Best Detestable Poems


Premium Member Grip To Hope

A desire of truth only his pleasant warmth 
can provide comfort. As I age tears and disquiet 
are my reward. I'm saddened by reality. 

I, an old brittle woman has lost sketched 
from memory, crystal sparks adoring our life 
all replaced with winter's sleep and loneliness. 
For I am weak, searching, reaching for what is, 
really is. Drowning, struggling through 
the chilly winds with aching darkness. 

Day after dark day, my home, a sealed coffin; 
in a bitter resentment detestable world. 
Crazed, I gaze out at verge of night 
at the gnarled sky and beyond 
and grip to hope unwilling to let go.

1/13/2020

Aching
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: detestable, bereavement, love,
Form: Free verse

A Woman In the Rain

Rain falls on the lonely water’s edge,
is it a tear of a forgotten woman?
Sojourned on the surface of the water forming a bubble 
for a moment and sinking into a forgotten time to remain 
an oblivion because the bubble is incapable of becoming 
a swift current. It is moving alone.

Because the woman in rain wanted to shake off
lots of deep-rooted detestable memories and rancor
she rushed to the shore and flew in the air as a mist
after smashing into a break-water. She couldn’t get rid of 
her life-long ill-will she carried because she held onto false reality
that caused her to stray farther away from the actuality.

For her heart’s rending cry and struggle echoes vainly,
the water’s edge’s monotonous rain is the forgotten woman’s ill-will.

The rain becomes harder and harder
for the weight of the dark cloud hangs over her head 
that is too heavy to hold, the woman kneels down by the shore 
her poor heart’s lost grudge hardened as a piece of wooden block 
and drifts along the water with the current that will never return.
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: detestable, rain, woman,
Form: Free verse

My Dark Prison

To hear the woodpecker
To see the sun set 
To smell the lavender as it blooms
To feel another’s touch
No more

To be locked in this pitch black prison
To never hear a child’s sweet laugh
For no sound comes through these atrocious walls
In this prison I sit

Locked away for sins I have never committed
The walls closing in on my every detestable moment
Left only to my thoughts
The memories, they haunt me

To feel the wind flowing through my hair
To hear the distant bells: a church
To see, just once more, a bright starry sky
My memories, they haunt me

I open my eyes, so heavy are they
I breathe in deeply, this putrid smell
No one have I seen, though the ages pass
Left to my thoughts, these unbearable memories
In this dark room I sit
As yet another tear hit’s the floor
The sound is swallowed by the silence
Once again it is no more
Categories: detestable, loss, sad, sound, sound,
Form:

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member We Must Give Account -Hebrews 4: 12,13

God has declared through His inspired word
all that He is and all He can do
this word is living powerful and so sharp
more than two-edged sword this is true

This God is all-powerful indeed
there's nothing outwith His control
for sovereign, He is over everything
yes even you and every living soul

All that you know in your grey matter
as well as all that's in your sinful heart
fully none of it is hidden from God
all are naked before Him every single part

This God is eternal always shall be
our righteousness is like filthy rags
in His eyes detestable and obnoxious
we're without hope nothing to brag

Jesus came to our rescue
to save us and make us fit
to stand in God's holy presence
knowing in Christ we needn't quit

For all will stand before Him
there we must give account
if not in Christ we've no hope
but in Him, we have a living fount

("For the word of God is living and powerful, and
sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account." )
Hebrews 4:12-13
Categories: detestable, bible, god, judgement, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme

Kwanzaa

We lost our “UMOJA”, the basic concept and core value of our being “We, therefore, I am”, at the time of our history that began some 300 years ago. We didn’t step on the soil of New World with a dream like many others, but hauled on the ground like a cargo as merchandise.  We were each treated individually as a unit but not tied as a family or group bonded together by the same dialect.  

Misery was the food we’d been feeding to fill our empty stomach, agony was the water we’d been drinking to quench our thirst, depth of our footmarks were the weights we’d been carrying, our lives were trial after trial of thorny path. No matter how hard we worked, our baskets were empty. No matter how much we labored, returns of our toils were unbearable lashes. No matter how humbly we begged and ardently prayed, God always turned His face away from us. 

But all those detestable days are gone as second millennium faded away. Shackles of curse are removed from our neck and wrists. Our burdens are removed from our back. The reward of our day’s of labor is reasonable wage. Why don’t we embrace one another with joy because only thing remain is our determination.  

As daybreak sun is rising from yonder horizon, our darkest day has passed; for daybreak light is brighter than ever and pleasant as spring breath, we have good reason to celebrate for a moment. Nevertheless, don’t prolong the time of festival because it may make you stray from reality and to dwell in farfetched world. 

As long as you don’t fold the wings but spread wide and keep flapping them, though sometimes encountering high wind, you can fly higher than the highest ridges of a mountain. If you keep swimming upstream, though you may confront falls and rapids, you’ll come to your old home where your parents risked their lives to spawn and enable you to hatch from an egg one day, and rejoice overflowing water in the ocean to gladden your life. If you dart with a swift gallop not abandoning tomorrow’s dream, no matter how immeasurably vast is the wilderness, you’ll reach the horizon before sun sinks into the other side of the world. 

It’s the time to restore our “UMOJA” a laudable custom once we lost during our darkest days, recover “UMOJA” our ancestral heritage the good moral standard to sustain “I as us.”
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: detestable, black african american, hope,
Form: Verse

Seven Year Anniversary

I thought for a long time

to try and do something right

(in your eyes)

I've taken the blows

and the comparatives 

of every beauty you know



You love me, you loathe me,

I'm evil and detestable

You take me to my depth,

then, deny I've ever been

(there in the shadows of destruction)

(where one must sometimes fight to see the light)



I've been under bondage, n'er a day passes

that I do not try

Yet you splattered the truth and it helped me



for all the time living and giving,

 never drawing a breath for today;

 reflections of the past



Today my God Given name is special



For maybe I am not what I seem

Beneath this shell, redemptions plea



Seven years and months I've thought of how I could say

what it is that I need to say



Once the weight of humanity sat upon me, 

every part of me cared and in my depth, 

darkness and despair shadowed me, moving about

It doesn't matter the cost,

the dead are not living, but it's the lost

Lost was I, so cold to the Lord and I told you so

You were nice to me and cared

I loved you



Far be it to me now to brush back the tears streaming

at all cost, freedom is what I want

free to believe that I can be redeemed



Somewhere in days ago

was the writer that was the big joke

the one whose feelings meant the least

This monster

something evil

Your woe

A Wo-Man



Trust me not, for I do not love you anymore

Lest I shall die a horrible death

Seven years and months to say what I needed to say



You gave me brushed pink and yellow pastels of love

and brushing another tear back,

where the darkness's of all your lusts and loathing resides



Do not trust me, for I do not, could not love you any longer



Stars at night tell me I am right

they synchronize their twinkling with fallen hopes gone by

still it is beautiful

a light none the less



Where struggling through our nightmares we found dreams, awakening this 
dawn



Do not trust me, I am deceit, I am your fear, I am the worst for you truthfully



I am your woe, man

Your woe

Now go



For John Rhinem aka Johnny

link, John Rhine M John Rhinemiller Rachel st cross, tristen temple 
poetrysoup.com Jeremy Street  Christopher Marcum whoopi goldburg
Categories: detestable, anniversary,
Form: Free verse


White Space On Paper

Hoping everyday there will be a vicissitude in your thinking.
Irritation and repose.
Waiting.
For a text, a call, reticence.
White space on paper.
Empty.
I drank your wine.
I reveled in your game.
Laid nude and bent over your couch while you created rudiment on the floor beside my foot.
Vessel.
Held my breath, eyes shut while you finished yourself.
Watched you cook steak on the grill.
Men get hungry or sleep, you were hungry and I have told you;
I don’t eat red meat.
You tell me to retire myself from cooking because our duties are equalized though our genders are not.
I ate the steak.
Copious house, sizeable paycheck, exiguous man.
Microbic consort.
Missed appointments.
“You should have reminded me….” you say
But I know anything important is worth remembering or writing down.
I am sullen.
In life I am compensated to remind men of various appointments. 
“Could you jot this down…….remind me on this date….”
Though it’s not my berth, my disposition to succor puts me in this bearing, and in my own dash, I don’t find gravity to prompt a man that we have a reservation once every few weeks outside his couch.
I won't ask again for what I demand in whole; time, allotment, an epoch.
Time spent unbent over leather couches in precarious manners, minds soused with wine.
I am letting you go.
I am detestable, inconsequential. 
You are pulchritudinous and astute.
White space on paper.
Someone is waiting to write me a poem.
Categories: detestable, aubade, break up, dark,
Form: Free verse

World Elder Abuse Awareness Day June 15

When we grow old, we’re in need of care:
Our friends grow sparse, with whom to share
Remembrance of our younger energetic days.
Life and living having changed in many ways,
Deepens our need, for courteous Elder Care!.

Even though some are infirm, and under duress,
Living is still enjoyed, when given love and tenderness.
Doubtless to some, Elders are an annoying liability,
Even to thinking they’re a drag upon the community.
Reliable dedicated help, is the aim of Elder Care.

All too often, deserted by family and friends,
Becoming despondent, an Elder life oft ends,
Unbeknownst by neighbours living close by.
Seemingly abandoned, depressed they die,
Even though Elder Care is found close by.

