Tarnishing Poems | Examples

Killick

As I hanker for anchor the anchor reveals as a w****r,
a slow-killing killick, seaman of souls,

breathlessly seeping semen like sea foam.
A sea pearl abandoned, adrift, unsure of shore,

unmoored, ropes hauling me back from the edge, the brink,
as I sink into drink, malleable mollusc, spilling lifeblood as ink.

Dropped like an anchor, his charm thirty pieces of silver -
coins tossed into water, a tarnishing glimmer.

Words that once anchored now sea-snaky snares,
sneaky wave snares drifting unseen in smothering depths.

Knife strikes of sea-light,
the knife sliding in between lives,

shucking and shocking and shattering shells.
The gathering gloom of gulls

pecking at entrails, grim pickings of scraps thrown out.
His anchor of words echoing, empty, emptied of empathy.

His weighty cross a stone around the neck,
holding my head under sea-sighs and drowning

dissolving white lilies of sea foam;
receding waves waving a final goodbye.

Moonlight

Where moon's light fears falls
a whisper of graveyard rust 
in breeze’s thin cold as rain. 
 
A pearl of frozen light 
still pond beyond the edge
shadows in the night bleed dark light
raven's pluck razor wire. 

Quills scratch glass, cracks 
a story of months
a tarnishing of  years  
silk, waves in cold winds 
lost, souls hollow of angels' eyes.

The willow's long branches
stagnant mire, sighs, & funeral pyre 
the roses drift, stains of twilight.

Teeth cut flesh
pale, blue, the orbit of sky
hourglass, shattering 
echoes of mortal man. 

The clockwork turns 
gears grind & burn
a secret slumber dark seep
twisted trees, eyes watch.

Portals to the finite horizons 
steeple’s haunt distant sands
skeletons dance in the moonlight.

Raven's pluck razor wire.
quills scratch glass, crack 
teeth, cut flesh.

Where the moon's light falls
of graveyard dust 
cold as winter’s rain.

You are an Echo

You are the echo at the bottom of my Spotify playlist,
The song I forgot to delete but skip immediately,
Because it hurts too much to listen to.
You are the echo of a story not told by me,
Twisting each time it is retold,
Less true each time, less you.
You exist as an echo in my fading memories,
Vanishing, tarnishing, and shifting the more I try to hold onto them.
You are the echo of pain I feel in my gut when I hear “Eleanor Rigby”
You are a story I tell at parties.
You will always be my first everything.
You were everything.
I don’t know who I am without you, 
I don’t know who you are.
I have no business feeling this pain,
But I have nothing to hold onto anymore.
Grabbing at smoke, clinging to your echo.
You are the echo on your best friend’s Instagram page, 
Because I can’t look at yours and I need to still see you. 
You are what I hold onto late at night when I can’t fall asleep.
You are the echo of summer days, and parking lots, and hidden corners.
You are nothing but the shadow I cling to because I can’t leave the past behind.
You are gone.
You are nothing but an echo.

Memory of death

Once sanctuary.
The uninviting undertones bellow in mourning.
A soured fate.
They say the deads sleep is endless, as my toll chimes, wakeless.
Still unsighted eyes.
With sickly bloodshot yolk, cresting as if to rise reborn.
Tarnishing sleek silvered rumination, in anniversary of the best forgotten.
Another empty plot fills a space better kept for the rigid, the disciplined.
Hands worn of time for nothing other than keeping bones wrapped. 
In unbound duty, spreading dirt, not to cover but expose.
Treadless stepping over and over the ghosts trampled in greater haste.
Who's borrowed words are sung as tribute,  in service striking back in self reverence.
Now hollowed breath exhumed.
To treat a lasting patron, the unintroduced, bares the yet collected as for tolled is all.
Reserving another debt to be owed in exchange.
They march with purpose they march for purpose, not in step. 
Peace will never reclaim them, for they know not peace.
Sleep remains a wistful dream.
Not to be conquered.

ezra's rebuttal's

bishop's tossing, of laments progressings
tarnishing hardships laddling brittish peasants
americans in progrom, cowdarting songs
never the fervor, always the jelly jeans of '50 britain
Queen Kate the first of Ireland, 
much a dew in tales of york
pompous rudelings of londen burried little catch
suggestions of subjects tender and cruel
pleasing offerings of characters countess and thrilled

BLACK BANNER II

unfurling black flags

Where moon's light fear falls
A whisper of graveyard dust
In breeze’s, thin cold as sin. 
 
A pearl of frozen blight reflects 
The still pond beyond the edge
Shadows bleed in night
As ravens pluck razor wire. 

Quills scratch glass, cold
A story of moths, a tarnishing of  gold 
Silk shroud, waves in winds
Of lost souls, eyes of angels. 

Phantom heartbeats, infinite 
The willow's long branches
Stagnant mire, of sighs, & funeral pyre 
The lilies drift, stains of midnight.

And teeth mark the flesh
Pale and blue, black flags fly
Hourglass, time itself
The echo of mortal dread. 

The clockwork figures 
Gears grind & weep
A secret slumber dark & deep
Of twisted trees, eyes of portraits.

Portals to the finite winds
In steeple's haunted 
Unfurling black flags, in swallowing light.

Culpable

Written for Ink Empress' 'Unwritten Absence' Poetry Contest. 

C(ulpa)ble

Your unwritten absence unravelled much 
Disrobing piteously your impure intent
Starkly exposing a ravaged soul as such

Cocooned in dark yarns of deceit, I lay spent
In golden gilded cage tarnishing from neglect
Plated with cosmetic veneer for society's consent

Yet, you were oblivious to the storm brewing, most perfect
Bidding the right time to sound its thunderous dissent 
NEGLECT, tacitly accepted afore, HENCEFORTH NEVER GOES UNCHECKED!

Hallucinational

Headaches and pains which I constantly feel
As I twist and turn throughout the night
Longing to conclude this vicious ordeal
Lacking the strength to win this fight
Until I remember that in order to heal

Cowardice can only ever be undone
If I gain the power to overcome this fear
Nothing can prevent me being the one
Abolishing this nightmare I constantly hear
Tarnishing the person I could have become

Instead of pursuing my dreams to show
Ordinary people can be the ideal
Never registering what I now know
About how not eating a single meal
Led me to die in this pain and sorrow

Jaundiced Eye

Deep rooted is our prejudice
Instinctively appraising all
What if God too did roll dice
Bestowed enablements recall

Jaundiced eye rapes and plunders 
Deep rooted is our prejudice
Tarnishing Gods sublime wonders
Plunging soul into an abyss

Do pause awhile to reminisce
Why do we choose to judge and score 
Deep rooted is our prejudice
Blocking divine bliss to in-pour

Drift aimless in stuporousness 
Having forgotten our promise
Oblivious to That Oneness 
Deep rooted is our prejudice

13-June-2021

Black and White

Black
                  Dismal, Dreary
     Shading, Darkening, Tarnishing 
Candlelight, Shadows, Twilight, Gloom
     Bleaching, Decolorizing, Snowing
                    Pure, Clean
                         White

Lovely Paddy Fields

In the countryside,serene and wide
Sprawling paddy fields on either side.
Yet,day by day, they fade away,
As the charms of nature begin to sway.

Houses rise where once greenery grew
Schools and brick fields now claim their due.
Tenant farmers toil with heavy hearts
As their cherished lands are torn apart.

Once rich in rice, the fields decline
As construction takes what was once thine.
The roadside bushes, a memory lost
And chongas(jungle myna) pecking now bear the cost.

Tarnishing the village where life was once  thrived
The lovely paddy fields that grace the way
Are vanishing slowly day by day.
.

How To Live

How to live
By: Tom
8-12-2019
Haiku

Christians, live your life
Not tarnishing your witness.
Always honor God!

Enslaved To the Rat Race

The saying goes,
“Money makes the world go round”
and yet as I step onto this adult plane
as the initiated guest that I am,
I have come to learn
how false these six words ring,
for it is not money that purports to be
the cause behind
the revolution we see,
but instead the devil we know too closely
the one we wantonly call Greed
and its want for more
need for more
be it the paper we value more than life,
or the power we strive to hold each time
lusting after what we don’t have
desiring that which is out of reach
twisting something made from purity
and it comes as no surprise
the strides some of us will allow it to go
to grasp a coveted seat
away from the many layers below
even if it means sacrificing
people along the way
bringing with it
a great deal of hurt and pain
as long as we get what we want in the end,
even if it means tarnishing
our last and only way to repent
letting go of a conscience
we no longer recognize,
until we are unable to see
through someone else’s eyes.

Recycled Treasure

My heart has accepted every piece of furniture
you have brought in and hoarded, polished and stored, 
for show or hidden in the attic of cerebral storage. 

Cobwebs draped the entrances I walked through
without wincing, chasing extinguishing light…
gold tarnishing possibilities that I found invaluable.

Good Man

I try to believe that you’re a good man
When your actions say you’re not
With tear stained cheeks I’m hopeful
Sadly hope is all I’ve got

Through every argument where I
Defend your hallowed kindness
And try to brush it off with thoughts
Of your enemies’ bitter blindness

But every year and every day 
I hear more tarnishing tales
Of reputation burned through with horrors
Yet you’re proud of these secretive tears

The strangest, saddest, maddening part 
Is the difference between me and my peer
Where your foolish follies meet with my despair
From him are met with cheer

Raised in the same nest and fed the same seed
Somehow we differ so
He sees me and scoffs at my “ignorance”
I see him and weep for the habits he shows

I hope you’re happy. That you’ve broken my spirit
You continue to prove how you’re damned
And now my brother, with pride, shall follow your footsteps.
And I thought you were a good man.

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