Long Melancholia Poems
Long Melancholia Poems. Below are the most popular long Melancholia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Melancholia poems by poem length and keyword.
Never intended to cause pain
verklempt knowing my words brought tears
such sadness I wish I could wane
and quell any and all your fears
Tried to build up a pedestal
whence a Goddess - you - can have rule
never fathomed you'd be dismal
now I'm feeling like a fat mule
Could I possibly be so dumb
to think that this could not occur
that result has left me so numb
both my heart and brain can concur
What made me think - at twice your age
that my words would so flatter you
alas, I am no such great mage
the day I wrote those words I rue
Melancholia has begun
I'm not able to raise my face
'til beams shine again from your sun
and I chained in my evil place
The anatomy of a poet’s heart ebbs and flows~
sometimes like the swirling ocean,
fluent in idyllic idioms and mystical metaphors,
woven from aesthetic elements of nature,
for inspirations glide through warm waves,
crashing on shores, when emotions rise with turbulent tides.
Yet today the turquoise seems lusterless,
gloomy clouds overshadow every faultless ripple,
that shines and rhymes amidst cruel currents of time,
leaving ink afloat in blackened seas of sorrow,
reminiscing sapphire blues that unfurled artistic skies,
and here I lay my dreams on an oceanic bed,
embellished with rainbow pearls and rubies,
concealing oozing torrents gushing out of aching arteries,
while magical hues merge with magenta melancholia,
as amethyst afterglows adorn the hushed horizon,
I remain poetically stable…
I had to quit and cut off something to introduce peace
Peace, inside me
And peace around me
I had tolerated behaviors that was causing too much outrage
Outrage, a word that I lost an appetite for
And the only way to be safe enough was to lose them
I understood too much that I no longer had a space for growth
Indeed, some me before doesn't exist today no more
It is quite a liberating feeling
Liberating, because it doesn't cost me my peace to celebrate and enjoy life
Few friends, quality is much better than quantity
I remember
I used to have a lot of them
But the ones left are the truest
We are all evolving and growing
Those pains of losing them
Teaches a lot of value, realizations, melancholia
And quite an experience
All of us would carry forever
So losing isn't something painless
But it is one way to grow, to liberate from chaos and destruct we once thought was peace
To the versions of ourselves that doesn't exist today anymore
I hope it gave us something that spices up the newest versions of ourselves in the more meaningful way as it resonates the good and bad
With pupils that flicker like lanterns,
your eyes are the stuff of carnal fantasy.
Instantly hypnotized by the patterns,
I could hardly believe their silent poetry.
I have heard people talk of vampires,
it seems the true definition is different.
No, not night flyers but drug suppliers.
Haunted adults desperate for utopia,
fall hard for this breed of melancholia.
Heated hyperventilating blood churns
in awe of such uncivilized beauty.
Alarm bells fail to mention concerns,
I am now left in ruin shattered lethally.
How can I abide your whispers as liars?
To avoid the voice of a saint is heresy.
Baby, you call me to sin fanning wildfires.
Diving in head first to battle a phobia,
it’s no match for you my philophobia.
Every dusk of the dawn he rises to immanent blues
Melancholia like echolalia embraces his morning
Combatting the blaze and blinded by mourning
He settles for the day whatever the weather inside
Scorching steps in the heat he rides waves of the river
Tears have dried up the rays of light that were his
And will be when solar floods shadow muddy prisms
He is a dweller quelling in sadness for what seems eternal
Moments and yet his sorrow is finite will be kindled by love
Saved by a rainforest of shelter in the warmth of her kindness
He kindles Mother Earth and wakes up to his soul mates’ smile
Before long when his whine has turned water he drinks from
The fountain ingests the fire on his skin saved and restored
Soon Sunna and Neptune dance in tune with each other and
Showered by sunshine reigns of rainfall enlighten what becomes
back door breeze.
relief from sophistry.
sounds of ink
dipping into darkness.