Aid in a variety of forms, though offered
Will often be refused unless proffered
As an act of kindness, from one they know.
Respectful, sincere help is a trait few show,
Even towards an elderly relative in need.
Nothing is more detestable than greed!
Evidence shows that abuse does prevail
So often, it’s disguised by a duplicitous veil.
Smooth tongued platitudes may sound great:

Designed to deceive, they are a despicable trait
All too often used to cover Elder abuse!
Yet the vigilant Care Giver often spots such signs abstruse!

Rhymer June 16th, 2017
.
Categories: detestable, abuse, age,
Form: Acrostic

Braille

Adorned with momentus meaning ,
darkness can be a terrible and scary thing  -
For some- a time of nightmarish convening
Yet to others - divinely rich beauty abound

To me it is a story to read  one of
my favorite things - lying on the ground  
All the stars are braille  as I reach out to read touching and caressing
One falls and other takes its place 
the story is rewritten again and again and never dull

Some people on earth prophesied the stories to stones , 
some five thousand years ago ..ancient stories regarding our times  
Full of ugly, detestable crimes, so I do as I may, 
watching the night sky reading stories of dragons ,
creatures half man  and many other wonderful things  
My perfect world of armored braille-
I'll just keep on reading of ancient battles, songs of lovers
Adventures of the gods
And four leaf clovers.

Amy Green
April 2014 revised May 18, 2014
© Amy Green  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: detestable, adventure, angel, beauty,
Form: Free verse

The Persistent Poem - A

Yesterday, my heart felt a little tapping
Coming from the inside, a friendly rapping
It grew strong then weak, refreshed then weary
Sometimes ordinary, sometimes eerie
So I opened the door and looked inside
Looked past the smiles I've held and the tears I've cried
Right above where passions subside 
I found a poem, cowering, yet untried
I tenderly tried to draw it out
Coax turned to order turned to shout
It simply sat there, unwilling to confide
Right above where passions subside
"Fine!" I yelled to it "Stay there"
I spared it one last snarl and a glare
And marched out with quite some flare
Marched out of the poem's lair
Locked my heart up behind me
Completely unable to foresee
The continued tapping of that rhyme
A rap at every clock and chime
So I decided to ignore it, unable to perceive
Exactly how unwilling it was to leave

Today, I woke up with a pain in my chest
Felt it as I brushed my teeth, as I got dressed
To be honest, I was quite impressed
This poem didn't seem to ever rest
But I wanted to discharge this vexatious guest
To be free of this detestable pest
It wouldn't leave upon request
It wouldn't move despite my protest
Even when I threw at it all the mental force I possessed
So to myself I confessed
It was causing me serious unrest
Leaving my brain distressed
My spirit depressed
Eventually, my failure expressed
I asked my heart a plan to suggest
After all, it was where the visitor resided
I asked and waited to be guided
For the heart to be decided
For the information to be provided
Realization hit my heart in the head
It called me to it, tugged at me with a thread
I felt it and to my heart I sped
I splayed before it and pled
"Save me – what do I do - help me"
To rid me of my companion it did guarantee
Pulled me close and whispered quietly
Told me the plan privately
I reacted violently
Refused mightily
But agreed finally


So I sit here now like some defender
Ready at last to face the offender
The battle commences, I let my heart grow tender
The verse rears up, here comes my contender
I marvel at its splendor
And Finally... I surrender
Categories: detestable, imagination, on writing and
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Modern Morality

This age we live in
with no moral absolute
standards no longer exist
now we bear its fruit

Fewer couples no longer marry
live in is the thing
not thinking of the consequences
such living will bring

So often there's no commitment
after a few months, they split up
feeling the heartbreak that comes
affected by its bitter cup

Do they not know a better way?
a way of purity and joy
set up by God himself
for His word is no toy

God has promised a day
when all he'll call to account
to answer every thought and act
This is surely no doubt

The sexual revolution has brought disaster
torn lives and broken hearts
come to the creator that created sex
His blueprint fits all the missing parts


( ' After this I saw another angel coming down from heaven, having great authority, and the earth was made bright with his glory. And he called out with a mighty voice,
“Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!
She has become a dwelling place for demons,
a haunt for every unclean spirit,
a haunt for every unclean bird,
a haunt for every unclean and detestable beast.
For all nations have drunk
the wine of the passion of her sexual immorality,
and the kings of the earth have committed immorality with her,
and the merchants of the earth have grown rich from the power of her luxurious living.”
Then I heard another voice from heaven saying,
“Come out of her, my people,
lest you take part in her sins,
lest you share in her plagues;
for her sins are heaped high as heaven,
and God has remembered her iniquities.)
(Revelation 18:1-5 ESV)
Categories: detestable, age, bible, confusion, corruption,
Form: Rhyme

Gross Monstrosity

Gross insect!
O Monstrosity!
Of putrid death beguiling me.
Be gone! O blemished devil’s bat!
You vex me perched upon my lap.
Such ugly gait and sticky bait,
Of bile produced from concentrate;
Detestable untouchable
Beyond my intellectual conception
That your existence has some meaningful intention.
   
