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onlylovepoetry Jul 2016
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"having found a white coal seam amidst the black bunting
that decorates their glum apprehension of tomorrow's tidings"^


the computer tablet recognizes as I essay,
                                                          ­                        the "tomorrow" word
as possessing a reality, with time sensitivity,
please,  somebody help us, almost

an inevitability

the possibility of a realizable event,
                           as if the poem composing was
the future's assuming a 99% probability,           right ready for scheduling

offering me two choices:
create event or view calendar?

as if the next shooting, bombing,
and my glum apprehension thereof,
as if ''tomorrow's" tidings were mine own doing
of my undoing,
somehow my fears create or anticipation of
the "next one" makes me a guilty part

my heart cracking with despairing moans
knowing that this is foolishness

but  
              not to me

for as we think upon it, that tiny extra precaution,
'tis already the small death of me
each death a cut in the same spot,
and the pestering wound ground deeper, bone closer

find myself
jailed in a place with no view, insecure and unprotected

no view, no window to crack, no window no view
no to letting  in fresh air, hope or something good,
and yes to no,
I know about this and that and words
intended to offer up optimism,
albeit on a small scale

I am careful not to mock
the words and those who offer up

but seriously,
don't

I came to,
I came to this place to write
only love poetry silly love songs
and some black angel sideswiped me in the left lane
writing now in stead of ways I'm dented and unforgiving
feeling stoopidly foolish            even as
I try and I try to find the seed germane to the connectivity between the horror hallmarks of these times and the ******* window is just stuck stuck stuck

I'll think I'll change my name,
honestly,
only love poetry? cries out ridiculous

this is no poem, more a teacher's note of surrender,
                                                       come back with a new identity or just a new field of endeavor

so I put that on my calendar for tomorrow
and it appears right away, right after:

6:00 am Check on Glum Apprehensions
and it appears that I'm too late

confirming I've missed my appointment so too late for my kind of tomfoolery.             and that white seam, glimpsed but not grasped, illusion noxious,, I can't seem to locate it anymore
chitragupta May 2019
Heart:
I have a book of songs,
a collection of antique emotions,
carefully crafted for someone
Like how seedlings germinate
inside the womb of the good green Earth
feeling the warmth of a watchful Sun

Yet I pick up another,
a chronicle sans embellishments,
A tale every bit pure, every bit unspun
A familiar fear grips me -
clouds me, maims me, ****** me
as I open it with glum expectations

But I feel myself break,
to know of my absence from this tome,
with each page I anxiously turn
Did I not deserve
a chapter, a line, atleast a word?
Maybe I will find a footnote - none!

Mind:
Oh my dear heart,
Do not expect in return something better
because you've surrendered to her memories
Equivalence is just, but justice is not a quality

How do you plan to **** the one
whom you've already granted immortality?
At the price of a pun, get a paradox free.
Dee Nov 2018
I believe in utilitarianism
And stay living in a state of disguising glum for glee
I see it as my way of giving back
Because as long as they're happy
I can keep up the show
to be determined Aug 2018
how does one write
M-E-L-A-N-C-H-O-L-Y
without stopping to wash their hands?
mel·an·chol·y
noun

a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.
Donna Jan 2018
The big sky is grey
Tis a burst of dim light ray
O what a glum day
Looking forward to spring x
Nylee Oct 2017

Another star faded away
unseen in the skies
as did my cry
now the glum darkness
is there to replace
to give me empty solace.




Gariel Aug 2017
always crude to everyone
even a discomfort to herself
certain times is willing to help out
but cannot even fix herself

admits that everything is well
to not be a disturbance
certain times is willing to open up
but still feel glum

it doesn't feel right and normal
to prefer to be disregarded
mostly wishing to end everything
but stays for the people she love

it is ultimately true and real
that she ruins what she touches
mostly wishing to find a remedy
but strangely fine with her state

{k. l.}
hello im alive
Nylee Jun 2017
My pain writes many poems
some depressing, some solemn
some sarcastic , some genuine
some rhyming , some extreme
some weak, some contemplative
some glum , some reflective
some helpful , some heartless
some heartfelt ,some frivolous
some aloof , some imploring
some moody , some accepting
some flowed with endless tears
some marred with many fears
And I feel envy ,
my pain writes better poems than I
Joshua Dougan Dec 2016
Speak from the heart. The tip of the tongue.
Fly off the cuff, The hip of your gun.
Set scenes apart, a trip to the sun.
Getting High on the huff, the gifting of love.

Speak from the heart, easier said then done.
Treat it like art, Feeding the dread with glum.
Speak from the heart, easier said then done.
Freezing at start, leading the dead with guns.
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