Best Harshly Poems
We learn
right from wrong by
the zenith of our youth
but do we learn moral lessons
in the exact way, and
do some learn them
at all?
We show
distaste toward
those whose definitions
of morality might very
well differ from what we
figure to be
correct.
We need
to look beyond
our own realities.
There are children who lack guidance
and some who know only
cruel stings of
abuse.
There are
children who lack
even basic values,
for they witness horrendous acts,
yet harshly we would judge
those kids when they
go bad.
Children
of the streets and
some in the ghettos too;
also priviledged ones who have
no one to look up to -
wild and crazy
they run.
Wicked
they seem. We judge
them by our own standards
of right and wrong. What can be done?
Can we not all agree
at least on one
good rule?
Golden
is the rule which
we must teach today’s youth.
Until we ensure all children
feel love and protected,
society
will fail.
June 1, 2021
NA in the Heptastich Poetry Contest
For the 'ALL YOURS (Jun 25)' Poetry Contest of Brian Strand
Categories:
harshly, judgement,
Form:
Verse
I can offer you sympathy,
try to feel you through empathy.
But if you take it for granted,
silence will be your remedy.
Remember the seeds you planted,
when unnourished will bloom slanted.
Hearts yearn for balanced devotion,
like birds sharing what they chanted.
When there is too much commotion,
tears seem to fall in slow motion.
Will you give my soul an embrace,
try to sense its deep emotion?
Ego only portrays disgrace.
Some actions are hard to replace.
Judgement is harshly negative.
Selflessness should be your showcase.
When the conscience seems tentative,
your heartbeats become expletive.
But if you've helped quench someone's thirst,
the thoughtful become sensitive.
Before the heart and soul immerse,
the eyes observe compassion first.
Awareness brings sweet harmony.
A purpose that should be well versed.
Categories:
harshly, perspective,
Form:
Rubaiyat
Oh, how I long, day full of snow
When dawns in gelid breezes moan
And nights anguish in frozen glow,
Now that autumn has left its throne.
As dull and decay shroud meadow,
Oh, how I long, day full of snow,
To soothe malaise of dreary woe
Where blizzards frosty harshly blow.
On barren landscapes caught in throe
Trapped in demise of autumn's reign,
Oh, how I long, day full of snow
Gleaming hopes of dimming terrain.
When storms from north exact a toll
Where rivers freeze, struggle to flow,
And lifeless shivers gloomy knoll;
Oh, how I long, day full of snow.
Categories:
harshly, autumn, snow, winter,
Form:
Quatern
Take me beat me and mold me
I am yours to do with what you wish
No matter what you do with me
I am still considered quite a dish.
I can modify your hardness
I can let you know when to boil
I can conduct a heat in you
And I will never let you spoil.
I don’t react harshly, if you get me moist and wet
You’ll still love me in the morning, on that I think I’ll bet
I will still be malleable, no matter what you do
You can beat me to transparency, and yes you see right through.
I am a bright yellow colour, with a lustre some would die for
Keeping me in good condition, would never become a chore
If you really wanted to, you can put me in your mouth
I can even adorn your body parts, North, West, East and South…
I don’t react to an acid tongue, except those that are vitriolic
But you can dissolve me with the acid, called nitro hydrochloric.
You can pour me when I’m so very hot too hot for you to play
Then you can finger me when I am cool, and play with me all day
You can eat off me, or with me, the choice will be yours
They say I came from outer space, in fact in meteors
But one thing I will say I don’t wear out or lose my lustre, it is told
So if you pick me up treat me well, I am you little nugget of gold.
© 14/12/2012
Categories:
harshly, education, me,
Form:
Quatrain
Like the pompous pied piper leading the way,
chirping his tune of a dawning new day,
frustrations were championed, oh how we followed,
the ego stuffed shirt of a suit cold and hollow.
From the top of the hill, he showed us the view,
convincing our eyes it was harshly askew.
Nearing the cliffs as if caught in a spell,
he fed us like lambs from his poisonous well.
Touting sweet taste of his truth well embittered,
ignoring the signs of nonsensical twitter,
rot with the smell of the nations decay,
we drank from his cup of a water so gray.
Watching and waiting for gifts of his gruel,
the masses assured we were not made a fool,
his promise of greatness was all we could see,
with great expectations of how it would be.
There's no turning back once we swore the man in,
believing bright futures were soon to begin,
blinding frustration gave evil its day
for the pompous pied piper to lead us astray.
He led us to thinking, all driven by fear,
then gave his directives so cryptically clear,
stripping the values by which we would stand
before the American dream had been banned.
Addicted to all the attention and glory,
swiftly he moved to remain the top story,
insisting on walls made of concrete and steel
built by the anger and hate we should feel.
Then some were shaken, disrupting his spell
and found he was stealing our Liberty Bell.
