Best Begrudged Poems
I am a poor tailless cow.
The creator chases away my infesting flies.
I’m clotheless at the prime of the hamarttan
and my only blanket is my feebly tanned skin.
I’m barefoot on the pathful of thorns
and my teardrops reports my miseries to the earth.
I need love and in the midst of mates I go.
I’m trashed with the most painful looks,
and punched with the heaviest words.
My only crony thus remains my mischance.
Every right I’m denied.
And too bitter is my plea to the ears
of the unobliging heads.
My merit is always belittled,
and my promising tomorrow begrudged.
For every good I’m worth I’m sidelined—
that’s why I grow wild!
My fierce eye devoid of their leniency!
My ambition is rent into fragments—
that’s why I bust back so hard!
And in the end I’m felled,
taking my poetic justice.
The whole of my life is rather mundane, endured only until those few minutes gained; Yes, granted reprieve from this daily drudge, and allowed for the nonce, even if begrudged, to hold a feather,very sharp, to write with the tip. Slow and steady like a man taking sips…from the water of life after a long weary trip.
When all the gears are lubricated, operating efficiently, and the needs of the world weigh on someone else, the mechanism of creativity connects with the crenelated cog of self.
Dominoesk works cause my hand to haltingly write. Heart to mind, mind to body, body to hand, hand to quill…okay, so it's a keyboard, alright.
Emotion, like sand after a beach trip, pours forth from places usually dark, not seen, unlit.
Using that water of life and the sands of emotion, I build my castle with words and notions.
Intricate battlements, portcullis, bailey , and arrow loops. Protection from arrows of interruption, darts of responsibility, and soldiers of the Soup.
Until, Inevitably the drawbridge is breached, the end of my time finally reached.
Slowly I surrender my feather sword, in this messy, mixed metaphorical world.
The oven timer beeps and the phone rings, bringing me back to my life of mundane things.
The happily ever after...
He searched the kingdom for a fortnight 'til all saddle sore and weary,
With his eyes bloodshot and bleary,
The prince arrived at the last door.
He found two sisters, far too ugly, and an even uglier mother,
And asked himself why even bother,
This whole darn quest's become a bore.
Then from the kitchen came the vision he had searched so far and wide for.
He asked stepmother what she'd lied for
To say the three of them were all.
A flash, a crash, there was the gown, and then he saw her bare right flipper,
And on the left, a crystal slipper…
The girl he'd danced with at the ball.
The stepmother feigned regret that they had sadly so misjudged her,
T'was for her good that they'd begrudged her,
But to a prince one shouldn't lie.
On her wedding day the trio met the fate they should have dreaded,
They were arrested and beheaded,
And Cindy never blinked an eye.
The wedding feast and celebration were the grandest in the nation,
The king and queen felt jubilation,
Their son was "normal", after all.
They could retire and the crown would be passed down to their descendants,
Their kid, grandkids, and co-dependents,
They were so glad they'd had that ball.
But on their wedding night the prince confirmed his sexual confusion,
And forced them both to the conclusion,
Theirs was no fairy tale romance.
But still they made the marriage work, although they had no little nippers,
Sometimes he wore her gown and slippers,
And Cinderella wore the pants.
So, in conclusion, Cinderella got her semi-happy ending,
In spite of all the rules I'm bending
To tell her tale and make it new.
It wasn't meant to be so grand,
But what my muse commands, I do,
And now in bidding fond adieu,
My hat is off to those of you
Who stuck it out and read it through.
The End
She talked a lot of nonsense
And killed a whale of conscience
In the city of Tampa
Under Mrs. Fleu and Pampa
Begrudged she lost a poll sense
7/7/7/7/7 Limerick
SHAKESPEARE'S NIGHT OF ANNE HATHAWAY
They loved well in the night, 'twas but their game
and took them to the brink of sanity
where both could feel the burning of its flame
and be more into love than they should be;
His cataclysmic heart too young to wait,
She much to sassy of a mind to care
they'd have it all before it was too late
taking from love what love's been hiding there;
and in the last lavation of desire
when love's no more, they lay right where we lay
begrudged of what they thought should be a fire
but all they found was love that would not stay.
and yet they stay beholden to the night
though love was not so real, and not so right.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
*Image of Forgiveness by Pixabay.
