Get Your Premium Membership

Best Cold Shoulder Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Cold Shoulder poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of cold shoulder poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Cold Shoulder poems, articles about Cold Shoulder poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Cold Shoulder poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

New Cold Shoulder Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Cold Shoulder poems are below this new poems list.

Cold Shoulder by Daddario, James
cold shoulder by thomas, shari
a sun kissed cold shoulder by Beam, John
Cold Shoulder Voices by Samandar, Moses
The Cold Shoulder by Beam, John
Cold Shoulder by Rodrigues, Kaliko
fulton-COLD SHOULDER by Strand, Brian

View all new Cold Shoulder Poems

The Best Cold Shoulder Poems

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.


.           True love 

I love the way you make me love you
Love the way you step my heart on the ground.
When you walk into the room
I love the way you do not even look at me.
You take my breath away
With all the words you say,
I fell in love with you more 
The day you walked out the door.
I love how strong you became
I love the way you always hang up the phone. 
I can't get enough of you 
When you want me out of your face.
True love came to me all of a sudden 
When you dumped me in our special place.

I take my self back into your arms,
only when I am asleep.
I know I brought your heart a little harm.
Now the boat has turned making my love weep.
You do not bother with my charm
All you do is give me the cold shoulder.
In my book of love, you will get over it soon
In the mean time you are my true love
No matter if I have to do it all by myself.
Until than I will not give you the pleasure
Of forgetting  what you gave up.
Stop teaching me the lesson of pay back
Stop playing hard to get,
My one and only TRUE LOVE
.          SKAT

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Tribute to a Major Appliance

Sub-titled: What’s in YOUR Fridge?

Please allow me to introduce myself:
My name is Ms. Fridge A. Daire
I stand tall among my lesser cohorts
and MOST of them really look up to me

However, I have two problems:
First, I’m FED UP with my owner
He's always opening my door
reaching deep inside (Oooh yeah!)
helping himself to my goodies
without EVER cleaning me out
or scrubbing me from top to bottom
Doesn’t he know a woman has NEEDS?

Then there’s that stupid stove next to me
who’s constantly flirting and making passes
Says he wants to ‘warm me up’ and ‘defrost’ me
bragging that I’ve ‘got the hots’ for him
which absolutely makes my Freon boil!
Of course, I always give him the cold shoulder
by freezing him with my famous icy stare
and responding, “Simmer down Four-Eyes"
or “I don’t date shorter appliances"
But he’s always cooking up something else...

So I asked my owner to move me to another spot
He said he would if I wasn’t so heavy...HEAVY?
What kind of thing is THAT to say to a lady?
He also claims there’s no other place to plug me
PLUG me? Who does he think I am anyhow?
I found it quite crude and vulgar! ANYWAY...
I suggested an extension cord and he blew a fuse!
Geez, no wonder he’s still single...


Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.


I worked in an Insurance office and loved my job But the manager was an idle fat slob He’d put in expenses sheets for work he hadn’t done And was out of the door in front of everyone But I digress… He asked me to call two people on the phone Could’ve called them himself but I didn’t moan When I saw the names of the people I thought it was a joke Surely these couldn’t be real names of these unfortunate folk One man was called Olaf Pratt I saw his name and laughed at that The second was called Mr Erdogdu It made me think of doggy pooh on my shoe! I picked up the phone to dial the first number But I started to laugh, it was a real blunder I was unable to call; all I could do was giggle My tears flowed and how my shoulders did wiggle I composed myself to try and make the second call Pressed a couple of digits, but I couldn’t dial them all For I started laughing at Mr Erdogdu’s name I’d failed at my task it was a terrible shame The boss came in and asked why I hadn’t called When he saw I’d been laughing he was quite appalled I was as red as a beetroot and had tears in my eyes To me the names were SO funny, this fact I couldn’t disguise Snatching the piece of paper he gave me the cold shoulder I cringe at this memory even though now I’m so much older Since then I’ve had friends with surnames of Moron and Looney I’m glad I’m more mature now and not that lass that was gooney! This poem really is based on true events but I had to make these calls on separate days and not together as in this tale … but the result was the same I couldn’t make these calls for laughing at these unfortunate names. My most embarrassing moment Contest Sponsored by Cindi Rockwell 07~15~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dirt Roads

Dirt Roads

Hello ole friend, I’ve visited you before.
What can you tell me, what news is in store?
You read like a book, imprinted and deep.
I know there are secrets, you like to keep.