The fog began lifting and soon we would see
the piper exposed as the fraud he would be.
Time has a way, proven over again,
of playing its imminent part.
The shedding of light upon every mans soul,
exposing his darkness of heart.
No longer seduced by the piping we hear,
choosing to see through the veil,
Democracy once again fights to survive,
let us all pray we prevail!
-Jeannie Cronin
Categories:
harshly, america, change, corruption, death,
Form:
Rhyme
A mile in her shoes
You look at her and wonder
and simply do not at all understand
You would think she would leave him
Before things really get out of hand.
She thinks we don’t notice
The days she shows up newly bruised
Some of us look down on her at times
Because she allows herself to be abused.
I cannot look down upon her
Because I have walked in her shoes
You cannot know the pain she has
Or her shame she has for being used
She has children she must think of
And bills that need to be paid
Food for the table to be purchased
There are so many reasons she’s stayed
Her dreams and life have shattered
And hope died so long ago
Love has a different meaning to her
Something most of us will never know
So do not harshly judge her
She is aware of your opinions and views
And you should never ever judge her
Unless you have walked a mile in her shoes
Categories:
harshly, judgement, pain,
Form:
Rhyme
When farthest fields of tall
grasses are dry and harshly mown.
Then, wildflowers to the wind fall
where beauty had once shown.
Wren and robin in mourning call
with songs of somber tone.
Men who are proud at nightfall,
laugh in haughty baritone.
Penning truths, poets wrap shawls
over spirits who moan.
Again, through the season’s squall,
a poet cries alone.
Glen of glowing words comfort all
on path from birth to stone.
Written 6/30/20
Contest - Triple Rhyme
Sponsor - Beth Evans
Categories:
harshly, grief, nature, poets, words,
Form:
Rhyme
#2 Rumi Quote:
If you are irritated by every rub,
How will your mirror be polished?
________________________________________
Be not perturbed when life presents hurdles,
Nothing worthwhile comes sans struggle;
Do not tag every challenge unjust or unfair,
Blemish on your mirror, not a reason to despair.
Read not a rub, always, as a rub of critique,
If it’s uninformed, there isn’t much to heed;
Stay the course, amity speaks for your deeds,
Judge not harshly when repentance pleads.
Endeavor mindfully, to learn from mistakes,
Sow in every failure, seeds of sweet success,
Find your happiness on other side of regrets,
Be not irritated by life’s every give-and-take.
Reject ego and pride; introspect, reflect,
Mend your ways, adapt to realms of change,
Look in the mirror, measure your progress:
Is your today, better than your yesterday?
Categories:
harshly, life, meaningful,
Form:
Verse
In this wild sea I grab the flotsam,
harshly heaved,
waves so high
that up is down and my arms fatigued.
So free
At last unfettered
And the only woe I have is:
Will my arms hold?
Will this board stay in one piece?
Will I finally immerse, drown, go down?
The night above, constellation in consternation,
in gloomy twilight dark as icy sea below.
Their light a callous last reminder.
Cold-bloodedly cruel
Once was a time
I prayed that love would salvage me,
that sea and beach
would only be there
for me to harvest shells
and sing my love in sandy painted words.
The moon a beaming mouth
of merciful compassion,
a little boat too far to reach
but comforting, lulling me to
sleep so deep, so deep.
***
April 29, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Categories:
harshly, analogy, anxiety, depression, nature,
Form:
Free verse
From my breaking point, i try to reframe
All my thoughts seem to sway
My heart hates what my mind became
Every emotion in my body, i try to tame
my mind says go, my heart says stay
from my breaking point, i try to reframe
For my mistakes, i take the blame
maybe we'll be again some day
my heart hates what my mind became
I smile just to hide my shame
For my wrongs to you, I will pay
from my breaking point, i try to reframe
I feel crooked with no aim
alone again, tonight I'll lay
my heart hates what my mind became
Now harshly we play in loves game
Disappearing fast like snow in may
From my breaking point, i try to reframe
My heart hates what my mind became
Categories:
harshly, lost loveheart, heart,
Form:
Villanelle
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘’’’’’’
Angular hips now more round than grapes
grieving a little for new voice whispered,
swells of flesh curved in plumper shapes
while the flow of monthly arrival lingered
Almond eyes grew sultry deepening hue
baby powder blending into lavender spray
this crossover of rebellion I harshly knew,
awkwardly choosing between truth or dare-play.
Then, nights gazed at sandals of childhood seas
toes raking, confused about dissent down path;
a ruffled star finding myself sliced by cold trees
as Mom screeched at moody blues ready to hatch
My mind felt strange; Dad became a fading hero
questioning him with glares longer than steam,
rude awakenings cracked fears, tears stuck at zero
with ripening bosoms; this turning point at thirteen
Struggling for identity bloomed in freshman year
when tresses climbed on stairs of clumsy romance
beguiled by some hunger in my bones, a blushed cheer;
exalting the senses, a lady-in-waiting for her first dance.
