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Best Poems Written by Ross Blade

Below are the all-time best Ross Blade poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Process This

The oxymoron ..
His anger keeps loving you
again and again!

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The Wicked Woman

The wicked woman 
Says, I can take the kids,
So obey me! Woe man.

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Eden Lost

Hush! say nothing son.
Suffer his sins silently.
Silence is golden.

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Tongue Lashing

Fiercely his tongue lashed.
Head bowed her spirit bleeds out.
Invisible cut.

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Mighty Male Myth

Much maligned are men.
So mentally mangled that
Many self murder.

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Inner Child

Inner child, forever confused?
Puzzled by alcohol misused.
His angry dad when so infused,
Did with hand, belt and bat abused.

Inner child, cruelly accused,
With arms and hips then deeply bruised.
His ‘self’ reduced and made diffused,
Mental pain left talents unused.

Inner child, who was once enthused,
Broken by violence, excused.
Mind distorted by truth refused,
Shrouded by lies mum circumfused.

Inner child is with hope transfused
And, by sound help, self-love infused.
Where visceral doubt, once oozed,
This inner child now disabused.

(Disabuse: To persuade someone that a belief is mistaken)

Dedicated to the Rev. Antony Barraclough, whose spiritual guidance and humanity, enabled me to find hope and peace among the living.

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Alcohol

Alcohol
Social lubricant?
Laughing, falling, fighting.
Three sheets to the wind!
Drunk

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Pornography

Misogynist cult
pawns, rosy cheeked petals, for
a cold pallid bane.

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The Unholy Trinity

Sunday morning's allure peels
Pedophiles click their heels

Sunday School an open door
Fleshy choices on the floor

Parent's trust in Holy God
While evil men sheepskin shod

Eye their apples on the job
Which to tickle poke or bob

The jolly knight's chief desire 
Blond hair blue eyes he'd require

The Scotsman chants lyric verse
With boys alone he'd converse

The coat of many colors,
He'd slip between boys covers

In church, at prayers so divine
Poor mums, they receive no sign

Pius pastors' theology
Teaches on Pistology

Their divine career assured
The Sods left un-turned accord

Sing on all in Holy Song
Blind the mothers right or wrong

Move Minister to Bishop
Precious Pawns instead they chop

Alone in Saint Ives to rot

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Bee

Beezy beezy bee ...
Farming flowers just for me.
My sweet honey bee.