Best Disdainful Poems
High upon the highest heights
I see the most tremulous sight
A small girl, fair and tranquil
Smiling strangely, sitting still
Beneath a sobbing willow tree
She recites a verse upon her knee
She sings a rhythmic hymn
Not of death, nothing grim
But prays that life will return
Even for those who are doomed to burn
The girl is a woman now
Beneath the tree and upon the cloud
She whispers, “I am watching you”
Why then are you so blue?
A single tear of sadness and joy
Rejuvenate the quirky earthly boy
Who sits down beneath the blooming tree
Listening to her silent voice attentively
She reminds him she was once young too
That she also was a misty shade of blue
But when the boy grows into man
He has come to ignore the fair woman
Who watches him still from above
Burning and swelling with disdainful love
The ways of the world have sweltered his heart
And time has torn his soul apart
Thus he has lost all innocence and light
Battling his sinful lust—an endless plight!
I watch as he feeds on others’ pains and fears
Reducing the vigilant woman to tears
The prayer of the innocent has been ignored
Life has died and hellfire stored
Into the hearts of the impotent
In blue, fires of haze their heart is sent
Toiling in misery and lament
Savaged and severed by our regret
The heavenly woman grows old and frail
And the man still treads the sinful trail
As the rotting tree withers into dust
Can I revive it? –I must!
Low as low can possibly be
I watch myself condescendingly
A tombstone, gray and hell-bent
Frowning knowingly in bewilderment
Above the dust that once was a tree
She cries out a verse anxiously
Faintly she whispers the undying hymn
Not of happiness, nothing of whim
And prays that life will come to end
For those that break instead of bend
Consumer
02/09/2018
Life around me
Lose control
Price of energy
Eats you whole
Consume
Attain
Distract
Disdain
Life betray you
Purpose lost
Love thy neighbour
Whatever the cost
Consume the falicy
Attain more... MORE
Distract from the dying
Disdainful dead next door
They look through me never really see me
Without a shred of decency choosing to avoid me
Their disdainful stare turning to a glare
Offer their backs to me without a care
It would never occur to them to smile
Would never go that extra mile
Can their heart really be that stone cold
To be so stingy as to a smile withhold
Hoping but for a cordial hello
Not like asking for a hearty laugh bellow
Why are some so miserably irate
Are they really so bursting with hate
Don’t they see they write their own fate
With cloudy gloom and moody skies
How unfortunate not to use their eyes
And realize how blessed they truly are
Each new day, should thank their lucky star
I wonder what they can possibly gain
To carry and spread such misery and pain
Why do they fear to show compassion
Since when is a frown acceptable fashion
They sport a burden they need not share
Can they not reach inside and find a way to care
AP: 1st place 2020
Submitted for contest JUDGMENTAL PEOPLE AND HATERS sponsored by BRENDA CHIRI - November 8, 2017 - RANKED 4TH
You are standing there
Solid
Resolute
Unbending
Unmoved
By my womanly charm
Your eyes look straight ahead
Not taking in my curves
Not noticing the look in my eyes
The sun dancing in my raven hair
The shimmer of my cherry lips
Your hands are in your pockets
Safe
Guarded
Captive
Under your command
Not able to give away
The little tremor I would see
Should they be exposed
I've seen it happen before
When I'm close...
Your whole demeanor
Distant
Disdainful
Displeased
And I smile a slow smile
Knowing
What lies beneath
For I have seen the unguarded looks
Of burning passion
You send my way
When you think I’m not looking
As I walk towards you
I wonder
What horrible experience
Made you this way
Cautious
Guarded
Weak
I walk past you
Almost touching
Making sure I’m close enough
For you to smell the perfume
That has become my signature scent
An extravaganza of
Giddy floral scents
Orange blossom
Jasmine
And honey
ME
The scent of ME
I let it waft over you
And I turn around and watch
As you close your eyes
And breathe it in….deep
Unaware that I am watching you
Unaware that I see your stiff body relax
And lean into the scent
Captivated by your desire
You are trying
So hard
To close yourself up to me
I’m trying
So hard
To make you give in to me
Silently, I walk back up to you
I stand beside you
Quietly, gently
I place my hand on your bare arm
You flinch
As though touched by fire
I look up at you
And smile
An innocent little smile
An inviting smile
I see your eyes take me in
Focusing
Finally focusing on my eyes
Sending a silent message
A plea
To go gently
You are not made of steel
For a moment, I’m lost
And yet…I speak
Brazen
Bold
Beckoning
I know you want me….
