Short Dismally Poems
Short Dismally Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Dismally by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Dismally by length and keyword.
Grass sopping wet
Roads covered in rain
Asphalt slippery
Yet again
Dismally upsetting
All Earth looks wrong
Yielding to what nature wants
She sings this dreary song
Sifting through prairie dust, letting it fall towards more of the same.
The great visions I had for this place now seem trite and foolish.
I dismally walk away while the clouds above let go a tiny ocean.
Love is.. a quiet dignity
not handled with flippancy
it dances with symmetry
and beautiful imagery
It doesnt give dismally
Beautific is its chivalry
Pretty is its symphony
Brilliance is its proclivity
The stiffened
star strummed streams
of half hummed hopes
and dismally
dismantled dreams.
Wistfully washing
through the
withering woodlands
of the worldly
wandering truth
to what this
life really means .
Dismally sad and blue was I
One jet-black day, then I walked
Outdoors, and voila! A goldmine
In the sky...sunshine
Arbitrium Divisa 5 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Gregory R Barden
Date submitted: 12/18/2019
Taken from the 2nd stanza of my 2016 poem, "Serendipity"
But as we begin
to break down
and burn
We will wistfully
watch and learn
that in this lifeline
you’ll have to
be a
dismally
darkened dove.
Left to let go
of the one
thing you’ve
ever loved.
As you raise
your weakly
whitened
wings to fly
into the
numbing unknown
nature of
the nurturing
night sky.
dunking into the water
dismally falling apart
dashing hopes of little boy
never minds says his mommy
we will build sandcastles now
beach is a wonderful place
it fans imagination
Written 5-15-2020
Contest: Finish Line in Seven
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Chose Prompt number 2 Paper Boats
Checked syllable count with www.howmanysyllables.com
When life seems so tempest tossed,
And all seems so dismally lost,
Climb back up that slippery slope;
Just remember, there is always hope!
When in the throes of trials and stress,
And in times of forlorn hopelessness,
'Twill be much easier for you to cope,
Remembering that there is always hope!
Entry For Carolyn Devonshire's "Hope" Contest
My Sydney,
From here to eternity,
You are my savior, my sanctity.
When my soul was shadowed
You were rendered hallowed.
Lending me strength to fight
By being my beacon, my guiding light
Within my inner battle so stark,
One abysmally abhorrent and dismally dark.
Silhouetted in your shining radiance,
You beautifully beckoned my presence
With your mere auras essence.
Chasing the unforgiving cruise of fleeting years,
I dash at lightning speed hoping to apprehend
Slowing impediments and crippling fears;
Fettering setbacks that arcs of successes bend.
And I know not if I’ll at last prevail
Or shall to failure’s claws succumb;
But whether I will excel or dismally fail
I’ll keep trying till all toil’s rewards come.
Chasing the unforgiving cruise of fleeting years,
I dash at lightning speed hoping to apprehend
Slowing impediments and crippling fears;
Fettering setbacks that arcs of successes bend.
And I know not if I’ll at last prevail
Or shall to failure’s claws succumb;
But whether I will excel or dismally fail
I’ll keep trying till all toil’s rewards come.
I lose myself willingly
in the depths of your gaze,
where light wanes like a bitter moon,
and something black flickers back—
—you are a palpitation I should fear,
dismally drawn to my knowing.
Your dark brown eyes a crag,
carved between skin, devastation,
and abysmal Horror—half-wild,
half-claimed—hungers between us—
—morendo!—
too sibilant to name.
Sadness is betimes masked by pretence,
And made to believe that "I am fine".
Anger is disguised by fake smiles,
assuring that "Everything is all right".
Envy is engrossed with curses always
but, externally wishing others "Best of luck".
Emotions are dismally manipulated according to circumstances.
22-6-2020
Note: It's Only Make believe poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina Riddle.
Infinitely I long for
Someone to write a song for.
Dismally I claim to be
Content with being lonely.
Pitifully I fake my glee
While my sorrow wallows slyly.
Regretfully the truth is:
I think I have lost my bliss.
But how, I pray, does one retrieve,
Thoughts they now cannot believe?
How can I regain my joy,
If my heart is not employed?
How can I avoid the noose
If I've lost my only muse?
Emotional vacuity thrives in the thicket
where the trees of life stand dismally upright,
seeking the hollow heaven they cannot reach,
but branches suture the intricate web of living.
Roots sink into the essence of time,
holding the formless epitome of every soul,
defined unperceived by the dissolved self,
lost in the silence of the fervent foliage.
That’s where you’ve gone
with the spirited sentience of existence.
Endlessly the widows weep
For their adored lovers lost
To their final, eternal sleep;
This is wars cost.
The reasoning for their loss they can’t dispel,
For in reality there’s no protected to keep;
Of this irrefutable knowledge they can’t quell,
Forever floating in their emotional sea they steep.
The loss of these souls is abundant,
Annually growing dismally deep,
To the point the numbers are redundant;
Endlessly more and more widows will weep.
raisins in the sun;
black men run
snowflakes in june
fall from the sky
and dismally we cry
for the moon
has frozen itself
the glare of cold stars
burns our souls;
the clouds are weeping.
old mother nature is senile.
she sits darning holes
that have worn in the ages
while
eternity is slipping
into oblivion
as a black sun is dripping
(or maybe it's crying)
dark blobs upon the pages
of the book of life
and her children
are dying...