Long Sorrowfully Poems
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Constance's Epiphany Contest ~ Written August 16, 2026
An epiphany appears as a moment of arrival at a destination
that you didn't realize you were going to disembark.
~ by poet
In this last month of summer's sultry heat
I find myself longing for the season of cool respite.
The chill of autumn's spicy entrance will cool the days.
A gentle breeze ruffling leaves on weeping willows
that have already begun fading to a hue of gold.
I'd always found myself near to shedding tears,
a notion to which I've sorrowfully clung
until suddenly, the veil of ignorance was lifted.
I dare not question nature's timing of seasons
for she has gifted us with many wondrous things.
It was an epiphany to see Autumn's whisper of change
as a pruning needed while trees are dormant.
Bare limbs deserving of a time of rest,
their leaves, twirling ballerinas dancing a swan song
and at the end, bowing upon the ground.
But how life will flow in those wizened trunks
when once more sap thaws after winter snow.
Newly budded greenery will adorn the trees
in fine frocks in many shades of green.
Fall, in crimson and amber ~ bold colors to remember.
Now, I accept her nurturing, motherly ways
for I've learned to wrap myself in Autumn's embrace
as branches are stripped of tattered dresses
for I know once again life will be renewed
when the gilded season gives way to Spring.
Please tell me there's a healing anodyne,
some kind of mythical enlightenment,
a cure capable of extinguishing the flames
of grief burning deep within my heart.
It's a fire I cannot douse or smother.
If there is a balm, something known to man,
I beseech you, bathe me in its pacifying waters
before my heartache drives me insane.
Cleanse the malignancy lost love has wrought.
In the song of a lark I found a brief respite.
His voice soothed the beast blazing in my breast
but then off he flew before I slept.
My ache found but a moment's relief
then returned to plague me, smoldering again.
I linger in sorrow, without means of escape
from a life of recurring fear and doubt.
Is there no utopian Shangri La or illusive Camelot
where memories of us will not haunt me?
If not, I must endure this anguish to my grave.
In desperation, I planted a garden of herbs
and nibbled leaves of chamomile and yarrow,
but no analgesic did they prove to be.
I should've sown hemlock to end my misery.
What anodyne will succor the look of disdain
I see, when in a mirror I sorrowfully visualize
the love his eyes once held for me?
If the antidote blinds me, I beg to be dosed.
I would sacrifice sight to set my heart free.
June 18, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 3
Sponsored by Mark Toney
I Wait With Bated Breath...
(yes...yes...yes, this rhyme
resembles a recent one of mine
from a previous time,
yet appropriating wands zone writing
haint no crime -
at least not yet!)
Okay bull heave me you,
at this moment
alm completely unaware
what the a muse zing
genie of poetic
inspiration will bring
possibly shelving what Calliope
holds in store for me,
meanwhile now
with impatience it ching
visa vis to discover
what this Earthling,
(albeit modest) will be amazingly
graced with, meanwhile aye fling
haphazardly, indiscriminately,
and jocosely blitz
krieg feebly attempting
to contrive ingenious emits
poetic prestidigitation in fits
and starts, sans "FAKE" wits
as this humble
human imperceptibly orbitz
around mister Sun,
(which about bajillion years
from now suddenly quits)
shining foisting misery,
where Nyx knocks
(paddy whack give
my dog a bone...) divinely,
knowingly and spiritedly visits
(believe me you) this trumpeting
stupid moron loser
forever doth taint
after this moment
(no need tubby saint
lee and suppress any quaint
gut wrenching chortle)
at what aint
no farce), nor literary feint
yours truly painfully,
sorrowfully, and verily avers,
he now lacks fire and fury
(as if nettled by burrs)
nonetheless, which ambition
dust hanker mink thinks furs,
and foremost (Tom
morrow i.e. purrs
sues tha owl mighty,
where fame posthumously spurs
me amidst pantheon
of great writers
which dream dashed
into a million,
(no...no...no...not
bajillion this instance,
though good guess) pieces
abysmal silence replacing
(palimpsest like),
mine over imagination whirs.
