"doldrums" poems
*Babe I hate to even think soon I'll be long gone
that destiny's a painter and the art is bold drawn
it hurts we have to part now that we're all grown
it's a sting we waited for this moment only for I to leave town
hurts that I can't change it, cuts I needs a bandage
***** harder than ******* cause I know that you won't manage
our happy song's now a dirge, unreal like a mirage
who'll get me to my feet when am parting with my clutch
me frowned at the news but none could listen to my views
guess I'll always end up trapped in a wrong place
always emerge a victor in a wrong race
I tried to appeal but karma won the case
what else will be scenic like dawn clutching to your dress
I hate to lose that smile cause it's a milli not a mile
and*
**I'm aware....
when life takes me away...
Tears may come your way...
Babe hope you know I pray...
That you don't cry for me...
Please don't cry for me...**
*I pray you find warmth in some other way
Can't promise we'll still feel us from a million miles away
but I think I'll think about you every other day
never doubting your love, that I totally swear
I'll be present in every moment albeit I won't be there
when your skies are clear and when the skies are grey
I'll be the silhouette somewhere twixt your heart and soul melting
the snow of your confusion and fears to keep your existence at bay
Please don't cry, please try...
try to think about us without a tear
try to plough your way through the fear
don't be lost in the Sea of loneliness
Hope are the sails, life's a boat to steer
Am not saying you should bottle up the melancholy
it's alright to breakdown at such doldrums, it's okay
I just wish sadness was food that you'd ship for me
or an ***** I'd mute the speakers, or stop to play
I wish life was a symphony, so that we choose harmony
I hate that the sad song of our looming reality is in production
and that it will soon be ready for karma to play, with such affection
I loathe that you're bound to listen when we're missing
I hate that I carry this worry to the hay role right from kissing
and this affection's starting to feel more of a curse than a blessing*
**Cause I'm aware...
when life takes me away...
Tears may come your way...
Babe hope you know I pray...
That you don't cry for me...
Please don't cry for me...**
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
Incapacitated, infuriated,
In doldrums.
Cardiac explosions,
Waterfall eyes.
You are
My downfall.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
Doldrums bang, doldrums, doldrums
Throughout she sang, throughout, throughout
My heart broke then, my heart, my heart
But then she spoke, but then, but then
Enraptured I flew enraptured, enraptured
Because she knew, because, because
Dispite what she does dispite, dispite
My love she was my love my love
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
*You are shattered and so am I
And thinking that I'll forget is a lie
but can't we find a way to fix each other instead of hurting alone
can't we get the two broken
hearts to stand as one
Don't you think two broken
people could truly be loyal
after all they've known the
incinerating ache of betrayal
Can't we find a way of making each other feel at home
like support each other,not only cuddle to feel warm
can't we share our experiences and
find a way to accept they happened
and instead of feeling sorry
you be the page and I the ink
and together we write another love story
can't we find a way to find contentment in each other
instead of whimpering over spilled Milk
wasting tears mourning loves that never were
yet we could find merry if we jump and fall again
I mean ain't you even just anxious to find out
without having a single speck of doubt
if all love ends but sadly and in searing pain
We could hold on to history forever but it
still would make no difference
or we could let go,finger by finger until we free fall
after all the ball's in our hands,it's our call
we could choose to focus on the past wishing
things had taken a different bearing
and freeze in the cold air of biting despair
believing our hearts are shattered beyond repair
and keep going down the rumbling doldrums and not care
or we could decide anything is worth daring
stick to and play by the ruthless rules of "it's over"
and give "us" a shot, by starting over
for so long we've been nothing but two crazy sad friends
How about we just take the lovers road, see where it ends?*
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
I kept oscillating;
in and out of love,
in and out of emotions,
between the familiar realm of raunchy young adult literature and
the new, slightly uncomfortable realm of raunchy young adult life.
