Best Castigate Poems
6 years ago, I wrote limericks about 5 PS poets. Today, I've posted
about another 5 and will continue to add more... before 6 years.
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So, I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there is the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
The new additions...
Like a brother he comes to my defense
This man wears no guise and has no pretense
Mark Koplin, misunderstood
A modern-day Robin Hood
To me he shines with rays of effulgence
There's a man who took me under his wing
Says what he thinks. Doesn't hold back a thing
Danny Turner, my friend
A helping hand he'll lend
For offering kind words, he's a wellspring
David Kavanagh, true friend from the start
Encouraging advice, he does impart
Throws Monoku lines like spears
I raise a glass to him ~ cheers!
Loyal, his word. A man with a good heart
Canadian, Vaso, we don't see oft
Art doesn't come across as being soft
But has a tender heart
For countries torn apart
His poetic words should never be scoffed
His funny thoughts overflow in a Flood
Terry writes humor that's never a dud
Risque, and sometimes not
His stories have a plot
Rumor has it that he's known as 'The Stud'
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there was the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
Paltry poetic presidential prattlings on poultry playing
cockalorums chasing chickens, censured to castigate the cockerals,
tricky tray turbo turkey tidbits tentanize the titillations;
wild wispy winds whisper worldly wasted wiry winsome wiles
dancing delights deluding delicate demigod domiciles,
twittering tweets teasing tenacious tantalizing tongue twisters
residing riddled rattled ransom rasping revolving roars,
minority middle men meltdown midst macrocosmic mayhem
Washington's wonderland weeps wreckage within waiting walls.
If I don’t know
How to raise my voice
Then I should not shout
If I don’t know
How to accept the reality
Then I should not rebel
If I don’t know
How to address a situation
Then I should not trivialize it
If I don’t know
How to be an alternative
Then I should not castigate the existing
If I don’t know
How to know something
Then I should not conclude it doesn’t exist
If I don’t know
How much is known to me
Then I should not mouth anything in entirety
Oh my ignoble mind
why must you be so
rueful-this sorrowful pity
abject-I am not contemptible
brooding-unkind contemplations.
Oh my heinous conscience
dare not
mock me-oh the cruelty
taunt me-cuts so deep
bleed me-I flow dying.
Oh my callous intellect
why must you yet
scorn me-is praise so ugly
castigate me-the pain beguiling
disparage me-oh your brutality!
Oh my derisive aspect
dare not
deceive me-illusions prison
betray me-my loyalty shaken
delude me-my truth so naked.
Do not do so!
Oh my afflicted mind
why must you
transcend my heart-this raw love
overtake the purpose-all consuming
of my fierce quest-aching in urgency.
Even still with
scant recompense
I die a thousand deaths
in your ideations.
Common sense
for some not any
TDS afflicts so many.
Perhaps a day
a light turns on
illuminates why you are wrong!
What MAGA means
not pejorative,
make great this country
where we do live.
Brothers Levi, Jordan, Matthews, Joe and Jedden,
You were sheer shocked as did Sister Hussein
That even this day we can still adjure, argue, advocate,
And advance active activism for the rule of law stolen,
As did Dr Manuele or Orton Chirwa before this date
Who blustered against the egalitarian promise broken;
Or as before them, Rev. Chilembwe’s burst with rage
Being shocked and choked with downright disbelief
At the atsamundas’ well premeditated prejudice cage;
Segregation and Thangata, and such other mischief.
Brothers, that day of shock, you also shade sad tears,
Which many of us here have also done over the years
Seeing that even this day the gods had stolen the show;
Not for good reasons, but for partying ragged ignorance
Of commoners: of clapping again, of praising as before,
Egalitarian impotence these present day gods prance
As constructive criticism they castigate; at times cajole
With constipated wallets: aiming to gag, retch reprimand;
As they throw all to keep the land in the hopeless hole
They had damned it in with their fresh oppressive wand.
Brothers, it is truly sad that even today we expostulate
As the present gods fancy people that do not remonstrate;
Sad they hate to hear the philosophy that does not blush
When it comes to slam their ‘big-man’ mind-set upfront
As was done to the past cruel gods in their groan, and gush
Of verbose at critics, who did not fear their haunt and hunt
But stood firm amidst the god’s aggressive intimidation,
Jeer, jolly josh, lampoon, lies, lash outs, lectures or leer,
Or needle and outrageous orates, aimed at the obfuscation
Of the commoners so they fail to question or query this *****
Performance of raging and ranting even this present day
To have this blast from the past, Brothers you saw, at play.
The weeping pen
He invested his heart into his audacious pen
Withdrew in recess to spy from his den
Perceive how this organ could,once you release
Itself inject,usher mutiny in sensual ease.
Bedevil stark reality,delves into details
Castigate stereotypes,ensnares his preys
Bourgeois,patrons,left,right wings even the divine
Abstain to kowtow,hearten sense of credo align
Disparage ostentatious wealth and opulence
Never sully his lips to secure prominence
Like a peacock through the ground strut
And out of the fire pull his chestnut
Now that he wants to restore his heart
Regain its whereabouts hence never depart
His iffy pen takes umbrage at his disarray
Like conjoined twins has vowed to stay
Our mother was tempted by a crafty snake
Could a vulnerable pen subsist without ache ?
I Cannot Weight To Hmm...
Be Pressed By A Dumbbell
Two fifteen pound
steely danse sing
wrought iron dumbbells
ill-tempered, impatiently,
and intensely a weight
their turn to hmm... press me,
and forthwith dense trait
heavy handed prestidigitation
to yours truly, this primate
currently attempting
to craft sad excuse
for a poem, sans far fetched
notion, aye trite re: late
engendering, foisting, and goading
bizarre lifelike qualities
to inanimate solid helpmate
to build (and/or oven
just tone) muscles bitterly, painfully,
resignedly wince, where washboard
abdomen long a goner
impossible to recoup,
whar hide didst narrate
ting hours sculpting great
former Adonis build
on these, now nada so lovely
bones, and experience
spiritual strife to oscillate,
perhaps witness sing
angst to esse skill late
heady feeling healthy vim within
myself, how just
with verily at least dedicate
half hour exercise can be great
for body, mind, and
soul triage, otherwise...
basic gravitational laws
of physics gladly
hand me unwanted fate,
how gradually physique
will eventually demonstrate
flabby, droopy, and
unwanted addy post tissue create
ting another reason to berate,
castigate, emasculate, where
self repudiation will germinate
(albeit, thence in extremis), yours truly
doth relinquish fitness regime
resulting sparking, and taste
testing casus belli dictate
tête-à-tête, viz hasty
unconditional surrender to
a void mortal kombat,
which latter, would exterminate,
the forces of yin and yang,
re: lee (I rub hurts) loch cur,
thence finding me fraught,
(yule hiss see - uselessly)
grant ting soul
option to disintegrate,
in the event emotional civil war,
rents asunder every fiber
of mine being, which
wrath wracked wraith self destruction
twill woefully satiate.
THE 12 ANNO-DUODECIMALISATION PERIODS
Wintric time is now slippopherous and the slithey snowlerimon
Is experiented with the newly-arrived vernality in the air.
His triple anno-duodecimalisation period is in terminfication
Which has megaramifications and blerious implifications bare
For the floracious and faunacious spread of life-and-growthicity
The next few anno-duodecimalisation periods will encertain
The success of the seminal vesicles of herbatorial and floribundial growthity
And the ground-coveration will soon be overspread with leavy-fruitain.
Treedonry, tall and gloribundant shall castigate their shadowsmith
Across meadowfields so mertile and bloductive. Soon the triple
Anno-duodecimalisation of the pre-wintric time will proviso us with
All the beautiflic and delicioned harverted produce from our farmliple:
Making us readified for the oncoming wintric time, a periodontary
Of slippopherous and slithey snowlerimon, coldpainly beyond comparicary.
A house divided can not stand. This thought was hailed by greater men but I feel these words need to be said once again.
Can we not find common ground to be a nation resolute and proud?
Our universities once fertile for debate if you speak out it will be you who they will castigate.
O tempora o mores did Cicero exclaim is it the child parents of the past raised in rebellion are they to blame.
We are not perfect and never will be but we live in a nation that allows us to be more than our grasp because we are free.
Let us stop this new speak and microaggression, our safe space, all of this only retards our progression.
We are a nation born of adversity, let us rejoice in our inalienable diversity
A hours divided cannot stand.
Peace and war
Why should the world like a magdalene
Cry over the war heinous atrocities
Abide reaping scores of casualties like sardines
Castigate fate and disregard unbridled hostilities
Why should the world license instead
War merchants over our destiny preside
Amble leisurely and upon our values tread
Inundate the market and imposts hide
Why should the world continue to swallow this bait
Let arms dealers bedevil our feeble minds
Turn a deaf ear to quandary and so peace ignite
Bury the hatchet and peace pipe light
We will tarry to God insistently implore
Yet bring war criminals to justice and terminate this folklore.
Though Time is something we've devised,
Time's hold on us can't be revised.
While Time has time to spend at will,
We question Time when we distill
It into time spent ill or well.
It's just perception - time will tell.
Time can play games within our head,
It's Time we love - and Time we dread.
Time gives us time to think things through,
What to reject - what to pursue.
And, timeliness keeps Time involved -
Sufficient time gets things resolved.
True, Time can grant a host of things -
Good times that well-timed planning brings.
And, timely words - remember when?
Just simple truths, time and again.
Time can expand our views to see
The benefits of what might be.
But, Time can proffer problems too -
With time to kill what should we do?
Time can befriend untimely ways
That dissipate our time-bound days.
Yet, Time won't dwell on what we chose,
Time ventures on - not in repose.
When Time slips by, or fails to wait,
It's Time we tend to castigate.
Despite the time we set aside
Time only serves to be our guide.
Still, Time can help us do our share
As Time goes by with time to spare.
But, Time moves on at its own rate
Unmoved by time to contemplate.
If we take time to stop and look,
Time travels past the time we took.
Yes, Time is always on the run -
Time won't stand still - for anyone.
THE BACKBITERS DIARY.
She’s a land called
Barren craft,
Variety of laugh hangs
On this verse
The vampire’s turbine
Is double of man’s
Heart,
Biting different parts
With just one mouth,
Stones at your back
As dart that excretes
Artifacts.
She gives another two clap
As the cow whose delight
Is for the calf.
The real laugh lives within
Only a tiny line stands
In between,
Never talk silence to be
Darkness,
Drill into your pride
Like super is the greater
Price.
I never respect the thunder’s
Eye
Despite His knowledge
Of wonder’s to life’s child,
I am bribed with just one
Fun night
To last twice,
Castigate her son
In epileptic day light.
I never sat to revise
These an episode I
Wish to revive,
The shy stars pity my
Crime,
As the goats gather to
Empty my shaft.
How did I make this verse?
My diary ended like sand
During the transit
To gossip in France.
AKEWUSOLA HABIB.
On those flaming August nights
when breezes lash around, as steam
instantly ruffles outside the window,
her breath pulses in their dwelling,
roasted by the uproar of such voice
draining all thoughts beyond reason...
Hushed tones grow inert; allowing
the turmoil, the pain, and anguish of words
so cruel, they need not have been uttered
in anger to castigate hearts weeping
from a bitter vicious language
over close kin's genial queries:
and roots of karmic debt multiply,
that consequences burn within her mind--
another unforgiving deed nailing harshness
without a sign of remorse-- her pride's toll.
Karma Contest sponsored by Line Gauthier
4/29/2018