Mists Poems - Poems about Mists

Murky Mists of Narcissists Trysts

Varnished Tech Titans
Tattered totems tarnished
Viral tribal bible spiral
Tainted talismans taunted
Cash cows flaunted
Gerontocracy trumps democracy
Theocracy stumps hypocrisy
Autocracy dumps diplomacy
Haunted schism prism
Vaunted Fat Cats
Enigma?…just
Dogma & Stigma
Tit for Tats
Martian Martial law
Doff your hats
To techno-*wats
And petro-*rats
Deplore or Encore?
Poor Planet in flux
All about the bucks
Ersatz Fat Cats
Well More is More!

Shadows and Smoke

Either the sun is broken,
or someone has stolen it.
The feeling of comfort,
of warmth,
is rare these days.

I find myself longing
for the shades of summer,
where shadows of people
and things
made the world more real.
Now, mists have taken over—
the views from my windows,
a magical backdrop
for dreamy photos.

I took a walk
in the misty rain,
its tender touch
washing away the paths,
erasing old

Pearly Mists

The sun rays hit
The pearly mists
Paste in apple.

mists kiss

gem in paradise 
from behind falling water 
mist kisses my skin

In the mystical mists of twilight, leaning on an ancient railing

In the mystical mists of twilight, leaning on an ancient railing,
I gaze deeply into the water to see my reflection gently rippling,
And the little fish weaving their paths
Through the blurred contours of my shadowed essence.
I wonder if these ethereal beings feed
On my floating thoughts, lightly nibbling
At the strands loosely interwoven
Into the very fabric of my

In the dead of night, when mists blind the gaze and shadows play their secret role

In the dead of night, when mists blind the gaze and shadows play their secret role,
Don't give up, think of the stars drowned in tears of forgotten amber,
Enveloping all the lost nights, when love itself has written its farewell,
Whispering to you that every tear is a hidden diamond of happiness.
Don't give up when you slide

Through The Mists Of Time

 Through the Mists Of Time shines The Everlasting Light
 Illumined by the Ethereal Torch of the Most High,
 Forever, The Emerald Chalice Burns
 Through the Ashes of Fetters, Ever-Upwards
 Beyond Perils of The Lower Domain
 A Golden Ballad, Such is "ONE" where Heaven Reigns
 Upright, Up High, Past the Seven Gates
 Beyond Seven Scintillating

In the land of silvery mists, where dreams touch the ground

In the land of silvery mists, where dreams touch the ground,
A being-abyss struggles, wishing to rise in docile flight and facing a deep fear,
Striving to be a fruitful field, the most fertile version of its essence,
While the shadows of insecurity cast it into the amphitheater of blooming thoughts, to crush it.
As the depths of the

Misplaced In Maroon Mists

I’m feral like a fox
misplaced in the
maroon mists 
of wilderness,
only found in 
woeful woodland. 
My skin is blanketed
in crimson balmy
hyacinth feathers
from a 
forsaken rainforest. 

Misguided on 
delusional paths, 
where spring-tides 
mirror liquified colors
of warm diamond tears 
I’ve suppressed
behind ice blue sighs.

And I’ve seen
splintered petals
beneath thick-leaved
jewel orchids, 
that surrendered 
to greying leaves
on tainted twigs
and broken branches.

In the Mists of Avalon

The Lady knew he lurked but felt no harm or fear
from the knight who watched her from the wood.
His only thought was of the lovely Lady Guinevere,
bethrothed to Arthur, so he knew where he stood.

Young Lancelot, feigning interest, ignored her glance.
Insolent, she though him to be, as arrogant as an ass!
Til the day she caught

Misty-Eyed

Sweet mists of morning, and rose red mystery,
So much color all around, nothing is left to see,
Orangey mists of twilight, a tangerine surprise,
I can't see pearl stars, for beauty's in my eyes.

Golden mists of afternoon, hazy clouds in grass,
Pretty as a silken flower, though it will not last!
Deep purple midnight mists, so airy and dreamy,

Where I Am Free

WHERE I AM FREE


My freedom lies beyond 
the cloud of unknowingness
beyond mists of time where
I disappear into olive groves
which furl and unfurl in slow dawns

Here there are no gates
latches or rusty keys
nobody entices with tickets
to a show and gala gifts
dark chocolate or apple orchards

Where I am free translucent dragonflies  
and red quilts are escaping

In the Mists

Fog, like a shroud, hangs over the valley,
muting the morning's voice, soaking the ground.
Droplets cannonball, trying to rally,
base jump the downspouts, raise echoing sounds.

Scarce is heard but a chorus of crickets.
Runoffs form rivulets, quiet joined mirth.
Does skip breakfast, stay tucked in the thickets,
waiting for sunshine, enjoying warm earth.

Silent, it slips like ghosts through the forest,
leaving

Tangerine Mist

an enshrouded dawn
all lost in thick orange mist
in a one hued world

redbirds are waiting
with their celebration song
a tune that's agelong

tangy dewy blooms
of a vivid magic morn
wait for butterflies

Morphed Mists

Mundane matters motley
Muddy minds mostly
Melding, moulding, miring
Mindlessly meandering

Meek moribund musing
Mindfulness missing
Mystics mentalism mimic
Marring meditation’s magic

30-June-2022

Begin with a letter Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Angela Tune

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