Long Despondent Poems
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A weasel wibble wobbling can be said to have ingested copious amounts of indemonstrable indelible ink today as it soared into doorways, hallways, cloakrooms, and buffet tables. Buffet tables are neither buffaloes or bongos. In fact they are a pleasant sight to behold. Many colours. Many tastes. And the sounds of chatting from the sandwich stack is delightful especially when the mayonnaise is chuckling away at the jokes told by the ham and cheese. Little dainty cup cakes are immature so a quality conversation cannot be held. And the large jug is rather unintelligible and uninteresting as it yawns away the hours before the consumption takes place. The operatic oversized plate of soprano pineapples and chords of cheese with onions today but the mighty weight of the plate of rice and pasta salad bangs away and interrupts the acts really so the sauces must line up and push the nuisance plate to the floor and this they did. The dog was very very pleased and lay down after eating it all for a doze. And over half a dozen eggs kept jumping up and down and throwing their mayonnaise hats off. We font want these hats. We want whipped cream they shouted. The despondent tablecloth groaned. Another booming buffering buffet. And then the cutlery began having races between the foods. Zoom zoom zoom. Wow. The might of the jar of gherkins was being prayed to by the punnet of strawberries. And the profiteroles were preforming Pilates to an amused potatoe salad. The salt and pepper were arguing over who got used the most. And the coleslaw was diving on and off the pizza slices which annoyed the pepperoni who shouted go away in a very high pitched voice. Buffet battling bemusingly being buttering breadsticks. And now the time had arrived. The hungry swans and tulip people were here. They saw the mess. Blamed the dog. Then walked out in disgust. Oh dear. The tablecloth picked itself up and all it's contents too then went out of the back door and soared off in the air. It landed on a busy beach where it fed lots of little sea urchins. Who were grateful. They gave the tablecloth an ice cream to say thanks. Then the tablecloth went into the sea and swam to the island of the nine figs. Great isn't it. Ha ha the waves want wands. Hahaha boats bouncing into the sky. Left angled fueled fuel vision of a visionary variant spelling of mid. Xxxxx contemplation z z z z in a kiosk z
Form:
Mr. President, Mr. Vice President, Americans, and the world:
In the crucible of revolution, our forefathers etched their pledge—
a bold testament inscribed not solely in ink,
but in the quiet, relentless pulse of divine dependence.
It is as if the ink itself carried whispers
of a celestial covenant,
affirming divine Providence
into the very marrow of liberty.
Yet, as time past,
present battles won,
and future problems solved,
liberty's nation absolved themselves
from any responsibility
to the Providence from whose
sovereign ties
freed them from foreign foes.
And man's purpose became his own.
Hear this
If our purpose is in just us,
we will find we have lost ourselves,
encased in the cells of just-ice.
For if our forefathers found it requisite
to declare our nation's independence by
recognizing their dependence on the
"Laws of Nature and Nature's God"
beyond the limits of
mankind's powerful facade,
facading the source of
our country's origin,
our homeland's dominion,
foraging a jurisdiction of humanity alone,
thereby ascending mortality's throne
above the divine --
making mankind superior to the
"Supreme judge of the world,"
a position our forefather's forbade
"appealing... [In] rectitude...of [their] intentions"
to a God they believed in,
a declaration sovereignty -
bowed in solemnity,
proclaiming “with a firm reliance on the
protection of divine Providence,"
a dependence on a God they
entrusted their dependence to.
Who are we to say any different?
What difference does it make
if we believe in God or ourselves?
As the good word says,
"Shall the axe boast itself against him
that heweth therewith? or shall the saw
magnify itself against him that shaketh it?
As if the rod should shake itself against
them that lift it up, or as if the staff
should lift up itself, as if it were no wood."
For Godhood is to create,
and man was created by God.
And should man boast himself beyond
Him who spawned ages beyond ages,
he shall find himself his brother's pawn,
despondent, disheartened and disappointed,
foraging for the framework
of freedom our forefathers foraged,
overwhelmed by the damage
of a fallen nation who failed
to hear the caution within
the clarion calls of its creator.
This is a warning
from neighbor to neighbor.
“Good Morning! I know you are busy. Will you stop for a while for an interview?”
Sir, what do you want to know? If only you are keen,
And do not look at me with prejudice, I shall explain,
How I ended up here and tell you my whole story_
The story of my journey from the cliff to the plane.
“Yes, I know you are a traveller, tell me all about it. But before that, I wish to know about your origin and background.”
I was part of a big rock, so static without motion.
I used to watch birds in flight on feathered wings,
Going from one end to the other, merrily singing,
Buoyed up by the force of the wind as on swings.
Like them I longed to be free and roaming
But knew I was cradling just a fanciful whim.
I slept most of my life with my dream tucked in my heart.
As time rolled by, my dreams and fancies grew dim.
It was then a tremor shook the very face of the earth,
Loosening my mother boulder from her strong hinge.
She moved and rolled down from the great heights,
On the way a chip got broken, in pain I did twinge.
Thus, I was born. Painfully, alienated from my mother,
I felt so orphaned and lay silent in a dark corner,
Lost and hungering like a dream waiting to wake up.
But my grief gave way to joy, no more I was a mourner.
“It sounds so interesting. How did it all happen? Please tell me…..”
Seeing me lying dejected and despondent, a small stream
Took pity on me and carried me along.
I enjoyed my ride and never more I was sad.
Now to a wider world, joyfully I belong.
Freed from all chains, I am out to view life and enjoy.
I stay in nature’s bosom, free to saunter wherever I wish.
Never feeling the need to pitch my tent, like a gipsy,
I travel along with the stream, with a merry swish.
“So glad to know that your life has taken such an unexpected turn. Now a last question.How do you respond to the popular saying- ‘A Rolling Stone gathers no moss.’”
Sorry, I have nothing to comment. Let men see it that way,
Enjoy life is my creed, my song is the song of liberty.
Leaving all cares and sorrows behind, like a tramp I stroll,
Taking turns and twists, sometimes cascading down in endless novelty.
“Thank you for stopping by to tell the story of your life and sharing your views and aspirations on life”
Part Three of the Sixth poet honored
(Emily Dickinson) in famous poets dedication series
(3.)
From Weeping Tears, No Longer Shall Joy Find In Heart Anything
Creeping thick fog has dimmed my view of morn's resplendent lake
so dreary is life's sorrows, more than this sad soul can take
yet tomorrow promises mysteries that leap from the dark
tho' my life's worries have wrinkled my skin like Sycamore bark.
Night shall come, with its agonies crying to be unbound
as its bellowing howls screech out, horrendous gasping sounds
very soon midnight moon will swallow up my despondent soul
spitting it out as fragmented black-stained pieces of the whole!
God forbid! That from this nightmare I never dare to wake
to that of Life, dear sweet Love, I never again partake
and from morbid sunken state, my heart crumble and be no more
fallen into heaps of crushed bones, spilled blood and ghastly gore!
Woe! The epic pains such broken-heart images dare'st tonight bring
From weeping tears, no longer shall joy find in heart anything.
Robert J. Lindley, 2- 12-2019
Sonnet, ( The Sad Depths Of Sorrow's Deep Epic Pains)
dedicated to Emily Dickinson, poets dedication series..
(4.)
There's More To The Old Forest Than Its Ancient Trees
As years are peeled back, this gladden heart now truth sees
there's more to the old forest than its ancient trees
mystery in places, savagery in its nights
more than just imagination, it hides from sight!
Yet such does not negate its most beautiful gifts
its Autumn colors, songbirds notes that so uplifts
bounty of its harvests, peace it oft can instill
calm that one may find there, treasures that oft so thrill.
Tho' darkness lurks there deep and hides its evil ways
one can visit its truth, find self most any day
walk along its well worn trails and about life muse
all of its many wonders, in this dark world use!
As years are peeled back, this gladden heart now truth sees.
There's more to the old forest than its ancient trees.
Robert J. Lindley, 1- 18-2019
Sonnet, ( Amazing That This Dark World, Has Such Beauty In Its Forests)
dedicated to Emily Dickinson, in poet dedication series
Note:
(1.)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Dickinson
(2.)
