Best Chastised Poems
Scarlett thought she was promised permanent security.
Satchels of resilience bound her fragile wrists.
Woodland deities hailed her.
Underworld demons feared her.
The curious townsfolk simply stood in contemplation -
Inviting epee's gleamed in their eyes
as the garden shears, in their hands, smiled.
Scarlett oft pretended she was Joan of Arc.
Threads of meshed titanium webbed her sheltered heart.
Sour Grimm moppets heralded her.
Skeptical fairy godmothers chastised her.
The relentless wheel of innocence spun without interruption.
Persnickety rogues sashayed in dumbed silence -
permitting their sordid counterparts unwelcomed invitations
into a void where reverend satchels are tragically punctured.
Scarlett donned spiked eye patches in her latter years.
Protective velour swatches masking mass and the masses.
Myths and urban legends empathized with her.
Gods and martyrs appropriately buried her.
The dumbfounded spirits circle Scarlett's broken window with raised eyebrows.
Quizzically staring at rotting barrels littered with skeins if shredded satchels -
yards if tainted fibers being hopelessly spun into yet another
dark, forgotten midnight.
Airbrushed and abused
There are those who make me question myself,
the picture presented, is it really that blurred
Details on the edges of watercolor dreamscapes
melt into reality out of focus and lost of depth
Airbrushed and abused beyond clarity,
to where what I see I no longer recognize
Am I really invisible or just faded from too much light
Can a dim image still shine even when darkness wields its brush
For what have I become, nothing more than an echo
slowly becoming silent as it passes by ears of little concern,
an annoying endless rhythm of distant lyrics
no longer carrying a meaning that applies,
forgotten in the chastised abyss of another’s words,
accusations in permanent ink, shredded verses
tossed to the side to disappear…
L o v e ~ a crippled nightingale
b u r n i n g in bronze tears
of tornadoes,
limping and writhing,
screaming for release,
but
what if I am the mistress
of glass-cut dreams,
crowned with
razor-edged regrets,
and splintered serenity?
Would the raven breeze
then cocoon my soul
with delicate doom,
fueled by petroleum promises,
searing in deadly flares,
as if I were destined
to be a victim of
vindictive vengeance,
torn and tainted,
chained in poisoned
strings of pearls,
a reflection of resignation,
of how kismet calligraphies
draped me in haunting ivory,
as the devil’s widow,
of when I vowed to serve
chastised chamomile,
of the night my innocence
was baptized in infected rivers,
rippling and ricocheting~
bleeding black with thorns…
O deranged twilight,
my heart aches in angst,
singing scars beneath
starless spheres,
where the moon is silenced,
eclipsed by the sun,
and the earth sighs
an unheard requiem
for the fractured skies,
stirring nocturnal feathers
to flutter and soar
in sync with the
beautiful tragedy,
while I lie in a sealed casket,
adorned with russet trinkets,
shadowed in macabre musings,
breathless and bruised,
alive, yet void of purpose
awake but sleep-walking
like an insomniac corpse
lost in the lethal gaze of life,
tracing emblems of the Valkyries,
caged between
the rising of dawn
and frozen dusk,
pondering if this is the end
of the beginning~
a cursed reincarnation,
as I see no escape
from your ill-omened grip~
a casualty of your cruelty,
I remain,
caught in the desolate
haze of h a t e…
Blacked Heart
Within the blackness blissed lies the love that has been missed
For within the miasma mist a darkish deprived heart does resist
Of the silenced sounds heard escapes a lonely wounded word
Of the slumbered souls spurred amidst the dormant eyes blurred
Amongst the burials buried blind my lamenting love is left behind
In a clustered cave confined echoes of a manqué mind maligned
For in a cathedral chastised chant my thoughts in a ravaging rant
In a primal punitive pant bled emotions erected in a penile implant
Where my apocalyptic asylum stands ruling tyrant of sin commands
And demons dream of wastelands I parochially pray with idle hands
My heart a deeper dark by the hour is left in a storm a fragile flower
Upon this shattering shower ardently abandoned with a dying dour.
Music by Enigma - 'Amen'
June.26.2018
Abandon 2
Sponsored by: Brenda Chiri
Mrs. Hill, who had chastised the children
For laughing so
Rowdily
wildly
she
saw
They were
Kind children
Who gave from their
Hearts, these brilliant wishes for happiness
Photo Number Two
February 6, 2021
Double Tetractys 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
He disappears again. Can't say that I'm surprised
I know he thinks when he comes home, that hell be chastised
But I won't say a word cause I'm all out breath
Sick from pacing round in circles like I'm high on meth
I know it's pointless to try to talk to you
So many promises, so little follow through
With words, there's no denying, you're the master
But what starts as hopefulness, ends in disaster
There's this place for you, I made inside of me
Cut a hole inside my heart where only you would be
Safe and protected, by my love so strong
I thought you'd never leave but baby, I was wrong
You walked away from me, you left so long ago
Now that part of me? It's dark and hollow
Tried to replace you but nothing fits the hole
Sometimes your body's here but it's missing the soul
And I've laid awake, so many nights that I lost count
You've taken so much, I lost track of the amount
All the times I needed you and you were absentee?
Why can't you go back to who you used to be?
But I can't change a man who never even was
The jokes on me. Clap clap, applause.
You fooled me once so shame on you
Fooled me 5000? Shame on me too.
And even as I write this rhyme
I know I'll never find the time
To tell you that I've had enough
To just get out, to pack your stuff
I know that when you do come back
You'll say you're sorry, you went off track
And then you'll string words one by one
Til I'm enchanted by the phrase you spun
I'll wear your lies like fine jewelry
And we'll both live blissful in foolery
Form:
The mirror reflected her face, pained with
Hate and self-loathing
Rueing her actions from the night before
On waking to find herself naked, lying beside him
Under the influence of alcohol, she had
Given in and made love to him, now, she chastised
Herself for letting him make his move
There had once been a time, when
His touch was all she desired, but that fire had been
Extinguished many years ago
Love had disappeared in an instant
Once he had started playing his game and his
Omnipotence had came to the fore,
King had taken Queen
In his opening play and he’d taken control
Now he was on the offensive again and
Giving herself to him, had gained him the upper hand
Gathering her resolve, she put aside her
Lamentations and regrets, closing her door silently
As he lay quietly, still deep in sleep;
She stepped into the shower, the water removing all trace of him as
She contemplated her next strategic, defensive move.
Men cannot be trusted
emotionless and hardened,
They tend to be aggressive
Then thoughtlessly are pardoned.
Promiscuously driven
With ego swelling large,
They're loud, endowed and over proud
And in your life they'll barge!
They see vastly different
They see a girl- a prize,
Their honesty is always great
Until they just tell lies.
They'll blame you for everything
They'll treat you as a game,
They're really not so interesting
Predictable and lame.
Hence before you run away
To whatever you have lusted,
Take heed of what I say...
For men should not be trusted.
Now, I could back this poem up
With proof of evidence,
As damages that most men do
Is astronomically immense.
Though I’m sure when they do read this
They’ll hate and much resent
The honesty and forthrightness
From a poetess unbent.
Yes we need to put them in their place
Before problems rise again
Wars and violence amongst our silence
All due to stupid men.
Though I wonder Joe and all that know
Andy and Big Randy
So I’ll admit just a bit
Men can be soooo handy !
And I’m fortunate to know
Good mans’ integrity
The ones who care a very rare
And voice this literally.
Though I’ve generalised and chastised
The ones not up to speed
I’ll be fair and I’ll share
Men…I know we need.
They’re great when they are good
Respectable and kind
They can be the bestest friends
And ease our worried mind.
Baby boys so wonderful
And innocence impart
Uplifting me, will always be
Forever in my heart.
The he whose not corrupted
It’s him I do commend
And loyal I will always be
To a good true friend.
How brothers I have missed you
Through the push and shove
And I am grateful never hateful
For platonic love…
Here here I’m not so sexist
Indifferent, a goner,
As I think of he who strengthens me
'tis he, I love and honour.
Thirsty Water
I should have gone to work today but
your tongue convinced me to come
inside and play with you…to ride our
red rocket ship to the distant planet of
lust where our sensual sins are instantly
forgiven and celebrated amidst mute pleas for
gentle mercy so rightly ignored as a token gesture to
rationality and begging for more is of course
granted by the Court of No Regrets
You alone have always held the secret
key that released the chastised prisoner of
passion locked deep inside of me your taste
buds have caressed every morsel of my
body as if I were an ice cube wrapped
in honey much like the oyster swallowed
whole to tease our ravaged pendulums whose
demand for thirsty water shall be quenched at
the moment our tongues mysteriously turn ice cold
Irish
Note Author Disclaimer: to my fellow poets....these are just words
on a piece of paper and an experiment in new
writing styles/expression for me. Topic is not meant to be
abusive or disrespectful to ANY reader. Please note this poem is categorized
by me in the 'Passion' category of PS.
I have so much to thank You for,
You've been so good to me.
You've given me sun, and wind, and rain,
And shelter 'neath the trees.
You've shown me the beauty of the moon's silver glow,
Against the black velvet sky;
And the quiet beauty of the winter's snow,
And the music of the wind's soft sigh.
You've been my friend in time of need,
You've comforted every tear,
Chastised me for my selfish greed,
And quieted every fear.
You've given me to eat and drink,
And clothes for me to wear.
You've given me a place to live,
Without a doubt, You care.
I have so much to thank You for,
So where can I begin?
Your love has reached my very core,
Your giving has no end.
I’ve not written to you for many years
Santa, I’m quite different from my peers
Not fancy or frilly like girly girls
And I don’t hanker for diamonds and pearls
Today I got the most terrible news
My muse abandoned me. She's on a cruise!!!
She’ll be sailing around the world for years
I'm bereft and can’t stem my salty tears
Oh Santa dear, please take pity on me
I need a skilled muse to write poetry
I’m heartbroken without her by my side
Could you bring one to me on this Yuletide
It would be the most perfect Christmas gift
Please tell me that this year I won't get stiffed!
~ ~ ~ ~
You may not have my name at this address
But Santa, it’s time for me to confess
I've been on your naughty list all this year
I'm the one who put Ex Lax in your beer
And I thought while you were stuck in my loo
I'd try to tempt you in my basque of blue
But you clutched your tummy. You looked quite sick
With loo roll in hand, you ran out so quick
You chastised me as you dribbled brown gloop
Said you’d seen my name at Poetry Soup!
You'd read my poems and you wouldn't be hard
With my dire style, I’m no threat to the Bard
Last Christmas was such a catastrophe
I apologise, will you forgive me?
~ ~ ~ ~
I’ve divulged to all how I’ve misbehaved
and beg the laxative mishap be waived
(You’ve not visited since I was a child
when my behaviour ran totally wild!)
I’ve taken my punishment on the chin
Bitter medicine swallowed for my sin
If you can find forgiveness in your heart
I will try my best to make a fresh start
Santa, please deliver just one present...
A new muse would make my life more pleasant
My old one left and she might not return
My pen is poised; for witty words I yearn
A contest win with Phillip Garcia
Would rekindle my poetic career!
From My Lips To Santa's Ears Contest
Sponsored by Phillip Garcia
10 syllables per line checked with How many Syllables
12-05-17
We’ve had some run ins with the admin and Tommy Boy as well,
and the blunder from down under, who forever seemed to smell.
We’ve been chastised and cursed, some have even called us names,
others have hit us from behind with their silly childish games.
We’ve been banished from this site and made to recite each rule,
some have treated us unfairly and have even been quite cruel.
We’ve been shunned by many poets, who have never known the truth,
many more have been the target, of the ones long in the tooth.
Now let us do some math, and see just how this works,
exactly why this site exists and what they get for perks.
Whenever we post a poem, or some lyrics for a song,
each view gives them a hit, but with zero they get the gong.
They get our annual membership and lifetimes paid in full,
don’t forget the advertisers, we are forced to read their bull.
Whenever you have a poet with a ton of poems and views,
just be sure to judge them fairly and never ignore the clues.
All that you despise
this man who now toys
A human beings eyes
The void and how it lies
All that you despise
Quorn covered in flies
A guy who seems wise
Never winning first prize
All that you despise
This irritating noise
of a rhymester who tries
His comment that defies
All that you despise
those who are baptised
A will you cannot prise
The US military size
All that you despise
those of us who rise
Having to break off ties
A poet? now chastised
By
David Kavanagh
With a silence that cut through the laughter
She entered the room, bitterness
Edged around her features, portraying
Cruelty with an unfeeling sword of darkest
Gloom, dread so dismal it feels, almost,
Like grief sinking into the bones
Sullenness coughing up phlegm that rots
In the heart, the soul, the mind
Where there is a penetrating hostility
Her eyes glared at the laughing children
Echoed cynicism through the air
Like a poison dart piercing the heart
Her hatred tasted of a sourness
Only the very truthful could attest to
She was hard and her icy stares forced lovers
To pull away from one another, chastised
By the coldness that left chills on the mind
Resentment fell from her pores, sweating acidity
Imploring hope to be cast aside for disaster
Calamity so dreadful it was as fatal as a stab wound
A trepidation so repulsive with its awfulness
It feels like being in a nightmare,
Terrifying
When she looked at me, though…
I saw through the cool, calculating gaze
Into the heart where there had once lived
A child of five, all giggles and smiles
Alive with the joy of silliness, …
I saw, beneath the ice in the veins
The warmth of a heart who was living
… with excruciating pain
Pick-A-Title, Vol 30 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
1.) Ice In the Veins
April 24, 2022
I’m honoured to be ‘Queen of Poop’ -
My title on Poetry Soup
Themes like constipation
May cause indignation
I’ll never not write on brown gloop!
All poets have got their own style
My humour makes some people smile
Folk may think I’m strange
But I’ll never change
My subjects though may be deemed vile!
Been chastised for poems on wind
You’d truly think that I had sinned
I’ll still write about farting
No, I won’t be departing
I’m lucky I’m pretty thick skinned!