We stand on sacred land,
We falsely call it ours.
We’ve ripped the soul from Mother Earth,
We’ve weakened all her powers.
We grind her bones for steel and flame
We have stripped her skin away
We make it feel like a game
The waste is left to decay
We build more houses and roads
We swallow the land without a care
This land corrodes
Is anyone even aware?
Let’s hold the land above
Our greed, our haste, our fears?
The land really needs our love
We should listen for her tears
Why does it feel like no one hears?
Why not hold the land above ourselves?
A forlorn figure pines while traipsing down the meadow,
dawn dewdrop wet sprinkles mock her sylvan shadow,
red sky ablaze mere ornate first light wrinkled lull,
hazy whisper from mint gust for maiden that blind pull,
or bright hue’d usher to green moss-strewn meander,
where rainbow trout a wily catch might quell one edgy bystander
mournful train whistle
it must be moving caskets
will it ever stop
the wailing continues
it sounds like a distraught mother
burying a child
My song was played on the white notes,
When you were there beside me.
Then, everything seemed natural.
But, since you’ve gone, the song has changed.
I only use the black notes now,
For my life’s completely flat
Connect The Dots contest
Sponsor - Nette Onclaud
1st February 2026
How steady the merciless raindrop falls,
Could they be the fragments of my soul?
Wept from the mournful clouds, my mind.
Watering the diseased flowers, my body.
Yet my heart lingers, in the void of life,
No passenger walking by the sidewalk,
Can ease the fractured throne of love,
No love for life, no life for hope, no beats,
Why should a man overdo his stay?
In twilight's hollow, where shadows play,
I find myself lost, in a heart's gray day.
A soul once afire, with love's pure flame,
Now flickers faintly, in loneliness's cold frame.
In secret gardens, where memories reside,
Our laughter echoes, a haunting, mournful tide.
The ghosts of our whispers, the shadows of our past,
Torment my waking, and forever will last.
Like autumn's leaves, our love withered away,
Leaving me to wander, in a desolate gray.
No warmth of your touch, no gentle summer breeze,
Only the echoes of what we used to be.
In this limbo, I search for a way to escape,
From the prison of longing, the weight of heartache.
But like a migratory bird, lost in endless skies,
I'm left to navigate, the dark and lonely sighs.
So here I'll remain, suspended in time,
A heart forever trapped, between love and loneliness's chime.
Hey- what'll you do if you're left alone,
and it's not all, on a hot and dry land
Where nobody is nix known?
Listen to a camel's heart-
Camel, storing all its strength in its hump,
and looking very-very smart.
Camel resists in desert's dirt,
Can you think how much he envied?
He's often called the 'ship of desert':
This is because of their
Ability to navigate the harsh desert
which sounds awful and mournful
But never mind, it's all desert's scramble,
So hats off to camel uncle!
My mournful violin, a wooden soul,
Beneath my fingers, tales unfold.
Each string a tear, a silent plea,
For joys departed, lost to me.
The bow, a phantom hand that sweeps,
Across the wood, where sorrow sleeps.
A haunting melody, a whispered sigh,
Echoes of love, now past and gone, they fly.
The music weeps, a mournful strain,
Reflected grief, an endless pain.
Each note a chord, a broken heart,
A bittersweet ache, tearing me apart.
My violin, a solace and a curse,
Woven with memories, I hold them close, rehearse.
The echoes linger, in the fading light,
Of love's departing, in the starless night.
Everything that time or tide may tell
a silver birch rise in an azure sky
Moonbeam with its wrinkles and dry mouth
captivated by the mournful music
The perception of something eternal
is in itself a utopia -
but an encouragement on a cloudy day
Don't tear up the roots or retouch the story
An eternal escape as the waves
Morals and principles despite the prize
The traces of a heart that sought balm
will be buried in the underworld forever
17.03.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- 'M' Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1st place in the contest
Caught up in a mournful and jumbled montage
It's an exhausting malicious barrage
Just shards of a sordid side show collage
Our sweet smiles are transparent camouflage
For your aching ego there's no massage
So now park it in a soundproof garage
And join your noble leader's entourage
Chant blue, red or purple, just pay homage
We will be great again in this mirage
11/6/22
Monomixrhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
64 words
Syllable counter.com
Queen Elizabeth the Second passed
leaving the World in a mournful state.
How can this be--one who's so steadfast.
She tempered Britain's every fate.
Barely a bride on her honeymoon,
she learned her father, the King, had died.
Her life changed, becoming Queen so soon,
honeymoon left, that life set aside.
For seventy years, she was the Queen,
and a sister, daughter, mum, and wife.
Amazing what this lady would mean
to post-war Britain's foothold on life.
She guided with her feminine hands
never shirked her nation's duty call.
Tiny monarch ruling many lands.
She rose to be one-hundred feet tall!
September 8, 2022
Why am I sad
Saddy-sad-sad
Saddy-sad, saddy-sad
Saddy-sad-sad.
Why is life bad
Maddy-sad-bad
Maddy-sad, maddy-sad
Maddy-sad-bad.
As I lie amongst wildflowers
beneath the butterfly weeds,
you pondered, through my mind
as you often do,
delicately fragile
essence bursting free
eccentric, dazzling colours
deteriorating, slight physique ~
weakening petals withered
mournful harps serenade,
sensing your soul has departed
in sorrow, I feel your peace
as I lie amongst wildflowers,
beneath the butterfly weeds
you pondered through my heart
as you often do
A tribute to Emmalene Benson, forever beautiful. RIP
Blast, the Word will never last
A moment all before the General passed
But one command remains, down a path
Without a hope of resolution
On the ground, they know the truth
Sleight of hand, a wicked fragment
Flies around his mournful cries
All dismayed no Mother will arrive
Stiff and still, you call it progress
Unlearned repeats this tragedy
Truly, nothing left to gain
Dark clouds that threaten yet more rain-
will we ever see the sun again?
distant sounds- a crack of thunder
my day's plans are now asunder.
At last a clear sky to end this day-
mournful grey skies sent away
gusty winds so strong and forceful
pushed away a day so awful.
Birds now sing their evening song-
night time stars and a moon that's strong
sit by a fire and toast my feet
whatever the weather life still feels sweet.
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