Best Mortifying Poems
You, are water~
fluid moods
overflowing extremes.
I dip my toes
testing,
should I dive in..?
This time,
will y o u let me sink or swim?
Have you r e a l l y changed?
You are a lagoon
soothing, cooling
tranquil.
For now, I float
in sweet oblivion...
You are soft, a shimmering mirage
of something I hope for.
Illusional life-giver;
a fertile oasis in arid land
giving love unhurt to my heart.
You move like an undulating river
natural, flowing, dynamic, definite,
sailing the curves
taking me places never imagined,
when we're apart.
You are a flash flood,
white water without warning!
Cleansing, destructive
baptizing both good and evil away.
You are a raging waterfall!
Beautiful in your steep revenge
threatening to roil me over the edge.
You are a tsunami!
Born of violent eruption.
Mortifying, underestimated, overwhelming
growing larger as I let you get closer.
Sweeping me up
slamming me along
with the rest of your emotional debris.
You are a MAELSTROM!
Dizzying, swallowing, suffocating
K i l l i n g
Spinning
sucking me down,
down,
through the center
into your drowning depression.
No,
your circular violence
h a s n ' t changed.
Categories:
mortifying, abuse, conflict, fear, pain,
Form:
Free verse
It seems that saucy little girls are rather smitten,
By the playful antics of a cuddly, furry kitten!
Whether she teases it with a tantalizing feather,
Or when they take their afternoon tea together!
The long-suffering kitty must find it hard to understand,
Why it must submit to her every mortifying demand,
'Specially when she places a silly bonnet upon its head!
(It would much prefer that she'd scratch its ears instead!)
She dresses it in a frilly frock and parades it in her pram,
Swaddled in fancy blankets. Oh, what a ridiculous sham!
Most humiliating of all is seeing the inscrutable smirks,
And hearing the catty jibes of alley cats - those ordinary jerks!
She insists that it take tea with a bib tucked 'neath its chin.
For table-mates a chatty doll and scowling bear to its chagrin!
It patiently waits for its bowl of milk to be properly served.
It abhors the many social graces that must be observed!
Though it suffers through the little girl's many dreadful schemes,
It loves to snuggle among her golden curls as she dreams.
It softly purrs in her ear as its little friend goes to sleep,
Making sure that she is safe - only then does it fall asleep!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
mortifying, animals, childhood,
Form:
Rhyme
Line of inquiry:
“betwixt the pulse of our heartbeat
simply present, head-heart linking
dwelling in time stretched blissful peace
awareness became unblinking
Animating Innate Vibrance
Open and shut, constant change
He’s on His throne, He’s off
My heartbeat says otherwise
My mortifying act of anamorphic shame
He says, “Sit still.”
He says, “Know that I Am…”
When I clear my head
not of everything
but when I sit in place
with only the inside and outside
universe; not without sound
I would be dead, without the sense
I’ve been given. I’m holding hands
with my own heart, quietly kissing
the peace, which I, all too often,
want to run from and to what…
How much time can I take
five or ten
minutes that I want to spend
elsewhere
but this is what I need. He
knows; the exploration time
spent in meditative prayer
pays higher dividends
Oh what I see
when I truly open my eyes
high beams highlighting,
sculpting, silhouette-sitting,
the unknown takes shape
The aha transforms. One
never forgets
when floored
with answers that transform
Categories:
mortifying, prayer, solitude,
Form:
Free verse
We decided to be elegant
Have breakfast outside on the veranda
A gorgeous Florida day
Where is mom?
Our mother asked.
No one knew.
What is a toaster doing on the table?
Daddy asked.
No one knew.
Where is grandma? I asked.
Maybe she overslept, Mom said.
Dad said, “As if we could be that lucky!”
Grandma had kind of invited herself.
She is a big nut and keeps us happy.
We three kids love it that she came.
“Hey! What’s this?” My six-year-old brother asked.
A sign that said, “push me!”
He pushed the down lever.
Grandma came popping out of the toaster
Once again delighting us kids
And mortifying our parents.
Best trick ever!
Categories:
mortifying, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry
They were nearing LaGuardia Airport when the pilot felt a sudden urge.
He told the copilot to grab the yoke saying his bladder he must purge!
He left the cockpit and wended his way to the lavatory in the rear.
Thus, a series of events unfolded, some of which remain quite unclear!
Things 'flowed' along nicely until the pilot attempted to exit the john!
Alas, the door was jammed and he mused, "Is someone putting me on?"
