Jolted Poems - Poems about Jolted

I ruminate about the past in the roaring rain, I never understood the happiness game, One of my architects used brutality to enlighten me I wondered if this was the reason my spirit was so cold, Why did my eyes resemble the winter snow?...

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A breath of light and suddenly I'm lost. Catapulted by a mesmerizing scene of audacious beauty. I'm a ringtone of arrival on a magic carpet ride, run me over with a feather, then let me repose Life on earth unhems, I let go of the mayhem inside sewn to the carpet of...

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Quote: "Tomorrow's sun will rise, either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds, but it will rise." Unknown Author of a well known poem. As the day meanders by, Sunbeams still stream from the sky, With so many promises left to fulfil. And a relaxed sensation lingers still. Euphoric stimulations rush through my mind, A pulsating tempo, urging me...

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The zephyr in dainty dusk ruffles sunk sun’s sequins, ripples the radiant facade of the placid pond, where on the lilting lap of a silken lotus leaf, floats forlorn, rolls restless, a rain drop, a resplendent opalescent pearl. Lest it gets shoved away, the leaf entwines its transient trance with the satin threads of love, unattached to...

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caught napping resting on our past laurels never served anyone well in twilight of existence Earth is retaliating and jolted into action which we might very well now regret awakening I’ve no tears left for mankind never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake* ...

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I lay with languor praying for an answer I’d been seeking. Azure glitter-drops splashed upon the clean white sand nearby my feet. I drifted into sleep then as wisps of clouds in a sky mirroring the cerulean sea beneath it wafted slowly like my slackening pensive thoughts. I’d dozed and was awakened by gulls’ shrill long calls. Instantly, I was jolted by...

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Behind me, I hear, The receding roar of years. It sends chills down my spine. For me, no more springing steps, But a fast- withering torso, So awkward and unsure. I look on to the track ahead, ...

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I'm jolted by the twilight of my years. So blessed to be mid-eighty standing still to bask in memories of what has passed- and grateful for my present, awesome life. My thoughts of future years are now defined; for certain, there's an ending to my road where I will not be privy to the gifts of taking part in good times that...

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Once again the silvery moon has pilfered the golden sun Total eclipse is upon me, time has elapsed suspending orange Twilight’s begun on the orb’s descending softer glow Veiled in twilight… ...

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Now aubade has gone and the day has spun its spun A jolt of twilight wakens the nothingness to come No more rises or zeniths no future for the sun only the shocking truth of knowing When life’s done it’s done For death can never be destroyed or undone Hollowed out inside, oblivion’s rotten void Permanence beset with...

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Like dreams ~ as conscience echoes through the dark, and life's mirage laps upon my shores where dunes of sand are blown like drifts of snow. I'm lost ~ alone ~ not knowing where to go, except between where beach roses grow and... where love is/was still unforgettable ~ regrettable? too perfect to...

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You rang…illumination of bittersweet passion. My facial vitality warmed by the welcoming awakening. My eyes become as stars linked together with humanity The balm of a new day. ...

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This is the saddest day of my life, But the day dosen't know that, the sky is so blue and the sunshine so bright. No one looks and nobody cares as I stumble my way through the hours, Everything just continuously drags, I don't eat I don't drink I am just here. I fear the coming night and the dreams...

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sounds and senses serenade as the sun, words and whispers possess power like a gun… perhaps my lingering lullabies made a broken heart believe~ the silence spoken, jolted by twilight lips purely to deceive… take all the tales I twist so you can achieve~ what delusions your creative mind can conceive have I made the world tremble? have you woven your sad...

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Beauty painted by nature in the clouds, A big umbrella that shields not the crowds, Pitter-patters and everyone is soaked, Thereafter, sunlight anger is provoked. Brushes not coloured by oil or water, Yet hues of blue, pink and red on blotter, Leaving the painter's brush so sirenic, Just to make the birth of the night scenic. Dark veil then covers twilight's pretty smile, With...

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