Let’s see what’s gone by, and traveled your way.
Unusual footprints or tracks I might say!
Looks like ole Fred’s been here with his truck,
And after the rain, looks like he got stuck.

Small stroller wheels and a couple small feet
Pulling a wagon, that kid is so sweet.
I see some new rocks jumped up from down under
And oops there’s that pothole, new rattles asunder.

You carry the brunt of Nature’s worst weather.
I see where the flood washed out Sara’s heather.
Now here aways, fences embrace
Where wildflowers blooming, no curb to efface.

And now through the hollow, the trees all adorn
Like trumpets announcing this majestic morn.
The deer and her fawn, new prints in the snow
Your cold shoulder is icy, in minus below.

And yet dear old friend, my thoughts turn to you.
You haven’t changed much, you’re one of a few.
No concrete, no asphalt, no white lines or yellow.
No signs and no limits, you’re a polite kind of fellow.

The stories you’ve seen as each day may pass
The history made, the silence of past
Are imprinted here, upon your great crest
More than my years, you’ve stood the test.

Horses and wheels, motors and tires,
Footprints and hopscotch, puddles and miers.
You’ve seen it all from beginning of time
And still your pure beauty so easy I find.

And now I arrived the place I call home
You’ve guarded me safely when I’m all alone.
I wonder how often anyone cares
How great has your day been, traveling there?

Copyright © Jeralynn Clark | Year Posted 2010

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Theatrical Attraction

Curtains drawn drawing me in
past trinkets left as mementoes
reaching for stars and moments
filled with honeydew kisses
keepsakes kept inside 

Sugared apple blossom scents 
fill the void nowhere left to hide
scarlet petals wrapped in wonder
float atop the steamy waters
of a long lost one act play

Reflection of sated imperfection
staring into an open invitation
robes dropped but fearing a
cold shoulder  a twist of fate
a simple smile can sedate

Pockets full of daisies held
the journey into futures
untold  whispers in the breeze
putting a worried mind at ease
reliving a childhood dream

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Angry me

 I look in your eyes, the colors are changing your not the same person I met in the 
beginning of the season. Why all this jealousy I am only trying to love you and now you 
look at me like an enemy would a foe. Excuse me for thinking this but now your getting an 
attitude. I see the roll of the eyes and the whispers behind my back. It doesn't hurt me 
you know because I could really care less it just angers me that you are still 
pretending. Don't smile if your really mad. Because I am seriously getting annoyed with 
all this deceit. It's obvious that you don't want me around, constantly giving me the 
cold shoulder. Don't you know i'm better off I have people all over the world I don't 
need you. So if this is an attempt to drop me like a egg out of a window please warn me 
before I crack because then it will get brutal. I am mostly a nice quiet girl but that's 
only when i'm relaxed. You don't want to see the demons within me, take advantage for as 
long as you can but you know that as long as your picking i'm steaming. I am boiling 
slowly like water on the stove. Touch me after a while and boy I will get cold. Don't you 
think it's funny, don't you think it's sad. I'm shuffling my feet lonely but true fully I 
am not alone. I just wondering why i'm here... It used to be so much fun. You loved me 
then you loved me way back when. I guess everyone backs out when they find out the real 
me. Anger me go ahead, trouble me, but I've dealt with this before. It's nothing new, 
It's the same old same old and no matter what you do this time I won't fold. So i'm 
angry, just look beneath my brown eyes. Behind that softness lies a hard shell that's 
taken many blows.

Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2005

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.



Every morning I wake and gaze my lover in her face
Her eyes are close so tight
I wonder who she is dreaming of
Maybe in her sleep is the only place she forgives me.

In a bit, she will awake
Walking towards the shower
Her fresh smile in the morning is fake
I can smell her odor,  like a flower.

How could I do this to you?
I know you are hurting everyday
With all the things I did to you
Thank you for not walking away.

Seeing as you get dressed in front of me
With a body so nice leaving me aroused
Afraid of you going your own way
Every time I see you leave with an open blouse

The harder I try to make it better
You gain authority  over me
Holding you near in the cold weather
You push me away when you remember

You are the best thing that ever happens to me 
How could I be so dumb with my stupidity

May be one day you will forgive 
Without you I realize I cannot live
My days go by me very slow
The love for me, you no longer show

Lying by your side where you rest
You turn away before I turn off the light
I want to touch you with a nice soft caress
You say you are tired just about every night
I kiss your neck to see if you respond 
You give me the cold shoulder as if we just had a fight
I touch your curves with my fingertips
Still, you do not give into my lips.

