"crestfallen" poems
*Let me be captured by the night.
Engrossed in the conversation
between the stars.
Syncopated twinkling like...
thousands of fireflies
trapped within sealed jars.
Let me be enslaved by the moon.
As I drink her glow in
greedy insatiable gulps.
Crestfallen...
Her beam with an agenda...
As the landscape she sculpts.
Let me be ensnared by my solitude.
But I hear crickets...
Chirping and chipping away at my
bastion of dreamstate.
Persistent calls
I try to shun
that never abates.
Let me be trapped in my thoughts.
So I could harness...
And immortalise them in
indelible careless scribbles.
Erecting and...
Rebuilding them from the
rubble of conflicting squabbles.
**Let me be overwhelmed
by the mess of my being...**
Let me wallow
Then emerge strong from this
decrepit state of mind.
Let me breathe heavy from my
punctured lungs.
So I could heal in time before
true solace
in this dark,
I would find.*
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
~
**Wandering witches, wave your wands,
lose your limbs of earthly bonds.
Friday the 13th full moon sings
so flex your power and stretch your wings.
Wandering witches, weave your words
to be the bane of beasts and birds.
Hex the hateful with potions of love
Poke the prideful in crestfallen thereof
Sing sisters sing, into the full moon night
never knowing the demon's blight.
Fearful farce and fallen stones
bury the bad in blood and bones.**
~
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 9:42 AM UTC
Monday.
First day of the week.
He was absent. Was he sick?
I took a glance at the empty chair.
How I wish he was sitting there.
I hope tomorrow I’ll get the chance to see him.
Cause a day is not a day without him.
Tuesday.
I came at school early,
Wanting to see him badly.
There was a sad smile coated on my face,
When I didn't see him at his usual place.
His chair was still empty.
What happened to him?
I have no idea.
I have no clue.
All I knew, I was feeling blue.
I tried to brush my thoughts away,
And just listened at the class all day.
I thought I’m okay,
That I was feeling fine.
But when I saw his chair empty,
I knew my smile was not happy.
Wednesday.
Crestfallen and disappointed.
He was still not here.
I could feel the emptiness in my mind.
Just like the empty chair in my behind.
I asked my classmates,
They just shrugged their shoulders.
I asked his friends, they don’t know why.
Soon my dark eyes began to cry.
Thursday.
Too many question popped in my head.
Frustrated and confused,
I committed a major offense.
I fled from school during recess.
I want to see him today,
To know the reason of that young man,
Why for four days he was gone.
There was no one in their house.
Only their old maid.
“Where could I find him?” I asked her.
She gave me a piece of paper.
I went home with a heavy heart.
It felt like my world was drifted apart.
I looked at the paper once again,
Tears fell down while reading them.
I don’t how to endure this kind of ache,
I kept on telling it was just a mistake.
FRIDAY.
Fresh flowers I brought,
I put them on the ground.
I smiled bitterly,
As I read his name in the tomb.
“I love you.” I whispered.
I didn't hear anything in return.
“I love you!” I shouted.
Hoping he’ll answer me at ease.
But all I heard was the sound of the trees.
I cried again..
How many tears should I cry,
For him to come back?
For him to be with me again?
To feel his warmth.
To smell his scent.
To stare at his eyes.
It was too late.
Too late…
Saturday.
I wept until I could no longer feel the pain.
Sunday.
I did what I've done yesterday.
Monday..
I come to school.
Act as if nothing happen,
They asked me if I’m fine,
I nodded and smiled.
While walking into our room,
Wearing fake mask behind my gloom.
But tears fell again on my face,
When I didn't see him at his usual place.
I glance at the empty chair,
How I wish he was sitting there.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
Her lover's gone
his souls departed
her devastation fills the air.
Lost in an abyss of time
forsaking all
she walks alone
raking thoughts In her head.
Their souls where entwined
to be forever enbind,
now dreams are shattered
fragments scattered
she gazes in despair.
Unfamiliar scenes close all around her,
crestfallen
her soul goes dormant,
the pains two deep
cuts into each heartbeat.
