Best Debased Poems
Ashamed to avow my sins,
A burden mine alone to bear,
Broken beyond repair,
Baptized in gold to fill the cracks,
Restless nights, Velour gowns turning to sacks
No amount of gold brings relief,
Debased by lies and deceit,
Beg for forgiveness,
And you shall be forgiven,
He, who knows all, saw underneath my veneer,
A pain, a woe played for deaf ears,
I beseech my lord to forgive my misdeeds abhorred,
Let my midnight scribble turn into beautiful word.
Categories:
debased, angst, anxiety, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
(In 1807, Beethoven wrote a piano/violin
piece with this title. Count Leo Tolstoy
followed in 1890, with a short novel of the
same name, in which he argued that
matrimony can never work.)
What is a marriage? A fusion, or a tether?
Two very different creatures, yoked together?
I was a piano, you a violin:
I, solid, calming, you, discordant, thin,
and laced with bitterness. I was your base,
and you provided brio, flourish, grace.
A lacewing trapped inside a window frame,
yet driven by one blind, unchanging aim,
you struggled up until, played out, defeated,
you fluttered down again, debased, depleted.
A war's a love affair, and love's a war.
We're so inept - or what's a heaven for?
A nest of wasps, my grievances boiled over -
but could there ever be a vita nuova?
We never learned. I hammered pointlessly,
while you abraded. Why could we not see?
And so I played it stately, sad, no frills,
while you kept up your repetitions, trills
and variations. Hovering and wary,
you shunned my structures. Ever more contrary,
you coiled and squirmed in spasms both continuous,
spontaneous, free-wheeling, lithe and sinuous.
It seemed to me the harmony had gone:
we sang on, yes, but each a separate song.
Two butterflies together, intertwined,
we tangled on the same, but different, line.
Categories:
debased, marriage, relationship,
Form:
Couplet
They were a carpenter's hands, calloused, yet so soothing,
Freely offered to those whose burdens needed smoothing.
He forsook the carpentry trade, His Father's will to keep,
And clasped a shepherd's crook to tend His precious sheep.
His hands blessed the children when others turned them aside.
His hands calmed the stormy seas causing them to subside.
His hands touched Peter's mother-in-law, her fever disappeared.
At Cana His hands blessed the water, miraculously wine appeared!
His gentle hands healed the lame and they were made to walk.
His tender hands caused the deaf to hear and the mute to talk.
His folded hands blessed some fish and several loaves of bread,
To multiply this simple fare for the thousands to be fed!
His hands reached down to rescue Peter from the roiling sea.
Healing hands caressed their eyes. Behold! The blind could see!
His hands touched outcast lepers, their diseases He erased.
His hands upset thieves' tables when His temple was debased.
Alas, His loving, compassionate hands were nailed to a tree.
There He suffered and died for wayward sinners such as we.
He yet offers steadfast hands to guide us o'er perilous strands.
His invitation is everlasting - we need only to grasp His hands.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
debased, faith
Form:
Rhyme
Remember our High School classes?
Watched you fidget with your glasses.
Slender fingers twirled chestnut hair,
enough to make me stop and stare.
I caught that twinkle in your eye,
envisaged stroking supple thigh.
Then you flashed me your trademark smile,
made perseverance all worthwhile.
Recall when snuck into your house,
not wake your folks, a quiet mouse.
Left your spare key under a rock,
so in I'd come at twelve o'clock.
I'd savour watching you asleep,
green eyes squeezed shut whilst counting sheep.
Snuggled under cotton bedspread,
know you like left side of the bed.
It's been so long, the time is right,
our passion soars like doves in flight.
I just know we're on the same page,
let's move things on to the next stage.
From the rooftops I'll proudly shout,
for in the end, true love will out.
Hearts beat as one, we're meant to be,
what do you say, please marry me?
~ ~ ~
"What the hell, creep?! I scarce know you!
Twisted confessions make me spew!
Tainted by debased disorder,
can you spell 'restraining order'...?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
8 syllables on every line - checked with howmanysyllables.
12 November 2017
I used a more simplistic approach than my usual style as I was trying to put myself into the mind of a stalker - what's going through his head and how would he try articulating that to the target of his obsession? Hope it worked. And now I need a shower... urgh!
For the "Stalker" contest, sponsored by Silent One.
(2nd Place)
Categories:
debased, crazy, crush, dark, girl,
Form:
Rhyme
predator from the deep
destroyer of amity
his fin glides toward you
voracious enemy
peace in soupdom imperiled
by beast with many names
his temperament assails
engaging in mind games
from friend to friend he turns
spewing hateful lies
his style so lackluster
to divide and conquer, he tries
victims selected randomly
he finds some won’t strike back
but others band together
planning a counter-attack
joining hands for defense
souper strength shines strong
he flees with jaws debased
to rue his every wrong
*December 29, 2018.