I beg you please do not make me wither away
You say you have nothing to say
Regretting what I did everyday

I am still deeply in love with you,
Without you I do not know what to do!!!

 =====Opposite Sex=====

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

LOVE'S WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT - Collaboration with White Wolf and Space Cadet


quite a shame, try to treat love like a game,
mother never said -- ya could of been bolder
only thing left you got’s cold, your icy shoulder
come on like an avalanche, snap like a tree branch
gave someone love, just didn’t say it then
on your knees for no one to please, when

I wonder if you knew love didn’t flow

the way ya knew when you use to show, and
spread your wings, screamed 
Love’s Obscene! again and again
you soon found out, taking to give nothing
leaves nothing to gain?

car ride beside the guy next door 
is now a baby's cry every time she awakes on the floor
nothing short of a shame or for what for 
Spring only has her love growing in spite of your doubt 
But you'll soon find out, that love is what it’s all about.

Spring only has one love growing older, wonder why

mama never reveals your cold shoulder no more
nothing short of a shame, not so much a game
time got you an icy red-spot blizzard, hear 
your snowstorm avalanche snap the tree branch

don't tell some one ya love them and leave just a name

Februari 6, 2017
White Wolf
Space Cadet
Darren White


It’s quite a shame, how you treat love as a game,
Your Mother never told you that ya could of been bolder,
The only thing you’ve got is an icy cold spot,
Ya come on like an avalanche but snap like a tree branch,
When you tell some one ya love them but just can’t say when,
You’re like Summer on its knees with no one to please.
I wonder if you know that your love doesn’t flow,
The way that it should, do you know you could,
You spread your wings and scream, that love is just obscene,

But you will soon find out, that love is what it’s all about.
Ya, ya, ya soon find out, love's what it's all about
Ya, ya, ya soon find out, love's what it's all about

You ride your car like ya ride the guy next door
He yells like a baby every time you make him
Come on, you're a witch, you make this guy twitch
Like a jerky twerky perky pig before it's getting eaten
But you make me feel like I'm beaten.... yeah beaten

But you will soon find out, that love is what it’s all about.
Ya, ya, ya soon find out, love's what it's all about
Ya, ya, ya soon find out, love's what it's all about

Nothing short of a shame, love not so much a game,
Your mama never told you that you got a cold shoulder?
The only thing YOU got is an icy cold spot,
A blizzard, snowstorm an avalanche but snap like a tree branch,
Don't tell some one ya love them but just can’t say when,
You’re like Spring on its knees, only itself to please.
I wonder if ya know that your love doesn’t flow,
The way that it should, Do you even think you could?,
You spread your wings and scream, that love is just obscene...

But you will soon find out, that love is what it’s all about.
Ya, ya, ya soon find out, love's what it's all about
Ya, ya, ya soon find out, love's what it's all about


January 18, 2017
White Wolf
Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Little boy

This small for his age little boy on his first day of school, with his little dinosaur backpack and new blue jeans and white t shirt. Mama said “Be sure to be careful to not to stain your shirt, especially at lunch cause I know how much you love your ketchup.” He stands with his head towards the ground letting his deep red hair cover his freckled face because he knows a whole new world is at his feet, the first day of many more first days to come for the next 13 years of his school life. He looks out among the many faces in the large, peeling blue paint room and his stomach twists into various size knots. He holds his lunch tray of pizza and milk with shaky hands, almost drops it twice just standing there. The roar of all the students and staff echo off the walls,  the security with their walkies and the kids laughing horribly loud make his nerves even more uneasy. He stands slightly slouched and bites on his lower lip, somethings hes done since infancy when he was feeling over whelmed.  He doesn't know what to do, or what he is allowed to do. Maybe go out to the play ground and hide in the big yellow tunnel slide or even in a bathroom stale till class started. One side of the cafeteria had larger children, the 5th graders, and the sizes of them decreased as you moved your sight to the right  of the room. There was no order to where you had to sit, it was just every grade sort of stayed with each other, the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th graders all grouped together, maybe they were afraid to venture out of their safe zones. After 5th grade you go to the bigger school, they call it middle school which is not the scariest cause after that you have high school and everyone says its a nightmare. He looks down at his feet and knows he looks like a fool just standing there for how ever long he has been, which was much to long. He didn't see any of his classmates, maybe there was a special spot just for his grade somewhere that will accept him with open arms . Even if he did he didn't know any of their names and none of them seemed to care for his. They wouldn't play with him at recess or be his partner in gym, nobody even wanted to sit by him at carpet time. They all gave
him the cold shoulder, you could see the sadness on his face every time you had to have a partner for a activity. As if he was about to burst out in heavy tears, his face would get red and he would hold his tummy as if cringing in pain. He is a coward and returns to the class room to eat his now cold food with the teacher and be forever known as the teachers pet, all because the lack of self confidence in that small child in that small moment in time, in the ocean of seats in the room with the peeling paint.

