Best Crueler Poems
PINK TENNIS SHOES
I mother always pride galore
until the words from daughter abhor.
Her gentle heart and loving embrace
smashing to pieces. She fell from grace.
Her untied tenny shoe, wrapped and tight
around her bike, could free no might.
Mommy checking faithful each half hour
found her daughter helpless, no power.
Down the hill mommy went
no time was wasting nor was spent.
The wind passed threw my long hair locks
when shock took over from what I got.
Not what I thought from bike I bought
but cruelest words, my life distraught.
From those lips kissed each night to bed
not once, nor twice, but thrice to head.
“Hurry up old lady” from my daughter
how my heart bleed of tears and water.
For no words crueler ever sere spoke.
My shame, the horror on face neighborhood folk.
My tail between my legs indeed
got there, put there by my third bore seed.
And mothers day and birthday too
three days from now turn 45, BOO-HOO!
Never knew my aging beauty fade
would be this hard for the lies I’ve made.
Lies I’ve told to self each day
that children’s love fulfillment may.
So on this very special mothers day
this “old lady” family f--- off say.
Nothing is crueler than the need to satisfy man's inhumanity...The Poet
My heart cracked when I saw you there
those pained eyes with your empty stare
the state of your life is a stain
and will cause my tears to remain
the air is a bottomless gray
to breathe till' death and here you'll stay
this zoo's small cage is not your choice
you are dying, I won't rejoice
If you could spread your wings you'd fly
far above clouds, you'd reach so high
sadness is that you'll never know
the mountain tops covered in snow
you're a Condor waiting to die
you'll never glide high in the sky
a prisoner who sits alone
to never soar in the unknown
1/12/22
contest C form-couplet
sponsor Constance La France
chosen word-Cracked
An Evil War
They walk the plains of sun-dried grass,
together in a row;
the mothers, with their young ones, pass
to search for food and go
for miles with thirst to find a drink;
as dry season appears.
They walk along, each one in sync,
alert with eyes and ears.
On different paths, the males walk too
to feed as they patrol,
and somehow they, with inner clue,
all find a water hole.
And peacefully they live their days,
adapt to nature's reign
that serves them well to drink and graze
and procreate their strain.
But space in their domain is less...
encroached by humankind,
uncaring of the crowding stress
they leave on them behind.
Still worse, they have become aware
of threats of crueler kind,
and learned to watch, to hide, beware
of horrors which they find.
So oft they see a sight disturbed...
sprawled out along their path;
a member of their precious herd...
they trumpet loud with wrath.
They stop and mourn like humans do,
stand vigil, shocked and chilled;
caress the faceless friend they knew...
who for his tusks...was killed.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Evil Is Everywhere
Sponsor: Brian Davey
Judged: 10/08/2016
BBC News: The War On Elephants: April 28, 2016
"Bloated and eerily upright the large adult elephant was still standing where it had been killed - just next to the stream - its face hacked off....It had been fleeing the carnage in the mud 100m or so away, where the remains of four other adults and one young elephant lay fallen and disfigured, their tusks and trunks all taken for ivory and meat. Like a macabre statue, this faceless animal stood as a landmark to the horrors of poaching, of the ivory trade, and of the mass slaughter of the last remaining elephants in central Africa...
“It's worth so much more than just the animals. It's about trying to stabilise a whole region which has been unstable for decades. It's about trying to basically build peace. And that is why we wake up every morning, why everyone fights this war, and why we try and save the elephants. It's about basically saving Congo. On 23 April 2016, three rangers were killed in a fresh clash with poachers. Park manager Erik Mararv and another ranger were badly injured."
Three Roses
Three roses all in array
Let me still capture while I may
And try to remember another time
When you were young
and we were strong
The roles we felt we had to play
To help you blossom and not sway
From the crueler winds that might bend
you in a different way
But you prevailed against the gales
To be where you are today
You keep on sprouting as we grow old
Now you are strong because of love
And now three roses have their buds
2001-2005-2008
All the markings of danger read,
actions upon it make you dead;
back off from it by prudence's stead.
King cobra fangs and crueler things,
cautions wary and messages brings;
attacks come like a siren sings.
A ship captain must know to moor,
when typhoon waves strike the shore;
a trap is set as in classical lore.
