Long Somber Poems
Long Somber Poems. Below are the most popular long Somber by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Somber poems by poem length and keyword.
A storm is brewing in the azure ether
Somber clouds loom with thunderbolts
Shadows enshrouded small seaside town
Tides crashes with ire against the rocks
Inner turmoil seethes in Lara's addled mind
Racing thoughts haunt through the years
Double personality was an escape from reality
Evincing the forbidden behavior by society
Cloudburst flooded the fishing coast by hours
Paralyzing a town when time seems stand still
Waterspout appeared in the fierce ocean waves
Desolating Cape Fishing Town without mercy
Shiny sun rays appeared in the sky after the storm
As a sign of hope between the desolated scene
Lara came out from the basement used as shelter
The inner and outer tempest concluded synchronously
For A Storm Is Brewing Contest
Sponsored by Kelly Deschler
Fifth Place
4-17-2016
Rainy days and Mondays guide my journey
Looking for rich harvest in barren fields,
Disappointing me with grudging demeanor
For you my love have never lived there.
My morning awakens as if from a dream
Roaming still, to capture feelings of glee
Set free by your soul departing mournfully,
Looking meekly at what could have been.
Though the butterflies still roam our lawn
No longer do they invite forlorn dawn
To glisten rose-blossoms you left behind
Knowing they too have lost their charm.
Winds keep twirling remnants of fragrance
Hoping rich-scent will mimic your presence
Discarding sullen gloom of rainy day vibes,
Ignoring pessimism of despondent skies.
As I set out to write: together we belong,
Words I penned changed their meaning
Soon after a comma held me spellbound,
Shifting my verses to form a somber song.
February 21, 2018
Placed first in mid-January 2019 contest by Brian Strand
Placed 2nd:Rainy days and Mondays contest by Silent One
All alone, just by myself—
weary step after weary step
leaving this wily world behind.
Down by a sun-dappled trail,
a serene pathway beckons my heart.
I stroll under a tranquil canopy of trees
where the light uplifts my spirit
and the shadows soothe my soul.
The aroma of blossoming flowers
strives to set me free from
the restless nights and trying days,
persuading my forlorn heart to venture forth
anew on life’s long and wearisome ways.
Why then must I in anguish weep?
Why do I for heaven aspire?
There, welcoming shadows entice me
toward a somber seclusion,
where tranquility permeates the landscape.
Silence, spreading its wings,
sets out to soar into the domain of solitude—
where I seek quietude,
where I find sanctuary.
Oh, why shouldn’t the simpler things in nature
prevail over our lives once again?
~Tranquility Poetry contest
~Sponsor: Constance La France
A poem is not a poem if it does not
have death on its mind. The joyful and uplifting
is for the witnessing of summits
yet behind that revelation,
a hushed spirit walks to the gravesite.
The light and bouncing sparrow
nests under the somber hood of the ebon crow.
Words grow from the ecstatic pain of creation,
they sing of love and splendor,
but let the drowned sailor have his walk-on part.
If you write of eternal things, then give death its due,
for one must be the garb for the other.
God in Her fortress of infinite love
let’s grim death stalk even the brightest muse,
She allows the mad fancy of romantic love
a place to die and be reborn again.
Then when a sweet poem hints also of death
it will tell of a greater knowing of love and life,
and not be just some piece of a lesser truth.
How you doin'?
Why are you feeling
how we are doing
here in our unspoken thoughts?
Right now
here
perhaps far from our deep
primordial feeling
reservoir
Of what are your passions
doing?
Abundant warm regarding
spacious compassion
Or cold scarcity of time
to not thrive together
much less apart
From healthy Me,
polypathic
wealthy We
PolyPhonic Muses
deeply engaging
more wellbeing dipolarity
richly co-arising
Rather than merely LeftBrain amusing
choices Win/Lose ZeroSum deluding
We Win
so Other Loses
While entertaining linear cause-effective
traumas
of felt scarcity,
dark isolation,
somber anxiety,
anticipating dissonance
Pre/Post Traumatic
cognitive v affective disempowerment
violent internal reactionary
bipolar
LeftBrain monotheistic
Either DivinelyGood
or HumanNatured FailingSin
Deductive
reductive StraightWhite PatriarchalCapitalist
or Othering
not market ready
for optimizing AnthroSupremacist
predative opportunities
To re-evaluate how we
are LeftBrain and RightMind
doing
Responding to AnthroSupremacism
while feeling RightBrain
Both/And Win/Win
suppressed/oppressed
into seeing only Win/Lose risks
and Lose/Lose despair
Disregarding our shared
Whole Open
yet WarmWombed
Original Sensory/Sexual regenerating system
Integrally
fractally
octavely
dialectically
bilaterally
mindbody
time-spaced
identified/individuated
EgoSelf/EcoOther
overwhelmingly repressed
By what passions
doing?
Win/Lose ZeroSum
survivalist scarcity
suppressed
Subclimatic
monocultural duress
Deep and wide
anxiously depressed
Sometimes more
and sometimes less.
Thanks for asking.
And how are you
too a mess?
Greys, Part IV
Grey is somber, not hopeless
In grey is our suspension
Between unclear alternatives
In greys we form our judgements
And divide What Is from What May Be.
Listen, Listen, Listen -
To the tired sounding of the winds
Announcing the advance of the evening's shadows
And weigh and form opinions
Draped in grey.
At any time,
On two sides of this globe,
Daylight and Nightdark are meeting
In perpetual sunset and sunrise 'round the world
On one side perpetual dawn,
On the other, Eve -
They blend in indistinction
Merging with the starstrewn space
The Nothing which containeth all.
In our small time we have dared to define
The Nature and Simplicity of God,
Tried to dissect
The clockwork formed and set in motion
Forcing Order out of Chaos
Meaning from madness.
These things we have described, defined
Fought over
Advancing theories and rejecting them one by one,
Running in wide circles back to where we not so long ago began,
Through every cycle the result has been the same -
We battle our own understanding, immersed in seas of grey.
It seems that God is just God:
A Being Beyond and Above
The weak reach of new minds such as ours.
So the Ghost in the Machine whispers,
Telling tales of subtle comprehension,
Though we heed them not.
We are the Watchers in the dim Shadowland,
We the listeners for the Voice of Truth.
We search for we know not what,
Picking jewels along the way.
Upon a desert's silent sea of sand,
A tower stands with strength upon the land.
Its hue, a blazing red in sun's embrace,
Yet darkness hovers, casting mystic grace.
A contradiction painted 'cross the sky,
Dark clouds and sunshine vying, none comply.
The tower's shadow stretches 'long the ground,
A solitary sentinel, profound.
Desolation spreads, a barren, empty plain,
Where solitude and quietness remain.
Footprints mark a path of souls now gone,
Whispers of their stories linger on.
The sun, a golden orb in azure skies,
Its cheerful rays attempt to mesmerize.
Yet dark clouds gather, weaving tales untold,
A juxtaposition, nature's fold.
The tower's red, a poppy midst the sand,
A beacon in this arid, lifeless land.
Though clouds may mask the sun in somber shroud,
The tower's presence stands tall and proud.
In unity, the sun and darkness play,
A dance of contrasts in the sky's array.
The tower, steadfast, gazes far and wide,
Its strength against the odds, undenied.
So in this scene, where opposites unite,
The tower stands, a symbol shining bright.
Dark clouds and sun converge, then drift away,
A masterpiece of nature's night and day.
Passing clouds stir the muse
As flowers bloom in spring
Lilacs sway in the breeze,
A haiku stirs within
With such enchanting ease
Passing clouds stir the muse
In blue skies of summer
Sonnets in the sunshine,
With scenes painted in rhymes,
Each stanza so divine
Passing clouds stir the muse
As autumn leaves fly by
With trees adorned in gold,
A lyric starts to flow
With splendor to unfold
Passing clouds stir the muse
In winter's somber mood
Each season to admire,
Then snowflakes start to fall,
The poet to inspire
4-4-2022
Form M - Monchielle - New Poetry Contest
Theme: Poetry
Sponsor: Constance La France
In earth's mournful sigh, the day does fade,
A quietus bow, as light to dark is made.
The sun descends; its fervor now grown still,
As night's embrace, a somber, haunting thrill.
Death's whisper cold, a solitary call,
To dance alone, 'neath the starless pall.
A journey's end, where memories decay,
In silent halls, where echoes die away.
The mortal coil, a brittle, fleeting thread,
Unravels fast, from life's loom it's fled.
Yet in this end, a somber peace we find,
As death's cold arms the weary soul do bind.
For in the gloom, where final breaths are lost,
The fear of end, by dawn's light is not tossed.
Death's icy hand, a guide through shadowed door,
To realms unseen, where spirits weep and soar.
So mourn it now, the quietus of night,
For in its grasp, there lies no promised light.
A cycle's turn, from ash to dust resumes,
In death, we lie, and in its silence, doom.
Most days I'm a crumbling mess
like an avalanche out of the blue
I can't help but fall apart
when I remember you
It only takes a second-
then my heart hardens
like asphalt on a cold day
I've endured enough heartache for the rest of my life
and that is the somber truth
There are times when words aren't enough
my mind races with a million thoughts at once
you used to hear my thoughts and guide me
prepare me for real life
and now I'm nearing 30,
life is creeping up,
and I've no guidance or that shoulder to lean on
This hollow feeling, will it ever subside?
I feel like I'm losing myself -
nowhere to confide
I'm swallowed up from life,
falling in a black hole