Copyright © Cat Way | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.


That’s how she saw me

A lying jerk
Filled with mal-intent
And inebriated twist of the devil’s tongue

She removed my smile
My patience
My need for her

She was a professor
with a Masters Degree in Investigative Drama

Drinking shots of animosity and scorn
From half-empty glass
Layered in a syllable abused tint

Sucking accountability, dry

She removed my smile
My patience
My want for her

Vials of sadness
Broken over mattress
Where I entered her
Into innocence realm

She begged for more
She begged me to stay

But, I was already marked from argument’s first revelation 

Because even when I held her hand
Even when I welcomed her into my arms
After being beaten for being her diamond ring’s shadow

Even when I brought her closer to peace
It wouldn’t ever be enough

My smallest mistakes would become Armageddon’s cry

My apologies
The tissue

She removed my smile
My patience
My trust for her

Because I
Was a piece of crap

An irregular painting titled: “The Bad Guy”

Messages of sangre coated angst
Going to wrong number

Her errors
Still made me see her as a precious woman
Waiting to regain her peace
Her identity

But I
Was a liar

A screw up

Our finish line had no ribbons
For she had already cut my c(h)ord

Cold shoulder
My only way to hold this peace

She thought she could leave me

But I
Was already gone

Her tears’ contempt made me let go
Fears’ discontent helped me confirm my Western sunsets




For serenity’s wing behooves me to sway
Towards these winds of change
Solace will hold me on palm
As I wish with final prayer
That Karma
Goes easy on her

© Drake J. Eszes

Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2011

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Burning of the Jews

It was a woodcut in our high school history text, Unit 4 Beginnings of the
      Modern World, that so disturbed,
from the Nuremburg Chronicles depicting "the burning of the Jews," flat
faces of the victims among flames, in no particular agony, not especially
during the Black Death 1/3 of Europe died 1347-1351 alone. Although
you die together you die alone.
                                           Earlier that week
I had attended our 6th grade's performance of Fiddler on the Roof,
at first thinking
Coltrane should have recorded Matchmaker as a bookend to My
      Favorite Things
but as the play darkened
with the town's absorption into the diaspora, democracy
yet unthought of and rule of law a fig leaf for authority
Jasper, who played Zero Mostel, delivered his line well to the effect
you're just doing your jobs while wrecking our lives.

Anyway, nothing like that is happening here, is it?
The gardener planting tomatoes, the gravedigger finding skulls,
there is so much life a little death won't matter.
I'm reading Bloom in the Times, how
anyone who doesn't believe Israel should exist is by definition
Come to find out, I may fall into that category - not that Israel shouldn't
but as a so-called Jewish state
any more than a Muslim or Christian land. To some,
Jewishness is not a religion, it's an ethnicity. You have no problem
with the Swedish state, do you?
Should the Swedes be expected to open their borders to the Finns?

was a beautiful ham,
big as Zero.
                  A friend posed
this question: must all states be melting pots like the United States?
I said yes
not because they should but since
it's inevitable. Let labor flow like capital!
I hate when people disagree with me.
I get angry.
When a plate breaks, it asserts another possibility.
America was the last word of the play and brought a tear of pride to my

Immigration, exasperating argument re the Other.
How many's more than enough? 9 billion, a rational,
real number that exceeds or
                                       we're convinced
is within the carrying capacity of the planet.
Climate change is the new Black Death.
I like the Amerindian body type and face mixed in with the European,
The irrepressible economy rolls out reams of logs, ores of elements, bags
      of ice, fields of rice.
Embargo. The moon stares, bare, full of interstellar space.
Better a cold shoulder than a visit from our military.
The crazy Nazis must have felt themselves extraordinarily compassionate
      toward the mother, earth, the goddess, history, or some such
      abstraction and, thus, acted on a fraction of all they did not know.
Selfless soldiers just doing their jobs expanding the border or,
on the other hand, collecting fagots for "the burning of the Jews."

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Poke Her

They agreed to go to their favorite hangout and cigars.

Once they were seated the waiter said that the restaurant had a deal on Italian wine.

In the beginning  it was easy, turn the cold shoulder for a few days.

And that was followed by fantastic sex.

