Comes the cold, black, Death of Autumn,
harbouring its' pique on naked limb;
stirring damp, feral winds
to the hawking, stalking,
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So...long...the day......so short....the hour
Stolen moments....angst...........deceit
......Another night.....sooo....long....the hour
Stolen moments......bittersweet
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Hard shelled,
Smoothed by many currents, many tides,
Buffing it with all that sand
As waves cycle through,
...
What's on my mind you ask? ? ? ?
Do you really want to know?
Huh, punk, do you?
Oh, ooooops, slipped into my Clint Eastwood persona there,
...
Vagabond the husband..
Job to job, place to place
Loitering in unsteady wandering
His own wishful ideology
...
So hungry-sensitive that he
craves day and night the pap of praise,
he'll ease his gripes or fingerpaint
in heartsblood on a public page.
...
What is it about some days
Birthday, festivals and anniversary
New Year and first of January
We wake up expectant and gay…
...
are we not just
bouncing around in a great rubber inferno
occasionally colliding with one another
until one of us breaks?
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Many people write
For their true emotions to unravel
Out of depression, angst, spite
But I can’t
...
After my lover has left for abroad
Happiness and gaiety are annoyed of me
Sleep does not visit me even in the nights
How do I, friend, put the angst of separation in words
...
Driving straight is fun
But careful dive along bow bends,
Trivial anticlimactic stances
Breed carking differences
...
This is
a death threat for no one,
a suicidal promise to someone,
a reaper's ransom note.
...
Fear of Death
I am confined in the cauldron of smoke
Coming out of perpetual inferno
...
Yes, we get blasé and dismissive on this site –
reading in the reams of Poemhunter posts
‘yet another poem of teenage angst’,
we say, scanning the raw wounds
...
I’m Picasso if you asked colour of my eye
In séance I only speak Greek; come hither
Only if your soul has ears
I’m a Pharaoh and accept only sons for supper
...
Hi. The name is Lou.
Born in the land of the new moon,
raised in the Pearl of the Orient.
My Grandparents as my Parents,
...
When at last she gets to slumber,
She dreams of Mr Wonderful,
Every night,
She is resolute to find the sunlight,
...
Poetry is the window of the Soul
Every window has two sides
By virtue of its own transparency.
Windows allow us - to look in and out
...
I found one single poem today
a glistening gem bright as day
There was no angst of death or fright
nor any strife over wrong or right
...
Vincent shifted from the little room in the bakery,
To a large house of his own, known as Salon du Bebe
At the bottom of ravine, surrounded by the pine woods.
He was an authorized evangelist now! In this place,
...
Beneath the Heavens' perfect blue
My life I'd dedicate to you
Walls of happiness circle round
In Trust and Peace are comforts found.
...
Geboren in der Flucht, umringt mit Schwert und Brand,
Schier in dem Rauch erstickt, der Mutter herbes Pfand,
Des Vatern höchste Furcht, die an das Licht gedrungen,
Als die ergrimmte Glut mein Vaterland verschlungen:
...
In school learned addition and subtraction
Fed fast food full of sodium, sugar and fat
Cell phone texts or tweets their interaction
By age 10 they have become techno-brats
...
With Apologies to William Shakespeare
All the world's a stage
And all the Girls and Ladies merely players
...
Oh! darkness, shrivel, shrink
and vanish from the minds
when dawn arrives on its
golden chariot.
...
This is an incomplete poem I began at the tender young age of 20 years, in the midst of angst-ridden youth. (Fortunately, my thinking is different now!) Much of my poetry on this site is a mish-mosh from different time periods in my life. This particular one has forever remained a fragment - -to date- - hence, the title. I wondered what it would be like to allow our wonderful worldwide community of talented poets to have a go at completing this poor orphaned fragment. Let's see how we all do! My only 2 requests are:
1.) Please preserve the original rhyme scheme, and
2.) Please be nice!
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Drunk on clouds and yesterday’s rain,
his hollow eyes would hate the stars
and his hat shelter him from pain
to the whirr of distant passing cars,
...
Open to the world in a broken despair.
Quietly unhappy once again.
Settled into the same routine.
Hoping for the day that I can love anew.
...
I wish I'd have done the things
I should have, when I should have.
Looking back, we're told we shouldn't -
I could have done better - been kinder -
...
