Lowers Poems | Examples

Half Past Summer, Two Months Till Fall

the peak passes by,
warm sun lowers its angle,
long shadows appear,
coolness creeps into the night,
as strong sense of change begins.

7 B's Of Summer

Spring is sprawling
out there somewhere
in a Bikini on a Beach
drinking Beer
toes in the sand
glass in hand
while snowflakes are falling
and winter's still here
then when good old
sunny summer comes
(and swallows do too)
oh to go Barefoot
in a Boat on the sea
Barbecue in the garden
play Ball in the park
fun in the sun 'til evening twilight
lowers the night a curtain of dark

Blue Dogs and Parchment Shields

sniff out the garish lights
loud music and drunken discussions
enter the party uninvited 
conceive uneasiness and instant disdain
you try to dance with strangers
who quickly slide away.
somewhere in the intercourse of a reddish night
they feed you to a pack of blue dogs
willing to drag you down into their fetid fires.

Loneliness warps all reason
lowers the standard
opens the vein to jagged strangers
liaisons come and go 
like a roman legion
they begin the journey devil bold
ranks thinning by the minute by the hour
till only one soul remains
beneath a parchment shield 
his destiny to forever cower

Israel Lowers the Boom on Iran

  
     No one crows, no one gloats
        no spin, no contrived quotes

     Just a sober nation taking stock
        of the world it just shocked

The First One That Comes Along

Why is that we rely on some illogical dream,
rather than being realistic people?
I can change all that with a notion
however silly and foolish it may seem
to some leaving equation undone
the first one that comes along can be mine!

Sitting alone in a meadow of purple and blue iris,
non sure which color to paint passing faces;
I look far unable to tell what comes next,
all appears calmer than sunrise, but it's complex! 

I'll make another promise to myself, not feeling half
bit whole trashing what's bad, stop being so rough; 
should the first one who comes along, making me laugh,
spoil me with kisses: I won't ask anything more for myself!

No smile matches yours, nobody's  eyes are sweeter than yours;
I'm not looking for beauty or someone to use and ditch
when passion dies out and I'm caught and called a smitch:
unless the first one that comes along shows faithfulness always!

Waiting for the evening's  shadows to fall, I'm flooded 
by a light of consciousness that explains why any darkness
we allow to sip it, lowers our only chance for happiness
that is the first one that comes along and wants to be loved!

Banned Book Club VIII -Psychedelia studies

To be truly, fully present
Of consciousness and
answering why we are here,
These studies are a promising field of research
Yet by powerful backlash
research has halted
For severe depression and PTSD
Universities use micro-doses of psylocibin
Derived from mushrooms
It lowers stress and doesn’t
cause hallucinations
Follow up studies show dramatic improvement
of conditions not previously responsive
to conventional medications and therapies
This chemical is still widely banned
Except for a few controlled studies
Underway at accredited, renowned medical
and psychiatric departments
at major universities
When popular conventional 
therapies prove ineffective
the 60’s and 70’s proved a fertile ground
for those seeking help
New age treatment called Primal Therapy,
When religious cults such as love Guru’s
Hare`Krishna mantras, Buddhist chants 
of Nam-Myoho-renge-kio or being shakabukued
or Hollywood fix its— for anxiety’s
mental illness failed, 
Came the psychotherapists
and the latest Primal Scream Therapy
new and experimental, so-called Hollywood therapists 
took it to levels unimaginable and a bit too far
and should have never been licensed!

At The Graveyard

Tears of fears drip from all that gather 
A mystery lyes ahead as the coffin lowers 
Sleep smiles on show to see 
Some can’t hind the pain though so it breaks through their smiley faces 

After suffering & crying 
Comes some sort of relief that hopefully their soul has reached heaven in gods presence. Silence 
Not a shiver of a word heard here after as the night capitulates. 

Have they escape the world? But you still hold the memories, however you are truly left with wonder. Does it make life even more worth living?

Heaven and Earth Will Pass

Scattered without wind
as though on wings
gmo seeds
land on lava rocks
and icy hills
will there be spring?
Aged old wheel
shooting double
beams
lowers lid on eye
turning noon 
to night
will dawn glow pink?
Battered old earth
shaking parched lap
vomits lava out
of its dragons' 
mouths
birds stop singing
trees in ashes weeping
Midas ego king
deprived of 
basic needs
turns fragile wits
to instincts of beasts
darkness without
darkness within
how dark will be night
without Jesus' light
at the flash of His beam 
darkness will flee
uncreated Sun
a new day will begin
for those who have kept
lamp of love lit.

Honorable Mention: Brian Strand: A Feb 2025 Posted Poem-2/23/25

Under the ashen sky of a forgotten era

Under the ashen sky of a forgotten era,
Where the pseudo-man hides his dreams beneath the cloak of silence,
We wear paper masks in our puppet dance,
Each movement traced by invisible strings,
Public opinion, a cold wind that lifts and lowers us,
An unseen hand whispering the illusion of choice,
In a theater of shadows where truth loses its light,
And the generations to come, with their glassy eyes,
Will look at our relics with an absent curiosity,
Wondering if we were ever anything more than echoes,
In a world of noise and uncertain steps on the floor of oblivion.
Under stars extinguished by indifference, we built temples,
Made of words that scatter like sand in the wind,
We spoke in whispers that never touched hearts,
And we allowed ourselves to be led by formless shadows,
Searching in the void between us for something we could not name,
Only silence where we had hoped to find the song,
And perhaps, in times not yet born,
A world will emerge where truth is a living flame,
Where words will be embraces and not swords,
But for us, there remains only the melancholy of a lost dream,
An echo of unfulfilled desires, still haunting eternity.

Sunset Dreams

Stripes of yellow, gray and blue,
mixed with lavender too...
Spread across the distant sky
The strong wind goes howling by
Windchimes conduct music to hear,
amplifying a beautiful sunset
The sun lowers and removes regret,
Beginnings are born at  the end of the day,
as dreams are created in tunes that play

Heidi Sands

1/5/25

(C)opyright

I Am Thankful For

The world and all its splendor where life begins
Human Beings of all and those who I call friends
America our diverse country and all that she defends
Nights and days of the week especially the weekend
Knowing those who I can count on until the bitter end
Family first is a favorite motto that I often recommend
Underneath the covers and snuggled up to her rear end
Love above all to say the least not fake or pretend

Flowers and trees mixed with the sky and how they blend
Old muscle cars with big motors and a shiny chrome front end
Reading poetry from The Soup often over, and over again




Written for poetry contest "I Am Thankful For.." 11/24/2024
Hosted by: Tania Kichen                   Form: Rhyme Acrostic

Lost Amongst The Night

"Do not go gentle into that good night."
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Quote By Dylan Thomas

Smoky clouds float above slate skies.  
Powdery alabaster flakes of snow glide to the earth.  
A frozen taste of grief hovers in the breeze,  
while maniacal machinery grinds close by.  
The scent of industrial oil stings my nose,  
as your chestnut coffin lowers into the misty petrichor below.  
The pattering of moist dirt dings against the hardened box.  
Crystal-clear tears wash over my face,  
your warmth now replaced by a marble headstone.  
Hours pass under opaque moonlight;  
I sit with midnight winds  
and buttery daisies,  
clinging to the glistening stone,  
trying to find a way back to you.

The Person I want to be

Swirling my eyes around and ‘round 
Into a pile of leaves, 
I see my assemblage point swirl, too.
I'm looking back at me in a tornado of thoughts
Assembling the ground around below me, 
My support system slips 
And my conscience falters. 
It looks as if the worlds on fire 
In this pile of autism Nal autumnal artistry. 
The mystical mandala of my mind, 
Snatches up my spirit then takes me for a ride 
Into the higher levels of consciousness 
And some lowers too. I’m dizzy from the delusion. 
Illusions on the exclusion of always being present. 
And wander aimlessly into some dreamy delirium of nothingness. 
I slip into something more comfortable. 
Something more manageable. 
Something, more me.

the void

what should i do without you
the sound of silence kills me
those precious moments gather dust
life stands still in darkness
apple pie comes unmade, roses wilt, bourbon becomes water

i am waiting for you
leaves fall, my door locks
It draws near
as i drown in memory, my pen fades and the ceiling lowers
i rot, i sink

Artic Hunter

Slow sleek steps,

Pounces on its paws,

Snow-clad fur,

Brushes off impatiently,

 
Ears perk up,

When squeals and squeaks are heard,

Steady and slowly,

Merges with the blanket beneath,

 
Almost at ease,

Confidently it please,

Lowers into its position,

Ready to strike,

 
Pounces on its paws,

Announces in its jaws,

Mouse struck beneath its claws,

Ounces in vigilant strides as it withdraws.


By Sarah Shahzad, July 2024

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