Long Desolateness Poems
Long Desolateness Poems. Below are the most popular long Desolateness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Desolateness poems by poem length and keyword.
Frozen sky and frost fastened ground
In the mystique mask of departing light
They meet in the abode of those departed.
The identities dissolve in inseparable oneness
Bringing together in seamless proximity
The living and the dead
In gripping stillness and in deafening silence
In fading light and in gloomy desolateness
Of the graveyard in the wasteland reclaimed
All engraved in the consumed life’s winter frame.
Defoliated trees clad in somber grief
Stand static as the shadowless sentinels
Lest those lying beneath the stones resurrect
And fly away with the northern wind.
The children of the past born under the sun
Left behind the warmth in the distant hearts
When time came to find a place within the earth.
The lonesome bouquet laced with love not yet dead
Carries the frozen fragrance of remembrance.
The defrosted soul may rise someday as mist
Enwrap the lives enfolded within despair
Of the cold embrace of the dried drops of tear.
Written : September 16, 2017
April 24, 2020
Contest : Strand Pick D, Any Theme, Any Form
Sponsor : Brian Strand
It’s not our choice where we would be,
but now that we are here
as an actor performing at the wish of God,
let’s give life the chance to be fulfilled,
and in its fold, make us a good human being.
We chase the mirage of endless desires
in the desolateness of weary existence,
carry the languishing life listlessly
across the desert of limitless bleakness,
on the pitiless pathway of disparaging delusion.
The formidable mountain of life we climb,
the summit to be reached on the track undefined.
Let’s surrender to the designed will of the supreme,
and in His prescribed intent repose our trust,
for faith will pave the pre-defined path for us.
The turbulent ocean of life we need to sail calm,
reach the last anchorage on the tranquil shore far.
Kindle the search light of everlasting hope,
we’ll see silver-lined cloud in the gloomy sky,
the divine light will take us to the destined shore.
Light up the dense darkness of suffering
with the candle of selfless altruism laced with love.
Bloom flowers in the debris of broken hearts,
see these radiate divine glow of happiness,
and the mangled minds find infinite bliss.
Across the wasteland of desolation
many walk in the dismal winter of despair.
Let’s extend the arms of love and compassion,
take them to the sunny shore of the warm sea,
sparkling with joy under the radiant fervent sky.
Let’s release the surge of forgiveness
from the inner recess as the empathy spring,
drown the irate senses in the flood of wisdom.
Rise from the ashes of remorse, douse the disdain fire,
let the fountain of forgiveness flow unhindered.
Let’s strive to be free from the mortal grip,
recover the power of the resolute essence,
that’ll impel us to break away from the clutch of agony,
and with the discernment of divine conscience,
chart for us a new course of psychic awareness.
_______________
March 19, 2023
Contest : Now That We Are Here
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
This unhappy man in the midst of overflowing opulence living
like a discolored precious stone in a box of rare jewels was always
sad and lonely like a dry wood in a lush green forest, woke up
one morning, more dejected than the morning before, threw
the flower embossed curtains off the crystal clear window and
looked outside to see, maybe for the first time, the scarlet sun
rise in the flaming horizon that painted the fresco of rhythm on
the rippling water of the river, he heard beckoning him amid the
rustle of the dry leaves as the cool morning breeze ruffled them,
and as the colors of the dawn touched his heart softly like the
falling petals of flowers embracing the hard grey ground, a rare
delightful sensation pervasive, he never felt before, and as the
music of the river wrapped his senses the way drifting clouds
serenade in the emptiness of the mute sky, he walked with his
face flooded by sensuous sunshine to the bank of the river
where he saw a sand bar emerging proudly from the water in
the middle of the river and spreading a silvery sloping bed for
a small tree to grow whose outstretched branches were dancing
in the southern wind and the emerald leaves were shining in
sunburst splendor which he thought were the expressions of
happiness and joy that the lone tree could generate as it grew
free in an isolated barren bed of sand bar. All these enticed him
to sail across the coral sea to a distant barren island and like the
tree he let his life take resolute root in desolateness, living to
see the dawns come with pristine colors to cheer and the sea
turning into tapestry of liquid gold in ecstatic sunset hours, but
he couldn’t spread his hands up in the beguiling air the way
the branches of the forlorn tree did in ecstasy, his eyes didn’t
shimmer under sun soaked sapphire sky the way the nascent
leaves of the lonely tree did in happiness, because insular time
had made his mind a barren island.
seclusion accretes
in confines of lonely time…
soul seeks shore of bliss
August 26, 2020
Contest : Let The Pens Flow-Haibun
Sponsor : Jenish Somadas
" Amid the jagged shadows of mossy leafless boughs"
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Gold tinged paints dripped from the air,
under the clear opalescent autumn sky,
jade foliage turned to full-bloom flower,
I flew my heart like a bird over the canopy.
The canopy of your allure so beguiling
took me to the enticing heights of ecstasy.
The nest we built in the cleft of boughs
glistened in love-laced moonshine night.
Night of strife surged a wrecking storm,
the nest crumbled to debris of despair.
You flew away to the sunny sky obscure,
left me to suffer in the spasm of winter.
Winter frost slithered with the north wind
to desolateness of the defoliated boughs.
I felt my love freeze in the congealed heart
amid the jagged shadow of broken wings.
" Without love, we are birds with broken wings"
- Mitch Albom
November 28, 2019
For Brian Strand's Contest A Brian Strand July 12
On a frosty opaque day in windy winter
I, an old defoliated tree denied the sky and the soil
by the young aggressive ones spreading branches,
walk out of the green forest in sheer desperation.
Crossing the contorted contours of the barren badlands,
I go across the pallid plateau to a city quite far,
where I could see no sun shining with survival panacea,
so I couldn’t soak the rays to get my lost foliage back.
I could neither find sustaining soil of bonding sympathy,
so I couldn’t stand upright in the storm of strife.
Dejected, I then morph into a human figure without roots
in the remote corner of the concrete forest.
In dismal unkind desolateness my heart soon breaks,
and the forsaken fragile hands hang unheld,
picking up pining the strewn shards abandoned,
from the cauldron of a smoldering summer day.
Disillusioned, I walk back to the forest I once left,
and burn the essence of humanity in the forest fire.
January 29, 2021
Title used : If I Were A Tree
Contest : If I Were A?
Sponsor : Mysytic Rose Rose
From the edge of the ebon night sky,
under the engulfing clouds of gloom,
the promise of moon I’ve made to you,
I’ll keep before the eclipse starts.
The somber storm of smothering strife
drifts me away across the slate horizon,
the clouds melt in the torrent of tears
as my sky falls with the marooned moon.
The promise kept after the agonizing wait,
your fervent window opens on vista of hope,
ushers in the dislodged moon called heart,
rolling onto your satin bed long unslept
In the dark niche of your desolateness
glows the frozen moonbeam burst,
while the floating tinsels of silver dust
flutter like fairy over your silhouette face.
Holding the magical moon turned crystal globe,
you look deep into the illumined fortune
in kaleidoscopic images portending the future,
where my yearning paints dreamscape for you.
Written : March 10, 2020
June 9, 2020
Contest : Strand No. 790
Sponsor : Brian Strand
“When the birds leave the nest to fly in another sky,
the feathers they leave become memory” - Quote by Poet
I built a nest for them so together we could stay,
kept it warm in the winter nights of frost and cold,
no sweeping storm of strife could ever blow it away,
where I held them in my tender wings’ sheltered fold.
They grew up nurtured in the cradle of care,
learned to build and face life in the chosen way,
the loving process with them I could affably share,
the passing parental joy lasted until they flew away.
The cherished bond turns into frail strands of memory,
entwined with the feathers they leave, I forget to cry.
In the residual time I weave the mental tapestry,
and to retain their fading faces in its motif I try.
A lone traveler at the edge of the twilight I sorely sigh,
with the descending desolateness in the nest I talk.
In the memory mirror the lost dreams I descry,
as toward the obscurity the last mile I walk.
This unhappy man in the midst of flowing opulence lived
like a discolored precious stone in a box of rare jewels,
and was always sad like a dry wood in a lush green forest.
He got up one morning more dejected than the morning before,
threw the flower embossed curtains off the crystal clear window
and looked out to see, maybe for the first time,
the crimson sun rising in the flaming horizon
that painted frescos of rhythm on water of the river.
He heard the beckon of the river in the rustle of the
leaves as the cool morning breeze ruffled them,
and as the colors of the dawn touched his heart softly
like the petals of flowers embracing the hard grey ground,
a delightful sensation he never felt before,
and as the call of the river floated silently to his senses
the way the drifting clouds talk to the mute sky,
he walked with his face flooded with soothing sunshine
to the bank of the river where he saw a sand bar
rising proudly from the water in the middle of the river
and spreading a golden sloping bed for a small tree to grow
whose branches were dancing in the western wind
and the emerald leaves were shining in sunburst splendor.
These he thought were the expressions of happiness and joy
that the lone tree could generate as it grew free
in an isolated barren bed of dry sand bar.
So he traveled across the coral sea to a distant barren island
and like the tree he let his life take root in desolateness
and lived to see the dawns come with pristine colors to cheer,
the sea become tapestry of liquid gold in ecstatic sunset hours,
but he couldn’t spread his hands out in the embalming air
the way the branches of the forlorn tree did in joy,
his eyes didn’t shimmer under the sun soaked sky
the way the leaves of the lonely tree did in happiness
because he became a barren island.
October 8, 2018
Contest : Fiction - October 2018 Writing Challenge
Sponsored by : Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
The effervescence of the party doesn’t seem to abate,
even when the guests leave one by one,
the psychedelic lights dissolve within fading melody,
the rolling ripples of air clutch the last rhythm.
The dark stillness waiting outside enters inside,
the music in the air never gets forsaken,
as the darkness melts, a stream of umbra flows within,
cascading in the vale of vibrant blankness.
I dance in the captivating cadence of bliss within,
merging with the mesmerizing music of silence,
see the guests return from the dark one by one,
and come to life in times drowned in desolateness.
They sing the song of pulsating quietude,
the essence permeating the resounding void space,
saturates my time of lingering loneliness,
and dances to my music …
the party doesn’t end.
________________
Posted : December 21, 2020
January 25, 2023
Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 25
Sponsored by : Mark Toney
Lure of mirage
in deranged dunes,
dances in
dandelion rhythm
with oasis dream,
illusion inscribed
in sane sands of time,
sliding continuum
with desiccated travail,
thirst unquenched,
stimulus sensuous,
perpetual.
Dormant despair
usurps harps of hope,
vibrato dissipates
unperceived,
wisdom shroud
unfurls crafty chimera
in life of actuality,
awareness avid,
imbibed.
Stifling shadow
anguished onyx cloud
creeps remorseless,
dissension darkness drips
opaque desolateness
on listless landscape,
mangled in
strife maelstrom,
mind sucked within
hope vortex,
umbrage pervades,
unushered.
Silver spectrum
of lines transient
in acumen cloud,
splits into colors
of radiant reverie
in optimistic prism,
sculpted.
Convoluted canvas,
carapace conjured
for contorted hideous faces,
turning in a trance
into baroque frescos,
flicker of beauty
sparkles sneaky
in conceived smile,
beholder,
the painter.