Categories:
debased, animal, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
Your Majesty, your meal is served.
May it fit your royal taste.
Only the best for you reserved,
Sweet milk with wine is laced.
Please make your judgment not in haste,
Dear Sir I plead with you.
This dish before you humbly placed,
I offer sav'ry stew.
.
Only the best you have deserved.
May it be not a waste.
You are so slim and nicely curved
It adds not to your waist.
Your fish well cooked with a nice baste
Fine flavors coming through.
In finest china it’s encased.
I offer sav'ry stew.
I’ve sought the best with zeal unswerved.
To markets I have raced.
Your every fancy I’ve observed
Ensuring fare be chaste.
For rarest dainties I have chased.
My liege deserves his due.
Delightful delicates I’ve traced.
I offer sav'ry stew.
For you my feline prince I’ve faced
More worries than you knew
That your fine taste be not debased.
I offer sav'ry stew.
For Ballade contest
Categories:
debased, devotion
Form:
Ballade
T This mournful yet glorious story,
H Hath ever set our eyes on Glory!
E Entombed in an unsullied grave,
O On the Cross for us His life He gave!
L Lamb of God destined to sit on His Father's throne,
D Death He overcame for our transgressions to atone!
R Resurrected on the third day to live forever,
U Undefiled He promised to leave us never!
G Guards placed upon His brow a rustic crown of thorn;
G Gamblers cast lots for the garments He had worn.
E Early that glorious Easter Morn the tomb was bared!
D "Don't be alarmed!" an Angel of the Lord declared!
C "Christ is risen! He is risen! Spread the word!
R Rallying o'er the grave foretold by the prophets has occurred!"
O Overcome with joy His Disciples recalled Jesus' promise:
S Saying, "I'll die and rise again!" (Convinced was even Doubting Thomas!)
S So often debased by man, He rose to become The King of Kings!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Honorable Mention in An Easter Picture Contest
Categories:
debased, faitheaster, easter,
Form:
Acrostic
as God is our witness…
you told me you loved her
adored her
could see no beauty like her
worshiped her
would never hurt her
she was your queen
the greatest creation seen
then you changed
became deranged
cursed her
debased her
embarrassed her
raped her
said you made love to her
deranged
like a mad dog
with the mange
you went and hit her
forgot to remember
what I said
‘bout gon’n up side yo head
that’s why you’re nearly dead
and I’ll gladly stand accused
of defending the abused
touch my baby a’gin
and ’om gonna commit a cardinal sin
take my case to the bench
plead the 5th and old testament
so you better look out boy
wallowing in your feigning joy
you better open your eyes and see
there’re a lot out here just like me
abuse our baby one more time
and it’ll surely be your last crime:
as God is our witness
you need to start praying for forgiveness.
Categories:
debased, abuse, anger, child, dad,
Form:
Free verse
What goes into
caucus and committee
and what comes out
of caucus and committee
what dialogue travels
the halls of Congress
and what dialogue is absent
from those consecrated halls
what is debated on
the floor stays on the floor
and what rises to the ceiling
stays on the ceiling
a high wire act in a circus of clowns and puppets
trip over each other to raise money for themselves
what elevates the heavy
gavel of procedure
and what brings that mighty
wooden gavel down
who is written out of trade
partnership agreements
and who is written into trade
partnership agreements
what is left out of
national security legislation
and what is written
into security legislation
it has the shape and style and sound and appearance
of democracy but some fingers and toes are missing
cloaked in rhetoric
and petulant rant representatives
buzz from one special interest
flower to the other
pushing debased agendas
and empty proposals with impunity
unaware that every single meeting
and motion and voice
is attached to the life of
a determined and diligent citizen
dependent upon their
conscientiousness and empathy
clichés and bromides shift fast between nattering teeth
ranks close in and capacity for clear hearing thins out
tabloids and blogs are
the prime sources of knowledge
and gravitas is a slow steamboat
on the Mississippi
commentators and pundits
flap thick wicked tongues
giving lip service to Constitutional
principles and purpose
all thriving in a happy
broadband land where drones
drop bombs far away as
we sleep in peace and comfort
turn up the Wi-Fi
have another pitcher of brew
no need to ponder the wretched
who make it possible
for all of us
to live
Categories:
debased, humanity, political,
Form:
Verse
When I read Othello with my child’s eyes, I saw a master’s artistry at work;
Foul, devil plots, a hopeless love, a monster created but refused.
Victims and sinners alike debased, I saw worlds crushed and a giant fall.
Convinced of character and poetic muse, I was led through vague words to light passages.
When I read Othello with my adult eyes, I saw an artist bargaining with his theme;
His faceless blocks moved to a sympathy Mass,
Searching for learning I found divested acts, all meaning and diversity consumed;
My awareness full, so was I then led back and the subject failed.
As I reflect the reading of Othello: two journeys made, one path to follow;
A world was opened through my child’s eyes, for adult eyes to swallow.
Categories:
debased, childhood, feelings, journey, life,
Form:
Free verse
Ah, the con a tried and true dastardly, debased,
debacle to test the metal of man.
A contextual contrib to the categorization
for rat-ICK-al political fans.
Simply put, the contest is not for the faint of heart.
Testing the spine of the spineless
demi-gods of media-o-craSS-y against each other
often produces hilarious outcomes, balloons full of
hot air which rise, sinkers like submarines
A-bombs which ann-I-oH-late beating the literal
pants of of pre-despotic predators!
Ah, the con a tried and true dastardly, debased,
debacle to test the metal of man.
A confab of convicts crashing the party of humanity
for their own con-test, loot-seekers all.
Blue ribbon, hollow trophy-seeking, baby kissers.
Even the best of these deep thinkers seldom
produce products which do more
than a-GRAND-Ize themselves.
Hitler con-tested the right to breath of the non
Aryan races...now that's surely contestable?
Kings and demagogue contest the human rights
of man daily, throwing female babies out with the trash.
So in an effort to auto adjust this neolith-ICK behavior
I vote we go sans test!
*There are no spelling errors here
what you see is poetic license.
Categories:
debased, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.
When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rest below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen.
Not what he was, but what he should have been.
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master’s own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonour’d falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth:
While man, vain insect! Hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.
Oh man! Thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smile hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye ! who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on - it honours none you wish to mourn:
To mark a friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one - and here he lies.
This monument is still a conspicuous ornament in the garden of Newstead. The following is the inscription by which the verses are preceded: -
Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains of one
Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices,
This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
If inscribed over human ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
BOATSWAIN, A Dog,
Who was born at Newfoundland, May 1803
And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov, 1809
Taken from a book entitled POEMS by LORD BYRON
Categories:
debased, animal,
Form:
Epic
Deceit devastated me!!!
…debilitating my dignity, darkening my disposition
…directing me to despair…
Then dread defrauded me --- doomed were my dazzling dreams!!!
…dictating my disaster-denial, discouraging me
…dwarfing my duties
Oh, dearth-disgrace debased me!!!
…degrading me to downfall’s detriment
…deterring my determination with doubting
…damning me as defenseless!
Despite the deceiver’s devices,
Dearest Defender* delivered me!
Day by day, my dryness’ drought He drove out.
Difficult days He turned to delight
Domination of depression He did defy!
Dwelling within His dealings I now do...
Departing from Him destines me to destruction.
Decrees He demands I dare to declare
Decided am I to dedicate my all to Him
Devoted to my Lord Who loves me indeed!
*Psalm 94:22 But the LORD is my defence; and my God is the rock of my refuge.
May 4, 2018
1st place, "Mid June 2018 Standard..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 6/17/2018.
Categories:
debased, christian, courage, dedication, devotion,
Form:
Alliteration
Tears of my eyes By Saiful Haq
Barging in with your stolid lies,
Firing gun amidst the corporate noise,
Cadging peace with my shuddering eyes,
Thee looked for the tears of my eyes.
Pariah ; you were once before,
Thee was the subject of deplore,
Abhoring humanity caring none who dies,
Thee looked for the tears of my eyes.
Once thee were an erudite scholar,
Debased by the leash on thy collar,
Sharing the same fate are the terrorist guys,
Thee looked for the tears of my eyes.
Thy plan turned out to be discursive,
As the Security authorities chided the offensive,
Witnessing the world of love,hate and lies,
None can see the tear of my eyes.
© Saif Ul Haq 2014
Categories:
debased, war,
Form:
Ballad
Despised, Reviled, Rejected.
Object of cruel mockery.
Before I was conceived, I heard of you,
Dumps for homeless migrants,
Debased and inferior.
Was beauty ever part of you?
This throng, that daily treads your well worn streets,
Whither? your brackish waters,
Home to unseen enemies, children splash uncaring,
Your market is a meeting place, young and old,
Rich and poor, your wares to behold
Ajegunle, the harsh teacher, Survival skills your forte,
Sharpening and shaping lives by your creeds
Ajegunle,
The enemy of state love, a point to prove,
Creativity crams herself into your nooks and crannies,
The envy of rich Ikoyi.
Ajegunle,
You must visit with vigilance, day or night,
Hunters abound, roving eyes,
Seeking purse to prey upon.
Their kills dissected in the crevices of Ajegunle
Where the oppressed oppress another
Atavism is a regular guest at Ajegunle
Where order is almost a crime,
Disorder the norm,
Ajegunle,
Kingdom of numerous kings, a reflection of ourselves
Poverty amidst riches, want amidst plenty,
Ajegunle,
Despised
Reviled
Rejected
Ajegunle is a Popular slum in Lagos Nigeria.
Categories:
debased, africa, city, community, confusion,
Form:
Burlesque