"disconsolate" poems
*
*In the terrain of a barren forest
In the forlorn of a lost ship
In the godforsaken-ness of fate
In the inhospitality of people
Either sides of the dunes
There walks Majnun, in rugged clothes
There sings Meera, in wedded bliss
Both - immersed in the dreams of LOVEz
Both delicate, both innocent
Both pure, both true
Both fresh - like budding blooms
Both living in harmony with Nature
Waiting for Krishna's and Layla's arrival
Knowing their BELOVEDz will come
Both - still intoxicated in LOVE
Half closed, drowsy eyes,
Blurred vision, drunkard steps
They walk, dance, sing and fall
Awaiting their LOVERz call
Don't show complete callousness
Do not wake these LOVERz at all
From their disconsolate state of being
Let a dust-storm or lash of rain
Shake their heart and being
As if Krishna and Layla
Have shaken their soul awake
Startled at the LOVER'z touch
Meera and Majnun look around,
Astonished & glancing everywhere
Searching to find their LOVERz
"Where is Krishna? Where is Layla?"
They run wild - deliriously mad
Until they find a mirage & a silhouette
In the blank space of air around them
There they rest - sit and talk
They laugh and chat in LOVE
Only we realize and know that
There is no one around them
Yet only they can see their LOVERz
Only they can feel their BELOVEDz
To play a colorful game of LOVE
Let Krishna give Meera a kiss
Let Meera twirl one more round
Let Layla peck Majnun cheeks
Let Majnun sing one more new ballad
Thus till date they are remembered
As tragedy folk-lore's LOVE
Our tragic LOVERz-BELOVEDz
Our Meera-Majnun
All these happens on
Either sides of the dunes*
*
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
To outer senses there is peace,
A dreamy peace on either hand
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.
Save for a cry that echoes shrill
From some lone bird disconsolate;
A corncrake calling to its mate;
The answer from the misty hill.
And suddenly the moon withdraws
Her sickle from the lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.
4.6k
No one listens
Friends seldom seen
'I'm all right'
Cancelled conversations
Happiness on demand
Courses in tautology
Reverent respectability
Chimes lost to time
Disconsolate coverlets
Scenes from lonely places
Litter on the streets
You're on your own.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
Sometimes we fall
We break,
We move on,
Or we stay because we are afraid,
We shatter the only thing we’ve ever known,
And it could be a because of a complication,
unfortunate events,
Or one simple thing.
Something like the truth
Mine was that you’d never love me
We won’t work
It’s not gonna happen
And for so long I struggled to swallow those words
I went back and forth from loving you directly
Then too loving you from a distance
For four years I have loved you
And this is my goodbye
Here it goes :
You once told me the way you get through life is too hold your head down and keep pushing through the problem until eventually you don’t feel anything. But I’m not going to do that. Instead, I’m gonna keep my head up and I’m gonna smile. I’m gonna laugh and I’m going to work through what I’ve had to deal with. Not by ignoring it but by facing it. Through out all this time I’ve been afraid you’d leave and I’d be alone but the truth is you were never really here and what has been my extensive thought of what love is
Has been me alone.
but you
my love,
will always hold a part of my heart. you will always have the part of myself i put into you. the part of myself i first learned to love.
you let go and even though i have taken my time, its time for me to let go too.
no more of your witty jokes or captivating smile
hands finding each other, lips locking together
late night calls
the moments that makes us who we are
ill still listen to that song and try to feel you out there
but believing us leaves me disconsolate
you were never mine too have nor keep
neither was i ever yours.
i used to see you in everything i touched
but i will no longer be looking.
i wish you the best in life and that you are happy
as i should.
the world will keep turning and my life will go on
as it should.
ciao
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
They came one day from where I know not.
Unholy structures came to ground, certainly from another world.
They wasted nothing of their time to cast affliction upon us.
We ran away in terror in certain fear of our own lives.
Many were seized and thrown into confinement, others inspected and probed, many of us were taken away and subjected to internal examination even dismemberment, anatomical scrutiny.
We had become the source of food for our invaders.
Additional crafts came from the heavens joining their forbears.
Havoc was extreme as their weapons did their worst creating carnage in every different direction.
They lay waste to every surface and their vehicles cast out foul pollutants which poisoned the very air we breath.
Our world was quickly becoming an inhabitable, desolate disconsolate place and extinction our future.