He loved to poker her and she carried her part.

But the children came and it was much harder.

They had a full house and the meanness .

The thing that bothered her most was his control issues.

And he believed he ruled over the family like a king.

She always peeked at his hands when they fought.

Whenever he was angry he would clench and unclench his hands.

He knew the relationship was over and he should have folded.

She wanted to lay all her cards  on the table.

She had tried hard but when angry her face would get flushed.

They would rake in each others defects and the love died.

The high road was never straight and neither took.

He would raise past issues that were long dead and forget the progress..

He thought he was a stud  but the children were his weakness.

He wanted to holdem but she wanted their best.

All she wanted was for him to ante up in the marriage.

They were both bluffing and the love weakened.

Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

No one said college was over

Go to college they said 
To get a real job they plead

Don’t worry about someday 
Just get to work by Monday

So here I sit resume in hand
But I feel like I’m stuck in quick sand

What to do? Where to go? 
How the hell am I supposed to know?

I have an education 
But much to my agitation

It never taught me what to do
Sure I can solve a problem or two
And I am supposed to look at things like few

If I’m so smart?
Why don’t I know where to start?

What tomorrow has in store I am unsure
But my best friend just woke up on my floor

And I’m having the time of my life
Amidst all the struggle and strife

So screw getting older
I’m giving it the cold shoulder

Copyright © Chad Weeks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Winter Fantasia

Winter Fantasia.

Snowman, his coat a trillion frosty threads...crotched by Jack,
the naughty mischief maker. 
Each crystal cast perfect by Boreas.                          #
Blizzard bullies, bustling, jig-sawed sleet,
crystallized in my mindscape of imagery.
Winter Sun dares to melt you down, pasty white.
Your peculiar perfume, suggests ice cubes soaked in lemon-crush.
Shiver, quiver. As goose-bumps frazzle your Arctic world 
the moon shines crazy, diamond flames hang in the lonely sky.
I materialise you...the absent person,
I colour the scene with my paintbrush and bucket.

Bold, stiff... blow a bon-bon kiss,
you sentry on snow-laden ice,
under heaven-hung, bunting stars...
a diamante necklace, swanked by Nyx, Greek Goddess of the Night.
Platted rainbows twist, entwine hues, illuminate
a fibre-glassed squirrel who morphs into a swirl of peppermint puffs
and whirls round in muffled silence.
Rouge-crested Robin rests on cold shoulder, then
alights on umber wings...
Ruby stained Snowman chuckles like river ripples,
egg-white flakes dying to pirouette,
airborne ballerinas, swivelling, spinning...
from knitted, silken clouds, finer than a Fuschia’s blush. 
Come Spring sprinkles of Lime grass and creamed Crocus
blanket my view where you once stood.

Reality or imagination, I am the speaker of this poem,
so Jack, draw fern-like patterns on my windows, then
run away with Nymph shadows...
Even the wind dies happy.

# Boreas...Greek God of Winter.

Copyright © Geraldine Douglas | Year Posted 2016

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Sailor at Sea

Sometimes I feel like I am just slipping away.  Slide me in the water like a dead man at sea.  I can feel the cloth shroud surrounding and protecting me like a swaddled babe.  And as I sink into the murky waters I feel the cold shoulder of God shrug and say let him be.  And I pass into the afterworld in a sea of fear and discontent.  I struggle to open my eyes but I can’t see.  For I have been blinded by my stupidity.   I believed that God loved me but it was not to be for I had to love God before I could pass from this world to his.  And slipping into this darkness I knew that I was forever blind and food for the soulless bottom feeders of this world.  I can’t go back I can only pray that you read this and make amends before you make the mistake of a sailor to long at sea.

Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Ill bend down and pick up the pieces of my broken heart

You cut me deep and I will always surrender
You slice me again and I will never mender
Your cold shoulder makes me shiver
When its almost gone you still want the last sliver

When you slash me open and take it from my chest 
I still care for you and give you my best
When you cut me and rip me apart
Ill bend down and pick up the pieces of my broken heart

You long for everything that’s inside
My heart id here for you to divide
With my soul I don’t need to live
It’s mine alone and mine to give

When you slash me open and take it from my chest 
I still care for you and give you my best
When you cut me and rip me apart
Ill bend down and pick up the pieces of my broken heart

When you crush the muscle with your clenched fist
I’ll still be there because I simply can’t resist
When you slice deep because that’s just who you are
I’ll still love you and take it and just bare the scar

