Best Curs Poems
Strangers are attacking me;
ruthless men seek my life—
men without regard for God. Selah
Psalm 54:3
GOD SEES THE COURAGEOUS AT WORK
Wild-eyed disregard for God —
The mocking tone, the spittoon.
The leering eyes —
they’re tiger’s eyes.
They plop near the weights —
the courageous snakes, and
throw balls of cannon smoke.
They hope that we will choke.
The courageous throw acid
in a virgin’s angelic face.
The courageous pounds their rusted
nails into fragile wrists and ankle saints —
these innocents whose haloed guardian’s
see the illuminated face of almighty God.
The courageous divide fetus parts,
roll them like dice, put them on display.
The courageous pillage, rape and sodomize
thinking if there’s a God, he will see it as sport.
They drink deeply the heart blood and soul
but none can escape the Ancient of Days.
Life is a pit, a mere hole for the courageous
to drown. They’ve looked for a fiery dragon
And he’s been found, awaiting the demise
of as many curs-ed petals he can find.
Selah…
if only for a moment the dead blinked,
the light of day might have saved their hide.
The brokenhearted will feast at the King’s table.
with no need to fear when evil is deceased.
9/24/2019
Categories:
curs, abortion, christian, dark, murder,
Form:
Free verse
The cruel streets I walked made me sad
I looked not at him, nor at her
Those who passed me by, gutter grads
I felt at home among the curs
We were outcasts from hearth and home
Over the land our kind did roam.
Looking here and then searching there
As many as stars in the sky
By foot, by car, sometimes by air
We wanted to understand why
We couldn't go back where we'd been
Burned our bridges and that's a sin.
Some were poets within their hearts
A killer or two in the crowd
And some were like me; a la carte
Doing what it took to be proud
Some chased women, some ran from them
And in the melee some lost a gem.
I sit here writing words of mine
Wondering how many are left
Who write words and sell for a dime
I have escaped death's cold, cold theft
I have fought the fight and I've won
I'm old yes, but I've just begun
Categories:
curs, urban, voyage,
Form:
Rhyme
Songs Of Power
(Lost As Blackness Invades)
Where the agony invades life seems in blurs,
And the long nights eat the fruited trees,
And later, night dreams stalk barking curs
Where blue-red tides overcome futile pleas.
Across infinite space--thoughts dreaded
And blood-lust seeking new infesting homes,
Deeper into darkness the Soul is headed
against its will- the mind wickedly roams.
Bright roses once bloomed in this castle dark,
Violets arose to soon die in vanished splendor
Where shadow raced to eat resting meadowlark,
Bound and chained heart goes with its sender.
Sorrow alights- in its ebony spreading cloak,
as storms slash across the turbulent seas,
Speared in the chest and rotting shaft broke
cried for and nothing found to appease.
No relief! Falling stars batter forsaken mind,
fiery reds cover vanishing jungles greens
Life in its mysteries, finds room to be unkind
as purple hearts- grace such melancholy scenes!
Death of innocence, once dark strain all too real
jungles evergreen, turn to exploding red,
Where death invades, soldiers always ready to kill,
war and its eternal darkness, await the dead.
While man thus cursed, seeks illusionary gains!
Darkness cast forth from Souls feeling no pains!
11-08-2015
For contest- Songs Of Power
Song chosen-
Paint It Black - Rolling Stones:
Categories:
curs, allegory, death, humanity, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Within a catcher, dreams do scream
feathers redeem
man's sullied soul
sweet dreams the goal
Within their vanes they transfix
each demon lick
each channeling's
imaginings
Within the web they flutter, curs
nightmare mutters
beaded offerings
each feather sings
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest: Just a Minute!
Date 10/20/12
*It is believed that the origin of the Native American dream catcher (or Indian dream catchers) is from the Ojibwa Chippewa tribe.
Categories:
curs, native american, dream, dream,
Form:
Rhyme
Don’t look into his soul on this all hallows eve,
for it takes just a glance to be gripped by his spell.
What starts out as a dream quickly spirals to hell
where your mind will see things you don’t want to believe.
As macabre and unearthly scenes interweave
you’ll be roused from your sleep by the clock’s baleful knell.
Don’t look into his soul on this all hallows eve,
for it takes just a glance to be gripped by his spell,
then entombed between worlds, death from life will not cleave,
in a state of decay you’ll eternally dwell.
If it happens to you, you'll have no voice to tell,
curs-ed eyes will see all, but your last breath will leave.
Don’t look into his soul on this all hallows eve.
Categories:
curs, holiday
Form:
Rhyme
"Hyar she comes! The weekly stagecoach is a-comin' to old Santa Fe!"
The driver cracked his whip and blowed his klaxon to herald the way!
The weekly arrival of the stagecoach was cause fer raucous celebration!
The town's ne'er-do-wells found another excuse fer excess inebriation!
The excited citizens one and all awaited its arrival with bated breath,
To see and greet the motley rogues brought to town by the driver, Seth!
Seth descended from his perch midst snarlin' curs and guttersnipes,
Gun-totin' hangers-on, genteel ladies, the sheriff and other sundry types.
Grizzled Seth cut loose a stream of cussin' and in a furious rage,
Yelled, "You'uns clear the way and let them people git off'n the stage!"
His bedraggled passengers set foot on the dusty streets of old Santa Fe,
Happy to be relieved of the stagecoach's nauseous lurch and sway!
The Baptist Ladies Guild gasped when down stepped a lady of the night,
But she was greeted by the fellers of Buster's Saloon with a cry of delight!
Next was a feller all dressed in black scannin' the crowd with a gloomy glower.
He was a preacher-man causin' fellers from Buster's Saloon to cringe and cower!
A steely-eyed dude with 44s on his hips viewed the mob with condescension,
But his shifty manner put the sheriff on alert and merited his attention!
Down stepped a foppish dandy wearin' diamonds and dressed in fine attire.
He was a gamblin' man aimin' to see how much town capital he might acquire!
Seth hollered, "All aboard! I gotta git to Albuquerq' by six tonight!"
He whipped his steeds to a gallop and soon old Santa Fe was outta sight!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
curs, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
THE BRIDLE OF LOVE
Put on the bridle of love, or the dark places
Will inhabit your soul like a dream of plunder:
Put on the bit of desire, lest the old faces
Merge in passionate moments and betray wonder.
You pledge only with the combat of the hours
Your words fall in the silence, like coins jingling
Into the hand of the fortune-teller, who scours
Your reverie of love on your palm, tingling
Of a stranger. You are an actuary where a shadow
Turns fascination to death. Put on the bridle
Of tenderness - forgiveness, sad and low,
Can whistle with the raindrops, idle
As witnesses of profound truth. Curs
Snap at gentleness when their hunger stirs.
Categories:
curs, allegory, animal, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Dogs
loyal, friendly
licking, playing, rescuing
companions, sentries, threats, enemies
barking, biting, mauling
mean, mangy
Curs
Categories:
curs, anger, devotion, dog, friend,
Form:
Diamante
The modern Knight
The Knight of the realm ,
Was a great man of courage,
Who protected the people,
Got dubbed by the King,
The bravest of brave,
Moralitys brightest,
Loved by the people,
Now the rich mans plaything???
But it became some snobs, crass title,
Given to Kerrs, and curs aint the thing,
Class distinction, from above, call me mister or sir?
The greatest of toads, to serve the toad master,
Brown nose, hum dingers, billy stinkers, I ching,
Gee golly they call me mr or sir?
Right next to the saints,
I’ve risen old thing,
To keep me head down,
I’ll need on me bridle,
A martingale strong,
So me head doesn’t sing…
Don Johnson
THE ONE WHO ALLOWED 12 ATOM BOMBS EXPLODED HERE IN AUSTRALIA GOT KNIGHTED FOR SERVICE TO THE QUEEN:}
ONLY 12 THOUSAND AUSSIES DEAD FROM STRONTIUM 90 IN THE MILK, AND ALL THE LITTLE KIDDIES GOT IT AT SCHOOL TOO IN THE FIFTYS... I REFUSED TO DRINK MILK AINT I LUCKY ???
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHBLBkYiCK4
check it out if you don't believe :{
Categories:
curs, adventure,
Form:
Epitaph
The war-dogs chew at the throat of Man,
Killing as canines can,
With drooling jowls and fetor that fouls
The air, with harrowing warrior-howls--
They herald the End with their yelps and yowls.
Categories:
curs, war
Form:
Verse
Smell Clean!
Sometimes
no rhymes
do we
all see.
Blogs read
instead
can be
ugly.
Some peeps
are creeps.
So sly -
they spy
like moles
in holes.
Yes, sirs,
those curs
bait lambs
and ma’mes.
Some joke
with folk
or tease
blog-ees
Don’t mind
those kind!
But they
can say
mean things
with zings
to poke
at folk;
start fight -
they bite!
As hogs
at blogs
they squeal
to feel
like Kings
of things.
Beware
them there.
Shy guys,
be wise.
Just stay
away.
Trolls might
one night
just roam
your poem;
slam it;
say sh#@.
I think
they stink
with words
like turds.
Advice:
Be nice.
Smell clean,
not mean!
