Best Antipathy Poems


Premium Member A Tapestry of Emotions

As I walk along the narrow path
Far away from the din of the city crowd
I feel the pain of sadness envelop me,
A symphony of stubborn sadness
That resides in the inner depths of my soul.

At the forest rim, a vast valley stretches.
Unknown farmers toiled on their trucks.
She will not find me at the forest’s edge.
Do I want to encounter her anew?
She is a symphony of steady, unruly moods.

I approach a farm, yet despite the summer breeze,
I find no joy nor pity, no undying love or hatred.
Sorrow lingers as indecision wrecks my peace.
I yearn for simple silence, yet in that calm around
Thoughts thunder, thriving on troubles and worry.

Can I find a warm and bright surrender to my turmoil?
My heart is like a see-saw, now up, now down.
I feel her soft lips turn into anger that knows no bounds.
What is love really like?  I want delight and happiness.
I find animosity and antipathy.  No, no.  There is also
Strong feelings of adulation, allegiance, and amity.

As fear creeps in, I knock on the farm door.
Beauty opens for my embrace.  The kiss is long.
Hope shines as we enter the warm hearth.
“Breakfast is ready, my love.”  We eat in ecstasy.

Purveyor of Ecstasy

Miles in a coaster, a day and hours elapsed, 
Felt the utmost relief when the whirling wheels halted; 
So weary and dizzy, even a smile seemed so hideous 
But an in peace slumber I desperately craved for;  	

Eyes wide-opened at the chirping of euphonious birds, 
Stirred myself with hankering for the glimpse of exquisite village,  
But still a dawn blanketed in frosty mist, sight diminished, 
I’d only steal the blurry scene of Tang valley; 

An hour after, when the glorious sun showed its perky visage,
Outside I stood relishing the splendor of the hamlet 
And savoring the icy breeze wafting underneath my nose
With succulent aroma from the Mother Nature;  

Amidst undulating hills and mountains down lay a quiet place,
So called Tang enclosed by rich vegetation and iridescent river
That embellishes the heavenly place superfluously picturesque,
Enticing all man into the blissful homeland of Tang Valley; 
 
Houses clustered and down beneath the farmyard, 
Divine school stands with its pride upheld 
And hallowed veneration anyone would esteem,
It is so-called Tang Central School elevated of late; 



Established in 1965, primary to middle since last year, 
Now shines the school proud and gratified of its new recognition
As the central school bestowed with prerogatives and autonomy, 
And concurringly, rejoicing its Golden Jubilee in eons;  

Postures upright like inert figurines in a park, 
Crescendo of unripe singsong voices spring at eight and thirty, 
Crooning the sincere words of praise and homage to Tsa-Wa-Sum 
That infuses the all hearts with never like joie de vivre;   

A trickle of erudite whizzes and astute greenhorns
Gathered deep delved into a bond of kinship with no antipathy, 	
But an unremitting fondness amongst solicitous brethren- 
A purveyor of ecstasy as its depiction I call for the beautiful home.
Form: Quatrain

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 18

I studied him, just as he studied me
I in disgust, confusion, and he in angry fantasy
His eyes, black, and yet still blackening
He embraced me with a terrible fit in his mind
Those piercing eyes, saturated in obsession,
Moving up and down my steady body
He watched as I drew in resolved breaths
Sensing my growing antipathy
Beyond the ease in my tone
He shook with want
He shook with angst

“Your dark thoughts are not hidden in my sight
This you will know by my piercing stare
There is power in words, 
Just as there is power in your glare” 

“Then breathe with me,” He sung with sting,
“And free all of your wants and cares…
Be the master of your own destiny,
And with your straying light, impair
Me, just as you impair your faith,
Against all but your own breast,
Penetrate
Seize our moments with pursed desire
Dress me in your sweet sung fire
Darling dear, our message is clear
Among this fight we share
Take a sip of my saccharine whip 
And consume the inviting dare
Be my temp as I lure you
Deceive me as I floor you
Damask me, shock me, piss on my pride,
I dare your soul to take these reigns and ride”

In my ears he sung, 
“Let us be lost together…”
Like a roaring sea trapped in a restricted bowl
Ready to overflow the moment my lips consent

“Hellbent you are,” I sadly sung
“Hellbent, and dragging all the lonely with you,
How strange we have come to these crossroads,
To test our patience with lusts unspent
Hellbent, you are, hellbent!
And yet you would croak to crush all heaven-sent
Give me into your darkness, never see the day
Follow me into the light, and never be the same!
You are my lovely enticement, oh Devil, oh Prince,
Your claws clutch in my knowing heart,
And I thrash in diffidence
Emboldening me, your lure,
The stone in you has fled
Grow in this desire, sweet wings
Your light is yet not dead”

Holding me, I felt his darkness lathering me
My eyes, my nostrils, blurred in his scent 
“Your light is yet not dead…” I whispered again
Fainting, eyes struggling to stay awake,
I clasped his shoulder and shook my head

For in his eyes he realized,
That his light was yet not dead
Form: Epic


Icons Set In Stone

How firmly they stand,
the spires of history
that no one can destroy.
What a curious melange
of hate and love
and yesterday's antipathy.
Indifferent they are,
leaving us their basic legacy-- 
shining, mocking; it is their heritage,
and the winds of change have no effect
upon a single word.

Within their shadow is enshrined,
the totality of every lie 
and every truth we ever knew.
Tread softly in their midst--
It is rarified companionship they offer.
Dare we even to essay to smooth the path
historic footsteps made, 
or cleared the way for ours?

There is no answer from the silent skies.
It is the empty flagon of serenity,
the hopeless void that stretches out forever,
calling forth the meditator to his bench,
and time to its eternal rest.
        ~

Stacking Sandbags

i stacked sandbags against the
river of your fervent woe hoping
you would stay safe and dry-
but when the tide crashed, you crashed,
and i am having a hard time letting go;
for you are the one who i wished
loved me most…
now i am utterly in love with your
cradlesong ghost

feeding love to you as you starved,
hungered and thirsted for redemption,
the kind only the Lord can bestow-
i tried hard
(too hard)
to make you believe i am the only one who
can hold you when winter frost lingers,
soft white snow sadly whispers solitude,
for you slipped right out of my 
sonorous fingers

touching antipathy,
fearing what can never be known
has become my familiar habit-
you need forgiveness
and
i need-
you

as i walk toward your grave
i feel the love you did crave;
goodbye, beloved-
you were gentle and brave

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12.2.19
Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet
Form: Verse

To Be 2d

DIMENSION CONTENTION

In the world of two dimensions
There is discord and dissension 
About what exists beyond 
The known space of which they’re fond

Some claim that’s it - just what they see
What else could there possibly be
Imagine more and you’re a dreamer
Or a superstitious schemer

You’d control the population
Giving fear of a damnation
In imaginary place
A third dimensionary space 

Then there’s those who by chance bump
Into a strange Z Axis stump
Find themselves in unknown state
Exhilarated yet distrait

In their transcendental epiphany
Seen by others with antipathy
And regarded as unstable 
Given psychiatric label

Yet others of more simple view
See their world as one way true
They’re the ones regarded dim
Branded ‘strait liners’ for their sin

So let’s congratulate ourselves
There’s no need to further delve
We know it all - every dimension
It’s all settled no contention
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member What We Have

Take the love out of poetry
and, no matter the scheme,
it will not work for me -- 
take the love out of 
relationships, and no matter
the looks, for me, the attraction
cannot be -- take the God out
of spirituality...and you have
taken Heaven from the Heaven
or Hell dichotomy -- and what
is left?! What we have...a world
of strife and antipathy.
© Joe Dimino  Create an image from this poem.

God Sent These Words

GOD SENT THESE WORDS!
The most omnipotence felt by humanity is via the passion of God.
He has sent the flood of natural disaster.
The rain came so great that guises praised his name.
Never another fascia would exist within this nation.

The wrath of God was due to disbelief.
The people had sin throughout eternity.
However, this was not the cause of God’s rage.
His antipathy came forth from the lack of faith.

The lightning strikes and the thunder shook.
The populace sheltered themselves.
Everyone listen to the voice of the Almighty God through the trees lachrymose as they tumbled.

What a lesson taught by God and if not learnt, you have not gotten your house in order.
Friends and families support is crucial.
God sent these words to all living creatures.
Adhere to be save!
__________________________|
Penned On September 20,2014!
Form: Epic

Born To Dance

I danced a dance, not danced before,
the masses beamed in admiration.
Flames of passion slid along the dance floor,
as my body floated like a possessed butterfly.

But the gingerbread people, old, fat and fickle,
pointed fingers asking for me to dance no more!
Their envious eyes burned with jealousy,
as they were incapable of coping with my fire.
Afraid I would pour hot water on them,
they began to shun me against the masses.
The ignorant followed suit, but the dancers knew better.

Hypocritical gingerbread people then began to dance,
their moves had no co-ordination, no rhythm,
it was sadly a pathetic display of imbecilic prancing!
The masses laughed and mocked, poor hypocrites,
crumbling gingerbread', crumbled into pieces,
their taste so sour, crowds puked with antipathy!

Hypocrites still try to dance today,
guess practice makes perfect - right?
I continue to dance my dance,
in a rainbow of styles, bringing delight.

When you are born to dance,
the heart will make those feet move!!
Form: Ballad

The Hyper-Logos of Good Living

The Hyper-Logos of Good Living  

A poem about how to live a more balanced and harmonious life inspired by Ancient Greek Wisdom

Avoid being vicious and malevolent,
Instead, be magnanimous and benevolent.
Express, in myriad ways, your goodness
And be polemic and quixotic in your kindness.

Let your friendship be all-encompassing and egregious,
And incite your gentleness to be ongoing and ubiquitous.
Be laconic in speaking and attentive in listening
While adamant in pursuing truth and love expressing.

Do not let other passers-by in your life enervate you,
Making you expend your time and energy in ephemeral efforts.
Pray to Benevolent God, Almighty to exculpate you,
Making you remove your human passions and tribulations.

Live your life in a way, quite humble and ascetic,
Avoiding all expressions of senseless acrimony.
Never be a bitter character and sour acerbic,
Choose instead, sweetness and melodious harmony.

Replace your human soul’s traits of cacophony 
With our only God’s manifestations of clemency.
Do not employ, ever, credulity
Nor overdue, futile cupidity.

On reaching old age, strive not to be an anathema
But instead, a councelor, like the ancient Athena.
Drive yourself away from social antipathy
With the greatest value of alacrity.

Always taking into deep consideration the following 2 things:
1. The concept of ‘Hyper-logos’ defines the holistic integration of the Aristotelian aspects of Ethos (Character), Pathos (Emotions) and Logos (Logic, Reasoning, Accountability, Responsibility) in conducting one’s own affairs in life; and 
2. The following wise sayings of the ancient Greeks: 
Democritus: ‘It is an act of magnanimity for someone to withstand vicious acts with humility and gentleness’.
Pythagoras: ‘Seek the true value of all things, and enjoy all gifts of God according to Measure’.
Form: Ballad

Vale of Tears

Souls in fear of uncertain but rampant chaos, 
Where the cities bombed and thousands slayed, 
Houses broken and the valuable coffers emptied, 
Innocents trafficked and the felony at rise, 
Commoners conned and the power misused- 
The Almighty! Where is the peace you promised? 
For love debasing and wars right at the door,
Infected minds with greed and hatred at dispersal, 
Altruism waning and egoism the victorious devil, 
Compassion at stake and bliss only a wistful wish, 
But antipathy even amongst the esteemed bloods, 
Soulless and callous, havens blemished with vices
And enmity on the rise as the blazing fire- 
God! Where is the peace prayed for everyday?
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Lonely Mortality

Like fragranced flowers soon will lose their smell
and colors fade from red to light pastel,
my body, now, will rot awaiting hell
as those I love have proffered to foretell.

Yet love is but a moments fleeting gift.
In passion’s heat it purges heart and soul
and in the end it leaves our mind adrift
too weak in lust to understand the toll.

So let the flames consume the mortal me,
no mourners at my grave to cry or grieve,
nor loss to life, my end could ever be,
with final breath, I’ll rise and quiet leave.

When gone, you see, is your antipathy,
pray not for me I need no sympathy.


10/21/2017

Mandela In You

Mandela In You


I scanned into your entire writ
I perceived an unremitting wit;
There’s a Mandela in You,
Oozing from your daring script;

Loaded with a spirit of sacrifice
To eradicate mundane malice
There’s a Mandela in You,
That resonates in your artifice!

A Fighter for Mankind’s thrall,	
Equality for gender and for all
There’s a Mandela in You
Reprimanding: Divided We Fall!

Peace is in your daring hand
Which you staunchly defend
For, Mandela in You says
“No to Civil Wars in our Land!”

Women also need their space
Enough to powder their face
There’s a Mandela in You
Lending impetus to their pace!

Antipathy, aloud do denigrate
Which Warmongers do initiate
There’s a Mandela in You,
With a smile that doesn’t fail;

It intones when Spirit is weary
Shining when the Sky is dreary
There’s a Mandela in You
Painting Blue the Sky so bleary!

Write, write, your mantra write
Let revulsion be in your write	
For, there’s a Mandela in You
Pleading for Humanity to Unite!

Dedicated to Zimbabwean Poet, Wilson Mapfumo upon being inspired by his Poem: Cry Africa.

JM

14th Oct’ 2013
Form: Rubaiyat

Bitter Fruit



Taste the hate,
the poisonous juice from the bitter fruit
Evil seeds
being spit out of the mouth,
deadly wormwood desires formed at the root
Chew the rancid leaves of seethe
growing on the bigot tree;
hallucinate on the hate,
conversion of impure energy, 
flowing angrily thru the bloodstream
Bitter fruit ripening on the bigotry,
pulpy prejudice ready for the fear harvest
Taste the hate,
the insidious ill-flavor of antipathy
Incestuous Klan anger is a Cain sugar power rush;
genetic mingling ... 
social diversity is to some ethnic loathsome
Colorful branches 
which need to be pruned and burned
Bite into the blood-red apple skin
of eugenic cleansing
Peel away the yellow jaundiced veneer
of a brutish banana attitude ... 
watermelon torture mental binge-ing
Gorge on the sickly sweet fleshy toxic tissue
Taste the cluster of hate,
the bitter wrath from the grim reaper grapes
Feast on the assorted wicked fruits,
budding on the bigotry,
growing wildly in the soulless sour-patch grove
Bigotry got vile bark that covers a rotten heart,
nestled near the bubbling brimstone brook
Sulfuric tributary streaming from a fiery judgment lake — 
that dreaded secret place where only God knows 
Come taste the coconut hate,
drink deep the milk of hostility
The bitter fruit juices that you ingest
gonna give your spirit hate cancer ultimately ...
As you worry each morning,
whether vanilla and cocoa beans
were mixed together in your sin bought coffee

What If Thanksgiving Celebrated 365 Days a Year Part I

an earlier draft of this barely satisfactory missive ex post facto, i chomped asper with upper dentures upon evincing a couple of typographical errors, in up rye or draft, and did not wanna dodge being a spell bound stickler for typing words correctly. 

though no obligation to trot out this fixation sans zero misspelling tolerance, a compulsion with any concomitant obsession found me reposting before a repast of dessert - so there Ghost of Marie Antoinette, wherever you might be hiding - i can have my cake and eat it too!

Minus trimmings and over stuffed ego freezers, 
but altruism, civility, Dharma bum ethnocentrism, 
gratuitous homogeneous internationalism, 
karma mosaic opportunism, quitessential righteousness, 
unpretentious vivacious wide world yipping,

brouhaha dutifully emphasizing friendliness, 
antithetically booing critical, popularly pugnacious 
spoiled trump petting uber western yikyak, 
zealous antipathy craving everything. 
---------------------------------------------------------
a hypothetical, mental, rhetorical thought question 
   occurred to me just moments ago
sans, milk of human kindness bubbles frothily 
   upon major American holiday, 

   whereat figurative bro
   thar and sisters exhibit philanthropic 
   good-samaritan charitable ambitions 
   especially, towards indigent that crow
for bare necessities

   other than 
   when Thanksgiving rolls around, and dough
nuts to dollars even most frugal misanthropes 
   play feigned charitable card egoistically glow
with ambient benevolence, civility, 
   diligent energy, and friendly hello

and sundry pleasant greetings 
   hook hood be some 
   soon tubby rich entrepreneurial stranger 
   ready to make shares available vis a vis  IPO
Form: Epic

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