Sullenly Poems | Examples

Passions

Dad is out back,
speaking to his swedes and turnips.

He only grows tubers, root vegetables,
that I sullenly refuse to eat.

There is one flower
a Passionflower, 'Passiflora Incarnate'
that clings to the garden fence.

I could not see any passion in it,
until mum showed me
the creamy crucifix within
the blue and white corona.

Dad belly laughs
as mum, showing me,
piously makes the sign of the cross.

Dad is digging up a real beauty,
that's what he called it,
a 'real beauty',
a soil crusted cannonball,
the monstrous offspring
of a cabbage and a turnip.

He was not a religious man,
but he did believe fervently,
in those strange passions
some have
for cabbage soup
and mashed turnip.

Winter Is On His Way

Now autumn is fading slowly away and nights lengthen
oh! too soon marches in winter with icy chilly fingers 
that every thing touched falls into deep slumbering sleep .
as soft pure white flakes fall thick and fast covering all/

Letting us know that it will be long till the sun breaks
winter's time to rule with Jack Frost playing his jokes.
Water slows and often freezes as it touches frozen land
hoar frost covers the trees. icicles descend from branches.

The earth becomes a wonder land that sparkles and twinkles
as we huddle in front of roaring log fire that hiss and spit
sullenly at us sending showers of red hot sparks of weird
colours that enchant and beguile us with heavenly pine scents.

The air is full of different scents and spices from all the goodies
that have been baked, tantalizing our taste buds and we think
Winter is not so bad as we sing carols and play the usual games
while we tear open all the delightful  presents under the tree

What Have You Done For Others

Grumpy Gray was not afraid of judgement day
He groused and griped and sullenly made his way
He had been a church goer, had missed no Sunday
What have you done for others? Peter asked Mr Gray

I gave money to the church, they bought cushions for the pew.
That’s what the church did; I am asking, what did you do?
He made our long walk here dreary, somber, angry and blue.
Suggested a small child who was wise at the age of two.

Grumpy Gray had to sit in purgatory for a long time said Lu.
He had to learn a lesson about being kind to people too.
He had no idea his job on earth was to not be so danged blue.
When will he finally get released? Asked his cousin Sibbly Sue.

The Invisible Vagabond

The silent soul
who sullenly
seeps within
the sentimental
seas of solitude.
Always lead astray
by every
passing day.
Just to remain
amongst the stars.
Striding through
time’s strangled streams
of faintly
faded dreams.
Embedded beneath
the once blue
eyed beams of an
embittered beauty.

Obama's My Weapon - In Biden's Own Words

Folks say I'm struggling
That I'm old and confused,
They don't see all the haggling
Which leaves them bemused.

My colleagues are wordy
My enemies too,
But my willpower is sturdy
As I'm all for the Blue.

If now a bit slower
Even friends I seem faze,
But post Trump the bar's lower
And that's my fail safe.

The Media's a pain
What's with the shouting,
I shan't play their game
Their continual doubting.

Then there's old Bernie
And his Marxists galore,
With their bone headed journey
To simply point score.

Republicans matter not a bit in my mind
Obstructive and loudly they wail,
But Politics taught to never be kind
So let them act up and sullenly rail.

As to the Trumpers, what can I say
They live in a universe all of their own,
Their partisan anger a cause for dismay
While the stolen election they relive every day.

When all's said and done I'm proud of my job
Obama's on side to bring me relief,
My one secret weapon to quieten the mob
Sharing the load to make my weeks brief.

Summer Slips Slowly

Summer slips slowly, sullenly southward
Together the terns try taking their turns
Under unusually ubiquitous umber umbrellas
Versatile velocity verified via villagers
While winter welcomed withering weather.

HONORABLE MENTION
written October 7, 2021
"Alliteration and Assonance" Contest
All Poetry - October 11, 2021

The Burn

Stalks crackle,
cars thread the slow-burn.
Straw, insect legs and fumes
get into the lungs of trucks,
make them talk backwards
like the devil on Sundays.

Bygone and by-passed farmers
leave their tractors,
run across the highway
into abandoned barns.

Eventually the fire eats itself -
hay wisps
float away into forgetfulness.

No one burns corn stubble now,
but the smoke can be seen
moving beneath the sunbaked sod
where ghosts still sullenly
fork-over long-blackened reeks.

Perspective

Outside my window glints today
Lighted and pearly as Milky Way
Tinted purple just as I expected
Where darkened night decayed

Now yawning sullenly, suddenly
Shrouding glee of morning rising
Silencing birds chirping gleefully 
As cotton clouds turning unruly
Pitter-patter, raining on dawning

Much alike my yesterday’s dream
That spun so much of revelry
Only to then abandon me in reality.

You are busy gazing at prairies,
Winds rustling summer’s revelry
As rudderless streams, giggling, 
Zigzag on terrain shamrock green;

You vouch for rainbow unseen
Hiding behind obscured skyline,
Insist there’s a sound of hello
In parting voice of each goodbye

Peering in distance on other side
Sighting upon a magenta sky
Impending joy of golden sunrise.

June 26, 2021
Placed 1st: All your (June 27) poetry contest by Brian Strand

The Devil Dreads the Introvert

THE DEVIL dreads THE INTROVERT

A metonym 
of metonymy,
Introvertishly 
devilish.
Never gets

word famish,
eruption of moods
heated-up in solitary;
Sudden upheaval

wrecks a show.
Even
Devil quivers,
Pampering
the introvert,
Mute saturation 

of ambiance, even
Silence shivers;
Seismic shift...
Outspoken
quietness,

Sullenly silent,
Words token,
somberly sulking.
Raise a dust,

strike our pulse...
what's the fuss?
Carnival of fear,
confusion 'ere there,
Word economy 
is his human anatomy.

Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© March 2021.

Sand Castles

In the middle of a sky so blue
death came suddenly, sullenly.
Schräge Musik to my ears,
the sum of all fears in that
late October sky of brilliant blue
when I, one of the few, knew, too late,
the fate of a lapsed moment
in the foment of an aerial duel,
the smell of hot cannon shell
and aviation fuel assaulting the senses,
lowering my defences and sending me
spiralling seaward like a lame duck
who's wing has been clipped
by random shot, which this was not,
no, this was cold, calculated hunting,
shunting me down in an oil blown
maelstrom of wind, blood and fire,
flying by wire to a cataclysmic shattering,
leaving just a smattering of my mortal remains,
a few stains on that pristine strand,
where once, as a boy, I built castles of sand.

I Heard the Dread In Her Voice

name said sullenly
i heard the dread in her voice
so i braced myself

The Burn

Stalks crackled
where cars threaded the slow-burn.
Straw, insect legs and fumes
got into the lungs of trucks,
made them talk backwards
like the devil on Sundays.

Long dead farmers leave their tractors,
run across the highway
into abandoned barns.
Eventually the fire ate itself.
Hay wisps 
floated away into forgetfulness.

No one burns the stubble now,
but the smoke can be seen
moving still under the corn 
where the devil sullenly forks over 
long-blackened reeks.

Weeping Windows

Our eyes may be the windows of the soul,
through my windows I see all the sorrows.
Where sorrow's tears always do take a toll;
hoping to improve everyone's tomorrows.

My fortress, built as a face to the world;
reveals that "fair is foul and foul is fair".
Discerning what is just and unfurled -
then can we ever see the real truth out there?

Bound by my fears and tears I sadly weep.
Is something within sullenly seething?
In my soulful refuge I "murder sleep" -
like widows in back of a church fretting.

From my perch my judgments are on the brink.
Now I see the slanted ways people think.

May I Come In

A little flight takes off nearby
Oops! It does not drift into the sky;
A tailor bird delves into the nest,
feeds the chicks, the food best
So whenever I step into my garden
I ask them "May I come in?"

Some babblers stare at me sullenly
Oh! They're aiding grownup kids fly.
Umpteen birds "Who's the mom?", I wonder!
"We live in community" they thunder.
So whenever I step into my garden
I ask them" May I come in?

Common crow butterflies glide in the air,
and seek their host plants everywhere;
Finalized the pink oleander as their host plant
Soon, a kaleidoscope of butterflies gonna enchant
So whenever I step into my garden
I ask them" May I come in?

White bubbles encroach the green grass
Bubbles emanate cracking, become like glass;
Oh! A big head with small eyes emerges,
garden lizard raises and starts to diverge
So whenever I step into my garden
I ask them" May I come in?

Squirrels scamper everywhere
Munias, hoard millet seeds from here
Bulbuls, busy eating the worms
Biodiversity works in full term
So whenever I step into my garden
I ask them" May I come in?

Trazadone

This pill that make me sleep and takes away my dreams. 
It keeps my thoughts and leaves me disesteemed. 
Who doth have these rights, 
To take away my starry nights?

When the morning wakes it is just about certain, 
Hopes are lost as I draw back my curtain. 
Just one pill that reels
My reflections it always steals.
 
I procrastinate and take it purposely late. 
Avoidance cannot protect me from fate. 
It mocks me each time, 
I hear the bells on the clock chime. 

Begrudgingly, I swallow the damn' tablet  down, 
Then sullenly slip into my nightgown. 
"Do not go to sleep," 
I ruminate, "These are my sheep!"

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