Long Nadir Poems
Long Nadir Poems. Below are the most popular long Nadir by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nadir poems by poem length and keyword.
The left side of a boat is called port. When facing forward toward the front of the boat (the bow), port is the left side,The right side of a boat, when facing forward (towards the bow), is called starboard.Boating Terminology: The front of a boat is called the bow.The back of a boat is called the stern.Spaceship sides are generally referred to using nautical terminology, with the left side called port and the right side called starboard.Based on the perspective of looking forward toward the front (bow). he top is dorsal or zenith, and the bottom is ventral or nadir.A submarine hull has two major components, the superstructure and the pressure hull.
"Jatlh micro bacteria vo' marineris ghap olympus Mons" the interupting Klingon in the front row spewed. Speaking to his concerns of teaching fairness in a world that has more Oceans than land. Speaking through the inturpter he said Kerkohvians, and Lanthanites don't swim on there home worlds, they signed a treaty with microscopic being it prohibited there, why are you teaching them this? The Kerohvain then asked where could he find a penguin, he had heard they were delicous and plentiful on earth, and he wished to have some as food. He saw them in the simulatur, and began a longing for there flesh. The Klingon stood and told him, such is forbiddened and if he hear of him eating a pengiun while he was on earth he'd destroy him, as pengiuns were on the do not eat list for visitors to earth. The Aqua Tank farms in the rear of the solaar system had farms were pengiuns were raised as food for those who wished them as food or pets for thsoe who had the accomidations to raise them. The Klingon grabbed him and told his again that succh is forbbiddedned here why speak it?
There’s a nadir of personal despair -
In feminine terms it’s - No hair, no flair!
My hairy genes caused me lifelong distress,
I longed for a look I didn’t possess.
I daydreamed of golden locks as a girl,
Blessed with neither a wave nor with a curl.
Straighter than hay mine hang in disarray,
Cradle to coffin - lifelong bad hair day.
And so pertaining my hapless hirsute
I was braided, I ironed in my pursuit.
Slept with hard rollers, a perm I did try,
And lots of hairspray, that’s how I went by.
In vanity’s name I bent backwards in vain
Since straight and straighter my old locks remain.
No quiescent coiffure is meant for me -
Distressing tresses are my destiny.
Sleep escaped,
Without a farewell,
She had not the grace
To aspire my light,
She proved to be darker
Than her gaze,
Glaring, glowering,
Glowing with madness,
Bipolar’s destroyer – two sides of the coin
Despair, dread, doubt – depression
Delight, elation, wired – manic
Stages of dark and light,
Day and night,
A breath, a prayer, a silence
Flooded with fire –
Cold, brilliant desire….
Where she kindles a flame,
A feeling, a flavor
Peppered with light,
But pouring out – fight or flight,
Willing the spirit to mute
What is a glorious ruse.
Nadir deceptions in the form
Of acceptance, darkness and light,
Fading into day, then night,
Manic depression – bipolar like
The questions
That come to life
When there is no prescription,
Killing the sparklers
Within my mind, within my brain
Where bipolar is made
From two pieces of a maze,
A labyrinth who prays,
For God’s healing touch,
His endless grace,
Overflowing my cup, bringing
The chance to wake up
From the sleeplessness that pursues
Enemy of His truth,
Insomnia, the ruse!
I have mirrored the whole of my life
On this mercurial surface
I have painted myself on this glossy canvas
My pen has bled words in red
You can look straight into me
As you see my reflection on a mirror
I have sketched me as I am
Honest and truthful,
Sans distortion or contortion
I don’t want to be a sham
Here have I laid bare my life
Fraught with aches, dotted with smiles
My longings and my heart aches
My expectations, my disappointments
My triumphs, my defeats
My search through every nook n’ cranny for success
My plunge into the nadir of despair on defeat
My moments of escalating joy
My dark hours of crippling distress
Everything I wanted to be
Everything I failed to be
Please have a peek into my porous heart
Assess this candid chronicle of my life
And tell me if my soul is black or white
Sometimes I feel I am a life boat without oars
Floating aimless hither and tither
But I see light houses of joy in between
To pilot my way over shoals and breakers!
May. 5.2022
Placed Third
In the Mirror of Life Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anoucheka Gangabissoon
the night as black as a newly broken heart
increasingly
the crescent of a single sly smile
outshone the vast stellar firmament
an enigmatic, ephemeral shooting star
subsequently
with a twinkle twinkle in her eyes
counting down to our jovial Jupiter joyride
waxing poetic on a comet's cosmic course
and
life was
Full
inevitably
eclipsed by a brighter constellation
diminishing her gorgeous gibbous glow
our penumbra luminosity reached its nadir
ultimately
her heavenly smile inverted
my waning orb fell from her orbit
i splashed down in a cold, lonesome ocean
the night as black as a newly broken heart
Written 14 Aug 2022
Written: May 2nd, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Seth Pina
Based on the Poem: The Artist
5th place contest winner
******************
It begins as a breath, barely born—
a lucent little longing that should have stayed liminal,
Yet it irrupts, unabated,
threading itself through the chiaroscuro of my thoughts.
I tell myself it is otiose,
a passing flicker, a quixotic quirk of the mind—
but it grows tensile, treacle-thick,
a rumbustious rhapsody refusing to evanesce.
Your name—your very sobriquet—
becomes a mellifluous mantra,
an epizeuxis echoing in the marrow,
a chant I never meant to memorize.
I wander through hours like a wayward opsimath,
learning too late how fixation forms its own theology—
how a single presence can become
a sacrosanct symbiosis of ache and awe.
Every thought is festooned with your outline,
every silence redolent with your imagined breath;
even the air feels janiform,
half mine, half yours,
as if the world itself has chosen sides.
I try to exculpate myself
from this inchoate imbroglio,
but obsession is a sagacious sherpa—
It knows the steepest path
and drags me up it anyway.
And still—
beneath the nadir of night,
in the hush where hubris dissolves—
I feel the truth unfurl:
That obsession is not hunger,
nor hubris,
nor hecatomb of reason—
but the amaranthine ache
of wanting to witness beauty
so completely
that it finally
witnesses you back.
NADIR
I never thought it got as bad as this
But surprise surprise, it really has now
Who would guess being hit when down
Like the last moment before you drown
It has all gone awry, I don’t know how
If only I could give this moment a miss
It is truly the nadir of my life to date
Will nothing good now ever survive
All can now see that I’ve fallen apart
And may even die of a broken heart
As yet more bad luck may still arrive
All I can do is patiently sit and wait
There were times when I was at the top
The zenith some call it, being up there
I looked down but never really thought
That I would hit bad times of any sort
I’ll find a way to pay it all back, I swear
Please make this wretched sadness stop
Born into a landscape,
Not quite littered with landmines,
But the occasional hole -
Holes that seem inescapable,
Like quicksand -
When I fall, I just keep falling.
Where is the bottom, the nadir?
It's impossible to know.
It's impossible to get out,
Like being captured in a whirlpool,
My only direction is in and down.
Like a lost spider in a toilet bowl
When it's flushed.
A vicious cycle -
The only direction is down and in.
I live in fear of these holes.
Above ground,
I find friends and pleasures,
Challenges and detractors,
But nothing I can't handle.
Once I fall in,
And approach the vortex,
I'm hopeless.
There is no pleasure.
My friends don't understand.
There is no way out.
There is no bottom.
I can only fall -
In and down.
Yet, I'm living proof
That one can escape.
Perhaps, I began in a kind of vicious cycle
A cycle of anger,
A cycle of hate.
Cycles upon cycles,
Round and round,
With no escape.
Tit for tat,
It seems such cycles
Can only deepen.
But, somehow, I got out.
It took time.
Like George Harrison said,
"All things must pass".
A few times, I fell in love.
It was like being pulled into a vortex,
Without choice.
My heart was broken.
Somehow, I got out.
It took time.
All things must pass.
Once, suddenly,
My health was dealt a blow,
Resulting in physical pain,
Sending me,
Down, down, down.
I thought I could never get out.
I still have the health problem,
But I'm out of the hole.
It took time.
All things must pass.
Once, suddenly,
I lost my girlfriend.
I lost my job.
I lost my house.
I lost my family.
The ground under me was removed,
I found myself with strangers
on Christmas day.
Even there, I was unwelcome.
And I fell down, down, down.
But I'm out of the hole.
It took time.
All Things Must pass.
I live in fear of these holes,
And I think I'm pretty good at avoiding them,
But there is no guarantee,
And I never know
When I will fall
down, down, down.
I'm sure many people
Have likewise fallen deep
Into seemingly hopeless
vicious cyclic whirlpools
Of despair.
I wonder,
If even whole societies,
Can suffer
Vicious cycles,
Tit for tat,
Of of hate, hopelessness, ignorance,
And despair,
And, if so,
One day, this too,
Shall pass.
symbol of contrast
like Noah's ark in harsh storm
captivation norm
endurance am I
alluring in mountains rest
winters embrace test
integrated light
across wild echoes stoic
exudes pure stillness
delicate yet tough
unassailable maiden
artists awed humming
alchemists delight
aligned with capricorn's might
pristine determined
raw unadorned self
expresses inner kingdom
nourishes itself
secrets in dark roots
poison perceptual moot
duality hoots
sacrifice and faith
face adversity with grace
revelation brace
with each unclasping
petals open mystical
surrender holding
scent nascent nadir
sacred self-preservation
authentic profound
quiet verdict holds
love is not parasitic
terrifying peace
contemplate christmas
quest each due ecstatic depth
silent witness bear
so do I exist
cold thorns after each snow dawn
god's love not forlorn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As time ticks, the outside woven souls make up our world.
I am in an impregnable world, quite challenging and competitive.
The sun casts shadows through the large windows upon the large study,
where I sit behind my desk, exposing the darkened room.
Trying to ignore the piles of unopened bills.
Feeling overwhelmed, looking at a letter stamped “Final Notice.”
I opened and read it, wishing it would disappear.
The bank's final repossession notice.
Feeling in a downward spiral shell, praying to be rescued.
I put in as many hours working to make everything go right,
but it was just not enough.
Finding myself reaching the nadir of my despair,
I knew now my emotions were hard to conceal.
Reflecting on the beginning, I thought it would be easy;
I was mistaken.
Whispering,
"Lord, if it is your will, please help guide me in this crushing storm I'm in,
and bring the calm of the waves' embrace."
12/1/2025