Outworn Poems | Examples

Ya'll Need to See it

The core explosion is due September in the sky!
A supernova T Coronea Boralis to lite the
skies of earth. The remeant of a once larger star.
Once in a lifetime event. A red Giant anda white dwarf.
reaccurring once every eieghty years: the show
will be featured seen from earth.................
Will a blackhole occur during the supernova?
Collapsing onto it self as the two intermingle.
To cause a spectical in the sky?
Doubtful but what an oppurtunity to
be super romantic.
What a specail time to
be with someone you love!
Boredum has Outworn it's welcome!

Never Born, Never Died

She can touch me,
reach in
with an inward and knowing finger,
stir my senses,
entice,
until I know for sure
that the dead and the living,
are timeless.

When her love steals my mind away
'2gether', becomes a special word,
a spellbinding word - magical -creative.

I have faith in illusion,
what is unreal for many,
remains ever a fantasy for them,
no wonder their idea of being alive
is a lie told to a liar.

What is real for we who are free,
cannot be explained by old ideas,
or any outworn, buckram logic.

We who know
how to make love to the unseen,
continue to dance -
with the only one.

Meeting John and Speaking With Him

I had just spoken with John!
To meet the bastard I’d sworn,
My planned time 5:00am dawn,
Over his fertile grass lawn 
He had had to treat with scorn,
Contented with being a con…

“You listen to me, Hot John!
Yesterday, you know, is gone,
A new day baby now born
And with it the Newest Morn!
In a morn one does not mourn;
Announcer of this: God’s Horn!
Good proof: True Life is not torn
Nor True Life true face outworn…

You’re , then, to face farm’s corn:
The white, The yellow and the fawn,
All its thought pains to be borne…

But then, to ask, are their pains?
Aren’t the growth of corns from rains?

Good luck wishes times ten, John
As you avoid your clique’s Don,”

Life Is a Term Lease

This wreath is in your eidetic memory, yet you should live.
            Can you receive my lament, which is almost to happen?
There is no garland as I plummet, rattled by the sieve.
Died with you, can't revive, as you lie on plush and satin.
                        Earth collapses beneath its weight—why was it to be that way?
The words reflect that living beings are welcome today.
To read the stones, the lost will return home shortly to stay.
      The shade of gloom fosters a dark and virtuous decease. 
            Stashed spaceship shrines to scold scintillating stars in peace.
                        Among the outworn headstones, the moss knows the lease. 
There's a hushed quiescence here; no birds to chirp up or hive.
            The wind moans, the agony is veiled, and the heart blackens.
      Trusting that I would rest here, bereft of any rich ray.
            Leaving behind all my acrid-gained assets through a name cease.

Written: February 25, 2023

This poem form is the Fragmented Rhyme invented and Conceived by Constance La France. It has 14 lines with indentation, and a rhyme scheme, as follows: ABABCCCDDDABCD

Frightened To Take Two

Frightened to take two 

Her soul was clenched in the hand's of evil, A strident deafening scream reverberating in her mind, 

Searching for where she's broken the most, Trying to collect shattered pieces that are hard to find, 

Even the faintest of lives light disappeared, Leaving her to confront dark thought's for a while, 

Blindly stumbling through  saddened day after day, Constant loneliness hovering making her fragile, 

Others oblivious to her heartache retaining her struggle, A chaotic mind confused and lost in every form, 

Ardently staying as strong as can be,
Undoubtedly the personification of frail is outworn.

Lady By the Corner

So at the nook of the broadway alley
Stood there was an old defaced stall
With an outdated dark outworn wall
Coverd with the fetching portrayals of Scotland valley

At the upfront shelf was a young lady 
Bearing a sweet grin on her baby face
Having the semblance full of grace
Working at that space that seems to be shady

Conferring her was not that hard
As she had a heart open for all
Engaging in talks that were small
Was the best segmet in her regard

Rushing every now and then to her
And savouring the sun down nattering 
But all those moments paused in a fling
As those vivid dreams happened  to blur

Our hours of gossip ceased to occur
As she moved to a place beyond our grasp 
Unhanding herself from the mankind's clasp
On a divine evening as she would prefer

As another year close in on me
Once again I was at the nook of the alley
Gazing at the shop and those depicts of valley
Reminding of the person who was now free

O Muses, What Is Genius

O Muses! What is genius? Is it born?
     Or is it taught? Why do some possess it,
and some do not? These questions are outworn!
     As riddle over which to obsess, it

matters only that genius brings forth art,
     music, poetry, mathematics, dance,
religion, and science to endow heart
     and reason to mindless souls which, by chance,

we know as “Fools.” Genius is not for wasting,
     or for consuming it upon one's lust:
rather, it is meant for God Everlasting;
     to bring Him praise before one turns to dust.

Whatever genius's mystery is, it's His
to give as He pleases—of that there's no quiz!

Demount

Nail on the wall

	Picture to fall

		Spider in crawl

			Omen to stall

Side along side

	Image in stride

		Time not defied

			Somebody lied

Web on the spin

	Calling the sin

		Sepia got thin

			Unfolding din

Intricate weave

	Dust balls to grieve

		Do not deceive

			Imminent leave

Photograph torn

	Image forlorn

		Passion outworn

			Innocence shorn

Framed by betrayal

	Lost in the grail

		He cuts the brail

			The tale of a nail

12th April 2020

Too Late To Mend

If the sun sets on me now, let it!
I have no more use
for the light of day,
Just hold back the dawn awhile,
I have to shed some light
upon the night’s shady ways.

Tell it to the vagrant wind
To hold its breath
and pass not this way again
lest it bestirs 
the dying embers of my aspiration.

Let the spring know
to hold back its reins,
There are no more
flowers to bloom here now.

Tell the wayward road
to follow me no more,
I have to hang up
my outworn footwear now;

And let my dreams know
I have no more
wistful nights to spare.


~12/05/19
~Contest: Your Best New Poem
~Sponsor: Emile Pinet.

Dheedhi's Daughter's House-Warming

Dheedhi counts days with a sparkle in her heart. 
She hopes to melt her ice-cold loneliness in the warmth of a party.
She buys a washing machine. 
Pickle of mango peel, piquant beef, banana chips…
She packs all with pizzazz. 

But her daughter foresees shards of shame protruding from ma’s 
mannerisms. 
Outworn ways, the ill-mannered slurps, unrefined words…
 
“Tomorrow’s function’s limited, ma. 
I’ll come to pick you another day.” 
Deedhi’s lips tremble and eyes become moist. 
Several desires disappear silently in the Bermuda triangle of generation gap.  

First printed in The Literary Hatchet (Pear Tree Press)

A Walk In Solitude

A walk in solitude is sometimes best
     to weigh my thoughts in nature's open-air
          and put my heart and soul to needed rest
where only I, with quiet beauty, share.

For then, when inner troubles wake and stir,
     the beauty of the sky can wrap around
          with softness, like a blanket- swaddle, blur
my problems until good resolves are found.

The singing of the birds lifts up my heart;
     their melodies soothe well my anxious mind,
          as if they speak to me alone, impart
a peacefulness where tensions soon unwind.

The swaying, tall tree branches wave to me
     with graceful arms that gently pull me in,
          Their motion holds my mind in fantasy, 
and like a child, I feel caressed within.

A walk in solitude is my sweet gift,
     for side by side with nature, I'm reborn
          with its fresh air and beauty- such a lift
to leave behind my cares, soon gone, outworn.

When Janu Saw An Apparition

Sometimes superstition mates with
scare in the wilderness of the
subconscious mind – some
apparition will be 
the offspring.

Janu made just a shriek in the darkness.
Like a fried sardine, her body 
lies on a mat within 
a human hedge –her 
soul has fled 
somewhere.

Women stand with arms akimbo; men 
whisper words in diverse shades of
superstition. Holy chants and
devilish mantras unite in 
the horrible air.

An iron key – a black cord wet with spit –
a rural enchanter applies outworn 
weapons in vain. Finally, a 
sensible man sprinkles 
water on her visage –
soul returns to her
body after a
blackout.



[First published in Nous Magazine, UK ]

Midnight War With Mosquitoes

The cry of my baby tears through the night, again
Waking everyone, including the birds whom use
our tattered raffia hut as nest
I know why she cries though
The small giant has used her long thin deadly
needle to bite her
Even though our outworn mosquito net is tattered
and now has holes as
big as a ditch
That gives you no permission to feast on us, for
we are still under its covering
I dragged my sleepy self up
Tied the points where old age and years of use has
caused our shield to tear
I carried my baby; put her mouth near my
sagging bosom
But with another thunderous wail, she declined
Now, I know my eyes will know no sleep
I reached for my raffia made broom under my
bamboo bed
And waited like a soldier with a gun
Broom in hand, I stood up and sang
A lullaby for her with my drowsy voice
She obliged and slept
And now the war has begun
Broom in hand, I sat on the piles of old and worn
out clothes
My baby and I use as mattress
Waiting like a soldier defending her territory
If our mosquito net is old and lacks strength
THIS BROOM WILL DO YOU JUSTICE!

Melt This Ice

It has surely outworn its welcome
But it sticks around like gum
I tried once, twice, even thrice
But I alone can't melt this ice.

I would like to see it gone forever
And see love flow just like a river
But this ice still clings tight
Who gave it the right?

Please, won't you set me in the sun?
If it works, lets have some fun
Yes, you'll have your fun
But first this blasted ice must run.

Frightened To Take Two

Her soul was clenched in the hand's of evil 
A strident deafening scream reverberating in her mind,
Searching for where she's broken the most 
Trying to collect shattered pieces that are hard to find,
Even the faintest of lives light disappeared
Leaving her to confront dark thought's for a while,
Blindly stumbling through saddened day after day 
Constant loneliness hovering making her fragile,
Others oblivious to her heartache retaining her struggle 
A chaotic mind confused and lost in every form,
Ardently staying as strong as can be 
Undoubtedly the personification of frail is outworn.

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