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/emily-dickinson
Right when I thought I had figured things out,
FEAR sauntered in and introduced DOUBT.
The twins came over, DISMAY and DESPAIR.
Then APATHY appeared. Does anyone care?
DISGUST and DISDAIN knocked on my door.
DISILLUSIONMENT laughed at what was in store.
ENVY and PRIDE cried unanimous cheers.
DOOM and DESPERATION were invoking my fears.
DEFIANCE brought a sign reading, “Come watch him fall.”
A gruesome and grotesque masquerade ball.
A party complete full of Demons and Ghouls.
This chaotic nightmare was void of all rules.
I ventured outside away from the noise,
despondent by actions that EVIL employs.
I sat on the porch with my hands on my face.
The stench of DESTRUCTION dispensing DISGRACE.
I cried out, “Dear Lord, what more can I do?”
I jumped when a voice said, “It’s all up to you.”
I gathered my senses and offered a seat
to an elderly woman, who lived down the street.
“That’s quite a party you seem to be throwing.”
I nodded my head, “It just keeps on growing.”
She leaned in and whispered, “They run in packs,
carefully planning these full-scale attacks.”
I asked her the reason they all showed up here?
She said, “You empowered the illusion of FEAR.
Without you to help them, their power is weak.
They gather up strength from words that you speak.
What you don’t understand, regardless it’s true,
GOD gave authority over Demons to YOU.”
Something made sense in what she had said.
She changed the perceptions I had in my head.
So, I stormed in the house with COURAGE and PEACE,
screaming, “It’s over! This party must cease!”
CONVICTION paraded as FAITH filled my heart.
In the name of JESUS, I demanded they part!
Their revelry turned into howling and shrieks.
A bellowing ANGST echoed out from the peaks.
They whined and moaned but followed command.
HOPE cleansed the room and TRUTH took a stand.
My new found friend was no longer there.
I shouted out “Thank You!” into the night air.
Hearing my commotion, “For what?” asked my wife.
“Your church-lady friend may have just saved my life.”
“You mean GRACE?” she questioned, “Didn’t you know?”
“GRACE went to heaven almost two weeks ago.”
I took her hand and we knelt down to pray,
thanking GOD for the POWER in WORDS that we say.
~Body
A Debilitating cage I’m not permitted to escape,
Thoughts of blades, craving the slice and scrape.
Jokes and giggles echo from friendly and unknown lips,
I stop eating and lay down the chips.
Everything I do from breathing to eating, to sitting causes laughter,
Leaving me crushed, despondent, and confused after.
Loose and dark clothing cloaking a body I am taught to hide,
The glares and scoffs speak silent volumes when implied.
Clothing made for a body I will never obtain,
With the common recommendation to just self restrain.
Years ago it wouldn't be the case
Now just to leave the house I must brace.
Punishing the flesh only goes so far,
Each failure marked with another raised scar.
~Mind
Since the young age of six I knew,
Missing unspoken expected cues.
The world I view isn't what most see,
Self-worth swiftly crumbling into debris.
Books unfold new worlds with simplicity around each corner,
Yet when the pages close, I'm back to being the local foreigner.
Hearing words of a language I have known my entire life,
Attempting to understand brings nothing but strife.
The simple beauty in a raindrop,
Was the first time I saw my brain stop
to admire something no one saw
But doctors call it a genetic flaw.
A brain not built for this world,
so back into a ball, I curled.
~Soul
A hopeful heart meant to help all,
Eagerly willing to assist unprepared for the fall.
One person willing and waiting to drain,
for nothing more than their own gain.
Hoards of people needing one more thing,
I’ll happily bend in half to be your sling.
As soon as I request a shoulder to lean on,
Suddenly their need for me is gone.
Confusion and self-blame infecting the gash,
Readying myself for the next crash.
I get tired of shoving my round pieces through the world’s square hole.
A stream of non-ending reiterations of my differences, from body to mind to soul.
Tick marks line my limbs, counting the times I let the urges win,
Memories laced with shame encourage a new chapter of sin.
Pointless quest after quest attempting to find the map to this stage of life,
As the bedroom door closes at night, I'm left with stinging tears and a yearning for a knife.
Sappho Translations VIII by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 68
translation by Michael R. Burch
That was then, this is now!
In those days my maidenhead was in full bloom,
then you …
Sappho, fragment 135
translation by Michael R. Burch
Golden Persuasion, Aphrodite's daughter,
how you deceive mortals!
Sappho, fragment 88
translation by Michael R. Burch
Why, Procne,
delicate swallow, daughter of Pandion,
why do you weary me with tales of woe?
Sappho, fragment 15
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cypris, may she find you a harsh mistress,
Doricha, the sl-t!
Put an end to her bragging,
nor let her boast that she fooled him twice,
my brother's embezzler!
Sappho, fragment 7
translation by Michael R. Burch
Doricha commands arrogantly,
like young men.
Sappho, fragment 148
translation by Michael R. Burch
A vagabond friendship,
a public blessing …
repent Rhodopis!
Sappho, fragment 138
translation by Michael R. Burch
The beautiful courtesan Rhodopis,
lies here entombed, more fair
than when she walked with white lilies
plaited in her dark hair,
but now she's as withered as they:
whose dust is more gray?
Sappho, fragment 5
translation by Michael R. Burch
Revered Nereids, divine sea-daughters, please grant that my brother may return unharmed,
his heart's desires all fulfilled,
and may he show his sister more honor than in his indifferent past …
But you, O august Kypris, please keep him from unbearable dooms!
Sappho, fragment 95
translation by Michael R. Burch
Lord Hermes, you guide spirits to their final destination.
Now guide me, for I am despondent and wish only to die,
to see the lotus-lined shores of Acheron.
Sappho, fragment 150
translation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Cleis, daughter, don't cry!
Mourning is unbecoming a poet's household.
2.
For those who serve the Muses,
mourning is unbecoming.
Sappho, fragment 56
translation by Michael R. Burch
Erinna, will any woman
born under the sun
ever match your art?
Sappho, fragment 135
translation by Michael R. Burch
Erinna, why does darkwinged Procne, King Pandion's daughter, beckon?
Keywords/Tags: Erinna, Procne, brother, sister, daughter,
Inevitable; that's me, simply called discouragement...
Oppressive is my nature; you should be warned
I attack everyone; yet I'm exempting you:
Yes, you who are now despondent, broken-hearted
Frustrated, and about to quit!
Are you aware of my presence?
Can you hear my mocking, taunting reproach???
I'm challenging you, dear believer of God...
You who have been testifying of your steadfast faith
To face me; and prevail over my misery-grants!
Oh, come on... rise up and meet me!!!
Where's your courage? I see no valiant spirit...
Just sighing in despair, murmur of complaints
Loser, I leave you, wallowing in your guilt
I'll trample you midst pity-party sessions.
~~~~~~~
Do I hear you praying unto the Lord?
May I congratulate you then...
You're now moving toward championship
Actually, smiting me is never impossible
Vanquishing me is easy when you trust in God.
Since you're stirred-up* and fired-up against me
Place yourself in the right position to thank your Creator
A heart of gratitude blocks my entrance I confess...
Did you get me! Is manifesting thanksgiving difficult?
Sure it is if you remain to be selfish, arrogant, discontented.
With worshipful heart, keep cheering yourself
Remember David** in the Scriptures who encouraged himself?
Well, you should; thus, abide in the infallible Word of God
Thru that, you'll be enabled, empowered, emboldened
Ready to exalt God, and to minister to others with love.
Unbeatable!!! Yes, that's you, child of God whom He upholds
That's you, soldier of the Lord whom He guards
Indeed, that's you seeking Him with His grace
Sure, that's you humbly yielding to His power
Fighting me, discouragement, with the Sword of the Spirit triumphantly.
*2Timothy 1:6-7 Wherefore I put thee in remembrance that thou stir up the gift of God, which is in thee by the putting on of my hands. For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
**1Samuel 30:6 And David was greatly distressed;...but David encouraged himself in the LORD his God.
February 23, 2019
Edited on March 27, 2022
1st place, "A BRIAN STRAND 1097" Free Verse Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/27/2022.
We were once a pair of flying, floating, diving doves
Warming on wintry days under weathered wooden eaves
We swayed and swirled with ecstatic, electric pleasure.
In synchronized steps to the rising and lilting measure,
We meandered down meadows, gathering magnolia flowers
We roamed and rambled, resting under roomy bowers
We watched life’s swirling and twirling ebb and flow
We waited eager to grab life’s evanescent, ethereal glow
We never knew arrows sting or sorrow’s depth
Each merry morn, for us, was love’s lovely rebirth
We walked close to paths celestial and supernal
And lived and dallied in thoughts of love eternal
But how soon I lost the rhyme n’ rhythm of life
Dropped into a weary world with worries rife
Became a bent, broken reed far beyond repair
With no songs sung to be tuned or played ever
I had no clue why you had so hastily and stealthily left me
I found myself drifting and drowning in a dreary sea
I have been under despondent delusion and deep despair
Thought that our love was cracked and wrecked beyond all repair
Until you let me know what had transpired behind the scene
And told, you still love me and look longingly to make me your queen
To make everything a sweet surprise for me and for everyone,
You went to a far forlorn land for a living, but had none
On false charges, got detained and delayed in a refugee camp
Where you had access to none, was taunted and treated like a tramp
Now that you have a decent job and can stand on your feet
You would come to take me as your wife and would soon retreat
Now I count my days and weave dreams on dreams
Of the time you will come to darn the torn and tattered seams
When you proudly proclaim once more in my attentive ear
You are my devout darling, my all time legitimate lover
Each wayside flower brings to me your long lost, lovelorn face
The wind swayed lilacs and lilies reflect your gorgeous grace
On sordid silent nights, as the odor of your body and hair
Comes winging and wafting, for a while, I feel you are near
March.19.2022
~ Placed First~
My Lost and Found Love Poetry Contest
Sponsor- JCB Brul
Resubmitted for Alliteration- Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Joseph May
In the world of all comforts,
In the world of absolute care and affection,
In the world of motherhood.
Ten months I was basking, in my mother's womb.
Happiness running down my spine – I thanked God,
His blessing in disguise, rather he in disguise – My mother,
Who is she? How she will be? - I don't know,
Am I her replica? Am I her miniature?
I struggled day after day to open my eyes.
To look at her dazzling beauty and to admire her.
Her hands were made to carry me,
Her arms were made to hug me,
Her shoulders were made to bear me,
My mother, the only person on this whole earth to love me more than I do myself.
I longed to see her face,
Why this ten months vigil? Why not now? My heart bumped!
Days rolled and months passed.
I kicked my way.
A pat on my back,
I cried, it was tears of happiness.
Where is my mother?
Place me on her hands, let me sense her breath,
Let that be the first air I breathe.
With great joy oozing out I slowly opened my eyes.
To see her eyes which is longing to see my eyes.
Mom! With great excitement I gazed.
But it was the blue sky that welcomed me to this new world.
Where is my mother? Where is she? Is she not carrying me?
I searched for her.
Then where am I placed? I looked around.
The cradle squeaked.
Sudden fracas and turbulence hit my ears.
In a fraction of a second I was surrounded by people.
Nobody like me and nobody liked me.
I moved from one hand to another.
But I never smelt my mother.
My mom was missing.
Did she leave me?
I was in a fix.
Yes, she left me.
What made her to hate me even before I was born?
She left me alone in this callous world.
Abandoned me,
Branded me an orphan,
Made me languish in pain,
Agonize in vain,
My day turned dark and despondent,
My life turned bleak and impotent,
But still my heart longed to see my mother.
I can never in my life hate her.
Because I was in her.
My ire was directed only at God,
He wrote my fate,
He took my mom, what more can I ask,
Nothing can replace her in my life.
I said “My God my first and last wish,
Give every child the power to see even before they were born,
Children like me, who are so unfortunate
Can see their mother's face at least from their womb.
BY
MADHUPRIYA SHANMUGAM