I crave for stars in the sky ~
AP: 2nd place 2026
Written: April 05, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perched delicately on the shiny cobalt.
The brumal sky is where it lies.
A sight that truly captures the heart.
With such beauty, there is no disguise.
Pearly salver shines with a radiant glow.
Amber and pearliness, as a full moon show
Surrounded by a mist of ashen hue.
A wolf, feeling glum and bleak blue.
Solitary and desolate it stood.
Amid night depths In a gloomy mood.
A bluesy dirge, yowls in the night.
Oh, the woeful wails of leaden plight.
Echoing through the depths of sorrow's reef.
Watery paint that runs under the leaf.
A mournful melody, heavy and deep.
In the heart's chamber, it does seep.
A melody dances, in mild waves cascades.
A rippling composed refrain.
The heart sings its sweet serenades.
Whispers of golden yearning strain.
Haply I think on thee
The lark of wholeness
At break of a new day
Wipes away separation's grip
And rises in recognition of
The sullen stories which
Separate me and thee...CC
Interpreting:
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
~~William Shakespeare..Sonnet 29
Stiffly staring
from a faded
frightened far
is a sullen
silken star.
Scornfully
scattered behind
it’s skittish
skin of scolded
scowling scars.
Youthfully
yearning
for a life
contentedly
cleansed in
candlelight.
Snow flake moments
In winter's bite
The frost advises
Resignation from winter's sight
A new sadness came over me,
So unlike any, I had before.
In
sullen
graveyard of
souls a heavy
mist peppering down,
across granite tombstones;
here lie centuries, stories,
that only the listening soul
may hear and reveal in numerous
ways and in its revelations, improve us;
the soul has powers beyond our finite minds.
Sullen, Solemn, Soulful Sense of Sanity
Minutes, days, weeks, months and years.
Count the time whether filled with joy or tears.
It’s sad when the wall is the only one that hears.
As it just repeats your own thoughts to quell your fears.
Is it a wonder they just think you’re sad.
Counting blessings you only dreamed you had.
The stripes on your heart and soul were earned.
Symbols of the lessons you just never learned.
There’s a pride that comes with losing so long.
There are many who have written that very same song.
It’s the kind that get’s played when no one is there.
Like when you listen to the radio and there’s only dead air.
The question’s been asked so many times.
Why it don’t make sense and never rhymes
Some think they know the reason that evades us.
But we know, you gotta buy a ticket to ride this bus.
So when the sun won’t shine and clouds roll in.
Remember how hard you fought to try and win.
As you’re up on that shelf stuck on the fence.
Living with that sullen, solemn soulful sense.
i watch the eagle soar
through this crimson hued sky
as i inhale
this sultry air
and gasp
a new day is dawning
yet my thoughts linger
as i clutch memories
of yesterday's now past
i can't grasp these thoughts
twisting through my head
like vines on old trees
as they hold on tight
choking words
like a noose
around neck
i stutter
through sullen whispers
dropping to my knees
as i clasp my hands
in prayer
looking for answers
i'll never find
i hear the screams
of this eagle
echo in my head
as he lands
on the bough
above
silence breaks
like twigs
and minds
snapping
as a rabbit
scurries for cover
in the thicket nearby
knowing death
was not his fate
this day
i hear the trickle
of a stream
in the distance
as tears trace
my face
wondering why
it was yours
as memories
glide on by
June 29, 2021
Grasp Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
in the depths of dreams
there lurks a sullen shadow
dreadfully daunting
an alter ego
with the face of transgression
tirelessly haunting
When all
Is said
And written
For someone
So smitten
By poetry
And prose
Thus Propositioned
Now
Back to yore
Is this
The end
A surprise
On page turn
When all possible
Combinations
Of thoughts
Ideas
And words
Make the palette greyer
And the snorting bore
Sullen
Friar of dark night
sullen glances brief broadcast
the unholy moon
Emerges from shadows loom
hidden clues to Satori
Should tardy relief take full years more
To grace fallen visages with angst taut,
Let kind nature her multiplied joys hone,
And gild final grins past art's fickle fault.
May saddest souls that now fret most
Gleam with heaven's grandest succor,
No more numbed by fear's fake ghost;
Free from inky mists and bleak rancor.
The gloomiest of hearts down with care
Shall glitter under jubilation's final glare,
And forget prickly sorrow's ghastly pain;
Wholly unafraid of shame's broken train.
He'll his victorious head at last carry high
After blacking ignominies and stigmas go;
None shall Art's virgin blossoms blight so,
Killing fresh dreams whose sign inch nigh.
This star-crossed champ at last shall reign,
And his chafing fan her dead cheers regain.
"Loving and losing:
Different only by one letter and a million degrees of pain."
~ Jessica Katoff ~
With each rising sun and waning moon
I envisioned the dark eclipse of our ruin.
"You're crazy as a loon, he said. "It's delirium."
I did not pretend his caustic words held truth
To burnished stars I grieved, forlorn for love
Melancholy blue, I knew I had to turn away
I mourned, heart bereaved in solemn reverie,
as if interred in a crypt of egregious umbra
I longed for an awakening, from shadow to light
for someone to mediate a semblance of sanity
but into the sullen pitch of night, I quietly ebbed
There was nothing left of our love to consecrate
Bound by chains of despair and indigent of faith
I became obtuse to reality; I had given up on me
but with wounds etched across my delicate heart
I freed myself from apogee and rose above sorrow
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 9, 2019
Eight Word Challenge
John D. Hamilton
Challenge was to use the following words:
OBTUSE INDIGENT EGREGIOUS DELIRIUM
DELICATE CONSECRATE MEDIATE AWAKENING
Coats of rain clouds there
No swaying braids on the skirt
Idle butterfly
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