When he tried to escape from his predicament he discovered a catch;
He was alarmed to find that the doggone door had a defective latch!
In the cockpit the copilot was growing very uneasy about their plight.
The tower called to say they were 50 miles out and were cleared to alight!
To add to his consternation, some jerk was pounding on the cockpit door,
Yelling with a foreign accent - a serious situation he dare not ignore!
The tower operator, just to be certain there would be no later regrets,
Wisely called the Air Force and they alerted a squadron of their jets!
The copilot proffered a prayer saying, "Lord, have mercy on us please!
Help, Lord! Landing this bird alone will test my fortitude and expertise!"
In the meantime good Samaritans helped the pilot to escape his cell!
He scampered to the cockpit to take charge and all turned out well!
This mortifying escapade will be long remembered in airline lore,
About the pilot whose wings were clipped by a faulty lavatory door!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
(Based on an actual incident that occured on a flight from Asheville, NC
to LaGuardia Airport, 16 Nov 2011. Written with just a tad of embel-
lishment!)
Categories:
mortifying, funny, prayer,
Form:
Rhyme
Das Don doth debilitate democracy
driving a collateral wedge
deliberately dividing differences
collaborating, collapsing, and collaring
disparity amidst ever
increasing homogenization
extant within contiguous United States
across world wide web for that matter
attested by increased
spike among multiracial
amalgamated enclaves, individuals mixing,
where preponderance of melanin
generally affecting predominance
regarding increasing swarthy
naturally copper toned skin
across vast majority of heavily
Caucasian populated areas predicted
to become minority
according new statistics
located at webpage
https://www.brookings.edu/blog/
the-avenue/2018/03/14/
the-us-will-become-minority-
white-in-2045-census-projects/
predict the nation will become
“minority white” in 2045
which genetic assimilation
also harken better angels
among us to herald
interfaith marriage represent
according to hyperlink-
https://www.npr.org/
2013/04/10/176802652/
til-faith-do-us-part-
the-price-of-interfaith-marriage
close to half of all marriages
in this country over the past 10 years
(this cited for the year 2013,
which mostly increased since).
No doubt, the commander in chief
buzzfeeds into this inexorable trend
disquieting, horrifying, mortifying...
especially white supremacists
decrying, lamenting, threatening...
innocents abroad, and/or naturalized citizens
taking cruel dull liver re: to heart
acrimonious, caluminous, jealous, ferocious...
hazarding, kindling, tweeting
inevitable demographic transition overtaking
North America, and teeming masses
(particularly whose skin color,
perhaps fifty shades of brown,
albeit I hereby posit as
forthcoming second, yet
nonpareil gilded bronze age).
Relatively insignificant disparity
(within schema, asper genus/ species
*****sapiens per se)
people comprise greater similarity,
versus starkly disparate contrasts
between each other,
nonetheless oh bomb men able
enthuses, maximizes, trumpets...
every opportunity to spark
altercations, conflagrations, exhibitions...
animals veritably tearing each other
satiating human blood lust,
where coordination, integration, union...
welcoming brother/sisterhood, tolerance,
versus filleting, fomenting fracturing
mosaic boosts ego
inherent narcissistic tribalism!
Categories:
mortifying, america, conflict, grief, howl,
Form:
Political Verse
This bewildering computer of mine just gives me fits!
I panic when the consarned thing goes on the fritz!
I peruse the baffling manual but that doesn't help me any.
It might as well have been written in Hindustani!
There is no one more computer illiterate than I,
So I must call that guy in India when things go awry!
He patiently checks for spyware and virus infections,
And tests the modem and internet connections.
Today he found no problems during his troubleshoot.
He suggested that I shut down and try to reboot!
As a parting shot he asked if my cursor was working alright;
I reached for the mouse to check - it was nowhere in sight!
At that mortifying discovery I gently hung up the phone.
Consternation reigned - how much more can I condone!
The frayed mouse tail lay there looking so grotesque.
I looked for the mouse on the floor and all about my desk!
Alas, nothing to do but buy another for it to replace.
But wait! Why that Cheshire smile on my pussy cat's face?
"Aha! I think the mystery is solved!" I exclaim to my spouse!
