Long Desolate Poems
Long Desolate Poems. Below are the most popular long Desolate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Desolate poems by poem length and keyword.
Islands
Islands are – it seems – so many of us.
Worlds apart – alone – in the seas of life.
Joined at the hip – by an adversarial universe.
Amputated from a living solar system
by the master surgeons – insecurity, self doubt,
criticism, negativity, skewed points of view.
Tear tempests rage from within us.
Tsunamis, tearing up any traces of,
the mighty oaks we may have been.
Islands - are we ?, many lost in the sea of,
humanity all around, if, but we could see.
Drifting on crests of gigantic waves.
Cradled within the troughs of ocean’s anger,
being tossed towards the brink of humanity,
on a journey that is carrying us through eternity.
Deserted islands we have become – by choice ?
Ships that pass throughout our nights,
disembarking bodies – life boats to the shore,
these islands, secluded, to explore,
so many constipations lay within,
islands in the seas of humanity.
Islands of lost, empty souls,
islands floating – Sargasso Sea,
islands adrift – apart.
Brilliant, stands that joyous orb,
screaming down upon us all – happiness –
on beams of dancing – feet,
gliding, rhythmically, across us desolate islands,
trying to part lightness into our days,
some days ?, many ?,
it can not dissipate the haunting shadows,
shadows that shroud, darken our life’s experiences.
Good days – some – eclipsed by essence of our realities.
B. J. “A” 2
February 22nd 2008
THE RETURN OF DREAMS
Clumpy clouds drifted in smoky sky from hazy horizon
You saw the rippling reflection in your marooned mind
Turned into a wasteland where you wandered forlorn
Memory lost in the green meadow you’d left behind.
The sky fell with dripping clouds on drenched dream
You were soaked in cold gloom of desolate shower
Molten agony surged in your sad eyes in a stream
In swelling storm of dark night you searched a shelter.
The dawn gave you warm touch of the rising sun
When I held you close in my yearning embrace
Your unclouded eyes saw the grey sky turn auburn
Draped in sunshine new colors flashed on your face.
After storm you’ve reached the edge of wasteland
For you to reach horizon into a green pasture it’ll turn
We’ll walk on the garden path, you’ll hold my hand
In my eyes you’ll see your distanced dreams return.
February 19, 2018.
The desolate wasteland of deprivation traversed
by my indigent life that tried so long so very hard
to smoothen the angularities of the obtuse mind.
Swirling in the egregious whirlpool of indignation,
sucked into the dark abyss of despondent delirium,
I searched out for myself a path of passion within,
leading through the pulsating portal to my heart,
not yet frosted in the perennial winter of despair.
The spring of yearning came in hour of awakening,
soaring on the dreaming wings of the silenced time,
stalled in my satin sky where you flew like a butterfly,
its fluttering cadence created a surreal symphony,
harmonized with the rhythm of music of my heart,
where emotions danced on the ripples of rhapsody
that rolled between you and me to entwine us forever,
consecrating concealed concept of craving called love.
You made it diaphanous weaving the lattice of desire
on tapestry of longing to stay unfurled till end of time.
August 9, 2020
Contest : Strand Completely New (19)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Getting down at a strange place in a desolate station,
I looked for an Uber taxi to reach my location.
There was no one around, and no taxi in view.
I knew rain coming, as thunder rumbled and wind blew.
It was getting late and the sun had already set.
With darkness surrounding me, I felt so upset.
Panic stomped into me as I stood desperately alone.
From far I got the enticing smell of a cologne.
Looking around I saw someone hastily coming
It was a lady and seemed of decent grooming.
She sensed my escalating fear and volunteered to escort.
I accompanied her, profusely thanking her for support.
* * * * * *
Opening my eyes, I saw the lady down on the floor- a corpse frosted.
To my great shock, I knew I was in a house haunted.
A wave of dread ran over me and I screamed in terror
Unable to move, my body shook in deadening horror!
So a cold winters chill steadies across the baron plains of the earth , ice and snow cover it like a patch blanket , with the narry a sign of life , echoing is the sound of old man winter howling and crackling as what seems the day never breaks .
A silence so Erie as to be deafening, the moon shines that shadows this desolate place of great vastness , call it the wild or call it the true test of life , it has an awesome scene of nature to be reckoned with , thus is meant for a challenge , dare to project yourself into this ominous reality.
This place of a harden atmosphere can test the bravest and strongest of any persons iron will , a question of survival tattoos the mind , to be apart of such fierce and dramatic endurance, a setting not unlike a nightmare, what is the just means , pontificating a plan that does not come to a sound conclusion.
The paradox of night and day are like twins looking into a mirror , ice and snow pelting the grass , the trees and the rocks , musically it knifes through the air so freezing as to look alive it is alive .
The wind howling , the wind burning , the wind a formidable foe , to realize its raw power can strike a blow to a once courageous will , it does not let up it never sleeps searing the soul , will it break an already tired spirit, never , never , never .
This force of nature is like a double edge sword , it plays a game of being calm and serine , even has slight repore of peacefulness, but on the it’s razor sides edge can pierce trough anything in which protects you and pushes one to the brink , trapped in its snare trapped in its ravenous plight .
