Best Disparagement Poems


Premium Member All That I Am

I love him with all that I am ...
Beyond the noise and hype of this world
Beyond the ebb and flow of ocean tides
Beyond all the hurt and pain we have borne
Beyond the dereliction and abuse
Beyond the bias and disrespect
Beyond the abandonment 
The disparagement, the scorn
I honor him, his beautiful spirit, and his heart
And ‘though tomorrow is not promised to him and me
As far as my heart does know, 
I will love him to infinity
~*~
Categories: disparagement, lovelove,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Sour Grapes

The teen’s face beamed with pride in his new car,
But Bestie exploded in jealous rage.
His reluctant congrats, a lame sidebar;
“I’d simply rather walk”— framed his outrage.

On Friday she failed the entrance exam,
Going to college, now holds no desire,
Higher education—a real flimflam,
she declared, all she’d felt now a fool’s pyre.

Excuses shirk blame—we can all decry,
Winning is fun, but losing kills yearning;
Life isn’t perfect—things do go awry,
But disparagement isn't good learning!

Be strong and just—suck it up when you lose.
Raisins are just sour grapes—with a bruise.


August 19, 2018
Categories: disparagement, anxiety, appreciation, conflict, courage,
Form: Sonnet

A Nation Healing

Afflicted after political taunts, hateful remarks and questioned immorality.
 
Notions of lies and corruption flooded the Internet; friends clashed.
A nation enraged staked her voice at the polls; results shocked some.
Trouble in the streets: looting, killing, and burning our American flag.
Instigated by sensation sellers, the media played games with American minds.
On the hill and far away anger moved into every home with the Internet.
No one who followed the elections was spared from relentless anxiety.
 
How would unification and healing take place in the midst of organized chaos?
Even the election itself fell under attack; peace in America was questioned. 
Aching hearts and messed up minds approached disparagement with caution.
Life like this in our Great America was unthinkable; the masses became mobs.
Imprinted in each U.S. citizen was the tradition of Unification after an election.
Now, notions of wars, socialism, communism, and every other-ism roared.
Growing wisdom, kindness, and direction will heal and make America Great Again. 

1/3/2017
Categories: disparagement, america, anger, anxiety, corruption,
Form: Acrostic

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Traditions of Disparagement

When men see through 
They also want to go through 

Lack of self control 
Leads to a number of tears

'Tis rape when a father breaks the wall
Of his adolescence daughter
And says it is tradition 

'Tis rape when a man wants to go through 
And he will 
Because he paid  lobola

Shall we call it rape
When he tells you the A to Z of promises 
And never keeps one 
Because he wanted to go through 

The sweet tongue of perception 
Has led to the fatherless children of Africa 
The so called cultural activities 
Has led to the insecurities of young women 
Depriving them of their rights to voice 

But our cries fall on deaf ears 
As though we are in outer space 
Generation by generation we have learnt 
To accept these traditions
Traditions of  disparagement
Categories: disparagement, africa, discrimination, women,
Form:

Grandpa, Il Furioso

My granddaughter loves me,

that's all I need to know.

I will  let  the toffs and profs

who came my way now  go.

For all their disparagement

why should I have the slightest care?

My granddaughter loves me

and everything is fair.

Then hark  my dear detractors,

and there are many I recall,

my granddaughter loves me,

and it's   yah-boo to you all.
Categories: disparagement, anger, granddaughter,
Form: Couplet

Of Everyone's Destination - Grave

that their usual neglection towards me
appeared today,

with their corpses,
they came here

my sympathy was always with them
as I kept reminding them of my countenance through ‘The Book’

I couldn’t talk to them ever,
but my inner angels will now converse with them,

so proud they were
before coming here

so loud they were
in glorifying the world

mightful and frail
are all inside me,

their minds had different notions about my hospitality
but with equivalence, I treat everyone

their digression from that world
was irrevocable on one day,

but their ignorance overpowered on it

their destination was already written by Almighty
prior to their appearance in womb

all the desires get choked & vanish
after coming here

kiths & kins won’t be helpful
mere strangers remain their identity

mastery won’t work here at all
intentions are the parameters of verdict

altruists are revered here,
whereas disparagement lies with egoists

here, tongue gets defunct
whereas other parts start talking

and this is the final destination
called Grave
Categories: disparagement, grave, islamic,
Form: Light Verse


George Had Under Him Five Cooks

George had under him five cooks
of various characters and looks
with great experience of many a year
in numerous countries both far and near,
all culinary experts of great art,
who were always ready to provide
any dish the customer might decide
to order from the menu cards.
And among these fellows there was one
who in preparing fancy dishes some
might say this man a genius is,
as skills as precious and pure as his
in creating flavours of such power
are hard to find in this world of ours.
Tall he was with a face so narrow
his nose projected like an arrow,
and of his country he was so proud
that never a person was allowed
to make the slightest disparagement
without receiving an icy glance.
Disliked he was by all his fellows,
his manner haughty, hard, not mellow,
which caused all kinds of minor friction
with his colleagues in the kitchen.

from The Adventures of George
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)
http://www.macdonrod.com
Categories: disparagement, humor, humorous, poetry, political,
Form: Narrative

What Is My Truth

Born into light and innocence, possessing a heart with an endless capacity to love, my appetite for life was abundant.  

