Best Acrimonious Poems
Her persona is like
a portrait
of picturesque perfection,
embalmed in
bittersweet lavender,
unseen within depths
of tributaries of elixir.
If only they knew
the chaos that flows,
constrained in
a confined
gallery of grief.
Not everyone is
a master painter.
Some brush with brutal
bruised strokes,
provoking timeless
streams of
implicit secrets,
from crimson stains
on ivory satin,
where scents of juniper
evoke phases of
unpredicted phenomenons,
oblivious to chronicles
of forsaken tales,
which hide
beneath barriers,
many have struggled
to venture within.
But there is an artist
with a
pastel on his palette,
that can correct
her disfigured pigment.
He holds cryptic
calligraphic engravings,
veiled behind the inflamed
chamber of her heart.
He understands that her
spirit drowns when
winds are forceful.
How her
delicateness has
been sleeping
on withered roses,
wilted by
cruelest rays of a
summer
mourning
morning star,
Where bedtime stories
were puppeteered
by hurricanes
feeding on
fenceless vulnerabilities.
yet when
sleepless silence sings,
it can disturb
in reverberating
heavy metal screams.
So she echoes her trauma
through hurtful hisses,
poisoning with
vicious venom.
Her aura alters in
acrimonious attitudes
from serene sunshine
to furious gales.
She remains without
a grip on untamable
seasons of
unholy torture,
Only he knows the poem
in her eyes is the
last train home,
so he calms her
tempest temperament,
enabling hidden rainbows
in her mind to reappear.
He is a soothing
gemini night-flower,
even with outcries
of midnight thunder,
his patience resembles
raining jasmine water,
purifying
her murky waters,
into a crystallised milky-way
of kyanite desires,
guiding her
to swirl and swoon
into
whirlwinds of closure.
I always feel hungry
yet dare not complain
it may set a precedent,
believing I am the fodder
the factory keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The Radio talkback show tells us,
“No one wants insecurity anymore.”
Yet the conglomerates give no guarantee
no “Job for life”
Only a life! For a job.
Perhaps security is with the power
of the poppy or cocoa leaf?
So far, I’ve been lucky
I’ve found my comfort zone
this side of life.
So! Do not weep for me
for I breathe the fragrance of innocence,
my mind remains only
a fragment of intellect,
my musing will never make poem of the day
when my world one of such simplicity.
Yet I see mankind bemused,
multitudes from all walks of life
programmed as corn in the meadow
swaying to a acrimonious breeze,
before being judged within a
clockwork frame, with hearts
that beat in caustic chests.
Frail bodies embraced with wretched minds
tolerance etched upon stark faces,
their promised land dangled upon
the filament of dreams,
while calculated scenarios
bombard their unswerving ambience.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Aspiration
Antoine had crashed once again when tempting the desert
Freedom fighter laureate poet daredevil testing the call of
~ Poisonous Times ~
A mysterious man and rebellious philosopher with script on his
tongue ink on soft paper Rose in his heart and yearning for
~ Cleopatra’s Eyes ~
A snake of fertile creation and healing never far from his pen
Aesculapius in coil had mutated to SS wound around torches’
~ Venomous Bite ~
Aspides’s toxic fangs a spitting image of denial with thick scales
covering eyes of horned vipers hiding or shielding from attack
~ Dependent on Choice ~
The piloting scribe aspired towards kind compassionate words
As the elephant was swallowed by a boa constrictor clothed in a sad
~ Hatter’s Distortion ~
Antoine got killed on reconnaissance’s flight over France shot down or
by just letting go of throttle and misery but the Little Prince and his
~ Wisdom Remains ~
Avoiding slithering hisses in what remains of paradise an auspice
of sloughing what needs to be shed emerged from warrior’s asps in
~ Blossoming Hope ~
When threatened by serpent’s pitiless pits with no parachute attached
Peace can be found and acrimonious asperity relieved one small step in
~ Narration and Truth ~
29th April 2018
have you ever heard the devil whisper in your ear?
the acrimonious voice instilling guilt and fear
a satanic chauvinist who cherry picks your thoughts
as you abdicate morality for something you should not
have you ever felt a choke while you were asleep?
fighting unseen forces that often made you weak
have you ever tried to kill yourself and shove a knife in the belly of your gut?
have you ever heard the murmuring of the crowd whispering "youre nuts"?
have you ever watched the news and seen death and destruction?
realizing human sacrifices still exists relating child abductions
the devil plays his part in the abattoir of the human mind
but within this construct of our reality his powers are undefined
his deception and his manipulative motive is to abscond from the truth
but to clarify his powers is to expose him using proof
he has thwarted love in many ways and conquered the weakest soul
he has recruited wicked men to join his bilious abode
have you ever walked the potters field and felt the presence of those who relinquished the light?
have you ever heard the breath of disembodied spirits feasting in the night?
have you ever seen a ghostly figure like your eyes was glazed with smoke?
have you ever swallowed pride and felt like you would choke?
have you ever wondered why people pull the trigger and slice their loved ones throats?
its the sacrifice to the devil insted of sacrifices goats!
have you ever blamed a creator for the mistakes that you made?
and turned your back on him for every losing game you played
knowing the devil is complicated to understand
because no one knows what its like to be a bad man
I'm nestled in daydreams, safely tucked in a halcyon haven
away from the stress that greedily feasts on me like a raven
My Utopian realm offers a peaceful kingdom; a sanctuary
where there is no arguing with any acrimonious adversary
I take flight to a lowland vale, with gardens in full bloom
safe from life's burdens, as if I'm still inside my natal womb
Fields of wildflowers and carpets of moss are my landscape
Orchard of grape vines and a citrus grove is where I escape
Showers and sunshine are nuanced in my Eden of tranquility
I live harmoniously with forest animals in absolute affability
Blue skies brighten every day, darkening to indigo each night
Wrapped in my lover's arms, beneath stars and soft moonlight
l live in a multi-level tree house, sprawled in a stand of pine
My neighbors are feral mustangs; a roaming herd of equine
I built a porch that overlooks the view of my pastoral land
watching eagles as they hunt and soar with feathers fanned
I watch each stained glass sunrise as it surfaces from the sea
and each sunset, when dusk paints pastels with grand esprit
No fence surrounds my oasis, no flashing lights or blaring horns
and I've hybridized my roses, so no longer do they have thorns
There's some sanctity to be found in a divine place like this
One of spiritual symbiosis and a bounty of benevolent bliss
There's no known place on Earth where everyone gets along
but in my sanctum, no one ever tells me I'm too headstrong
I long for a refuge where I can take ample time to just relax
where I'll not be faced with the entity of fear, called parallax
When fire storms of frustration blaze much too high to douse
I'll be daydreaming while climbing the stairs to my tree house
August 18th, 2020
Sanctuary Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent On
Howling winds flung me into the sea
waves lashed kelp ropes around me
my belligerence grew when I was seized
anger brewed the tighter they squeezed
With fists raised and teeth clenched
I resisted the harder they wrenched
voice rang out in acrimonious scream
my face contorted, wild eyes agleam
spittle dribbled from cracked lips
I neared the verge of sanity's eclipse
Man is but an elfin grain of sand
a mortal never has the upper hand
when wrangling with a sea of thunder
I was punished and plowed asunder
beneath coral reefs to ocean's floor
I cursed until I could no more
My swearing wails echoed my destiny
retched was my body from an angry sea
briny foam spit me on the rocky shore
done with me like an oft beaten whore
My crime was that I'd chosen wrong
the one I loved became my swan song
Piercing needles of torrential rain
burning injections increased the pain
Such bitter tea the cruel sea can steep
and I, a crumpet, tossed in restless sleep
Howling winds flung me into the sea
waves lashed kelp ropes around me
my belligerence grew when I was seized
anger brewed the tighter they squeezed
With fists raised and teeth clenched
I resisted the harder they wrenched
voice rang out in acrimonious scream
my face contorted, wild eyes agleam
spittle dribbled from cracked lips
I neared the verge of sanity's eclipse
Man is but an elfin grain of sand
a mortal never has the upper hand
when wrangling with a sea of thunder
I was punished and plowed asunder
beneath coral reefs to ocean's floor
I cursed until I could no more
My swearing wails echoed my destiny
retched was my body from an angry sea
briny foam spit me on the rocky shore
done with me like an oft beaten whore
My crime was that I'd chosen wrong
the one I loved became my swan song
Piercing needles of torrential rain
burning injections increased the pain
such bitter tea, the cruel sea can steep
I, a crumpet, tossed in restless sleep
Words are for communication so we know someone's there.
To help us understand the weight our brothers have to bear.
With emptiness behind a mask that tells a silent tale.
Communication lets us break outside this solemn jail.
The winds of change can rearrange a heart inside a soul.
And gently blow away the ash of acrimonious coal.
That feeds the fires that boiled the blood that takes it's wicked toll.
And in it's place forgiveness lives to help us become whole.
Pain is not as hard to bear when love picks up the pieces.
Someone to share and help us bear these worldly loads increases.
When the end comes round the bend, our wings will spread out wide.
To fly away to heavens gate to live where no one died.
Skeletal fingers of the past
reach to grab my psyche;
childhood specters enmeshed
in the shadows that
probe my inner child’s
nightmares.
Strains of melancholy
impress upon the page,
a lost youth.
Time’s acrimonious
stampede has
trampled beloved memories,
I thought I’d locked away
in my mind-attic.
Written: May 25, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Silent One
2nd place contest winner
*************************
Quote: "Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” — By Rumi ( With my honest wishes of a long and healthy life— Very Happy Birthday.
The moon still glows—an alabaster flame,
memory’s mirror, never the same.
Spume drifts, shimmering and bright,
not shadowy, but limpid light.
You watch sunsets and softly muse—
Do you fade, or do you fuse?
Their shades shroud loss and gain,
a peculiar parity of pleasure and pain.
Lessons grasped don’t be acrimonious,
regrets mollified primarily harmonious.
Time’s conundrum teaches clear—
Delicate days are a deep fear.
To your tender time, you’d tell and attire,
Beware quixotry, yet seize the desire.
Do not anathemize your fall—
Failure’s anodyne heals all.
Though tristful shadows at times prowl,
still you liaise with joy, still you howl.
Twilight or dawn, the soul’s refrain—
amaranthine light will remain.
History has often shown, that with acumen,
the sword pales in comparison to a Poet’s pen!
It cuts, not as does the sword forged from steel,
but with a piercing words, a conscience can feel!
With subterfuge and sweetness, it can hide
the acrimonious jealousy that may reside
within the soul of a scurrilous deviant poet.
Chances are, being well disguised, few know it!
A poet’s words can lull a fretful babe to sleep,
or move a Nation to mourn and weep.
Whilst those who seek ill deeds to conceal,
will discover his words will oft reveal
the bribery and corruption they’d committed.
Poetic licence, with words carefully submitted,
awards a poet the freedom, no sword is allowed,
as he subtlety sets out to sway an angry crowd.
The pen, oft proves a deadly weapon indeed.
Expertly wielded, a tender heart can bleed,
but used with reckless abandon? Of it beware,
for this deadly weapon, is beyond compare!
Rhymer. November 12th, 2016.
Putrid pus proliferates/purposely preventing
progression's passionate plea -
stifled cries...
Always ascending...and, assiduously avoiding
any acrimonious amounts accrued along apathetic
apertures..."Still I Rise!"
Incessantly fighting the urge to just drop
out of this rancid Rat Race we call living
Still, to abandon sanguine thoughts totally topples the
tenacious toughness that took time to temper...never stop giving
Enervated entities economically embattled
Man, each day we face trouble/In every Third World A Struggle -
singed and burned I'm like stubble/but, like The Ashes Of The Phoenix
to Resurrect from this rubble
Sometimes I shift towards arrogance; The Good Lord Keeps
me humble
Lifting languid limbs loftily to overcome this present Flood
Be Positive is my motto, the flip side?
It's my Blood...
B+
love
devoted, affectionate
adoring, cherishing, loving
attraction, passion, bitterness, animosity
despising, loathing, hurting
acrimonious, abhorrent
hate
11~-7~14
Diamante Contest
Sponsored by Regina Riddle
~awarded 1st place~
Later she would look back and see
the cracks that were now obvious.
How blind she once had been
in the throngs of her passion.
Twenty years of his affairs
his lies, and his betrayal.
Yet it was only by chance
that she had found out.
Out for lunch one day
she saw him at the back,
with a lovely young woman.
He was engrossed in her.
Their body language intense
she could see the hot flames.
Following when they left
she saw them enter the hotel.
Sicken to her very core
she went home and paced.
Then set his clothes on fire
gleefully watching them burn.
When he saw the flames
he knew the game was up.
He raced to try to save things
Yelling out you crazy *****.
Then a loud screech of tires
he drove off rubber burning.
As for her, the flush of triumph
soon faded leaving her drained.
The divorce was acrimonious
the final judgement in her favour.
He now learned the hard lesson
never cross or scorn a woman.
Diamonds, rubies, and amethysts danced last night in my dreams,
Beautiful, sparkling gifts from my husband that were supreme.
For 30 years each custom piece was planned by him with care,
And when he surprised me with it I thought I was walking on air.
I remember each piece he gave to me and the occasion.
Our anniversary, birthday, and Christmas was a big celebration.
They were wonderful years, but the marriage did not last.
We lost that perfect love that had been unsurpassed.
The split was acrimonious, and it became the divorce from hell.
Everything had to be divided, and my jewelry I was forced to sell.
The day I brought all my jewelry to be sold I did not shed a tear
For all the pieces given to me with love I held so dear.
When I left my wedding ring that day, I felt lost and forsaken.
But I have thought very little since about my jewelry that was taken.
It is over and done, and I have tried to put it behind.
But I awakened with tears on my pillow, thinking of a gift so kind.
One Christmas Eve he gave me a gorgeous diamond heart necklace.
When I saw it I was in awe and breathless.
It made me cry in my dream to see the love in his eyes.
His excitement and joy was worth far more than the prize.