Man in its vanity and narcissistic ego will not abandon this fight , it’s a such a challenge like no other , it does not quit , it will not falter , belief is what one makes of any obstacle, the strength of the mind is the one enigma the piece of a never ending puzzle , it’s vulnerablity is its valour, it’s immaculate design choose to believe choose to endure play your own game this is a virtue to be a calculated strength , peace with in , peace.
ISOLATED
Confined in isolated island.
Constrained in desolate dismal
drowning in darkness of despondence,
eagerly expecting for magical spell,
but actually awaiting for last bell
to ring :
I am ready to leave.
Narcissistic demeanor ! Sullen surly.
Frigid moments not to thaw
Suffocated smothered in forlorn environ
Rigid heart shedding dry tears
Playing aimless games in vain
Neither to achieve nor to gain
Dreamless dull days :
Purposeless colourless.
Shattered disturbed lone heart.
How to avail of affable amiable abode !
No indication of magic spell !
But to wait for call of last bell !
In last phase passion to blaze :
Fizzled flickered vision blurred !
I am ready to leave.
03\03\ 2023
Writing Challenge I - Words
Third Place
Contest by Constance La France.
i.
In the desolate river that once held my peace,
It held me, coaxed me, told me to be at ease.
It kept me, embraced me in the shades of red,
This flame made me stand away from my bed,
So that I’d venture past the tears I shed.
While I fought dragons in my bed asleep,
I fought my well-kept words when I awoke.
But today, after I slew the dragons,
I sought a golden thread through oblivion.
Led me to a bar, a beauty criterion.
I watched from the glass dome afar,
Then I looked at the people; they were
Drunk in love, poets sang poems in a blur.
They swung sonnets like blades in battle,
And their clocks went out ticking in a rattle.
ii.
They were drunk on dirty drinks by the fires.
He was a poet, unlike me, a madman.
The candle was so much greater as a fighter;
It was the folk that guided him higher.
That was when he wrote, his words burned fire.
The candle stood tall in its dimly lit stature.
It lit the heart when you do fall in love,
But it burns too harshly, too great to measure.
He charmed the candle, fostered the ember.
They kept him waiting, standing forever.
iii.
After it ended and the air turned cold,
He lay upon the soft wooden floor.
His shape forms his mold, as he
Stared eye to eye with the candle.
It was his only guide through every gamble.
He whispered to it like it was his friend.
It held the same, but with a tint of red.
It’s flame lit him when he wrote, after all.
The candle knew secrets that he had hidden
Even when he was a tiger, a kid.
And I sat there like a crude bug,
Silent, as I was guilty of choking
Life out of a man, like it was a hug.
Then I touched the candle’s burnt knife,
It told me I’ll climb to heaven in time.
Obscurity
I've reach out to grab hold to things that once could unfold a broken heart. Reached out to feel the things that seemed to intensify my meaning of real.
Still, I feel empty from the days walk and the imagination of ones lingering thoughts. Dropped to my knees, plead for someone to come to my aid.
Bathe in the most dark and desolate place. Faced with obscurity in the waters reflection. Waging war on transparent complexion, for every one notices my ripples. Never take time to see the calm waters beneath. What a cruel world of attraction and dissatisfaction, harden on ones heart. A few words apart from me to you. How much distance shall be between us, how far should I run to embrace just you, once again in my arms. Closes to a dream far from reality.
D.Howard
Travelling forlorn in the desert of desolate life
I wander dazed chasing your mystique mirage,
enticed, I am seduced by your shifting delusion,
my broken heart is strewn as debris on your trail.
I don’t know where I am meant to belong,
but try to find the oasis of your luring love,
I end up turning to dry dust in the wasteland
and blow away to obscurity in the desert storm.
From the defoiated tree of desiccated yearning,
I am now dislodged meandering as a crumpled leaf,
rustle with the tormenting tune of melancholic music,
on its journey of despair beyond the horizon of oblivion.
The scorching sun burns the façade of desire,
as I drift discarded across the dunes of denial
with the sliding sands of time designing myriad illusion,
in the mirage flashing in your eyes I see my degradation.
___________________
September 13, 2021
For A Brian Strand Vers Libre Contest
In wistful whispers, shadows withdrawn,
Dwell tales of a soul, forlorn and forgone.
A symphony of thoughts, somber and grim,
Echoes of melancholy, hauntingly dim.
Wrapped in a shroud of desolate gray,
Lies a heart burdened by what it can't convey.
Through mist-laden paths, the mind finds its way,
Navigating the depths of depression's sway.
The air grows heavy, the atmosphere dense,
As gloomy clouds cloak any glimmer of sense.
Yet within the abyss, hope silently sealed,
Unfolding its wings, refusing to yield.
Feelings entwined like ivy on stone,
Rooted in emotions that one can't disown.
Beneath the surface, the battles begin,
Between light and dark, a war within.
But in the stillness, resilience will rise,
Chasing away shadows that disguise.
With every tear shed and every ache felt,
Strength grows in the heart where darkness once dwelt.
So let the poem breathe, let the verses be heard,
A testament to the strength of each word.
For even in sadness, beauty shall spring,
From the depths of despair, a new song to sing.
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest sponsored by Emile Pinet May 29, 2023