Knaves and scholars face equal risk,
the silent sudden attack is brisk;
the unforeseen trap is swift as a whisk.
A man, a warrior makes plans in haste,
he has no time for justice to waste;
but wisdom tells the poison pill is laced.
While playing the card game “Euchre”
The phrase you've been “Trumped” causes furor
Yanks have been thumped
Or perhaps “Trumped”
It's not just a card game, it's much crueler
A woman who lost everything she owns stands there
by the waterfront where the waves beat upon the shore.
The woman-transformed-***** is a prisoner of war
being carried to the foreign land of an enemy general
across the sea; she cries ceaselessly tears in her eyes
for the unbearable sorrow, she barks fiercely in intolerable anger.
In the eyes of the woman who gazes up
the top of heaven from the bottom of the deepest sea.
She sees the last images of her blood-stained husband,
her dear sons and daughters, died in agony.
For her husband, she shared everything she owned;
for her children, she cradled and lulled them in her bosom to raise—
except for one son who was abandoned in the field at the time of his infancy because of an oracular ill omen.
All these sorrows are unwanted bitter memories to recall, crueler than
the cruelest fate for a woman to undergo.
Now, she climbs higher up the mast
to appeal to her deep inner heart’s mortification;
to let others see her transmuted figure, an ugly *****,
her annoying bark reaches to the furthest point of the sea.
Is Amphitrite heard her heartrending cry?
For the ship lists by the billow Poseidon rises,
alas, but then, she loses her balance and falls
to the deck vomiting blood, she ends her pathetic life;
this *****’s resentment tossed by the raging waves,
at the end, was thrown upon the shore and became a standing rock.
The rock beckons the ships that pass the straits to tell her grudge,
but to the heedless seafarers’ ears it sounds like the mere surges
that come and hit the rock. However, at times, it sounds
in their ears, like a ***** barking feebly from her bleeding heart
because of all her puppies are taken away;
that’s why, legend says,
the sailors called this rock “the poor *****’s rock.”
Broremann’s war
Spring, 1945, German troops in his town were walking about not
carrying arms, they spoke to the locals in a friendly manner.
Looking back it was peace before the peace. Near Broremann's home
there was a tall house occupied by old non- commissioned officers,
middle-aged men in their thirties with children, gave the kids
chocolate and sweets (after the war the building was taken over by
Mormons).
British troops arrived, put a canteen in a disused fish factory,
the German troops had surrendered. Broremann got white bread
with spam from the British. The Germans left by train; many
of the town´s people came to wave goodbye, there was no
dislike against the common soldiers, wrath was directed at the
local Gestapo who had betrayed their country by being crueler
than the enemy and by sporting rimless Himmler glasses.
Years later Broremann met a docker in Hamburg who had spent
five war years in his town. They drank together and declared
it had been a peaceful war.
Three Roses My Lovely Children
Let me capture while I may
All three roses in array
And try and remember another time
When you were young and we were strong
The roles we felt we had to play
To help you blossom and not sway
From the crueler winds that you might stray
or turn you in a different way
But you prevailed against the cold
To sprout anew as we grow old
You received a gift from God above
Now you are strong because of love
Once you were small and played in mud
Now each of you has grown a bud
My Lovely Children Contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo
February 18, 2016
8/21/17
"
Taking swigs
Continuing to dig
Doing it big
Bada-bing
Crown me I am king
Doing my thing
Toward the fences I swing
My all I bring
Sting like a bee, And knock them out the ring
Ding
Ding
Ding
It ain't no thing but a chicken wing
They were holding on by a string
Unable to cling
Now in a sling
Few cooler
Or crueler
A little bit of Ferris Bueller
Call me the super duper ruler
Being a doer
Nevermind the rumors
A good sense of humor
Maneuvered
Throughout the sewer
Even when a junior
On a scooter
Anger, dolent, satisfaction.
I dont understand the feelings
What is it? Where is it? How can I avoid it?
No,
How can i get it?
Satisfaction. I want it
But the anger. The compressed emotions
People uttered
Whynis it still going around me?
Covering every inch of my soul.
I lost my mind atleast another thousand times
Should I stop? But nothing is crueler than dream ends midway.
I whelve the seed. Balter around it. Holding the most genuine smile
Shinier than the gates of heaven
Its not raining, just tears.
of anger, hatred
form into and ocean, when turns into a thread it could reach the sun
It's a curious thing
The death of a foe
The helpless last breath
When their heart is in my hand
seconds before death
How does it feels like
Putting a foe underneath some sheet
For them to never wake up
The apple turns red. Beautiful
How I wish to see it rots in their body
Rots with the poison I created
Oh, how beautiful it is
Turning red to blue that ends with black
If blinking save you from the hand of death,
I would cut off my eyelids and make an art out of it
Beauty is what I see
Last breath step out. Far from the body
Forced
Mixed with thousand winds
Goodbye to the screams
Echoed in the hallway
Hello to the creeping silence
Dark
but without it, we can't see the stars
To surpass the monster, I'm willing to abandon my humanity
I realized that anger is inevitable
The life i created for myself
In my head, crawling to the gates of reality
Living peacefully in me
The monstrous
Nothing else,
just stars
He discovered many lands, yet he was still an oppressor.
This place they called home, he was willing to conquer.
They would have been prepared for a tragic disaster,
Had they not been blind and thought of him as master
The sailors brought swords and were much more clever.
Like plants, their bodies were just left there to wither.
Beaten and deprived of that which they foster,
The pain and suffering they could bear no longer.
To have them not think that they were more fairer,
An infinite amount were destroyed through slaughter
To take into account an act more crueler,
On my very soul this event has put a damper.
What was back then, to be extinct hereafter,
Many presumed as a cultural encounter.
©RashanaKing2010
Peeking at myself from a narrow gap
I felt as if looking at my bill after a long nap
If I don’t pay my debt because of indulgence
My card will surely be cancelled
Sometimes reality is crueler than a murderer
Definitely, the reality is crueler than a debt collector
But, you accept me as I am
Including my weakness
I know you are also weak
We weakers will be fated with weaker ends
However, we are having nicer weekends
Sometimes reality is crueler than a murderer
Definitely, the reality is crueler than a debt collector
But, you accept me as I am
Including my poverty
I know you are also poor
We poorers will be happy with small things
That is why, we are singing many love songs
I'm sorry I came here.
I'm sorry I let you trick me.
You have them all convinced they need you.
I do not.
I'm sorry that it seems no one cares
Whether this world is alive or dead.
May I believe in something?
May I please
Have a greater reason to live?
I wake in hopeful rebirth
I want this to work, you know that.
Our cycle:
I walk in with tranquility or determination,
My heart beats fast or slow,
I am silent or resounding.
It's not enough.
Did you plan it this way?
I see robots and I know their every move.
What do they have
That chains them to monotony?
Were they not here the day before?
Why should you live?
Don't you dare degrade my passion.
I am here to learn and live.
If you are not,
So be it.
Had I a crueler bone, I would end your life.
Would you stop me?
Don't you say I am a blaming fool,
For I'm the one that's sorry.
I'm so sorry that I play this way.
I need it:
Love and passion.
Don't role your eyes at me.
What do you worship?
Money and half truths?
Just getting by, are you?
It hurts me.
Enthusiasm fermenting to frustration,
Mad sad, sad isolation.
Give me something more than words.
My joyfulness,
I could adore you.
I'm sorry that is wrong.
To Phillip, a Child I Lost
Dear One, you were so small, and helpless.
Against the onslaught of Fate, the will of God.
You were such a tiny thing, a spouted seed, resting there,
Within the dark uncertain confines of my womb.
But you had life, you were a living, throbbing soul.
The most marvelous and beautiful of God's creations, a Human being.
They ask how I could love you, Whom I never held.
A babe who never suckled at my breast.
But you were mine, a product of my love
A part of me, and him I hold most dear.
Dark is the womb, but crueler is this world.
This cold world you'll never get to see.
Dear one, I am empty now, no small helpless life waits there within me.
So I must say good by, to the Son I never held but loved.
God in His wisdom and matchless love, looked fondly from His throne
And picked a bud before it ever bloomed.
To compliment the roses in His vast Bouquet.
Dear One, you will never be cold or hungry or alone.
You will never fight a war or know the shame of sin.
You are very blessed and loved, by your Mother and your God.
Dear One, very soon, a dark-haired woman will enter there
To be greeted by her Savior and a smiling babe...