"doleful" poems
Thirty days have passed by,
purity abiding around my heart
Our souls were so blessed
to fast Ramadan deeply sincere
To be enlightened by its vast mercy
and the extreme prosperity
a gift from Allah came along to bless our hearts
to spread peace and love, to dig faith in each part
A blessed bounty to wipe away our tears
to rest our souls and vanish our fears
to sparkle with faith with our ambitious beliefs
and twinkle light in our bright smiles
I can't explain the sadness,
that all of it is already gone
Yet I am unable to express,
all the happiness that came along
Oh dear Eid,
you can't help it but sowing seeds of joy,
All the little children jumping out of ecstasy,
or something more
We gather all of us in a room,
cheering everything we have got
the child's enthusiasm kindling a thriving inner radiance
joining hearts with the profound crystals of love
feeling the gratitude for Allah's merciful blessings
pounding hearts of affliction and yearning
attempting to catch glimpses of happiness
that once has been hunted by a sudden death
of a loving dear soul
I have two sides today,
in my spirit is something wrong
but it's real, and I can't hide it
and let the feeling in my heart just lay
A beaming smile, so doleful eyes
As I said I have got two sides
And still can not decide.
This great festival meant a lot,
now it is just a reminder,
to all the years that have flown
celebrating a day without her.
It is just a replay,
to the digging nostalgia in my core,
until Allah will send a cheerful hope,
just be patience to get over all the mope
work even harder to cherish the heaven above.
Yet you see,
this movie will come again, the next year
and the melancholia, tingled with nostalgia
might keep you deaf and blind
along your long road.
Remember that Allah's door of repenting is always wide open
Waiting for your heart to get back and mind be awaken...
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
Some call it bi-polar
I prefer manic-depression
It fits us better with adequate expression
We live our life in swooping loops
We strive at our peak then it droops
And the doleful drudge is destitute
Until all progress stops and stoops
To a halt, face down in mud and roots
And then we rise
Called back to life by a guiding light held deep inside
Sorely self-aware, we work until we burst
Droll desperation, at our best when at our worst
"Wow you got your **** together you lost and soulless ruffian."
Then we hit our peak and it all starts back up again
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 3:08 AM UTC
It seems simple, like all used to be
It might be normal, like everyone's daydream
We would run in endless circles—
In fields of autumn cling, wading ogles—
When this used to be about you and me
The sky was glowing like your cotton cheeks
Marks passionately from kisses of your lips
We would scratch out scars Avast
From every unpainted fence that pass
In moments it was me hoping— will it ever last
As we drift up to that very hill— I envisioned
The grass was as different— different,
Different and effervescent than I ever known
And we'd lay blind feelings, forever in making
But it was you who decided to let it go
We only saw one tree, maybe one dotted line
Not knowing all is going to be— a doleful red
One horizon, everything used to be fine
When time stops you to be—
And someone took you from this arms of mine
Never it was the same or even has it been?
It would even stench fake perfumes
I was pushing to believe on what to be unseen
And where I stood, Died— of barren thirst
My sense, which was all left but never heard
And as I broke from your crimson goodbyes
I thought of every promise— A perfection,
And every commitment— An exaltation
But a solitary torment, only to know I'm trap
Oblivion, still my feeling keeps pulling you back
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 10:10 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
In my childhood rumors ran
Of a world beyond our door—
Terrors to the life of man
That the highroad held in store.
Of mermaids' doleful game
In deep water I heard tell,
Of lofty dragons belching flame,
Of the hornèd fiend of Hell.
Tales like these were too absurd
For my laughter-loving ear:
Soon I mocked at all I heard,
Though with cause indeed for fear.
Now I know the mermaid kin
I find them bound by natural laws:
They have neither tail nor fin,
But are deadlier for that cause.
Dragons have no darting tongues,
Teeth saw-edged, nor rattling scales;
No fire issues from their lungs,
No black poison from their tails:
For they are creatures of dark air,
Unsubstantial tossing forms,
Thunderclaps of man's despair
In mid-whirl of mental storms.
And there's a true and only fiend
Worse than prophets prophesy,
Whose full powers to hurt are screened
Lest the race of man should die.
Ever in vain will courage plot
The dragon's death, in coat of proof;
Or love abjure the mermaid grot;
Or faith denounce the cloven hoof.
Mermaids will not be denied
The last bubbles of our shame,
The Dragon flaunts an unpierced hide,
The true fiend governs in God's name.
4.3k
Smiling politely in the local store,
another happy shopper that most would ignore,
but what torrid secrets lay under her grin
the tainted stigma of that hidden sin,
she wraps up her fears with the things that she’s bought,
packed into bags without a thought,
the knots in her stomach drive her insane,
for she knows that tonight there’ll be anguish and pain,
She drinks her coffee and stares at the clock,
It’s ticking hands seem to laugh and mock,
her doleful eyes are starting to mist,
as she thinks of the bruises made by his fist,
Violently thrown onto a bed,
pinned down and stifled as if she was dead,
pretends not to feel the hatred and pain,
as her virtue is stolen again and again,
She’s sick of the broken promises and lies,
prays to a God who never replies ,
Its all tucked away where no one can see,
longing for the day that her soul will be free.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
On this my happy and blessed day
fondly I remember what Mother always said
upon some naughty day when I made her sad
stalling on her bidding and not being a good boy
Son, live straight and be easy to interpret
Life is a complex menu of choices. Still -
you can cruise along if there’s love in your life
I remember the wistful poetry from my father’s lips
Creamy words spoken in jest or in epic tales
and untutored philosophy when he spoke of his going:
Death has come and it’s time for last words
My life has dragged by but now how it hurries!
Be the person that you must and **** the rest!
A truly rich person shares what they value most
And so it is that I’ve shared my heart and my mind
In numerous lines of poetry that has dared me to write it
On this my 66th birthday I read no ills in this number
For I’m just a wayfarer looking for words along my route
I pick the gems that sparkle and dazzle as I stroll to eternity
The landmarks on my route are
The friends I made and lost along the way
The doleful souls that brought tears to my eyes
The pretty girls that taught me I could never have them all
I remember too the places I’ve been to
And the songs of my people – lively commentaries on everything
And how life always lay waiting to be lived
My day of birth is my day of possibilities
And I keep hearing the line from the jazz classic:
Get your kicks on Route 66!
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 2:12 AM UTC
mea culpa
mea culpa
mea maxima culpa
hear the song of the innocent
hung upon the cross
for the crime he has not commit
forced to plead guilty
by the precepts of society
whilst the crooked
stood at the base
shedding crocodile tears
eyes holding silent leers
feigning innocence
instigating chaos
taking into their advantage
dividedness, our ignorance.
here, the song of the innocent
nears its end
with his last, a doleful verse
"It is done"
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
recurrent moonlit distractions
captured by words
tied down into morsels;
separated and concealed,
contiguous yet sheer greetings
of each other’s skin
had left wanton burns
and gushing streams
of a brooding lover’s propensity
for unsusceptible matters of the heart.
there, he stood,
on the precipice of tomorrows;
ruminating and scrupulous,
forlorn yet never dithering
over mundane and quintessential quandaries
of the tepid gloss of incertitude
dangling off syllables
dictated by sordid agony.
there, he stood,
in the midst of everything;
from the otiose adoration
poured out of empty caskets
to the lenitive shades of his eyes.
with the ripples of moonlight,
the gestalt of doleful flower-like hearts,
there, she stood,
and waited.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
Hare Krishna he greets all passing familiar face
the two invigorating words his strength and happiness
his own life in doggy mess he never misses to greet
Hare Krishna to each one his dimming visions meet!
Hare Krishna I greeted him as I passed him on my way
Hare Krishna could you stop a while I had a horrible day
the mother she came to me with her appeal in distress
save my children from death be on you god's grace.
When I reached there I found one child was already dead
an inevitable fate they suffer the children in winter bred
I heard the groan of the other one but it I couldn't reach
if only you heard the howl the doleful wail of the *****
Hare Krishna I tried my best so badly I now feel
Hare Krishna trying is yours the rest is God's will
you tried what's not done and I salute the Man in you
who unwaveringly takes the call minds not the pain to rescue.
As he left me the ageing man passed into the evening's shadow
I saw there not just a man but a living god with glorious halo
It's men like him walk the earth that keeps it a place to dream
Hare Krishna I whispered if only I could be like Him.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
I cannot spare water or wine,
Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose;
From the earth-poles to the Line,
All between that works or grows,
Every thing is kin of mine.
Give me agates for my meat,
Give me cantharids to eat,
From air and ocean bring me foods,
From all zones and altitudes.
From all natures, sharp and slimy,
Salt and basalt, wild and tame,
Tree, and lichen, ape, sea-lion,
Bird and reptile be my game.
Ivy for my fillet band,
Blinding dogwood in my hand,
Hemlock for my sherbet cull me,
And the prussic juice to lull me,
Swing me in the upas boughs,
Vampire-fanned, when I carouse.
Too long shut in strait and few,
Thinly dieted on dew,
I will use the world, and sift it,
To a thousand humors shift it,
As you spin a cherry.
O doleful ghosts, and goblins merry,
O all you virtues, methods, mights;
Means, appliances, delights;
Reputed wrongs, and braggart rights;
Smug routine, and things allowed;
Minorities, things under cloud!
Hither! take me, use me, fill me,
Vein and artery, though ye **** me;
God! I will not be an owl,
But sun me in the Capitol.
3.2k
I cannot escape you
your voices haunt me
in the quiet of summer mornings
when I expect only the sound
of gentle breezes through my ash, my oak
when I would, if I could, close my eyes
and enter the world, of forgetting
your dirges call forth
the delirious dances of the dead
those slain in the summer fields, of my youth
without your mourning song
to honor their passing
without the praying processions,
the grandiloquent eulogies,
they had
only the sizzling silence
after the staccato storm
of our rapid rifle fire
until now, when I thought
my guilt was assuaged
until I listened, and
heard your doleful cries
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
The days have vanished golden years,—
Years but a doleful mem'ry now;
I hear the dirge of rough winds howl,
Above his grave to mock my tears.
Remem'ring when his strength was low;
When hunger failed and ceased his play,
He trod a frail more painful way;
I trust he's now in Thee made whole.
He is not here but far away,
The driving rain like heaven's tears
Show'ring his grave for latter years
From skies to match my spirit grey.
With breaking heart I linger nigh,
Loathe e'er to leave his gloomy bed;
I wish it could be me instead
Than one so gentle had to die.
He sleeps beneath the sullen sod,
Beneath harsh sunlight and bleak rain;
No more to suffer any pain,
While the pure soul rests with his God.
~Hilda~
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC
You've got a thousand hands
but only one mind.
Correct the clock's time -
anticipation stings the chest
but you can't complete the rest.
Maybe this is futile.
Reptilian-claws scratch for an ounce of denial.
For the sun awakens
when you scream for relief -
it is the only thing that can be done
for the doleful meek.
And the moon hides it's shine
when searching for the divine.
The darkness was meant as a guide.
Slow down your single mind,
and use your thousand hands,
that are untied.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
Through Love’s decree, with coy invite
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
How soon ye forget your sins laid bare
The Sangrail truth, the Heavenly light
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
With comely looks, a swaggering air
The greatest of all earthly knights
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
How easy to shun this dolorous affair
If ye honed instead your spiritual might
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
With glory from lands far and near
Ye took her heart and forthright
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
Le Morte Darthur, the kingdom’s despair
Was sealed upon the doleful night
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
Sitting on an ancient bench
In the doleful forgotten world.
Some cratures pensively rush by
No words no sole glimpse
Do they even know
Where they are
Or where they go?
I am being in the moment
Hearing the nature's whisper
It's a blessing moment for all
But those hasty creatures
Just slow for a moment
And turn your ears to this call
You live in a forgotten world
If you forget what is around you
And you didn't even know
Why you only just pass through?
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
The old man told his story, lost within his troubled youth
His words quite labored, heavy... his raspy voice by now uncouth
At times mixing the conversation with gin and ice, and sweet vermouth
His eyes were clear however, and I saw therein...
a quiet truth
He talked of her at length, his thoughts concise,
composed... serene
At times he’d pause, efface another silent tear he’d wished unseen
His dreams would countermand the years... love and youth,
would reconvene
She’s waiting there for him you see… The girl with eyes,
of Paris green
Some had said her ways unsound, disposition... introject
He said she knew the rumors, and she thought them all quite innocent
He told of how she’d laughed at them… of narrow minds,
and intellect
He found in her the love he’d sought, although his hope remained suspect
He looked into her eyes, and saw the faintest touch of sorrow there
Shining through the gentle mist, and the eglantine within her hair
He felt somehow her pain, although she’d kept it obscure...
nom de guerre
And so his own mistakes were viewed, in Paris green...
and sad despair
Their time together thus unfurled within this anguished declamation
Of years now spent in solitude, with lost and lonesome lamentation
For one whose essence still bestows upon his dreams, in meditation
Aspirations there arise, to leave his heart in desperation
His thoughts remained unchanged, unbroken...
memories demure
He stood to mix another drink, then paused...perhaps his mind unsure
Gathering his memories, so past and present touch... concur
And then continued once again, his sad and doleful dream of her
I listened there, throughout the night... I lie in sedentary pose
Then as I fall asleep I see the here and now,
and then... transpose
I see myself in dreams with her, but why? my heart has not disclosed
I'm lost within some late, late hour envisage... or so I suppose
I then awake alone, to find my thoughts of her and then, no clearer
The snow outside my window cannot bring her memory nearer
Though I can dream of Paris green, and all those places, so familiar
Tonight I'll listen once again, and tell my story..
to the mirror
Dean Evans
1-06-15
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Teardrops.
Many doleful,
fluttering, sips; *Living.
Combined* together in moonbeams.
Dewdrops
~Moth~
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
thirty years
since Mark gunned you down
thirty years, passed
like a long sleepless night
that ends with taunting morning light
no brilliant sunrise grandly pronouncing
a glorious new dawn of man
although that would have been your plan
with your entreaties to give peace a chance
and imagine, imagine, imagine
now I kneel in this rain gray park
like a reject from some holy ark
a pilgrim in doleful disappointed pose
after seeing what your earthly brothers chose
was not to imagine a world of peace and love
but to wear reality like a cast iron glove
making mockery of your martyred chants
proceeding like a billion scurrying ants
deaf to your childlike pleas
across the soaked soil where your ashes lay
yesterday and today…and tomorrow
I feel the soggy sorrow
that you would have felt
if you could still see
all the rage of humanity
(written 7 years ago on the 30th anniversary of the ****** of John Lennon)
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
A doleful mermaid, heavily pregnant,
Sits on the waterfront rock;
Endlessly waiting the sea explorer,
Who promised her the moon.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 9:22 AM UTC
Forsaken shrine,
Nights align,
In a spotted chalice,
Like onyx wine.
Out rings a bell,
A raven knell,
The wicked cry,
And doleful spell--
--Of witching's time.
A wayward soul,
On blinded stroll,
As through the dark,
They must patrol.
The traveled path,
A harsh lambast,
And so return,
The hour's bath.
Fore a shape,
A phantom escape,
Awaiting idol,
Past a molten scape.
River quelled,
Fusion's shell,
Lest a shade and shadow weld,
Beware the spell--
--Of witching's time.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 11:01 PM UTC
Hands rough, from long days in the mines
Only one day to look forward to
That day in which true love be intertwined
Star crossed love, perceived taboo
A Dunmer and a Breton!
Her father would not condone
For his stature would it threaten
So this love must remain unknown
This night we steal away
To meet in the hills above Soljund's
Gather my belongings, make haste, no delay
With her love, all else can be foregone
*Dragonborn travels
happening upon a doleful scene
two dead lovers
in the hills above Soljund's*
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 2:25 PM UTC
It was a fortunate evening
I chose to stroll out. Somewhat cold
and cloying soft for recent rain.
The grass arched speculative at me
the better to see Godot on his way to an appointment.
Just so, the stage light
mixed its ponderous firmaments
to a more even pigment.
I gazed upward at the longing, doleful
eye and felt the monochrome sigh of
that girl who sits upon the air.
She directs her lambent limelight
half-heartedly for she only reads the script by candlelight.
You can see her strolling over gondoliers
or pausing on the running man in a
nineteen-forties travel film with all
the ubiquitous pains of
a villain in a childhood mystery.
A bleating bulb that never burns the eye.
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 28, 2010 at 6:15 PM UTC
we may have begun
with a glorious big bang
and some delirious dance of stardust coalesced
into just the right rocks at just the right time
to give us our trifling flashes and lost shadows
on this rolling stone,
but what is nobler
than stepping in the doleful dung of cursed carnivores
before it becomes desiccated, before its mushy mass
turns to invisible gas, and makes hallow our air
and divine our dust
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC