Best Disdainfully Poems
The Haunted House
An aging Victorian graphite three story house sat on a
promontory, lonely, deserted, weathered and forlorn.
Broken windows showed signs of cruel abuse from
passersby amused by throwing rocks we surmised.
This skeletal shell of a one-time elegant beauty
became a welcome refuge for my sister and I, wet
and chilled to the bone on that stormy autumn night.
Our car had broken down about two miles away.
There were no other homes or buildings nearby.
To our amazement the door was open and after
knocking loudly with no answer, we let ourselves in.
Cobwebs clung to our faces and hair as we entered
and brushed them away squeeling disdainfully.
I had a small torch on my keychain and with it we looked
around to try to find something to dry ourselves off.
We moved in unison across the creaking floor, shivering.
It was then that I felt cold fingers grasp my shoulder.
Wide eyed I slowly turned my head but no one was there.
We both heard errie laughter as chills ran down our spines.
We ran to the door but now it was locked and we were
trapped inside as panic set in with our hearts pounding.
Then all of a sudden two creatures appeared before us
standing there with matted hair and we both screamed
so loudly we scared each other, but with my little light I
could see we were looking at ourselves in a full length
dusty antique mirror. We laughed hysterically in pure relief.
I tried my cell phone again and miraculously got a signal.
I managed to contact the auto club who estimated 2 hours.
We waited impatiently until the auto club came to rescue
us and our car. The driver sat outside and honked his horn.
We screamed to him that we were trapped inside. He came
up to the front door and to our shock the door flew open.
We hurridly left that haunted house and never looked back
as the driver quickly drove away in the pouring rain.
8-27-18
Sponsor- Dear Heart
Contest- The Haunted House
Categories:
disdainfully, autumn, fear, horror, house,
Form:
Narrative
When I was a young child I studied ants
I loved their formation on ground and plants.
Like tiny soldiers lined, disciplined well,
They worked hard all day, from what I could tell.
Their strength was awesome, things they could carry,
Never wasting time, all day they'd tarry.
One time as I watched two lines in a row
In opposite directions they did go.
Then as I watched them, like a friend of mine,
Two friends stopped to chat then returned in line.
Ant's personalities, unique to see....
How akin these small creatures are to me.
I love their work ethic in an ant farm....
A splended tool to teach kids not to harm.
They work together harmoniously
And will protect their nest defensively.
Please teach your children the value they give.
Not to destroy their nests, please let them live.
They work to keep other insects at bay
And help till the soil in their special way.
I know households do disdainfully reject,
Yet these small insects gain my full respect.
They have survived millions of years on earth.
There-in lies their beauty, proving their worth!
11-2-18
Insects Poetry Contest~First Place~ in a winning list of seven
Sponsored by: Angela Tune
Note: Ants are eusocial insects of the family Formicidae and, along with the related wasps and bees, belong to the order Hymenoptera.
Ants evolved from wasp-like ancestors in the Cretaceous period, about 140 million years ago, and diversified after the rise of flowering plants.
It has come to light according to a new study, that ants produce their own antibiotics to deal with diseases that can be used to treat humans as well.
Ants do a lot for us and the environment in general. A single
large colonel of ants will pick up and or kill 100,000 other insects a day for food. So they're the pest control themselves of the insect kingdom. Many species of ants have a mutual relationship with plants that the ants may benefit from in some way. Over 12,000 species of ants have been scientifically identified. Ants are known to be a good source of protein and ingested in several countries.
Categories:
disdainfully, beauty, environment, insect, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Blind Faith
So, even the expression, blind faith, makes my blood boil.
I've had one too many conversations with "intellectuals" who disdainfully look down on us believers for believing in a Creator. They imply by the expression blind faith, that we do not have the mental capacity to think or to reason, that we blindly, or naively, are lead to believe in God without any proof.
They say that believing in an invisible person, or force is foolishness, a mere childlike fantasy nothing more. One commentator said "I used to have an imaginary friend, when I was a child, but I grew up, and no longer believe in fairy tales, and imaginary sky friends, like God".
Firstly, I would say that it is not foolishness, to believe in invisible forces. Science has proven the existence of radio waves, gravity, magnetic attraction, electricity, wi-fi, and on and on goes the list. So it is not the intellectually weak-minded who believe in invisible forces, it is all rational people.
To be frank, if there is no Originator of life, no Initial Causer, Creator, or Intelligent Designer, then what is left? What initiated life? Chance you say! Ok, let's look at random chance as the initiator of life. Ask any scientist what are the mathematical probabilities, that life, even in it's most rudimentary form came about by chance, they will tell you the odds are trillions to one, over billions of years!
So let me get this straight, believing in a great Causer, when we see the effect (us, life as we know it) is unreasonable, but according to them, it is more reasonable to conclude, that life came from nothing at all, and the odds are trillions to one against it, and that it is a fact. Interestingly, mathematics professors will tell you that 10 billion to one odds, is the limit, beyond that it is not only improbable, but rather, mathematically impossible to happen.
So, to prove God exists, all we need to do, is do the math! It is mathematically impossible that life came by random chance. For those that believe it to be true...sounds a little like...hmmm...... blind faith!
John Derek Hamilton
May 16,2017
Categories:
disdainfully, creation, truth,
Form:
Didactic
Until pureness and honesty pass,
Leaving pain and aggressiveness as the dimmed lights,
For the intricate works of the corrupt dark world,
Foreshadowing the collapse of the protective shield,
Covering my emotions…
Until timelessness and eternity pass,
Taunting and mocking me disdainfully,
While pointing at the scars and scabs on my heart,
Hoping to stimulate the past,
And misguide the future…
Until patience and faith pass,
Staring into my eyes passionately with concern,
And smiling with contagious warmth and charm,
Extending a hand of friendship and trust,
Consuming all falsities…
Until irony and sarcasm pass,
Frustrated with the parameters of life’s equation,
Shaking their heads disgruntled and disoriented,
As I watch the last of forever,
Disappear in the apparent horizon.
Categories:
disdainfully, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
I bred a rose of color rare
And gave it to my lady fair.
She looked at it disdainfully
Then, laughing, tossed it back to me.
No man, she said, her heart would hold
Lest he applied for it with gold.
That one of her high pedigree
Was not for gardeners like me.
I explained the rose for her I'd named,
But there was no swaying one so vain.
My shattered heart and I went home
And sat there in the gloom alone.
The garden that was to me so dear
I let grow desolate and bare.
Then love and roses proved to me
Their resilience and tenacity.
I woke one day in early spring
To find each blossoming again,
And in a spot where all could see
Bloomed the rose my new love bred for me.
Categories:
disdainfully, romantic,
Form:
Verse
I disdainfully anticipated its arrival
Believing it would compromise survival
Surprised how quickly it neared
Accompanied by changes, I feared
Just as quickly, it passed
At it’s insignificance I laughed
Now that its forever gone
Turning forty again, I long.
Written and posted 1/24/2016 for the Forty contest.
Categories:
disdainfully, age,
Form:
Rhyme
Ain't nothin' like a steamin' cup o' coffee to greet the early morn.
It'll calm yer nerves and git you goin' just as sure as you wuz born!
With mixin's added to suit yer taste, it must be scaldin' hot,
Decaf, regular, chicory-strong or mild, it really matters not!
Some folks prefer a styrofoam cup, others a massive mug,
But those proffer an indelicate way to down a gulpin' slug.
Others, a dainty cup and saucer, pinkie sedately bent,
Sippin' delicately so social faux pas one is sure to prevent!
I hear it ain't acceptable to dunk a donut in yer mug o' java,
Or pour coffee in a saucer to cool, tho' it's hot as flowin' lava.
But I ain't concerned about it bein' a great big social blunder,
As folks disdainfully stare at me as if I wuz some alien wonder!
Docs debate the merits of caffeine, whether it's healthy or not.
Let 'em bicker, I'll decide what to percolate in my coffee pot!
My dear old Dad had his daily caffeine fix, livin' 'til ninety-four.
I've done the same fer years and I'm approachin' nigh four-score!
Nowadays, fancy concoctions are brewed for the discernin' taste;
Expresso, mocha, cappuccino, even Irish whiskey laced!
Such exotic ambrosia to others I'll graciously defer.
I'll keep on slurpin' an ordinary cop 'o joe, which I much prefer!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
disdainfully, funnysocial,
Form:
Rhyme
"Spiteful Minds"
by~ Edward McCormick
Disdainfully negotiating gain,
The spiteful mind their heart's desire alone.
An obvious destruction they attain
Through dialogue with underlying tone.
A tiny drama brings about an end.
In spite of mind, the heart wants what it bleeds.
Enlightenment is key to comprehend
So very little satisfies our needs.
by~ Poet Destroyer
Heavy and alone, two "Spiteful minds",
The worthless moments in the skies.
With no reasons and why's!
The warning sounds of midnight, thick and blind,
Giving our hearts away, a solid sign.
Wicked taste mountains of lies.
Satisfaction In our breathing eye's.
Waiting for our gushing needs to land unwind;
Stiff like the blood beneath the sea.
"Spiteful minds" rising beyond to morbid moon.
Destruction in the slowness of ones purity
The world, is a gift one prolongs to see.
A music box with no tune.
Needing and spending, we lay in spiteful tears of misery.
a collaboration with * Edward McCormick
Categories:
disdainfully, confusion,
Form:
Sonnet
As I sit and try to imagine,
I look and find another distraction,
find there's a fly in my poetry soup,
quite like a Michael Phelps swimming laps
around like an Olympian champion,
he must think he's pretty cool
using my bowl of soup like a swimming pool,
as I disdainfully sit here and watch him
while drinking my glass of coke,
he swims figure 8's and alternates
between freestyle and the backstroke,
once again I try to think of a poem verse
as the fly swims and winks at me, what nerve!
then he slows down and does the doggie paddle
looking like he's treading the soup waters for awhile,
finally he stops and looks mercifully at me,
and as he goes under I count to three,
the fly in my soup is finally gone,
once again I can concentrate and carry on.
Categories:
disdainfully, humor, insect, symbolism,
Form:
Light Verse
I have forfeited every inch
Of your bitter blow
And you have reaped the profit.
You took my discretion for granted
And placed me inside a cage.
You withered,
Disdainfully,
In an open page.
The palate of your face
Eating at the sky
And delivering me to justice.
Haunting me and my forbidden womb.
Drenching the maggots
In silver and golden
As they nibble at a
Greasy toothed moron
From the grave.
And in temptation,
You'll haunt them too.
A wandering pilgrimage
Isn't far from you.
And with this thought,
Your on foot,
Fleeing to the very next castle
Of whore ridden death and degenerates.
And because of his avarice
You will never turn back.
And because the tips of her hair,
Drenched in brandy
And ever tickling at your spine,
You will never turn back.
At agate,
An open wound sits
Mingling with the dark and the lecherous.
Having cocktails with the waitress
Whose initials spell hepatitis
And whose breasts aren't far from
The waist you see so fit.
Gangrene has not swallowed
This slit up just yet
And it is far too simpleminded
Of you to forget how you pleaded
With her to let it heal.
Let it heal.
Let it stop.
Let it seal.
To free the ever so silent songbird
Who has been caged in your debt
For centuries,
Bargaining and wagering with
The undertaker
And licking at injustice with her toes,
Wanting nothing more than to bear
The child of a man who hates the sea
But is born from the salt of it's accomplices.
A man whose bitter death is but a tragedy
To shoe makers
But sleeps under a petticoat
For fear of losing his head.
The man who holds his key so tightly
With all probability and intention
Of letting it go.
Categories:
disdainfully, allegory, angst, death, me,
Form:
Free verse
Yeah, I think it's a pity I dumped her in the wilderness
Strange things often happen in life, you know
Time and again we met together, talked of common interest
Raised the same slogans (you guessed right,
both of us belonged to the same political outfit)
Until she felt that she had developed a soft corner in her heart for me
At least she suggested something like that
Wasn't it the right time for me to grab the opportunity? Should I
Have looked like a hopeless fool?
Accordingly i made the first move
And the next few months glided by like a quick scroll on the laptop
Together we spent times at riverbanks, at lush restaurants
Leaning against each other's shoulders, watching sunset
Hands touching hands, feet scrubbing feet beneath tables...
She talked of apartments, of good jobs, secured future
Me casting surreptitious glance at passing belles,
Their fuller or underdeveloped busts
She expressed genuine concern whenever I looked glum
I never cared to ask why her visage looked tired
Somehow it didn't click, I don't know why
Perhaps she felt 'too sure', complacent to possess
Life's new treasure
So when on that humid night
After we shared the bachelor bed in her apartment
Leaving her asleep under the silent glare of the ceiling
I came out, and
Dumped my cellphone disdainfully in the first trash-bin.
Categories:
disdainfully, betrayal, dark,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The resonance of Time's ticking is unbearable!
Once you appeared on the warm and soft riverbed
Years passed stealthily
The 'elfin pinnace' glided on and on
The echoing life slowly engulfed you to a hallucinating slumber
And then
Left on the arid banks
Where even the carcasses of buffaloes rot disdainfully
You stare at yourself, shocked and wide awake...
Categories:
disdainfully, age,
Form:
Imagism
1.
A bird on anthill
A little boy
A stone on the ground
2.
Prideful, I couldn't ask
For her name and phone number
Now she's gone, I'm regretting.
3.
In your dream
A python is chasing you,
You couldn't lift your leg?
4.
In your dream
You are falling, suddenly
You grow wings and flies away?
5.
The sun
Rising and laughing disdainfully
Forgets that somewhere dawn's waiting.
Categories:
disdainfully, childhood, death, dream, environment,
Form:
Haiku
The verse runs down the stream
Dolefully, paintings your
Soulfully, I’m intrigued
Severely, like my cat!
The music resonates
Painfully, story your
Disdainfully, we talk
Sinfully, like the moon!
Your love drips wet like rain
Silently, our love-making
Violently, we now stare
Intently, at each other.
Intensely, let us kiss now,
Fiercely, like the sun!
-Pin Dew (02/05/2017)
Note: Experimental Sonnet- The rhymes and para-rhymes are inside the poem, and the meter is Iambic Trimeter.
Categories:
disdainfully, i love you, kiss,
Form:
Sonnet
It starts with just one,
Just a small one,
A delicate pinkish shooting star
Chosen painstakingly from the flash on the wall
While a girl with blue hair and a nose ring
Watches disdainfully from behind the counter.
It takes more than one trip
To check out the place
On the south side of town, on a dimly-lit side street
Between an all night laundromat and a café
With a dingy neon sign that reads “Garden of Eatin.”
Then a venture inside (to make sure it’s clean)
And a conversation with the proprietor,
A painfully thin ghost of a man
With a shaved head, a long black beard
And one whole arm tattooed
(it’s called a sleeve, I later learn)
With a brightly colored scene of a Chinese garden.
Yes, they use only new packaged needles
And all the equipment is sterilized.
It takes a few beers and one shot of tequila
To arrive on the appointed day
And sit in the cracked fake-leather chair
Trying not to look like this is my first time,
At the ripe old age of 44.
The whirring sound of the needle
Reminds me of a dentist’s drill
And I get a familiar shiver of anticipated pain
Before the very real pain of the first ink
Bites into my shoulder.
When the ordeal is finally over,
The black-bearded artist hands me a small mirror
So that I can view the “body art”
For which I’ve paid sixty dollars, an hour’s time,
And several days of agonizing indecision.
It is, in a word, fabulous.
He covers it with gauze and gives me “aftercare instructions”
(just like they do in the hospital)
And a tube of something called “Tattoo Goo”
And I walk proudly out the door,
Wondering if the young couple dressed in black
Eating hummus in the Garden of Eatin’
Realize that I have a fabulous,
Spectacular shooting star
Under this bandage I wear on my shoulder.
I wear the tattoo like a badge of honor,
A medal of courage, a sign of the times.
I love it.
And it’s only the first one.
Categories:
disdainfully, adventure, life, me, me,
Form:
Free verse