Laws themselves won't save a life
Rules simply have no bearing
But to the anxious soul adrift
Provides a sense of caring
...
Those of you who have followed my blogs on Einstein and Physics theory will recall that I frequently referenced CERN which is an international project near Geneva Switzerland which has as it's goal the re-creation of the conditions of the Big Bang.
The project, planned for years, first fired up in 2008 with mixed results and limited power and problems with the gigantic magnets which accelerate the particles. But, the multi-billion dollar project has drawn fire as the most dangerous tinkering in the history of the world and has been described as a threat to the entire planet. Lawsuits seeking to enjoin its operations have been filed.
...
</>My Scorpio colleague jumps into the day
with ice-cold precision and complete lack
of existential angst, no other emotion than
irritation apparent, the beautiful easygoing
...
Swing here, swing there
To and fro
Hold on tight altogether
We’re taking off bro?
...
Hier sieht man Fritz, den muntern Knaben,
Nebst Huckebein, dem jungen Raben.
Behold young Fritz, a lively lad,
...
Stroking the round belly
He burps
Centuries of being fed
Centuries of having read
The Vedas
By Hindus to wash away their sins
Brahmins-
Why, aren't they the 'superior' caste?
...
They sat facing one another
Inside the shoddy bar
Swarthy figures
Like in American cartoons
...
My hands like God
The chapel of Michelangelo
When I carved the body
I slept with the dead
...
Kaum ist's vorbei mit dem Trara,
So ist der Wühler wieder da.
When all is quiet, as before,
...
The girl of twelve told me,
A different but then the same story,
That boy of four told me,
His idea of what life should be.
...
Walking along these city streets
Seeing people busy
Pacing
Each with their own itinerary
...
City of contrasts and perspectives
as the guide describes,
one is baffled where to begin:
Eiffel's rusty looks scaling into evanescent skies
...
abbatoir angst avuncular badinage
brouhaha callipygian charivari clandestine
cyesis doyenne effervescent endemic
gargoyle hegira insatiable keen
...
Crow Conference
Set up a ruckus, crow conference. Passionate discussion! What is so important, bringing such angst? I am simply a bystander in this crazy ear shattering debate tossed back and forth like a badminton game. Marsh land trees of Alder, birch, oak and cotton wood are their conference room.
They have come from far and wide. Is it a judgment session, a family reunion or feud? Calls ring out in dark rasping vowels drifting in the wind and echoing through the canopy.
...
The town in which I currently reside
is home to roughly 5,000 people.
Of these so called citizens,
roughly 30% make little or no attempt
...
I remember it had been a warm day,
With a vast, crowd of clouds,
Spanning overhead with streaks of red.
I had dicovered here a sense of feeling proud.
...
In this arid plain
Of perennial drought,
As I stand transfixed
With vexations rising in my spirit
...
Drifting between sleep and wakefulness
Amid remembrance and forgetfulness_____the place
Where I still can remember my dreams, that's where
I find you holding my hand, in the haze of existence
...
Mayan mystery shall be revealed
In just a little while.
Confused minds shall be eased,
Though, now, confusion piles.
...
I am King Kong
The primal angst
Where is my Ann?
Place her on my palm
...
Han kommer fra Norden,
fra Landet bag Fjorden,
hvor Vindene vysser de vuggende Flæg;
og Duggen den perler
...
Parishes seek thee done.
Snatch thinner life’s fun.
Wife be cherished moor?
...
Did you spot the girl
Who sat all alone,
On a bench in a playground
Outcast and unknown? ......
...
Dancing with fever, angst and fun,
Underneath the dazzling, disco lights,
Waiting to meet their king of hearts,
On these long, delusional nights,
...
I have built a temple
In the deep recesses of my heart,
To which I withdraw
When I don’t want to take part,
...
A snap of my mom and dad
adorns my city flat.
They were at a Bombay studio
of the nineteen-thirties
...
After angers expressive leaving, angst arrives.
Planting seeds of more imagined trivial pursuits
Assembling argument to assault envisaged lies
Taking prisoner of tortured fact and truths
...
I have never been able to come to terms
with unhappiness, I can’t exist, can’t live
when I’m depressed, when the here and
now makes me unhappy, I lose interest
...
The fury within,
passion or hate,
eternally rages,
ancient or contemporary,
...
Our thoughts go
To Aurora Colorado,
Where many a bleeding heart
Brace beneath
...
Everyone will have a year they never forget and for a number of reasons mine is 1966.
I was 18 and King of the Hill in 66, knew it all, but knew nothing at all.
...
Feeling ever so much better with offi-
cial punishment, it will not make me
a better person, but it sure will im-
prove my colleagues’ mood
...
smiling silence call deepti naval
nothing is rooten
nothing is black
...
Leaving the very spot I am
Leaving behind myself
Leaving behind my troubles
Running away or leaving…
...
Well, I'm a slice of apple pie
with just a hint of cyanide
and I'm a chipper cheeked alumni from the college of Mr. Hyde
...
Poetry you are such an uppity friend
At your whim you appear and disappear
Like an unscheduled train lost on track
Oblivious to the angst of riders pack
...
Prayer For A Peaceful Heart….
Dear Lord,
...
Now here’s a short poem
that I oft thought of showing.
A bit of a lark,
or a thing of the dark?
...
Entrapped in angst
Rhytmically swaying under
...
in the single room
dreams of yesteryears
yesterdays drips…
...
Sky vis-a -vis the horizon
light creeps in...
a new day unravels before these eyes,
the axis of maelstrom...
...
Dirty windows glancing with
impudence upon the street. Inside I
suspect there are dirty people living
their mangled lives. Checking each
...
❤️God Inspires
INSPIRED BY GOD's WORDS
...
I sit in the still quietness of morning;
Eyes closed, cross-legged
...
Als man zelt fünffzehen hundert jar
Und sechs und viertzig, gleich als war
Der sibenzehend im hornung,
Schwermütigkeit mein hertz durch drung
...
Ach wie manchen seufftzen ich senck,
Wenn ich vergangner zeit gedenck,
Da noch Lebet mein erster Man,
Den ich ye lenger lieb gewan,
...
colors of the many skies.
the melting cloud
white clouds
...
the man is the wild woman
and the wild woman is
the katha.kali dancer.
...
For angst theirs against
Infants and babies shut in classes
Montessori 'holidays' means a lot
That grand-mas are the happiest
...
I offer myself as…… clay
Spiky spine of ego removed
Make me unmake me
Knead me into deformities
...
A rose bud still, not yet a rose.
A gawky awkward teenager
but she will blossom as she grows
and make me proud she’s my daughter.
...
Immerfort stehe ich am Anfang.
Meist am Anfang einer Übung.
Eines Nachdenkens - eines Erinnerns
Einer Vergegenwärtigung
...
The Prologue:
For The Original Tom Maxwell
about his constant angst that his poems might not be read after his death, a poem to peacen his doubts
...
Boeiend Uitzicht In Dit Gedicht….
Vandaag is het weer zover
je leest geschriften en die zijn niet fair
...
INSPIRED BY GOD's WORDS….
mine praise,
mine devotion and my prayers,
...
Today the sun rose in a peculiar way,
As if it were afraid to announce the day;
First, with a cautious eye it scoured the land,
Coy, with a fear of unfounded reprimand;
...
Days of angst, days of sorrow
This cursed era of pain!
...
Winter has said adieu,
spring arrives,
birds trill,
cherry blossoms thrill,
...
There he is like the ocean
Holding an empty shell
Empty shell filled with
God's food
...
The red tongued
mouth wide opened
purring in angst
meowing at night
...
I grasped,
clawed through layers of love and want:
I'm desperate - we're disparate.
...
THIS IS A REVIEW ON MY LATEST BOOK PLASTIC FACES AND OTHER POEMS...Publisher: Monfakira, Kolkata-For copies of the book please visit www.monfakira.com
======================================================
Society is a structure and in this structure there are umpteen sensations that refuse to spring out of the plastic faces behind which we hide. Sathya Narayana’s poetry in ‘Plastic Faces and other poems’ brings to surface the
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For days I was lost
With relief I found myself-
Gained equipoise.
...
Stand near the light; don't walk towards the door
I'm myself, quite myself
Though quiet inside, I don't know.
...
The dead are talking
The dead are walking
They are seeing yet not seeing
They gaze at you but dont see the quiver in your lips
...