Short Sulking Poems

a world without words

appropriation sulking

no tango to dance...

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Such a soul I was,
Sulking in corners,
On my lonesome,
Part of me relished it-
The other despised,
Social tendencies-
A bit different,
Me?
Why yes,
I’ll forever be a loner....

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The cause of the newlyweds' tiff
occurred when he told her, 'I'm stiff' -
he didn't explain
his neck was in pain
and sulking, she gave him a biff!

written 27th February for Tania's contest...

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love is in the air
gifts of love seen everywhere
lonely heart sulking


a heart beating fast
wishing for a valentine
tears line lonely eyes


This day of love
Gave me scary wounds
I just ask you, why me? 




for pd's contest...

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I MUST FEEL EVERY MOMENT.
around.
ME, when.
I'm the ONE in a CROWD||

There are. 
NO GODS.
left.
in OUR.
Crowds, our.
HUDDLED.
masses, sulking||

Here there are. 
NO CROWDS.
no, never WERE.
any.
crowds, here in.
my .
own .
SAHARRA||...

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A single tender 
timid tear 
trickling 
down my pail 
pain painted face.
Leading it’s 
pleading sulking serenade.
Which reflects 
back to me 
a bitter 
burning memory.
Of when our 
love like a dove 
flew into the 
saddened sea 
of fantasy....

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Marie planned a fabulous holiday 
                   Looked forward to once-in-a-lifetime stay,
                                  Flashy bikinis in van.
                              She must get a lovely tan...
                    Left poor hubby sulking in great dismay!...

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Many times I've thought of him
I can't get rid of the pain
Sulking around until someone asks what's wrong
Even my dog looks sympathetic
Right to him I wish I could go
Anyone could see my love for him
Better off dead
Love sucks when they don't love you back
Everyday is miserable...

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Pitter-Patter, Pitter-Patter, the sound of little feet, though you are lost, I know you are not, My baby we'll meet again, my heart was broken for you, I'm sulking the child I'll never meet, pitter-patter, pitter-patter the sound of an angels feet, pitter-Patter pitter-patter, my Baby one day ill meet....

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Our linguistic limbs sulk as the
dreary day progresses.
It begs and aches for more pain
for it's grown accustomed.
The longing and desire that lingers
within the blood pulsating
As each day marches forth,
A feeling of hate submerges and
dominates the emotion sulking
back
Toward the dark core we now possess....

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You are a bandage for the wounded,
for blooded sanguine offerings.
Hussain Grey for well routined soldiers
in the trench fields of Flanders
gallant to a point of duty

Grey I see you sulking,
cowardly marches
on weeping willow lined roads
cherished that only once
to storm away
unable to make amends
for your dun colour...

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Blue melancholy stalks today
To wheedle me with sulking voice
But rather than to fall its prey
I instead resolve to rejoice

And celebrate this blessed life,
Obliging not this day’s brief plight
But honoring so little strife
Through years of gladness and delight.



October 21, 2016
Contest No. 226 any form-any theme with max of 12 lines
Brian Strand...

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asters in her hair
and wearing a hint of blush-
September strolls in. . . .
crooning melancholy strains 
she bids adieu to summer.

October follows-
whimsical and ruddy-cheeked. . . .
sometimes blowing in
she brightly draws attention 
then exits quite eerily

following sulking
in her sister’s faded gown
November arrives -
stepping lively at the time
of harvest’s celebration...

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You do not know me until you walk
My exile years of pain
A withered flower on the stalk
Where abilities sleep in chain
And I have hoped for more
Digging the edges of dry gardens
Using salt water from the shore
Of grief, sulking at deaf pardons
I want to hear my children laugh
And feel their arms around me
To redeem the time and shout aloft
Rewriting wasted history....

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SIBILANT SESSION

Struggling in simple silence
Sudden static sounds survive
Supplanting a sort of serenity
Serving to satisfy the several
Sulking in sole secluded state
Seriously spiteful in severance
Still seething, seeing something
Senses stealing any sensitivity
Stopping a shiny silver smile
Sending signals to slowly sink
Submerged in silent salty seas
Sibilant souls sadly surrender...

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Written words doomed to be
Sear as writers cut them free

Worn wisps weave the web
Linking eyes through the net

Butterflies blossom in degrees
Painting candles on their knees

Doors slam dark regret
Tearing rage forbidden hands

Syllables sling sinuous songs
As a bell blasts chiming wrongs

Saviors shake heaven’s debt
Leaving children to stand

In icy winter winds
With sullen sorrow sulking yet…...

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It’s sheer agony—
The silence hangs like
a cold breath in the air;

    Worse than waiting
    for death in a battlefield,
    Worse than waiting to
    reach ashore adrift at sea,
    Worse than the maddening thirst
    in the middle of the desert
    Or getting lost in the wilderness
    finding no way out—

It is waiting for the one who sits
in a corner sulking to come around.


~"Waiting" contest by Craig Cornish...

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Spring stuck out her warm tongue
The cold air of winter still clung
Spring wore the suns coat and shone
Winter thawed out, sulking alone
Spring sat on her throne, and sung

Winter was hopping mad and thick
Blaming spring for arriving too quick
She licked off the ice from winters cone
Colours of spring, setting the tone
Winter left in a huff, announcing it was a trick!


20.2.22
Contest Name: Spring in air
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani...

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The promised apple I did not eat.

The red skin started bleeding
in my palm. Butterfly flesh
was unable to glide.

Two round, intense eyes were chasing me.

A namesake volcano
bursts open in my chest,
then I notice the flowing lava
from hungry eggs.

The earth will not conceive again.

In the backyard a blue jay
was waiting for the golden seed.
I suck a fatal tweak
in the sundrunk green.

Thirsting for the logic will never the unmade.						


SATISH VERMA...

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Pelting.

Stones among magnolia clouds
eating the day through holes
in a wish for the paper grey moths.

Hail and unencumbered beauty.

Dents in hoods and broken glass
in crackling spider web patterns
construed as nature's designs.

Melting.

Rain of grey sulking atmospheres
who feather their wings
around unwilling souls.

Sleep and the brooding sunset.

Puddles of iridescent oils
kissing yellow rubber galoshes
in an effort to make peace....

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Why do men sit there sulking alone?
Is it worse than Premenstrual Syndrome?
If PFS worse for men?
Indeed, by PFS. what is meant?
Why, it's Post Football Syndrome!!
Don't say it's only a game, Oh no!
Round here, that's blasphemy,
Or, let's say, utter heresy,
SHHHH, let's tiptoe away.....
Dodging his tantrums today....
Find something else to do,
How does PFS affect you?

Why do men sit sulking alone?
Easy, it's Post Football Syndrome....
SSHHHH.........

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Young Jimmy asked if he was dead.
I laughed before I answered.
And then I told him that he was
and Jimmy's faith was fractured.

I called him a philosopher.
Too dumb to even ask.
and left him all alone,
just sulking in a bask.

The next time Jimmy came my way
I knew he needed help
and covered up my laughs that day
despite the urge to yelp.

Now every time I saw poor Jimmy
I always stopped and said:
Goodbye dear Jimmy; never Hi,
for now poor Jimmy's dead....

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i woke to him
perched like some
ravenous beast above
my door, his pallid
bulk & sulking wings
skidding to the floor.
lights burned from
his eyes while
he hold of my ancient
indulgence, exposing
the verge of a
chosen path
& some unfolding amoral
tap dance,
a coreographed
last chance
granting
me entrance to every
unseen world.
he smiled as i twirled,
stepping into the fire.
plucking his lyre, hoofs
clip-clapping to the beat
of me melting into the heat....

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The promised apple I did not eat.

The red skin started bleeding
in my palm. Butterfly flesh
was unable to glide.

Two round, intense eyes were chasing me.

A namesake volcano
bursts open in my chest,
then I notice the flowing lava
from hungry eggs.

The earth will not conceive again.

In the backyard a blue jay
was waiting for the golden seed.
I suck a fatal tweak
in the sundrunk green.

Thirsting for the logic will never the unmade.					


SATISH VERMA...

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The meekly
mollified man
subtly sews
his silently
simplistic sights
upon reality’s
rickety rufescent light .
Always left
lifelessly looming
beneath the brain’s
bashfully blurred
background
of benevolence.
Frankly flickering out
the faded flaws
whose firm
factual flames
of effectiveness
have by now
grimly grown
themselves
out of Life’s
limp lashes
of limelight .
Solemnly swearing
their silent
silken seas
of sorrow
into the
sulking sands
of insignificance ....

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