Long Gloomy Poems
Long Gloomy Poems. Below are the most popular long Gloomy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gloomy poems by poem length and keyword.
I try
My very best
To be
Being
Is the purpose
Of life
Living
Only happens
Today
Daylight
Or in the dark
Live free
Freedom
Comes from knowing
Yourself
Self love
Is the first step
Not pride
Prideful
Selfish people
Are sad
Sadness
Can eat them up
Inside
In ways
I can't describe
Fully
Filling
Their empty hearts
With gloom
Gloomy
Shadows make them
Lonely
Alone
In the darkness
They cry
Crying
They truly crave
The light
Lightning
Flashes accross
The sky
Skyward
Their thoughts now flow
Humbled
Try out my Mussetle Train. Directions are on my previous poem.
Let's see if we can turn this into a freight train, Toot! Toot!
Please let me know if you try one out, I would love to see what
you come up with. It is fun to see where the train ends up after
leaving the station.
How gloomy is the dusky dark!
Now deep, deeper, a rusty black, so pale is the newborn thing,
Wondering if the blurry night was just a covering….
Pay attention to the magnetic, mechanical, maniacal midnight,
Nocturnal at its darkest hour of all.
Does the alluring night make you shiver?
Does it?
Indeed.
Beautiful sapphire is, in its way, the celestial skies of chromatic fire.
Beautiful desires - the true source of whispered dreams, imagery!
Loves delicate flowers…
A pale fawning entity, a continual flicker, dancing flame, a glow, in perpetual ink
However hard it tries
Will always be bright on a sapphire night.
A flame of candlelight - the true source of a dream.
Nighttime, a lifetime, a millennia ago, however hard it strains,
Will always be cooler, clearer, and insane...
Blind is the pale machine
Does the sapphire night desire indigo?
Will it make you shiver?
Does it?
Does it
…indeed?
Pay attention to the magical moon, tonight, and infinity….
The curtains drawn the room very gloomy
the stage free of debris and finally the
music plays at first it seems like I'm
dreaming my spouse his lover the mouse
I'm conducting this play as the velvet day
moves the shadowy figures about for I am
the mistro the ushers are a no show the crowd
began to beg for the director to open the
show soon the notes all off the pages are
torn my legs bleed my nerves right out of my
body the theme song so simple as a teen with
a pimple that burst right in me before the dance
silence please I must conduct from my knees for
they are sore my fingers tremble at deaths doors
as I open them for I am sure that the gods move in
full circle and right on cue the cello so broad so firm
takes my soul as the violins began to cry my mind sigh
for the crowd has stopped and followed the pitch
as the Bella screamed death to the poet
for my souls an empty theater
Written by Yolanda Nicholsen May 14 2004 Fort Myers Florida my sons graduation day from high school so many emotions that day i must have written 10 poems that day
December Eve
In the somber evening hours
I luxuriate in my peaceful surroundings
The sky outside is grim, brooding and pitch black
although it’s only 4 o’clock
“It’s a Wonderful Life” is on T.V. in black and white
Echoing the picture that is forming outside
I curl up underneath my fluffy throw
Settling in for the evening
My dog is barking on the couch
Complaining about the growling winds outside
The wind that is knocking on my windows
My sweet fur baby is shielding me from the noise that’s emanating from the weather
I grow tired and weary as the day drones on
I sip my cocoa as I dream about snowflakes, fir trees and flickering stars
The night is looming before me
I feel thankful that I am safe and warm in my cozy abode
While nature does its work closing the curtains on the day
The winter storm is upon us
Blizzard winds are blowing forth
This is the state of affairs for a gloomy December Eve
But all is perfect; All is well; God is at work!
Happy December Evening!
A gloomy song unfolds
Amid the chants for rights
Yet freedom wasn’t handed
Like centuries before .
Generations has emerged
And slavery has long been abolished
Left behind the scenes ?
Is it now a Modernised suppression ?
Same old routine that circles through many areas
Of our everyday life.
Relentless shaming and racial profiling ,
whitewashing history and institutionalized racism.
I have read,
Of bloody days and humiliating nights
Where black folks were oppressed and hanged.
I’ve seen and heard of the police brutalities happening everyday
And how black folks are shot and abused,
choked, and murdered in plain sight .
siblings are dying
Others are being caged
Some have been disadvantage by the system
Their kids now grow up with no mother and father figures .
Black lives matter: where did Arlington sterling go wrong ?
Black lives matter: Philando Castile’s baby saw it all in falcon heights
Black lives matter: may Gardner’s soul rest in power
Black lives matter ,the ghost of Trayvon still hovers around….
As we still march for change
For civil rights reforms wasn’t enough.
A black president wasn’t either
21st century couldn’t make the difference neither.
Black lives matter; please I can’t breathe
Black lives matter; the disparities in sentencing
Black lives matter ;Remembering Sandra Bland
Black lives matter ;risking whatever to protest for change.
As the carte blanche police watches on !
Amid the chants and the rage
Year 2020! facade equality lingers on
And Justice is still missing like centuries before,
In this land of the free .
The impressionist's young daughter
stands poised before an open door
Occupied in thought she wears
a red apron much darker
than her hair with a pony tail,
then a revelation stirs her curiosity-
outside trees are frosted with snow.
The chilly breeze swiftly enters and makes
the long curtains behind her flutter;
it feels colder than the Iceland wind,
Hesitant, she stays inside in the warmth.
Inside the room, her mom
smudges pastels onto
drawing. The child watched.
