Best Accusation Poems


False Accusation

False accusation,
Temporarily scars my reputation,
A rash, affecting my complexion,
I question why the truth has led to persecution.

I try to scratch off the lies that are said against me,
I try to dodge all the darts that you’re throwing at me,
Just wait for some time, the truth will surely come to light,
You soon will surely find, that the whole time I was right.

Don’t even try to spite me,
‘Cause you don’t like me,
What goes around,
Comes around,
And you will find me innocent,
Omniscient,
Is our God, who sees everything,
And I know, 
He will show you who is lying.

I don’t want to call you a Pharisee,
But it’s sad to see, 
How you’re accusing me,
Remember the times that you needed me,
I never charged a fee,
‘Cause you were close to me,
I see how you have made me your “enemy”,
Through your lies and the way you are treating me.

False accusation,
Temporarily scars my reputation,
A rash, affecting my complexion,
I question why the truth has led to persecution.

The Accusation

My friend ,
You have accused me
Of stealing the color from a butterfly
Of your town.
I tore out of some garden, you say,
A sapling of gulmohar
And planted it
In a desolate and barren cemetery.
Just as the coral tree
Has bitter roots,
So, in my heart,
Lies sin!
I am degenerate, immoral,
You have judged me to be vile!
I am well aquainted with pain and have deliberately
Made it my power.
I am a bird of prey and do not care
For the friendship of little birds.
My colors are false,
I am a dishonest dyer!
The inky serpent of fame
Lies around my neck
And strikes, with my songs,
Little heart-baskets!

My pain, like Ashwathaama’s
Is never-ending!
You remind me that my body-room
Will disintegrate soon enough.
In exchange for fragrant songs
I trade in wombs.
I am, you write
A very adolescent trader.

You say that a shadow
Is a child of light.
It is not the duty of a shadow
To separate.
The duty of a shadow is
Devotion to light.
In light, to always be ahead,
And to extinguish itself in light.

Even a bird can fly away
If is miserable in its cage.
But each day
I catch and discard new birds.
The reason I do this, you say, is that I covet just one thing,
The sorrow in my soul.
Because every song I sing,
Is a song of sorrow.

You also write
About one butterfly.
The butterfly who spent a short time
In my garden,
The butterfly with a weakness for,
Silver flowers,
The butterflywho desired,
Golden stars.

Her face was sweet,
Like the moon in a desert.
My songs
Were very dear to her.
You considered me
A son of Saraswati,
Today your opinion about me
Is altered!

At the end you have written
That I ought to be ashamed of myself!
That I should drown myself
In a tub of acid!
I should take my sick self -
Along with my songs -
And leave the environs
Of your town today!
Society has no need
Of my worthless sorrows!
I should be fighting for
The rights of workers!
I ought to disperse the color
Of my beloved
To the grain in the fields.
I ought to take the sorrow of the world,
And set it, like a jewel, in a ring of songs!

The Accusation In Answers

we are worn glass;
lungs shorn to a staple
of grammatical haste
that worsens when 
inhaled by smoke. 
 

He tells me:
believe in ghosts, 
and always let
pride supersede you. 

but I don't have much
faith to those
that only tell me
that time is ticking
right underneath rib bones
and cigarettes. 

There's no lines
to read between, 
and I lied when I said
it was fine, and okay. 

He says:
you're a cheater. 

And I simply say, 
tell me you weren't asking for it.
© Hell Kat  Create an image from this poem.


Exhortation On the Wings of Accusation

I want this venture to spread wide 
And her first walk a giant stride.
So, let's face things from every side,
Checking, wisely, losing man's pride...

Some had this tried and later cried 
For lent ears to cut and dried,
Besides who shall have the sweet bride:
Who, in deed, should the horse first ride?
What I now see: men who schemes hide'
To whom hope of true change had died:
Guys who can Satan's - type time bide 
And have Christ nine times denied!

Let him fly who can also glide:
His truth: he'd many times lied

The Accusation

piteous is thine case oh constitu! 
Thou upholder of the fundermental right of thine land 
The sole inspiration of the activists 
Who advocate equity in the land's cream and candy 
What thine mighty effort still turns offence 
At the rapacious pillars of the land 
And in collusion hath thou impose an accusation 
Accusation of an ailment, 
Ailment of the belly 
Drag to theatre 
Constitu inside the room 
Flatly on the bed 
Is this the theatre or an abattoir? 
But qualities are missing! 
Where is the lancet?Where is iodine?Where is spirit? 
Oh all are not! 
IS this a surgical operation or brutish slaughter? 
Why must knife?Why must cutlas?Why must dagger? 
Nerves are maimed!Muscle mltilated!Strenght is off! 
Activist in mute!Equity is gone!Candy in danger! 
Cream in peril! Land dwellers in pain!Pillars are fat! 
Oh constitu!Could you please recover, 
And becomes your real name----Constitution?

Premium Member Wrongly Convicted

Accused publicly
Dragged through the mud
Stabbed in the heart
Pinned to the cross
Humiliated defaced
Forsaken on my own
No one to take my part
Or even listen to my side
I may as well be mute
The verdict has been cast
Everyone is satisfied
Except me voiceless faceless me
I’ve been thrown under the bus
They’ve gotten rid of me



AP: Honorable Mention 2022

Posted on December 12, 2018


Mindless Accusation

Your words, harsh and cold
Muttered in a gust of irritation 
Perhaps brought on by the bug in your stomach
A plausible reason, of course
Ain't it always the way,
The perfectionist you placed on the pedestal yourself
Now she's grown all over, breaking out of that box on the pedestal
It is a grotesque sight,
pink and plastic, dusty disgusting pink
Looking like expired candy confections, flies buzzing all around the sweet stench
You may want to turn your gaze away from this ghastly sight
And yet she hums desperately in the wind
Grasping thin air for any sort of support from your hand
The thread binding the two of you seems to have grown thinner somewhere 
Frayed ends that can never break apart
Such is the relation between parent and child
Time and time again, the same story comes and goes
Nobody learns a damn thing
And in such gloom, a child is born somewhere 
An old person dies somewhere else
I'm not the same boxed in princess, father
You refuse to see me for who I am
I understand that, but I have bent out of the box
You may find fault at random moments
You may claim to have superior ability in handling crises 
You may view me as incapable for the world
It does not matter to me, I see through your defences
And I accept you, albeit with a twinge of annoyance
Your accusations imprinted into my heart, 
my brain chooses to forget and move on

A Friendly Accusation

She said, "You were watching my rump!"
He thought for a bit and then said,
"Think of me not one dimensional"
"I love you for all you embed"

"I love the clever way you think"
"To me, your all, is a delight"
"Your sashay when you walk away. . . . ."
"Ok, I must admit you're right!"
© Pat Adams  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Airtight

airtight alibis
amethyst 
eyes



posted on September 20, 2018

The Accused

She accused him of being cheap
Then calls him a nasty creep
For touching her bust
He was fill with lust
She hits him and he falls to sleep
© Daisy Ward  Create an image from this poem.

Accusation

My vast steppe blessed with treasures untold,  
A peaceful land where labor unfolds.  
Seeing this nation's abundance and peace,  
Enemies gathered, their threats unleashed.  

If a person’s heart is blinded by ignorance,
They follow the words of others without resistance.
Those who act rashly, without a second thought,
Will regret their mistake for a lifetime, distraught!

The fallen can rise again to their place,  
The weeping can smile with a cheerful face.  
But if faith and belief are absent in your heart,  
A single step can lead you astray, apart.

Arrogance and selfish pride are a snare,  
From these, Man's troubles always flare.  
Yet sons of the past, in every age,  
Never turned on their kin with rage.  

Those still from their mother’s milk,  
Their minds unfit for the world's silk,  
Were led astray by schemers’ guile,  
Deceived by dreams, their hearts defiled.  

With poison planted in youthful veins,  
False hope burned bright, but left its stains.  
By spells of cunning and twisted schemes,  
They joined the ranks of wicked dreams.  

Thus, the youth were lured away,  
With tricks and lies, their minds did sway.  
Severed from roots of ancestral pride,  
They dug their graves with hands untied.  

Now all is weighed by money's worth,  
A world where wealth defines one's birth.  
Banquets, casinos, and endless nights,  
Betting halls glow with their gaudy lights.  

Through bookmaker dens, both young and old,  
Their steps unsteady, their dreams sold.  
Losing fortunes in just one day,  
Their broken spirits fade away.  

Both young and old indulge in sinful play,
A dreadful illness in society today.
Some mothers, once protectors from harm,
Now lack even a mouse's instinctive charm.

Thinking only of selfish gain,
Compassion lost, their love profaned.
How can we call them "mothers," indeed,
When their own child they choose to impede?

My heart is heavy with endless despair,
Like a boat adrift on seas laid bare.
Cursing these deeds in my silent grief,
I condemn them before the court of belief!

She got to live, he didnt

She got to wake up the next day
He didn't.
She got to live her life
He didn't.
She got to have her own family 
He didn't 

She lied
He didn't.

She admitted to the lie -
No repercussions 
He was a black boy -
He got murdered

Carolyn Bryant,
A murderer 
Emmett Till,
A victim 

The courts awarded her due diligence 
His family fled in fear, that it'd be repeated 
Leaving their home, scared they'd be targeted
Their home a ghost to a child evicted
A system built to allow racism

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