Best Appalls Poems
There’s no decorum or respect
Within the White House walls
And cameras let us witness
Some behavior that appalls.
Invite a foreign dignitary
Then berate, insult, accuse –
That’s the playbook for a bully
Desperate to be in the news.
Why would any other country,
After seeing that display,
Send a leader, knowing he or she’d
Be treated in that way?
Every day brings more examples
Of outrageousness and shock
Which, at one time, simply seemed like
Acts of bluster we would mock.
But the stakes have gotten higher
And if all the guardrails fail,
Someday writing such a poem just might
Have me end up in jail.
Categories:
appalls, anger, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme
I prowl the days within myself
To heal these battle scars
But days at times unwrapps itself
With binding sturdy bars.
That holds me back from freedom's grace
From the man I'd hoped to be
Often scans my troubled face
In search of empty glee.
All my days since life begun
The constant fight appalls
Often glows what strength has won
Behind these prison walls.
Categories:
appalls, emotions, feelings, slavery,
Form:
Rhyme
When history someday recalls
Behavior that simply appalls
They just have to reach
Those we chose to impeach
To see some who defy protocols.
Yet the record of Senate near-brawls
Will have info that sometimes enthralls
Such as votes that got split
Like the one in which Mitt*
Proved a pol in his party had balls!
*Mitt Romney, the only Republican
who voted to remove Trump from office
Categories:
appalls, political,
Form:
Limerick
Excitement is brewing for the play-off game,
who to claim a podium close-up fame,
winner of 2018 21st FIFA World Cup's name.
Scheduling and planning their dream
to cheer on their favorite team.
Fans at the game watching united,
dressed in their lucky sports team attire, delighted,
cold, getting rained on, and excited.
Television armchair football enthusiast
muttering, "C-o-o-l call. Revenge at last."
He follows every move, wishing he was there,
but at home watching on his big screen, a bear.
Everyone in the stadium is bouncing off the walls,
inspiring cheers and rants, raves and calls.
While the Armchair enthusiast with his own calls,
within his walls his soul appalls.
The hero standing in the middle of a melee, with a thin
breeze around the football field, using a Cruyff Turn spin,
then brilliantly threading the ball home winning
the World Cup for his country. It’s only the beginning.
6/25/2018
The championship has been awarded every four years since the inaugural tournament in 1930 for except in 1942 and 1946 when it was not held because of the Second World War, a global war that lasted from 1939 to 1945.
Poetry Contest: 2018 World Cup
Sponsored By: Mark Toney
Categories:
appalls, football,
Form:
Rhyme
POEM
Title: Broken
I was wrong,
So wrong that it hurts,
So wrong that it burns,
And the reason is difficult to discern,
We mathematically solved to get love in return
But lost is what we earned.
I'm Broken inside,
Is it something to abide?
Let put it aside,
Our misunderstanding,
Our conflicts,
Our arguments,
Your fear plus my fear,
Equivalent to my tears,
While I'm sad,
Feeling bad,
Can we knit a happy end?
You love me but you push me away,
You want me but you never stay,
You always leave and do the same with the key,
And it appalls me,
Let's put a halt to this,
Because it's completely at the deadlock.
I don't know what to think anymore,
This feeling is something I abhor,
Intensionally pushing my heart below the floor,
The clock is telling me to raise my white flag,
I think it's time for myself to admit...
I'm tired.
15 fights a night,
Broken glasses, shattered windows,
Slatted doors,
Broken locks, smashed phones,
Scattered home, different tones,
Me pretending to be ok again,
You pretending to love me again,
It's not the way we want it,
Now it's better we stop it,
I'm cracking,
I'm already broken,
I don't want those pieces of me to be broken,
Love was something strong we bestowed,
But has now turned into ashes and desert like the Amazon forest,
Just let me go on,
Before I burn too.
__________________________________________
Writer/Artist
© Artistic Poet????
Categories:
appalls, 12th grade, break up,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I
Hear the bouncing of the balls--
Basketballs!
What a sound of merriment they cause when each ball falls!
How they echo, echo, echo,
Inside the gymnasium walls,
Arriving at a crescendo
While the spectators shout “Bravo!”
Drowning the referee’s calls;
And the players start
To make their last dart
Amidst the reverberation ricocheting off the stalls
From the balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
From the bouncing and the dribbling of the balls.
II
Hear the ticking of the balls,
Ping-pong balls!
What a soft and easy sound comes from their bounce and rolls!
In the crowded room that’s bright
How they fill it with delight!
Like the ticking of a clock,
Steady but fast,
Or the picking of a lock,
What tune they make with their ceaseless tick-tock,
Until at last--
Oh, what a miss that appalls
The audience that has remained speechless in the halls
How it falls!
How it scrolls!
And the erring player rolls
His fists at his own pitfalls
By the swinging and his missing
To hit the balls, balls, balls
The balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
To hit the light and small and saffron ping-pong balls!
III
Hear the loud thud of the balls--
Volleyballs!
What feeling of suspense is caused by their great falls!
Across the nets stretched tight
How they gracefully take flight!
The watchers anticipating,
Who would win they keep waiting,
Breathlessly.
Until the umpire from his platform blows a long shrill whistle,
And the balls drop on the ground like useless heads of missile.
Then tempers start to bristle
In the air there is a rustle
From both player and spectator
To win the set or never
Hold the trophy covetously.
Oh, the balls, balls, balls--
"Pick them up!" the umpire bawls.
Once again
The balls are hit, tossed, and passed
And the game goes on full blast
While the players on each side dare not complain
Yet the audience fully knows
By the spiking
And the digging
How the game would sooner close.
Who would be covered in palls
Suffer beating,
‘Cause of losing,
And forced to receive catcalls
For dismally failing to score and keep afloat the balls,
The volleyballs--
The volleyballs, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
In the scrambling and the spiking of the balls!
March 18, 2023
Categories:
appalls, 11th grade, basketball, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Fast as an atomic banshee, he roils sacred halls
of White House clutches levers with brass balls
American powers remain unrestrained when he calls
Armada to exorcise imagine aery dragons,
he inarticulately falls
non-communicative, faux eruditely generative,
and heartily galls
toward this introspective kickstarter male,
and most likely others he appalls.
-------------------------------------------------
My inner guru hankers to share voice
amidst increasing din
and clamors in reaction to insidious machinations fin
hushed via Machiavellian offal prince,
who unleashes clout with Cheshire grin
unconcerned about population, chaste,
from their wells Fargo wing.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Most every citizen banker, and kin
stared down vis a vis fierce-some intimations
catapult escalating, spin
laughing at rigged voting outlook
gratefully inflicts populace with monstrous win
doomsday soldiers -
art of the deal book not writ by said urchin.
-------------------------------------------------
Though regularly affiliated with top notch
kudos to virtual soapbox platform
re: all poetry to express Bing averse
toward ill feted Barron settlement
of United States government tossed like scotch
on thar hocks, thus an uneasy angst
also invisibly grabs me by the crotch
cuz das Trump power monger,
I fear rubric of democracy, he will botch!
-------------------------------------------------
This poem alternately titled -
harbinger of political debacle wolf find antipode
where toxic brew at crack of 12 a.m.
January 20th 2017 doth bode
doctored pregnant swollen tidal anarchistic military toad
deeds sheepishly shape into battalions
in tandem - fraternal order of police erode
Civilian protesters unite with ordinary citizen bankers
crowdsource sing metallic ca clash to goad
Categories:
appalls, anger, angst, evil, humanity,
Form:
5/4/17
Objects sinking or floating
Whether dim or glowing
Grasses being cut or growing
Waters drying up or flowing
The air calm or a breeze showing
Lifeforms slowing then stopping or still going
And rowing
You're either out the loop or knowing
I'm serious not joking
Small or tall
None, half or all
Without any framing, or setup with walls
Going high speeds or at a crawl
Trying to diffuse the situation or about to brawl
It fascinates or appalls
No contact or some kind of a call
Continual progress or at a stall
*****Sapiens or Neanderthal
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
appalls, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
The Dead, Dying... Death
The visitor that appalls
Even when foreseen
Categories:
appalls, dark, death, sad,
Form:
Haiku
Icy northwesterly winds whip
Like a buggy whip cracks,
Hurrying the horses along
Dragging winter on its back.
Green leaves battered to the brown earth
Instant early death befalls.
Tender young fruit most likely gone
Spring unsettled appalls.
Unfinished
Categories:
appalls, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
A spider was climbing my walls,
The size of it truly appalls,
I’m certain it’s a lass,
With a kardashian a ss,
I couldn’t spy male spider balls!
I shouted for my hubby to come,
He gasped at that huge spiders bum,
But my old Henry hoover,
Just couldn’t remover her,
I’m screaming Help I want my mum!
My p ussy cat eyed up the spider,
She wanted this beastie insider her,
Huge spider is walking,
Cat’s expert at stalking,
She corners it by my step strider
As Tiddles is superb at pouncing,
That spider got a severe trouncing,
And now it is dead,
What more can be said,
The death of spider I’m announcing
For Julie thanks for the inspiration. bb xx
09/02/11/
Categories:
appalls, humorous, insect,
Form:
Limerick
Go not into the room beyond these walls
where some have gone, for mystery enthralls
the curious. . . but know there lies therein
a spirit cursed who suffers no chagrin,
who propagates the murder he recalls.
For when the moon is full and evening falls,
a din perhaps is heard. . .The phantom hauls
a corpse along the floor while moon peeps in.
Go not into the room.
They say when one goes in, that demon calls
the name of the intruder; then befalls
a likely death. . . he’s never seen again.
The ghost stands at the window with a grin,
a sight of unrepentance that appalls.
Go not into the room.
Categories:
appalls, mysterymoon,
Form:
Rondeau
My morning walk is sandwiched
‘Tween the river and the road
And I’ve seen a homeless guy there
With a tent as his abode.
Several others sleep on benches
And one slumbers on the ground,
Yet since yesterday a couple
On a mattress can be found.
They were curled up under covers
With no pillows and no sheets
Underneath a concrete overpass
Connecting to the streets.
Though at night it must be private,
In the early morning sun
They were there on view for exercisers
Out to walk or run.
Most just gave a glance and passed them
But I couldn’t help but muse
How they wound up on that mattress,
Not a “bedroom” one would choose.
Life is sometimes cruel and heartless,
Filled with status that appalls
And I felt for that poor couple
Who, at least, deserved some walls.
Categories:
appalls, life, morning, new york,
Form:
Rhyme
What do you want from me?
A good name?
Like a name that inspires awe?
Like a name that inspires loyalty?
Like a name that inspires reverence?
Or a good name?
Of the average Joe?
Of a fit-the-box leader?
Of the little fence-sitting man?
Well, I don’t want it
Take it for yourself
I don’t want to be dulled?
To be liked by all
I don’t want to be enslaved to mediocrity
To be nobody at all
I can properly standout,
With a small offence to the average mind
With a minor sin that the newly adept appalls
With crime committed mostly in private by most
But judged harshly when seen in public by some hypocrites,
I can properly standout and be greater
With that which the majority can’t do
Not caring so much the consequences to the ego
I might incur when I fail
Choosing to do very well what all others do normally,
I’ll be remembered by many
Because those who are envious of me
Will remain obsessed with my courage
Talk about me for attention
But I will be remembered
But a good name? I don’t want it.
Categories:
appalls, philosophy,
Form:
Blank verse
Behind the walls I hear the sound
Of someone’s loud TV.
I’m rarely in this room, by day,
So it won’t bother me.
But it reminds me that we live
Connected, side by side,
With only hints of others’ lives
That snatches do provide:
A glimpse of furniture, perhaps,
A smattering of noise;
But not enough to clue us in
To problems or to joys.
Paul Simon said it best, that
One man’s ceiling’s someone’s floor
And often, of our neighbors,
We learn not a whole lot more.
So all we really know about
The folks behind the walls
Is likely to intrigue us
Just as much as it appalls.
Categories:
appalls, home, people,
Form:
Rhyme