Best Harangued Poems
One tall and gaunt with hooded eyes
The other bearded, bent, time-worn and wise
They relished unfurling their intellectual sails
To seek secrets of wisdom on ancient gales
Two wizened old philosophers in a huddled conspiracy
They picked through the bones of archaic mythology
Pondered the tomes of scholars of yore
Then fleshed out the virtues of masters of lore
They sniffed out the dragons of hateful hypocrisy
Harangued and railed against heinous heresy
Decried the dogmatist's intolerant curse
Then like poets esteemed they trundled through verse
Their furrowed cheeks glowed as the whiskey flowed
Voices gravelled and slurred as their logic blurred
They fumbled and mumbled, weary and weaving
As the dying embers of day, dropped into evening
With their feverish fervour fully feted
They stumbled into the night, agreeably sated!
As he stood paper cup in hand by the drinking fountain on a train
somewhere south of Kankakee, miles from Chicago,
a quiet, pensive, older man was getting harangued by a loudmouthed,
blowsy, beer drinking, inconsiderate, disheveled and overweight woman.
Aka, his wife.
She finally shut her mouth after he exploded with,
“get your face out of mine, yo breath smells like
you been eatin camel dookey for a week!”
The laughter from the old men in the club car was deafening,
so she just sat down and cried all the way to New Orleans.
This narrative for the comma contest is a childhood memory I observed riding the Illinois Central’s “City of New Orleans.” Circa 1955.
There once was a chick from up north
who harassed, harangued, and so forth
Reports had been filed
evidence compiled
She is 'net restricted henceforth
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Thirty
While the Mullah versed in the Hadith and fiqh harangued his flock
All over the milling crowds outside plastic cups did hands lock
By four even before the dazzling Cyclop-eye pierced the gloom
The mosque’s Administrator convened a crisis meeting ad hoc:
“Be it known from this hour forth no more couscous nor green tea
Will be served for our stocks – thanks to chefs – stand consumed empty
The hallal shelves at malls’ “Square-Oven” and “Prix-de-Chef” stores
Stand undermined transparent since noon this Faithfuls jamboree!”
The King of Morocco promised his palace tea consignments
The Begum Ali her weight in gold for present requirements
Local residents boiled water to brew other sachet scents
A steady stench rose like humus vapours for lack of toilet vents
Rowdy commotions outside drowned the holy deliberations
To bring the harrowed Mullah out on the Faithfuls’ positions:
Braying half-Turk clad in jellaba borne over heads by hands
Wan Quixotic head with beard wobbling through elucubrations:
“Set not this Tent-Maker Miscreant on consecrated land
Let drop this putrid loin of meat on tarmac or public sand!”
“Sire!” quoth the Administrator, “This be no Tent-Maker’s son!
Forsooth, he’s of no other than the Tent-Vendor’s vagrant band!”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
For fiercest queens, the finest pedigree,
Begetter and bestower of all lauds;
For foulest plagues, the fairest remedy,
Despoiler and destroyer of all frauds.
Revered for rectitude, renowned for laurels,
You helped reform the world to honest fame;
Reviled as sinister, renounced on morals,
The world deformed you to mendacious shame.
Now candid trade’s betrayed by blackened graft,
And harmless wit’s harangued by hurtful wile,
And simple skill’s arraigned by compound craft,
And vulgar pride's maintained by vulpine guile.
The grossest lies all get averred for gain
Since humblest truth became impugned and slain.
with a beard and a weary face
i head out into the town
tired eyes and tired hearts
result in nothing but wretched frowns
cider splashes down my jeans
i slip and fall on the floor
i bump i bang i get harangued
and then im shown the door
waiting for a taxi head in my hands
urination down the filthy alleyways
vomit bursts from my cracked lips
its all the same day after day
I’ve never been to Sicily, and yet
it’s always felt a part of me. Who knows?
Another life, another alphabet?