     With filthy wings you take to sky,
         And leave your stain upon my thigh;
	   Twas it winged gods on high,
	     That made something so awful fly?

O but menace, do your worst!
Quite cunning in your fur so coarse.
I hate you, Ai!
My pecan pie!
Ill eyes behold your newest sty;
Infection of a dear confection,
Destroyer of my grand perfection!
O how I loathe proximity
To this grotesque
Monstrosity!
Categories: detestable, animals, introspection, life, nature
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member What Made Her Unworthy

what made her unworthy of love
was it because she couldn't live up to your ideal
that she lost her appeal?

You lived for the surreal
now too numb to feel

Tell me, what was the deal?

what made her fall from grace
was it sun spots on her face
her flannel instead of lace
her slower than youthful pace?

Was that why she lost
her pedestaled place?

Do you look at her and see

something other than beauty?

Is she flabby instead of firm

militant instead of meek

the lurid side of lovely

tell me!
what could it be?

when did she go
from pleasure treasure
to discarded at leisure

What was the measure
of your detestable displeasure?

let's me be clear:

"love is in the eye of the beholder"

Here's a tap on your shoulder
instead of a fist in your face
I won't add to the disgrace
yet your problem prevails
it's in the details:

you're beholder beholden
to your own foolish fantasy
of what your woman should be
what you can't see
is just what makes others all agree:

SHE'S A Bountiful BEAUTY!

Her body and soul
every part of the whole
exquisitely enhanced
by the years and by chance

she deserves desire's delirious dotage
not apathetic apathy
Can't you see?

maybe....
maybe you are the one
not deserving to decree
her worth, her esteem

she's gone now
go dream
scream
try to serve up a scheme
to love her up to extreme

She won't fall again!
that is true!

You see, dear
The problem, the problem
is
YOU!

Eileen Manassian
Categories: detestable, age, beauty, woman,
Form: Dramatic Monologue

The Rose That Grew From a Concrete

The Rose That Grew From A Concrete

The Rose That Grew From The Crack In A Concrete 
Black Rose That Grew From The Fertile Roots Beneath 
Out The Crack Of The Earth
 Blossoming Into A Fashionable Valuable Flower Of Worth
 It's Not Impossible To See It's Possible To See The Rose Passion Of Thirst
 Roots Planted To Be Phenomenal An For Search
 Ones Before Me Laughed At The Illogical Joke
 But Knew The Astronomical Growth Would Be Abominable An Uncommon With His Philosophical Approach See I Breed Off Diabolical Emote
 The Detestable Weeds I Choked
 It's Inevitable To See What Heretically Was Wrote
 I Blossom And Bloom Even In The Darkness Or Gloom
 Wanna Rob Me With Doom
 Ima Tsuanmi Typhoon Purest To Water You Can
 Tell By My Posture These Thoughts I Can Not Harbor
 Smile On My Face But Inside My Eyes Is Trauma
  Don't See The Darkness In My Ocular
 I'm Simba Trying To Be Like My Father
 King Mufusa
 Rose From The Concrete But I'm Just A Little Darker
Categories: detestable, angel, beautiful, cry, dark,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Gingerly - Not Ginger

GINGERLY?  -  NOT GINGER!

Ginger used an array of colourful drugs,
And owed money to many cruel thugs,

She was a beautiful fresh fifeteen year old,
When her sad story began to unfold!

Ginger was at a party and got very drunk
Police raided it ,arrested the responsible punk!

By twenty she had become hooked 
And arrested several times and booked!

During her short life, she had to often steal,
If she wanted to have the occasional meal!

She lived under a bridge at the bottom of town,
Lay on cardboard, covered by a ragged gown.

Filthy gangsters, relentless in their chase, 
Kicked, beat, abused her and cut her face,

No matter her age all they wanted was money,
You got no money, then bang, bang honey!

Told you girl, no money, you owe, you die
You have made us angry now, don’t dare to cry!

Ginger had spirit, was desperate and bold, 
The drug dealers were tired, sluggish and old!

She had had enough, made a quick dart and bolt 
Knocked one out, but second one gave her a clout!

Ginger quite dazed and bewildered, ran into the street, 
Where she got lost, as she mingled with many feet!

She made herself a promise that never again,
Would she touch drugs, they brought much pain.  

A kind young man noticed and helped her escape,
Threw round her naked, fragile body a drape.

At her twenty first party, the following year, 
She got engaged to this young man, so dear 

She never again looked or took any drugs,
Said farewell to her sad life, and detestable thugs!
Categories: detestable, drug, evil, girl,
Form: Couplet
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