We are but dreams in the night. Shadows on the land, whose time on earth is only truly measured by God and loved ones alone. we flit through life in an instant, wanting, yearning to make a difference, in a rapidly declining world, with a profound thought, a good intention, a remarkable deedor some worldly wise insight understood by a worldly kinship...those that think as you do. All the time wondering if you are in the minority or the majority. Your only weapon to change that which so desperately requires change, is the impotency of words in a world where the wonder of education has been sorrowfully tainted by the 'educated', through elitism. We must let the children ask the questions, don't stifle the cries of babes. Time has come for a worldwide education, not pockets of religious bigotry. God is not on all our sides..we should therefore be on Gods side. We should all strive to be Godlike inside, for a religion which insists that a war is fought in its name...is not religious nor righteous at all. Ain't this the time for change.....we've been getting it wrong for thousands of years...
She fell from the light, into a world shadowed in gray.
~ by poet
An angel pouted to protest her punitive plight
No repentant redemption for her serious sins
Wings waylaid, the fatuous one was felled in flight
And from Heaven hurled; now banishment begins
Resentfully she roams in shadows of somber skies
An enraged expression marring her fractious face
A ranting rebel like the dastardly devil, father of lies
Dwelling in darkness due to her decadent disgrace
No earthly escape will she discover through death
Crows circle and caw, crying out in a clamoring voice
With crass words she crudely curses in banal breath
Wicked wrongdoer, condemned for her corrupt choice
With foolish folly she sorrowfully surrendered her soul
and delves within deep darkened depths for eternity
All alone, there will be no one to comfort and console
From shadows and suffering, she will never break free
She sulks upon sullen stygian shores of the river Styx
without a reprieve or relief from tormenting terror
There's no exit from her eternal eviction as time ticks
for Satan's spawn, shrouded in shame for her error
August 30, 2022
Alliteration Old or New Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
FORGE AHEAD
Forge ahead, spines are steel
anger, tragedy, treachery heal
betrayal merely a step on ladders
Golden Age arises, Kali Age passes
fragrant oysters in Bloomsbury Blue
manifesting pearls for specific rings
bring garlands, soulfully sing
Dark was the night
facing polished daggers, fists tight
Herculean shoulders held mirrors
seeing shadows in hot quivers
they were mere simulation games
for false egoic fame
Enmeshed on a timeline where
we toiled taciturn to pay rent
glow and glee unnecessarily spent
numberless illusions, broken vows
struggling sorrowfully, success in the now
Love with faith lying in a mess
a necessary playing of
hide-seek schemes to loosen
toady tones, melt frozen marrow
in calcium-poor bones
Our curriculum included knowing
strategy and tactics
docile services so hectic
courage relentless coppered with marble
awaiting cosmic chisel to challenge
maidens through their drizzles
Slowly we learnt to sow
for an abundant harvest of
Ceres pipless sweet grapes
scrape skin alone, releasing gritty stones
journey solitary beaches
clearing human leeches
studying symbols from light
languages nimble
holy mantras our companion horns
realisation dawned a fresh spring morn
Life lesson upon lesson
ages come and go, as sessions
mates all part of an orchestra for
mind to microscopically mime
Soul to rise, summit a visceral
vista of primal presence wise
hopes equal whims on froth of light
seeds everywhere in skimming sight
gather them simply, plant anew
Focus fresh, a tiny platinum key cue
We are our own bromeliads
pyramids, dungeons or charnel ground
diamond within is Purity’s eternal mound
indestructibility not mortality is
Soul’s character sound
as Mantis magnifies new beginnings
know they were already sculpted to scoop
sapphires of own silvery choosing
Forge ahead, no noosing !
My ego-cracker, silent observer and prayer flag hoister …
she birthed bloodied an embodied freedom seeker, genes helixed with slavery, in early hours of a winter’s day, cold was dark room
petunia posy planter fed four mouths marjoram on Malay curry and rice, with scarcity being her best stage act when hunger a primary protagonist
she announced there was nothing when everything circled happily, then declared abundance when cupboards stared dust
Piscean, she presented toughest tests with hyacinth hands, only an embattled Heart would accede to, shook away delicious aloe dreams as tests rounded a corner with bed lamps flickering time out
my spinal cord nerves entwined with hers, she decorated with wondrous wild animal decoupage vases, dispatching me on shopping chores when I planned dancing ~
my leap into sublimated Sovereignty depended on unraveling bonds binding us through lifetimes, countless ages, sotto scenarios swirling sorrowfully in shore walk shells
I despairingly detached from her plundering pain, her principal pleasures, subtle oomph
a sophisticated Archetype hallowed that Jung would label Grecian Urn shallow
I offered awaiting Sky breasts, hips and sighs through strategies of temperance and slow witch manoeuvring
my divinity and verses would have black burnt in futuristic coliseums had she not been Mother of trailing pegs, variegated embroidery cotton and oatmeal scones
~~~~~~~~~~~
God sees the poor in spirit* groaning in pain
Languishing in fleshly miseries where they’re slain
Being ruled by discouragement that’s vain
While hoping for His miracle to gain.
God invites them to immerse himself in His loving domain!
God hears them crying for divine aid and support
Excruciating from downfall’s discomfort
Wailing due to deceit and false report
While begging for His help, their ultimate resort.
God leads them to kneel with faith humbly before His gracious fort!
God knows them needing for urgent care
Beseeching for His assured welfare
Ailing with discontentment’s scare
While longing for His promises they treat as rare.
God brings them to His throne where at His blessings they can stare!
God understands them sighing anxiously
Expressing their complaints sorrowfully
Murmuring about unfairness grudgingly
While questioning their state bitterly.
God counsels them to seek His will meaningfully!
God recognizes them in their struggles against frustration
Succumbing to sinfulness’ oppression
Leaning toward welcoming desperation
While craving for His pardon’s restoration.
God grants them forgiveness upon confessing their iniquities of destruction!
God remembers them cringing in difficulty
Mourning over their self-inflicted calamity
Grieving because of worldliness-caused infirmity
While yearning for His joy and tranquility.
God cares for them with His mercy, guiding them by His light’s authority!
God pities them in their woes as they feel worthless
Wallowing in the futility of slothfulness
Afflicted with the guilt of fruitlessness
Pleading for His compassion and faithfulness.
God instructs them to serve Him thru His power to enjoy His bountifulness!
*Matthew 5:3 Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
December 15, 2018
7th place, "Tinker, Taylor" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward; judged on 12/29/2018.
You are a thorn, borne deep in my heart
The prick that sticks me with each breath I take
A tether, whether I want to be bound to you or not
The flame I blame for burning holes in my soul
Droning chants are rants lingering in my mind
Rumblings and mumblings within my sad breast
The wrong kind of song written for those in love
My eyes sting when I try to sing the sweet lyrics
Broken vows spoken; words shattered like glass
The refrain of my pain keeps wounds from healing
Sorrowfully shaken and forsaken, I had to walk away
Your pretense was immense, the shame of your fall
Love was spoiled, foiled because of your weakness
Your reason for treason, based on a foundation of lies
The suppression of your confession has taken a toll
How cruel to fool the one who gave you her heart
The Dawn breaks as planned ,
Mrs and Mr god look down upon their creations and children.
Mrs God weeps because the children have forgotten their mother and send her no thanks or love ,
Mr God is enraged at this insult.
He and Mrs God continue to look sorrowfully upon their children and at their constant fighting and killing of each other to say nothing of the planet that was gifted too them .
Mrs God holds the hand of Mr God , and with a tear asks "where did we go wrong " .
Mr God answers by embracing his goddess ,as storms of rage swirl in his eyes .
"Not all of our children are wicked " ,softly speaks Mrs God ,
“No not all " he sighs .
"But enough is enough",he demanded
We shall conclude their ways of non understanding and wickedness
‘And bring them into the light of gratitude once more.
Mrs God smiled at this truth and with a merciful wave of her hand ,
the Age of Ragnarök then began .