As day light starts to fade
she suspends herself
in the night air
longing to go to the other land,
ready to take her lovers hand.
She doesn't care to breathe
nor does she weep
as she slips into her
forever
sleep.
(SW)
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
Romeo, gosh, I'm sorry how things turned out,
and sorry I didn't die after all like you thought.
I'm old now, you wouldn't look twice at me
but I miss you still, even so, most definitely.
You could find me tonight across from a cornfield
working the St. Lucy's Fall Festival and how would you feel
about that, babe? I wear a lumpy old overcoat
and sell tickets to teenagers so in love they almost float.
I get feeling sentimental and sad about everything
remembering how you said you were the All-Powerful Weather King
and could make the sun come out if I wished it,
or kiss me and kiss me again if I told you I missed it.
My goodness, Romeo, you don't know how often I still think of you,
like when I saw some crestfallen kid with wild hair walking through
the festival like he had something on his mind
and he seemed lonesome, like you, and quiet and kind.
It's almost midnight and the lights are going dim
so I've got to pack up and go home alone again.
I wish so hard that things had turned out different
and I'd say, "Romeo, oh Romeo," and you'd know what I meant.
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 5:29 PM UTC
Death called your name, you said
Not from the periphery
But right here
Right now
And it requires bloodshed
Eyes glazing over
The tracks before you
Dreaming of being
Splayed
For the length of a mile
I laugh nervously
When you tell me
Because it was me
Your son
Who handed you the phone
“For death, press 1”
You’re at the crossing now
From the pedal
Your foot lifts
The train’s horn
Bellowing
As into its path
You drift
The brakeman screams
As your body disjoints
Your shame for me reduced
To scarlet exclamation points
A nearby sparrow
Witnesses the scene
“Sad”, she thinks
Hatchlings cozy
Underneath her wing
It’s a bit cruel
To pile your ****
On my shoulders
As if I were a mule
And it’s a bit wicked
To claim my
Unchangeable
Existence
As sin committed
The enigma of stigma
Is yours to explore
I slide you a key
I’ll be right here
On the other side of the door
A mouse creeps
Across the threshold
Seeing both sides
“Too bad”, he thinks
As he scurries by
You named me Christopher
After a boy killed
By a train
And now you say I’m to blame
Like an unfortunate stain
On the hem
Of our family’s pain
The truth is
I couldn’t keep living a lie
And I’m sorry, dad
I’m the reason you want to die
Sep 3, 2022
Sep 3, 2022 at 8:23 PM UTC
your eyes don't glisten like they used to
just saying it's not something usual for you
*so I guess you're heavily imbued
with this crestfallen attitude?*
yea I know,
I've changed in the same way
my own little reverse-breakthrough
Risque foreplay with ultramarine Bombay
before stepping in to emcee the Devil's soiree
And no, you really don't --and honestly never did-- know me;
you only knew one of many façades I brazed
on my face
in the midst of a cliche
New Year's day typa haze
During the phase of
my infamously tempestuous craze
I was precipitously *(ignited
quite possibly by my own
flaring sparks)*
set ablaze with praise
but my mores seem to be misplaced
probably somewhere in the frenzy and hysteria
So I guess I'm left to embrace my untraced boundaries
*And get my viridian eyes back to glistening
on their own viridescent terms
Not codependent on the hollowed adulation
and sweet-talk from bamboccioni*
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
May the words of my mouth
and the meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight, LORD,
my Rock and my Redeemer.
Good Morning Beloved
It is good to be among you this morning.
Let us pray….
Gracious Lord
As we sojourn the pathways of life
You have brought us to the places
Of ecstatic splendorous peaks
You have blessed us with resounding joys
You have filled us with good things
The grace of your unconditional love
Is made manifest in the abundant life
you have promised to all your children
We bless you Lord for your provision
And your unfailing unrequited love
You have also humbled us Lord
With times of perplexing trial,
deep sorrows and pointed loss
Our earthly journey
has led us to places
of dread, devastation
sickness and pending death
Our plans and aspirations
Have turned to dust
Our eyes fill with tears
Our crestfallen hearts
have hardened
We fail to receive the
balm of love
We have been routed
We have lost the battle
We have been conquered
by separation, sin and despair
The spirit of life
Has evaporated
From our bodies
All that remains
Are dry bones
Scattered in the
valley of death
hidden by the shadows
In the nadir of our lives
Yet your abiding love
remains the
strong Present Helper
calling us to your light
May we rise from our
Afflictions as Lazarus
did when called by his
beloved friend Jesus
May your grace anoint
Our ears with the sound of
The Great Resurrectors voice
May you stir our hearts
With the wisdom of your will
May you bless our lips
With the grace of prophecy
That we may
Prophesy to the broken
And brittle bones of our lives
Prophecy to the bones
so they may be joined
With sinew and flesh again
May your words
Become flesh
May we walk again
In the land of the living
And rejoin the beloved
At the table of
Your abundant grace
In The Good Deliver's Name
We pray...
Selah
Music:
Eric Dolphy, Come Sunday
Readings,
Ezekiel 37 The Valley of Dry Bones,
John 11, The Death of Lazarus
Prayer of the Dry Bones
Faith Lutheran Church
Lavallette NJ
4th Sunday in Lent
4/2/17
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
To be imbued with the conviction that empathic listening is a panacea,
by the surreptitious, murmurous harbinger and his mellifluous words,
provoked brooding that my comprehension of his susurrous eloquence was a mondegreen,
when this scintilla of sagacity left a fetching ingenue crestfallen.
By the surreptitious, murmurous harbinger and his mellifluous words!
I adopted a propinquity to this furtive, ephemeral epiphany,
but when this scintilla of sagacity left a fetching ingenue crestfallen,
I discerned this lagniappe beleaguered our dalliance.
I adopted a propinquity to this furtive, ephemeral epiphany.
When she became inured to petrichor I knew my method pyrrhic,
and when I discerned that this lagniappe beleaguered our dalliance,
I vowed to rectify the imbroglio for my quintessential cynosure.
When she became inured to petrichor I knew my method pyrrhic,
and I ruminated that her insouciance was only forbearance.
I vowed to rectify my quintessential cynosure of the imbroglio,
and fabricated a denouement to return her to halcyon incipient.
I ruminated that her insouciance was only forbearance,
until hearing her state our conflation made each a moiety of our own panoply.
She fabricated a denouement to return us to the incipience of halcyon
with ineffable felicity, and I remembered with ebullience my inamorata's words.
Hearing her state our conflation made each a moiety of our own panoply
provoked brooding that my comprehension of her susurrous eloquence was a mondegreen.
With ineffable felicity I found ebullience in my inamorata's words
and was imbued with the conviction that empathic listening is a panacea.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 4:58 AM UTC
Her syllogisms repose trust in her adept beleaguering of unworthy opponents.
Constantly in a state of lassitude for this desultory, inure world of the insouciant youth which dwells upon it's cathartic terrain, she engages not in lachrymose nor is she crestfallen for the hope of romance and it's everlasting ineffability.
She is a fugacious moment of frisson embodied in a human form; a juxtaposition of the serendipitous moments that ever constantly come one after the other in a fickle wheel of steep highs and deep lows. All her life, this girl will lilt through the crossroads of her obstacles and show the world the efflorescence of her beauty. Hush don't speak lest you miss hearing the mellifluous music of her voice of fail to hear the lagniappe that is her name.
She is the cynosure of human attention, the goddess and we are but her humble servants. She is innocence most rare, love most coveted. She is infinite. She is peace.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
When my mom was dying
We put a bed in the living room
Fresh from the hospital
In front of the piano
Behind the rocking chair
We still called it the "living room"
I didn't mention the cruel irony in that
And the living people
Who knew my mother
All came and sat around her
And we weren't allowed to touch her
Cause the morphine lost its memory
And every bit of her was falling down
Dozing in a straw house
When the weather man called for hurricanes
She was right there
But miles away from rescue efforts
And hand-holding daughters
Marilyn Monroe went the same way
In bed, I mean
Facedown
Her pill supply run out
And I imagine her room was a beautiful mess
Full of roses and tokens from insincere men
An icon deserves better than that
A pin up with no one
But ex-lovers and sheets to hold her
And a pillow stained with last lipstick kisses
All those little white beads of forgetfulness
Crawling on the floor
And happy birthday Mr. President
Billy woke up bawling the other night
In bed with a girl
Who was not my sister
And he called and told her he loved her still
She hugged my dog and cried into her fur
She finished the roll
Of toilet paper blowing her nose
There were three of us in bed that night
And two somewhere else
Continents, nations, states apart
The air in my room was like asphalt
And allergies weighing us down
Lulu barked at our crestfallen hearts
Under the supermoon
I turned into a twentysomethingwolf
Keen senses acute defenses
And all I could smell on my sheets
Was the kitchen I work in
I wanted to be human
Taste the fear and perfection
Of being a ******
In bed with a boy who is not family
A teenager whispering under sheets again
I stayed at home alone
Soothing, sighing, and howling sweet nothings
To my lonely bed
Telling mom and Marilyn Monroe
The fever dreams in my lone wolf head
Praying "please God, send us someone"
"Please God, let love burn us quick and strong"
"Please God, don't draw the blues out. We all buckle."
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
Fabric of fate, woven emotions, of which life is sewn.
My morning was Ivory satin
smooth and pure and bright
Birthday buzz and laughter
Bubbling thoughts of you
Noon was green velvet
Natural and warm and soft
Everything seemed to be right
And I couldn't wait to talk to you again
But the afternoon was black leather
When you texted me hi
Just to say goodbye
And the evening was ebony nylon
Flimsy, dark and easily torn
I tried to hide my crestfallen disappointment
But family is family
And they will be jerks
But no matter if you are immediate family
Or not
They can be your red wool
To keep you warm and away from harm
even when you are hurting silently
I shifted to a guarded charcoal chiffon
And he told me the way only a family member could tell
I know something's wrong
I promised I was fine even though I was becoming
Silver lace, fragile and tearing at the seams
He never spoke of it again
But for the rest of the night
He protected me from anymore damage
A tough sort of defensiveness
That meant everything to me
And for an evening, he was cashmere
Because I was touched that he could and would show me such strong family love
Without saying anything to me at all
Repost if a family member, immediate or not has done something kind for you to make them cashmere
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry! Especially long ones.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:41 AM UTC
Tokyo adorned with a jewel named spring
Beauty and Fragrance is what thou bring
Sakura blossoms covering the trees
Falling on me with the soft breeze
Wearing a kimono under the Sakura rains
Peace and love flowing through my veins
A pink carpet created under my feet
Sakura lovers are approaching to meet
Opened palm waiting for a gift
Holding a blossom which fell on so swift
Lying on the carpet watching the radiant sun
It’s thy happiness, the Hanami fun
Viridescent leaves are nowhere to be seen
Rosie colors are being so keen
Chasing the Sakura aroma I love
Is now falling on me from above
Sakura, Thou made my crestfallen heart gone
I wish to live in your scent spreading zone
Spring, I fecund you through the whole year
To be in the Sakura woods without a fear
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 8:51 AM UTC
the moon in my city,
a hazy crestfallen hue,
those who gaze up to
its beauty, remain few...
the moon in my city,
betrays a tired air,
wrinkled stench in
reflection, oh despair!
the moon in my city,
glides the benign sky,
paddles a silver paddle,
bemoaning why, why, why!
the moon is my city,
but has a mother's heart,
it forgives oh so easily,
so gently does it part,
for at the break of dawn,
or on a pensive twilight,
look, there is the moon,
in eternal evasive flight!
the moon in my city,
the moon in my city...
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
The date was April 3, 2000.
A cool zephyr blew and
I forgot every morning blue,
Right when I saw the angel,
She was so beautiful,
As if a princess, or a fairy,
I was 9 at that time.
