"lamentably" poems
Summer grows old, cold-blooded mother.
The insects are scant, skinny.
In these palustral homes we only
Croak and wither.
Mornings dissipate in somnolence.
The sun brightens tardily
Among the pithless reeds. Flies fail us.
he fen sickens.
Frost drops even the spider. Clearly
The genius of plenitude
Houses himself elsewhwere. Our folk thin
Lamentably.
7.1k
you were never home to me
but my longing for that was so intense, it almost felt like you were
and then all at once i realized; you're my hiraeth
to be with you, inside our own four walls, was all i desired
but our house was destined to burn down
our love is a set of stars that make up a constellation
too complicated for even the most experienced astrologists to decipher
but you will continue to be my hiraeth
because the comfort i feel when im in your arms is incomparable
and although you cant be, you will always feel like home to me
i yearned for our love to be forever
but it was meant to desist
and then all at once i realized; it's our ephemeral
lamentably, it can't be our forever
for it was made of stars, and all stars have to die out eventually
but let's let it be ephemeral
because although the stars will dwindle away soon,
while they are still burning bright, they are beautiful,
and so are we
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
Death a wassailing shadow
The cosmic kindler
That announces itself
Like a slipped coyote
Out of the black eye of day
Spanning the vast vividness
The tenebrous surreptitious
Abode of God, agape
The lurid womb of chaos
Corrupting whilst demons
Manifest under the new moon
The lustre of their wiles
The illusory horological
Machine of imagination
Conjuring the temporality of eternity
Delighting lamentably upon
The smitten truth of truths.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:06 AM UTC
♪ ☠♫☃
Octosyllabic rhyme was killed.
Her epitaph I chisel here…
so face the book and feed your twit;
while I the rhythmic record clear.
The sad remains of Lyric Wit
are here interred – no more to rise
(lest poets’ brains be forced to think
and plummet from post-modern skies).
You phonies scrolling Twitter-blink,
and scribblers with advanced degrees
look up, and hearken to these words
while feigning your conceited ease.
The academic gallows-birds
reviewing chap-books, high on fluff
make darker the sepulchral gloom –
as if it wasn’t dark enough.
The verdict’s in and all assume,
as measured meaning leaves the court,
he meant to **** her (Poetry).
Life sentences are written short.
The killer grinning artlessly
in blank-verse handcuffs, void of rhyme,
composes abstract lines, the dull
memoirs of his poetic crime.
The prosecution’s notes are full
the case is made, the jury hears
his guilt made evident, at least.
The victim’s mother melts in tears
He murdered her himself, the beast.
then dumped her: a deflowered rose.
His incoherent imagery
dismembered her like slaughtered prose.
She met her end lamentably;
He did her in and cut her down
thus shortening her metered day.
(That free-verse wielding abstract clown!)
Behold her grave – where grass turns hay
as poets’ bones subside to dust;
her soul with God to reconvene
(or wander with bemused disgust).
Her grave-site paints a pastoral scene,
poetic fodder – life from death…
and calves shall fatten near her tomb.
Oh coward reader: take a breath !
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
Tail of a sea serpent, bust of a maiden
Lamentably for you, boy, this ocean’s heavy laden
With angelic voices and charming faces
You’ll believe you’re in God’s good graces
Eyes, lips, ******* and hair
Every part of me was created to ensnare
An unsuspecting sailor boy
My womanly wiles I shall employ
For my sisters hunger
And our bodies you desire
I play a tune on my golden lyre
My enchanting voice draws you in
I’ll exploit your want of carnal sin
Sea salt perfumes my flowing hair
Gently, I smile as you stare
Serpent tail and mermaid hair
This sailor boy craves a deadly maiden fair
You promise yourself, “Just one kiss”
I’ll drag you down into the deep abyss
The moment when your eyes meet mine
I know upon your flesh I’ll dine
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 7:57 AM UTC
Octosyllabic rhyme was killed.
Her epitaph I chisel here…
so face the book and feed your twit;
while I the rhythmic record clear.
The sad remains of Lyric Wit
are here interred—no more to rise
(lest poets’ brains be forced to think
and plummet from post-modern skies).
You phonies scrolling Twitter-blink
and scribblers with advanced degrees
look up, and hearken to these words
while feigning your conceited ease.
The academic gallows-birds
reviewing chap-books, high on fluff
make darker the sepulchral gloom—
as if it wasn’t dark enough.
The verdict’s in and all assume,
as measured meaning leaves the court,
he meant to **** her (Poetry).
Life sentences are written short.
The killer, grinning artlessly
in blank-verse handcuffs, void of rhyme,
composes abstract lines: the dull
memoirs of his poetic crime.
The prosecution’s notes are full
the case is made, the jury hears
his guilt made evident, at least.
The victim’s mother melts in tears
He murdered her himself, the beast.
then dumped her: a deflowered rose.
His incoherent imagery
dismembered her like slaughtered prose.
She met her end lamentably;
He did her in and cut her down
thus shortening her metered day.
(murderous, evil, free-verse clown!)
Behold her grave—where grass turns hay
as poets’ bones subside to dust;
her soul with God to reconvene
(or wander in bemused disgust).
Her grave-site paints a pastoral scene,
poetic fodder: life from death…
and calves shall fatten near her tomb.
Oh coward reader: take a breath !
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
*At scratch, discern you’ll either win the duel or face defeat
Before you go the distance warrant you’re set to dust your feet
for when a cycle is heavily ridden it unquestionably must squeak
Afore you relish a plum you most probably will ascend her tree
so be sure you can swim before you plunge into the sea
as if you can’t you may lamentably pay very high a fee.
Even before you contemplate a “happily ever after’, a fairytale, a forever
tune your grip to clench the hot rod ‘for better for worse’
scorching of blessings in the moment and every awaiting curse
and also fine-tune your lips to never say never
Before you stir the limpid prepare to deal with every ripple
for you won’t march over mines unless you want to *******
before you poke the bear, beware of the wrath of forked flame
because when you blister, you’ll have you to gulp pain and blame
before you leave, truth and no lie you ought to explain why
and also be willing to say goodbye
for at times there’s no backtracking, before a tantalizing hegira you must be sure
don’t walk off to Medina when the Kaaba you seek is back in Mecca
and turn out to be the reason you’re judged a faker
since prior sailing they say, one must be ready to lose sight of the shore
before you route for emerald pastures, learn how to mow
don’t say “No” when you feel different, or yes for ‘No’
and ultimately, you must be ready to face the universe afore you speak.*
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 4:04 PM UTC
Expertly deprived of sleep,
the King slithers across a
safehouse living room, robes
tracing a circle.
His salutations are dead.
His peasants come apart from him.
They don't
understand, but they like to think
They do.
He is “working toward
Improving the lifestyle of many, and to
give the people the privilege of...”
Yet he is not,
But let us pay loyalty for his prize,
For it's a red apple
which pushes him forth on the blood-red Carpet
of Vain—he takes a bite,
and this is how he must live his life
In order to live.
The city is his sanctuary
A place to abscond
When he starts to wonder, “Does the
world deserve
to have my conscious body, the way
that they do?”
The King whispers this lamentably.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
the silence between us was like a fire
warm and crackling
cloaking our bodies.
the energy between us was like the tips of a broken wire
sparkling in the innoxious night amid the
confluence of our lips.
the secrets between us were like butterflies
confessing themselves late
at a time of darkness
eluding our lips in the tangle of words
we didn't willingly express.
but lamentably this ended
the silence broken
slit vertically down both my wrists
cutting off our intravenous connection
the fire extinguished
the rarity ceased
the energy dulled
the wire released
our lips parted
ending like it never even started.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 1:11 AM UTC
It's hard to slumber when your not here
without you I feel so obscure
Stagnant in heartbreak, rooted in pain
I endeavor to move on but my life's full of rain
Aeonian cerebrations of you in my mind
Transitory fine-tunes are all I can find
No one can even commence to supersede you
Despite the poor endeavors to embrace few
Desperate for your heart to open for me
Pleading for your ocular perceivers to open and visually perceive
That I can be the one to make me ecstatic
So my love is what you require so lamentably
Yet, for us, I stand alone in my mourning
The fire for me is no longer burning
I require your love so i can smile again
I optate all of you so I can feel whole again
I can't make you dote me but I will endeavor
Until the day you do
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
They say a picture is worth a thousand words
And the horse with the broken leg
Is lamentably doomed to the stable.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words
But a picture is still worth not enough
To put any more food on my table.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 10:37 AM UTC
Had we never met before today,
I would speak to you with ease
for I would not be afraid.
There would be no nervous shaking,
as this would be a brand new exchange;
an interaction between strangers,
not old lovers, or friends.
I could query your name,
while you inquire of mine.
Perhaps you would even smile,
when I mention the certain green shade of your eyes.
We simply met too early,
and acquired a past,
which lamentably lingers,
regrettably:
at rest.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
clangorously declaring emergency, fate grimly heckles,
implies jackknifed life, killing my natural optimism,
positivism quashed, re: sort to undertake vitality,
wreckage xing yawping, zigzagging, alms breeching
charily. death embraced for grave happenstance,
indigent jarring kingdom, losing my native ordinary pleasure,
quivering ringing, singularly tripping uppermost volume
while Xeroxing yellowing zone, albatross blithely crushing desire
effecting fun, grippe holding impossible, Jackhammer
keeps lamentably mashing nasty oppressive pierced quaking,
reducing sensibility to utterly voiced worthlessness,
x-rays yield zero ambition boosting capacity driving
existence, future gloomy heralds iffy joie de vivre, killing
lousy male negative outlook presages quintessential
rage spilling thru useless voiceless wretched xiphoid zeal.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 7:55 AM UTC
Just like a torrential flow
Thy remembrance~
Lamentably remains
Like stagnant waters in my drain.
Feb 5, 2025
Feb 5, 2025 at 12:02 PM UTC