"sullenness" poems
The mind it yells ‘imposter’
Each time I find the time to write
Never telling who I am, only telling who I am not.
Squawking, sulking in my ear
Drives the pen, the words to veer,
Drives the mind to that of Lears,
Into the sullenness of my volition.
Imposter, Imposter - not a syndrome but a title;
The title of my biography, the world’s class joke
The worlds least known, the worlds last hope.
I have a Saviour but I am my own,
Rather, I insist to be my own.
Hypnotized by the shadow, or not a shadow but a void,
A black void, not empty but falling,
Falling deep and a miss, falling, falling to my abyss -
Imposter Void Imposter, write your sweet nothingness,
I pity myself but I go on, Imposter Void Imposter -
Sympathetic, the abyss lends it’s kiss.
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 2:18 PM UTC
Day 1
Melancholic,
Color blind,
Running through the streets of thoughts,
Oh, what's happening to my mind?!
Day 2
Sullenness,
Black magic,
Falling into my own shadows,
Am I covered by a dark fabric?!
Day 3
Lighthearted,
Full of joy,
But still held back by these strings,
Thinking again, what's the big ploy?!
Day 4
Resignation,
And jubilation,
Delight in the shades of orange and gray,
Is this what people called, the salvation?!
Day 5
Hopeful,
With a new day,
Fluttering my wings for a long flight,
Will I escape this ridiculous play?!
Day 6
Spirited,
Spread of wings,
As I gather all my might,
I think, will I finally break the strings?!
Day 7
Euphoric,
Boundless delight,
Colors come rushing back to the sky,
Alas, I fly out of the night!
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
My adored one dwells in my feeling,
I have actually seen that domicile of bliss.
My queen is she, the imperishable
My women is she, the never ending
Only she knows the sullenness of love
She has extremely felt me in her breathe
No one comes nearby me, except you
When I struggle in a dilemma,
Everyone come to share the joy.
Whenever destiny play, a game
Love never shows an outside injury.
But the pain pervades every aperture
I am always a follower of her preachings
The songs of her own naked body and mind
As a sacrifice for me and for others too,
She will live long forever and ever.
By Williamsji Maveli
www.williamsji.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
www.moonmakers.com
www.kallettumkara.net
www.ipoetree.in
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 5:17 AM UTC
Oh, here I am confined to the walls of my sadness!
I am lean and weary,
my heart thin and dreary.
Oh, how I've longt to wander yon mountainous hills again,
this time with thee,
descending the steeps, our bare foots brushing against the heath beneath
blending into the hilly surroundings
under the laughter of the joyful heavens -
o how riveting the bank underneath shall be!
O how delicacy shall reign my frame abruptly -
bequeathing its foreign spirit gladly,
so that I am showered with its frantic idyll
with adversity whose love can never forget!
O how this joy shall conquer any rivers of indignation,
drive their disdained yoke away
along with those conceited tears
of sullenness, hatred, and amorous gluttony!
But unreachable art thou!
O Kozarev, my prince, sole prince in these silent wintry dreams,
how thou appeareth like a gleaming apparition,
soothing my reposes, making whose armours complete,
with smiles can bear all my gloominess away,
whose lovely jests are warmth to my soul, my yearning and choking soul,
in the deathlike bursts of this misty day!
O Kozarev, in today's laborious air I shall think of thee,
thy stately figure, thy youth of ardour!
Thy grin the star to the fading sun;
thy words that calmeth sorrow; and sendth thrills through my bones!
O mumbling lips, o trembling horns!
My little treasure, if only thou could hear my earnest longing
my very earnest desire; sincere yet tempestuous
that I shalt lift my hands around thee
Just how those rocks stand firm on the glaring sea
Cheers in its coldness; praises its bland waviness
Like a small boat unyielding to the melodious storm
when the last harmony is no longer sounding!
O, how I long to share this fondness with thee!
Kozarev, my demure pleasure, my belated fate!
My firing snow, my blazing sun,
the handsomest flower of my being!
My lithe little heart might be of nothing to thee
I am unworthy, yet I yearn for thee so willingly!
Kozarev, amidst the rolls of my dreams I devour thee,
wherein dwells the upmost of our affection
and sits our sheepish little village!
And adjacent to the gentle fireside
upon our wooden squeaking chair
brimmed with love, smeared with laughs
I should rock by thee
sew thee into my very own loveliness
and ****** thy grace
to the faint redness of my lips.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 5:55 AM UTC
by Damon G
. glum, morose, surly, sulky, crabbed, saturnine, gloomy mean showing a forbidding or disagreeable mood. sullen implies a silent ill humor and a refusal to be sociable
I'M BECOMING UNWOUND
. glum suggests a silent dispiritedness . morose adds to glum an element of bitterness or misanthropy
I NEED SOMETHING TO HAPPEN
. surly implies gruffness and sullenness of speech or manner
A VIOLENT THING, EVEN
. sulky suggests childish resentment expressed in peevish sullenness . crabbed applies to a forbidding morose harshness of manner
THE CRUSH OF A BREAKDOWN
. saturnine describes a heavy forbidding aspect or suggests a bitter disposition
A REASON TO WANT TO
. gloomy implies a depression in mood making for seeming sullenness or glumness .
GET UP AGAIN
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 9:51 PM UTC
From the depth of sullenness
A cry is released
Screeching with violence,
The silence is ceased
Next time the laughter
Behind the scenes,
Accomplished by whispers
Rallying between
A **** of the head
A sonorous glance
Many tears shed
No noble stance
All eyes center
They all stare
It won’t get better
She is quite aware
An orb of commotion
Molded to harm
Weighed down with emotion
Triggered the alarm
The stress was too much
She couldn’t bear no more
But she’s numb to the touch
And has closed the door
The others around
Just watch her top blow
They watched her soul wander
And didn’t help it home
Too late has already escaped
Her escape wasn’t too fast
Entangled in
Delicate strings,
The web of confusion
Has locked her in.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
Thou unrelenting Past!
Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain,
And fetters, sure and fast,
Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign.
Far in thy realm withdrawn
Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom,
And glorious ages gone
Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb.
Childhood, with all its mirth,
Youth, Manhood, Age, that draws us to the ground,
And last, Man's Life on earth,
Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound.
Thou hast my better years,
Thou hast my earlier friends--the good--the kind,
Yielded to thee with tears--
The venerable form--the exalted mind.
My spirit yearns to bring
The lost ones back--yearns with desire intense,
And struggles hard to wring
Thy bolts apart, and pluck thy captives thence.
In vain--thy gates deny
All passage save to those who hence depart;
Nor to the streaming eye
Thou giv'st them back--nor to the broken heart.
In thy abysses hide
Beauty and excellence unknown--to thee
Earth's wonder and her pride
Are gathered, as the waters to the sea;
Labours of good to man,
Unpublished charity, unbroken faith,--
Love, that midst grief began,
And grew with years, and faltered not in death.
Full many a mighty name
Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered;
With thee are silent fame,
Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared.
Thine for a space are they--
Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last;
Thy gates shall yet give way,
Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past!
All that of good and fair
Has gone into thy womb from earliest time,
Shall then come forth to wear
The glory and the beauty of its prime.
They have not perished--no!
Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet,
Smiles, radiant long ago,
And features, the great soul's apparent seat.
All shall come back, each tie
Of pure affection shall be knit again;
Alone shall Evil die,
And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign.
And then shall I behold
Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung,
And her, who, still and cold,
Fills the next grave--the beautiful and young.
1.1k
What legendary parts
Can we play.
Might we emote sullenness
And find a sheath for our daggers;
Act impetuously and stab at rats;
Be susceptible to lies and hankies;
Do we speak proudly to our friends
And countrymen;
Should we go mad, be foolish
To float on laurels, and drown;
Are we advisers and know-it-all
Busy bodies;
Will we be friends, and die
Sacrificially in the end;
Should we cut out our tongues
And gauge out our eyes,
To draw pictures in the dirt;
Why be so courageous as to fall
On your sword;
Will we smile and be a villain,
Then fall off our high horse?
Or
Will we give new meaning to love;
Replace the stars in their orbs;
Control the elements for our children;
Bear our friends like princes;
Accept harlequins at court;
Be gentlemanly in any state;
Love more than ten thousand brothers;
Support our partners in what they will?
Script your part.
Life isn't all comedy and tragedy.
Shadows don't offend,
And life is more yielding
Than a dream.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
Blur of Gold
Let the world blur
On the tips of her toes
She will spin and spin
Till the darkness grows
Hands raised above her head
Shoulders disappear behind her hair
The loud music will mask
Her erratic gasps of air
Dispersed in opposite directions
Every rhythm is so new
In her temporary blindness
Every light is blue
A delirium airing live
Adrenaline looking down a cliff
The only voice is nothingness
Every muscle learns to forgive
Just like a gold coin
Tossed down suddenly
Intruding eyes are hypnotized
A blur of gold is all they see
As if just to teach a lesson
To put the black next to the white
Irises flicker with sullenness
Then dies a vivid light
Meters of cloth
Wasted on the sparkly ground
Paler than the spotlight
Departs the pulsing sound
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC
If ever a ***** lived and tried
to steal every-man's wife,
on her disappointment
she threaten to tear her hair,
entreat a scene, poor lass.
How I wish to ***** a hedge
let them grow abundantly
just to keep her off my patch,
yes my own sense of self
my steered sullenness
that will preserve my catch
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
She moves with such fluidity in your atmosphere draping herself like sheer satin, elegantly etherial...
I feel like cotton underpants
My mouth heavy with words that refuse to reach for air and tie my tongue down and crowd around my throat
My foot steps are heavier, earthier, than her tip toe grace
Elegant hands drape so adorningly over your shoulders
Her eyes dance with depth
her lips sing with spirited conversation
Mine a steady and constant gaze deep and unyielding
with lips given to sullenness,
And still you gravitate towards me as if she didn't exist
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 3:35 AM UTC
for a few moments
we stood
beside a flowing water
shaded only
by barren trees
and the grey of the sky
and for a few moments
we kissed;
dogs chasing
at our ankles
the smell of spring
so strong
and the night before
(it was beautiful)
she felt my face
as it was too dark
to see
the way
I felt
and I couldn't stop
even when she said
"I won't"
even when she said
"We can't"
even when
I was just holding my breath
she told me
how it wouldn't work
and my sullenness
so easily broke so sweetly
into kiss after kiss
maybe I am a fool
but simply:
I love
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 8:16 PM UTC
*I'm running out of distractions,
My head bobs out of this shallow denial,
With the condensation of the present,
Settling around cruel and final.
With an unsheltered sanctuary,
Broken telepathy to the furthest corners of my mind,
The mystery of the veiled present unfolds,
And only the sullenness is left behind.
I'm running out of distractions,
I can only indulge in this involuntary fall,
Under the lingering shadow of the moment,
The conference of thought stands tall.
What is there playing before my eyes?
Everything I'd hidden my face from day after day...
A world compromising to the speed of sound,
But somehow it remains frozen, behind glass displayed.*
● ● ●
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC
*What am I to become?
I held bottles
of promises,
And threw them
At the setting sun.
Watching golden irises,
Melting steel
With their intensity,
But hands refuse
To acknowledge them
As if they were viruses.
What am I to become?
When every yesterday
Is tucked under
An avoided tomorrow,
In a book finished by none.
What am I to do?
When it's three
In the afternoon
But the sky is midnight
Black further distorting
The sullenness of blue.
All the first class passengers,
Safely heading
To their clean slates
In Mars where
It's free from damages.
What am I to become?
A fraction of empathy,
A fraction of passivity,
Intermingling
In one tongue.
What am I to become?
An upgrade?
Where streets collapse,
My roof is still intact
My weather still calm.
So is it hope,
Or absolute dread,
That's setting
The first step
In this unfurling road.*
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC
I slipped down into embracing
the dim state of morning solitude,
avoiding reality like the plague,
the sound of my heart—blued, subdued.
Sullenness was painted on my face
like the blue sparkling butterfly,
for three tickets at the carnival that day.
I cried before the paint could dry.
I poured cream into my coffee—
not milk as I did the day before,
but this day was a new day—
a day to run to the liquor store.
The first day with myself by my side
in place of you.
The first day I drank wine,
before the coffee could brew,
I couldn't drink my coffee,
I couldn't eat my toast,
I couldn't go back to bed
because that’s what I missed the most.
I didn’t wake up next to you,
the first eyes I met should've been yours.
If I might’ve seen the glisten in your eyes,
and those tears not have poured,
I might not have picked up the knife,
might not have been drawn to the blade,
might not have dimmed the lights,
might not have locked all of the doors.
First thing that dim morning,
if I’d not thought of you,
if you’d left my mind before I could wake,
I might've been on Earth today.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
*
My acclaimed one dwells
in my emotion;
in full motion;
like my body portion;
She is my queen of light heart
and is very keen, not to depart
I have actually seen that
abode of bliss.
My queen is she,
She is enduring;
Immortal; imperishable
My women is she,
She is never ending;
Perpetual; eternal
Only she knows
the sullenness of love
She has extremely felt me
in her breathe
No one comes nearby me,
except you
When I struggle in a dilemma,
Everyone come to share the joy.
Whenever destiny play, a game
Love never shows an injury;
whether in or out
But the pain pervades
every aperture
I am always a follower to
of her preaching..
The songs of her own mood and ****
The wings of her own body and mind
As a forgo for me and for others too,
Let her live long forever and ever.
*
By Williamsji Maveli
12.01.13
Email: [email protected]
www.williamsgeorge.com
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
White; the enemy of individuality.
Sensitive to stain;
So glares any impurity.
The cause of light’s disdain.
A mount of perfection,
For all the unwanted,
Baring intolerable rejection;
Their impurities are vaunted.
Grey; the melancholy shade.
Permanently on the fence.
Sullenness being made.
Prosaicness from whence.
Agnosticism of colour.
No conviction for what it reflects.
With a deficit of vigour.
The reflection of all that detracts.
Black; the absorption of all,
The greed of light.
An entire life’s pall.
The enemy of white.
The face of the deep
The end of all things.
Light’s filcher to reap,
Before any beginnings.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
I remember you playing your
guitar the day he died, by
the fire in your backyard.
Everyone was through with
crying. Neither of us cried
because that’s just not who
we are. But if he could have
heard you playing your tunes,
I’m sure he would have shed a
tear for you.
Temptation
lured us in with its embrace.
Perhaps the passion we had,
our act of small departs,
was not worth all this
pain. Worth the guilt and
shame we brought on to our
broken hearts. But you will
never love me the way you
loved him. I know you will
never stop loving him.
Everything about you entices
me. Your ******* and your
thighs, your bright eyes in
the moonlight. And in your
voice there’s a sullenness.
We both have that. We both
lost souls on those dark
nights. But we looked past
it all and sat in your
backyard by the fire
as you played your guitar.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
Boiling resentment
Aimed straight at you
Icy eyes slashing
Lashing out
A gleaming blade
Rage
Sullenness becomes me
Chiseled cheekbones
Rising Hatred
Blame
Mask the underlying truth
Sadness
Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 12:10 PM UTC
'In those vernal seasons of the year when the air is calm and pleasant,it were an injury and sullenness against nature..not to go out and enjoy her riches and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth'-John Milton
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC