Remember times when you spoke of “him” or “her”
Malice was in your words – perhaps a nasty slur.
You spoke behind their backs, in gossip you engaged
Things they did - or said - that had you so enraged.
Can you see the Assassin you became?
Your spoken words were NOT just a thoughtless game
Others to whom you speak repeat your nasty words
Once, then twice, and eventually into thirds
‘Tis not the person of whom you speak who has the fault, you see
But YOU (and others) who repeat phrases carelessly
There is a Day of Reckoning, and ‘tis you who will regret
Your words of assassination on others you beget
The nasty words you spoke with great malice and intent
Will return to you ten fold – and from God they will be sent.
‘Tis HE that you must face, upon your Judgment Day
I hope that I am there to hear what defense you think will pay
For all the vicious words you’ve said within your Life’s foray
And the Character Assassin that you’ve become today.
A man with eyes so brown
Walked into town
A large dog in tow
Who he is no one knows
Wearing a suit of black
Carrying a gun against his back
A vest that will protect
Everyone is suspect
An absolute professional
Leaves guilt in the confessional
Never misses his mark
Both in the light and the dark
When he is near
You will know fear
Staring at you with a sneer
He holds nothing dear
He is not a spy
An assassin in disguise
Family and friends don’t exist
He can’t take the risk
In the shadows he must live
Gold coin received the killing begins
Once he has you as his target
He will not bargain
The killing is in his blood
Needs it like a drug
Not satisfied unit it is done
Gets a sense he has won
Chubs is gravely flat.
We remove our hats.
Her wheel deflated him—
Chubs, my cuddly cat.
Flounder is lying flat,
ambling on his back.
Her croutons choked him—
Flounder, my friendly catfish.
Gopher is resting back-flat,
striking position for naps.
Her diabolical chocolate gateau
snuffed him out almost.
Gopher rose once again,
my mangy mutt, back-to-life.
Ma decried; she'd die
in a reindeer stampede
Blowing through my area for a few days
gust making temperature bitterly cold
rushing underneath my coat; soo bold
penetrating my layers of clothing and boots
siphoning my body natural warmth
hands throbs with pain; gloves no help
feet and face froze noticeably numb
leg bones stiffening as I continue to step
restricting my singing and dancing blood flow
left me feeling empty, cold, and stiff head to toes
wondering, "are you trying to steal my heart and soul?"
Killing bit of soul everyday
Is only one gun hammer click away
Hidden behind the blanketed curtain
Hidden from sight so sure of a win
And shielded force from the light of day
A murderous horde of sold out souls
Claiming blood beating fearfully cold
For crimes of unwitting imagination
Committed and unsuccessfully sold
Without communication
Signal fires by the second ignite the abyss
Only an assassin of the deep that knows not to miss
Love in the universe more than defines this
Darkness is given more than a trillionth kiss
Snaking through the galaxy distruction in its hiss
Identifying as a rock it will leave a mark on this premiss
Gone will be all worries brought by its dismiss
Noting the impending doom, I will enjoy such bliss
"An Equitable Assassin Trying to be Nice"
...he
slides the coldies
across the table,
the beer, American
not as sharp,
but slides down
quick, smoothly
clean
cold
crisp
he thinks,
lips ripe
for kissing
the prints warm
the motive missing
somewhere lost in the hallelujahs
Jacob’s Ladder
crawling with
footprints
hands, fingers
and lips
all over glass walls
Snow White
doesn’t sleep
at all, but ...
cool as a block of ice,
history melting
all over the place
a cold case
trying to be tidy
trying to be nice
an equitable
assassin
out of place
trying to be nice
cool as a block of ice
history melting
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
How do they hit us: Rude shocks?
You wait until your heart locks:
From sent clinic: the raw facts,
With God making the last parts...
Coronary a seizure,
Quite silly exact measure;
The plague you may just picture
For a straight warning lecture:
Heart attack an assassin
That strikes bases not on sin...