I see moonbows,
or I’d like to; believe
in wings of brightness,
breath of sweet season.
quicksand takes my breath.
soothing tunes of velvet
like romantic violins
reel me in; I need briskness -
a cold blast. I need leaves
to relieve my melancholia.
don’t refuse me the hues
of Autumn, a drift of falling.
my mind is an abstract vase,
adorned with
crystal gold lines~
from pixelated pearls
homing
whimsical wishes
and
blue-rose reveries,
a Picasso paradox
painted
with
sculptured serenity...
but as violin warmth
of melancholia
ricochets in
hypnotic cadence
listen to the
lethargic starlight
orchestrate a concerto ~
depicting this tired tongue,
s e a r c h i n g
for a major chord
of magical mellifluence
to summon the
silver
of your
citrine moon...
for when i n k
flows between
sun-blushed seas
in feisty meter
I still trace your
blue-blaze vibrance~
drawing an ardent ambience
of l o v e
before the r a i n...
Alex is not an ordinary woman
troubled with depression and autism
struggling with transgender identity
she lives in her own world
a bubble of disorientation and discomfort
unable to reach out to others
when pain gets unbearable
and as days and insomniac nights pass by
she hovers on the brink of suicide and self-harm
not able to express the emotions that torment her
the inner world resembles a mine field
shrapnel and debris galore
short fuses ready to light
a smouldering battle ground
guns and grenades blazing
as she fights her own battle
against her persona and mistaken belief
of being unworthy guilty and at fault
when in reality she is own of the most beautiful people
you will ever be blessed to meet
phone calls unanswered
messages unread
a vacuum of no responses
echo of darkness
at lightning speed of despair
it does not help her
that I can feel her pain
reason her plight
absorb some of her confusion
could carry some of her baggage
take the weight of her shoulder
my own issues are
mostly luxury problems
some dealt by life with uncertain blows
others of my very own making
my swedges and brawls are light weighted affairs
moderate melancholia offers a strange comfort zone
on their own and I should not have to
complain about lack of purpose
when all my material needs are easily met
and a slump here or their seems near insignificant
and yet I wish sometimes
that just for a few moments
I could simply reflect
and thereafter feel nothing at all
08th February 2023
The maple leaf of autumn is now crisp crimson,
shortly ere sun-bronzed skin simmered lumened
I indulge with the saddened left behind to wither,
these not listful ears awaiting beckoning me hither
Hours freeze, minutes in tow, the world halts,
when pains chronic symptoms claim free of faults
Suspended in time lingering in liminal limbo,
indefinite neglect being its sanctified symbol
Decline is a beginning I politely pick up the pieces,
within my confines the endless summer ceases
As a recurring familiarity in the distant breaches
shadows sweep at dusk attaching as leeches,
feeding on a sueded soul, voiding bruised veins,
hallow numbness in my chest is all that remains
Love weeps salt tears brined with both joy and sorrow,
fasting with false hopes macerating raw tomorrows
Ache tests how much weight my heart can hold,
I’d glide into the dolostone matrix, I’d break the mold
What is shared binds two souls along with betrayal,
and only feeds this fervor, savior this is where I fail
Arrows dart freeing these eyes of debited desire,
through a heart, a flame that had once felt fire,
suffering knows that I and I only hold love blame,
at a time when two accomplices felt the same
A brief breeze during a feverish Roman August
foolish pride thwarted lost, what won, writhes lust,
whys are worn, days don’t pass, nights don’t end
Sextilis its name should’ve kept, allotting to transcend,
moods madness ‘neath moon’s tortuous tattletale’s
of September’s blighted face flurrying gust strewn gales
I now stand in a place of my own crowned in pearled onyx,
reborn upon the highest thrown, I drink fortitude’s tonic,
'till September’s sapphire emanates from melancholia,
here you come again, shattered dreams laden with insomnia
At the time of night that men call 10:30,
I sit in a corner bar by myself,
Watching two tables---
Clusters of life and sound---
A softball team and their wives/girlfriends/lovers
Drinking softly into the evening
A child's face, released from mother's side,
Floats around the tables,
Serene and white in tavern dusk,
Asking a quarter from each adult
Until finally someone gives him one
To make him gone
And for the millionth time
I look into the mirrored tile behind the bar
And see you there beside me
You're looking down---
Digging through your purse---
And the wound that never heals
Opens just a little more---
A quarter's worth---