Best Interrogate Poems


Premium Member But Why Oh Why, For We Sigh

confusional, yea
but why oh why, for we sigh
interrogate us
comprehend I simply can't
for closed doors, we now adore




.
Form: Tanka

Mutiny

Sifting through blood & marrow
Excavating remnants of my heart
Trying to piece together
The reason for my treason
Nervously sitting upon the judgment seat
Twiddling my guilt away
Beads of blood mix with perspiration 
As the adversary begins to interrogate
No amount of negotiation 
Can save me from my sins
No amount of apologies 
Can erase the pain I've inflicted
Upon so many innocent souls
Time soon reveals herself my enemy
Laying accusation before the jury
Needless sorrow floods the heart
Regret pierces sun dried skin
Cutting sharper than any blade can cut
Frustration finds itself within the constraints of my mind
Leaving me to wallow in mutiny
Before my wake.
© Skyy Allen  Create an image from this poem.

Consistency

"Consistency"
by:  Eric L. Boddie

Contemplate, debate hate
Rate state magistrates
Mate great fates
Wait....date late
Deflate straight weight
Emancipate inmate traits
Dissipate irate gates
Indicate!  Investigate!  Litigate!
Incarcerate?  Degradate?  Incinerate?
Rejuvenate!  Captivate!  Demonstrate!
Innovate!  Motivate!  Fascinate!
Anticipate!  Dedicate!  Articulate!
Communicate....congratulate....exonerate
Infiltrate....penetrate....interrogate
Implicate!  Detonate!  Annihilate!
Separate?  Segregate?  Disintegrate!
Form: Rhyme


Fear Not the Clause

FEAR NOT THE CLAUSE

There is no cause to fear the clause
It has no teeth, has no sharp claws
Though analysis may give you pause
Dissect it, then you’ll be the one to dictate

It has a subject, and predicate
But a usual function subordinate
It does neither state nor interrogate
It's a delegate with aid to dispense

It may have a pronoun and a verb with tense
And might be inclined to make a pretence
But while it may have a where or when sense
It’s not a true sentence; although  a key stone 

Lest it's the MAIN clause self determined, alone
A patrician of syntax up high on a throne
As a sentence support like a vertebra bone
Put in its right place could give words a revivali

So direct the clause, noun, adverb, adjectival
Do not be concerned, it won’t risk your survival
And make it act as your aide, genitival 
There is no cause to fear the clause
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Red Sun

I still follow
the blinking spells
of the rose wine sunsets
before surging sandstorms,
believing in the euphoric breeze
floating across the
shivering skyline,
echoing vermilion voices,
lost in the limestone grains,
as questions of change
interrogate the empathy
encrypted within
my inhibited intuition,
like spices of kismet flames,
swirling to the fluid fluency
of sentimental keys
in saxophone tunes…

But in the midst of moving monsoons,
I feel the eagle feathers of Zeus
rain upon the crystalline swing,
crooning songs of tameless time~
wrapped in the crescent cocoon
of silent splendor,
as I rise, dressed in steel and silver.

I hear the bluebird dream
in symphonies of the karmic sea,
streaming with specters
of star-struck ghosts…

O majestic marine jewel,
change is a promised ocean.
It’s sprouting coral blues
from reefs of ambergris embers,
awaiting floods of onyx tears
and jagged thistles,
like a tsunami of smeared streaks
reflecting the smoke
and swollen stains of the red sun.

Tonight, I erase the last mistake;
a scribbled imitation
of my aching past,
for I could not veil the scars,
failing to seize the
splitting clusters of
slate and garnets,
burning between
sleepless lakes,
drenched in midnight terrors,
as satanic waves
blur the turquoise surfing
through the limitless twilight.
Yet, I hear the mermaid moon
call my name in magical refrains,
steering my iridescent silhouette
to an ivory shore
where ebony hints of ink
would home the hermit castles,
where you and I can breathe~
as soulmates destined
to draw neon lifelines from
bioluminescent sparkles…

So let the bluebird drift into an orchid dream
where karma is the poet~
draped in deep violet,
writing elegies
to the eclipsed eyes of the red sun
that stole the silk and sage
of summer sighs…
And change is more than just a mere rhyme,
it is the ultimate essence
to rearrange
whimsical words
woven within wind
from honey and gold
of a
dulcet
dawn.

The Crime

Was the murderers jacket bloodstained ?
Was he caught at the scene and detained ?
There’s a story here to be told
The truth and evidence retained.
The Police are on the threshold

Interrogate him with his Legal
The evidence is quiet dismal
He’s talking but its redirection
His motive appears to be fiscal
But he’s claiming its one of affection

It’s all sounding really quiet frivolous
For the detective it’s all very piteous
Failing is not the planned conception
The case is slipping, it’s against us
What we need now is confession
Form: Rhyme


Letter Written In Fetters - 6

Dear son,
              Thanks for being patient with me
              Though I feel that I am ignored
              As being too antiquated and irrelevant to your life
              Why would I interrogate Pinocchio?
              It is hopeless to find anything in me to salvage
              My last stroke of genius
              Was getting my bid to father you accepted.
              I am just so frustrated
              How could everything I said or did just went over your head
              If you look like me and walk and talk like me
              Why can't you understand like me?
              O forgive me, I have been too silent these years
              To adopt the discourse of noise effectively now
              Would it matter if I say I ws protecting you from bias and from tears
              When a father has nothing left, he still feels he must protect his love ones
              He still worry that the minotaur may harm one more child.
              I know the pain of that lost
              It haunts me deeply since your brother died; it changed me
              I use to be just vulnerable and afraid of risk, now I am impotent.
              My only weapon left is prayer, but it makes me uncomfortable
              To think of an argument with God as a weapon.
             
              This letter you ask, what is its purpose
              Why can't two grown men meet and talk?
              Meet? You have no time for me, I do not wear mascara
              I cannot provoke your hormones to rebel against your judgment
              I suddenly realize every conversation needs a drop of love to begin it.
              I am neither judging your feelings nor confessing mine
              You see, dear son, feelings for you is discontent of emotion
              Love for me is a self so given it is nothing but sacrifice
              This time the son has carved the father
              Out of his image
              And whittled him until the wood cries for joy.
              Any which way I look at it
              A knife in the hand is indicative of sacrifice
              And redemption is a long way to the death of God.

Thieves

Data theft on social media
Thief caught, confesses, apologises
Authorities pose questions, listen to answers
Q & A session ends, warned, asked to tighten lapses
Thief walks free like a king 

Theft in a social function
Thief caught, confesses, apologises
Authorities interrogate, pin him down with crime
Remand ends, cuffed, send him to jail 
Thief walks to prison cell like a criminal

High end thief is no thief
He is "framed and trapped" by others 
Bottom end thief is real thief
He is "pushed and punished" by own hunger 
One roams free, other groans in cell

Karma's Revenge

Walking down an alley with a short skirt and low self esteem, 
Never knowing what strange perve she will soon meet, 
Winter is vicious and it's so cold out tonight, 
If only some kind of shelter she can find, 
She comes across a barrel burning surrounded by a crowd, 
But when she tries to approach is only men gathered around, 
She say's "Hi Karma is my name", 
But noone says a thing 
Sharing a bottle between the four, 
Noone is really speaking a word, 
Hands over the fire all trying to stay warm, 
Exhausted, she curls on up and falls asleep, 
Hours pass or so it seems, 
She wakes up in pain and starts to scream, 
All four men just taking turns, 
Cuts from the bottle, the wounds they burn 
To weak to fight, She Just prays, 
Eventually they all go away, 
She finds herself in the hospital, 
Feeling ashamed and pitiful, 
Detectives there to interrogate, 
But she claims she don't remember a thing, 
As she's left alone in the hospital bed, 
She steals the drugs and a couple needles, 
A few hours later the hospital released her, 
She puts on a devilish disguise, 
Approached the men asking "wanna get high" 
Of course the junkies all say "Yeah!!", 
So she passes around the poison filled seringe, 
As one by one they all drop dead, 
Suddenly she's happy and can breathe once again, 
Knowing it's over and that's Karma's revenge!
Form: ABC

Speedaki

Interrogate the trim lady,

this shocked me as I left crazy,

dogged daily-

went to the railings;

as hailingz came dazzling as your whalingz...


Oh master of failing,

let them start scaling,

please let them see me tonight,
in caretakers chemical jailings-

swimming, as I am so finally-

finally starts spiraling-

as if it were with Witz and my warrior who cats,

she dines with disaster LIVE like we showed leaves to shine,

no matter what lived, 
we took apart...

Holy design?

As I am designated?

Holy dynamic?

Am I a cry for the fires to let them align?

The great preacher of time.

Premium Member Tribute To Carolyn

she had a gift, a gleam
        her poetry that scanned like autobiography 
measured verses that re-made her life
                                        reborn
in experiences with a fuchsia sheen
a lamp that sometimes shifted in its blue light
                     sometimes to quilted hues

her day to day hopes of recovery
       when survival was everything
a wish, communal, that everything would turn out alright
but something cellular, inside, worked against her

sometimes death evades comprehension 
                      we can't interrogate it
but the camera swings away till it finds her words
                       that are a testimony of someone
                       shimmering

a poet who flourished in our world
                     because of what we all share
a life that's not small
                     it lingers
                     in words
                     that matter, that stand
                     and bring you to a standstill
                     s t i I l

Interrogation-Torture

His name was Brett,
and sitting me in his hot seat
I felt a little anxious,
as I writhed and wiggled,
wanting to escape,
all the while trying
not to hyperventilate...
He proceeded to interrogate me
with a bright light in my face,
asking me all kinds of questions,
for his case..
I knew he was going to use
some tools from his trade,
so I just sat there cool like,
trying not to be afraid,
Then he picked and prodded at me
and got me all ruffled,
and my answers would only come out
all slurred and muffled,
He then gave me 2 shots
which didn't help the interrogation,
because I just ended up being numb
to the situation,
But the intense drilling kept on
and I tried to keep cool,
I wouldn't break that easily
that was my golden rule,
Then he went so far as to squirt water
at my gaping face, 
and I quickly swallowed it up,
my mouth feeling like a  
cottonmouth snake,
Before I knew it
the interrogation and torture
session was done,
and even though it was agony,
and I felt like a zombie,
thought at least I survived
and like some victory I had won...
As I stood up wobbly, ready to go,
Brett turns and escorts me out the door,
and says in his southern drawl,
"Now that wasn't so bad,
you seem to have a 
high threshold for pain,
heres a new toothbrush
and I'll see you again!"

Hurricane Harvey Landfall August 27th 2017

This long time doodling Yankee 
(who calls Southeastern Montgomery, Pennsylvania LV
plus III four seasons visited 
   upon swath of topography to see
and hear flora and fauna over run 
   via industrialization he doth experience pity
sympathy, humanity deafening cacophony undermining 
   once abundant bounty, which mutiny 
upon bounty outwits mother nature in this REAL LIFE “GAME” of jeopardy 
where survival of the fattest dominates avast geography

thence a tempest in a global teapot doth brew
which phenomena Gaia foments, inducing meteorologists due
tee fully issuing catastrophic fallout asper category 5 carved foo
tang clan along Gulf Coast 
   reserving special vengeance (alas domino effect) 
   for oil derricks hue mans insatiably drill into 
   ever more difficult to access reservoirs sans fossil fuels, but Jew
blintz echoes across watery expanse when excavator loo
king for liquid gold hit a mother lode (or off shoot) exciting new
man hick pumps furiously fracking gnome hatter 
   watching grim faced absent magic spells such as phew 
fi foe...aghast at the rapacious, pernicious, malicious....rue
th less ness heaped upon Planet Earth, 
   where tipping point 
   re: specifically *****Sapiens over population will true

lee interrogate meteorological altercations, conflagrations, and
exterminations of multitudinous botanical & animal genus or species 
   as wrath of monster storms akin to a oceanic brigand
wreaking loss of life and limb, additionally bringing destruction 
as megadeath metal lick ha - monstrous maelstrom 
   mercilessly muscles itself when making land
fall, where record rainfall submerges once smug Texans man
dated to evacuate far from the pan
demon harum-scarum as retribution for incessant lambasting wan
ton ness exploiting terrestrial resources selfishly will eventually ban
hush the dominant primate requisitioned to become extinct – anon.
Form: Imagism

In Quest of Love

I slide along the edge of the stream,
Crossing the narrow road leading to it,
Search in the depth of the fussed ocean,
To find the portion reserved for me.

I wander throughout the space,
Tracking the silvery, sparkled stars;
Conspicuously, I've been so exhausted,
My naive heart chose not to surrender!

I interrogate the reflective could,
It points me to the house of obscurity,
I hasten to go to the peaceful spot,
There was not even the shadow of it!

I had even walked out of boundaries,
To know whether which direction it took,
I crapped out an fell on the wrong road.
I, however, was hopeful and undismayed!

Lastly, a quiescent mind appealing me,
Thus, my heart plunges under the ocean,
To strike out the accuracy of the true love,
Meanwhile, I still hope that it will discern it!

Loneliness Lesson of Life!

Life meant family and friends group
Selfless love and care flowed truth
Making all cheerful is all my heart knew
Till I was taken out of “My” crew.

Primed such a different appeal
Still somewhere heart finds and feels
But its’ just the own shadow
Again I creep…cry deep….. creep

Holding my hands with assurance
Slowly I relied upon with all faith
Never asked questions to validate
Now it pains deep within….loving hate!

The presence of so many around
Each day, each second trying a way out
Register a gleaming face as years before
Can’t help …heart seeking lively death

Soul is crawling some distances far-off
Days and nights brightened to be dark
Isolation only among the traversed path
Could no longer feel the deepest of love

Sitting numb among a group having fun
Failed even the strongest beam of Sun
To sensitize me to any happiness or pain 
Lying alone with my shouting silent mate

Careless whisper knocks the door to initiate
Loneliness knows not to interrogate
As it struck silent that very bright day
When trust failed …..Love line decayed

Do not endeavour to lead me anymore
I am glad as I know not to differentiate
Even feelings have played hide and seek
Dark shadow betrayed ….all in bleak…I creep

No lessons or any instructions to follow
 My companion well versed with sorrow
Just a sole wish to meet my “Other Self”
As that will lead to a brighter tomorrow…

Eyes staring isolation –an invisible Chief
Again I creep…sigh deep….. No sleep
My friend! Will not abandon and deceive 
Will not gift what I received 
A falsely true relationship …..
So many heart beats….yet loneliness speaks!

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