I oscillated between dispositions;
between pensive and restless,
***** and
not remembering what kissing feels like,
between the doldrums of despair and the
weightlessness of bliss.
My center of gravity oscillated, too-
from my head to my heart to
my thighs
to the cavernous void in my amygdala that was once abuzz with stupid chemicals brought out by the hysterics of infatuation
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
*Shall I speak of autumn leaves while summer doldrums reign?
Wistfully, I wait for frost to paint my window pane.
Dare I yet imagine smoke from chimneys wafting forth?
Can you taste the chilling breeze that lingers from the north?
There is no time like autumn, when relief from summer's sway
Gives rise to fireside interludes and sweet rolls in the hay.*
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
She spends most of her days in doldrums,
always segregated from the whole crowd.
Everyone uses her acts and games against her.
It seemed like a game and they liked it.
But now it is toture,
she is being bullied
she fears coming to school,
she fails to catch some sleep at now,
their words keep ringing in her ears at night.
Today in the morning it was her shoe lace,
after assisting them
the only thanks they give is by making her feel misrable.
Now this afternoon she is crying,
and it all seems like a joke to them.
"Nomathemba help me with Accounting !"
they call out everyday.
After her help they become ironic,
"she is a distinction student".
They make her feel belittled.
"Dont worry you will be Accountant one day...
Because Accountants are greedy too"
i am not willing to support them,
their games are surely bad.
She fails to laugh,
nor smile,
her heart filled with pain.
She is a victim of emotional abuse,
and am the only one who seems to care.
What happened to the unity amongst us?
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC
I apoligize for not reading your posts. I have been battling my depression and have not been online . I have written a poem about it (of course lol). I hope you enjoy and I hope to be online tomorrow.
My Dark Tale (A Sestina)
It is a lovely time of day for tea
As I sit curled up to the song of rain
Memories arise of a deep dark pain
Storm clouds gather within my heart, darkly
Dimly, I am aware of rainbow’s hope
Wanting dreams infused with Rosemary and Thyme
Out of work, I suffer from too much time
Overeating and drinking too much tea
Depression worsens, stealing all my hope
And all my dreams shatter in the cold rain
Leaving me empty in the bitter dark
As I stare out of the broken windowpane
How I long to conquer my bitter pain
If only I would organize my time
I know then, I would rise above the dark
Instead, I get caught in cookies and tea
And sink deeper; chaos supremely reigns
I flounder once again, losing my hope
I am tired of losing precious hope
Letting despair and worthless bitter pain
To take control and determinedly reign
Structure! Will that allow me to use time
Positively? Cutting back on black tea
Getting needed sleep to fight back the dark
Rested, I can push back the hated dark
Strive to capture peace and beautiful hope
Learning once again to enjoy my tea
And not as a crutch that causes me pain
While I mourn the loss of wasted sweet time
Instead, I would see rainbows in the rain
I yearn to topple depression’s long reign,
To walk in the sun’s light, not the cold dark
Eager to greet the day and enjoy time
Pursue my dreams, infusing life with hope
Do away with doldrums and bitter pain
Relaxing and enjoying Earl Gray Tea
Envoi
To sum up, I yearn to enjoy my tea
Overcome my darkness and pain; to feel hope
While I take time to enjoy the sweet rain
Kelly Rose
© January 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
Mid-20 doldrums never really wore off
still slay the summers with smiles
like punches
Still walking wounded through the bad joke lanes,
questions clamped under your tongue,
with an aching brain
Can't believe we thought we'd left a place.
Still rattling 'round inside these tin can
roadways.
Carrying cards after we fold the game
Poured pretty comforts down our throats--
so many candied gas tanks.
And I agree: these couches
are feeling more like graves
Will our crutches craft our coffins
'til we bobble routine plays?
Nothing changed before we knew it.
6-year blink, it's all the same.
It's just that
Mid-20 doldrums never really wore off.
Still blur the border between wants and needs.