She had come down from the hills,
From the Himachali town of Solan,
And she had just come to our school.
I looked at her, and I was dumbstruck.
Her sideways glance,
It was so fascinating,
As if a fairy came down,
From the mountains, I mean,
I can never forget her,
Neither her name,
Nor her harmonious voice.
She became the class monitor,
And I intentionally made a noise,
To get her often talking to me,
Oh I remember everything clearly,
"Atul–Keep quiet!" she'd shout,
And I'd laugh silently, but laugh anyway,
And her nostrils would flare red.
In 2001, I drowned in the infatuation,
Deeper than the Mariana Trench,
Sitting on my school bench.
In 2002, her father expired,
And she was traumatised,
Seeing her sad, I was shocked too,
And she stopped talking to us,
But she always scored well,
Yes, she did score nicely,
And I was inspired.
In 2003, I changed schools,
But in 2005, I met her again,
She gave me her number,
I often used to call her,
Not once did she,
Because she didn't have my number,
Not that her caller ID didn't show it,
But our EPABX number always varied.
In 2007, I confessed to her on a call,
I told her, "I have always loved you,"
And she scolded me without waiting,
"Atul! I never expected this from you."
She continued, "Never call me again!"
I was crestfallen, disappointed, and sad.
I'd have sung my original song had she accepted.
That song I composed for her,
Had come out of my heart.
It was a lyric of my desperation.
And a tune of my romance.
It was a hope of my loneliness.
And a promise of my love.
But she rejected my proposal.
I never called her again, out of respect.
Anyway, I credit her for making me a poet.
I credit her for making me a singer & artist.
But I still love her so deeply, and
So truly that I look for her everywhere,
In every prospective match,
In every passing batch.
These days she's in Chandigarh.
Sep 24, 2024
Sep 24, 2024 at 8:33 AM UTC
{•}
unwanted love
we, the human counting crows, tracking everything, steps, bank balances, heartbeats & especially,
those dastardly calories that need burning
pre yoga, her morning banana,
she takes but a half, and looks to unload the balance on a sucker/victim in the vicinity because a whole
is greater than a half,
and God knows a whole could make you fatter!
fully prepared for her desperate supplication, reply so quick,
"you're forcing me to eat unwanted calories,"
she crestfallen,
near to weeping from guilty feelings,
a crime so heinous!
but more than ready, added words, prepared years ago:
*but to save your life gladly give you any body part,
step in front of a vehicle, for a certain somebody,
you may know, to preserve, life and liberty,
put up with your inanities, border-lining on insanities,*
answer your questions before you think of them,
*and will restrict my singing to sole showers in the basement
but never will I eat for two, that so undesirable,
in the name of love*
to which she came to my bedside, kissed my nose, whispering,
"thank you for my life saving,"
while stuffing my mouth with said weapon,
"thank you again,
please don't make this into a poem"*
somedays you just ain't gonna win,
you see she loves me too well
and knows
my answers before I do...
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
I should have known better, I should have known more.
I should have listened to an old friend before.
He told me things I thought was lies.
Because of this I ended in demise.
I should have known better, I should have known more.
I should have noticed that you can’t look at me in the eye before.
I told my peers that you’re kind and benign.
Who knows that at this day you’ll draw the line.
But its fine, I’m not that disturb.
Of the crestfallen things that I’ve heard.
Still I’m fine, I’m just alright.
Doing things that I seem right.
I’m surprise about your vibrant sinister smiles,
Never thought that it’s just covered with cheap bright dyes.
The weightless words coming from your mouth was all lies.
I should have known better, I should have known more.
I should have never trusted you before.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 7:02 AM UTC
Will you stand with me at the water's edge?
As my beats quicken and intensify
Likened to the pounding of war drums
Fuelling the skirmishes within
As my lungs remain obstinate and insatiable
Voraciously consuming every breath till they overlap...
As if the abundant air wasn't enough
As my mind races out in a million different directions
Crestfallen thoughts layered upon angry ideals
Violated principles versus tattered resolutions
Will you stand with me at the water's edge?
And watch me as I choose between
extinguishing the raging fire
that burns in my heart and mind
Or drown.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
Feeling like aged bottles of wine. Tarty, tangy, ale and rye. Backwashed at the bottom, bared half inch of DNA collecting bacterium by the decade. Each floating strand archetypal on it’s own. Like separatist fans of gold, separatist fans of chrome. Extricate model minerals alter and contrast on their own. Earth maintenance, sustenance, nourishment and remotely beyond consternation.
A lacking ruinith; she know not currency.
A value made thus child; when met bereavement, ruthless and reaved.
Long gone; alas final crestfallen gives.
Impetus formith she grooves; in smirched tarnish banks we shall live.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 12:50 AM UTC
A silhouette leaned back
Grey smoke distorted features demure;
Swirls riddled—smooth jazz syncopation
Her rouge lips cut through
The darkness.
She took a long drag on her
Cigarette, smoke rings evaporated
A halo around her.
Midnight blue eyes surveyed
The Bijou Café
Carpet pooled on the floor,
Blood soaked with wine,
Enclosed by onyx sheets,
The far wall a mirror.
A reflection of the souled and soulless.
Bar welcome strangers, friends,
The lonely.
Sharing drinks and memories
Vines intertwined customers
A perchance meeting;
Rendezvous of sorts.
Nameless faces and acquaintances
Dotted the room, a familiar skyline.
Lonely tower missing.
Smooth black fedora
Hearts sank ships as
Waves of embarrassment
Enveloped her; disappointment.
Crestfallen her eyes downtrodden
Soared with a door creak.
Black fedora entered,
Smooth—slick as oil
Eyes were hidden beneath
A veil of night;
Silence became him.
Hush fell on the crowd
As the shadow took the stage
Light pierced through,
Illuminating him.
Orbs locked
Reservation started to pass,
Voice velvet smooth
Played every heartstring
Notes of excitement
Tantalized her veins,
Pulse quickened;
Echoing every tempo change.
Music coursed through her being
Sensual; seductive
Notes caressed curves, valleys
Spaces in between.
Emotion—chord dependent
Voice penetrated skin
Music flowed through her.
A mountain peek high
Mind clouded—
Breath escaped her lungs.
Quiet murmur answered her comedown
An empty stage; stalwart eyes
Fingers replaced music
Lips brushed hers; taste—electric
Smile turned smirk; hollow presence
Musky cologne in wake.
Magnetic pull forward
Fedora exited
Midnight eyes transformed to dawn;
Abandoned beneath the awning
Familiar skyline flowed liquid.
Bijou Café
Neon sign loomed dark
Save for a letter
I illuminated.
Heart tendrils retreated,
Back to roots; betrayed
Tears turned to water
Liquid guilt—love died.
Fingers loosed
Memory;
Small matchbook of shame
Lingering of once upon a time
In the gutter; pouring rain.
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
the weight of your breaths is burning its way inside my skin. this is a catastrophe we're in now, darling, and i resemble all of your crestfallen asters, dried and dusty in your altar — now caught in a forest fire. this is a catastrophe we're in now but heathens like me don't burn down, and i have loved you with such fatality i didn't once possess. i have loved you like stray dust in lilac vapors. i have loved you, like stray wind in a firestorm.
this is the calm we're in now darling — and i have loved you to the point of no return.
Nov 27, 2021
Nov 27, 2021 at 11:38 PM UTC
night has befallen your eyes agleam,
iris casting shadows on those unseen -
falling, falling deep; darling, dearest
my gaze will catch you from the darkest pits - you
crestfallen, asleep - weaping on the tower's peak.
© fey (27/05/22)
May 27, 2022
May 27, 2022 at 5:54 AM UTC
He is everything to me
and he could not see
I have given my all
Yet he still wants more
Nothing's left of me
Feels like a sad record
slowly spinning
to death
while he hums my crestfallen melody
SILENCE
/ he has fallen asleep /
And I
entering
a
void
of
melancholy
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC