Long Distraught Poems
Long Distraught Poems. Below are the most popular long Distraught by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Distraught poems by poem length and keyword.
"Imagine a lovely garden, tea for two, and this story . . . "
The poigant auroma of ashwood fills the elements
the man made structure pays homage.
Many occasion will tread the aisle and rows
brides,holy communion to pall barers alike....
One time inparticular,early morning a knock at the door
was my mate Kev,i could see by his face something drastic
held my breath he said " Kingy has been shot"
31 years olds,he fell into the wrong crowd.
Our very good friend from childhood
was taken away, his mother devastatingly distraught
a handsome chap,a ladies man, a loveable rogue
was always kind to the elderly and the young also.
His manners,self presentation,and cleanliness were exquisit
always the highlight of the party,made everybody laugh
that cold morning in january 2000,always etched in my mind
always in my thoughts,heart and probably inspiring my poem.
The musky smell of a chapel,the sad loss of a young life. R.I.P LEE
Paul Beadnall for:
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Contest Name I Fancy Another Sad Poem
16/8/2011
December came with Christmas beckoning at the door
He saw every house bright with many a lamp
And the whole streets illumined with colorful lights and star
But his tiny hut looked dismal n’ dark like a prison camp
One evening, on a leisurely walk from school
The boy saw a man selling colorful balloons
With the little penny tucked safely in his jacket of wool
He bought a balloon and headed straight to the lagoons
There as he sat on the sprawling silver sands
A strange idea had come upon his little head
Send a letter to God seeking help from his generous hands
Hoping Jesus would listen, he too being born as a poor kid
On a white paper he carefully scribbled these lines:
“Merciful God, look upon us, this unfortunate seven
Here, we die of hunger leading miserable lives
On this Christmas, send us a little cheer up from heaven”
He folded the paper and fastened it to the balloon
Nevertheless, he didn’t forget to put his full address
When the wind was strong, he let it fly over the lagoon
And watched it soar high with his earnest plea for redress
Days went by and the awaited Christmas Eve arrived
While the world splurged in all gaiety and merriment
The poor hut remained dull with all pleasures deprived
The helpless parents were lost in grim bafflement
Abruptly, there halted before their hut a Ferrari
A man, old and greying with a graceful smile
Alighted from the car and stood looking all cheery
Searching the boy, he had travelled many a mile
It was during one of his daily strolls around the lagoon
That the gentleman saw a balloon tangled on a willow tree
The white paper tied to it, he unfastened from the balloon
Unfolding it, he saw an innocent child’s earnest plea
The man so rich and kind was moved at heart,
He from his wealth decided to donate a large sum,
To support that family of seven so severely distraught,
And give them the merriest Christmas to be no more glum.
The little boy believed Jesus has answered his prayer,
Coming in the guise of a man, he has never before seen.
With rising delight, he beheld in the sky a luminous star.
It shone right over his head with a brilliant sheen.
I am tastefully distraught,
Slanted with a poor posture.
A lonely...grotesque figure.
I am bold, not in confidence,
But in my flaws...with a beautiful mind.
My austere soul screams
Buried thoughts put to pen
Describe...the battered life I lived,
From the perspective of a genius.
My graphic appearance terrifies
But the beauty of my words balance,
With tortured and unique imagery.
My blemished existence,
Serves a higher purpose.
My smudged exterior...captured,
For the world to see and know.
I am the blurred dream
That became a reality,
Through the medium of art.
I am the disfigured face,
That served as a muse.
So often imagined, sketched, and painted
By the hands...of Francis Bacon!
I am a poet...
___________________________
Inspired by Francis Bacon's work
Apologies for the opprobrious actions that have been brought
For Thee, who descended from the exalted throne of Camelot
Patiently guiding and reminiscing of what has been forgot
My constituent tactics will forevermore be at naught
Ruminating and beholding rain for a garden's flowerpot
For introducing a valueless and unfruitful counter-plot
Being the barren soil, being the one who became a sunspot
Spoken before the unseen and plants encircled within earshot
The evoking morning rays of consciousness have caused some distraught
Occurred the substantial difficult admonition for one taught
Through time, traveling as a cosmonaut, change of heart, change of thought
Eons An Augenblick, please keep this seed inside the orchard’s plot
Updated 5/14/2019
Form:
We all want love and the ability to take flight tonight…
Can you help us take flight?
You are a grand light
In this world of woe - now, everything's black and white . . .
Can you help us fight the good fight?
You vanished from my sight
I’m feeling this sorrow…this neglect already
I will decide to move on today or tonight
I will soon be ready
To run the extra mile
With you for a while
Just smile and be with me
Till the end, we’ll be together in unity
You vanished from my sight
I’m feeling this sorrow…this neglect already
I will decide to move on today or tonight
I will soon be ready
To run the extra mile
With you for a while
Just smile and be with me
Till the end, we’ll be together in unity
Your eyes pierce me like needles…I’m lost and never found
Pull me down…gravity; I’m letting you pull me down,
For I’m already feeling down...wearing a crystal clear frown
I’m going down to the ground…I’m gravity-bound…without a sound
I'm as lost & distraught as a howling hound...
Who lost his owner - however, there is a possibility that he may be found...
Though your grief-stricken and forlorn,
Soon, you'll be safe and warm
In the arms of peace-abiding angels
Lament has brought me down and I have had it
You will see how it feels to be spellbound in my misery pit
Sorrow has weighed me down on the ground
Go ahead and push me around, you push-over - you won't see me around...
So, don't ask for me when you're in need
OOooh, come on, pig - feed on your avarice-indulged greed
When I found you in bed, you had just died.
I wept; my grieving lodged inside my head;
you clearly were gone—I was horrified!
As you lay still in bed, utterly dead,
the huge shock I felt could not be denied,
as tears gave way to muffled sobs and dread.
Mother, I always had longed for your love:
you loved the one who never for you wept.
When your tired spirit had risen above,
I knew my tears were hopelessly inept;
meanwhile, we all assembled to remove
your slumbering corpse as it quietly slept.
Hours passed when we all gathered for your wake,
a solemn event that was neither good
nor sane as we all tried (for pity's sake!)
to offer our condolences if we could.
You laid there like marble—no more awake.
A victim of fate, I felt like deadwood.
The final day arrived: the ceremony
was on Sunday, which was dark and sunless;
dream-like, bizarre, and strange, all was eerie.
Distraught, I was overwhelmed and bloodless!
As they gave your last rite and obsequy,
I, too, died more than words could ever express.
My Missing Muse
I have tried to write as of late,
but my mind has become a true blank slate.
My keyboard is bored and my ideas are bland.
I have to think of something grand.
Lately I lack poetic thought, thus I’m feeling quite distraught.
Maybe new themes will come to mind, if I read some antique poems of mine.
I have written about nature,
birds like ducks,
a child’s marker freckles,
a coffee cup.
A retired boat resting on the shore,
dirty socks behind a door.
I’ve penned 2 poems about Monet and VanGogh.
Now Degas? I don’t know.
Lady Di who danced in her royal gown,
but sadly now listens to angel sounds.
Her love for people was always increasing, but my poetic thoughts,now decreasing.
A teapot and a tuffet, diddle diddle dee.
A sweet little bundle came to me.
Blueberries grow on a bush not a tree!
Still no ideas will come to me.
Two tired tulips on my windowsill doze.
Three ladybugs on a daffodil pose.
Now is the time I need to compose!
A chorus frog’s peeping has a dancing beat,
clicking,
croaking,
repeat.
Jumping rope in heels, the teacher who tried her best.
Feathered fledglings sleeping in a Blue Egg mommy’s nest.
There is a wee granny in my apple tree.
Bring your appetite, then you’ll see!
Trees dressed in acorns
Protect our seas
Echoing owls between forest trees.
No new ideas coming into my head ?
My muse is hiding, I dread.
Cronkite,a reporting wiz,
closed the news, “That’s the way it is”
An unbiased journalist one could trust.
Integrity, sincerity and principles, a must.
TV shows,
Winter fairies on tiptoes.
Still I have the blank slate woes!
A path of moonlight, dragonflies.
Slowly summer says goodbye.
Soon the southern birds will fly.
Smell the season sunshine.
Crowds that cheer, “Alley Oop”
As basketballs find their longed for hoops.
Aunt Gloria was warm in her Irish blue.
Little boy Benjamin lost his little shoe!
His sister found it, "PEE U”
“Hooray” I cheer. Now it seems more clear, I feel my blank slate might disappear.
I’m suddenly feeling passion for more creative action!
Imagination,inspiration,determination!
My mental blankness is washing away.
New topics to write about, coming into play.
Now upside down silly fun.
To the writing teeter totter Marikate, have fun!
The sun disappears much, much later, an hour later to be exact.
This translates into having more daylight and a longer afternoon,
To watch the strolling peacocks in the park, and to have more fun
Admiring the baby bulbs metamorphosing into flowers at night.
The lily flowers are most of the time ephemeral, lasting hours,
Rarely a few days before changing into leaves, which eventually
Will be dried up by the warm air or the rays of the sun. Beauty
Is temporary, so enjoy the spring season and the summer flowers.
I have vivid memories of the shedding cherry tree, which brought
The beauty of spring in front of my house in the dead-end street.
Oh! I miss the atypical moment, when the green lawn was not neat.
Sometimes, the entire top of the hill was littered with falling flowers.
It was strange to sniff the unusual scent of the weather-beaten petals.
Oh! I miss the hours sitting on top of the window like a distraught cat.
Copyright © March 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Why do some people show their emotional side
When a loved one dies
It's a time when family and friends have to try
To except that only God gets to decide why
More often then not rational people get distraught
Let their personal feelings get tied in so many knots
When we act in this kind of disarray
About someone, we love and should only praise
Because they are at the end of a perfect ballet
Then it's our place to bring God's grace
We must remember to embrace
In no way do we want to look from heaven to see or hear
Of our loved ones who acted out in such fear
Nor do we want anyone to just disappear
It's about our pathway to God
In which we want all to relay
When it comes to the one we portray
We need not act in such an irrational display
It's about their inner core and all they stood for
The memories we all adore
Believing that there is no score
About one's life, we need to explore
Or what we can't see anymore
Because we are unable to live in the reality
To let their souls shine with such glee
We spend our whole lives gathering it all with such empathy
Our journey of connecting you all to me
Making it possible for all to see
Without our family tree that has come to be
Then our souls are never really set free
It really does matter what lives in our memories
So if you all can remember that, please
I don't want anybody to fight or disagree
Out of grief for me
Not when I spent my whole life building such a treasury
Of memories, I want to guarantee
To be filled with nothing but love and bliss
Of my gentle kiss of a time, we all reminisced
For all my friends and family to share their love for me
I want to believe we can all agree
How much you all mean to me
I get to go to heaven that made life worth living
So it's about my legacy
In all that life on earth turned out to be
Stow away the congeries of aches
overtly attenuating the life-force
Joints grinding bones as growing muscles waked
Oft, stomping like an apoplectic horse...
Under strained newness, a glum disposition
reeked nervousness, clamping a chest distraught
No diversity, glared their position
Such eyes that stabbed, could snap a breath taut...
Of schooling, what silent complacency!
Jailers with fingertip-busting dusters
or canes that cracked and smacked decency
Umber-burned bruises on smartened clusters...
Raking nails scratch to assuage a mind
New migraines need compulsory unwinds…
(4/23/21 For 'Aches Prompt' contest hosted by Constance La France)