#brooding
Lost in cloudy thoughts of sleet
as foggy tendrils swirl ‘round my mind,
I took a walk through stony streets
in hopes that sunlight I’d find.
The mindscape groaned as rolling storms
marched grumbling across my inner plains
releasing grey drops of thoughts all torn
from past faults I thought of again.
While stuck in this cauldron of tempests within
I sensed others who walk by my side,
the sound of their footfalls’ quiet din
to pull me out of my darkened tide.
My eyes peeled open to see a stream,
a mass of people who walk on:
They, like me, are stuck in a dream
of sullen skies that they each prolong.
With eyes wide open, I stopped to watch
and saw how I had not been alone.
The weather clears by just a notch
and a sunbeam of silence now shone.
Oct 15, 2024
Oct 15, 2024 at 9:15 AM UTC
Now he hangs, silently brooding/
by his leather strap/
on a nail, against muddy wall/
gone to rust/
The silence, deafening/
swings no longer in ecstatic delight/
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 3:37 AM UTC
Behind the lies and painted smiles
Lies wounds that cannot heal
The tormented ache of a forgotten world
And a heart that can no longer feel
The outward laugh, a forgotten touch
Defy the darkness inside
The horror of a mind debauched and lost
In a pool of tears, uncried
A quick embrace and wanten love
Beleaguered by apathy and grime
A soulless mess, a repulsive truth.
Evil lingering in an languid mind
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 5:39 AM UTC
He is a soul who doesn't know the world,
Yet sees with his own two eyes its rules,
While his body is by his sadness curled,
Counting his tears, who look like dewy jewels.
The crazy wind goes through his glossy hair,
And its sword does almost strike his pale throat,
He's in a twisted state beyond compare,
In his shaking hands the fine poems he wrote.
Viewing the Mystic's path, sometimes the frame
Of life appears, yet all it secrets are
Still far away from him, he knows each name
Of saint and poet, but still is far, too far.
Will the meaning of his life come true?
That brooding poet, he sometimes has a clue.
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 10:47 PM UTC
I get tangled in the brooding nets of my mind
And drown
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 5:58 AM UTC
Just let me sit neath the wild blue yonder
Brooding like coffee on a quiet thought
With eyes full of horizons
I’m found in the lost
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
A stolen fragment
Of me turns into
A whisper.
Black, envious, engulfing;
My texture too watery,
So I turn into mist.
Entwined by the moon,
a charming shadow
Soft to the touch.
The sorrow in me
Melts quickly
Into the dark.
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 11:20 PM UTC
I wish the abyss would stop looking back at me.
I look in the mirror and I swear that's all I see.
Not a monster but a void I cant escape.
I was born with a heart but it seems mishaped.
Someday I swear I'm going to leave this place.
Find my way to the light that people praise.
But for now I think it's better if I hang my head.
Bite my tongue and drink until I just forget.
I don't know how my story will end,
But I'm starting to think I can rip out some pages.
Skip the middle and get right to the very end.
Where you lay me six feet deep and reminisce on the things I said.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 2:51 AM UTC
I found a pretty apple tree and dug myself a grave,
In it I've left my body, words and a sad mind,
All those things in life to whom I were a slave,
All will in the end be gladly left behind.
On every face I see, the same old tired smile,
That always hides a riddle, a story or a myth,
Always full of secrets, always full of lies,
That turn around the smoke o'er the fire pits.
Through rainy eyes I see the dawning of the day,
I admire sun in its morning glory,
I feel its healing beams carrying me away,
And the final darkness- the end of my story.
I picked a snow white flower, and saw in it my death,
In every petal written the end to my pain,
I've crossed this cursed field the path to my last breath,
My soul thus has left me in the light of day.
I found a pretty apple tree and dug myself a grave.
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
The woods ring out
For the songs
Echoing around
Of #unabashed song birds
That throat their love
Brooding of vast uncertainty
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 6:44 AM UTC
Trying to remember the
World doesn't owe me
Done searching through songs for words
Sick of do re mi's
So why's it hard tuning out
All the misery
Hate admitting pride is the
Reason I'm lonely
Scared of hurting and ending
Up down on my knees
Begging for a seventh chance
Life isn't easy
At least I have this poem
To keep company
While I puzzle pieces out
Of my history...
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
I've seen myself in the mirror
And it looks the same as always
But the feeling deep down under
Shows that the real me is far away
I've lived in the same skin forever
And it feels the same as always
But the look of it asunder
Shows that the real me is far away
I've breathed in the same way as always
And it's always been suffocating
But to outsiders it seems normal
Nothing but brooding too long on twilight
But in my soul I feel untamed
And in my skin I feel maimed
In my breath I feel strangled
My everything yearning for freedom
Freedom from this, far away from this
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
The boy was too brooding.
I think he did it to impress me
and to make me think he was mysterious
but all it did was leave me empty.
The boy was too handsome.
He was the type of guy who could roll
right out of bed and look perfectly perfect
and it infuriated me.
The boy was too athletic.
His muscles never failed to show
themselves from underneath his tops
and it made me self-conscious.
The boy was too quiet.
He wanted to prove that he'd listen to
what I had to say so he'd stare right at me silently
with eyes that pierced my soul like a knife.
At first glance, he was flawless.
He had the qualities I always thought I wanted:
Mysterious, Perfect, Muscles, Listening Skills.
Really, I just wanted someone like the actors on TV.
But that's just what they are: actors.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
Alone it sits there,
intensely brooding
on how this evening
would turn out to be;
an elegant, gleaming
thirsting, ****** wine glass
without a drop of wine.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 11:20 AM UTC
as one stage empties
slow shuffle exit
another curtain will
rise
waiting for that spark
an instant in time
silent explosion
within
stylus on rock face
outline of past forms
a mountain's sudden
call
as eagle marks
still moments
above a darkened
gorge
brooding dawn
fights clouds'
urgent
cries
and man's spirit
lifts high and
at last
flies
free
- - - - - -
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
"What do you do with your time?"
"How do you spend your days?"
"What have you done with your life?"
I'm a writer, so really, what do you expect from me?
I've spend my days brooding and type type typing away.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
Falling, falling
Am I running to fast?
I could fall
I hope I don't
I fell already but since I fell
I started running.
Running running,
Am I running alright?
Burning, burning
Did I turn the candle on too quickly?
Or did I turn it on at the right time?
Will the wax melt down rapidly
Or will it last?
I really want this candle to last
I like its smell and its light.
I usually do stupid things,
Falling,
Burning,
I don't want to make the same mistakes
Not again.
I like running, I like this way of running.
And turning candles on
Isn't exactly my favorite thing to do
But I did turn this one on, I like it.
I'm just scared to fall, or burn myself by turning the candle on.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
Gaze into the mirror
at the face behind the mask
and wonder if it's really you,
or don’t you dare to ask?
Who can know what lies beyond
the mirrors fragile face,
reflections of another life;
another time or place?
Touch the chill upon the glass
and see a tiny ripple,
was it real or in your mind,
did it really feel so supple?
Gaze into empty eyes
and fall into the depths
of a soul once so full of life,
so youthful and adept.
Look to see what lies beneath,
to feel the piercing pain
of a cold, tired and tortured mind,
so old and now so stained.
Seek the truth, as only one
who dares, could ever see,
touch the glass with hard resolve,
do you want to set it free?
As tears return to trace the tracks
they've travelled so many days.,
to feel a cold and empty heart
as it fades into the haze.
Wrap yourself in a lovers embrace
as it slowly disappears,
until finally you understand
where you've been for all these years
.
A cry escapes from silent lips
as knowledge flows like sand,
your former self now fades from view,
beseeching, held out hands.
As you gaze into the trembling glass,
your thoughts so far away,
who is really watching who
and who can really say.
Written by Darren Scanlon, 12th May 2014.
Revised 17th September 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
http://www.darrenscanlon.wordpress.com
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
He remembers auburn hair
like the color
flickering before him
along Hwy 261.
Thoughts of yesterday
fill his mind
on this journey.
Roan Mountain fades
as he steadies the wheel
beside the constant stream
of white hyphens
on the blacktop.
Flashes of her
blend into the mountains.
He dwells on her
and their daughter
who now flaunts ringlets
bright as the autumn patches
among the forest display.
While he’s driving
the rear view mirror
reflects
his creased forehead
like his mother grew
from her many worries.
Travel grants him time
to think of them.
“Mistakes were made.”
A cop-out rests in that thought:
he made mistakes.
He broods
when he’s in the driver’s seat.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Throw my hood up
get the **** away from me
No don't wanna talk about what's wrong
(Is it going to be okay)
Slam the door to let them know
How upset I am and now
Its off its hinge
and I'm off to binge
that will show them
give the finger
from the back of 911
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC