Prognostication Poems | Examples

I am February

Fierce am I, and fearless
Challenging the shades of winter
Taunting its dreaded demise
Mocking the shadow's prognostication
Tickling the timid hearts
Of somnambulant lovers
Arising to a chilling challenge
I stand the guardian of March’s madness
Exacting a toll on all who pass
For I am February
And I hold no heart
But yours

Epoch Of Reticence

Serpent! Those words were! 
On the way, is silence
Because words aren't meeker 
this time, to confront grievance

Epoch of reticence! 
On the way, is winter of despair
Because hope is true
this time, for thy worst nightmare

Prognostication won't work! 
On the way, is melancholic fall
Because eyes are ought to be slavish
this time, to gaze, they won't answer the call

Void or something never enough? 
Crossed the way, came fire
to which you are introduced as silence
Cause fate has turned into a liar

False Prophets

False Prophets


                            Spirituality for one, atheism for other

                            deterred


                             Skeptic dissenting extreme religiosity

                             wickedly interred


                             Charlatans deluded permeable minds

                             weaponized infectious lie


                             Prognostication of human destiny fails

                             for in time tyrannical powers, die!











Penned: 1?11/2022
12:18 a.m.
Lake Worth
Florida USA

Prognostication

Most rigorous astrology can hardly divine
Why flamy galactic orbs often burning fall; 
Or the calm pull behind shiniest meteorites'
Hurtling lower from their neat nestlings tall. 

I own that apt eyes as of the lauded Magi may
From starry ciphers tap signs of a coming day; 
Yet no tiny mass among the fiery marvels high, 
Can answer when first they graced the idle sky. 

While I'd rate their near-syzygies tolerably rare, 
I know ethereal balls as bereft of all oral strain.
All sheen but full non-awareness of birth-date, 
Ought to render these speechless vapors vain.

What telescoped forms of dumb orbitings mute
Might imbue with insight in placid images cute
Any salient squinter into thick lens herebelow, 
Where tiptop harps and strung wonders bore? 

Astrologers and their crafty stars will sweat to tell, 
Where and when their augury-warped instincts fell.

A Sonnet Variation For Greta

This run of good days is going to end
bad times are coming just around the bend
cash in your chips, there ain’t no tomorrow
future holds only worry and sorrow.

Armageddon of our own creation
as we burn in pyres of  self-cremation
caught in words of convenient denial 
grasp not the flash of the truthteller’s smile.

Yet from the rubble, a New Deal is made
Fridays for Future, a children’s crusade
as those whose time has come, now realise
elder’s inaction has darkened their skies.

We who’ve failed in our prognostication
pass the stick to a new generation.


7/9/2019

Black On Black

Black
The shade of void;
containing 
universes within universes.

Black is the onyx eye of God;
the obsidian mirror of prognostication
the future’s revelations.

Black is the beauty that highlights color;
pigmentation swimming in the void;
abstract muses, dreaming dreams; 
birthing visions.

Black is the liquid zen;
where I become one with the source.

Black On Black

Black
The shade of void;
containing 
universes within universes.

Black is the onyx eye of God;
the obsidian mirror of prognostication
the future’s revelations.

Black is the beauty that highlights color;
pigmentation swimming in the void;
abstract muses, dreaming dreams; 
birthing visions.

Black is the liquid zen;
where I become one with the source.



8-25-2021
The Color Black' Contest Info
Chantelle Anne Cooke

This Is Not Fiction

The oceans are a polluted mire

The land is choking on plugs and wire

And rainforest are ablaze with fire

The future could not be more dire.


The sky is full of toxic chemical trails

And the earth on which we live is frail

A mix of pollutants and Pesticides Leave the air stale

This is a very sad and sorry tale.


Meanwhile many species are near extinction

Our humanity is not shining with distinction

I could make a prognostication or prediction

But what's true is this tale is real and not fiction.

23/5/18

If I Persue, I Will Do My Damndest

If I persue, I will do my damndest!

Hey I TRIED MY BEST!
The one you call yours.
The angel who sent a fun.
If you looked at me differently,
You look suppressed!
You hide behind your head!
Carpe diem!
To a solider who was the best homie at the time.

Prognostication
-_-Sleeping with a dagger?

