Best Lash Out Poems
To do justly in a world of injustice,
to love mercy though wanting revenge,
to walk humbly through forests of arrogance,
to speak softly and not to avenge.
To give kindly to any with physical needs,
to comfort the lonely in spirit,
to hold trembling hands of those grieving a loss
and hear hope sing although they can't hear it.
To locate the beauty in chaos,
to craft the humane out of tragedy,
to respond to tornado by building a home,
or to fire by planting a tree.
To never lash out at the ignorant,
to not ignore homeless or hungry,
to not grow impatient with those who are young,
to not be angry at the angry.
For I was once hungry and grieving,
I was once lonely and ignorant,
I was once vengeful and too blind to see
that I too was young and still arrogant.
But somebody wise came beside me,
saying, "Life isn't fair... but you can be -
live simply and give from abundance,
do the good that you're wanting to see.
Follow the Golden Rule always,
work hard - don't expect to be served,
be humble, treat others with kindness,
give honor wherever deserved."
These were the words of my parents,
who through War and Depression grew strong,
so whenever I make resolutions
their wisdom helps sort right from wrong.
written 15 Dec 2022
Categories:
lash out, new year,
Form:
Rhyme
Grief conceals itself
behind a veil
of anger, fear, and disbelief:
and yet, it invades your every thought.
In your heart, you want to lash out
at Death:
to send the hurt back!
Grief clings to Death:
and in so doing
devastates the living.
Your world shrinks
to memories:
reflected in pools of tears.
And life loses its spark:
a part of you is missing;
leaving a hole in your heart.
Time is but a concept
of the mind:
it has no power over grief.
And yet, there is something
stronger than time,
that can numb the pain, and comfort the soul:
a faith, fueled by love, hope, and trust.
Categories:
lash out, 10th grade, angst, anxiety,
Form:
Free verse
I am...
A seed that was blown from
A wayward wind
Sewn too soon
With fragile roots
Clinging
To a rocky soil
That fell between
The cracks
In a place covered
In ocean brine
Which...Somehow
Managed to exist
Where the sun
Could not shine
Except…
On those rare days
When it would burn
Through that veil
Of grey fog
Turning
The whole world blue
Blue skies...
Where clouds roamed
Aimlessly...
Over a quiet glassy surface
That would
When pushed...
By a raging wind
Lash out
In frustration
Shattering itself
On those jagged rocks
As it tried
Time
And time again
To move beyond that
Rocky shore
Where...
That rose
Tried in vain
To bloom.
Author: Elaine Cecelia George of Canada
Written: March 7th, 2015
Categories:
lash out, introspection, metaphor,
Form:
Bio
…you knew
No one should know the things I know,
nor bear the scars of such knowledge,
nor should they be forced by circumstance
to discard all of memory’s treasures.
The Llama will spit when the burden’s too great
but the child, he will bury it deep
carry it with him wherever he goes
condition himself not to weep.
The Lion will roar when wounded and weak
lash out at the wind and the rain
the child will yell from his spot deep in hell
and be told he must learn to forgive.
The rats will sneak in – the rats will sneak out
and feast on the lies they deny
the child in plain sight will cry through the night
and be ushered away at sunrise.
There are cracks in the walls as the empire falls
yet the liars still raise a gold chalice
hide in the cloud of incense they spread
to obscure their despicable malice.
So if a child yells, tells you of cold hells
of memories tortured and chained
look into his eyes and search for his soul
and weep, for he knows that you knew.
©2/14/2018
Categories:
lash out, abuse, betrayal, children, religion,
Form:
Verse
much like me on a sleepless night
i hear the roar of this restless ocean
pounding like thoughts in my head
as the wind drives me back
one step for every two i take
beneath this blood red rise of morning
inimical are these waves
as they lash out against the rocks
unleashing a spray
like a breath in winter's air
exhaled
yet it falls
like a rake against sand
claiming anything in its path
pulling it in then spitting it out
only to build again
like a raged mind
dissilient
i stand distanced
cowering on the sands
of time
awaiting its calm
June 24 2021
The Shape of water contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
Categories:
lash out, angst, ocean, time,
Form:
Free verse
The velvet sky was strangely quiet...
The Earth still and hushed beneath my feet.
No mountains groaned, no crumbling stone
Giving voice to my defeat.
The lake... calm and placid like mirrored glass...
Not a ripple to be seen.
Two loons at play had flown away
Leaving a tranquil pastoral scene.
Birds would sing to mark this day
As beasts roamed throughout the land.
I was not impressed and most distressed...
Nature's laws seemed well in hand.
The morning scented with a familiar air as
Meadow flowers made good their vivid fashion
But in my grief, there was a unyielding belief...
Nature should be gripped with far more passion.
I wanted Earthly reprisals and thunderbolts
To lash out their.. mournful roar.
I wanted winds to squall and towered trees to fall
And huge white capped waves to lap their shores.
I wanted the land to wither and blow away
Where wilted crops grow stunted for the year.
Where the force above... feels a desperate shove
And an unplumbed chasm then appears.
But then again... on further musing,
Such sights would not honor her at all.
We had oft discussed... there be no fuss
When she answered Heaven's call.
No trumpets roared or melodic lyres blurred
As a callous Nature missed that special day...
But Church bells rang and sweet Angelic voices sang...
When my dear Mother passed away.
The End
Categories:
lash out, grief, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
`
Those who lash out when the heart speaks
avoid the many mirrors reflecting themselves
For in this rippled dream,
where perfect does exist
and mistakes are long gone like a Milli Vanilli song,
they fail to see that we are all human…
errors come with the package (batteries not included)
Sidewalk footprints, back and forth
pacing past the entrance to that world
where words have no meaning,
regardless of how they are spoken (or written)
Self-absorbed deeply in the waves
of an ocean tide of fantasy
crashing in white foam feelings, disappearing by sunset
What is it that makes us who we are…
our smile, our fingers, our brand of cigarettes
shipped in plain brown envelopes,
our thoughts, our dreams, the poetry we write
when we need to get it out…good or bad
When lack of judgment drips from the skylight,
illuminating courage to do what we shouldn’t (even in darkness)
Wrong, I was wrong…regret, more than I could have known
I have looked in this mirror, then I looked away quickly,
Ashamed of that face, fell three stories below my heart,
slipped on the disgust splattered at my feet (by me)
Sunk up to my knees…bent, folding, scraped and bruised
but I require no sympathy, for I am not that devil Jagger sings of…
at least I hope not…please allow me to introduce myself…I am…me
Written for the Premiere I - Open Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Rob Carmack
Entered in the: NA the day away Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Lu loo
Categories:
lash out, life, me,
Form:
Free verse
You stare at me with vacant eyes
It’s like living with a stranger
Tears and tantrums we both despise
Where is the man I once loved?
Locked inside your own little world
Sometimes a piece of music makes you smile
But every day I know I’m losing you
I’m losing you bit by bit
I no longer get greeted with a loving kiss
These days you lash out uncontrollably
I get battered and bruised by your flying fist
But I’ll never give up loving you
NOT written from personal experience of living with someone with dementia
08~07~16
Categories:
lash out, caregiving, dedication, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
The swordsman who draws his blade
Heart racing at the keening of steel on scabbard
Tension coiled, poised for the unleashing
Held back by muscles tight with glee.
I am as the soldier, held in stance,
The lioness crouched beneath the concealing grass
As it sways back and forth, as insects sing along the day
Her every breath is halted, her veins do not pulse,
And just as the swordsman stands
They are statues in this moment,
Statues of derision,
Mocking, with their stillness, the very charged tension within.
And I am as the lioness frozen before her pounce
Coiled with motivation and purpose,
And I am as the tongue held with words clinging off its’ edge
Ready to lash out and strike with direction
But I am as the frozen purpose, held tight
Waiting, for a warrior to stand before me
For a reason to uncoil, to lash out with words and pounce.
But I am now as the pen halting before the purest of paper
White and supple, in askance for the lightest touch
A slash of the tip, drawing lines in ink
Lines like a hunter’s bowstring, taut with intent,
As the pen lies frozen above its prey, the falcon petrified aloft still winds
I am the need coiled tight like a wound jack in the box
But alas, there is no victim to frighten,
No pray to pounce upon, no sword or bared neck to slash against
And I am here, with pen frozen, ink ready to be drawn taut
And I have nothing to draw in the ink, no prey or purpose to evoke
I am coiled tight with energy, but it is release that so eludes me,
I am coiled tight with purpose, but it is direction that so denies me.
And here I am, pouncing at ground before me,
Slicing away at the air around me
Scratching away with a dry pen, on paper still white in askance
I write about…
I write about the coil within, and the lack without
And alone I wonder,
Is it enough, is it enough to go on, a wound up box
Waiting for the slightest touch, the weakest parry, to live.
Categories:
lash out, angst, art, confusion, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
[Please note: while this poem may seem harsh, my mother-in-law did much good in her long life, more than I expect I have. It was prompted by the 'shock' that death has the power to take even those with the fiercest of wills.]
How could this...thing have been her?
Lying shriveled and small on the bed,
as those who loved (and feared) her
gathered in the bereft hospital room
to let their shock and grief melt and
mold itself into its own atmosphere....
Her body seemed never to have been real,
never to have been a woman,
never to have been young once, and surely,
never to have been a mother....
And if it had been a body once,
housing a small dragon who could lash out fire
solely with her harsh and brutal tongue,
keeping those who loved her at bay and
the rest of us wary, aware of her power,
her terrible gift that seemed to shrink your soul--
then where did she go when her mouth froze open
as the last breath of a long life left quietly,
silently, without fuss or rancor...?
Still, though imperfect as you or I,
she was loved, mourned, honored....
If God only housed saints,
think how terribly lonely He would be.
Categories:
lash out, age, angst, bereavement, death,
Form:
Free verse
I didn't want anyone
to have a sad Christmas,
so I roamed Manhattan's star-decorated streets,
where many a homeless weeps...
where was I to find that someone,
if not in that corner where a barrel fire was?
By God's grace, I found that unhappy person in ragged clothes
to give my four presents to,
ending the drama of his woe
by bringing coat, shoes, gloves and a long scarf
to erase the misery of a beggar whose cold night was rough;
he widely smiled when I leaned forward and offered him my gifts!
Bewildered folks wearing the latest fashion attire, did not have
the decency of stooping down and give him a single quarter,
and doing so they killed the Christmas' spirit entirely...
a generous spirit well-known in this city; yes, my anger
could have made me lash out at them with indignation,
but realizing how greedy people can be withholding love:
I gasped in relief to discover a creche of our Savior so cheery
along the festive Fifth Avenue to get rid of my frustration!
What I found there was a Heaven-inspired sight
of gleaming angel's hovering the stable announcing Christ's glorious birth...
while beneath bang-pipers and trumpets players, glowing with mirth,
accompanied the youngest choir singing, "Holy Night."
Perhaps venturing out in the cold of the wealthiest city,
gave me the opportunity to realize the hidden goodness of kind souls
that give away their humble presents in various forms,
not expecting anything in return...but rejoice in the delightful sound of harmony.
Categories:
lash out, happiness, holiday, love, music,
Form:
Rhyme
I see their intentions,
In their trances of manipulation,
Mind-warping affection, they laid upon you,
And knowingly you feed on what I thought you were absorbing…
You lash out at me screaming, saying,
“Rest your distrustful inflicting,
Look me in the eye, accept me, and free me!
I will consume their darkness in a bleeding light,
Whilst juggling in the enigmas you cramp me in!
You wonder why I welcome all,
As danger tickles my curves, arresting your nerves
You most sacred, superstitious little butterfly
Cease your incessant, mocking lectures
Flapping your wings at me in a colorful warning
Yes, I know you have seen it all you perfectly transformed worm!
I know what you know even though you think I do not know it!
Your metamorphosis of completion is impressive, yes,
Yet in your expectations, you ignore the fact that I am shapeless,
Stepping into the open air to confront change with all of its surprises.”
My multihued resolve silenced her…
“I hear you! I hear you oh so clear,
You innocent, raw little worm of a girl…
So I shall allow, just know:
My mighty wings are here to shade you, not smother you
As your guardian, I will trust with sting
Swearing on my every heartbeat,
I will protect you as you engorge on the thorns you call beauty
I will lift you from the brushes to let you peek at the hungry birds,
And you will plead for me to shield you once more
Though when I do not, and the birds dive down to consume you,
In fear, in haste, you will sprout your magnificent wings,
You will call out my name,
And in tears I will watch you fly far above them all!”
For Justin Bordner's contest, "The Instincts of Innocence"
Categories:
lash out, beauty, freedom, growth, heart,
Form:
Epic
I love living in the Arctic
The cold I find so cathartic
But you must beware
I'm bi-polar bear
If crossed I can be anarchic
I'm really a huge white bi-polar bear
You can take my photograph, laugh and stare
But if you come too near
You'll have reason to fear
If I'm in Hyde's mood you'd better take care!
I'm usually very docile and quite nice
Relaxing on the shelves of polar ice
For food I am howling
My tummy is growling
I need to catch some tasty fish to slice
I possess great big furry white paws
But at times I can show my sharp claws
So don’t mess with me
Cos I can be nasty
My emotions have no get out clause
I don't really like eating seal blubber
It's tasteless as a tire made of rubber
And I don't like to swim
Unless I have the whim
I should have been born as a land lubber
My smile can turn into a frown
One minute I’m up, next I’m down
I can lash out at you
So whatever you do
Don’t call me a stupid bear clown
When I'm feeling like good Doctor Jekyll
I don't care if you tease me or heckle
I'll toss you my poop
Big scoop after scoop
Til I've covered all your little freckles
On a good day I’ll smile so nice
Enjoying white fish which I’ll dice
See me bask in the sun
Then I’ll go for a run
And play with my friends on the ice
I feel a weird change, a rumbling inside
An avalanche of emotions, a landslide
My claws are extended
Your visit has ended
Red mist all around ~ turning into Hyde!
The truth, it cannot be denied
I’m a bit like Jekyll and Hyde
You'd better leave town
When red mist comes down
Or run to take cover and hide!
Written by Lin Lane and Jan Allison
05~18~17
Categories:
lash out, change, emotions, identity,
Form:
Limerick
Watching the television
Reading the news
I ask not for your views
your case for war is farcical
Your indifference to human suffering is immoral
Yet you call yourselves men of faith and children
Of the clothe
You place your anger on vests of death and drop
Your bombs from birds like rain you kill and maim
And say its in his holy name
To feed your never-ending thirst for greed
You cut the green from the equators belt and clear
The forest to add more wealth
You leave me no clean air to smell
And then you persecute my life and so deprive me
Of my rights and when I rebel and demonstrate
You steal my vote
And filled with hate you lock me up behind
Eelectric gates
And when the continents of ice tell their story
Of immanent demise
You show no concern as winter begs for something cold
and summer has no layer to hold Its scorching heat
now uncontrolled
You know my torment you hear my cry
Deliver us from lying lips deceitful tongues and
Genocide
But you turn your sightless gaze aside
The winds though hear my plea and come with
Vengeance as they blow and the rains fall torrential
As they go
And twisters twirl in lands they do not know
The seas lash out with anger in its waters rising
flow
And the earth trembles as the mountains rumble
And fire comes from deep below
Your buildings now come crashing down
The land erodes to only rock and cost you billions
To put them back
And caged in temples of your conceit
You sit and wonder why
And Mother Nature smiles in the aftermath
Of your demise
Earl S. Jackson
Aug 2006
Copyright © 2006 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.
Categories:
lash out, nature, anger, me, rights,
Form:
Free verse
SPIRITS OF THE PARROTS
Two parrots, one red, one blue,
share one large, rotund zoo cage,
just the two of them.
There are plenty of perches,
yet they sit on the same one,
close together,
looking over a feast
of fruit and seeds to share.
They make no noise,
as if in silent prayer
before their meal.
Where are those parrots today?
Where is the cage?
Can we see their spirits
flying past the zoo, over the city,
up and down the state, across the country?
When they fly through clouds
and rest on phone wires,
can they see rallies on street corners,
counter-rallies opposite,
each group waiting for the other
to offend them, just so they can lash out
with swear words and name-calling,
refusing to even look for common ground?
No, most likely, they stay in heaven,
flying close together,
exploring the new Jerusalem,
eating fruit from the tree of life,
the red one and the blue one.
-Jennifer Fenn
Categories:
lash out, animal, bird, conflict, friendship,
Form:
Free verse