When you slash me open and take it from my chest 
I still care for you and give you my best
When you cut me and rip me apart
Ill bend down and pick up the pieces of my broken heart

Copyright © Kevin Clark | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A 24 Hour Non-Stop Lovefest

February is here, it's Valentine's month Hope everyone remembers their sweetheart If you buy her roses or chocolates and stuff Your guaranteed lots of love until March But beyond March 1st it's a turkey shoot If you want some advice from this oldster Make sure you do what's expected of you Or you'll probably get the cold shoulder It isn't magic, it's elementary dear Watson One and one always makes two You must make sure she clearly understands She's your all-time favourite honeydew So we've alerted you to the possible dangers Now it's up to you all to take steps To ensure your life will be filled with joy And a 24-hour non-stop lovefest February is here, it's Valentine's month Hope everyone remembers their sweetheart © Jack Ellison 2015

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Forgive You Father

To you I was probably a mistake !!
mom's pregnancy was no piece of cake,
but God did what it takes -
for me to be born.

I didn’t come in form of a rose,
but instead I was a pinching thorn,
without any value nor purpose -
just like a piece of corn.
But Christ’s grace was sufficient for me to be born

I was named after you...
I have your eyes, your hair, your lips.
I am the reflection of your youth.

I hated it  when people compared me to you.
I hated your habits;
all your addictions. 
I hated  you..

Mom left me before turning six,
and you left me when i was twelve -
even when mom left I felt all by my self.

In my teen years I was desperate -
looking for love.
So I became an outlaw thug,
but in the heart...
I was in need of a fatherly hug.

I needed  discipline, instruction, and advise -
instead you gave me a cold shoulder,
and a heart made out of ice.

I felt more comfort from the roaches and mice,
than turning into a man whose life was full of vice.
Nothing was hidden from me!!
I was looking right through your eyes.

But now you have Christ..
So we share something in common -
that love is not a feeling,
but a choice we both made -
when praying and kneeling.
Forgive me Lord...prayer surpassing the ceiling.

I forgive you,
just like Joshua forgave me.
and I love you,
just like God loved me.
and I will die for you!!
just like the Messiah  die for me.

I love you Dad, and I forgive you.

Copyright © Diogenes Zuniga | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.



We bought it used at an art store
And cleaned it with soap and water.
Then stood it on the living room floor:
A child’s easel for our daughter.

You would draw on it with a marker,
Or write messages we could read;
The letters were always starker			
If there was an important need.

It straddled the dog’s kennel cage
Throughout seven years of growing,
Your knowledge we could always gauge
By the drawings you were showing.

We never wiped it’s white board clean
Of the creative things you drew,
All those years till you were thirteen;
That’s what a parent’s pride will do. 

But now that you’re growing older
The easel stands alone and bare.
You’ve given it the cold shoulder
And quit drawing things to share.

Soon we’ll give it to someone new
Because now it’s mainly ignored,
So someone can write notes just like you,
And draw pictures on its board.

Copyright © Michael Seeger | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

If I Could Change the Past

If i could retake my life to bake again, 
I’d say exactly where, what and when, 
To my family and fundamentalist church, 
To those with importance as a crutch. 

I’d take that offer of life and health, 
By taking that clinic of great wealth;
Carers set out all just for hurt, torn me, 
Who could never openly climb the tree. 

I would just decide to take that blow, 
Which my society could directly throw, 
If the police couldn’t constrain my dad, 
If the social work couldn’t stop the gad. 

If the doctor couldn’t prohibit my parents, 
From their motorway journeys and vents, 
When they wanted to visit me at Uni, 
Every month, which was not of beauty. 

To accept that rehab right and fair, 
To become functional to toot and blair, 
Would’ve been against their beliefs, 
‘Cos they wished for me Christian motifs.  

But that clinic appointment firmly offered, 
As Hereward College would’ve proffered, 
The ability to leave my parents straight, 
To cold shoulder ‘em with my atheist gait. 

So I’d change that, that day at college, 
When an honest answer i didn’t manage, 
To the question of whether or not i did wish, 
To see the doctor, for a needed clinic swish. 

My parental guardian would’ve agreed, 
To that rehab, possibly, ‘cos she did heed, 
That normal script of life and its doors, 
Which opened to me any path on my shores. 

She told me i could do just as i pleased, 
And life any life i wished to, she greased; 
She was fighting on my side, in my corner, 
For my dignity, happiness and honour. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.


This morning I waved goodbye to Summer. I watched as it pulled away, taking with it the swim parties, barbecues, shorts and flip flops. It promised to return next year, but l couldn't stop a longing tear from escaping my no-longer-fashionably-shaded eyes. Such a warm and giving friend, whose offerings included flowers, vegetables, fruit.