Sure, its a Cardiac Arrest
Working closely with unrest:
For the famous who can't rest
Because he must give one's best:
The Bishop to taste arrest
For the safe lives he did waste
Sharp pain in my side! Big reaction!
For a stabber I'll show no compassion!
I search 'neath my clothes;
Oops! No crime, I suppose
When Sir Underwire is the assassin !
this city I already know
I've been dying on it since forever
I killed every bit of illusion here
I was bad and I was naive and I was good
there is no street that hasn't made me cry
the trees serve as witnesses
they saw me dodging the assassins
that finally killed my dreams
it's not that I gave up
I just got tired and now it's too late
maybe come back in another incarnation
when I intend to be a fierce executioner
and not the inconsequential victim
While Wendy* writes with whimsy, wit,
Poor Peter pens pedantic prose.
Sonya spins sublime, sweet sonnets,
Bernardo’s ballads badly blow.
How heavenly has Heather honed,
Alas, Alicia: anguish, angst.
Tammy’s timbre: thrilling, tasteful.
Ralph’s rhymes: repeating, rarely ranked.
Seems some sing sharp, succinct, short songs;
Oft others’ odes, odd, obfuscate.
Muses marking / missing meter,
Enrapture else excruciate.
—————
*nobody known knowingly named
for the Alliteration - Old or New Poetry Contest
sponsored by Joseph May
written on 02/07/2022
OH THAT COLOURFUL DESIGN…
That colourfully designed paper that can make one insane…
Crazily sought after by young and old,
Humans live on it till they die
Always throwing men into mayhem.
Preferred above nature
Preferred above love
Preferred above the beings
Even above the universe.
Religious houses,homes,society are in trouble,
Can make you powerful with it
And hopeless without it.
A scarce tool which everyone need…
Readily available for murderers, robbers,
Assassins and ritualist…
You might become a ritualist to have it in surplus.
May heal but can destroy
You can only survive with it in hospitals.
Elders no longer live long,
Children destinies thwarted.
Please go back to where you came from!
Let us live in peace and harmony…
Its more harm than pleasure!
Mr M...
Assassin
Jinnatul Hossain Tanim
Listen, listen, listen, ungrateful, unfaithful assassin has dreamed of liberation.
In the Second World War, the world leader Hitler whispered the wreckage of the wreckage of the world.
How many crores in plunder, how many miles, All written in Israel,
Listen, listen, listen, listen, heretics, beasts, the cries of the newborn of Palestine can be heard, in the knowledge of death, they are helpless today.
Muslim well illuminated by the arrival of the cataclysm. They will wipe out the killer on the battlefield in the guise of a Syrian newborn hero screaming at the daily bomb.
[Paraphrase-translation of the song from Lady Snowblood.]
Bright dusk buried in snow
Only the sound of a baying hound
And my wooden geta break the silence
I stride with the weight of Heaven on my mind
I embrace these nights
My paper umbrella is more than it seems
I have walked this path of a woman's life
But my tears will not again
Damp the ground where I must go.
Ah, the winding river path
A path under lamplights
Cranes stand frozen in the weeping rain
Unable to move
My silhouette upon the ice of a frozen pond.
I show no emotion
There will be no more tears
The paper umbrella falls from the blade
I stride the bitter path of a woman
Dragging my heart upon this journey.
Tension palpable, one can cut it with a knife
As the quiet assassin glides with unfettered ease,
Wreaking mayhem, misery and strife,
Choosing victims from anyone he sees.
No border, boundary, wall to hold
This wily master of his trade,
His mere presence causing misery untold,
Scant protection from his voracious blade.
We can but hold our loved ones tight
In private prayer and contemplation,
Hoping, wishing with all our might
To yet defeat this aberration.
Is this punishment deserved,
Are we the ones to hold the blame
For having nature so disturbed,
For playing God in all but name.
Do we now reap what we have sown,
Our failing clear for all to see,
Could we truly not have known
And simply left our Earth just be.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.