Alongside Archimedes, jotting prose
in Agrigentum I, with each vignette,
imbibing wine, as bitter as regret,
harangued the hellene farmers, stoning crows.
That Greek me – did I tend (as now) to get
frustrated when my verse was ‘on the nose’,
all too transparently in Homer’s debt?
But Italy’s a credible coquette,
more winning in her ways than we suppose.
Like Rhapsody in Blue’s smooth clarinet,
she captures us. We victims, in love’s throes,
admire her steely claws, as black as jet.
Written October 11, 2022
DISILLUSIONED BY ROMANTIC POETS..
SO MANY EMPTY WORDS..
AND EPITAPHS OF LOVE..
HARANGUED BY CONSTANT DOUBT'S..
TO MANY QUESTIONS ASKED..
OF TRUST AND EXPECTATIONS..
CONFUSED BY SIMPLE LOGIC..
DON'T READ BETWEEN THE LINES..
FIND A REASON TO BELIEVE..
CONCERNED BY LESSER WORRIES..
MY HAIR IS GOING SLIGHTLY GREY..
AND MY WRINKLES SEEM TO SMILE..
DISAPPOINTED BY MY FRAILTIES..
A MAN WHO CAN'T BE TRUSTED..
I HAVE A ROVING EYE..
DISENCHANTED BY THE WASTED TIME...
FAILED HOPES AND ASPIRATIONS..
ARE SITTING NEXT TO ME..
CHAPERONED BY LONELY HEARTACHES..
SINGING SADLY IN THE STREET..
EMOTIONALLY I'M OUT OF TUNE...
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse ejaculation) beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Earth bloodies the moon
its face drowned in severed veins—
harangued in the sky
for all to see Sun's disdain
in being eclipsed usurped
The heavens lament,
scattering rust into dusk,
for the blood red burns
when what's seen is black and white—
space smeared with wrath set ablaze.
A blood moon warns us
every orbit has peril,
in being dethroned
by an unyielding eclipse,
tainting our shadow of self
even scrunching brow
defeats and doth be lie
this one measly mortal well nigh
tuckered out on par with calculating pi
tangential to asking if and/or
how i can access
fullest potential...say to write
about with the aid of symbols
i.e. letters to expound on an idea trite
or one that confounded mankind
many millenniums or quite
sum indeterminate orbits 'round el sol,
no ability within this mite
ova reproductive happenstance (yes me),
whom ye could tell go fly a kite
for inducing confusion,
but the nature of this har re: beast
with a little insight
gripped, harangued, rankled,
et cetera, thus communicates
hello or goodnight,
which understandable
simple words may not excite
as quotidian oft repeated philosophical
mental challenges
i didst expend effort to cite,
which mind exercises offers
no exit, ouch that doth byte
and if subjected to a brain scan
would blind technicians
and set alight
frenzied uproar amidst *****Sapiens
via intense thinking to induce blind
ness flailing at feeling trapped
asper being teased at find
ding no beginning
or end like a mobius strip
analogous to space/ time continuum
that little effort could
blow a fuse in the mind.
adieu: from matthew scott harris
hook halls schwenksville, pennsylvania
hiz home tow win.
Contemptuous clouds were looming largely.
Their overhead disdain exuded warm
phlegmatic spittle on me angrily.
Conspiring gales abet the raging storm.
The thunderous claps reverberated
abusive oaths, some four-lettered words --Bang!
and boom! -- resumed throughout the tempested
display. Below, I protested, harangued:
" I stand amidst your heavenly vengeance
composed and wet. Your threats of torrent might
impresses only the meek. If by chance
you see me tremble --not because of fright.
I shiver only from the cold my friend.
Rain! Blow! And Clap! I'll brave it till the end."