Still **** our thumbs when all the
lights turn off.
Still check our pulses,
then start laughing loud as
knocking knees
Can't believe we thought we'd left a place.
We're still too comfortable with our own kind.
Still fall in love with the same friends
for just a few days at a time
And I concur: these routines
are looking more like chains
Will these crutches seal our caskets?
Would we notice anyway?
Nothing changed before we knew it
6-year blink, it's still the same.
Mid-20 doldrums never really wore off.
Still chasing sunsets and a 10-cent dream.
Still rattling 'round inside these tin can
roadways
Still placing patches over fraying seams
Still checking pulses, still on quaking knees.
Still too scared to make up our minds
Still turning parties into 3-day headaches
while we pretend like we can take our time
Can't believe we thought we'd left a place
Still slay the summers with smiles
like punches.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
A ******** enthusiast
Whose pessimism is intrinsic
And not fashioned
A frequenter the doldrums
With a penchant for exaggeration
A confused Scorpio
Plagued by ghosts of former selves
Meandering along a thorny path
Under darkened infinite skies
Waiting for the severed backbone
I Possess trailing behind
To latch on
And offer restoration and purpose
An eternal student
A slave to academia
With an insatiable hunger for knowledge
In the field of economics
Governed by perfectionism
That will be my demise
A feminist
A riot grrrl
With an acute fascination with morbidity
A worshipper of rock music
And Professional headbanger
An enlightened inner-directed soul
An awakened dreamer
Gouging out
The remaining fragments of delusion
From the eyes
Embracing realism
A sufferer
Aspiring to be human.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
Oh by all means
Please do go on!
When I asked how things are going,
This is how I hoped you respond!
I wanted to know your recipe for chicken tenders.
No **** Coconut flour, huh?
Well I’ll. Be. ******
I wanted to know that you’re just trying to get through the doldrums of Day 11 & 12.
I’m just trying to get through this conversation!
We have something in common!
What I wanted to talk about? What I wanted to talk about was Weight Watchers.
I only have 13 more points left this week!
Have I told you my recipe for air “fried” cauliflower crunch bites?
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
There once was a ***** old sailor
Who's ship he began to abhore
The sails wouldn't budge
They moved like a sludge
Until a maid handed him an oar
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
Toss away sheltering umbrella,
Seek to samba triumphant in the rain.
Edit dramatic doldrums from the novella,
Relate an easy tongue of the urbane.
Call a friend as helpful lifeline,
Castle Queenside for defense,
Debate the speed of light with Einstein,
Let love be your sixth sense.
Swim out through the breakers,
Surf the hurricane back home,
Reject the quackery of fakers,
Let rain cloud be your geodesic dome.
Vilify politics of standstill,
Wink the lowlands of the moon.
Pitch an idea to the gristmill,
Sing impromptu to typhoon.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 5:17 PM UTC
my love
like a garden;
filled with flowers;
find way to them;
my love
Beautiful abandon;
rain them things;
rent these seeds;
should orchids water,
Doldrums.
Discords of Doldrums.
Beautiful. Beautiful.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
softly step through the fields of heaven,
biting through your frozen fingers,
tired toes devouring flesh,
of first born hands handicapped,
patting pants in hopes of change,
the eternal deathly doldrums,
commonplace complacence,
with cheap creeped fast food,
eternally eching for the source,
for majorities soaring sorrow.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
All oceans would this navigator discover
seven seas in seven years did he roam
whist sparkling stars in the heavens tried so hard
yet this broken navigator could not get back home
So he bites on solar winds and sails
to a place of many days of doldrums
this place so stagnant and most morose
he had to his sins, has to wait with his kin within
His crew are that hard of salty seafaring kind
with maps written on their faces cracked by sun and salt
they his, had only ****** smells and shells
call them hero's as seven seas they did horridly sea's fought
This was his last voided slipstream event
these mariners by the cut of their gibe
prayed to an Egyptian Hero some call Alligator
for he is the first and last of Navigator
So whist this captain of mapped minds falls
his company will care for his last orders
for they have witnessed in ancient tears
and the breaking of the navigator
Oh fly the flag and be proud
live poetry with passion long and loud
let your heart embrace this creature proud
whist you watch the breaking of the Navigator
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC
Strange times. When I speak of caressing your mantic lungs
I don’t know what I mean, but I know
I would hurl you under proper circumstances.