I turned and trudged sadly into my buttoned up, stuffy house. The leaves' dry fingers scratched longingly at the windows, as if they knew a warm fire and a sip of hot cider is all they needed to restore their former glory. I mourned my sunscreen and lemonade, and stared longingly at my beach towel and chair.

Suddenly, feeling my life was fated to become as pasty as my skin, I realized that the cold shoulder was mine. Winter had blown into my life with boisterous aplomb, bringing cocoa and sweaters and snowmen, and it was me who rejected her and hibernated from her offers of ski trips and skates.

It was as if I had been eating only oatmeal until now: I was malnourished and had missed out on the flavor of life! How boring would be the artist's canvas that contained only one color, one stroke, one perspective. So I welcomed my new friend Winter, in all her frigid fabulousness, with gingerbread and egg nog, and we began the journey to understanding together.

Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Bad Weather

Shes got the warmth of the sun
in her soul
her  lips are so 
deep in her eyes are galaxies
that will leave you lost
in fantasies

but now she stares at me
with those eyes so cold 
and gives me cold shoulder 
like icicles
her lips so cold 
they froze her
her heart so cold
i cant hold her

I need you like a heart needs to beat
I need you like a man needs to breath
but you dont even understand me

because i crushed her heart 
like black pepper
and tears fell down
like bad weather
No you dont understand me

I dream we'll float
through needles eyes
conqure our passions 
like revenging tyrants
Mend our frayed 
blue wickered souls
and prick our hearts
with the antidote
In this twisted world
I'll love you twistedly 
I'll climb the Greatwall 
I'll fly from the moon 
to the earth to you
And atlast live the refused

But you do understand me

Because I crushed her heart
like black pepper
and tears fell down 
like bad weather
No you dont understand me

Copyright © Apache Tears | Year Posted 2014

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.



We used to be
so close and tight
like sisters should be
a bond brighter than light

But one day I noticed
You colder and distant
Lashing out over nothing
turning more a stranger than a sister

Over time the abyss
only grew and got deeper
Our talks became sparse
Our love, a mere whisper

From talking daily
To almost never
From understanding
To a cold shoulder
From more than blood
to an almost stranger

I lost my best friend
my confidant
my shadow

But that's how life works
some people come, some go
some hurt more, some less
that's how we learn...
that's how we grow...

January 11, 2017

Copyright © Claudia Polydoro | Year Posted 2017

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mongrels of Mischief: An Introduction into Mischief Pt 1

It was somewhere in Cambridge, when the amalgam of substances 
began to cloud our judgment. 
The changes were between vague and blatantly obvious, but 
we were masters at this terrifying craft. 
A small dose of opiates added with  
at least two beers causes a distorted reality. 
Nothing too off the wall except for the truth in knowing 
you can’t fly among the stars above the mortals. 
Four misguided miscreants let loose upon the England populous. 
God help poor Britannia! 

Usually at the helm of this godforsaken voyage, was Tony. 
His plans were often of ridiculous proportions 
many which either involved an attractive woman or 
a ruckus full of dangerous consequences.  
 A vulgar yet honest vagrant.
Dante was a force to be reckon with. 
Not only did he talk a big game, but he also delivered. 
He was a Ciroc and Patron connoisseur with a
knowledge of the appropriate attire for any occasion.
A savant of the good life. 
Rico was small but dangerous. 
A mellow individual with words cool enough 
to give the devil a cold shoulder. 
The cool head amidst our savage expeditions 
except when the spirits possessed him 
causing a unique transformation. 
A human wrecking ball of loose inhibitions. 
Finally, there was me. 
A laid back but slightly eccentric hedonist. 
Forever seeking for any instant gratification and 
always serving a dish of offbeat worldly wisdom to the masses.
An aimless joker who does what he please. 

The streets of Cambridge are gruesome at night. 
All types of freaks, monsters and nutcases 
under the guise of party addicts fiending for the next fix. 
We were just like these misfits
 only further down the rabbit hole.  
What seemed like a stroll into the seedy nightlife 
soon became a submersion into another dimension. 

Our mannerisms became over exaggerated. 
The pleasant embrace of euphoria was as if
the good Lord touched the depths of our souls. 
Warmth, peace and relaxation….
Tranquility of mind, body and spirit… 
A transcendence into Nirvana… 
Thanks to the sweet nectar from 
the land of milk and honey. 
Mother of God, this was amazing! 
This is a high we didn’t want to come down from! 
To onlookers we were madmen; 
a product of the uncanny side of the spectrum.  
However, little did they know 
we were gods among mortals.

Our illuminating vibe attracted a 
group of voluptuous women. 
In this instant, Tony decided to seize the moment.
Using charms only he could apply, he 
stated a question: “Hey! What that mouth do?”  
The lovely raven-haired woman of the group 
responded with an immediate action of a lustful kiss. 
It was a mixture of seductive and sensuous 
with a spontaneous flair. 
The woman replied, “That’s what my mouth does.” 
Tony was at a loss for words. 
I had full belief this woman was a man-eater. 
Somehow with a simple kiss she managed 
to swallow Tony whole. 
After the encounter, the group vanished 
within the night.  

Cheshire cat grins encompassed 
our faces. 
Even though this event was minor, 
we knew it was the beginning to a series 
of outlandish events. 

Copyright © Ty Townsend | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cold Shoulder Poem | Create an image from this poem.


I need some self-control…
I need some courage right this instant
Boldness and brilliance is on my tongue…
Bravery was always my middle name…
But, I need His Holy Spirit as a whole…
I need some patience and strength 
To get through this tiresome night…I’m like a busy, little ant…
My head is in the clouds
My head’s been wandering ‘round in shrouds
Of gold, silver and bronze
I want to be a shining sun and a shimmering moon
Real soon, it’ll be a full moon…
I’m a fool for taking wisdom for granite 
I didn’t mean to take advantage of friendship
I need to get a grip…
Tears are falling out of my eyes
Can’t stand the senseless lies
The anxiety took advantage of me
The sadness is behind me now
Somehow, I raise a brow
Thinkin’ to myself, “How the hell did I make it throughout the years!?”
I want some happiness in my life
I want some gladness instead of endless strife
I want His love from above, not hell from down below
Show me a reason to live life to the fullest
When my tunnel leads to darkness to the best of its ability
I need some sustainability…
I need some rest 
Because I tried my best,
Trying so hard to believe in myself
I feel so down – gravity pushes me way, way down
I’m still wearing an upside down frown
Get out of town because I’m wasting time…
I’m as worthless as a rusty dime
Yet, my humility is getting me somewhat happy…
My pride leaves me feelin’ so crappy…
Yet, I feel so alone
On my own…
And I don’t want to feel for you anymore…
No more madness and sadness…
I’m sick of the daily dose of distress
I need some kind of season of love
Because I can’t stop thinking of
Out of the blue…
God has given me some perseverance today
I’ve been having it my way
Until my perverse mouth poured forth vain things
Profanity, agony and insanity is in my brew of coffee
I cracked up some dirty jokes 
That can give someone a heart attack…
I lack self-control
I’m such a fool
Fill in my hole…
Of loneliness…I’m swimming in the pleasureless pool
Everything happened so quickly…
I was on Cloud a million till you left me with me…
Till you left me with me…
And I am fragile and young…still, a wise dork
That is like a rotting plate of pork
I’ve been feeling the need to lean on someone’s shoulder…  
Because I’m as stiff as ever like a blasted boulder
You turned the cold shoulder
Because I’m the water under the bridge
I need His Holy Ghost
I need it so badly…something I won’t boast about
His Fruit is delicious and delectable 
I’m like an unstable table…
My story will be told like a silly, wonderful, childlike fable
I suppose I was just another label 
In society…
My only plea…
Is to see you exultant…
Because you are excellent
In my eyes…
In my longing, sea-forest (green-blue) eyes…
I’m very unable to crawl out of depression’s reach
I’m like a beach 
Without its crazy-cool water source…
without its sun-shining, sly seagulls… 
Without its coursing, whirling wind…

I need perseverance 
I need some sort of reverence
Towards Him…
He’s my one and only whim
He’s a radiant remembrance
My scatter-brained skull
And my sluggish soul 
Are seeking evanescence…
Positivity and optimistic spirits zip through my lane of thought
Despite usual negative, pessimistic and horrid little notions…
I’m feeling okay – just hand me passionate potions
So, I can drink my life away…so, I can drown away all egotistical emotions 
My reputation may be in pieces…
God, You know that I tried to keep it peaceful
Tranquility isn’t always my cup of tea…
If you know what I mean…I get so regretful
And I want to fly away and be free…

God knows I’ve tried…
Satan isn’t going to intervene with my love toward Him…
My one and only whim.

Copyright © J.W. Earnings | Year Posted 2016