That gives me strength
Sensing victory
Within my reach
I move up closer
On my tiptoes
My lips almost touching yours
Almost
And I whisper….
“Don’t be afraid….
I won't hurt you...
Give in…
Give in to me
Give in”…and the rest of my words are devoured
Along with my lips in your kiss
As you crush me up against you
Reserve falls to the flour
A crashing sound
That only I can hear
For it is enhanced by the sound
Of my frenetic heart beat
Pounding against my chest
Ecstasy
Urgency
Victory
VICTORY
“Give in
GIVE IN TO…..ME!”
Eileen Manassian Ghali
The Title of this Poem is the title of one of my favorite songs by the late great Michael Jackson…GIVE IN TO ME!
In the darkness of despair where shadows loom,
Evolves the diamond from the ashy gloom.
From fiery trials and pressured pain,
Emerges the diamond struggling - not in vain.
The cuts and chips make the light shine bright,
Revealing beauty hidden from sight.
The diamond in the ashes formed by the flame,
A witness of resilience, it does proclaim.
Each facet carved and every tear shed,
Polishes the diamond and the soul’s thread.
Through disdainful despair, hope still thrives
Like the diamond in the furnace, our spirit survives.
For in the deep dangerous dark and doomed night,
The diamond, the survivor – brilliantly beautiful, bold and bright.
Copyright © 2019 by Crystal David John
(I wrote this poem for my niece who went through such difficulty and yet shone through it all. She continues to face her challenges with God's grace and her own willpower.)
My friends say this magnificent rose
Gives off the most wonderful aroma of spring
I am catching a scent somewhat obscure
As yet no recognizable thing
For I'm losing the sense
Of smell in my nose
Perhaps what I'm smelling
Though peculiar and unselling
Is this lovely flower
This most fragrant rose
Most likely it's the pasture
Expelling natural gas
Which is nostalgic and familiar
With its hint of ammonia and pungent aroma
But, I fear, even this shall pass
There's the most angelic sound in the meadow nearby
That is what my lovely neighbor conveys
She jots down the melody with each bar and clef
For I cannot hear it
I am practically deaf
But I do hear the shrill voice
Of my neighbor's young lass
Which is nostalgic and familiar
Though disconcerting and frightful
And never delightful
I fear, even this shall pass
The most beautiful creature stops at my house
It arrives every day to feed
This is just what I've heard
To me it's all blurred
For a new pair of glasses I need
But I do see the glare
From a bonfire of grass
Which is nostalgic and familiar
Though odious and weedy
And noxiously seedy
I fear, even this shall pass
My neighbor is bringing a dinner she will baste
Which others around highly praise
The sensation for me is hardly a meal
I have lost the better part of my taste
But I savor the peppers
She always brings me in mass
Which are nostalgic and familiar
Though indigestible and spicy
And especially dicey
I fear, even this shall pass
I fondly remember my wife's gentle touch
But this sense too I now lack
If it weren't for the fall
I'd have no sensation at all
But, for these sharp piercing pains
Down my back - Alas! Alas!
While nostalgic and familiar
And though crippling and painful
It is nothing disdainful
And I fear, even this shall pass
Now when I'm gone all will be quite sublime
I will have transcended to the sixth sense
I will be free as a bird
Free from the limits of time
Reunited with the Lord of Providence
Slow motion memories.
Street lit like a movie set,
outside the dance hall.
Muffler-less cars,
full throttle, then eerily quiet.
Self willed machines idling along the street,
flooding the night; flashing eyeballs,
headlining teenage girls.
