Best Cruelties Poems
When I became a mother, tremendous joy filled my heart,
But little did I know about this journey at the start.
I thought I knew what Love is, even Love profound,
With every cry and coo, every babbling, baby sound.
All my protective instincts kicked in naturally
And giving was a pleasure to my child, especially.
My heart was filled with Love to a degree without scope.
Everything of myself I invested in the center of my hope.
All the times when my child was so sick and listless;
Although I did all I could, I felt completely helpless.
Then all the worldly woes my child would be subjected to,
Like in school, the bullying, they'd have to suffer through;
All the cruelties of life a mother would gladly take on
To spare her child grief and sorrow, a mother woebegone.
All the sleepless nights don't end in their infancy,
They're just the prelude to all the years of worry yet to be.
When the teen years roll in though and on into early adult,
Mother becomes rather unimportant, is blamed for all the fault.
Suddenly the mother becomes stupid, the teen knows everything
And feels embarrassed when mother, along with, they must bring.
Many hurtful words are said that stab and bleed a mother's heart,
But unconditional Love remains though her heart is torn apart.
Still, her child is her child to Love, to guide, protect;
Harm her child and mother's wrath one won't wish to resurrect.
When one becomes a mother, there are years of sacrifice;
This role is for life and can't be bought for any price.
Each memory she cherishes, sustains her when she's forgotten.
Still she'll never trade for anything a child she's begotten.
A voluntary position with demands like no other role,
A mother signs on for, for life to always Love another soul.
I thought I knew what Love is, even Love profound,
Until with motherhood I was blessed and forever crowned.
When I became a mother and a life was trusted in my care,
So much more I understood for it's then I became aware
Of all my Mother's endless Love, multiplied by ten.
As a mother, from a mother, I've learned what Love is time and time again.
Entered in 'Non Romantic Love - Poetry Contest'
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
2018-04-07
Lost all alone.
Waiting patiently for companionship.
Reruns of the old.
Savage cruelties unleashed.
Unable to share this.
An undesirable partner.
Giving with nothing recieved.
Demanding any explanation.
Stripped of all dignity.
Left naked and weak.
Deserving of much.
Accredited none.
No experience fair.
Doesn't matter to any.
Unrelenting heartbreak.
Administered by most.
Cared by none.
Forgiveness unaccepted.
Lost all alone.
Of all old friends, those we have of old are best;
These the souls we travel with by preference,
Theirs the spirits to whom we grant all deference.
Their hopes are ours, ours their own;
All victories shared, from like ambitions grown.
Their years match step with ours,
Show like passage of the hours,
Silent steps of Time with which our lives are sown.
They are moved as we are moved;
Troubled and pleased by like turns of Fate,
We pass through one another's gates
Into rooms where loyalty is proved
By ties of woven sympathies,
By bonds no outsider sees.
By bonds no outsider sees
We tie ourselves to those who share
The pithy heart of all unspoken cares,
The shadows that would dim our days
If no one shared our private ways,
If none there were to let us know
The fitness of the face we dare not show;
The old friend nods and quietly stays
Close by our side when mere acquaintance leaves,
Unashamed to share our darkest inner night;
Awaits with us the slow return of light.
The old friend trusts and faithfully believes
The tales we tell ourselves of joy or sorrow,
Looks to yesterday and forward to tomorrow.
Looking back to yesterday. forward to tomorrow,
We walk with them through the wilderness of living
Thankful for their presence and forgiving,
As do we, the flaws that mark our human bounds
Ignoring discordant notes that sound
From time to time in all the narrative
We build to define our days and give
Form and substance to the constant rounds
Of night to day and day to night,
Our mutual progress towards Eternity,
The approaching dark we do not wish to see
Unless in company with the comforting light
Of well-earned close companionship,
Of sympathetic souls who join us on the trip.
Seeking truths wherein the brave heart delves,
We guide each other through dwindling days
To face the world, to learn its ways,
Its cruelties and its beauties shared
Both the better for each time we dared
To question this, our common Lot:
To Be, awhile, and then to Not.
So we share all we have got
To fill our time, to weave our lives.