"I think that sneaky scoundrel has swallowed my mouse!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
mortifying, computer-internetcomputer, me,
Form:
Rhyme
My nude statue stood on the courthouse lawn
Cast in bronze it caused most folks to yawn
I stood there so trim and lean
Even pigeons left it clean
I woke and thank goodness the bronze was gone
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in John Freeman's "Compromising Dreams" Contest - July 2010
Categories:
mortifying, funny
Form:
Limerick
Marking yourself in the glow of service
lady of virtue are you along significance-height
shining beyond worldly stardom...
while becoming a blessing by God's grace.
Overcoming poverty's grip
your industriousness with persevering courage
helped lift your family...
granting your siblings opportunities to progress.
Poured out with heavenly provisions
you constantly reach-out with care
while sharing the Gospel...
and aiding those in need.
Exemplifying helpfulness’ gesture
constantly revealing your kind soul
you're always extending generosity...
attested by your husband and children.
Magnifying the Lord* with praise as your heart's priority
you're a paragon, worthy of emulation
mortifying flesh with the Spirit's sword...
since your love anchored upon faith* in Christ radiates.
*Proverbs 31:30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised.
August 30, 2019
Edited on July 1, 2020
In loving memory of Sis. Eleanor Villarino
1st place, "In Loving Memory" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh; judged on 7/5/2020.
Categories:
mortifying, appreciation, blessing, christian, faith,
Form:
Free verse
Suspended . . . tormented, in a mind so distant
I arrive at the said destination with a sigh. . .
What I expect is mortifying
What lies ahead still remains a meddlesome mystery
The air is thin—the water droplets seem. . . warm
But I feel a coldness when they hit my skin
The skin that only once touched your hand. . . . .
It is comforting when surrounded by shadow
To feel the soft embrace of long-yearned rain
It is dully consoling to know I am Alone. . .
Chemical reactions are made in instances
Each second of despair heightened by the electrical pulses
Going mad when the waters clash
And the feelings of comfort are gone yet again
The thoughts that used to hold me up
Have collapsed from under me
And Alone is felt in a new shade…darker than the shadow of comfort
The tears replace the rain. . .
Boiling the skin on my face to redden and shame
The burn provides little distraction to despair
Knowing the one I love will never be here. . .
Even now I envy those who can speak…
Who scoff and spit—and whine, groveling in grit
Those who can see and clearly feel their enemy
How they spiritually dispose of their peer
Through lack of understanding and jeer
I would much easier embrace my darkest enemy,
Than be with the one I love
I would much rather abuse myself
Than lay a finger on the precious one who wrongs me
Because you have abandoned all thought of me. . .
Through your life and innocence,
You have harmed me—wronged me. . .
You were mistaken. . . .I can never understand you
Because I have never truly seen you
At times I can almost feel you. . .
But all I feel is pain
All I feel is the burning rain. . .
I envy those around you. . .
Like the madman straight out of prison
I even envy your opposers
In truth, I obsess over the thought
Of Alone:
The definition of “Without You”
. . .
Without you here,
I arrive at no destination
What lies ahead is only despair
The rain I feel . . . are tears—
Comforts that never last
And all that used to hold me up
Is merely a heart-broken collapse. . .
I never wished to cling onto your nonexistence. . .
Believe me—
All I ever wanted. . .
Was a thought
A. . .chemical reaction if you will
A simple “I am here for you”. . .
Without you, Alone, I confess,
Sometimes one can only dream
Categories:
mortifying, absence, hurt, i miss
Form:
Free verse
Most Authors and Writers of any kind
would want to avoid the sharp, biting mind
of that mordant and poignant Satirist
whose words of ridicule, and taunting interest
lampoon the very heart and soul
of even the most ardent of Poets so bold
with all their mortifying diatribe
and instill hopelessness in the most timid of Scribe.
What most Authors and Writers of any kind
should bear and keep in mind
that Satirist's are good to have around
in keeping Poets and Writers feet, solid to the ground
their harsh criticism should be a welcomed teaching sound
for their didacticism, is adapted for their precepts to preach,
And composition and metrical verse patterns are all formatted to teach
so as to avoid denunciative, spurious speech.
Let all Poets and Writers everywhere
feel blessed to have those Satirist's there.
For the Poets writes to free and ease the heart and soul
whilst writers of books, hopes to have his work sold,
But the Poets burden can oft' time be too vast to state
then the Satirical Satire can order put to his mind
in helping the Poet to place his priorities in line.
So doff your hat to that esteem critic, Poets of any kind
as they guide your hand towards claiming your laureled crown.
