Pitifully Poems | Examples

Get Off Your Knees, Marlon

Pitifully, he calls her again and again
Brando yelling, "STELLA" from his knees.
Like he ever meant something to her...
Stop groveling like a fool. She was a tease.

She doesn't come from Kansas or Oz
and Sunnybrook Farm is make believe.
Stop shouting her name. For crying out loud.
Shed your tears somewhere else if you grieve.

She left long ago on a streetcar to get away.
It's your fault she's gone. You and your drama.
You killed her desire.  That's what she said.
The conflicts you created left her in trauma.

You were the spider who sat down beside her,
the tiny creature that was much too hairy.
You brazenly acted as if you were a king,
but there's nothing about you that's scary.

After all this time, still blubbering for Stella?
You're a weeping wimp and it's pathetic
how you demean yourself time after time.
No one cares because you're not empathetic.

She waved farewell and made your life hell.
So, get off your knobby knees, Marlon.
Alice doesn't live here anymore. She left
and no longer wants to call you, 'Darlin.'

Have You Ever Seen a Rabbit Wearing Glasses?

A rabbit's life, tragically upended
because of the company he befriended - 
where, once, happiness had brimmed,
he grew old, and his eyesight dimmed. 
His brain slowed down like molasses. 
'Twas then I saw him wearing glasses.
So, pitifully, he did implore, 
but the carrot said, "don't darken my door".
In the end, he took the dead man's walk,
led by a vitamin A-poor celery stalk.

Roar of Reflection

It all started like a loose joke
As thoughtful emotions set in
Gradually spreading within him 
With the basements slowly wavering 
That the lion emerged roaring

Earned nothing when he fought hard
Impalas roused him up when he had rest 
Lost recognition as he intensely roared
Crowned a king if he couldn't run
Which sounded openly skeptical 

Should I relax? He pondered
Why not catch the prey?
Is battling wise? He questioned
Why not settle for less?
Pitifully, he'd to promptly decide

Is recognition or satisfaction?
To feel powerful and proud
For helping him survive in the wild
In achieving vitality and balance
Does honor outweigh fulfilment?

Irrespective of how beautiful was a song
With how boiled inside he was among
And against odds it all belong
All of it was then named wrong
Yet none of it was deemed strong

Today And Yesterday

Since that morning, and this morning, and every day and night that may have passed, I have tried but pitifully failed to keep myself from crying uncontrollably every day. I find myself having to adjust a little more to the fact that you are gone and you were gone before even being given the chance to make a mark on this world & show everyone what you would have grown to be capable of. I know this is a part of life but it is not supposed to be a part of life that so frequently people see, because it just overwhelms us with profound grief, destroying our lives,  but sometimes we just pretend that we are fine again today as much as the day before. 

Today I miss you 
I sit in the living room 
To see your photos

The Unknown World

As I walk through this unknown world
With a heavy heart and an anxious soul,
All I can think of is my family 
For they are the only ones true to me,
The lives of my brothers and sisters painfully unfold 
Oh, how their stories had gone untold,
Though their voices were blare 
They were still shackled down in despair

The soaring sparrows remind me of my wise old man
Who had once taught me to be brave
Now has warned me to stay out of storm's way.

And oh my dearest mother who has suffered the most 
She's lost a child but hasn't lost hope.
I hear her pleads every night
Her tears are of pain and her wishes ask for rights.
‘God has a plan for all’ she still believes in this philosophy
One day I will make them proud
Even if it means the end of me.

And when we come to talk about me
I'll use those same words on repeat
For I am the same as my family.
Family, you may consider the ties of blood
But for me, they are the ones who share the same stars,
Pitifully now the day has come to an end
I smile as I look upon the path I came
It's half to my goal, to make this world our home.

Sentry Is the Sunset

Sentry is the sunset, as I de and compress
Optimism is a way to scrub the hopelessness
Perhaps I'll escape perdition with a healthy dose of beauty paste
Will insecurities vanities blind me pitifully to the incoming waste
No, this corner would not be built into the path if it weren't meant to be walked down and turned
Growth is not just something plant-based it's a lesson in us all that need be walked and learned

Brave Surveyor

Cramped steps acquaint heavy hatch reluctant 
     Cushion hush cellar isolate, harsh sun migraines
     Catapulted myopic into apocalyptic destruction 
     Crumple of coastal community permits my gains


      Grim resilient, plotted alone, abided by rations
      Tidal wave treachery turned streets to swamps
      Flotsam tops remnants sea's fury didn't flatten 
      Successors gorge on corpses misfortunes crop

      
      Erased ocean era, crook posts pitifully campaign 
      Brashly I churn bathtubs of backstroked arachnids 
      Inhabit rainforest ripple stream, source I can claim
      Traverse canopy like trampoline, scout eyes active



       
      8th March 
      Out of Mangrove

Tragedy At Sea

Natalia Andrea Larranaga Fajardo 

Here lies one who died pitifully
She would have sought anonymity,
But publicity stole away her privacy
She threw herself off a ship at sea.
Trying to salvage her favorite flip-flops
And got sucked into the vessel’s props. 