©
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
For Frank Herrera: Coming of Age
By nette onclaud
Categories:
harshly, introspection, teen,
Form:
Rhyme
Some things I thought would never change -
it would always be "us three",
I try so hard to understand
why that wasn't meant to be.
The smiles, fun, and laughter;
the jokes we'd throw around,
Are now but distant memories
planted in the ground.
Only unlike seeds they do not wait
come spring to sprout anew,
They're trying to hide in the depths of my mind;
this year no flowers grew.
I had thought it would be like a rubber ball
and bounce right back to my grasp,
Yet I never had known that this friendship of ours
was made of fragile glass.
So when it came crashing down that day last month,
I almost didn't care,
For my perfect life had that perfect ball
that wouldn't need repair.
But the glass it cracked so harshly,
flinging pieces once so strong,
Could these sharp and hurtful shards
have been here all along?
I'm trying not to blame you,
but blame you I just might,
My pride is stubbornly in the way;
if I'm wrong I still am right.
For fairness we'll say we were both at fault,
clearly misunderstood,
And it could've ended there with a sorry that said
"I tried the best I could".
But the hurt took residence within you
until it overcame your heart
As the best friends since first grade
began to drift apart
I tried! I visited!
I texted! I called!
Only to receive unfriendly coldness
in the face of it all.
Not once did I text back a rude response
though I, too, ached with hurt
I forced on fake friendliness
while your remained curt.
Why didn't you inquire
about things on my end?
One who takes, but not gives,
do you call that a true friend?
Now instead of "us three",
I'm left with "us two"
But what's sadder than that
Is that you're left with...you.
You got lost there, in the place that whispered
"all is being lost",
But avoiding me just didn't work-
our paths were bound to cross.
So as we try our best to reconnect;
change craziness to sane,
I just want to say I'm sorry
for all the hurt and pain.
So the smile now, it's real today-
I'm not angry or upset,
But no glue in the world can fix up this crack
for I simply cannot forget.
Categories:
harshly, best friend, betrayal, friendship,
Form:
Couplet
There is an ache, a hurt that makes no list.
Its name isn’t cancer or heart, but loneliness.
Its victims are usually old, but may be young.
They wait for a call or visit that doesn’t come.
The elderly may sense that having been used
It is time for them to be aloofly excused.
They labored for others they hardly knew
Only to be discarded with lives near through.
Chances are there’s a widow on your block
Who stares out a window at an empty walk.
A wave from a passerby would light her face
And restore fading faith in the human race.
Why do we make time for trifles of naught,
Isn’t there someone whom we have forgot?
Abandon for moments life’s wearying ways,
And show love to the lonely all of your days.
Discordant voices will promptly claim doubt.
“It’s a new day!” they will harshly cry out.
But the truth of the matter is this reality:
To live life richly requires a loving mentality.
Categories:
harshly, loneliness, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Gone is the scared, insecure girl inside
Judging herself harshly. She's now free
Of self-loathing. Look at her now; all woman...
Wearing a brand new attitude!
Broken pieces of herself glued together;
Virtues and vices, she accepts fully.
Poem of the week on 08/29/2021
Submitted for...
Your Favorite August 2021 Poem- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Date: 08/31/2021
Bite-Size Poem no.18 Poetry Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Date written: 08/26/2021
Categories:
harshly, appreciation, confidence, growth, woman,
Form:
Verse
Dusk fell rapidly. Three women dressed in black
With their young lanky companion hurried back
To their rather small impoverished dark room.
Only an oil lamp that added to their gloom.
Silence reigned except for the youngest maiden
Sobbing, though all were with heavy heart laden.
The elder sat on a bed, shedding no tears
That man buried was in reality hers.
O what a cruel world, how her son suffered!
How many times he was so harshly buffered?
Religious leaders had him sentenced to death.
So crucified was he until his last breath.
Generous of Joseph to give him a tomb.
Brave Nicodemus but with a face of doom,
Provided fresh linen and bought perfumed spice.
There they buried the young man from Paradise.
Still in the darkness the elder woman sat,
No one dared engage her in frivolous chat.
No one knew the pain in her much wounded breast,
It had began with his treacherous arrest.
Still the worst was yet to come when with a lance
Checking his death, the Roman saw in a glance.
That's when she felt the cruel lance pierce her heart,
The young man quickly held her seeing her start.
Now on her hard bed she quietly pondered
My God Father, what will happen, she wondered.
She then knew her mission as God had decreed.
On the third day Her dearest Son would be freed.
Categories:
harshly, inspirational,
Form:
Couplet