A sashaying crush; glancing, giggling,
disdainful in stinging beehives,
plastic jackets, high gloss paint and oily pants.
Cruising crass flash
false virility in high gloss paint.
James Dean on Sunset Strip.
Hands on the stick shift; giving themselves the gears.
skinny boys glancing in the mirror, where dice and kewpie dolls hang,
squinting at astigmatisms of Steve McQueen on hunk steroids.
Nervous to fingered combs slink through their hair,
checking out the rear end drive,
outside the dance hall on a Friday night.
A curly haired boy,
red faced brother of my best friend, never owned a car,
pushes forward in the street,
to talk with sister and friends.
Asked a girl for a kiss.
Too easily dismissed.
In the science lab; class dismissed.
Counters gleam grade A sterility.
Chemicals stare coldly from spotless beakers.
Put his mouth over the gas jet.
A curly haired boy,
going nowhere on a Friday afternoon.
Disdainful moon,
Scrutinized my happiness
And unparalleled delight
Delight that she once felt
Towards her only light
Light that made her beautiful
And displayed her unrivaled might
Might that gradually fading
Because of her shattered pieces heart
Heart that caused her to be secluded,
Torn asunder, and apart
Apart that will no longer be together
And be like exquisite finest art
Art that appreciates beauty
Of the lost and isolated
Disdainful moon
Naked death
…the barred and sealed cattle wagons
disgorge
at the Konzentrazionslager
the faux pas relief
from urine mud faeces sweat and tears
unkempt armpits buttocks best wear
turned to damp rags
reduced to moaning cattle
nameless
even the heifer wan straggly limp
Alles! Raus!
…the last quick dab of face powder
the lipstick dried blood tan
the felt hat lying soggy stained
through bellowed haste
on the mudcaked barrack floor
the wampumpeag plucked by the helmeted claw
stabbing on sole-cold cutting cement platform
averting glances on sapped sagging busts
shoulders hunched buckled in
fingers reaching to scratch loins
nostrils quivering
whose the naughty stench
then the trooped Indian file
stray belongings dumped
in a wasteproduct pile
the once highheeled gait
slumping to a side
from the hips down to a jaggedknee limp
prodding the miasmal mist
the exposed varicose veins
the knotty pubis
the mons veneris
the intimate warts and moles
last year’s Ceasarian stitches
the rump twitched less
the lack lustre sentry gazes
the unmasked leer
the disdainful pursed lips
neither shame nor pudeur
and then the last gangway to nowhere
the Ave-Maria road to Himmelweg
a reprieve
From the privately pub. coll. (re-worked 2016): longhand notes ( a binding of poems), 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 1999/2016
Therewithal, profluent life ettles it's while.
Thitherward, from Death's bleak campanile
Grim antiphonals serenade.
A capriccio, the slashing swipe of the reaper's scythe
will serenade.
Stringent Death forthwith anoints the mithridate to
Life's cantankerous and rankling ado
Hither now come, anon recondite Azrael, neither protend
nor annex this throttled contretemps.
The antiphonal of the reaper's cavalier scythe
Shall now serenade.
Awhirl, like kerfs demarcated
Years, bollixed, muzzy and brattled
shall holus-bolus expire.
No retaliation to death's gloomy surcease
No ingenious riposte to the reaper's final cleave.
Bootless now to don the amulets,
squeeze the jujus,
Kiss the talismans,
clutch the periapts or
Attire in steely cataphract.
The serenading of the reaper's scythe,
it's efficacy shall blithely cleave.
Bedim mine eyes from life's assailing
Bedim mine eyes from life's poltroonery
Vocabulary: barghest-a goblin fabled to portend misfortune; monody-funeral song;
antiphonal-chant; protend-to protract in time/lengthen; riposte-n. in fencing, a quick
return/thrust; brattle-v.-to make rattling or clattering noises;
cavalier-supercillious/disdainful/haughty; muzzy-hazy; attaint-v. to condemn; rankle-to
give pain/nettle/gnaw; contretemps-untoward accident/hitch; throttle-v.to
choke/suffocate/strangle/stiffle; bollix-v.-to bungle or botch; holus-bolus-adv.-all at
once/altoghter; mithridate-antidote against poison; cataphract-suit of armor for the
whole body; poltroonery-n. cowardice; a capriccio-musical piece characterized by
improvisation; ettle-to intend/to prepare; campanile-free standing bell tower; kerf-a
groove or notch
Azrael-the angel that helps souls from living to enter the afterlife; recondite-not
easily understood/abstruce;
periapt-a charm worn to ward of evil; juju-object believed to contain magical powers;
contretemps-disruptive unforeseen event; protend-to hold out or stretch forth
Part Three
...swishing away with your sunshrivelled burgundy knotty arms with broad disdainful harvesting sweeps the cobras come out to water in the sweltering heat by the thatched fly-buzzed hole
your low under-the-breath warning tones a reminder of the will of your self-inflicted charge
you never ate until i gorged myself
like the dutiful wife given with a dowry
watching me all the time through the shield of the wisp of cloud of cheroot smoke in your sentinel corner against the far wall your eyes glinting fearing that i might take exception and even before my plate was half-empty you had already darted across the kitchen floor to bring me more fried brinjals mashed greens fried and sliced plantain the steaming rice lying bare by its metal cover hanging on the lip of the open pot-mouth in a clear aluminium pot by my side
now they say you are gone for some plotted and took your life in haste
even before you had time to ensure an heir
others say you were alone dismayed abandoned by your own
prey to enchanters coveting
the plot of land the house derelict forsaken by your absence
they say some one else caretakes it for himself
others no a forbidden son of your husband’s has raked it for himself
alas would you have known how landless nationless stateless i’d be
this dot of ancestral land clinging-clanging in memory
did you know then you might never see me again
nor probably ever hear of me
or if you had how might you have taken it all
did you believe the tales true and false they told
or only what you wanted to hear
of your precious prince you once served in silence and
who had gone to slave in other lands
Notes
eevaa peerankal muuvaa marunthu is a take on another well-known Tamil proverb: eevaa makkal muuvaa marunthu meaning “children who obey even before the order is given are a God-send”. Here, in lieu of children, the word “grandparents” is substituted
chembu: a small usually copper vessel shaped like a rounded vase with a tapering neck and open mouth, used for holding drinking water or milk
kuul: thick holdall gruel which may also be highly spiced
chemman: red soil
Vaithi: ayurvedic doctor, practising the traditional Indian homeopathic medicine
© T.Wignesan 1997 - Paris May 7, 1997 (from the Sequence/Collection: "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent")
Based on a line from Bob Marley.
“Some feel the rain, others just get wet.”
A rainy day - a deluge pouring from lowered clouds;
a chorus of grumbling curses, from scurrying crowds!
Winds, swirling capriciously from every direction.
Describes the inclement day, with absolute perfection!
Traffic spray drenching scurrying pedestrians, bent
only on getting home! This being their sole intent,
but over the sounds of traffic and splashing feet,
is heard a cheerful whistling, coming down the street!
Suddenly, out from out of the gloom and slanting rain
there appears a fellow, whistling a cheerful refrain!
Prancing and pirouetting, whirling his gamp,
without a raincoat or hat - he was a trifle damp,
but it seemed not to bother him one tiny bit at all!
Bowing left and right to everyone, he’d smile and call
loudly to exclaim - “what a lovely day it is today”
“so why not join with me to dance along our way!”
Polite replies were seldom given, and any heard
were only the odd expletive, or disdainful word!
But he was not angered nor for one moment upset,
and as for being damp? Wetter he could not get!
So I thought to stop, and decided on an instant whim,
to ask why he acted as he did? Had the rain affected him?
Laughingly he replied, but of course, and it always will,
for often life can be boring, and I always get a thrill
when I can enjoy a rainy day. It lifts my spirits high!
One should not need only a sunny day and a blue sky
to enjoy life to its fullest extent. Cool rain is to feel!