Mom captured her daughter's
wonderment in each chalked line.
Upon completion, child and
and painting; are compared;
the child won't be
able to distinguish
impressionism from realism.
The artist sought- after and
amply admiring this work
for the right- other sights
for her chosen colors
and creative images. Her hand
gave life to seasonal
landscapes, or blank faces
which stare straight at us
with an air of mystery.
From a background gloomy or gaudy-
they make us feel a sense of suspense.
.
Though gloomy, devoid of brightness’ stain,
Beyond the firmament… God sees me languishing in pain…
...with my heart pleading for His miracle to gain.
I praise Him… since from the sky,
He spreads to me His loving domain!
Though showing environmental discomfort,
Beyond the clouds… God hears me seeking for divine aid and support…
…with my cry begging for His help, my ultimate resort.
I thank Him… that from the sky,
He presents Himself as the steadfast fort!
Though radiating with stars so rare,
Beyond the earthly heaven… God knows me needing urgent care…
…with my soul longing for His assured welfare.
I worship Him… as from the sky,
He opens His throne where at His blessings I stare!
Though it seems to predicts calamity,
Beyond the space above… God understands me agonizing in my infirmity…
…with my faith clinging to His security.
I trust Him… for from the sky,
He assures His sovereign authority!
*Mark 11:22 And Jesus answering saith ... Have faith in God.
May 26, 2018
Edited on June 16, 2018
1st Place, "Late June 2018 Standard..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 6/21/2018.
The surge of self-centric storm blows in the desert of life,
I’m not aware a calm niche of bliss nestles in my heart,
fail to discover the concealed oasis of gentle ambiance,
not until the broken kaleidoscope of ruined lives I discern
ground in the grip of tempest of the ordained life’s turmoil.
The gloomy teary face of the hungry orphan child on road,
the opaque eyes of the petrified mother who lost her child,
deep silent sigh of the destitute resigned to destiny,
illumine my dark wilderness with the soul-searching beacon,
yearning to find the fountain of divine benevolence.
Garnering the gentle grace of God in the sanctum of soul,
the reservoir of overwhelmed humane feelings I empty,
assuage with hope the pain of those in fallen sky’s debris,
convey to them God’s eternal blessing of sanguine solace,
try to kindle faith in abyss of hearts with candle of kindness.
The sordid shadows from the pasture of suffering I remove
with astral aura of the supreme having thousand sun’s shine,
I concentrate my ruffled mind in serene depth of meditation,
learn to extract essence of ecstasy from focused consciousness,
try to see the lotus of bliss bloom in the vase of mindfulness.
THE CURSED DARKNESS
The day perish on which you were born
And the night in which it was announced,
A sinister dark child is conceived,
May light never, as usual, shine up in you,
The shadow of death claimed your soul,
Embolden and clothed thee with pain,
Cloud settled on it and becomes polluted,
The blackness of the day terrify thy territory
And thy birth rejoice not among the days of the year.
Our prayer that it come not into the number of the months
Did not eventually come to fruition.
The heavens willingly permitted thee though
But the earth groan and proclaim:
"Oh may thy womb be shut and thou be barren"
Because no joyful shout come into it.
Your morning stars are pitch-dark.
If men knew you would share a life with them,
They would have wished this world had rejected their entry,
For now they would be gracefully at peace
Like the dead who is completely at ease,
They would have been far asleep
With kings and heroes of the earth
Who built ruins for themselves
Or with Queens and Princes who had gold
And reign with Angels who will never be born
Or infants who never set sight on light.
But why can't you only associate with
Them that search for you more than rubies
And those who rejoice exceedingly at the graves clarion call
Instead of being an unwanted guest
To he who know not of thy gloomy coming;
The coming of death, the brother of darkness, the cousin of sleep.
The things a man greatly feared
Would 'prophetically' and definitely come upon him.
BEWARE.
REFERENCE: NKJV bible, Thomas Nelson (1978), copyright 1982, Job, pg 291.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2013.
A day is coming when your cash or gold
will truly be worth nothing (so far as I’ve been told),
and the only thing of which folks will want a lot
will be the things hardly anyone one day will have got.
For example – food we take for granted every day.
In the future we are sure to see it go away.
Some places will have drought – and others too much rain.
Sources of our food will all go quickly down the drain.
Inflation will set in; for us to get some food
might mean we have to ration it, and a rotten mood
will be displayed as people at the food bank stand in line.
We’ll see them acting very rude and have to hear them whine.
Police afraid to face big mobs will learn to simply flee.
What do you think will happen then to you and me?
If gas keeps going up, I bet few folks will drive.
We will all be trying simply to survive.
Imagine this: there is a bank where you need to go.
But it’s a bank for food – and what a traffic flow!
Robbers bust in – taking all the loot.
The bastards even take off with rotten meat and fruit.
Remember how beserk the public went
for just some toilet paper? But, oh what discontent
when stomachs start to growl. It won’t be pretty
when panic sets in to envelop all your city.
Out of empty food banks, people will be spilling
and into strangers’ homes! That thought sure is chilling.
If you've stored up food, are you prepared to fight
a world gone mad that wants your stash? Picture THAT great plight.
You think this all can’t happen. Oh, really?
Call me paranoid or just plain silly.
The way I see things going, good folks will have no gun.
Pack your things, take your kids, and prepare to run!
Aug. 10, 2021
(Sorry so gloomy; just picturing this kind of future.)
For Kai Michael Neumann' "Panic at the Food Bank" Poetry Contest