Without old friends, the path is drear and long,
Where goes but one to compose the song
To tell of what we were, and how we strived
To rescue Sense from Folly, all the rest;
Of all friends, those we have of old are best.
The Calamity of Nepal Part 2 Concluded
The crisis of Nepal is not only the result
Of manmade deeds and erratic constructions
Of erecting unplanned houses and roads
Creating illegal buildings and dams
And erecting high mountain reservoirs
On ocean like river Brahmaputra. 08
All these and many other
Horrible acts
Of changing or removing the mountain peaks
For roads, rails and for
Making concrete jungles
Without caring that
It is the most sensitive area of Earth
Where two giant Earth plates
Meet regularly almost everyday
Not for making gossips
But for making their kind of Love
Where, they often collide with each other
To determine, who has lost and who has won
These forces create
Havocs like the one we are witnessing in Nepal
They do it to take revenge
For the cruelties
Done by humans with the Nature
And with the mother earth. 09
The Earthquake is also the result
Of hollowing the heart of Himalaya
For making tunnels after tunnels and rails
For mining the hills and
Deforesting the green valleys
Removing forests after forests
For illegal mining and for erecting dams
For these reasons perhaps
The Earthquakes has hit Nepal and India both
But in Nepal it has done the worst
In spite of being affected by this crisis too
India is trying its best to help the people of Nepal
And now there are many other countries
Trying and helping the people of Nepal
Like a true good neighbor and well wisher. 10
All that is needed
In the hour of this terrible crisis
Is that we all should try to help
The people of Nepal
Treating them like our own
Next door neighbors and friends
For which every faith and religion
Always inspires us. 11
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 30th April 2015
A wounded animal retreats to the scrub,
where anything worth saving lives.
It licks wounds inflicted by a wicked, wind-whipped world.
Filled with big stone faces, unsmiling.
The wounded animal re-emerges with a perfected limp.
One eye missing, the one that viewed the cruelties.
Fur matted by fingerprints, uncaring.
Hunger and anger are its only remaining God.
In time, everything transforms.
The rotten freshens.
Eye sockets fill with colored stones.
Ugly will beatify.
The angry limp becomes an exotic floating blossom.
That only exiled Buddhas and black cherubs dare recognize.
my ghost has found
it's resting place
its forever wondering
has found its grace
and leaving no longer
has to be
no more running from
violence or infidelity
no need to escape
undue influence
by cruelties
of loud spoken words
free to be me
with thee who chooses me
and rest in ever waiting arms
ever beside me
every dawn
my ghost has
found its resting place
evil creatures of the night
careless beings that share no light
no giving beyond giving just enough
no sacrifice beyond anything tough
their only focus was what
i had to give
never on what i needed to live
they pulled me down far enough
into my own self and once again
i was alone
but alas
in running i found a space
a friendly heart and loving face
at first i saw it
i was in love
my spirit was lifted
heavenward
as we both took
our tiny little steps
each in the same direction
with each height and with each depth
the music began to play again
the harps the violins
the sun made things grow again
the violet and the rose
and the God who seemed
so far far away
started blessing
and seemed to stay
and i knew
my ghost had found
its resting place and home
with you
and you alone
They are refugees in their own country.....
No land for them to go. No body care them either
They are known as refugees in their own country
War brought uncertainty in their lives
and made them to live in refugee camps forever
They travel long distance along the road
with their hand cart of chattels
while their tears rolling over their eyes
Parents are thinking about their children's future
and children hate to see their parents suffering
Many years have been gone and nothing has been done
The war is still going on without any improvement
Because of our careless and adamant leadership
the innocent people are still living in refugee camp
They are victims of diseases, accidents, violence, poverty
kidnaps, rapes and cruelties towards humanity
Let us join together and save these innocent people
from the hands of uncivilized people on earth.
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
All rights are reserved 2014
You come into my world
a child of mine
of heart and mind creation
sweetly under my flair
following my soul
tracing my steps
growing to a tremendous wealth
encoding my particles.
Soulless, dry lands
under your sway
strike gold.
In tune with my aches
you turn wild hearing my chuckles
reposing your whole on my chest
waiting for my muse to awake.
Of my grip, now at liberty
you outgrow my rooms
claiming your fame
a world of your own
you set your very rules and truths
pearls of wisdom
you conceive collections
you portray cruelties
Love glorified
Hate on the loose
you shake minds, weaken hearts
souls drift
lose sight and shore
Pain and joy you cause
fear you strike
spells you do break
a sleeping beauty you enchant awake.
Powerful and persuasive as you are
you stir emotions to life and death
your decipherer you bewitch and hypnotise
Renowned for your feats of relief and healing
I am into your world
paradoxically under your flair
you create my world!
August 24th, 2018
If I were your love, who deeply cared for you,
I would wipe the tears of anguish from your eyes,
And I would plant poignant kisses on your cheeks,
Telling you, you are my beloved I recognize!
Gone through sufferings for many long dreary years,
From abject loneliness, severe heartache and pain,
I am the only one who can truly fathom your plight,
I am the one who would make you exultant again !
You deserved to be treated with kindness and respect,
Someone cruel unjustly denied you your right,
I would be your true friend, your devoted company,
Your confidant, no more alone you need to fight.
If I were your love, we would find pure happiness
In each other's passionate arms, we trust each other,
All the cruelties in the world - will be defeated
To true fervent romantic love, that's no wonder!
May 1, 2023
"If I Were Your Love" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
FIRST PLACE
O tender soul, o innocence defiled,
What cruelties did your youth upend?
Tormented by she who should cherish her child,
Instead her addictions made her your fiend.
Those eyes that should have beamed with a mother's love,
Grew cold and contemptuous in the throes of her vice.
What horrors played out in that hellish dugout,
As her demons unleashed their malicious device?
Did her hands that were meant to soothe and caress,
Leave marks of unspeakable malice instead?
While her harsh words like knives did your spirit suppress,
Leaving your young mind battered and misled.
In that lair where you should have known only grace,
An unholy darkness descended to reign.
Fear and anguish contorting your sweet face,
As her sickness lashed out again and again.
O the trauma embedded, those indelible scars,
That no child should ever have etched on their soul.
Your safe haven perverted by terror's brutal chars,
Stripping security's blanket that should make one whole.
And when at last you were plucked from that pit,
From the hell that your childhood had tragically become,
Other arms tried to embrace and permit
The shattered pieces of you to be some.
But the ghost of those horrors still stalked in your mind,
Echoing torments that never were quieted.
The hyper-vigilance always lurking behind,
As the demons you fled, you could not outride.
For PTSD's insidious grip took its hold,
Replaying those memories of helplessness felt.
The night terrors and flashbacks forever retold,
Of the agonies your young being did pelt.
O you brave, resilient warrior of the soul,
Battered but never defeated by your youth's blight.
The traumas that tried to leave you a haunted, scarred toll,
Could never extinguish your infinite light.
For though she was meant to protect you
Survival can be summed up in three words ~ Never give up! That's the heart of it really. Just keep trying - Bear Gryllis
I thought it would be the death of me
At least the person who lives within
Where silence awakens dreams of intimacy
And caresses the spirit with hopes and prayers
Awakening hues of colorful, captivating
Emotions that welcome the heart to be
Alive with embers of insight and inspiration
Miracles flowing from a well of imagination
Filling the soul with visions of wisdom and
Strength that motivates the will to keep moving
Forward, into the tomorrows where intense
Capacity for creativity and life’s reasons beckon
Healing, forgiveness, mystery in being alive
With joy and the resolve to survive the worst
Move forward and keep going, through the pain
Into the heart of deep affection whispering
Gentle thoughts of passionate ideas that give
The inner person more encouragement to
Endure the cruelties found in this world
And venture out toward the promise of
A new day, a new way, second chances to
Believe, to dream, to be… to just keep trying!
Will to Survive Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
October 9, 2020
when Medusa feathers
of midnight fractals
dip in my soul
and smear
soft hemlock stardust
across the
celestial ceiling ~
smothered with spinel
my shadow seethes
in the scent
of flaming jasmines ~
as I slip
a n d trip ~
drunk upon opium,
cruising in
cursed ventricles,
and pleading
for the release
of my muse ~
perfumed with
pensive passion,
that burns in the
chamomile craters,
courageous
yet clawed
by the cowardice
of your corvid
cruelties …
this heart is a hostage
held in the heat
of hypocrisy ~
hypnotised to the hues
of your heather hush,
tamed to obey
the time-travelling tunes
of the sun and the moon,
who impersonate
the aura of aurelia
yet, breathe the blush
of bitter-silk butterflies ~
illuminated within
the ivory incandescence
of my inkless innocence …
but, still I am immune
to your illusions ,
as I am nevermore ~
an oasis-rose ash
plucked from the
desert of oblivion,
desperate to deem
this desire my own,
before I stretch
these hands of hurt
and block
the periwinkle
pulsations ~
flowing
in the arteries of
arrhythmic
attachment …
My worst enemy is not the passing year,
nor winter waiting at the garden gate;
not loneliness that whispers, “You are here,”
nor all the little cruelties of fate.
My worst enemy has learned my name,
and walks beside me, silent as a shade;
it knows my every weakness, doubt, and shame,
and feeds upon the promises I’ve delayed.
It tells me, “You are old; the road is through.
The dreams you carried have outlived their day.
Why climb the hill? What more remains to do?
Sit down, be still, and let the light decay.”
But I have met this enemy before—
I know its voice, though once I called it me.
It is the fear that closes every door
before the heart discovers it is free."
So let the years come marching as they must;
let autumn take the leaves from every tree.
I may grow old, but I refuse to rust—
my worst enemy is the self I cease to be.
The aged gypsy woman speaks,
A curses ancient spell, a dark ruins incantation,
From ages long ago,
Beneath the full moons illumination, a single red
Drop of human blood is spilt,
Upon the blossoming wolf bang, turning
It velvet shin to redden crimson.
Cruelties hatred and malice, has created
A beast that travels by night alone, underneath tragedies
Fallen sunrise this emotionally crippled animal
Pleads for mercy’s redemption, but it is the shunned
A banished unwanted thing of hell's domesticated
Breed!
Born with the devils marking, his birth right of the
Demonic plague, justifying torturers agonizing
Punishment making it a serial killer by moonlights
Entrapment!
Accursed is he from father to son, until the final seed
Has been made undone, for only the fresh bite of loves
Promised sacrifice, can release him from this fatal curse!
A whispers echoing, is carried upon the night winds
Screaming breathe, run son of the damned, never linger
Too long in this world of man, seek the sheltering shadows
Live by thy own basic instincts of survival, for nothing
Can save your forsaken soul!
Never to love, or be loved in return, for the claws of
Retraction will be the rippling at the throat of loves
Betrayal!
What a blood baths banquet to be served at your bridal
Celebration, the leavening of the intended served on the
Silver platter of regrets feasting table of remorse, beneath
The blackened chapel of the devil’s own kindred!
Within the castle walls that bleed, in the dungeons
Of sorrows cage, the beast of the fields howls at
The elliptical giant above, for it has killed its own
True love, and relished within the murdering!
As the gypsy's woman’s laughter, heckles at him,
The moonlight streams through his cells prison,
Enough you old hag, I’ve had enough,
Begging the jailer, to end his torment,
The man shape shifter, becomes the night stalker,
One single silver shot is fired, leaving
Nothing behind but smokes illusion,
And a hushed whispering of thankfulness,
Is the reprieve of generations of the unborn!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Grandmother Moon cherishes me,
kisses my forehead with her light.
She reigns supreme over her kingdom,
smiling down upon this humble spirit.
I whisper to her of my dreams, hopes
prevailing in spite of the odds.
A tear forms in the corner of my eye
as I challenge her to answer my prayers.
I extend my hand, longing to touch her,
to soak up her ancient wisdom and beauty.
I can feel her gentle smile, she embraces me,
bringing me comfort, her radiance guiding.
She has been witness to the cruelties
of man, more than I could ever imagine.
Broken dreams scattered into the night
her children gather around her, wink at me.
Nissa, Nissa, I cry out to her. Is all lost?
Is there no more hope for my people?
A voice softly answers in my mind,
there is always a glimmer of hope.
Grandmother Moon watches over me,
ruling the tides of my heart, my spirit.
She is listening to me, tasting my tears,
caressing the delicate tendrils of my soul.