Anchored in purity and virtuousness, hopes and dreams blossomed in my young mind lending to the idea of an auspicious future.   

Goodness, kindness, and peace soared all around in my blue sky like the majestic eagle.  

Love so profound for life, my tender heart had deep anguish for anything in foul circumstance as if it were my own experience and I had an appetency to comfort those suffering.  

Was my young truth a lie?

Darkness masks the light and innocence has become corrupt and atrocious allowing dread to replace my former vitality.  What has gone awry? 
 
I cannot find assuage from the pain and suffering caused by years of the sickness parade.  My once open heart has turned to stone allowing nothing to penetrate its lifeless surface.  

Purity and virtuousness do not exist in my new world and a lifetime of shattered hearts, emotional damage and scars have bound my mind to accept this existence.  

The allure once felt for my young truth, as I understood it, has faded into the darkness.  

Cynicism, disparagement and doubt now swarm my dismal gray sky like filthy flies feeding on a rotting carcass. 

Love for life is now rationed and my calcified heart pains for little.  Please absolve me from this mental prison.

Is my adult truth a lie? 

10/19/2019
© As Para  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: disparagement, change, dark, depression, hate,
Form: Free verse

A Message To Sangmi

Sangmi,
You've succeeded in breaking my heart,
but you can't break my pen.
I'm writing..
Can you stop me?

***

You were
playing like a child,
twinkling like a pearl
and smiling like a dream
when I suddenly loved you
and you suddenly hated me!

***

While commuting to school,
I used to repeat
"Sangmi,
my eyes aren't enough.
I need a million eyes 
to realize some of your inconceivable charms!
Your mind isn't enough.
You need a million minds 
to realize some of my massive love for you!"
and I used to smile.

While going back home, 
I used to repeat: 
"Thinking of Sangmi is a homework 
that I can't finish, 
and to be honest, 
I never want to finish!"
and I used to cry.

***

I didn't come to this land 
to submit my heart and go back,
but I did!
Sangmi, I love you!
I love you, Sangmi!

***

In every meeting,
you could see the love in my eyes.
You could see it in every gesture 
and feel it in every word I say. 
And I could see your hate for me clearly. 
I could feel the unjustified disparagement.

***

Although you're the only queen,
your face is the only face
and you voice is the only voice,
I can't be a slave. 
However, I can keep loving you forever!
Now, you can travel!
© True Love  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: disparagement, absence, angel, baby, beach,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Sugar Daddy Saturday

Top shelf cologne exhibits sensual tail of peacock
Entrances my senses at our eleven a.m embrace
Eyes shut, my erratic stamina borrows comfort 
Curled into leather front seat, chest inhales safe


Our waterfall guffaws cascade in establishments of stature
Grilled salmon, staple lunch, gregarious wine supports us
Role's novelty and glitz incessantly scratches my rapture 
Unorthodox allure makes mockery of standard formulas

Indirect looks from diners, behind raised glasses, warped
Solid gold arrogance declares benefits blatantly displayed
Society fears breaking the mould, glued to ordinary course
Our acquired theme sustains disdain for lifestyles staid

Ocean boulevard grandeur sees counterpart meshed potential  
Sleek topless travel exalts unfelt mist, road gloss moisture 
Your life thickened fingers amorously grasp my thigh's tender
I agree to be owned, an ornament connects material pleasure

When the Polstar slows to crawl of steady tiger, stealthily slips
mid afternoon into carpark of your harbour side apartment 
Disparagement wedges beneath my ribs, not having envisaged 
aerobics of limber mayhem, loosened make-up, not just yet

Smug expression hugs your face, read in tight lipped pressure
I assert my plan to showcase new swimsuit may now be ruined
"Absolutely promise, gorgeous, there's no chance you'll regret." 
My climbing premonition messages a gem of genuine 

Ponytail splayed against mirrored wall of elevator
Ardent kissing's conclusion resurfaces your chivalrous 
Door barely closed before I pouncing kitten paw you
Your flailing indicating a spare key cut for me, erroneous 

"My doll, my dear desirable, the key is incompatible." 
Mysterious grimace molests your face, causing me to frown
"Did the rum with lunch rupture your remaining brain cells?!" 
Fatherly pats of my arms speak a decoy which confounds 

Journey up two flights, could it be... heart in throat
Silenced keys caress sweat sodden peeled open palm
Your anticipating stare burns my back, unopposed
Oh, justify me - yes! - the door complies on demand

"Neighbour, do you like it?" superfluous inquiry smiling
Floating eight stories above glint of yacht metropolis 
Invited by windows handing out reviving hold of horizon 
Violent screams likely deafen you, interjected with frantic kisses
Categories: disparagement, beauty, candy, confidence, courage,
Form: Quatrain

This Is Seventeen

This is seventeen. 