Besides renewing energy, it excites my latent zeal
when it touches my skin, for it brings me alive,
and I get this “joi de vivre” feeling and my drive
reaches heights which in other ways I never get!
Yes, I love the rain, despite my getting soaking wet!
Rhymer. February 16th, 2017.
Vergossene Tränen, verloren,
versickert in der Vergangenheit
wie Frühlingsschnee
im September
Kein Grab, kein Stein,
für die Erinnerung,
ausgelöscht die Namen,
unvergessen das Leid
Die Birken im Wäldchen
verschlucken sich an dem Licht,
nur die Blätter verdecken die Sonne
mit traurigen Augen
Angst verbreitet sich stumm,
der Abgrund wirkt endlos
am Rand der Grube,
nur stumpfe Augen, nur lautlos die Münder
Die Schüsse verklingen im Tag,
erbarmungslos, das höhnische Gelächter,
aus grauen Uniformen ohne Gesicht.
Kein Vogelgesang, kein Rauschen im Wald
--------------------------------------------------
Poured tears, lost,
deep into the past
like spring snow
in September
No grave, no stone,
for remembrance,
extinguished the names
unforgotten the grief
The birches in the grove
choked by the light,
only the leaves cover the sun
with sad eyes
Fear spreads in silence,
the abyss seems endless
on the edge of the pit,
only dull eyes, only silently mouths
The shots die away in the day,
mercilessly, the disdainful laughter,
from gray uniforms without face.
No bird's song, no rushing in the woods
--------------------------------------------------
Lágrimas derrarmardas, perdidas,
resumarn en el pasado
como la nieve de primavera
en septiembre
Ninguna tumba, ni una piedra,
por el recordatorio,
borrado los nombres,
inolvidado el sufrimiento
Los abedules en el bosquito
se tragaran en la luz
sólo las hojas tapan el sol
con sus ojos tristes
El miedo está extendiendo en silencio,
el abismo se ve infinito
al borde del pozo,
sólo ojos apagados, silencioso las bocas
Los disparos se desvanecen en el día,
sin descanso, la risa burlona de los uniformes grises sin rostro.
No hay canto de pájaros,
ni susurrar en el bosque
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In 1941, Babij Yar near the Russian town of Kiev was the year of death of over seventy
thousand Jews, murdered by the Nazi unit of the SS.
Jevgeni Jevtushenko, the great Russian poet's poem Babij Yar was published in the
"Literaturnaja Gazeta" in 1961.
Blooming colors in shade and sun;
Fragrant elegance, not to be outdone!
In field, garden and flowerpot,
The rose, the violet, and forget-me-not.
Proud and erect upon the stem,
All who pass must notice them!
Pastels and deeps; an array of brights,
Blaze the days and scent the nights.
Preening and dancing on summer's breeze,
In days of beauty. Days of ease.
I've glimpsed them at noonday, rounding the garden wall-
Much too vain to notice me at all.
And seen them blossom in June morning's heat,
In sun washed loveliness and total conceit!
Scarlet and blue and orange and yellow,
In Red Valley. In golden meadow.
Others bloom wild on desert sand,
Disdainful of a helping hand.
An ageless beauty that none could depose-
It's just the way it goes.
I’ve never befriend her.
Spider! She can never be my friend.
I can’t afford her disdainful sights
In the day and in the night.
Spider! She can never be my friend.
I can’t afford her anything.
The walk of her webs on my face,
When going out should I relate?
Her dirty fingers around my rooms
Upon my wall, ceilings,
And every nooks and crannies of my home.
She can’t be my child.
If she happens to be, I will disown her
On the day she is born.
She can’t be a member of my family.
If she happens to be, she won’t last long.
She can’t be my in law
If she is chanced to be, I will despise her.
Ugh Spider! I can’t just withstand her
Presence in my vicinity.
I have never befriend her
And never will I.
I have never befriend her fellow arachnids
And never will I (too).
#May be some one will tell me reasons why I should like her#
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.
29/05/2013