Best Guilt Ridden Poems
A wounded star
f e l l
to Earth on the night he left.
It grew too heavy with wishes made by my heart being bereft.
A twinkling star shattered into pieces of a million bits or more
when my deluge of requests weakened its fiery core.
Wishing upon heavenly bodies is what we dreamers do.
I hope this one forgave me when it bid the night adieu.
How painful it must have been to fade as a shining star,
plunging to its death from the weight of my scars.
Glistening light darkened when its points were b r o k e n,
chiseled away by caustic words, bitterly spoken.
Would if I could, gather all the little pieces in my hand
and mold them into a new star upon love's command.
Until I find a way, in fragments the shards will remain,
a Heavenly body now fallen because of love's disdain.
Once emblazoned as fire, it was a diamond drifting across the sky.
I will be forever guilt-ridden with sorrow, knowing I caused it to die.
* * * * * * * * *
September 21, 2016
All The Little Pieces Contest sponsored by Broken Wings
I want to live
today
into my being
I want to love
this hour
into fullness
I want to write
this moment
into eternity
Let me live
let me love
let me write
don't burden me
with responsibilities
with agendas and appointments
with guilt ridden reminders
of what I must do or say today
let me dream it all away
who knows
I might be sleep seduced
death directed
before I attain the apex of aroused awareness
what a crime that would be
if I lost this opportunity
to live
to love
to write
let me be
drenched in destiny
can't you see
desire denounces distractions
from what is meant to be
Let me live
Let me love
Let me write
I need to simply be
the woman inside of me
a lover of life, love, and poetry
Eileen Manassian
Stopped by Seven Eleven to find absolution...
maybe some triple chocolate Häagen-Dazs'
slice of heaven., a little peace; redemption.
A lanky guy dressed in jeans and a smile,
one welcomed in a greeting...
walked the parking lot selling flowers..
wrapped in a clear shielded bouquet.,
set his sights on me.
Wonder now, whom the more desperate of us two,
either way wasn't showing all his tarot cards,
when I waved him aside.
Keepin' that deadly pace..
fallen far, it seemed,
from any kinda grace.
In that one second, my mood a little off..
face must've showed it.. too late.
He knew, as I did too..
he had to ask,
anyway..
I just wanted to be,
somewhere else, anywhere..
else.
Anyway., rested uneasy on my mind.
I made my way out past the door,
marked in inches and feet.
For a moment, I thought about it.
Guilt-ridden, eyes searchin' for him..
young woman with her flowers..,happy,
his truck backin' to gas up, full of flowers..,
still smiling..
Almost turned and went back. a chance to repay,
my fellow brother in arms..
'hey, I do want those flowers after all..
how much are they?, keep the change.'
Man, when did things get this bad...
One of these days I'll find you..
your smile will be my reason.,
to buy those sad looking flowers.,
though I don't think you care much for them.
Another day perhaps...
I'll find it; we'll find it..
the perfect poem.
One written just for you and me.
Just a guess., I think that flower vender heard it already,
and wanted only to share its miracle with me...
Hatred
Written: by Miracle Man
8/6/2019
What lies in man’s heart cannot be dark,
Or in his head, exist thoughts impure.
His hatred for others render his life stark,
And will always overshadow life’s allure.
Dormant things from others hidden,
In dusty corners of his evil mind.
“Dust Bunnies” oft render him guilt ridden,
But as he metes he gets in kind.*
*Matthew 7:2
For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.
When I was young,
I often clung,
to many little things.
I'd reach up high,
again retie,
my mama's apron strings.
I sometimes did,
what mom forbid,
although she'd make it clear.
Thoughts still linger.
I remember,
through each fleeting year.
Acquainted still,
her stories thrill,
with many left untold.
I can't go back,
though mem'ries track,
to years I'd rather hold.
I'm lost in thought,
it can't be caught,
despite my futile search -
mama singing,
mama bringing,
this small boy to church.
Though I was touched,
and changed so much,
through Christ, the perfect One -
I cannot stay,
time slips away,
from all that she had done.
I try to grasp,
and hands I clasp,
around those many things -
but mem-ry strands,
slip through my hands -
just like those apron strings.
I miss her so.
Emotions show.
There's moistness in my eyes.
I can't withhold,
though I am old,
my oft guilt-ridden cries.
Though sometimes sad,
I'm always glad,
whenever I think of -
my mama's cares,
my mama's prayers,
and her most precious love.
©2011 louis gander / ganderpoems.org
Zeitgeist - My 1960s - Liz Walsh
Kaftans, mini-skirts, Carnaby Street fashions.
Angel Delight, Hirondelle wine and that sheepskin rug.
"The price of round steak on a Saturday" while
Magdalen Laundries kept dark, dark secrets!
Nylon socks, Cuban heeled boots, body odour -
"it's always the girl's fault - she led him on!-
Button-down collars, civil Rights Marches,
Suspender belts old fashioned, false eye-lashes black -
Excitment, tights, "parents afraid of the new".
Stilletto heels crucifying, Rosary beads grumbling -
"Oh Sacred Heart of Jesus I place all my trust in thee"
Hamburgers, Fleetwood Mac, Anoraks - guilty! remember
Archbishop McQuaid! Bishop Lucey bullying Father Good!
"Wimpey Take-away" - meet a fella - womans lib!
Vietnam War, Albert Hall and Wilson Pickett.
"Would you kiss a boy on the first date?
Drip dry nylon, Dickie Rock gyrating
"Plastics are the future” the graduate said.
"Would you take the pill?"
Tayto crisps - "cheese and onion" munching in the dark.
Che Guevara, Mao Tse Tung and that little red book
In an empire line dress.
Church domination, contraception and major cigarettes
"Back-combing" Vesta Curries and a packet of smash
Maxi, mini, midi-dresses - pan-stick
Mary Quant, Twiggy and the Film Society party.
Flirting innocently, terrified hope - guilt ridden thoughts.
Surges of males, females standing
Eyes scanning, high pitched laughing
"Would you like to dance?"
Free love, flower power, heart thumping
Expensive shoes, a relic of St. Imelda and a chain-store dress -
"She will only get married” Miss Brigid Hayes said!
Afraid of the future, afraid of corruption
Brain exploding - ALL MIXED UP -
Once there was an average Joe
You may know
Named Poe
Having a soul stirring heart
To start
He did his society part
Right up until riding in the Poe edict funeral cart
Telling tales
Artistic, entertaining, informative daily mail
Appearing in the newspaper without fail
Ghostly guilt-ridden windy gales
Published to scare
Those blowing hot air
Some may state
This historical great
Enjoyed a night where drinking
Clouded his mind no longer clearly thinking
Sun scribe was found dead
Reason reported spirits played with the writer's head
Known for poetic verse
Setting plots befitting the hearse
Finding words to describe deathly birds
You see Ravens love to steal
It was their deal
Probably to have a meal
That seemed real
Reflecting on Boston Baltimore life
Sharp as a vengeful knife
While the 19th Century journalist searched for the truth
Someone hit the corrupted roof
An enemy or foe
Wanting him to go
Ending his interpretive show
Today haunting is the creative character’s game
Academics stoking Edgar’s fine name
Respectfully no shame
Using a theatrical stage
Reading from the author’s page
Unleashing gothic images from the disturbed cage
Hoping the message is understood
Translation needed, grammar not so good
Now in the modern era called fake news
Pointing fingers at the accused
Ponder when in the Sunday column pews
Do you really want to be a part of a bloody story?