Darling, one whisper falls from a tree silently
so as not to wake the ghosts from their siestas.
Your robe has holes I can’t write of. I can fathom
getting there, what that might entail, wrapping,
as I am prone to, my fingers around your furry pincers
while I wait for you to read my rights to the ceiling fan
who whirls above our renovated combustions like the glowering
eye of our Lord upon the teary-eyed wicked.
I am not looking to escape through the window, darling.
I am diving for your diamond-in-the-rough, peeling off barnacles,
making moustaches of seaweed. You threw it into that ocean-
sized trough in which you drown lizards as way of
stress-release. I don’t know what I’ll do next.
The poor man. You give me your hand,
darling, and your robe, your robe is shiny like a pubescent star,
and it shimmies like a wagon piecing itself apart, as you
piece yourself apart, starting with your smile, which was always more
like a photograph of a dune in a textbook.
You give me your hand. It is a blue egg
dusted with microorganisms. I sprinkle it with our fragrance,
what’s left of it. I wish happiness upon your sleep-life, doldrums
upon your late-night haunting. I am tired and these
machines are so convenient, bringing me on all-expenses-
paid visits to the site of your burial. Or is it your sister’s?
I quote, my heart is like a walled onion.
The poor man is tired. It is not 1904 anymore.
You are not smiling anymore, darling, but you give me your hand.
You give it in a basket with parsley and cheese
and cut-outs from The Waterlogged God.
You give it almost grudgingly but I will keep it.
You tell me you’ve been dreaming again of train stations.
I wonder what that means.
I wonder about your eyes.
There are many spiders inside the wall, and along it,
and on the chandelier’s fingers, and inside the spiders.
I quote, a dream is worth a thousand dustpans, but you,
darling, are worth so much more than dustpans.
But I grow weepy, as stated. What do those dark blue lines mean?
Your fingers, darling, smell of a dark cloud in an electrical storm.
Your palm is a circus. Your nails ticket stubs.
That one’s from the alligator show. You dislocated your
throat. I had a plan. If you stare into someone’s eyes for
more than six seconds, you’ll want to lick them.
May 25, 2010
May 25, 2010 at 8:20 PM UTC
there would be blank canvasses
empty words
silently echoing the pages of poems not written
of narrative never revealed
from muses overwhelming
spirits overflowing
onto sugar coated melodies
woven into lyrics that
pester and harass and permeate the sacred space of minds
there would be blank canvasses
empty words
of delicate curves or hips, wide like sandy beaches
immortalized by brush strokes or camera shutters
empty panels of superhero legends forgotten
there would be blank canvasses, empty words
of no church praises hollered over holy rollin piano riffs
but most definitely, most importantly,
there would be blank canvasses, empty words
and
hands that never itched
to craft golden scrolls onto the haggard loose leaves
residing in sharpie stained notebooks
and great wisdoms never told which ****** great minds
moves great minds
with melodious lyricism
which haunts souls
taunts souls
with the burning questions of shoes and ships and ceiling wax
there would be pens never emptied dry
cultivating piles of paper ***** with half *** rhymes, rhythms, and washed up metaphors
muses would never possess individuals
sleeplessly seeking to fill up forests worth of leaves
after suffering from the doldrums of writers block
blank canvasses, empty words
in a world without art
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
The skin at the bed of her nails shone, tight.
Forever healing, windows that rattle
With the changing of her moods.
Love was a locket, an heirloom
That insisted its presence
Upon her bedside table.
She could turn out every light
And it would still be there.
Steady metronome,
Lifeless thud,
Invasive thought.
The carpet gathered artefacts from late night walks.
Bad habits clung to the walls.
No pillow talk, only muffled strings,
Failed symphonies,
Conversations three years old:
Memories that play Chinese whispers
Across the faces in the ceiling.
Irregularity of breath,
Sleep comes, clothed in Zopiclone;
A mind that never rests.
Narcosis in the morning,
Nausea over dried toast,
Sweet flamenco on the radio,
But there is nothing to calm her bones.
The red wine cast last night’s shadow,
Hollow in the eyes, first hit of daylight,
First hit of nicotine
To prove she is still alive.
Anxiety: the ball and chain,
Always dragging her behind.
Living as a ghost,
The people at the bus-stop stare,
The traffic, the signs, the passers-by,
The doldrums in the headlines,
The rain upon her window;
The heart attack and vine.
Prescription pills in the afternoon
To get her through the day,
Until she can get her fix,
Have her fill,
And finally hide away.
The high-street parade comes alive after dark,
Lanterns on the lake, the fish-bowl
Of a small town, familiar tongues that roll;
Memorised anecdotes across the ashtray,
The lipstick on her teeth.
Clumsy in victory, each stumble confined
To look as if she has walked through life
Without ever missing a stride.
There is nowhere to breathe
But in the solitude of her insanity.
She paints the walls
To the colours of her moods:
Grey in the long, long winter,
Blue in the onset of June.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
I ride on her coat tails,he sails at odd angles and angels come calling,
stalling for time,pretending, I mime I can't talk and walk to the bowsprit to spit in the ocean.
In that slow motion of epiphany I see what will and can never be and it all becomes clear to me,I spit again in the sea,cross my fingers for luck,tell the angels to f.....
No,
I don't swear out loud,I want the good Lord's protection,in signs,more mimes,they get what I'm meaning.
The moonbeams gleam off deck boards as the pendulum swings,things are taking shape and the ship sings through the waters,but later in the doldrums where the dolphins knit sweaters and the daughters of sirens play canasta with mermaids while braiding dreams with the seaweed,
I need to take a fix on the noon day sun, a hand on my gun lest the latitude betray me,I lay in a course for the Island of Tahiti where the girls sway and greet me,the old dog from the sea.
It's easy to be a madman on the sea when the salt is your spice and I've never thought twice about the angels sent packing,just went on stacking up bookmarks to feed the circling sharks,stark and unfriendly would the sea ever lend me a bed to lay down in?would this ship that I sail in ever founder,I flounder and flail but I sail into the moonlight,on a bright night you'll see me until the sunsets will free me to the tidal eternity of the sea deep within me.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
Sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…
Root from their heart and branch out in the skies…
Their innocent souls and deceptive eyes…
Their polished shoes and branded ties…
In the beginning they seek your attention…
The next desire is your affection…
By recital of their past and rejection…
Either from them or from other direction…
“Don’t sympathies sweetheart, I am a strong man… Okay”…
“My heart comes free with this ring and bouquet”…
“Say yes, my love, we’ll plan a holiday”…
“Let’s go shopping for your lingerie”…
The candles are lit and the dinner is served…
The charm and chivalry is observed…
His scent and accent leaves you unnerved…
He is definitely the prince you thought you deserved…
Ah! And you fall in the trap and love as well…
Dreaming of him and his tempting propel…
You talk of him and his stories you tell…
Of the vamps he dated and your own love spell …
He has your trust and you are happy high…
His kisses and touch you can’t deny…
“He loves me so much” you amplify…
You light his nights like a firefly…
Now when you feel the bygones are supplanted…
The road gets a little slanted…
When you are more often taken for granted…
His fluctuations show the doldrums are planted…
You inspect the change and the causes aligned…
And come across the love texts enshrined…
You feel shattered and maligned…
The way you are portrayed and opined…
You demotion as ex is celebrated with a raised toast…
With his new flame and he playing host…
You embrace your strength with care utmost…
His vows and love , haunting you like ghosts…
You want to cry till you paralyze…
Blaming thyself for this jeopardize…
The arduous task to analyze, summarize and self sterilize…
From these sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…
~Kathaa Kirti
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 4:25 AM UTC
dolly lyrics
doldrums drum's roll
dollop lopsided
doll llama amazon on
dolphin hinterland
dole dolts
dollar large, largess
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
In retrospect,
I take a quick glance
A glance at our past
Lovebirds we once were
My wing you were
As your wing I were
To each other's *****
We drew ourselves
So as to fly
Merrily to the skies
Seeking beauteous horizons
Horizons filled with glamour
In retrospect,
As time sailed by and by
I lost my wing
A wing that meant the world
A world to me so blissful
Left in a daze I was
Aghast to my heart's core
Drifting by a violent sea
A sea of retrospections
Driven by tides
Tides of regrets
Past violent storms
Storms of doldrums
On yonder I drift
Drifting to an island
An island marred with despair
Where in a circle of confusion I wander
Wandering in an abyss
An abyss pervaded with loneliness
Wondering if at all
I could ever seek redemption.
While downcast
With relentless tears of anguish
Trickling down my cheeks
In despair I wail.
Drenched in doldrums
I reminisce of the splendor
And the novelty pulchritude
The pulchritude you bear
In retrospect,
Gone are the halcyon days
Days wistfully washed away
Away by the tides of time
In retrospect,
My heart craves thy love
A love that still lingers
In my riven heart
A heart that shall never
Ever ameliorate.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
Nobody “breaks” out of prison. Steel bars are hard enough to bend. One escapes through careful planning—months of fierce attention to detail. Until one day, when the conditions are absolutely perfect. Then, one escapes by beating the system.
One afternoon, while you are observing the doldrums of prison, someone will approach to offer you a key. “Only $5” they will say, “and this key will guarantee your escape. For it is a skeleton-key.” Now, there is an old saying that “If it’s too good to be true, then it probably is,” which is easy enough to say. But you have waited so many years in the colossal boredom and misery of prison. For $5, who knows—this key could guarantee your escape. What’s five dollars for the chance of escape? So you take the key, which turns out to be plastic, and immediately snaps in two inside the lock.
Certain lessons in life stick, and this is not one of them. If you drive up to a red light, for example, your foot will naturally reach for the breaks. But this type of lesson has little to do with emotions.
Bad days, on the other hand, will make the entire world feel hopeless and cruel. Even if yesterday had us believing in a world that is beautiful even when it’s ugly. On a bad day, there is no beauty at all.
So, beating a bad day isn’t always about coming to a solution. Sometimes, it’s about endurance.
When you’re upset, it isn’t just because things got heated with a friend, or because of failure, or an unusually cold week on your holiday leave. When you’re upset, it’s because you were put on this earth to be upset. If you need proof, walk outside and ask—you will never find a person who doesn’t know pain.
But there are two outcomes to every coin toss, and even then, it isn’t as if the other face has disappeared. It is only hidden from sight until the next time the coin is tossed. And though you may not see it, you know for certain that if you turn that coin over the opposite face will be there.
This isn’t to say that our emotions are guided by the same lottery as a coin toss. Life, I hope, is full of choice and circumstance that exceed the simplicity of chance. But it is at least fair to say that, whatever the circumstances, you will outlive pain
…eventually.
Sometimes you’ll have to endure many unlucky coin tosses. It will begin to seem as though they will all be unlucky.
But think hard—the other side is there.
Escape is coming, but you can’t break the bars. So keep your eyes open. Be patient. Every day is a new toss: no matter where the coin lands, the outcome is yours.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC