#dismal
Grey clouds burst from leaden skies,
While puddles mirror my heavy eyes,
The thrumming droplets on window panes
Echo the throbbing of my aches and pains.
Lifeless streets shine, although grim and wet,
While every puddle swells with regret,
As wind blows through the scraggy bare trees,
Howling and wailing into the breeze.
I stand in shop doorways to keep dry
As rain continues to fall from the sky,
Like tears that stain the sullen ground,
And my hope dissipates without a sound.
I look around and I know
That it will be another dismal day.
©️Lizzie Bevis
Jan 8, 2025
Jan 8, 2025 at 2:56 AM UTC
There are a million ways,
A person you love,
Can break your heart.
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 2:36 AM UTC
the sky was gray
a dismal day
the water was still without you
my mind was astray
the rain made clay
there's just something about you
the stars have lost their shine
like marbles in the sky
the whole world seems lost
and i think that i know why
you left me on a sunny day
gone without a trace
now the world is filled with sorrow
everything is gray
Jan 17, 2020
Jan 17, 2020 at 11:20 AM UTC
The sun leans on the roof of Wanted workers
The money they make is built on the money in graves
Protest signs in dumpsters
Astrology signs in caves
The strings; they are pulling
The strong; they are ashamed
The weak; they are to blame
Baby doll has no name
I've been here once before and I'll never be again
I've said that once before. This time I'll hold my breath
It's certainly her body. Is it then her soul?
Is the fault that of the master? He must be in control
I'll tell her it's alright, but the truth is I don't know
Baby doll is not alone
Baby doll does not know
The sun bends past the roof
The money has been made
Protesters have been mistakes
New parking's being paved
Baby dolls don't have a face
They are personified
Baby dolls can not feel pain
The master forces hand
Baby doll's not in the plan
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 9:11 AM UTC
On Sundays the creatures
Ooze from their awkward dwellings,
Like fat worms after a downpour,
And rush the City.
They infect silently with their sick eyes,
They brush along your shoulder in passing,
They exchange ***** money,
They cause accidents.
They stare at you from across
Your favorite diners
With black coffee depression
And mutter underneath their breaths:
"This isn't real."
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
White, black, grey
polaroid
memories in colorless tone.
Shining white
white like your eyes
torrid and hanging
anguishing
white.
White grinning
gorging on fear
gripping
white.
White
foam forming at the corners of your mouth.
your hair shone white.
Grey as I looked up,
Black is what followed.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
A lost soul on her way
to a path full of dismay
When will she ever see
a path to be free?
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
I walk alone,
Turning aimlessly left and right,
Feeling the cold from the rain seep through to my dismal heart.
Hot tears stream down my grief stricken face,
Contorting in and out of melancholy shapes,
Allowing my pitiful sobs to seep out.
My chest is tight with my broken heart,
Burning with every shaky breathe taken,
Surprisingly resisting the urge to cave in all together.
The world is bland,
Every color seems to have faded to shades of black and grey,
Doleful rain falling aimlessly to the ground.
Cheerful people sing in the rain,
Dance through the streets,
Jump in the forming puddles.
But me?
I walk on,
Sensing the cold swishing of my feet in my soaking shoes,
Craving to be unnoticed and left with my dismal heart.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
I house thunder inside of these bones.
I contain lightning inside my heart.
I contain raindrops in my veins.
I am the storm.
But, do not worry dear plebeians, I do not strike on dark days of gray,
Only on dark days of pain.
I pour down on the suffering, to wash away all of their troubles.
And I'd rather have a lifetime of saving rain than a constantly-glowing sun.
Because the Sun is just too dim compared to the fire that burns inside of me.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 2:01 AM UTC
Rainy days make
your joints
And my heart
ache
Grisly greys, dampened dirt,
The scent of earth
Rich with grief and
consternation
I taste the mist and
Feel amiss, shivering in
Showers, a wilted
Flower,
Salty tears and fears
Masked by downpours
That drip and drown my
Burning humiliation
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC
Outside, below
I am teased so
Coldly, by a
Dark, dull and
Dismal morning.
Then I hear the
Kind click of the
Radiator ascending.
Hugging my feet.
Kissing my shins.
I’m not going to
do today. I refuse.
I can’t. For when I
Try, I feel nothing.
Nothing at all.
My tutor will have
to wait. And my friends
will have to wonder.
Only for a second, a
mere moment or two.
Somebody has crept
Up and into my room,
Inside of my heart
And taken what was
Once beating well.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
I taste like a daydream
but I have the devil in my kiss.
You're wrapped with infatuation,
I'm spreading poison just past your lips.
You can do your worst
there's no hurting me.
Get out all your anger
and then get on and leave.
I look like a fairy tail
but I have darkness surrounding my soul.
My intentions are only to love,
but there's no stopping this evil to unfold.
Keep your distance
for you're not dammed like I,
or do your worst
and beat me until I die.
A soul like mine isn't meant to love.
A soul like mine is far too corrupt.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
I am becoming at peace
with having no peace at all.
I am now comfortable with
the distortion, the pain, and the dismal.
I watch my friends gather
and laugh, joke, and play.
Part of me wishes that I
could be that way.
Their positive energy radiates
and latches on to me.
The time spent with them
takes me away and sets me free.
I put out only good vibes
and smile and hope they can't tell
that my time with them is
temporary until I escape this hell.
Yes,
I am becoming at peace
with having no peace at all,
only because this road is ending soon,
but I cherish all the good times that
have helped me stall.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
There will be many, who only make
You weak and feeling sore.
There will be those who only take,
And those You get Your heart torn for.
There will be them, who know too well,
What makes you the most dismal.
They will be pushing on those nerves,
You'll feel the scars in an instant.
Yet, there only will be few,
Who will make Your heart sing,
Who will make Your heart listen.
Who will make Your eyes sparkle,
Who will make Your eyes glisten.
To them- you must be true.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 3:32 AM UTC
It is in the midst of cruel December
That cynicism springs forth
Lush, verdant and fruitful.
As people sit
Firmly fastened in front of computers and televisions,
Their pale, two-dimensional illumination
A vicious imitation of the golden glow
Of which we have been deprived,
The trite uniqueness of each falling flake
Is regarded with the same appreciation
Held by a prisoner for the peculiarities of each bar of his cell
While mercantile endorsements
Perform their annual joyless Yuletide jig
Complete with sullenly cheery music.
Indifference plods with a purpose across the pavement
On feet uncomfortably shoved into boots
And sometimes wielding a shovel.
My own feet angrily railed against the bus-stop sidewalk
On this particular day.
I forfeited the ice-block bench on this occasion,
Preferring to crush my feet into the ground
Than to risk cryogenesis by the unfriendly seat.
I was waiting for the next vessel to drift in on a tide of noxious diesel
And take me home
So that I could put cables through my ears
And stare blankly into a vividly opaque window;
Fingers performing a well-choreographed dance
While I wrap myself in warm, gas-heated euthanasia.
As the bench reclined behind me,
She sat down upon it like a ghost.
Slight and spritish.
Silky black strands dance in brave escape
From their woolen armour
And guard green isles floating on white seas.
Where have I seen her?
This person so maddeningly, forgettably familiar?
A breath of persimmon and greenery.
She extends forth a creamy hand.
The snow eats the vibrant blood as it leaks from her wrist.
Seized by panic,
I leap from my station,
A lifesaving scarf in my hand.
Hers presses to my chest.
Her pale-sunrise lips move to my ear.
"Wait and see." She says.
"Read between the drear to find what you seek:
"That which you remember and yet have forgotten."
The vital stream returns to its tributary by a volition of its own.
Did I faint at this surreality?
Did I go into shock by it and return to my abode in an ****** ambulation?
Did it take place at all?
I awoke at home, seated in my parlour
And watered by the melted rime.
For weeks after,
I would, with expectation and intrigue,
Await her arrival at the same stop,
Search for the silky black strands playing in the crowd,
I even sought her in vain through my nocturnal oneiric haze.
Indeed, she must have been a spectre,
Either of our world or that of my brain.
Nevertheless, this I know is true:
I did feel her gentle hand against my panicked heart
And her delicate voice still echoes in my ears.
It is Spring now, and still my memory of her persists
As does my recollection what she had to tell me.
Her whisper is in the snow-melt water
And her eyes cry joyful tears from icicles.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
Waking up to hazy mornings.
To the bitter cold days of
Early Spring.
I've never seen such a beautiful sunrise.
Nine o' clock cigarettes during
The morning rush.
Saturday morning cigarettes
That muddle my head.
The chilly air mimics the smoke
Spewing from my lips,
Toxins sticking to my lungs
Like glue.
It's another day in Paradise.
The dishes in the sink
Pile up in mountains.
Like the skyscraper laundry stack
Overflowing in the hamper.
Just another day in Paradise.
The street lamps glisten as strings of pearls
Their light reflecting off the silver glare of traffic barrels.
The flowers have not arrived.
The flowers have not bloomed,
And the anxiety is killing me.
Killing me like the coffee craving
Pounding in my head.
The flowers are missing,
Hiding from the stinging cold
Of early Spring.
I've never seen such beautifully dismal skies.
In the mild conversations about the weather,
I tell them that it's never been better.
In a way, it's never been.
I walk down the battleground of sidewalk
And tree roots, the slabs of concrete
cracked and marred by Mother Nature's
Will.
Broken etchings of hopscotch
Blur on the gritty surface, besides
The rose bush peeking out through the
Fence.
They'll never fix these.
Because it's another day in Paradise.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
Above and beyond the clouds of my endless sky,
I found a "small challenge" to finding my sweet,
She'd gone away to College and found a cute guy,
This is the reason each day I do not happily greet.
My joy is an illusion, I hide myself from the pain,
I beat this image out of my mind again and again and
Again. But still it returns-her and him-hell I've not even
Seen his face but I can imagine mine like a dismal disgrace.
I confess to the world I am a failure at best,
I had your hand, your heart but failed your test,
And now I am put back in my box to rust and to rot,
To be happy at the bottom is worse than sad at the top.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
Unexpectedly
You caught my attention.
And slowly
You captured my whole entity.
My confused mind and heart ask
How could mere and simple admiration,
Make me mindlessly promise you eternity?
Your entire self draws me, attracts me
Entices me, binds me wholly
Trapping me into a world
I find truly in disarray yet undeniably impeccable.
Needy, languid
My shaking voice cries out to you vociferously.
I am completely yours but you will never be mine
Utterly impossible.
Affection, undivided attention
Things that I vehemently desire for.
Your eyes are like shooting stars
And I am waiting for it to befall on me.
In this loathed reality
I know none can be asked of more
Perhaps, my hopeful heart’s wish
Will forever remain in my dismal fantasy.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC