Best Jeer Poems
The Power of One
Slowly shadows devour the day’s light,
The silhouette of fear draws breath
From the soul left gasping,
A firestorm of fury gathering,
Like mists of plagues escaping
From an ancient land of sand and tombs
With locusts warning of hope’s starvation
To escort the darkness rising
Turning pleas into ashes – weeping into stone -
Pounding on the mountainsides where sweetest spice
Withers beneath lullabies
Robbed of serenity’s grace -
Flowing furious on fevered winds
Pushing reveries and faith out on a ledge -
Not knowing right from left
Or up from down -
No words of clarity in
In the whirlwind’s barren chrysalis,
To hem in - to constrain -
With invisible shrilling waves of crisis
Whipped up by anguish
That binds the wildly beating, frantic heart,
Like a captured sparrow;
To scoff, to jeer, to overlook,
The single bloom standing up,
Trembling like new leaves on thinnest branches,
Scanning galaxies of prophetic possibility,
Then lean on visionary stars
That shatter with the speed of light
The hovering shadow of inertia’s darkest enchantment,
Sending out the solitary song of meadowlarks,
Still caroling through deafness, not silenced,
Not bending to the ill winds moaning
And the chaos screaming,
To scatter seeds of spring not born
Like unseen winged flyers;
To see beyond and past descending doom,
Into that far and sheltered arbor
With dreams of wisdom and young visions -
Outside the grasp of calamity,
Beyond the dark horizon -
Enticing with an alluring fragrance gather back
Into the benediction of the ever circling eternal seasons
Promising….
As cold winds blow this time of year,
the limbs are bare, the winter’s here;
a frigid frost hangs in the air.
With season’s change we’re well aware
that endless nights will soon appear.
We wrap ourselves to hide the fear
brought on by darkness ever near,
and hibernate within our lair…
as cold winds blow.
We dream of azure skies so clear;
the summer sun we so revere;
alas, ‘tis gone this weather fair.
We curse the darkness with a swear…
despising winter that we jeer…
as cold winds blow.
December 2, 2019
When gay meant happy and kwier meant odd
You didn't swear in public, right in front of God
You wore a suit to the World Series, a hat to work
If your team won, you didn't loot or go berserk
You cheered the President, shook hands with him too
You'd never think to avoid him, to jeer or to boo
When the Nation's Anthem played, you covered your heart
You sang along proudly, every word from the start
Now the nation's fabric is rent, we're so polarized
And what with the murder and mayhem ~ desensitized
Come by the Sword, Die by the Sword
They stood in ranks a thousand long
High upon the hill
The Roman legion, fierce and strong
With sword and lance and bill
The Briton hoards below them stare
With wild fanatic eyes
They jeer the foe and beg them dare
With anger and despise
Come and fight you cowardly foe
Come and meet your fate
We’ll cut you down, row by row
Send you to heavens gate
With scoff and scorn the Romans yawn
What empty threats you speak
We’ll rip you limb from limb this morn
You’re scrawny, thin and weak
Down below, laughter roars
Your bellies, we will slice
We’ll lay you dead, in your scores
Come prove your men not mice
We will arrive and make you pay
For indolence and taunt
You will eat every word you say
When they come back to haunt
It’s easy up on high to gloat
But everybody knows
It’s our intent to cut each throat
And leave you for the crows
But when we make our move towards
There’ll be no shy nor rests
We’ll plunge our sharp and bloody swords
Deep in those ragbag chests
Think of your girlfriends, mothers, wives
For them there’ll be no gains
Will be, as we, cut short their lives
When we spill out your brains
For one last time you’ll see the sky
Cause you’re not leaving whole
When heathen head is raised up high
On legion victory pole
Gasp deep upon your final breath
Invader of our land
Your destiny this day is death
By rude and brutish hand
With sword and lance and bill
All break into their stride
With voices booming still
Blood fills the wide divide
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March forward to today
Though forces re-arranged
And ask them in what way
Anything has changed
GOD,some laugh,some jeer,
But I know YOU are always near,
I walk this road called life,without fear,
Looking around does anyone really care,
Every love has it's share of hate,
Every weakness has a tot of faith,
Some will do anything to win,
Hurting others while they grin,
Be wise check yourself from deep within,
You can be victorious without a sin,
Hold GOD hands through thick and thin,
And your VICTORY will be EVERLASTING,,,,,,
I don’t believe there is such a thing as a mirror,
Because this so called reflection is not really me.
I think he is a stranger that moved into my house,
For the man that I see is somewhat, ugly.
I think he built this life size window
To spy on everything that I do
And I can tell you he is beginning pissing me off
I can feel my anger’s starting to brew
Once I moved to the side of the window
And he disappeared out of sight
What I could see a part of his room
Gave me an terrible fright
The bugger’s been to the same shop
And bought the same things I have
The bed, cupboards and lamp shades
And on the table he even has the same Sat. Nav.
I peeped into this window
With the hope to catch him off guard
But there he was looking at me
Staring just as hard
I stood in front of the loser and cussed the most colourful words
The monkey aped every action even the moving of his lips
Then it dawned on me that he wore the same clothes
In the same pose with his hands on his hips
So infuriated, I punched the window
And ended his years of peeping tom jeer
However, the bugger is now haunting me
In every glass I happen to peer
blue jay
jealous jester
your jabberwocky sounds
jettisoned across the grove through
jack pine now rebound, jack hammering the
warning “junco, fly away! This,”
you jeer, “is my feeder!”
unjust you are
blue jay
Forgive me when I fail to see
how much You love and care for me.
Remind me, Lord, to call Your name
Your precious promises to claim.
When I’m too wrapped up in my life,
I fail to think of others’ strife.
Remind me, Lord, that others weep.
Your Word commands I feed Your sheep.
When I can't hear Your quiet voice,
that distance isn't by your choice.
You'd not desert Your child, I know.
Revive me when my spirit's low.
When I obsess and fears run wild,
remind me that I am Your child.
I'm free to give those fears to You.
Allay them, please, and peace renew.
For every day I fail to say,
"I thank You, God, for each sun's ray,"
Forgive me and remind me, please,
to spend more time upon my knees.
When long-past failures tease and taunt
and old transgressions jeer and haunt,
assure me you forgave me then
when I repented of each sin.
Remind me that Your ways are right,
and in them help me to delight.
Forgive me, Father, when I stray.
Direct me when I lose my way.
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The greatest gift, salvation sweet,
though undeserved, is ours. We’ll meet
the Father and His precious Son
in Heaven when our race is run.
POSTED December 27, 2017
Date: February 26, 2018
Contest Title: Favorite Rhyming Poem Ever
Sponsor: Laura Loo
entered in James Edward Lee Sr's Just Us Together Again Praising God Contest
November 6, 2018, entered in Julia Ward's Your Favourite Poem from
December 2017 Contest
Since joining just yesterday,
I have not had much to say,
As I sit here idle,
Waiting for a title,
I watch as you pass my way,
I am honored to be here,
While a select few may jeer,
Mostly I can see hope,
From the end of my rope,
Bringing about a joyous tear,
For all poets who have been called,
Disenchanted or enthralled,
Our mission always true,
We inform and move you,
To make you act or make you halt,
To rise above and expound the truth,
Or to lose ourselves in a groove,
Whether blatent or far out,
We live to learn - live to shout,
About love, laughter or the blues,
For although I may be new,
To this small poetic group,
I see what you've built,
With talent and skill,
Namely this Poetry Soup,
Written with admiration for Tom Cunningham ~ a gentle poet
maligned by one who really casts an aura of darkness
My smile is genuine and reaches to my eyes.
I do not wear a mask, nor a cloak of disguise
and I post poetry in my given Christian name.
From the hand of one it was written in a claim
that I cast shadows of dark energy around me.
Should I assume that I'm thought of as beastly?
Someone thinks that my spirit has gone awry.
I have to shake my head in disbelief as I decry,
"If you liken me to a sinister, malevolent being
I would ask what movies have you been seeing?"
Call me rude names if that makes you feel witty,
but each shines a gleaming light on your lubricity.
I'm not insulted by the sticks and stones thrown,
nor do I write anything that I would ever bemoan.
I will champion myself, my friends and my nation,
never seeking battle, nor in fear of confrontation.
I am not a troll, a gang member, or wolf in a pack,
so don't falsely accuse me. I won't take your flack.
There is no darkness surrounding my aura, I'm sure.
It may be that your malicious thoughts are impure.
You struggle with defining what's right from wrong.
Is there anyone with whom you can get along?
Friendships are important and you would be wise
to recall that poets should be a coalition of allies.
You're entitled to your opinions, and I am to mine,
but if they are different, don't moo like a bovine.
"Spiteful words," you said, my friends and I write.
Well, in this case I'll say you're absolutely right.
I've been told that rebuttals are a waste of my ink
but not a drop is wasted if it makes people think.
Think of the insult to a poet belittled by another.
One who treats everyone as a sister and brother.
Tom wrote of the bloodbath Putin draws in Ukraine
then selfish comments were made that left a stain
on his words that were written to ring out in truth.
Don't sling mud on other poet's by throwing a stone.
Give voice to your beliefs. Write one of your own.
And now, you're thinking, "You just slung mud."
Yes, I did, in hopes that it will land with a thud.
I don't relish penning negative lines of contention,
but sometimes things are in need of attention.
I'd rather write about Santa and Christmas cheer,
than calling out snide people who taunt and jeer.
A gut full of grease is a glutton for greed
A swirling cesspool of sinful man's seed
These men of corruption, a pitiful breed
They trust their own hearts, which deceives them indeed
Prey for the fallen and wicked to feed
Who whisper with promise to fill man's each need
They scoff at God's promise, those depraved will not heed
They mock every word in God's Book when they read
Rejecters of Truth, in which mankind is preed
They have no fear of Christ, Who shall judge every deed
He Who gives man the breath for his life to proceed
He alone, in strict justice, shall perfectly meed
He Who casts into hell, by His Word, whence decreed
He Whose anger, and fury, and wrath shall exceed
All the strength of His creatures, who must there ever dreed
He Who mocks, in derision, all the damned as they plead
He Who laughs as they weep and they wail to be freed
He Who kindles the fire that shall burn every weed
Reprobate beings shall become as a glede
The bread of the leaven He shall thoroughly knead
He Who bled as they jeered shall then jeer as they bleed
When He smites with His iron they'll remember the reed
They'll remember His cup, that accursed Ganymede
He forsaken of God that the veil should be screed
He Who endured that redemption succeed
He Who for sinners was made sin, to accede
For sin, and the Devil, and death to impede
The powers of darkness were forced to recede
As did that legion of swine once stampede
When Jesus returns riding 'pon a white steed
Armies of angels and saints shall He lead
Open your ears and your eyes and take heed
Do not let your heart be a stone when you read
The Word became flesh, as the God-Head decreed
Son of God, Son of man, incorruptible Seed
A Savior for every sinner in need
Son of man, in the flesh, come to weep and to bleed
Son of God, Bread from heaven, to heal and to feed
Christ Jesus, the Son, that He might intercede
To reconcile God with the chosen to be freed
He Who the Son frees shall be free indeed
This was originally a poem by my little brother David Breidenthal. You can search it and find that my song version is a little bit similar to his poem. Enjoy!
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I have no capability
to cry for help
I have no energy
to save myself
Can you hear the silence
of my sad prayer?
Daddy says You’re mad at me
Are You even there?
Drenched in silence…drenched in silence
Can You hear me? Will You save me
From him?
Why do You stare at me
From high above?
Why do You laugh and jeer at me
Where is the love?
Oh, I know You hear me
Feel my despair
All the others are happy
God, it isn’t fair…
Drenched in silence…drenched in silence…
Can You hear me? Will You save me?
Ahhh….ahhh…..ahhh
Something tells me
Something tells me
You hurt no one…no one
Something tells me
Something screams to me
You hurt no one
Not him, nor her, nor He…
Just me…
Drenched in silence…drenched in silence…
I have no capability
To cry for help
I have no confidence
To find you myself
I will never believe
What he said
No one laid a hand on you
You are not dead, just—
Drenched in silence…drenched in silence
Can you hear me? Will you save me?
Can you here me? Do you fear me?
Daddy says You’re mad at me
Daddy pulls my hair
Daddy says I’m bad to You
Daddy says You’re there
Can you hear me?
Daddy says You’re mad at me
Daddy says beware
Daddy says I’m bad to you
Daddy wants me bear
Daddy says You’re mad at me
Daddy pulls my hair
Daddy says You’ll forgive me
But I don’t think you care
Drenched in silence…drenched in silence…
Can You hear me? Will you save me? (from him)
Can You hear me? Can You hear me?
Can’t You hear me? Can’t You hear me?
Can You hear me? Hear me, hear me
Hear me, hear me
Hear me, hear me
Hear me…hear me
For those that have walked in my shoes
for those that jeer, shout abusive boos,
judge me, vent anger, throw the first stone
all I have done is loved, sympathy shown,
for those that have committed no sin or harm
for those that want peace, willing to disarm,
judge me, take me to task, prove me guilty
all that will be found is goodness still in me,
for those that feel hatred due to my actions
for those that want to provoke bad reactions,
will never judge me, only those without sin
those with love in their hearts, let trials begin,
for those that love to hate and mercy refuse
walk a few miles in my well worn shoes.
12/03/2017
for contest judgemental people and haters,
sponsored by Brenda Chiri.
Beer Head
Can't drive my brain into gear
my thinking right now is not truly clear,
a headache may come is what I do fear
I should not of drank all that beer.
My body and eyes all a blear
to many I drank to toast a cheer,
clinking my booze to whoever was near
to each and everyone - an equal peer.
Dance moves controlled by my beer puppeteer,
my feet stomps the floor like a ready charged deer,
shout singing the songs - not a cool look they sneer,
wrong words song sung sang, heard in the jeer.
My voice is hoarse an a ringing left ear
only to realise in my right I cannot hear,
panic sets in falling awkwardly on my rear
only to flatten my new expensive headgear.
Broken remains took me to save for a year,
self-pity pours in - I even shed a tear,
sober I stay and will do adhere
if not, beer just may ruin my career.
31.08.20
There's been a breaking news report about Santa's reindeer.
While flying over Russia, they were lassoed by vile Vladimir!
"I'm determined to ruin Christmas for everyone this year.
Too many smiling faces in the world," he said with a sneer.
An envelope arrived at the Kremlin. Postage was first class.
And a note scribbled from a poet's hand, that was rather crass.
It read, Here's a gift for you. I found it in a pile on my grass.
I hope it reminds you of the poop that plopped from your ass.
Putin was enraged! Someone took a photo of his snarling jeer.
When it was shown on the news, the world let out a cheer!
He's going to take revenge, and wants everyone to live in fear
but I think there's a hero who's going to take down Vladimir.
The one who'll save Christmas is a jolly man in a red suit.
Usually he's kind to others, but not to one of such ill repute.
He'll get back all eight reindeer and his sleigh filled with loot
and tie up old Valdimir, that obnoxious murderous brute!
Santa wasn't injured when putrid Putin captured the reindeer.
Laying a finger beside his nose, he got himself into first gear.
"I'll nuke him," Santa said, "Blast his butt out the hemisphere!
Then deliver toys to girls and boys. Fly home and have a beer."