Enshrouding Poems | Examples

Heat Stained Imayo

It’s always those who can’t spell, abracadabra;
They try to darken the Sun, enshrouding the world;
Hiding that midwinter spark, as hope lights a match;
Heat stained cheeks of the night sky, there’s no going back.

Midst of a Mist

blurred in midst of a mist
deep, dark woods
in diaphanous, thick, heavy air
enshrouding shrubs and trees
in translucent pearlescent smog.
spooky outlined murky shapes
look surreal, like white ghosts.

I am afraid to take uncertain steps
in unseen fear of stumbling.
Shortsighted vision does not foresee 
a golden sunshine in the arcane paths
burgeoning a new silver dawn ahead
with welcome notes of  birdsongs.

I choose to stay lost forever...
in midst of my comfortable mist zone.

Revenant

Dank
darkness
was always
settled around.
It was all I knew
of the near universe.
Stale, stifling, suffocating
in my broken and spilt trundle
leaving bitter, morbidly clammy
earth enshrouding my body and being.

A crack in the soil, or in time perhaps.
Slivers of light split the filthy floor,
crawled over ornate catafalque,
and continued its approach,
like winter's blinding ice,
to my exposed bones.
Warming flesh grew
and coursed with
new - life
blood.

Hide and Seek

hide
               covert, obscure
  evading, concealing, enshrouding
 undercover, shelter, search, request
      desiring, attaining, obtaining
                    coax, woo
                       seek

In the Chilly Month of December

In The Chilly Month of December

And so comes Winter, after late Fall,
Where from ashen skies of low-lying clouds,
Snowflakes fall enshrouding the town
And piling on people tramping around,
Who are out and about embracing nature,
In the chilly month of December.

Snow fills footprints extinguishing traces
Of icy stares glinting on smiling faces,
From people uttering steamy graces,
When encroaching upon each other’s spaces,
Expressed gaily with warmth of timbre
In the chilly month of December.

And this I say to these venturous kind,
Who are enjoying the wintry weather,
“Beautiful the sight that enthralls my eye.”
In the chilly month of December.

Halloween - Uk

[In the UK, Halloween was, by and large, overlooked or
ignored… until E.T. came to town. Then it went bonkers!]

                          *

Back in the day the dead didn’t cry
Around about then the dead didn’t sigh
Nobody knew that the dead could be sly
In those days October just kinda passed by

It used to be so that the one reason why
A pumpkin was grown would be (yum?) pumpkin pie
And if there were bats that were passing on by
They were four inches long and were up in the sky

The sheets on the line would remain until dry
With no cut out eyes or enshrouding some guy
Cadavers would lie where cadavers should lie
And it was the norm to lay down when you die

This Halloween custom, we gave it a try
After the bicycles flew upon high
It’s now here to stay and do you know why
It’s all cos of ET and that Spielberg guy

If You Imagine

behind me the door slams shut
i’ve entered into a time warp
my world suddenly imploding
a silence the size of a cosmic boom
enshrouding all of colorless morose 
liquified into blobs amorphic  
of hours converging into days

there was before
then there was after
who could imagine
from a thundercloud born of tears
would come a strength beyond fears



AP: Honorable Mention 2022

Submitted on January 19, 2021 for contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (46) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND  -  RANKED 3RD

The Chilly Month of December

The Chilly Month of December

And so comes Winter, after late Fall.
Where from ashen skies of low lying clouds,
Snowflakes fall enshrouding the town,
And piling on people tramping around.

Snow fills footprints extinguishing traces
Of icy stares glinting on smiling faces,
From people uttering steamy greetings,
Who are out and about in the wintry season.

And this I say to these venturous kind,
Who are enjoying the snowy weather,
“Beautiful the sight that enthralls my eye.”
In the chilly month of December.

She Was Very Strange, and Beautiful

She Was Very Strange, and Beautiful
by Michael R. Burch

She was very strange, and beautiful,
like a violet mist enshrouding hills
before night falls
when the hoot owl calls
and the cricket trills
and the envapored moon hangs low and full.

She was very strange, in a pleasant way,
as the hummingbird
flies madly still,
so I drank my fill
of her every word.
What she knew of love, she demurred to say.

She was meant to leave, as the wind must blow,
as the sun must set,
as the rain must fall.
Though she gave her all,
I had nothing left . . .
yet I smiled, bereft, in her receding glow.

Howl of Despair

howl of despair
iron gate swinging shut
	slowly
’til but a crevice remains.
life obscured
mourning that
			unlived.

sorrow unheard
forgiveness unspoken
darkness enshrouding
death without dying
howl unvoiced
			alone.

Collection: Romance
Written: April 2018

The Substance of Being

The Substance of Being
Ponder carefully the worth of those poems enshrouding
life’s mysteries with mysteries of their own enclouding,
as language's beauty is embellished or concealed,
puzzling readers when reality remains unrevealed.
Shunning substance, how could such poets be proud 
of painting frail gossamer words on a passing cloud?

Nessie Camouflaged By Subterfuge Con

Nessie slept soundly cuddling
the tin-plate toy submarine
fitted with plastic wood head
on long sinuous neck attached to
the conning tower, that drifted down
to Nessie's hideout deep in the cave 
at the bottom of Loch Ness.

Nessie knew the pressure was off.
The fake photographs had quelled
the endless searches and prying.
"We'll give them their monster" 
the model maker declared.
He gave them an image - a fake.
People believed the photograph was real for such a long time,
that no one would ever
see or know what Nessie really looked like.
People would always look for a snake like head on a long neck
with one hump or two from the tail.

People wanted a monster,
wanted a photograph to confirm it.
Now Nessie had the model, 
he could poke it up through the surface
on dark stormy nights when lightning 
added to the mystery and intrigue.
The stranger-than-fiction inner truth, hidden by what people wanted to believe.
A Trojan horse enshrouding truth, within a fake cloak of myth revealed.

Naive Days Lost

Oh, Youth—naïve days lost,
Just learning life
In baseball cleats,
With soccer balls,
Days school bells rang
And girls, girls, girls:
Light lilting laughs,
Smooth budding curves
In sweaters tight,
Lean stockinged legs,
And perfumed air
Enshrouding each …

Oh, Youth—long, restless nights
When life knocked hard—
Those turned-down dates,
My anxious heart,
A stolen glimpse,
Small hand in mine
And, then, that night
Soft lips I kissed,
A boob I touched:
First teasing love,
My spirits soared;
Oh, Youth—where have you gone?

Depression 3

Darkness descends on my every thought
Enshrouding me to a point of exhaustion
Please remember this does come and go
Reaching the point of no return we do tire
Everyone will find their own coping point
Some folks will find it easy just to isolate
Some don't even think that they need help
It even hard to recognise as we can hide it
Opening up it's good to talk that we're told
Never be afraid to admit time can be tough

Ash of Dawn

All was hushed this eerie dawn
For ash had claimed the day
Disguising shape and muffling noise
Enshrouding all in grey--
Long the haze had swathed the cliffs
In veils of silver white
Till overnight like fleeting soot
It vanished with the light.


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