of grayed moss and twigs
Tenebrous, the moldy growth on his stygian face
as fog encroaches to shield me in the shadows of night
He's a monolith of death, staked in this cursed place

Darkness saturates the clouds and shrouds the moon
Comes the North wind, and a caw... caw... cawing sound
A murder of crows take flight over the wretched scene
Where once reigned a Sovreign who was never crowned

Golden Days Take On a Gray Hue

She brushes her long silky tresses,
smiling at her beautiful reflection.
A closet full of jewels and dresses.
Everything about her is perfection.

Physical splendor and material wealth
fades with age and crumbles in time.
Growing old erodes a person's health,
a bane once we've past our prime.

Spring lasts but a short tender season.
We are not renewed like buds or a leaf.
Winter encroaches in an act of treason,
we're suddenly old, consumed with grief.

Tarnished becomes the crown we wore
in days of our youth when life was new.
But the clock ticks and we cannot ignore
our golden days have taken on a gray hue.


February 24, 2023
Inspired by Robert Frosts' Nothing Gold Can Stay Contest
Sponsored by JCB Brul

Persecution

In the land of Armenia, Christians face death each day
The Land of Azerbajan, encroaches and causes affray
A line of troops however hold, the opposing sides at bay
It suprised  my mind to know (they are not from un or USA.'

The Fifth Season

A season out of the ordinary, 
A season beyond the sculptured,
Disarray in the elements of nature, 
Chaos in time and space.

Turbulence pervades the climate,
There's a disruption in the sequence of nature,
Twilight encroaches on the day,
Uncertainty looms over the horizon.

Humans seek a solution,
They search for an escape route,
Freedom from the shackles of a deviant season, 
A way out from the tendrils of a dark continuum.

Mystery comes out of its chamber,
The phantom unveils itself,
Humans are burdened by an unbalanced system, 
They’re haunted by their negligence.



November 12, 2022.
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 20 Poetry Contest,
Mark Toney.

The Aftermath

What I allow,
What I brood over,
What I give freeway,
This tender shoot,
Green and fragile,
Sprouting,
Becomes a huge tree,
Wide girth,
Thick branches,
These spread in 
different cardinal directions,
Forming a gigantic canopy,
This infiltrates my sane thoughts,
This encroaches on my tranquil flow,
Dark and murky beneath the surface,
I wrestle with my thoughts,
I battle with my mind,
It’s taking every ounce of strength,
I’m under its weight, 
I provided the fertile ground.



May 3, 2022.

How To Ride a Bike

I read that book
When I was way to young
To understand
Its intricacies
The utter 
Humanness
Of the plot
The re-read
Left me
In a state of
Panic'an 
Bileness
Shreds my emotions
Like your mouth is
Just before 
Being sick
The helplessness
As the two
Plea for help
From each other
As madness
Slowly encroaches
As they cannot
Make head nor tail 
Of life
And what 
It doesn’t offer

The missing piece
Was just them
On my book shelf
All this time
It
Just there
Made a thousand
Curtains fall
And I
Just sat
On the floor
In awe
Of what stood beyond
Those curtain falls

Funny
It was telling me
Something was coming
A couple of weeks 
Of intense signs
Except the last one
Before
The falls
I hadn’t
Seen that before
Yet I
Have lived it
I have spoken it
I experienced it
In three years’, time

This insight
To life
Leaves me
Felling flat
As I totally
Understand
The full humanism
Of our situation
And why
It all occurs

I stand 
Atop a cliff
Above
The total madness
It
Holds my hand
And speaks
‘You discovered how to walk
Its time
To teach you
How to ride a bike’

The Truth I Also a Lie

The truth is also a lie .

Falling through, 
an infinite pit of lies.
Absorbed into the, 
brightness of its, 
dark soul 
Tearing through the, 
the strings of hope, 
that we clutched to 

Darker it gets, 
flinging us further, 
away from the truth. 
We breathe in lies, 
because,
 we ran out of truth .
They keep resounding, 
their emptiness in ,
our eyes
And lose the speck of hope, 
in our hearts 

The sun, 
set never to rise again.
 Behind it's shadows, 
we lie to rely on lies, 
fed to us by, 
the cupidity of superiority 
We are blinded, 
by the brightness, 
of the darkness,
the lies reflect 

We keep falling, 
for lies, 
because we forget, 
we are the bottom, 
of the pit. 
The truth is shadowed, 
by the fear, 
that encroaches, 
on our courage 

We now mourn, 
the acrimonies of, 
the solemn lies deeper, 
than the truth left, 
in forlon hope, 
because, 
we look up to the lies. 

                                                 #Fred Ecabeth

Red and Black

I see the colours, black and red, 
They speak to me, this is what they said:

I am fire, burning so bright.
I am wisdom, like the night. 

I am birth, and I am death. 
But neither one of us does contest. 

For we are one, like sky and sun,
And we are separate, we’re undone. 

The Phoenix rising like the moon, 
Immortal being, it is immune. 

Darkness encroaches all around,
But light shall always be found.

Beyond the Prison Door

I try to explain-

I try to acknowledge-

As my voice approaches. 

They say it encroaches.

Let me be courageous and tell you all about it.

Do not listen to the pity in their stories about me. 

Listen to my story of how I not only escaped-

But also thrived.

As I learned to carve freedom for myself. 

Even after being corrupted in mind and spirit. 

It makes me sad. 

I know my punishment was inevitable. 

But it was also unnecessary. 

But I can shake it all off. 

Because that is a broken reality that I was able to abandon. 

But when they all abandon me…

Sigh. 

Another one. 

Another person I haven’t seen in a very long time. 

To who I am tempted to explain my disappearance. 

To acknowledge my strange presence. 

But of course I stay quiet in the end. 

As not to go against anyone’s sensibilities.

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