Written March 20, 2017 for Jan Allison's Fabulous Fun Footles Contest
Categories:
curs, anti bullying,
Form:
Footle
This Year, Underneath the Tree
By Rick Rucker
This year, underneath the tree,
Presents all around,
But, the one that can’t be found,
The one, that means the most to me,
Your Love, which you give to me, so True,
And I return, in kind,
You are always in my mind,
What else could I do?
My Love, given to you for all my Life,
Seems a very inexpensive Gift,
But, I hope it will, your Spirits, lift,
That is why I have asked you to be my Wife!
Love cannot be bought for pay,
Money does not make it yours,
Those, that try that, are curs,
It comes only layaway!
Installments made on Time,
Like a daily morning Kiss,
It is little things like this,
That make it so Sublime,
After half a hundred years,
If the payments, We have made,
When, to Our Rest, We are laid,
There should be no tears,
You and I will have loved, hard and long,
Together we will be,
On those clouds that appear a Sea,
Having loved each other Strong,
My Life, I give to you, my Love,
Without reservation, or fear,
Always want you to be near,
Until we live in Heaven, Above!
Categories:
curs, love,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Eyes like fantastic moons that shiver in some stagnant lake
folded like a white rose-leaf
hair was golden as tints of sunrise
tongue is like a scarlet snake.
It took on deep roar as of a cloven world
running to and fro like frightened sheep
face as imperturbable as fate.
It began to roar with that sibilant sound which resembles the hiss of a serpent
and turned on me like a thunder-cloud.
Frightened like a child in the dark
anxiety hung like a dark impenetrable cloud.
My face collapsed as if it were a pricked balloon
And my hair was as harsh as tropical grass and gray as ashes.
My impulse came and went like fireflies in the dusk.
Life stretched before me alluring and various as the open road
like serpents struggling in a vulture's grasp
my body broken as a turning wheel.
My breath travel to Heaven like vapor goes
And my head was like a great bronze bell with one thought for the clapper.
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer
my mind swayed idly like a water-lily in a lake.
My spirit seemed to beat the void, like the bird from out the ark
My thoughts came yapping and growling round me like a pack of curs
fled like a spirit from the room.
I vanished like the shapes that float upon a summers dream.
Categories:
curs, anger, anxiety, blessing, character,
Form:
ABC
Last year we went shopping on Halloween
To find a new car for my lovely queen
Sadly when we arrived onto the lot
A ghastly salesman appeared on the spot
He thrust his hand in too close to my face
I shouted out, “Run before he gives chase.”
In the showroom we felt safe and secure
Until I was grabbed by the manager
Her face was pale and her eyes were all red
My wife thought she was of the walking dead
Her nails dug in my skin with a chilling grip
Yet, as she mumbled we gave her the slip
We ran over to a nice shiny car
But were waylaid by a man with a scar
He groaned and gave us a sales zombie stare
So I quickly uttered the good Lord’s Prayer
I pushed my wife in the car; then it locked
Plus I read the window and got sticker shock
I banged on the glass, “Hey honey let me in.
There are more salesmen approaching the din.”
She was helpless in there without a key
I had to act fast; it was up to me.
I yelled, “We’ll take it,” to one of the curs
Then was hauled in to the loan officer
They wrenched every fact from my weary life
I had to placate to rescue my wife
I then heard a hushed scream out on the floor
They must have gotten to her through the door
I signed the papers, though at a high price
Then dashed between two guys as cold as ice.
I shoved salesmen aside and joined my hon
But slammed the door on a big warty thumb
The sales zombie shrieked and quickly pursued
Though with his hand wedged, he was tough to elude
We then sent that sales zombie right on his a$$
Just before our car smashed through the plate glass
When my wife asked how much was on the loan
I went into shock and drove lifelessly home.
For Halloween Poem contest David Fisher on 10/30
Categories:
curs, car, halloween,
Form:
Couplet
The life without you
is like a tree without flowers,
the moon without the stars,
a kiss without lips,
long wandering love,
the weary heart may faint for rest,
and a body without soul...
The life without you
is like a drifting foam of a restless sea
when the waves show their teeth
in the flying breeze,
and wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.
The life without you
is like village curs that bark when their fellows do,
a shadow of a great hill,
that reaches far out over the plain,
and the setting of a tropical sun.
The life without you
is like a sea-worm,
that perforates the shell of the mussel,
which straightway closes the wound with a pearl,
and rainbow, thou didst fade.
The life without you
Is like a blossom blown before a breeze,
a white moon drifts before a shimmering sky,
and my memories burn like a living coal in my soul.
By Seth Yuhi Musinga
Categories:
curs, baby, beautiful, beauty, girl,
Form:
Free verse