"meloncholy" poems
All alone, again
Feeling meloncholy and captive
Within a cloud of intentional isolation
As each thought comes and goes without an answer.
Memories flicker in the crime scene of my mind.
My perception is clouded by questioning every suspicion.
As I try to stay unemotional and rationally make doubt my enemy.
This day has now ended and I have not made a decision.
Wondering when indecision and fear have intersected in my life.
Have I become so insouciant that I am blinded?
As I grow old and in my final hours, could this be my biggest mistake?
I am unwillling to dwell in the present and find happiness again?
Hours spent suffocating myself with regret
Tried to harden my heart to the point of no return
But, I perservere and try to rise above the abundancy of pain.
Licking the salt from my tears as they drip to my lips.
I now lay down, so silent that even my breath is quiet
Asking if the pain is worth the possibility of a true love that will last.
Will he crush my heart with unintentional love for another?
A chance, I guess, I am willing to take. Or too soon?
I can only pray that the right answer will come during my slumber
And it will be within the will of my creator
Praying that my dreams will be filled with the answers that I seek
And tomorrow will be full of love, trust and loyalty.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
Everyone seems to do, just fine on thier own
How come I can't stand, the thought of being alone
I'm spiraling down
Taking the innocent with me
I don't think I'll ever have the strength, I see in so many.
Darkness and silence surround me,
My horendous thoughts drowned me,
Happiness pursuades me
It pushes and it grinds
But I can't seem to find, the stability
Everyone has but, I.
I pout and vent at those around me
I give off an aura of nothing, but meloncholy
My vibes I send, aren't what you wish
If I could change these emotions
Trust me, I would in a flip
But I am stuck in a state
Of which I cannot explain
Its costing me everything; my life and my friends
None of them can feel, the pain that transends
So why be around me
I'm a burden with no mends.
Oct 30, 2011
Oct 30, 2011 at 2:02 PM UTC
Dear willow tree
How you enchant me
You provide a place to hide
From all inquiring eyes
You are my secret place
My great escape
Wrap me in your leafy arms
Keep me safe from harm
My mother's tree
You were thee
With all your meloncholy beauty
You mean so much to me
Your leaves hang off your limbs like vines
A perfect place to hide
I wonder if they admire hour beauty like I
Oh the things you must have seen
To make you seem so meloncholy
I want you to know with all your sorrow
You're still beautiful to me
You stand tall and proud
Away from the crowd
You are a cherished sight
Eminating might
You're so graceful as you sway
the wind begins to play
You always beg it to stay
But one day all things go away
But I want you to know
You will always be sacred to me
My dear willow tree
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
Such a pretty face
with a body beneath
a tattered dress
Yesterday a new moon
wearing a paper smile
escaped with finesse
Chandeliers of mistaken dreams
illuminates a petty farce
Cascading moonbeams
hide behind
a concrete mask
*dance oh pretty one
dance for me
beneath the moonlight
dance, be free*
Underneath a lace moon
wearing a concrete mask
dance in step
with meloncholy
while you laugh
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 6:27 AM UTC
Prolificus II
another day has come and gone
without a thought lingering
while the clouds of meloncholy
strum the magic harp
and the jester dances
with the bells on his toes
his words still ran freely
like a mountain stream
and his knowledge of
nothingness
flowed
endlessly
continuously
unwillingly
his logic still unlogical
rows after rows
not a rhyme or a prose
without adjacent adjectives
or proverbial adverbs
though sometimes a breeze
whispered the name
from the lips of Louise
distance and disdain
crossed their faces
like wheelbarrow races
meandering
thoughtlessly
rigorously
unending
pour me another one
would you barkeep
I ain't going nowhere
Gomer LePoet....
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
is it the paradox of construction
of an unseen core or a painful interiority
with an insistence on a dark meloncholy
which is it, which is it, oh which is it
is it unreasonable I ask, to persist obstinately
in sorrow
or is such a cause a despair of bitter corrosiveness
centered on that very paradox
who with astonishing vividness
conveys the spontaneous rhythms of the mind
a mind in motion that preserves unprcedented intensity
that reflects disturbing exchanges of intimate encounters
intertwined in unresolved vagaries that present themselves
with the passage of time
and view these dark attractions in the same moment
the same moment of becoming, yes at that moment
the moment of our death
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
This is for the imperfect drunk...
The hopeless ******
I too have been the bottles *****
Outweighed by a gram....
I seen the world at ground level....
Because shame kept my head heavy like lead...
The world had so many ideas that were spoken in meloncholy tones.....
With so many answers how could i fail.......
As i hurt myself one more time I reached for a band-aid.....
But with tears and pain in my eyes all i got called was failure....
Like a bruised muscle i nursed my broken soul...
And when I realized I no longer wanted superficial assistance....
It was easier on my pride to put down the evil....
Because the lies people fed were spoken taunts....
it may not have a "Why" or a " What"....
But my question is" Why" do you like to judge me when im weak.....
And "What" is the answer that will make you happy...
This is not "What" makes me happy..
"Why" cant you see that??
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
Gone with the breeze
With the passing of time
Nothing but silence
Only the sound of birds.
Memories etched within my mind
As I walk along the empty field
I remember football on the green
And walking along the river Cole.
Picnics on Sunday children played.
Cheese and tomatoe sandwiches
This field was filled with family joy
Those days have come and gone.
I look around not a soul insight
Things are so differant now
All those folk have moved on
And some no longer still alive.
So in my mind lie meloncholy thoughts
Those memories come flashing by
Memories of those happy times
Now all that's left is this empty field.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 11:55 AM UTC
Soar to the stars
Fly with the snowflakes into the immortal wind.
No specific destination just to the end of time
Boundless discovery, eternal elation.
Dance and embrace the harmonies, which surround you.
Sounds of the ruffling leaves surfing on the very current
Which carries you.
Landing is not in question as you inhale a second wave.
Take flight into the blissful night
Higher than before, rising to the sky as an eagle overseeing his kingdom.
As a cloud, taken by the breeze fullfilling it’s destiny in the infinite sky.
Open your eyes my innocent child.
Behold the wonder of yourself as you look upon the earth with a(n)
Naïve eye.
Make of it as you wish ,
Paint and tattoo your thoughts on a canvas of the mind
Embedding what you feel, not just what you envision
Relinquish the meloncholy that chains you.
Landing now becomes eminent,
Falling from the brilliant beauty of an illuminous moon.
Crashing on the concrete reality of what life truly is;
A nightmare to a dream
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
Pelted by winds grace,
shifted by the melody,
I'm meloncholy
Hoisted up in the air,
this feeling to hang,
there is where I lay
Someplace far,
someplace unseen,
maybe that'll feel alright
Bit by bit,
piece by piece,
to be put together
just to fall apart
Placed in hand,
this rhythm keeps me sane,
am I to blame?
Split down the middle,
ripped apart in the end,
stitched together my madness
Complacent,
yet unstable,
I'll wear the mask that follows
Nov 19, 2023
Nov 19, 2023 at 4:56 PM UTC
Lay alone in the dark.
Eyes closed staring at the ceiling.
My heart sinks inside my chest.
Thoughts spiraling out of control.
"Why am I here?"
"How long do I have left?"
It makes me feel so empty.
How most of my life is wasted.
Tossed aside by unnecessary things.
I don't want to be tied down.
By the miserable pleaurlties of my mother before me.
Explore, live in happiness, achieve my dreams.
That is the life I want to live.
It seems so unnatainable.
Out of reach.
I hide in the darkness for now.
In my own treacherous meloncholy.
Until that one day illuminates me.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
i am just days away
from turning.....
older.
and in truth,
meloncholy with it....
this year has stretched,
long and hard with
sickness, accident and death.
and my feet drag,
in self indulgent sorrow.
i should be glad,
to have survived.
i should live my time
with joy.....and vigour.
but...the empty places
at the table
and the cards...
unsent.....sadden me.
perhaps,
this is just another sign
of the wonky biological
clock that is mine...
that now works
on peri-menopausal time
and this sorrow,
is just hormones and
little baby loves
saying farewell
as they waft
into the never to be....
i am still young,
somewhere within me
full of promise, pleasure
and passion pop...
but, the me
that groans
and creaks
and clicks
as i fall out of bed
to feed the cat...
the child, and the man
then washes the clothes
and goes off to inspire
a class of
bright young things
come home, cooks diner
writes fatuous poetry
while watching tv
before falling back
into the unmade bed
looks upon this weekends
festivities with dread...
and if honest....
would much prefer that it
all be forgotten....or kept low key.....
bah....humbug....
little grumblebug bitten me..
time for another load of washing...
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
I am sad today
It is not from love
But my family
What could they be doing?
Saying?
Without me being there?
There they are, far away,
And I here, so lonely
I want to cry, I cry in silence
My dear mother, how could she be doing?
My siblings, what could they be fighting over?
I don't want them to think of me
Or that they miss me
I only want their company and warmness
The bread is soaked in coffee
And we spend time together
Till we part away to dream
A *** of water is boiled
With some rice
We add cinnamon, milk and sugar
When everything is ready we wet the bread in it
And we all spend time together on the sweet morning
And from there we part ways until convening later in the day or night
To be a family again.
That is why I am sad,
I sleep and wake
The night and day
And it's only me
There is no rice,
No tea or coffee
Or the warmness of my family
I become saddened
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 1:22 AM UTC
Lord, I sure got the blues this morning.
Woke up with nothing beside me, but a pillow and a stain.
The gray clouds crowded around me,
And that drizzle became a pouring rain.
I feel so melancholy -
when I hear your name.
The sibilance of those syllables,
Triggers a recall, Pavlovian pain.
Music's like a wicked woman!
Fickle and sour as a pickle she can be.
Before you go dancing with that damsel,
You better check out the scars on me.
There's a reason or three,
they call me, call me, call me....
Mr. Meloncholy.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
Taste me
With every bud on your
Tongue
She reminded.
Every tiny
Tingling
Bud,
Savoring sweet.
Hear me,
She urged,
Every vibrant
Vibration
Rattling rhythmic.
Inhale me
With all of
The strength in your
Motivated lungs
She advised.
Let me linger
Lustfully
In the pillows.
See me.
Not the reflection
In your meloncholy eyes,
She warned.
And he knew what to do
When the time came
And he felt her
With each
And every
Nerve
In his body.
And he remembered her warmth.
And he knew what to do
When the tides turned.
And he knew what to do
When she told him
To miss her madly.
But he didn't know
What to do when
She was gone.
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 9:04 PM UTC
I am
a massive wave of contradictions.
I am
too complex for myself.
I am
a lost soul,
searching for an anchor.
I am
the epitome of meloncholy.
I am
a mere flicker
in a world of glowing stars.
I am
me.
Whether I like it,
or not.
(d.d.b)
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
I breath in and exhale
I'm trapped in the belly of a whale
Graffiti blanketed ribs, spotted with meloncholy *****
Pacing around a hot tar pit
Burning off a different face
For every human hidden in every place
But my friends didn't follow after me
The trail unto the fish in a glittering sea
My body will scream
But my mouth has seams
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
I forgot to tell you
as we sat beside each other
on the floor
in front of a puzzle
I knew was flawed
That we’d never get to finish it
because of the missing piece
It was never going to be whole
but it could be perfectly incomplete
Because I forgot to tell you
there was going to be a gap
A great big hole inside the picture
that would never be closed
because the piece was lost
and it was never coming back
So I left something out
when I asked you to sit down
You thought you going to get a complete masterpiece
instead you got an empty space
and we both looked at it
Me with a meloncholy smile
You with a distant frown
You tried to deny the hurt
of the incomplete picture
all I could do was whisper
I know there is a missing piece
but I’m hoping you know how
to make it complete
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC
the burdensome anxiety that is my life,
presses upon my stomach
like the birth given female trait
none of us wish to be "blessed" with.
it tightens my intestines
and makes me sick
as if the ***** i wish i had
had been severely kicked.
I have grown accustomed to
calming myself down
and panicing
all in the same minute
and i have watched my world
crumble in front of me
and rebuild
all in the same minute.
and i start to grow tired of the routine.
the inconsistency that has been
****** upon me unwillingly
makes me feel vulnerable
like i did
when I was small and fragile
wondering why
he had touched me
in places i was told were sacred.
nothing is ever planned
and every moment is random
but why do i feel like
someone's sole intention
is to see me without sanity.
every moment could be sickness
every day could be happiness
every instance could be a trigger.
So what is the beauty of living
if not to prepare yourself for the inevitable,
what is the meaning of life
if not ineffable?
I have found sanity,
in dark paths of my past.
I have found insanity
in calm nights alone.
and somehow
even in times i was close to death,
clenching a bottle to my chest
i realized that hell probably feels a lot like home.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 5:32 AM UTC
Day by day,
night by night.
When the thought of you,
being so close yet,
so far away.
Around the same time every night,
your name pops into my head.
I just can't forget you.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Let me sit quietly in this house,
The early hours as the sun rises, casting shadows to show duality and warmth to show us love.
A bright blue sky to clear our minds.
But soon I'll be on my way.
Jumping between pages,
A shattered memory and a broken rib,
We burnt out the place my mind used to be,
Left ash piles and Polaroid pictures with little tiny people saved in an instant.
A memory of a meloncholy mood drifting up from my mind as my heart beats faster,
This anxiety is turning my Polaroids into matchsticks, my gut into a butterfly cage.
An ant in the headlights of a car, doesn't think what make and model the car is,
Yet I see my fears, my ghosts and my life and I can't help but be dragged on stage with them,
Analyse them and pester them, taking notes like it's my job, and writing until the voices in my head might finally be quiet.
I guess if I can't quiet my head, I'll leave it instead.
Say goodbye to this cigarette wasteland, with cherries and bongs.
This pyscotic diagnostic of a funny story I once heard, blended together until the lumps come out.
Well he's never been able to deal with himself, his mind, his monsters.. so you'll have to excuse him as he dives into concrete swimming pools, and tries to jump over houses to no avail.
Well he sees his floors in other people's houses, and feels anxious and scared.
You see, we don't like what's wrong with us, so we hide it and lock it away.
But if no one can see them how can they help?
You tell your children they're beautiful,
But it's only because they're your creation.
This is a problem with the world, we never tell anyone how beautiful they are,
So we all just sit like rhinos on mountain tops,
Defensive positions, walls up, guns loaded.
Until that one Disney butterfly flutters by, distracting some as they're drawn to it as it floats down stream and saves them from themselves.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
I am sick of trying
why could you not love me back?
why could not love me at all?
Said, tomorrow will be brighter day-
what hath stop us?
And now, you wouldn't even want to see me?
I am sick of trying
of these little games- of our love whispering
oh darling, I told myself- it'll be all fine.
I'd broke my heart, why did I imagine you to be my own?
why did I think that you could hold me, a little- if not for too long?
turns out- it was not you; just you never felt
besides, you are going away
but will you think of me, at all?
in some of your nights, or in some of your casual moments?
I suggested; an alternative- but this didn't suit you either.
while I wanted to ask- why couldn't you love me, a little?
says a little voice to me - that I can't -- since, it's all vanished.
looks like, it never happened- nothing ever really mattered.
while I write this, with your image in my head
my mind asks me million questions; why did I fell for you?
to myself- I am like a prisoner; of my behaviour- not loving those who love me dearly; falling for those who can't love me back?
have I not been loved enough?
oh darling- this is a nutshell of my heart
so wild, so carefree - it fell for you, unknowingly- and here I am;
writing; with bitterness and meloncholy- so sick of trying, and losing.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
Spring
Passing
Like a swarm of bees
A meloncholy change
Momentary sneeze
You wonder what's the buzz
The fuss
Where's the charm
That used to hold you captive
And had you so disarmed
Spring
Well, for a moment anyways
Daffodils, azaleas bloomed
Against the blues and grays
Of an overcast sky
A cold snap,
Then a freeze
That paralyzed the beauty
Beneath the bright green trees
And weeks passed by
And petals fell away
And color faded out
To just another day
But fortunately the dogwoods
Show up just then
You think the show's over
Then they come sweeping in
VSM '17
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 8:18 AM UTC