Categories:
mortifying, on writing and words,
Form:
Verse
Its just one feeling, a simple normal emotion; ....Every one feels it, I think.....But I can’t help this chill from crawling up my spine.... Implanting poisonous fear deep within my mind.....It spreads viciously to every nerve telling me it’s won; you’ve won....... ..Your words strike fires in the recesses of my thoughts; ....Even the slightest spark from it scorches and burns images and memories into my skin like a scarlet carving still raw with every memory. ....Thoughts of you consume claiming hostile takeover;....So when I say your love burns, you better believe its true! ....I even gag at the simplest thought of you, ....Imagine what your words do. ...... ..I hate you! But I can’t seem to forget you, ....Your memories are my poison the dagger in my back,.... Your touch stings of acid burning my flesh upon contact. ....Your lies have always won you freedom,....But you’ve run out of lies to tell,.... I’ve written them down upon his big Black book;.... God knows each and every word, now tell me who’s got who?...... ..You’re my fear in 3D, the monster in my head.....Your love is despicable a forced injection in my veins..... Burning,stabbing deep with in, ....I yearn to beat it, to control it, but you wont let me.you’re the disgusting infection under my skin!....Your own personal weapon of just three mortifying words,....Words that twist and snake there way through all walls and barriers,....Words that stop at nothing, not even “NO”..... .... I fight to be rid of you; Denial is my strongest weapon,....But distance keeps me free! ....The pain just intensifies with each lie I tell to me;....Each night your near I’ll smile hidden deep in side my lies,.... You’ll never see me cry!...... ..You think you’ve won! You think I’m weak! ....Just because at each punch I turn the other cheek, ....One day I’ll beat the burn, I’ll put out your Poisonous flame!...... .. Each day I’ll tell my self the same sick lies:....“He doesn’t love you! It’s all a lie! Some day he’ll pay! Perhaps he’ll die”....So I’ll hide in the safety of my friends,....I’ll ignore you and your poison until I know I’ve beaten it! ....That way you’ll know you’re wrong,....I’m strong!
Categories:
mortifying, abuse, anger, bullying, conflict,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
I want so many things
I want to be kissed on the cheek
I want to be told
"Your hair looks so soft!
Can I feel it?"
I want to be hugged
As though I could slip away at any second
I want so many mundane things
But of course
I could never say any of that
To do so would be to break social standing
And status quo
So instead
I spout it off to the internet
Online
Or in a journal
Where faceless beings
Or future historians
Might read it and feel
The mortifying horror of asking
All of us agreeing
To pretend we don't want it too
Categories:
mortifying, silence,
Form:
Free verse
That timetables rapt familiarized discern
resolves transmitting rumors, my befriend
dysfunctions with misgivings, halting's bend
and circumvents a standstill toward no end!
While oppositions furthering's belief
beginning's placate, anchoring's achieve
and dormancy becomes a truth's bereave,
life's reconciling justice to perceive!
All told, involuntary atmospheric sieve,
the matters decimating planning's blind
are flushed away, as truth's fulfilled contend
perniciously is focused to amend!
The timeless trust, no telltale virtue's send
can irritate or spill the hope's distend
hurt's mortifying gospels' spoken trends
are turned to Love, by faith's conspired extend!
This standstill wavers not with jury's press
the voice of legal cost must so address
some epilogue of change, not chance's duress
must gravitate consideration's bless!
Trial of Standing Bear, Ponca Indian Chief. On May 12, 1879
Chief Standing Bear held out his hand to Judge Elmer Dundy
and pleaded for recognition of his humanity ~
"My hand is not the color of yours, but if I pierce it, I shall feel pain.
If you pierce your hand, you will feel pain. The blood that will flow
from mine will be of the same color as yours. I AM A MAN.
The same God made us both."
Go to www.poncatribeofnebraska.com and read legacy manuscripts
written by Thomas Henry Tibbles ~ and most definitely visit upper
Northeast Nebraska on the Niobrara and Missouri Rivers.
Categories:
mortifying, abuse, anti bullying, beautiful,
Form:
Monorhyme
A conservative guy was he,
keeping to himself and
not oft, initiating verse with others.
Working hard at everything he pursued,
Bill attained a sort of wealth,
to be felt and not seen.
After all, he did have a family.
It was not supposed to matter
how many things a man had.
but, more what he practiced,
what he consumated,
before he died.
Leaving behind two beautiful girls,
many vehicles and a wife, Bill passed
at an early age.
Adjustment to the loss
came easily for the girls,
However 'twas mortifying to wife/ mother,
Categories:
mortifying, loss,
Form:
Bio