Only to end up on talk shows Geraldo or Maury
Two days have passed and its not over
I'm still ravaged by my gory deed of inaction
Been praying to the gods asking mercy
To forgive me and grant me guts and to be swifter in action
I live in a country unsafe for women
Laws and its protectors are a dicy affair
Always frightened of getting trapped
In a horrific misadventure on the streets
Shocked and shaken up after watching a late night movie
A nerve wrecking, true story on honour killing
I took long to doze off only to wake up before I slept
Foggy and heavy in mind wondered what was happening
I could hear a girl shouting and a man yelling
Got out of my bed and tried to hear from where
The heart rending cries were coming much beyond midnight hour
I walked to the window but couldn't see through the thick creepers
Rushed to the lobby windows for a clearer view
Saw a young girl sitting on the road before the car in tears
Her husband -presumably with the authority he was using-
Angered and abusive was asking her to get into the car
She refused and kept pleading that her arm was broken
She refused to be seated and was given a tight slap
She was just howling that she was in pain as her arm was broken
A lady who I thought was her mother was foolishly consoling her
I wasn't sure if she was drunk after late Christmas celebrations
Or a regular victim of a suffering male chauvinistic abuser
Before I could wake up another neighbour she was shoved
Into the car and driven off and I couldn't see her mother anywhere
I'm guilt ridden that I didn't act quickly to save her
Keep wondering which house she belonged to
Has she been hospitalised or suffering more brutalities?
Now I'm stocked with helplines, I pray to the gods to make me quick in action
December 27, 2015
Contest: Deep and Dark
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Shadowy Scavengers
The darkest hour of the hallowed night
Wake up the blood dried shadows with
Unfulfilled desires rotting in purgatory
Wriggle out of their graves to earth flying
To their unwanted descendants' homes
To fill them with fearful reminders that
Their ancestors are connected through blood ties
Beware of the denizens of the night!
Crosses and candles at the door
Scare these lifeless invisible parchments away
Thresholds laden with goodies satiate these
One night scavengers howling with the wind
Gifting and treating the tiny devilish vampires
Purge them of their undoings and guilt ridden lives
All the empty hungry souls are tricked
To the golden ladder of salvation to heaven
EIGHTH
Balveen Cheema
October 18, 2015
Contest: Halloween- Prompt-2
Sponsor: Bev Smith
Family love is born in little rooms,
around sofas, settees, dinner plates,
with paternal bond that strengthens and grooms,
unswerving link that lasts till heaven’s gates!
We were such family in a French town,
traditional, true, religious us four,
mother was good at making wedding gowns,
father a decorator ran paint store!
Sister and I watched German troops on streets,
Tuesday August year nineteen forty three,
parents held us close, could hear their heartbeat,
that was the last day we would all be free!
Dragged on to street by the Nazi soldiers,
our father was punched kicked and beaten blue,
we wept helpless, clung to mother’s shoulders,
that was the last of our father we knew!
Pulled away from mother and Sis I cried,
screaming imploring, no mercy, no heart,
that day for me when humanity died,
was day my family was torn apart!
Packed in a train suffocating with stench,
alone defeated waited journey’s end,
with dead and dying that made stomach wrench,
four days of thirst and suffering to spend.
I remember that train to Auschwitz well,
journey that destroyed many lives like mine,
where our love and hope to tyranny fell,
to death we were paraded in a line!
Six months past we heard exchange of fire,
that made evil enemy pack and run,
We were all rescued from behind barbed wire,
was still hope and goodness under the Sun!
When God smiles he smiles generously well,
lifts suffering souls from bottomless pit,
That day he was smiling we could all tell,
his eyes perhaps gleaming and face well lit!
Each life and hope with dignity restored,
we were treated, bathed clothed and given food,
In room of people saw face I adored,
sobbing with outstretched arms my mother stood!
United with mother back to my house,
and years of togetherness we would share,
on the wall hangs our striped prisoner blouse,
to tell trappings of hatred and its snare!
The train to Auschwitz took many to death,
guilt ridden, to and fro ran that train,
but tracks remain, hate may creep back in stealth!
train to Auschwitz should never run again!
Premier contest 6th placement
Written 09/April/2021
10 syllables each line (PS syllable count)
based on a true story as related by a 93 yr old Auschwitz survivor
The last train to Auschwitz poetry competition
Kai Michael Neumann sponsored
It was a very dark night
With no one to listen her plight
She looked for mercy, but found wanton eyes filled with lustful delight.
She saw her life flash before her eyes, her fright now scaled new height
It was a horrendous feeling, one of pain and Hurt
Alas it was all over: the face of her family suddenly dazzled in her mind, clear and bright.
The perceived guilt-ridden existence weighed her like an anchor weighs a ship
The assailants had left her alive but scarred her for life
She dreaded society more than her present trauma, for she may recover from second, it is the first one which will haunt her for life.
""As I lay silent, burden free
I asked the world to join with me
With my tongue planted firmly in my cheek
I offered answers for the poor and meek
Beware the guilt ridden, for theirs is the earthly kingdom
where starved and thirsty creatures come to drink
from a Fountain not of their making,
but will forever be offered them just the same.
I asked my brothers to forgive a harmless illusion
instead it was me the Romans chose to shun.
I asked my brothers to know the one true Boss
instead they strung me high up on this...well you know...
Because I held such a controversial stance
My 'church' made certain nothing was left to chance
They warped my endless love and set my words on fire......""
For this next rhyme, I think I'll go with 'desire'.
Hell no I'm not Jesus, I never said I was.
I'm only pretending I know what he would say, just because
sooner or later his real message has to be heard
I'm just doing my part by spreading the word
Hopefully I got it right but probably not
I'm no visionary, I'm just tired of being a robot
I have no idea what Jesus would say...
I write bad poems since I never learned to pray
I don't know what would Jesus do...
Every time I ask him, all I hear is 'I love you'.
Do you like to stand there and watch me burn?
Do you enjoy listening to me cry?
When you hit me I feel as though I'll die,
Who knew that maternal love really hurt?
The freedom that I know I'll someday earn
Makes me swallow pride, tell her its not a lie,
That really it doesn't hurt and that I
Will never leave her. I know she will learn.
When I leave her standing out in the rain.
Walking away from the terrible place
I no longer stand for all the abuse.
Just stare out that sheet of glass - window pain,
Guilt ridden tears streaming down her pale face.
I am not to return, I will refuse.
Someone’s wearing horns.
“I keep turning ideas ‘round and ‘round,” these are your words not mine.
Let’s dance, El Toro.
Jagged footwork, chaotic turn of events, graceful flip-flopping of antics; the trick is to hold your stance so he can’t plow through you. Close your eyes so you can’t see his smile. It’s the only line of defense.
Twirling images of skin like red satin falling in a downward pirouette.
Let’s scheme, El Toro.
This is dangerous ground we’re stomping on.
Someone’s wearing strings.
“But, you’re taken,” these are my words not yours.
Let’s dance, Geppetto.
Guilt ridden irony, daydreaming about scenarios, and the act of being controlled- just keep following the pull and listening to your master. Entertain the boundaries and adhere to the rules. It’s the only way of survival.
Tangled visions of life, like twine knotted in the midst of your grand production.
Let’s scheme, Geppetto.
This is a shaky stage we’re performing on.
Sweet melodious conscience, the Devil’s cello is humming.
Please don’t ask me twice.
Please don’t ask me thrice.
First half of the month cooler, then the second half warmer
Spring clocks turned forward, daylight lasting longer
Games of gold always told, losing harassed nine-fold
Allowed homers and walked batters that would be never
Scrimmage full of big time moments given, at the end guilt-ridden,
but rainy days getting more frequent leaving fields flooded.
Rainout, rain delay, games are stopped or canceled
deep into the night as fans sit in the grandstands
Agonizing for players and fans alike going home drenched
Despite the weather or the ups and downs of the sports
games will be played and fans will always spend watching their sporting events
4/19/2017