The scuffling duo sparred in the park
Their screams and shouts so very marked
A bag was clutched in the woman's hand
A man had grabbed it while he harangued
"Let go!" He shrilled and tugged it more
"Tis mine, not yours!" The woman swore
The strap tore his hand, he released his grip
The woman fell back in one mighty trip
Another spoke out with voice strong and stern
"It belongs to her, so it must be returned."
The other placated the poor fallen lass
He showed her the bag with gold coloured hasp
The woman leapt up, grabbed the bag and was gone
"It belonged to my wife." Said the man all forlorn
"Oh I'm sorry." Said the other, watching her go
Laughing and jeering, bag firmly in tow
She headed toward a blue, murky pond
The path, alongside, was slippy beyond
Now her footing was lost to the slime and the mud
As she sallied forth into furthermore sludge
The man strode swiftly to view her demise
With a duck on her head holding its prize
The little red bag was firm in its beak
So the man took it back and the duck said quack quack.
In a dream of future foreseen, a stranger I see,
Familiar, yet foreign, just staring back at me.
Lines etched by laughter, eyes bright with knowing,
Face creased, scarred and pitted with forgoing,
Harangued and haggled with lines of old age.
A tapestry of choices made, right there on stage.
Suddenly, I recognize this creature standing there.
It's a strange concoction of self-awareness in the glare,
It's my future self, rejigged and rearranged,
Of future and past potential, all there estranged.
There's a whispers of triumph in the hair,
Shades of regret, darkness under the eyes that stare.
Rosy cheeks beam the warmth of relationships much cherished.
A smile half-baked is tangled in lament, entwined, embellished.
I see a montage of moments I've not lived yet.
An amalgam of potential, of what not quite, not yet met.
Of things tried, juggled, shuffled, as corrections.
Of resolutions, lessons, and inner self-reflections.
What dreams were bloomed? What paths were trodden?
What mountains were scaled? In what sea was I sodden?
How has this future seen, and past reshaped, conned the future me?
It's mosaic of maybes, a collage of what could be,
A kaleidoscope of who I could, and might be yet.
An echo chamber for all my tomorrows yet to get.
Shaken and forsaken, I awaken to the real myself,
Saying goodbye, good riddance, to my future self.
More'n nine months on...
and still I feel infuriated at myself
concerning squandered funds
passively, senselessly, and willingly
surrendered nest egg
to computer hackers
(imposters, jackknifing, and liquidating)
coercing me to forfeit funds,
whereby yours truly (me) blindsided
thru convincing telephonic dialogue
witnessing unquestioned trust
I unquestioningly, unerringly, and unblinkingly
carried out instructions
essentially cadging, depleting, and exhausting,
checking and savings accounts (mine)
courtesy convincing scheme
yoking naïveté (mine)
with FAKE conspiratorial claims
Citizens Bank tellers
linkedin as thieving magpies
(twittering bird brain analogy
hatched courtesy yours truly – me)
once ridiculous ruse beak came obvious,
I never ceased
maligning self as half cracked egghead
repeatedly replaying telephonic scenario
only this time
with home grown perspicacity triumphant
and fraudsters, marauders, and usurpers
harangued, interrogated, and jailed
critiqued, maligned, and whipped
courtesy just law of the land.
Clear as day,
I still recall the bloke
who chose one alias
(probably quite a few
in his bag of tricks)
videlicet Harvey Specter,
he coaxed at least one poor sucker
(the writer of these words)
to fork over his life savings
without yours truly batting an eye,
whose gullibility now legion
among the posse of scoundrels
sharing the ease with which
money plucked out figurative fingers
(like taking candy from a child)
diminishing paucity of integrity,
increasing perspicacity of acuity,
where wool will never
be pulled over my eyes
(ewe can bet my bottom dollar)
against being fleeced,
and now a heightened awareness
a wretched costly life lesson
inflicting a painful financial contusion
additionally severely wrecking, pummeling,
and bruising psyche suddenly woke
keenly alert to the bad to the bone
doggone wicked wily weasel ways
of unrepentant rapscallions.