Long Doldrums Poems
Long Doldrums Poems. Below are the most popular long Doldrums by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Doldrums poems by poem length and keyword.
Just last week, Winter storms made the front page,
while today’s headlines are all about Spring,
Hailing the changes, only She can bring:
like warm breezes, to disarm Winter’s rage.
But like the musings of a wizened sage,
the doldrums of Winter maintain their cling.
And the Robin Redbreast must wait to sing
until this premature Spring comes of age.
It’s cloudy outside and threatens to snow,
as temperatures dip below zero.
And a sulking sun refuses to show;
while thoughts of an early Spring quickly go.
And yet, though Spring fled, She’s still my hero
for giving me two warm days in a row.
As days grow longer, melancholy creeps
An uninvited guest, which winter brings
It dims the candle my mind tightly clings
Consuming light, from darkness whence he leaps
In doldrums dark, my heart held captive weeps
Held hostage by north winds that bite and sting
Entombed by winter's chill, awaiting spring
Time slowing to a crawl whilst nature sleeps
But then one day in March, an equinox
The light begins to overtake the dark
In color, daydreams dawn as dark does fade
Sad melancholy flees through fields of phlox
Now freed from winter's bonds, my heart embarks
To chase spring's sun into the summer shade.
by Daniel Turner
Written: January 09, 2024
_____________________________________
Seen through a sepia scale
Drab grief, of hiemal cradle
mirthless, a desolate land
shrouded in frozen doldrums,
amid solemn ripples
on threnody and sizzle
akin to a gentle sway
with a oneiric, susurrous
tambourine wave of yore
rain whistles in tune
of doodles in gold and silver.
Swells of silk
of a hypnotic spell—origami
wispy petrichor wafts!
It was tender
ignominious mayhem
of withering earth
sadly surprised
amidst golden neon notes
and vermilion,
as stricken soil stirs.
And flushes in luscious tones
of singing and crystals
as daffodils and clover bloom
amidst webs of aurelian curls
a fairy's rhapsody,
let spring song rise!
each seed that is still alive
hope will sprout subtly,
to refuel the soul
from the cosmic womb.
Wars will hinder any way to harmony
and allegiance to nations
Earth is our vast home
we purport as world healers
send me a melody
smoother than embers
we're rooted in clay
as melody with thawing knack
once I visualized piano tunes,
each tone evoked anguish
yet, our sonata is harmless
paramount of my persona
beyond brink of kismet
we ought to sigh and cry
sultry concerto
In a garden labyrinth.
The ribbon is cut
The die is cast
The cement is dry
Yet nothing lasts
The brazen rewarded
The hero a fool
All reason outdated
New fury the tool
A journey presented
Your ship to go far
With doldrums eclipsed
By the light of new stars
The lands will seem foreign
The people most strange
But they’ll smile as you pass
And call you by name
You run and you run
And you run from it all
With no map to guide you
The albatross calls
And then sweet intention
Returns from respite
Rephrasing the unmentioned
Where maybe you might
In fear of the tonic
All healing disdained
Right, left-side disjointed
The cork from the drain
The covers pull back
Your bones are now bare
The tiller is slack
And there’s nobody there
So you take to the helm
Hands firmly in place
And you care not a whit
If it’s all empty space
As a raven is perched
On the yardarm so high
A land bird that lurches
Cawing all truth a lie
And you wonder then maybe
Have you wandered too far
As you ladle the future
From a long empty jar
The wind starts to move
A gift from the moon
What’s whole has been halved
And the sun almost noon
The rigging is creaking
The mast ever tall
The wind has died down
With no new ports of call
The feeling still burns
In the fire within
To find that one thing
That unfound—to you sings
The ocean is flat
The seas become calm
The seasons repeat
From reflection embalmed
The night sky is clearest
The darkest the days
The winds have escaped you
Adrift you now stay
But then just a wisp
Of a breeze on your cheek
Portends of a magic
And the vision you seek
It strengthens and gushes
Throughout all the night
As the red sky last evening
Had hinted it might
As the headsails go up
The big linen comes down
And you climb up the mast
Stepping over a frown
The creak of the lapstrake
Splashes over the bow
The present’s in sight
Incarnate right now
You look down on a lifetime
In this moment of joy
As the smell of the brine
Covers anything coy
And an Island approaches
From the mist up ahead
As the stillness reproaches
And retreats to its bed
The wonder returns
All speculation begins
Of the magic you’ll find
In this newness again
At the top of a mountain
Strange trees then appear
In a shape that’s uncertain
Neither familiar nor clear
(continued in part two)
Ho hum, the doldrums:
I twiddle my thumbs
and scratch my bum.
I bumble ‘round,
and when I’m done,
I murmur, mumble, humph and hum.
Ding-dong, the same old song:
I bang my drum
and clang my gong;
I even brought
my bell along.
Tinkle, ting, naw, that’s just wrong.
Tick tock, flip flop
My brain is oozing
gloopy glop.
That metered click:
where is my glock?
Bang! that clock and make it stop!
Pitter pat, what’s that you say?
Rin tin, rain on the roof today!
I’ll squish and splosh and dance and play
and splash those doldrums right away!
----------
for the Onomatopeia Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
written on 07/02/2022
The wait seemed eternal to feel inspiration.
Minutes were mountains as each one ticked by,
my hand poised grasping a pen, and then
seated without hitting one stroke on a key.
A closed mind submits nothing, zero and zilch
in a life that's been deeply anchored
in the annals of an abyss shrouded by opacity.
Somewhere between midnight's noirs
and the misty grey flow of morning fog,
I'd fallen into a cavern, deprived of light.
I'd built a bulwark fortress that fenced me in
and the key to my cell... held in my own hand.
I brandished a pen that became a sharpened sword
that hacked and sliced at my every written word.
My dreams were gone, along with life's sensation.
No wonder I could not find a cause for inspiration.
A poet who doesn't write is of no use, none at all.
I stood at the edge of a cliff ~ should I jump or fall?
Sounds of laughter caught the attention of my ears
and through eyes blurred by tears,
I saw children running along the water's edge.
Hesitant, I decided to watch them from upon the ledge.
I sat atop the cliff with legs overhanging that day,
wishing I was a child of ten again to join in their play.
"Well, poet," spoke my muse. "Are you a withered bloom?"
A scolding for thinking of naught but notions of doom
A flurry of fussing she threw at me, hassling like a Harpy.
Exactly what I needed for living in doldrums of gloom.
"Now, see what you've done," she was decidedly terse!
"Your burden is that you always begin in free verse
but always end up writing lines ending in rhyme.
You continually do that. Time after time."
My laughter was louder than the children at play
who stopped traipsing in the surf to look up my way.
A wave of my hand and down to the beach I ran.
Inspiration filling me like waves crashing upon the sand.
The cares of the world, are weighing me down.
To the point, that I wanted my thoughts; to drown.
Bills owed, finding their way to the mail box.
I want to pay them, but; I have too many roadblocks.
Collectors harassing day in and day out on the telephone.
Even on the "do not call" list they still won't leave you alone.
I try and develop a plan to suppress the harassment.
That didn't last very long, or even bring any appeasement.
The greedsome collectors send a pile, that is a waste of trees.
Just to collect their "grub" and jacked up hideous fees!
Then the greedsome collectors called me at work!
I called them back mad and was about to go berserk!
Then I received a whopping medical bill.
I felt so sick with disgust, I think I feel "ill".
In the mail was a pink envelope and what was inside?
An insurance bill that read "if not paid" then services denied.
I come home from my job feeling somber and "spent".
I opened up my check, of course; the government took their "cent".
They say when it rains, it pours.
Life’s tedious doldrums but, a different day; and more downpour!
After winter’s doldrums, drab and dark,
the sight of you spells days filled with light.
You fill my heart with the ecstasy
of fun-filled days for fantasy.
Your full, fresh, face, flush, lily-white
remind of Christ’s who’s shone with light,
on that Sunday resurrection morn,
the day when hope for mankind dawned.
Your trumpet shape heralds a note
of hope-filled days pursuing pleasure.
Your purity reflecting light
dispels the dark of winter’s gloom.
I long to see your smiling face
and have you grace my humble dwelling
with fragrant scent so sweet and strong,
reminding me of God’s great grace.
Eyeless, forehead-less amoebae-like dull cloud piece,
Resembling, other times, a mermaid in white fleece;
Silly soul! Yet, engendering panic just like,
The Satan? Beelzebub? It spins my psyche...!
Chemicals of stories heard seep into my mind,
Sensory organs stand erect, to fear, resigned;
When the moody mind molds it into a monster,
Personality proves paranoid-prone poker...!
I used to find one in the neighboring forest,
Betwixt barks of trees it cooed as though chorused;
Midst tall-grown grassy bushes it leisurely strolls,
With the breezes, winds, storms, gales, and doldrums it scrolls...!
Ghost has been growing up within my flesh and blood,
In my thoughts and feelings and actions, it flings mud;
Though the concept of ghosts is a mere illusion,
Is my mind ready to get rid of its fusion...???
22 February 2023
Writing Challenge - G Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Transcendence
Winter strides past halcyon autumnal daze
On sweeping ariels of barren hues
Brittle bones of blue with fiery breath
Sun drench soul icicles marrow like nebula stars
When decrepit doldrums descend
As winter Daphne slowly returns
Her satin clusters, in chilled fragrance, bloom
Then flood lassitude with transcendence
To intoxicate icy vapors of wistful wandering.
Early harbinger ascends above the solstice
When vernal visions transcend hibernation
Dormant malaise and feeble sight,
Blurred by floating cataracts of blizzards,
From dark welkins raw melancholy’s cadence flutters
To glimpse enchantment in hindsight -
The sweet scent of butterflies and bees -
As Daphne coaxes a threadbare season
Into a blackberry winter of vernal vitality.
1-11-22
Contest: This or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen – Transcendence
Blackberry winter is a synonym for spring.
Welkin is a synonym for sky.
I have two pots of winter Daphne by my front door. They bloom in January.