Some of the braver of us tried to fight back but this alien nation had weapons and tools the like of nothing we had ever seen.
The lucky ones escaped into the nether regions and watched from afar as piece by burning piece their birthplaces were destroyed.
These Humans intend to colonise all that they see and our world will never be the same place again.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
wrapped in the tatters of my body
in this measureless place
I search for release
among the disconsolate boles
thin as hope
hard and dark
wearing pallid shrouds
of frozen lace
proudly displayed
in their alfresco mausoleum
an inexhaustible study
in the extremes
of leaden purity
their moribund limbs
and ice sheathed fingers
reach into me
pulling me on
tears of other lives
in frosted glory
cold upon my wintered face
always renewed
and living on
in fractal eternity
Dec 18, 2022
Dec 18, 2022 at 2:35 AM UTC
Coarse granite slabs split the earth
glinting at the fractured sunlight.
Sly winds whip and lash the grass and gorse;
disconsolate skies weep upon the land.
Rain rushes in to bloat the meagre streams,
and gulleys slash the sinewed clay.
Pulse and sluice. Erosion fashions
new forms of contoured legends.
Ragged crows snag the horizon
blasted and cursed. Little else
between the walls of weathered stones:
hand-laboured one on one.
The moor muscles its independence,
frowning at the low land,
bragging to the skies
its ancient splendour.
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 6:56 AM UTC
When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate,
Hear you amid the drowsy even
One who is singing by your gate.
His song is softer than the dew
And he is come to visit you.
O bend no more in revery
When he at eventide is calling.
Nor muse: Who may this singer be
Whose song about my heart is falling?
Know you by this, the lover's chant,
'Tis I that am your visitant.
2.3k
As a teenage boy I used to fall asleep at night
listening to the graveled voice of Ernie Harwell
fashion for me word-images of the exploits
by a band of superheroes called the Detroit Tigers.
In those semi-lucid moments before slumber,
I could see the shimmering outline of my destiny:
you see all American boys are meant to be Tigers.
So imagine my confusion, when I fractured
the right talus bone my Junior year of high school,
even putting on weight around the middle,
where no athlete worth his pin stripes would gain.
My karma had begun to take on mass.
I began to acquire knowledge, as the only perceived defense
against some parallel universe impinging upon reality.
Oh, I had everyone convinced, even my keenest teachers
believed I was destined to make my mark in scholarly pursuits.
But no one saw the crying ego of one meant to be a Tiger,
nor how that bottled up the emergence of the Man.
Never reconciled, the Man curled up in fetal dormancy.
Lifespan became synonymous with interstellar drift.
And every encountered star of knowlege was dwarfed,
having long ago collapsed of its own gravity.
Still the heavens of knowledge are auspicious,
so I looked outward, when all the answers lay concealed within.
Only as my life left the outskirts of occluded reality
did I then begin to inherit from my instinctual id,
begin to listen to disconsolate internal voices,
who had known me all along, perhaps better than myself.
The thing is ... the stage has long been set on middle-age,
what props lie about are encrusted with patina,
laden with a dust impossible to gauge or preempt,
made worse by the lack of cast, save one.
Neither Beckett, nor Pinter, could have absurded this.
So, when my acts strike you as quixotic,
when I cut with a penknife through propriety,
it's because I finally remember what it meant to be a Tiger.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
St. Margaret's bells,
Quiring their innocent, old-world canticles,
Sing in the storied air,
All rosy-and-golden, as with memories
Of woods at evensong, and sands and seas
Disconsolate for that the night is nigh.
O, the low, lingering lights! The large last gleam
(Hark! how those brazen choristers cry and call!)
Touching these solemn ancientries, and there,
The silent River ranging tide-mark high
And the callow, grey-faced Hospital,
With the strange glimmer and glamour of a dream!
The Sabbath peace is in the slumbrous trees,
And from the wistful, the fast-widowing sky
(Hark! how those plangent comforters call and cry!)
Falls as in August plots late roseleaves fall.
The sober Sabbath stir--
Leisurely voices, desultory feet!--
Comes from the dry, dust-coloured street,
Where in their summer frocks the girls go by,
And sweethearts lean and loiter and confer,
Just as they did an hundred years ago,
Just as an hundred years to come they will:--
When you and I, Dear Love, lie lost and low,
And sweet-throats none our welkin shall fulfil,
Nor any sunset fade serene and slow;
But, being dead, we shall not grieve to die.
