Best Accusingly Poems
Wearing wireless headphones as I listen to the news.
I'm outside watching children playing, taking in the views.
There is screaming in my ears two voices disagree.
A little girl serves her playmates imaginary tea.
They're speaking on the pod, unarmed victims shot by police.
Captives tortured in war. I hear our own. I hear their pleas!
There's screaming in my ear a few voices disagree.
Little girls sitting pretend to speak French saying Oui, Oui!
There are typhoons hitting an island, reminds me of a tsunami.
Also officials gathering parts of a plane shot down by an army.
What happened to the plane that went missing, no one remembers.
Teenagers on the street play basketball great kids, great neighbors.
The president uses his pen, makes some politicians angry.
There is screaming in my ears so many voices disagree.
The girls skip rope, laughter fills the air and singing too.
Pundits discuss, argue this and that it's what they do.
Night and day is closer then these scholars and their degrees.
Theres screaming in my ear, voices, everyone disagrees.
The guys still shooting hoops, living the life, always polite.
Protests on the streets, the police display their might.
Some back peaceful protests others speak accusingly.
There is screaming in my ears, crowds of voices disagree.
I wave goodbye to the boys, we'll talk, I'll see them again soon.
The children want me to skip rope I play along like a buffoon.
They laugh that I can't skip properly. I leave them to their play.
There's screaming in my ear, voices...might as well talk to clay
My sleep will be hard, in the morning the sun will shine, children will wake.
What kind of world will we leave, you smile and laugh but feel like a fake.
Look how well we have done. When did we stop being one, being mild.
What happened to being cohesive? It takes a village to raise a child.
There is too much screaming in my ears, too many voices disagree.
I can only pray, lend my voice to the calm, hope we can all agree.
11~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillan
Contest Name: I CAN'T BREATHE: A peaceful Protest, An Anthology of Powerful Poems
Categories:
accusingly, care,
Form:
Rhyme
A frozen winter’s chill hangs in the air
Icy landscape under a cold clear blue sky
Frosty branches point skyward accusingly.
The cold brittle air catches in the throat
As if it is about to break in two as
Winter casts its frigid cape all around.
The golden leaves of autumn are now brown,
Crumpled underfoot, or turn to wet mush
Beneath the bare trees standing like sentinels.
What can break the spell of winters grasp?
What magic can turn the season around?
Or is it better now to hibernate?
As frosty air rises over the lakes,
February is such a cruel sad month,
The heart of winter, yet a prologue to Spring.
In memory of Sylvia Plath 1932 – 11 Feb 1963
Categories:
accusingly, february, memorial day, spring,
Form:
Free verse
DON’T GET ME STARTED
1. About taxes, we have to pay them so why bother
Wasting breath complaining? And they’re spent on
Useful stuff like nuclear weapons and world-tours for
The Prime Minister and keeping teenage shoplifting kids
In jail (where they belong) and allowing major embezzlers
Or inside-traders to be under light-supervision on open prison-farms.
2. About Richard Nixon, a president who got caught
Doing what practically every president does,
And did trivial things like achieving rapprochement with China,
Ending the war in Vietnam, and signing nuke treaties
With the USSR. What a waste of time.
3. About bees, because why should I put up with stings and all their buzzing
Just for honey, when I don’t even like honey or beeswax?
And don’t tell me about the hexagonal architecture of honeycombs.
Buckminster Fuller did it better without stinging or buzzing anyone.
4. About sushi, which is a bit too fishy for me. I hate fish,
With those big staring eyes in the shop, or floating pathetically
Around In the shrimp-pan gazing accusingly at me.
5. About Australians, wanting applause for kangaroos, wallabies or Melbourne.
How about a round of applause for Canada for having beavers, or the RCMP?
6. About rap “music” which really should be called crap music
7. About dogs
..................................................
( Don't get excited, politically, sexually or architecturally. No nationalistic or animal rights complaints, please. It's only a funny poem.)
Categories:
accusingly, funnyme,
Form:
Free verse
The bitumen sockets of a fox's skull gape out across
an open field, testament to open-casketed interment.
Starlings pulse ephemeral iredescence in a cascade of
limitless water falls. Autumn's late sun throws shapeless
shadows across a ruined tree, hunched over, its grey-brown
bark witness to countless years of inflicted torture.
And the cinching together of its narrow waisted branches
scream against the weight of delinquent crows.
Redundant pose of a one-legged king leans
into nonexistent wind, pointing malnutritioned
sticks accusingly at the ignoble intent of winged demons.
An impertinent robin perched on his dilapidated crown,
sounds the nocturnal 'last call' to all who are still abroad.
A blanket of evening mist enshrouds his kingdom safe
from vespertine raiders and sharp-witted foxes.
The King has put his night cap on and stalkers rule the silver
veils and black-tarred veins, listening to the land breathe.
Patient ears reveal a midnight snack and a mothers heartbreak,
as nature's competitors endure its contest. Sly look meets
fertive glance on hard won boundary, and pensive new -
comer tastes the trees for scent of ownership.
The nights smudged daub drags into early morning coloured
calls between the feathered demons of the worm-fertile field,
as the redundant mists finish a hard nights shift, and the lost soul
of the night is easily replaced by nature's gift. And the King, woken
from his slumber, stands careful watch over his dominion once more
Categories:
accusingly, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Happy Birthday Delightful Daughter of the Dawn
~Designed from the embers of my mind~
Pull down the shades of your blue eyes
Drifting towards evenings soft lullabies
Supportive bunny pillow 'neath your head
A fable story that I read
Snippets of cuddling as I tucked you to bed
Moments shared stitched in my heart
Of your precious life that I did chart
You were so much older then your younger then that now
Funny shadow figures on the wall
How we made them look so tall
A puppet show outside, bay window as your stage
Until you fell and puppets accidently plunged
That expression of sheer outrage your face did engage
When your tiny head suddenly accusingly lunged
I laughed 'til I cried as I intuited your desire to expunge
You were so much older then your younger then that now
Bubble baths, Pig tails and worn melted slippers
as you sought warmth from forced hot air
On chilly mornings standing atop the simple heaters grill
As I viewed your nightgown floating up, such a thrill
Precious moments etched in time beyond compare
Simple cans for telephones with knotted plastic wires
As you and your sister shared your different desires
Embers of love that fuel my minds fires, sweetness inspires
You were so much older then your younger then that now
Pummel horse, beam, bars and floor
so many things you wanted to explore
You danced and sailed through the air
So many proud moments we got to share
Index cards for spelling bees
You were always eager to please
Snippets in time we can not freeze
Yet when they circulate from time to time
My minds eye is genuinely appeased
You were so much older then your younger then that now
~ I LOVE YOU~
Categories:
accusingly, birthday,
Form:
Lyric
I wake up in the morning
With the alarm clock going off
The Major League would hire me
If they got a look at that toss
Landing perfectly in the trash
On the other side of the room
Didn't wake up then
Till mid-afternoon
Pretty sure for certain
My boss is wondering why me he hired
On the job less than a week
And already on the verge of being fired
Forgot to pay my phone bill
So I couldn't give him a call
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
Too cheap to buy flowers
So I pick them out in left field
Right next to the honey patch
With bees munching their meals
Brought them home to my girlfriend
Who proceeded to sneeze and cough
With a case of hay fever
This didn't go over as well as I thought
Her sneezing also interrupted
The bees in the bunch
Sticking their heads out from
The middle of lunch
That's when Miss Noisy
Was repeatedly stung
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
Needing to withdraw my measly savings
I head down to the bank
Step inside and holler HOLD UP
As I was running late
All the tellers they screamed
And pointed accusingly at me
As I stood there in the middle
Of all the melee
The cops roughed me and cuffed me
And took me to jail
With no boss and no girlfriend
To pay on my bail
Now here I sit in the slammer
With no idea of how long
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
Categories:
accusingly, funny, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
Take a pure shot from where you stand
and print me just the way I am
with no added colour of admiration,
3D effects of willingness,
or glossy prints of encouraging stimulus
For where I stand,
has no milky waterfalls, nor honey forestry
but
Silky anger and honey foretaste of the sweet stress that lies ahead,
coated with muddy sand and dry season
Take a pure shot from where you stand
Please, don’t add rainbow gestures to the picture
because it’s been a while I have seen nor said hello to the vivid rainbow
This is because
the eyeglass of the lively rainbow is cracked
So it can’t see me either,
this has swallowed It’s speech
and rendered it,
emotionally heartless
I don’t blame nor judge its sudden lippy disrespect
for I know,
it doesn’t want to damage further,
blench or bleach itself into my loopy shoes
Take a pure shot from where you stand
Please, don’t print me in coloured
because I am left in a monochrome mood
wondering in an unrealized lessened globe
Take a pure shot from where you stand
don’t take the shot with the camera flash light
so that you shall have a real feel of the darkened purity,
which possesses the surrounding of where I accusingly pose
Don’t conclude my picture
or exclusively judge me as a loser
For I am not!
If you think I am,
try posing a second in my picture,
while I take the picture from where you stand
Categories:
accusingly, dedication, me, me, rainbow,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
your finger pointed
so accusingly at me
rush to make judgment
facts unknown, verdict guilty
proved you wrong, sweet victory
Categories:
accusingly, life, people, work,
Form:
Tanka
I’m tired of influencers faking nervousness.
my generation wants to care less
these days.
it’s a counter-current hack.
we want to be less defined.
we can search and reflect for ourselves.
we’re sick of the emotion
that’s all over everyone’s faces,
the unsightly splotches of opinion.
the entire election machine,
the process of getting there, is smudged.
It’s a curated mess, an advising spin,
an incomprehensible hex:
“Oh profit pondering,
contradictory means to an end
- bless weave, and conceal,
bloodless dollar debt options,
painful penny pincher paradoxes,
and deadly debt bliss dilemmas..”
“Is this a witch or an arbitrager?” Lisa asked, after rudely leaning over and reading up to this point.
“I was shooting for a numinous type of beat,” I revealed.
“We’re supposed to be working on our thesis definitions,” she said accusingly.
“Are you not challenged, here, hour by hour?” I asked sarcastically.
“I need ideas - well - I have too many ideas, I need some focus, I wanted to see what you had.”
I deadpan looked at her, “Well, you broke the spell - I lost my train.” I complained dryly.
“Don’t put me in a situation.” she said, waving my gripe off as insignificant.
.
.
Songs for this:
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
drive ME crazy! by Lil Yachty
Melt by Nilüfer Yany
Categories:
accusingly, humor, parody, political, school,
Form:
Free verse
With ear to the ground
I felt a slight tremble,
like the stir of a whispering breeze
breaking its covenant of silence.
Stoically solemn hills
partially cloaked in roaming shadows,
the sun swiftly swimming,
across the edges of dawn.
Large crackling trunks,
with gnarled limbs pointedly misshapen,
standing huddled, accusingly transfixed
against a backdrop of mangled silver.
Clouds growing grimmer shades of pale,
as they swell with sadness,
to hang forlornly
upon realization’s icy horizon.
While glass houses of man’s dreams,
reflect the barrenness of fruition,
acid tears bleaching clarity;
Leaving hazy mists
for humans to draw lines of denial,
with fingers of blame.
And nature is naught but empty ark,
grounded upon the shores of our wasteland.
For we greedily drank the waters of her womb,
swallowing whole the seeds of needed fertility.
Now a fruitless humanity remains,
spitting only salt,
into her infinitely gaping wounds.
Categories:
accusingly, nature
Form:
Free verse
Is that a moon I see,
Flickering its solitary eye down upon me.
Casting earth in the light of its mysterious glow.
Hurling shimmering rays upon the winter snow.
Is this heavenly orb some kind of monster eye.
Making me feel suddenly self-conscious and shy.
I gaze through the window sleepless in the wee hours,
Imagining myself a prisoner behind bars in medieval towers.
The sight of the imperious moonbeams shine forth accusingly;
The heartless eye stares down upon me, even if it can’t see.
Unlike the daytime sun, it casts off no bursting flares,
The light of the moon is borrowed; this is what it shares.
I get up quietly and walk to the window in bare feet;
I wrap myself up for protection in the winding sheet.
The old man of the moon once filled my childhood fantasy;
Its craggy face scares me, turning my fantasy into reality.
The twinkling stars lose their mystery, they cannot compete
With the light of the full moon whose phases are now complete.
I am a child awake in the middle of the night wishing to see;
I stare up in wonder at the blind eye looking down upon me.
In the blackness of the night, this pale barque seems to float
Ever so slowly, as in a mirage, through the heavenly moat.
They tell us in school the moon is a lifeless sliver of ancient rock.
With light obscured by earth’s shadow, but I just stand and gawk.
On that night, I simply listened; the moon had a message to tell.
With a wink, I fell down further and further into its wishing well.
It seemed like I wanted desperately to steal something away;
What’s wrong with having a little piece of the moon, just to play;
It’s only a rock, a primordial moonstone, but oh, so beautiful anyway.
Categories:
accusingly, nature,
Form:
Lyric
JUST A DROP !
Immaculate and pure.
Without blemish nor blame, only flames of beauty- which kills.
Two ripen pawpaws, sharp like the peak,
Of an hummingbird.
Her physiognomy, brooding eyes and a thin neck.
Her bewitching gap, like a termite’s.
No blemish, if any, blame the sculptor.
I begged her “Can I draw from thy well ?”
She gazed at me, paused and smiled, intentionally to kill me.
“Nay; it’s soiled.”
I pressed again, quench my thirst,my thing troubles me”
Reluctantly she answered “I am living dead,young man,GO AWAY FROM ME “
How it cuts mercilessly to my inside marrow.
Toned between tears I felt into her arms, she held me like a baby and whispered “Friend, I am rotting inside “
I mustered up my bravado , ” You are not dead , I can touch you, nI feel you. Just a drop and am done….”
She graciously warned “You are pure, don’t die soon son of my mother”
I nagged her, ”To wet my thing…which troubles me.”
When I insisted,she yielded to the calling of my ‘ other being’.
She embraced me.Our lips met in the air,
Filled with the ambience of romance…or was it infatuation?
I grabbed her madly,I held her to my tiny broad breast.
Hers heaved to and forth.
She trembled.
I died, or so I thought.
In a flash of an eye, I had traversed her well.
TO AND FRO-once and I felt contented.
CONSCIOUSLY,I gazed at her, who now lied beside me.
Accusingly I querried” What have you done? Who are you?”
She replied between sobs, “My well is contaminated. You have drawn from my well, we are dying souls.”
Before I could chip in, she added “If you die early, I promise to attend your last prayers! And if I die early, attend mine. Do you know why, Because my people will recognize you in ‘MY LIST ‘
I sort absolution from God, and comforted myself “Whoever confesses their sins, shall be forgiven “
I woke up.
Categories:
accusingly, betrayal, emotions, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
In the beginning, it was not too bad
Stay at home
Do not travel out
If you must stray, mask your identity
Distance yourself socially, seventy-two inches
An arbitrary amount
No visitors allowed
Lock your doors
My silver hair reveals my risk
Essentially, I am not needed
I am alone
It was not too bad, in the beginning
Hidden in my favorite chair with a bottomless mug at my side
My fingers flash across the keyboard
Dreaming the Great American Novel
Sans endless interruptions
Straying from favored chair to over-stuffed sofa
I binge watch romantic comedies,
(Tell no one, I plea)
and apocalyptic sagas
Until now becomes tomorrow
Potato chip dust covers my shirt
Being alone, pants are optional
Alexa serenades me with golden oldies
As I eat breakfast for supper
Meat without veggies
Chocolate morsels topping every meal
Two glasses of brandy
Shame on me
It is not too bad
Being alone
Days grow into weeks
Sunday or Monday
Who really knows?
My novel untouched, glares accusingly at the vacant chair
In my remoteness, I have misplaced the remote
No images
No sounds
Alexa left me too
My cupboard is bare
I wander out, donned in anonymity
Seventy-two inches has never looked so far
No meat
Heaps of veggies
If I must
I return Home
Carrying my bag, wearing my disguise
Shuffle, shuffle
Day seventy-two
Alone begot Loneliness
Painless labor
It was not too bad
Before
Categories:
accusingly, loneliness, lonely, longing,
Form:
Free verse
Does the realization cut you like a knife?
The realization that the dream
Has diminished like the lungs of the dying?
Alas, the dream is now festering like a blemish
Cracking like a collapsing wall
Shattering like a fallen wine glass.
Does it fill you with grief?
Does it dry like a lake in a searing land?
Dispose of itself in the back of your mind
And rot in your failure column?
Alas, the dream is gone,
Staring back at you
Accusingly, forlornly,
As it releases itself
Into the dark pits of despair.
Now it’s gone,
Now it has disappeared.
Categories:
accusingly, depression, life, loss, dream,
Form:
Free verse
Hibernating from the spring until Autumn,
who knows where, maybe under garden heaps,
now triggered as December snowflakes come,
the single glove now rouses from it's sleep.
On pavements fingers point accusingly
or maybe show places where one might slip,
one looked liked it was going to pounce on me
and hold my throat in some icy death grip.
I know it's self propelled, that I can prove,
I've gone past one and left it on the ground,
yet later walking back it's surely moved
up on a wall, near where it had been found.
On a fence post, one finger in the air
a gesture showing that it doesn't care.
Categories:
accusingly, clothes,
Form:
Sonnet