Best Backbiting Poems
(I think this is how Robert Lindley will reply, if at all...)
I wonder why you'd hate me,
Maybe because I'm kindly,
But you don't irritate me,
I will not judge you blindly...
You can't stop me from writing,
I won't stoop to distress you,
I forgive your backbiting,
And just say, "May God bless you!"
11/22/17
Contest: Judgmental people and haters
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
(Those who know Robert Lindley can vouch for his kindheartedness, friendliness and encouraging words to everyone.... And those who hate him, I can only say, "The loss is yours".)
Categories:
backbiting, dedication, forgiveness, hate,
Form:
Rhyme
There are a lot of word Smiths on this site
Who pen good poems that are out of sight
Its likened to attending a beautiful feast
Or eating good bread with just enough yeast
However, I must point out, and it's not a myth
I am in no way, shape, or form a word, Smith
But, I marvel at the talented people here
Viewing their various poems fills me with cheer
I am forever thankful I found Poetry Soup
This community is such a fantastic group
Finding the gift of words saved my life
It rescued me from heartache and strife
So, although I don’t cross every “ T” nor;
Do I dot every “I” writing means much more
I know some could care less about my poetry
It’s ok, well all have different tastes, you see
However, we must respect one another
By not saying nasty things to each other
Isn’t this lovely site about sharing poetry?
The backbiting needs to stop; It’s no mystery
Amid a few bad apples on this amazing site
This will always be a place for me to write
Alexis Y.
08/18/2022
Categories:
backbiting, appreciation, poetry, words,
Form:
Rhyme
I awaken from my sleep one morning
In search of poor old me
Where have I gone?
Where shall I be?
I walked over to the mirror and
I couldn't believe my eyes
There stood a selfish woman
With unspeakable pride
I went in the living room and
Jealously walked out of the kitchen
Something is terribly wrong; because
Hate was washing the dishes
I went in the bathroom
I just knew I was in the tub
I raised the shower curtain and
Stupid was making suds
I said excuse me Mr., Stupid
I am in search of me
I have been looking and looking
But where I am, I cannot see
He said did you look in the closet
You are sure to find you there
Among all the clothes, the glare,
And the heart that just don’t care
I know I am in here somewhere
But where can I be?
So much stuff in the way
My eyes find it hard to see
Somewhere in the den I saw
Crazy hanging from the wall
And envy danced a jig
Walking down the hall
Judging sat on the sofa
Making a phone call
While peace breaker laugh
And had himself a ball
My head hung in shame
No wonder I am lost
Backbiting sat in the corner
Eating cinnamon apple sauce
Oh my God! No wonder
My search is in vain
No wonder I am hid and
Can’t find a thing
I started out this morning
In search of me
Never thought I would find
So much junk to see
Now that I know what
It takes to clear the air
Seven days a week in
My life will be PRAYER!!!!
Categories:
backbiting, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Silence is my native tongue, when I open my mouth
My true and unclear colors come out.
One may see me differently, but I know I’m still the same.
I have many countless layers yet, shysters still don’t see me,
But judge me. My crimson eyes have been polluted
By gossipers and power hungry fiends.
Sometimes I forget who I am and in doing so, others do too.
People see me in a different light saying things like,
‘Oh she’s no angel, and quiet people can’t fight.’
What angle are you viewing me from?
You think you can create or be a better me?
Even in the hallway fiends seem to think
I’m alone among the sea of blue lockers.
Speaking indirectly, their malicious tongues
Spit venom, attempting to ignite forest fires.
Yet I remain un wilted by their itchy voices
That begs to be scratch by my cold hands.
I am reassured by my quiet brothers and sisters
With the touch of their slight nods and ever watching eyes,
That if those shysters become beaten like dead corpses
They will remain an unsolved cold case.
Our mute sounds bark louder
Than any wondering spirit and our eyes hide
The fact they we are both cunning and bold.
I am a chameleon, the wind moves
With my spirit like a leaf
Dancing upon invisible seas.
Don’t take this silence for granted,
It has backbiting edges and some sharp curves.
Since I know all this, why should I say a word?
Categories:
backbiting, life, social, teen, me,
Form:
Bio
Disappointment and anger; now they're the real gang bangers.
Invading our lives causing nothing but disharmony and strife.
Not easily identified because they creep in on the slide.
Taking root in our spirits as an underlying feature.
Giving birth to the enemies children those demonic creatures.
We all know them by name:
hate, jealousy, backbiting, abuse, addiction, and let's not forget separation and division.
Be alert, check them at the door; and don't allow them to gain entrance into our spiritual lives anymore.
Take the stand; be consciously aware, and don't lose anymore relationships to their debilitating snare.
You know you love them, you miss them and you know you really care.
You no longer want to fight and now you know who the culprits are;
It's time to do what's right.
No more will we settle for anything less but the very best in our relationships.
The arresting agent to shut these gang bangers down is forgiveness.
Categories:
backbiting, anger,
Form:
Concrete
Who is noble to pay respect which springs from within?
Respect cannot be hidden.
Who is grateful to have the past gratitude?
Respect is the best human sentiment which has no other substitute.
Who is charitable today?
How many does to you a kind word say?
Charity means an act of generosity
Charity is an act of liberality.
Charity underlines kindness,
Also hospitality and frankness.
Charity transforms man into a human being
It is just a noble and humble understanding
How many are to the poor and needy merciful?
How many are to the unfortunate, down- trodden and helpless pitiful?
Who does love one another selflessly?
Without having any selfish motives and without greed
Who does have affection for one?
Only bitter hatred but love for none.
Is anyone as humble as a sea rock?
Pride has made them to others sneer and mock.
Is anyone as Gandhiji honest?
But left to burn in the lava of anger, jealousy
Greed, selfishness and turn them ugliest.
Is there anyone who is backbiting?
Who is to all the wishes and desires of the
unfortunates and orphans fulfilling?
Is there anyone left who is spotless?
Unmoved by the pain, sorrow, grief, agony and is immensely joyous?
Science and money have crippled and deadened man's sensibilities
He has erased himself from humanity and responsibilities.
Categories:
backbiting, introspectionlove,
Form:
Rhyme
They sit gossiping
around on chairs
Under shady walnut
Sh! Sh! Backbiting!
Abusing! Loud laughing…
having fun!
A proud young man
newly appointed
Abused his pupils in
anger
When I in innocence
interrupted him
And reminded of his
class,
For the poor pupils I saw
were waiting
Opening their books on
their bags.
Another one, a Master, I
saw was pulling his
inferior female
colleague’s arm
And dragging her in…!
A lecturer kissing his girl
students on cheeks,
whispering in their ears,
and
embracing…!
A broad shouldered tall
teacher would kiss and
bite
The plum-cheeks of my
fair-looking class-
fellows,
One among now is a KPS
officer!
An old lame teacher,
A drinker, abused the
pupils all the time,
Often sitting cross-
legged, lighting a cigar.
O! Let’s stop it here…
but a sick Sikh
headmaster
Now I see had been
highly communal
Would beat at prayer-
time
The poor pupils
sweating in sun,
Without seeing the
wooden-slates
And beating with willow-
twigs their soft thighs.
Thanks to the highly
disciplined modern
schools
In private sector
But the curriculum be
child centered
And not fatiguing and
boring.
O O! Recently I have
heard of the teachers
Who gave me a
humiliating nickname,
One is shouting and
hurling stones at people,
Another is dumbfounded,
hardly talking to any one.
Whom have you hired
teachers...?
Drivers and Boucher—
I wonder and I ponder…
But, let I at least protest.
Categories:
backbiting, romantic, student, teacher,
Form:
Free verse
Blames and allegations
Conceited self-admiration
Habitual fabrications
Never ending Justifications
Maligning reputations
Backbiting and deceptions
Derogatory manifestations
Avoiding responsibilities, remembering dispensations
Friendships and betrayals
Unjustified humiliations
Killing exasperations
………………………..
This needs proper clarifications
We need moral and ethical upgradation
Focus and proper determination
Instead of shortcuts and distractions
This world is one and we have beautiful relations
Empathising and developing patience
What we are is our creation
Education inspires aspiration
Life is a pledge, we are not on vacation
Race is not just about directions
4/3/2019
Categories:
backbiting, character, cheer up, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
It is hard to understand others,
More harder is to know their talent.
Some people life ends doing bother,
More retire without knowing their saint.
Backbiting is useless then showing mistake,
If you want to correct ‘show their real fault.
But don’t show your smile that is eternally fake,
Far worst it is; then doing their direct insult.
Categories:
backbiting, baptism, beauty, wisdom, word
Form:
Light Verse
Sitting absolutely alone
In a round room of riled people
My brain feeling dry as a bone
Staring at a silent steeple
They’re sleeping upon a hill there
In a shadowed silent graveyard
Still, just resting lacking a care
The smooth granite stones standing guard
Charming clouds floating close above
The sounds of calling gulls and surf
No competing or push and shove
In a plot of well trimmed green turf
Safely absent from the rat race
With constructed reality
With make believe smiles on each face
Sleeping through perpetuity
A seldom soft fleeting footfall
Leaving intermittent flowers
Stopping for a tad to recall
Then receding like spring showers
Smiling, I return to the room
The backbiting and bickering
Critical deadlines that still loom
People fretting about nothing
Categories:
backbiting, life, social,
Form:
Quatrain
A gallant man of thousand fists
Spirited brave man of Amadioha’s clan
Conversational colonel of the battalion empire
Emperor manned through the honeyed knight
The dialogue of the drums speaks of your strength and might
Cupping the fingers content of Biafra land in height and weight
Your words kill without sword and egbe-igwe
Not a chicken stories were heard of your deeds .
We never receive a message from your in-laws
Of your manhood not satisfying their daughters
Home and abroad, you stood fearless
As tall as the sky without pillars
To a passing year, the stars sobbed of you
In the month of the falling leaves, we mourned you
Not for loss but for grace of rising to bear.
Igbo nation birth not a cradle hands of you
Not even looking at the cock’s comb of fire
Shall your name be trampled on the ground
“Afamefuna” your legacy is kept until the new birth
Great Elephant of the forest of Igbo land!
You’re braver than Okonkwo who died another’s death
Have you seen your status at Onitsha?
Have you heard of your names immortalized at Awka?
Your hands once disseminate delight from
The talkative face of the drum without fear
We have waited this long for another savior but all we see
Are political thieves with two mouths on seats of power
A village protest conducted, but a cup of rice shared deceived us all,
Rice which they packaged as ransom for their sins.
Odumegwu, Igbos are Nigeria Peasant farmers
Long victims of exploitative neglect
Yet, the spirit of Igboism is gone
We are merely struggling and backbiting
On the legacy you left behind the Iroko tree.
Yours Poetically,
© John Chizoba Vincent
Categories:
backbiting, abuse, africa, anxiety, art,
Form:
Ballad
A Recipe for going to Hell
Ingredients
First you start with the devil
1 cold heart
2 cups of whiskey
4 cups of jealously
5 cups of hate
3 cups of adultery
21 teaspoon of lies
And a lot of backbiting
Directions------------------
You take the devil and mix him with the 1 cold heart, then you go around tearing God church apart
You take the 2 cups of whiskey, and mix it with the 21 teaspoon of lies; you then persecute God’s saints, and ignore their humble cries
Mix the 4 cups of jealously with the 5 cups of hate, don’t worry about heaven, you will never enter the gate
Now last but not least; you take the 3 cups of adultery and mix it with a lot of backbiting; you are on your way to hell now; Ain't this exciting?
This is a recipe that I would not use, nor would I sell, and if you use it today, it’s a recipe for going to hell!
Categories:
backbiting, religion, , cute,
Form:
While kneeling and praying and talking to God;
He said He did not like seeing the sisters at odds.
He was tired of the cussing, fussing and fighting,
He was tired of the gossip, strife and backbiting.
We say we are His children and we love Him so,
And the way we treat each other is as if we don't know.
That if we search His Word in it we will find,
That even Euodias and Syntyche were not of the same mind.
They labored with Paul, yet they both were at odds,
And their anointing; their gifts were given by God.
There was no need to argue and no need to fight,
No need to gossip, tear down or backbite.
Now these ladies may not have done all of this,
But as women of God, they did one are two on the list.
We are not in this walk for fortune or fame,
We are not here for a reputation or to make us a name.
We are in this walk to give God glory, honor and praise,
Deny ourselves, take up the cross and do what God says.
We must refrain from criticizing and putting one another down,
We must give words of encouragement and put a smile where there is a frown.
As pieces to a puzzle we must be perfectly fit,
Working as a team to pull souls from the pit.
Building up, building and not tearing down,
Bringing home a baptized church and then we'll get our crown.
For together we stand, divided we fall,
We must live a life that is a light to all.
So ladies let us come together in love, joy and peace;
No longer shall we be at odds, let the division cease.
Penned for a book entitled Girl Talk, Women to Women, Sister to Sister and
Heart to Heart 2002
Categories:
backbiting, bible, christian, faith, sister,
Form:
Rhyme
A holiday that's not the same
Grandma and grandpa held the family together
The family is scattered
Nobody call each other
12 siblings but yet so distant
No more family get together
Nobody bring a dish or two
No family travel to see each other
All there is strife, jealousy, backbiting
And gossip
Granny I miss your dressing
How you made it from scratch
Your collards greens you smell them a block away
Macaroni and cheese how moist it was
I miss you, I miss you so much
I miss doing your hair after you cook
Grandpa I miss your peach cobbler
how the crust melt in your mouth
I miss you calling me fat mama
I miss your wisdom stories
Your knowledge
Your strength
I remember our last reunion
Guess that's what memories are for
You’ll never forget them
When the roots died
The whole tree died
With thanksgiving
Categories:
backbiting, childhood, family, feelings, grandparents,
Form:
Free verse
(Soliloquoy : An act of speaking one's thoughts aloud when by oneself or regardless of any hearers, especially by a character in a play.)
Mark a book, book a mark.
Not every household has the same pattern of backbiting. Not every mother in law mentors the daughter in law in the same manner and vice versa. It is always noteworthy why you are finding the cliches in your own poem. Where you are still a hype in your own school thought, never made the ground , strong grip to label them your own. You just have a pair of eyes that is getting updated with spectacles with each and every new year, and you knew that maturity is process of losing too. Why you could not say you are a lingering thought too, with the fallen leaf.
Think about something simple, butterfly, grasshoppers, chirping of birds and lots and lots of green. I wish for the cat that got immortal in my only memoir. My freezer still has a green container where she was served. The cats roaming in the here and now are two different stories.
Yesterday, leaf was dragging her little head, between my legs. Under the comforter, she was cooing. She has layers of sounds, I can barely touch her. But most of the time, It unfolds in a make belief story.
Clover is a laid off serviceman. He supplicates , for peace and hopefulness. Yet her hands , has a story of the nicest puffy ball, almost like henna, never too much weary, never too much troublesome.
Leaf is the mesmerized housekeeper with a bombarded situation of underdog keys. Her cooing reminds me about a possible interjection,"Look at this mess! O pony tail, just look at this mess!"
And I will think about the next whole milk powdery treat. For me. For Clover. For Leaf.
Categories:
backbiting, art,
Form:
Imagism