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.
Everything’s going down thanks to the tangerine clown
His cohorts blood sports “muppets” the collective noun
This lout every town does rout either drought or drown
Farce as the grass burns turns brown is so easy to frown
Naked truth everyone knows about Emperor’s new gown
Half baked common sense forsaked with his faked crown
Bereft at not deft sheer heft of non stop theft by top tier
Tries to smear races from other places & anyone que*r
Walk the plank every rank does spank cranks up a gear
It is clear this is the dystopian nadir the world does fear
Does appear the end’s near just jeer at all we hold dear
Bunkum as do strum our spectrum with their plectrum
Sneer at us out of their rectum.. but still no referendum
Fair dinkum is a nostrum atop the rostrum our panacea
Little wins that dampens the din of the mandarins sins
Society spins beaming grins replace steaming chagrins
Ignore the scheming as that’s how the dreaming begins
So let’s save the teens and free them from their screens
Let them see it’s not all about these mean online ravines
Prevent their descent as everyone does vent their spleens
Vanquish their anguish as do languish in internet latrines
Mother Nature has the sheens her kaleidoscopic canteens
Hypnotic colours she preens bathed & swathed in greens
Quixotic pleasure of leisurely stroll which your soul cleans
By any means chill your beans is a skill which’s in our genes
Shun despotic rhetoric be an envoy for joy of other cuisines
Weans ourselves out of the trough with our poetic vaccines
Exotic almost erotic scenes all feel like real kings & queens
So when that obscene tangerine clown again goes to town
Nature will be our saviour so come on do yourself a favour
So much free flavour to savour if you look up and not down
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
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
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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.
Most of my Lix spittle existence
found me figuratively
(primarily academically) adrift,
and malfunctioning blinker
analogous to a boat with
out an ankh (caws
away) aimlessly bobbing -
and drowning akin
to a besotted drinker
just out of rest to be
rescued by Mister Rinker
sea ming lee without
any hook, line and sinker
despite being gifted with
an above average thinker
from without, where two
myopic ocular
orbs did winker.
All thru academia
just barely passing grades
metaphorically
suffered from anemia,
and at my nadir,
thy prepubescent psyche
plummeted lovely bones
into grave state,
sans anorexia minus bulimia
mental health also linkedin
shot thru through with
healthy dose of dysthymia
cap (tinned em man hint mettle)
kept awake with insomnia
peppering cerebral
cortex with monomania
buzzfeed ding somnambulant
zombified condition
with a burning
desire toward pyromania
nsync with unmanageable
raging (red dee
and bull lush) testosterone
spawning satyromania
the above particularly
accentuated, and cresting
with accursed
triskaidekaphobia
most agonizing, when
orbitz around Earth
demarcated ten plus
on a Friday the thirteenth,
hence death be not proud
sought after utopia
pleading, longing, and hooping
if I Willoughby
able to sprinkle
cremated ashes across Xenia.
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?
Muddled, eyes slowly drift off to slumber.
Through labyrinth blackness, perception ambles.
Blurring thoughts, a carousel of blunders,
spell I'm under, waning motion rambles.
Unearthed from the nadir, dragged from hiding,
wedged in a dream embraced by the cold dark.
Awaken by my screams not heard; finding
it was a dream, leaving a chilling mark.
Surrendering streams of tears mar my face,
a victim of deep fears and silent screams.
Cradled in his affectionate embrace,
warding off baneful effects of my dreams.
Dreams of love, dream that take you into hell,
where unresolved unconscious problems dwell.
6/19/2017
The nadir of insanity, is engendered by a
controlling
Humanity, who on impulses of awareness
of mortality in all fairness.) Does
Propulse their very thinking.? And with efforts always plinking.' Whilst in despair and never blinking, dazelled by much lighting, and daubed in cosmetics..Its all rather frightening, and might well effect actions of health and thought connection.' Always dealing and extruding confidence
As precluding any workable continuam there is great proclivity, to? To? I'll term it
' turbo-binning ' as the waste of all their intense-ity.. biights earth and heaven with monstrosity's there is no
end to in truth; just 'oddity's' A 1970s car i'm told fired away.? I
Fail to see there beauty.. Rather insecurity its somewhat sad.. I sense, just some thoughts today.' As lost in denial.' Of reality (and certain files?) Not to mention trials.. They tinker with vials..Containing whatever.? Will make them. Younger;
ever clever clever.? To me its real alien, and why direction is failing.'
Its a loop despair ' and deep fear it seems that that drives them to eventually no-where.'
Written May 6th, 2026, for contest sponsored by Ink Empress
Prompt ~ Addicted to your Alchemy
*******************
Addicted to your alchemy—
I admit it without genteel restraint,
without the wherewithal to pretend
that this isn’t a selcouth, slow-burning undoing.
Your cuddles fired a flutter of ecstasy,
a golden glow gliding gently in my ribs,
switching my stolid stillness
into a fleeting void,
a longing that lingered,
leaping beyond limits.
I wretchedly return to the declivity
where your voice first broke my heart—
that susurrous, almost perfidious whisper
evocative vows, never venerated
I still recite it as if it were scripture.
There is a tristful sweetness in these moans,
a quixotry I cannot winnow from my bones.
Even today, your absence hones
similar to a stalwart shun
Draw me into that katabatic abyss
With virile, velvety-dark desire eclipses.
I strive to argue with myself—
a futile conundrum,
a colloquy with a heart too recalcitrant
to resile from the memory of your mouth.
Desire has its own sequacious logic,
It's tailored susceptibility
And I am guilty of every syllable.
You were always a little inimical,
a little officious with my longing,
Yet I let you inspissate my nights
with your half-truth heat,
your muliebrity or virility
(whatever shape you wore that hour),
Your sylphlike drift through my restraint.
And still—
I would sojourn in this sorrow again,
a sublime symphony of sprees
the sumptuous, smoke-soft torment
That leaves me wan,
yet wanting.
Addicted to your alchemy—
yes.
Because even now,
in the nadir of this night,
Your memory moves through me
akin to a clandestine partita
a dark-winged music
I cannot—
will not—
stop listening to.
Anger and I
We've seen the world together
Pulled each other out of predicaments
Big and bigger
And those trivial, solipsistic yet consuming
We've justified painful moments and inexplicable mistakes
Wrought with caked-on sobriety and confession
We've denied the passage of trusting souls
Through impermeable wastelands begging for harvest
We've crawled up and down slippery slopes
Whether we retained knowledge or not
Whether we knew the difference between the given nadir or zenith
And yet reveled at each arrival, crash-landing and all
We write and sing and bleat for each other
As the expressions of our inner beliefs ride the third rail
The resonant harmonies of destiny and desperation
Sketched by love gone right and wrong
Carved by Herculian notions that no one else can seem to bear or grasp
Leaving my friend and I
To arm-wrestle and embrace each other deep into eternity.
(12/25/11)