Seventeen is loosely in the beginning of my life. Seventeen is realizing you’ve got a whole lot of life left in front of you. It is accepting that life is a page of writing that has been started, but is nowhere near finished, that a few doors have closed, but many more are still open, that some choices are irrevocable, but some may be changed yet, that there are still many what ifs that need to be figured out. 

Seventeen is being caught in the limbo of being seen as an incompetent child and being forced to make adult decisions.
 
Seventeen is having the freedom to drive anywhere, but having a curfew to stay within. 

Seventeen is losing many of the friends you used to have, but keeping the ones who are the closest to you, the ones who understand you the best, the ones you hope to have forever. 

Seventeen is being able to stay up late, eating pizza in the park, and play on a playscape trying to be kids for just a little longer. 

Seventeen is year long concert series and jamming out to your favorite bands covered in sweat. 

Seventeen is dying your hair bright colors, much to your mother’s disparagement, and then changing it a week later. 

Seventeen is being forced to choose what you want to do with the rest of your life when your favorite food changes on a daily basis and you have no idea how to function without your mom nagging you. 

Seventeen is being excited, scared, sad, angry, hopeful, happy, jealous all at once and trying to deal with it, while still completing your homework on time.
© Sarah Rose  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: disparagement, age, angst, youth,
Form: Free verse

The Clearing

He looked above on a clear blue sky 
without his shackles, after all those years. 
Even a heartless could understand 
why those tears flowed from his eyes. 

He was a convict of trial by disparagement.  
He was sentenced in the court of judgmental mind. 
But fate turned lenient for his emancipation 
from the cruel world where he long dwelt. 

From his grave, he stared unto the heaven,
trying to figure out how to ascend.  
His heart rejoiced in joyful celebration,
for, sharp words can't pierce him, no more. 

February 24, 2023 

The Clearing Poetry Contest 
Sponsored By: Craig Cornish
Categories: disparagement, heaven,
Form: Free verse

Need I Keep Watching Your Pretences

Need I keep watching your pretences:
You're good only at using tenses!
And I need not mind your courtesies:
Put you I have in parenthesis,
Catholic your inconsistencies,
On this could write a Master's Thesis.

Now, it's certain you're no monument,
Though fabulous your emolument,
Much cash left after picked ornament,
Never had cost much: sought liniment...

Need I keep observing your movements
That translate not into improvements?
To a passerby gross engagement
Or a reason for disparagement...

Confer I shall with the New Management.
Categories: disparagement, absence, career, perspective, prejudice,
Form: Rhyme

Failure

Trusted producer of crimson cheeks
That could last for weeks:
Prime source of the running temperature 
Of seekers of a different picture,
The hammering heart beats few people bear 
When nothing is going to happen till next year.

The arms that go limp and the brooding shoulders 
with which the failed recline on sympathizer elders; 
The rest remain a consoling hypothesis
And sometimes an irksome synthesis;
Failure, as a necessary stop - over along life’s highway 
And an attestation to life not a being a child’s play 
Neither den-inhabiting lion
Nor a scalding hot iron…
A whip with the whacks of encouragement
Not scheming on the skin to print a disparagement.


The blind and his many eyes

The blind does his walking,
With his trusted staff a- tapping,
His approach broadcasting,
Measured steps minding,
As his fall is his loathing

The driest on the subject of color,
Unless as a fairy tale,
To not here display valor,
As he ‘d a trillion times fail
Sure to be begging your pardon;
Upon describing Yellow
And completely in London,
As you portray the More Mellow…
Nevertheless equipped with the keener than normal,
Condition-warranted wisdom far from formal,
Fingers expertly feeling one twice
To later fish one out thrice:
Ears magically catching the faintest mumble
From the heady and the humble
And nostrils familiar with the smell of his workers
And body odor of  housebreakers.
Categories: disparagement, cry, education, fear, life,
Form: Rhyme

Loser Cries

Could you,Carson, imagine
That Ross gave me a margin,
Gap between us enlarging
With smiles into halls barging...
His words of encouragement
Ones streaked with disparagement,
As they show off management
And preach stricter engagement...

How should I really have felt:
By a pal beaten or belt?
Ross has his wins made 'A must'
And V tattooed on his bust,
Meaning,of course,I may rust
While after victory lust...

My shameful losses annual,
Has Ross been using manual?
Categories: disparagement, conflict, cry, devotion, wisdom,
Form: Rhyme
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