Written December 4, 2022
[as reported by San Andres, Colombia
newspaper on November 27, 2022]

I Gotta Laugh So I Don'T Cry

A sweet, lonely lady of, perhaps, ninety-two
Stared into my eyes as she nodded her head
Squeezing my hand ever so tightly, she said,
“You’re my kind of man. I suppose you’ll do!”

I’ve been propositioned a few times before
Not more than every widowed man, I suspect,
Elderly widows suffering from benign neglect
But never so obviously at the sanctuary door!

The twinkle in her eyes betrayed her intent
As though she had no time left for idle chatter
She stood tall, and got straight to the matter,
I dared not ask her exactly what she meant.

“So, how about a date?” bluntly, she asked,
Her uninhibited approach left me no place to go
A younger pastor would’ve replied a simple no,
I stammered, stuttered, and stood fully aghast.

I thought she might not remember anything I said
So, I thanked her and said, “I’ll try to find a time.”
For a moment I felt like a pitifully inept mime,
Then, seconds later, I was wishing I were dead. 

Written November 14, 2022
Submitted to “Pick-a-Title Vol 33" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh

Are You a Misfit

ARE YOU A MISFIT?

Per chance, in this universe, you are one?

That feeling, somehow you were born in the wrong century. You might look at common 
dress.
You see it as dull, sloppy and freaky.
And you want clothes gallant, elegant and
even a tad cheeky!


Or the sense that you are a lone driver, facing
four lanes of oncoming traffic!
You ponder, what have I done wrong and down comes the pain and unbearable panic.


You get invited to an elegant soirée?
There you are, chandeliers and escargot galore.
However, you are pitifully ignored,feeling like a worn out mat, lying dead at an abandoned cottage door.

Now, let’s look at the way people think.
You see them as horridly light to heavily stuck in their brains!
Poor suffering you! You suffer from the thought they want to drown you with rats in a drain.

You suffer grossly from I-itis!
It’s time to give to the world, as it has given so
much to you.
And realize, they are not perfect either...
Give those people more than a chance or two!


                       5-16-2022

A Present To Myself

I wallow in self-hate pitifully often
Nitpicking every single flaw I have 
But sometimes when I observe myself
From outside my body
I admire myself 
My sturdy vessel that is covered in scars
Child birthing hips
Capable of recreation
Eyes filled with golden nectar
A heart that is home to many 
I’m a creation of God 
I’m precious for being born
Others might think this is not self-love
You fools do not understand that this is
The epitome of self-love—

Vampire Sonnets X the Network

Jordan slowly stood and I just sat there 
all I could do for a minute was stare; 
Pitifully sit try and make a guess 
how many vampires were in town with us;

I wasn’t too sure I wanted to know 
it’s just better to focus on the show; 
Nothing else we really need to discuss 
eventually they would come to us;  

I looked at Jordan and he looked at me 
we knew there was a probability; 
It was a dangerous situation 
given no choice but an introduction; 

Without the approval of this network 
would the masquerade lounge revival work?

These Are Tragic Times

These are tragic times when destinies lie
Enshrouded by war's soggy drapes
And hopeless elegies fair tomorrows deny
Pitifully anguished days of separation--
Heartache, remorse and fear dare
To overshadow the lightest heart's array
Reclothing them in deep despair.
O, tragic times when men must fight
To preserve the nobler state; wend their way
Through a thousand wrongs to make a right
And spill their precious blood upon a field
Carelessly--needlessly and call it honor's sake
These are tragic times that death will not yield
To life, and wars our bravest take.


American Fellowship of Poets
Peace Poem Prize, 1968

FOURTH PLACE WINNER
Lines 8-11 taken from "These Are Tragic Times"
entered into Liberum Divisa 5 Poetry Contest
April 17, 2021

Rose In the Snow

A Rose in The Snow.
.
Deep within a forest blanketed by snow
A place yet unknown
And no one ventures or goes
Grows and clings on to life
The once most beautiful fragrant delicate rose
So sweet its heart
But fragile its petals and folds
Stretches to the sun
Stung by a bee
Overshadowed by towering  thickets of trees
.
 Without love or tender care
The rose never fully flourished
Bedraggled pitifully 
Neglected and undernourished
.
Gradually it withers away
Its petals fall to the snow
And a gust blows it astray
Never to see
Another day
.
What makes this rose so precious and special
Is because it is rare
And with so much love 
And affection to share
The last rose to ever grow.
Now nothing
Buried in snow.
.
Peter Dome©2020.

Au Revoir

If time shall not our derelict joys 
Revive with tunes melodious so, 
Let past's nostalgic merries balm
Our souls and bid all sorrows go.

Should ebbing laughter and smiles 
Their cold arcs yet vanishing carve, 
May old cheers of our jolliest whiles
Redeeming warmths pitifully impart.  

Although gone mirths seldom thwart
Present galls despite their vivid hues,
Mortal forgetteries lulling blisses are,
As would certainly void painful clues. 

Thus might sweetly reechoed tones,
Excerpts from our merriments dead,
Like beneficent ditties in unison allay
All lingering whits of lonesome dread. 

And if blunt fate her forking bivouacs
Twirl and twine in drab manners sour,
Beclouding paths erst snowing white;
Here’s bold shield in life’s icings dour.

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