2.2k
born 1900
when Austria was still a monarchy
that did not know
it was approaching its end
growing up as the daughter
of the mayor of a little district town
big fish in a small pond
educated accordingly
as a ‘higher daughter’
be a home decorator
do needlework
be a gourmet cook
play the piano
be a respectable member
of the community and the parish
when she turned 18
after the end of world war I
the social order for which she had been prepared
simply disappeared
her father became a disillusioned monarchist
the town’s republicans elected a new mayor
she married a railway engineer
who left her after her daughter
my mother
was born
she managed to survive world war II
as a single mother
watched her daughter
fall in love with, at Christmas 1946,
and marry in April 1947
a guy who had just escaped
from a Soviet POW camp
looked like a walking skeleton
my father
AND
was the son of a communist
who had survived world war I
as a POW in Siberia
strange bedfellows
they used to play cards together
once a week
with great gusto
class warfare
morphed into social entertainment
both my parents were working
grandmother led the household
on the side did bookkeeping for local businesses
to bring in some money
practically raised me and my brother
cared for us when we were sick
taught me to play the piano
was always afraid we would not get
enough to eat
for a while, as a little child,
I slept in the same room with her
and learned that she had
a wondrously melodious snore
going over an octave & some such
when, after grade school,
I had to leave at 5.45 am
to catch the train
pulled by a sturdy steam engine
that took me to the high school
50km down the road
she was concerned when I
rushing out the door
just grabbed parts of the breakfast
she had so lovingly prepared
when I left home for university
she was not happy
when I went to the USA for a whole year
she was disconsolate
she did enjoy her great-grandkids
when they visited, though
too much distance for too long
from the place of her birth
made her uncomfortable
in her later years
she needed a familiar place
that came with its familiar things
to do and know
she lived to be 87
I saw her last
after a second stroke
had mostly incapacitated her
a tiny woman
curled up
waiting to leave us
for a world that finally might heal
the pain and disappointment
she had so bravely mastered
throughout her life
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
•
When I saw you crying,
My heart was crushed into smithereens,
*Your sobs reverberated into my world,
And gives the most disconsolate euphony within me,*
**All I ever desire,
Is for you to be happy,**
*Oh how I really wanted to hug you,
Comfort you and wipe away all those tears from your eyes,*
But I knew we are far from each other,
**So let my genuine love enclasp you,
And give you the best console.**
with love <3
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
Truth enamored of itself...based upon
the forever following.
Flow's entrails--the
seven circuit labyrinth pends the
recollection that yielded it.
Thus, the unsound voice pouring
voicelessness.
Minotaur's digestive sound bite.
Where Once, as only Once allotted
the victor of Truth.
As told, as held...now confounds
with a self-fabricating prophesier,
profaning all telling.
Disconsolate swipes of emotion
make and remake the barren.
Pray tell the lessening visage of thee,
where by and by shall deem thee
bygone.
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
In the mist of night
I sat under computers light
Watching moving pictures
Of ******** delight.
With motions so loveless
Even my father would be amazed
At how empty and soulless
There facile expressions became.
How pathetic am I
Not to get off to such a sight
Am I broken on the outside
Or has the inside ****** me dry?
The continuous coitus
Has me wrapped in memories,
That remind me how miserably inadequate
My past lovers have been to me.
I've never got the good side
Of cunnillingus you see
Just been known as the first three letters aided with a "t."
I am distant and disconsolate with life
Relationships seem to end
Once me and males meet in sight.
My never ending lust for liaison
Has left me with no earth to stand upon.
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 4:38 PM UTC
the webmaster has
become quite the recluse
he's been away without
offering a viable excuse
it was back in March
that he fled from this egress
not issuing any of us
a forwarding address
on Tuesday we sent
out twenty four scouts
to ascertain intelligence
as to his whereabouts
but the search party had
no good news to impart
all of them were
so disconsolate of heart
the domain is rather
down in the dumps
since our webmaster
pulled up his stumps
we are desirous of him
returning to home ground
it will be such a relief knowing
he's safe and sound
an APB was posted
on the worldwide web
by Brianna Jason
Trent and Kaleb
to seek out the now
cloistered maintainer
who's deserted his position
as our house retainer
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 7:04 PM UTC
If I could keep my innermost Me
Fearless, aloof and free
Of the least breath of love or hate,
And not disconsolate
At the sick load of sorrow laid on men;
If I could keep a sanctuary there
Free even of prayer,
If I could do this, then,
With quiet candor as I grew more wise
I could look even at God with grave forgiving eyes.
1.6k
Oh dearest of friend,
After many disconsolate moons
It seems I’ve begun to wither
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 3:22 AM UTC
Rage is an eternal fire,
In the shadow of the night,
Rage whispers in my ear,
It sits and tells me all my enemies fears.
It's evil grin,
And askew mind,
It looks me in the eye,
And increases the darkness in my mind.
Rage leaves me aghast of the violent lashes I now have,
Rage acts with the mind of all sins,
When feeling disconsolate and empty,
Rage comes and takes it all away.
Rage is red haze,
It has no contrition,
When the sharp sword of rage goes down,
A blood-filled rain decends.
Rage is the army that surrounds my pain-filled mind,
And I am the commander!
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
i learned about loneliness last night,
belatedly, because no one ever bothered
to explain it to me- it was
something best kept for the time it existed in
the blank space where a hand had once been
a soft shaky touch
now absent
the sorrow comes in sultry waves
with the indigo tide of me missing your breath
on the hollow in my sleepy neck,
a whisper backandforth inandout and then
a hitch, a twitch and the slow descent
from sea-froth into dreamland
we drifted, content, into the
scared scarlet hills where nightmares roam
where i made my home, knowing that
in sleep your whispers still coated my pillowcase
and i was not alone
we sank, satiated, into
the wasteland in our wasted heads
knowing that despite the terror, we could share your bed
knowing that when i woke, gasped, drenched in sweat
you would brush the hair
from my forehead
i'd remember my respite
and we would settle down once again
and as i lie, disconsolate
my ribcage heaving, desolate, i pull your jacket
to my face, breathe in your scent, your comfort
rise from the depths
and thank whatever guides our fate
that i only feel this pain
in the present
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
We refuse to look into the lens of reality,
Never looking up from our books.
Unmoving when the rain pours down,
We wade through muddy brooks
We drink from cups and drain them to the dregs,
Only smiling when we see each other's disconsolate faces
Awakened from the dark depths,
Cast into the most uncharted places
Our broken fingers count the drops
Of each snowflake at the edge of autumn,
Blazing wildfires to destroy mistletoes,
Beating the rhythm of someone else's heart-drum
Our lips sing overtures to the spring grass,
Bringing forth the onset of the sunrise,
Dreaming that the fallen world,
Is actually what the angels sing of on high.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
Grasping at love or passion or ecstasy.
Take this pain from me, sop up my tears.
Pour me a cup of sunshine and roses.
Let me bask in the light of your aura,
And I will be full of joy once again.
My head spins and swims and swirls.
Dizzy with delusion and disconsolate,
Like a lighthouse for the lost and lonely.
My weakened heart pulses steadily.
A rhythmic blast of fluorescent green.
Jul 25, 2023
Jul 25, 2023 at 12:25 PM UTC
Confusion stems from infatuation
Depression spills over happiness sometimes
Ponder over said events
Why am I so disconsolate?
A chill makes one tremble and my hand refuses to write
Should one put up a fight?
This being is aching
From within breaking
Emotional bonds-block all?
Let everything fall.
This pitch black crippled the good in me.
Can't you see?
Too consumed in tears, shrieking and bleeding
The ones who surround vanish from sight
Life is a gift-I cannot obtain
Pain is the punishment I gain
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 3:03 AM UTC
I see them clasping each other's hand,
planted on a wooden bench,
head on shoulder,
and carving a smile at the winter clouds.
They hold each other's embrace in the chilly flurry of air,
their eyes shut,
seizing the moment,
and allowing their hearts to slowly, but surely entwine with one another.
I gaze at them, longing for what they have.
My heart sinks at my despair and companionless thoughts.
The only thing I can do now, is to keep scrolling.
My eyes fixed on the screen of my device,
my thumbs flicker from one side to another.
I keep myself distracted, vacantly staring at the pixels beneath the tip of my index finger.
Ultimately, the thoughts strike in its final wave.
Anxiety flushes over my sense of self,
and I realise.
That I.
I am.
the odd one out.
Disconsolate.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
You touched my soul and imprinted on my tainted heart,
but I still wonder why you left, without even saying goodbye.
And it often makes me irrevocably disconsolate.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC