"doomy" poems
Thy velvety pink lining has revolted against thy most honorable wishes.
'tis now an angry, burning red!
Much like the doomy pits of hell!
And hell is how one should describe thee.
But why? Why doth thy choose such a path?
could one have followed an alternate?
will thy destiny have changed?
Explosions as mighty as all the worlds volcanoes
oozing pain, thy knees tremble like an earthquake
One can no longer enjoy the purity of ones skin
One can no longer live carefree
If kept a secret, thy shall be no different than a murderer!
A soothing touch.
Although, the rain hath left no moisture.
The grounds crack and ache for a new rain to fall.
Thou shalt not ponder such occurrences...for will it come?
One has high hopes.
As high as the heavens.
Aug 29, 2010
Aug 29, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
If I were an opened can of pop,
You know what I'd be right now?
Flat.
That,
Is a horrible thing to be,
Cause you see,
I am up and bubbly fresh,
Now down,
Gloomy doomy death.
I am moss on crack,
Growing out of floor,
Covering the world,
And wanting more.
Cause you see,
When a blind man falls,
I like to laugh,
Because he doesn't know when the ground
Is going to hit him in the face,
And when it does,
He's so surprised
Like "How the hell did you get all the way to my face?"
Then I, come up to him
Laughing,
And say,
"You met it halfway!"
And run like a *****
But I'm flat,
And that,
*****
Like a straw set in a frosty milkshake,
Set between two starry eyed lovebirds,
And as they are about to indulge in the yumminess
Of the creamy bounty before them,
The eye of the guy,
Catches the sight of the girl,
Who's not sitting in front of him,
Passing on the by,
Catching his eye,
And his girl is soon by his side,
With a look on her face,
That could stop a race,
Dead in it's place,
For the fear of the world coming apart at the seems,
And he, knows, it.
She knows what he thought
When he saw what he saw,
And when he stuttered and sputtered,
She had heard it all,
Just not in so many words,
So much for these lovebirds.
She said what she felt,
He heard every word,
Then she turned and sped out,
He went quickly after,
And every one heard what he tried to shout.
And bursted into tears,
At the humor that was there,
Far less did his attempts,
Even try to fare.
It was told through the day,
From ear to ear,
"You had to be there"
They said with tears.
"But baby wait,
This is too much,
Come on, let's go back,
Our milkshake hasn't even been touched!"
And guess what?
I feel like that straw,
Feeling so lonely,
Nerves getting raw,
Listening to the fight,
Knowing this ain't right,
I should be cold,
But with the heat of lips,
Caught between sweet nothings,
And sweeter sips.
So you see,
What I see?
Feel,
What I felt?
How it just stood there,
While the milkshake,
It melt.
Leaving it in a puddle,
No one would drink,
And being wasted like that,
Poured down the sink.
Makes you think.
That,
It must be horrible,
To be,
Flat.
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 10:45 PM UTC
Gloom! Gloom! Gloom!
I can't see the Room for the Gloom
Is there anything else in this Room...
but Gloom ?
How can I bloom with all this Gloom
in the Room ?
How can I find my Vroom Vroom ?
I start a poem "Too soon! Too soon!"
And then it stops
And then there's Gloom
Fetch me a Broom that I might sweep
away all this Gloom
If only there was something else in the
Room... if only.
Doom! Doom! Doom!
How did you get in the Room ?
Who let the Doom in ?
The Doom is in the Room... Again!!!
Doom! Leave the Gloom alone
Doom!! Put the Gloom down
Doom!!! I'm warning you now!
Shall I fume, shall I fume ?
Locked in here with the Gloom and
Doom
No! I shan't fume
They'd only say he's too far goon
(ouch!)
What I need is a boom, a big big
Boom!
A Big Bang a boom boom Boom!
A Boom BOOM enough to fill the
whole Room
With that kind of BOOM!
I could take off to the Moon
Then I'd sing a different tune
There'd be no more Gloom and Doom.
But then, where would they go, what
would they do
Poor old Gloom and Little Doomy
They'd be out there in the cold with
nowhere to go
Lost without any Roomy
They'd be looking in the window at me
all sad and teary
My poor Old Gloom and my poor Little
Doomy.
No! I love my Old Gloom and, I love
my Little Doomy
I know what I'll do
I'll put the Boom in my Room with my
Gloom and my Doom
And then we'll all have ourselves a
HUGE party
A Big Blooming Booming Gloomy
Doomy
A Big Bang a Bang a Boom Boom
Boomy Doomy
We'll all have a Ball in no time at all
Down at the Old Gloom and Doomy.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
I'm not trying to be all "poor me"
I just write what I know
I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me
But what I feel and what I see is what I show
I know how sappy and pathetic my writing can be
But again
I just write what I know and I know a life full of sorrow
I'm glad that maybe you don't get why all my pieces are a bit gloom and doomy
Just please know
I am SO glad you don't know
©2024
Jan 21, 2024
Jan 21, 2024 at 11:56 PM UTC
In a dwelling on Lake Geneva
In a dank and doomy room
The grandiloquent guests did their best
To pass the tedious time of gloom
To excite their thirsty imaginations
Byron suggested all write a story
He specified it must be ghostly
Phantasmal, or gory
So Mary Shelley set to work
A most dutiful and diligent scribe
Scratching marks of Genius
On paper for the reading tribe
Invoking from imagination
She contrived a most appalling creature
But it’s not the one that you’d expect
It was the Dr’s conscience that was the most terrifying feature
The parable of men’s meddling
Is conjured fast as lightning
The potency of Mary’s vision
Is such it’s truly frightening
With tale sublime she renders the creature
A thing of neglect, deserving of pity
Her musings are so fierce, divine,
Her insights so wry and witty
For all his grand creations
Man is next to nature impotent
Only the latter is all-knowing
And omnipotent
Project finished, they gather round
To listen to the others' stories
After the test they decide Mary’s is best
She walks away with all the glory
So that is how our famous fable
Was woven in to existence
It was sublime and transcended time
And stayed in our librarys' persistent
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Yes, it's another poem from my vampiric friend, the fearsome COUNT ORLOK!
Death's Head am I, silver-green
Eerily glowing-in-the-doomy-dark,
See my delicate feather-like wings,
Wings of an ethereal ghost, deadly antennae,
Scented fatally with secret moth codes.
And I stare unblinking...
I watch my own wings flap open;
My life is balanced on my fingertips,
Weightless and shimmering, fearful of what?
I dare not ask that, for I dread the answer,
The response of night-creatures baying at the moon,
As in a terrible nightmare.
And I fly forth to bring death
To frail creatures of mere flesh,
O the joy as my teeth sink into waiting necks
And proboscis-light kisses run down my naked spine,
My tongue savouring their dying essence,
A vague taste of purest *****
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
I thought about how, if I were
able to enter other people's minds,
that the world would seem to take
on different hues of experience; dark,
bright, gentle, sharp, doomy, gloomy,
fuzzy, scary, warm, cold, a warmish
coldish synthesis diving between a
freezing.. naked.. sorry slugger on
a dimly lit island in the dead center of
the ocean thinking of how black and
desolate a place the world is only because
the potential for cold pangs of death wish
are there at all (whatta shock!) whilst he's
passed a blanket by a friendly nowhere pedestrian
and all of a sudden with the help of some agency
in the cold night, he is warm with the freeze only
nipping at exposed heels and neck and nose and
face.
sitting empty, expecting nature to clothe him, he
forgot that nature includes his ability to sew quilts..
adorn himself in developed fur.. accept help from the
endless parade of nowhere pedestrians eyeing with
worry, compassion.. that this concern is as intrinsic
to universe as empty breathless space and biting,
flatulent wind..
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
I still remember that dreadful time
That season !
When the sun set in shame,
The tides refused to rise,
No bird ever sang,
The rhyme of valor of warrior wise.
The leaves stopped to shed,
Every lane in the town was blood red,
Just remember how dreadful it got,
When the ice gave us warmth,
And the fire began to freeze instead.
Nights were even more darker,
Days got gloomy,
Stars never twinkled,
World was getting doomy.
The silverlight of moon,
all thought to be a boon,
also perished in dark,
as hope broke it down too, soon!
Clouds they thought
were merciful in town,
until pain and sorrow it was
which they poured upon.
Was it a reality
or the lucid dream.
Or the reality trapped me in the dream,
I never wished to be in.
I still remember when I asked it,
"Is it dream or reality?"
and he said,
"I am in you but you have always been in me!"
Yes, how can I forget,
that when it all happened
and my conscience was reason,
How can I forget that dreadful time
that dreadful season.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
I'm a woman with a heart,
But one day it turned not.
It is not accidental,
That my mind turned detrimental.
Little by little,
Turning grateful.
Being grateful,
In the plot of baleful.
Wickedness, evilness,
Forming in my head.
Doomy, creepy,
Smile on my lips.
Sometimes I like to do it on my own way,
Being spontaneous on my own play.
But most of the time I love the way how it is,
Stabbing someone happily on it's face.
I didn't mean to be this way,
Watching you shivering from far away.
I hope you have a spectacular day,
Because you're probably next one day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 6:32 AM UTC
Dingy dongy tiki tiki,
Boomy doomy hissy pi,
Hushy hushi, pluckahchaki,
Traki doomy criihh.
Chipy Gippy farafashhh,
Micky mucky boooo eeh ah,
Dingy dongy hikipiki,
Boomy zoomieka.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 10:59 AM UTC