Tale of the Forgiving Betold
Albeit a notable stretch
that stars wouldst a fairer
share of thee and sheath
thy warm expanse.
Sire, alack thy humble
servant beseech thee,
me Lord, for wouldst
thee taketh to mind
thoust faileth thee but
'tis once at the weest hour.
Shouldst thou beg
the goddesses and
gods forthwith 'tis
thy noble quest for
virtue sake that thou
mayest risk a stable
footing verily proved
thy acts of decency.
Pall's errant gift thee
a habilitating ward,
a silhouette soul, its
quaint steps for a
merciful fortitude.
To seize caring eyes
fortuitous event of
a chartreuse field
of wavery rushes
and vibrancy pell
in crystalline spring.
A dutiful life longing
begrudged in the
greens of Evermore,
mayhaps thoust dwelt
in the recesses of thy
bosoms for they hadst
possesseth thee so
willingly, that thoust
act gently.
Nay, nary an army,
soothly a herald of
dreams that unlade
trails ifsoe'er mingle
charmingly, napping
in cases, perchance
to claim and rescue
thyself and possibly
pretenders begone
and ne'er-do-wells
that causeth a toss
and twirl fortuitously
erelong into the tuck
of episodic twilight's
unraveling sepulchral.
Sparkled specks and a
Chaser to settle scores
natheless thou mentored
souls that dwarf a sea of
their gilded hearts.
Less of a challenge when
substance, and grit, amidst
the generous few whose
serendipitously perpetuates
the moment -- forthwith.
Suite melody be the appeal
in the case of forgiveness
for there is proper cause for
the bestowment allocation
gratuitously and without
delay.
Forbearance is the footing
lain the acts of forgiveness.
2022 August 23
OF THE COMMON SEAS
"We must come down from our heights, and leave our straight paths, for the byways and low places of life, if we would learn truths by strong contrasts; and in hovels, in forecastles, and among our own outcasts in foreign lands, see what has been wrought upon our fellow-creatures by accident, hardship, or vice." **
Truth need not be found
in philosophers' musings,
or complicated by thoughts bound
with theorems and words, fusing,
nor within the intricacies
of mathematical proofs,
as one and one may indeed
not equal two; un-truth is truth.
Truth becomes vast in life,
and like the pearl, can be found
as beauty captured, in seas rife
between the common oyster's gown,
Or found within the common leaves
of books written by common men,
discovered by those literates who read.
Truth is simple, now and ever been.
I stumbled on such a prize
In Dana's autobiography;
of common men on common seas
living truths of common humanity.
** Dana, Jr., Richard Henry, Two Years before the Mast, World Publishing Company, 1946, p. 283
1
Like a moth to a candle flame
I pondered the perceived right
of those of wealth, culture, piety and fame
to control and lead the common blight -
(the average, struggling and forsaken souls);
yet have never descended to the lowly station
to learn the culture of these earthly ghouls,
their dreams, their pleas, their damnation.
As gods atop their cloud draped mountain
how dare they, in their empiric quackery
force the masses to their impure fountain
to drink of the laws and life that they decree,
yet having not trod the tracks of the plebian path,
having never felt the sordid plebian passions,
but worshipping instead their comfort and wealth,
adorned in decadence and richly clothed fashions,
how can they govern those they do not know,
minister to anguish they have never felt
or heal their sickness of body, heart and soul?
How can they play the cards, to them never dealt?
Are they leaders, statesmen, kings and lords,
or simply counterfeit men full only of themselves,
vainglorious peacocks, strutting hordes
deceiving not a common man, only just themselves?
We have them here, in this land of the free,
politicians, preachers, corporate men and judges.
None have suffered and worked, you see
yet dare to rule, when by common men begrudged.
*Image of Forgiveness by Pixabay.
Tale of a Forgiving Challenge
Albeit a notable stretch
that stars wouldst a fairer
share of thee and sheath
thy warm expanse.
Sire, alack thy humble
servant beseech thee,
me Lord, for wouldst
thee taketh to mind
thoust failed thee but
'tis once a wee hour.
Shouldst thou beg
the goddesses and
gods forthwith 'tis
thy noble quest for
virtue sake that thou
mayest risk a stable
footing verily proved
thy acts of decency.
Pall's errant gift thee
a habilitating ward,
a silhouette soul, its
quaint steps for a
merciful fortitude.
To seize caring eyes
fortuitous event of
a chartreuse field
of wavery rushes
and vibrancy pell
in crystalline spring.
A dutiful life longing
begrudged in the
greens of Evermore,
mayhaps thoust dwelt
in the recesses of thy
bosoms for they hadst
possesseth thee so
willingly, that thoust
act gently.
Nay, nary an army,
soothly a herald of
dreams that unlade
trails ifsoe'er mingle
charmingly, napping
in cases, perchance
to claim and rescue
thyself and possibly
pretenders begone
and ne'er-do-wells
that causeth a toss
and twirl fortuitously
erelong into the tuck
of episodic twilight's
unraveling sepulchral.
Sparkled specks and a
Chaser to settle scores
natheless thou mentored
souls that dwarf a sea of
their gilded hearts.
Less of a challenge when
substance, and grit, amidst
the generous few whose
serendipitously perpetuates
the moment -- forthwith.
Suite melody be the appeal
in the case of forgiveness
for there is proper cause for
the bestowment allocation
gratuitously and without
delay.
Forbearance is the footing
lain the acts of forgiveness.
2019 September 23
Represented by the Gentile
Doe's that description fit of You?
Would you give your tithes'
- Of Jesus -
Or do so as unto the Roman's
Is that what Ye must do..
------
Will I absolutely not tithe to GOD
But, Begrudged Him a
Given price..
And then to believe that God shall
- Deliver -
With out hesitation
- Nor Sacrifice -
Fore this in memory...He shall do for you
In this His Sanctuary....
Fore the Blood of Jesus is upon you!
GF
I left at 6:30 for the 7 pm meeting.
I wanted to be early to find a seat near the speaker.
As I crossed over the bridge on the westside of town
I could see the traffic lights ahead were red.
Something must have happened. The lights were not changing.
I could see a policeman directing traffic.
He was letting all of the opposite traffic come through;
police cars, fire engines, official cars and then motorcycles,
hundreds and hundreds of motorcycles
as if there was no end to them.
By this time I was truly angry.
What was the traffic policeman thinkng?
Those cyclists could stop as well as we.
They were causing me to miss a very important meeting.
The mystery was solved this morning when the newpaper arrives.
The police were leading an entourage of people
intent on honoring some of the good folks who had
lost their lives in the service of their country.
I had been caught in traffic by The Traveling Viet Nam
memorial war replica.
They were setting up the wall and there
would be five days of events and speakers.
I felt the tears start as I read the piece.
These heroes had given their lives and I
had begrudged them a few minutes.
Soldiers, firemen, policemen, where would
we be without them?
I am clearing my calendar.
I have more important events
to attend these next five days.
By: Joyce Johnson
There was a time when I knew she loved me.
Yes, that was a very long time ago.
Her every word and deed, the way that she
Looked at me, her way of saying, hello!
I just knew, needing no confirmation.
But when it came:" I love you my dearest!"
An overwhelming giddiness begun:
A Reeling as though drunk is the nearest
Comparison to explain it. Today
The words are few, most deeds begrudged. Her love
Once true has waned in a well-mannered way:
Like moonlight once bright, now, none to speak of.
It's difficult to say just was the cause
This we know, it will ne'er be like it was.
Hush and harken to the stillness,
Do not disturb the spirits
Lying in their stale graves,
Overgrown with vines,
Reading and re-reading their epitaphs
With begrudged faces
Contorted as if they were trying
With difficulty to understand
Why all those lies were
Written for them...
And then sitting on the gravestones
Or lying leisurely on their beloved vines,
They wave those who pass
Exhorting them to accept their fate,
The ultimate calling of the grave,
The ultimate pleasure of sleeping on vines...
Those green, ghostly vines,
Who converse amongst themselves
In low, conspiratorial tones...
They can hear them, almost everytime,
Gossiping about this man's ugly skull
And that man's decaying bones..
But who knows how much longer
Before the next vine is born
And she grows to be a beautiful vine-maiden
Sought after by men of substance,
Who with all the gold in the world
Pursue her...
And, if you are lucky,
She might grow on you,
And be the first to complain about
Your endless snoring, and childish sobbing,
For all of them dead do,
Alternating steadily,
Peaceful sleep peppered with rasping snores,
And near-silent sobs,
Like that of a woman
Rudely robbed of her flower..
Only in the dead of the night
Do they finally rise
To full wakefulness,
To potter about the earth
Seeking water from the living.
And when they are offered none,
They suck on sweats.
Enjoying its most fulfilling taste
And, eager to remain,
They grow new vines,
Just underneath the bed,
And lay down every night for
A salty living drink...
Written October 7th 2016 for Broken Wings' Overgrown With Vines contest
She could hardly wait to begin her very first day of school.
(Which is rare indeed for a child, as a general rule!)
She'd watched kids thro' her window as they daily trudged,
To the little school house - this the little towhead begrudged!
The big day arrived and Mother with her little girl in tow,
Held her hand as she skipped along, her pretty face aglow!
One thing troubled her though, much to her chagrin;
Two front teeth were missing, spoiling her winsome grin!
She was dressed in a pretty frock and lace-trimmed pinafore,
And was very proud of the shiny patent-leather shoes she wore!
Her hair was fixed in pigtails, so becoming to the little lass.
No doubt she'd be the prettiest girl in her first-grade class!
She joined the other kids and found, much to her distress,
That most were bawling, hiding behind their mother's dress!
She joined the howling mob when she found to her consternation,
That this was not the first day of school, but only registration!
A few days later she fulfilled her youthful scholastic dream.
She loved the learning game and excelled to the extreme!
Years later she took her own two towheads to school with pride!
Like her, on the very first day of school, neither of them cried!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
This poem is based on a true account of my wife, Vera, and her
first day at school!
As democratic minds continue to work LeftBrain Yang-hard and strong,
yet resiliently paced,
and RightBrain Yin-smart,
flowing smooth,
resonantly graced,
Earth grows deeper and wider polypathic outcomes
restoring peace
by non-violently responding to past climate injustices,
Inviting patient good humor
despite wounded free-loaders stingy past
without sufficient faith in positive therapeutic investment.
Not begrudged investment in silent bad faith,
expecting only more negative Win/Lose compromises,
eventually devolving into economic
and ecological gridlock losses,
total eco- and ego-systemic stuckness,
personally and politically disempowered,
disengaged,
failing to thrive.
Deterring aggression is unlikely
to those investing in and with swords,
automated rifle associations,
marketing sales of fear-mongering weapons
and walls
and martial laws.
Deterring violent aggression is more likely
to those investing in and with redemptive WinWin compassion,
cooperative global health associations,
advocating and mentoring gospel communion experiences,
WinWin wealth of grace,
love,
compassion,
trust
as LeftBrain defined,
RightBrain refined,
by not LoseLose absence of health,
trust,
compassion,
grace under Win/Lose fire
of competitive Business As Capital Infested,
over-invested,
under-arrested
by webs of resilient cooperative ownership
management
governance
responsibility
healthy wealth accountability,
historical recountability
RealTalk,
in 4D LeftBrain YangSpace,
RightBrain wall-less webbing bilateral YinTime.
The dampness exemplifies the credence unspoken and unnamed
whilst dripping and sweating unmasked the pain
And all the while her body lay there weeping
his watchful eye and her pussy cat lay there sleeping
Deep, deep in the depths of his mind
throttled the shaft and rode her unkind
Not in an attempt for love but for feeling
he touched her but not comforting nor sincerely
As aroused as she was her time was really near
to lay there so poised yet in motionless fear
Perhaps twisting inside in a round-about way
a jab or a kiss from his puppetry play
Taking each life's urgent will brought
endless counting of battle from thought
A time when his better spent effrontery
would have yielded him to her more gallantly
Betwixt the calling of the sorrows fixed
the moment elapsed and the caution then nixed
To heed the call taken upon lustful desire
but a treat she begrudged yet so eager to conspire
Not a dead end but a rolling hill forward
something to ponder, like that which she adored
Leaving with a taste of a good love's high
dreaming of the day when reality passes you by
Time well spent
a love not meant
Time well lived
a story about a kid