It's a restless night, the days are getting worse,
Yet I have applied and asked for your help, 
You prayed for a plague to rain on the! Only believing in what's right. 
Forsaken and banished. 
It's a shame really,
I inferred to much,
I wasn't use to the love,
Only after losing the realist,
Did I dream her saying, 
"You idiot, I still loved you when you thought I didn't!"
Should've known this was happening,
Let it all go,
I rose up one morning,
"Look at yourself Evan, 
You're worthless when you look like that!
Your present is now your future is in your present.
Your past will burn in the food you eat and go up in smoke."
I really miss you though.
It's a problem I have.
I just crave being next to you.
Time to get a job back?!
He came looking to be a cook.
Fight good fight of faith.
Listen now.
The enemy has no power over me.

Videlicet: This Three-Notebooked Writing

Takes it a powerful, almighty congerie of the 
Most toilsome and rigorous lucubration, 
To write these, my poems...my poetries. 
Or, insofar as declaring, do I 
Attempt thus to prevaricate?
Is my literary legerdemain 
And poetic prestidigitation and prognostication such that it 
Requires little duty, less laboriousness, and a
Far lesser sort of toilsomeness to compose this, 
My poetry?
This be the forty-fourth poetic work by my hand enwritten
In this hebdomadal period-
This week, in short.
Yes, in something lesser than a hebdomadal span, even 
Did I complete, thus far, 
This three-notebooked writing.
Quotidian was this writing and diurnal, 
And hodiernally I can write little of the quondam poems: 
Written in such a fervorous, blazing, blurring manner, 
That I scarce am sure I canst rightly recall the composition of a solitary one.

Jaded Little Fairytale

So jaded, misappropriated, confused and lost. Fairly fairytales,
Lived, at what cost? Is nothing sacred anymore?

Modern day Cinderellas’ marry princes and are soon swept away by crocodiles 
with beguiling smiles.

Prince Charming, answers the call of false maidens in distress 
Who appeal to a nature so base, he sits alone in a ramshackle castle obsessed
With wooing not keeping, 
all the while held together by twine and broken glass, into his heart, darkness creeping

While Romeo is in loved with Mercutio instead of Juliet
When animals are treated as children and children are treated just like pets.
When we live side by side with fragile happiness, but welcome regrets.

When indifference and passion are fellow bed mates
And the expected prognostication of marriage is more convenience and less about faithfulness and faith.

When dreams are shattered as soon as they are born
When the steady cadence of dying love comforts the love-lorn 
When heartache is expected and dreams unspoken

That is when the fairy-tale is broken.

Prognosticator

Wandering through the crystalline mists, 
is truly a revelation.
Dreamers merely dream, 
but seers roam misty, dark realms, 
to find the truths, which others would hide.

The swirling fog forms;
takes its sweet time.
 I seek clarification;
Fog only hints, at life’s coming storms.

Some have died, for their gift; 
slaughtered by those who can’t or won’t 
try to understand; 
insisting that,
they must be of service to others.

It’s no comfort to know events,
Before they occur, but
God gives gifts.
Prognostication is one of the
Best and worst gifts.

The god within,
will not be silent;
inner knowledge is the wheel,
that steers us to safety.
A prognosticator channels the map,
for those who cannot see.

Punxsutawney Phil's Weather Forecast

Folks wait with bated breath 'cross the nation,

   For Phil's insightful prognostication.

      What will his prediction be?

         We will have to wait and see,

            After Phil wakes from his hibernation!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved

(Not for contest)

Breathe and Touch Reality

Overwhelmed by life's burdens
that bring on an unexpected crisis?
Breathe and touch reality
when all your roads are shot,
hope for change and don't lose heart;
not all of us have been there and felt rage,
known urge and sought out empathy
from friends who had courage 
to lift the curtain which hid ingenuity
and consider every possibility. 


Why have we been caught up in such utter state of misery,
given up on happiness by allowing demise?
Some of us blame their misfortunes on destiny....
but what's destiny? A succession of events that change life?
The real cause of failure is ignore prognostication,
and not be willing to take up challenges with determination!


Achievers always think positive, they breathe and touch reality 
by relying on intuition to prevent a financial meltdown;
life-long dreamers act on another level of mentality: 
which one will suit you better to achieve your potential and win?

I Alone

I am just one little man.
I will do anything I can.
Will I alone stop a catastrophe?
Don’t count too heavily on me.
The end of the world is a perpetual prediction. 
Analysts are always making a projection. 
Psychics are rampant with a prognostication. 
Many of us shudder with an ominous expectation. 
Whatever Armageddon will bring, 
will I be able to stop such a thing?

• Short Prognostication Poems
• Famous Prognostication Poems
• Best Prognostication Poems
• Read Prognostication Poems
• Long Prognostication Poems
• Prognostication Quotes