Best Offense Poems
I have found little in this
and none in that
I am a women
but have yet to have
a positive reaction to sex
at least to the heterosexual kind
I'm becoming more curious
about what exactly it is next
door that I will find.
I don't particular think
thrusting in and out is a good
image in my mind.
Why does pain first have
to ensue for pleasure to unwind?
I guess I just haven't caught
the right fish yet and
until than my vagina will
continue to feel dispassionate
unless my fingers are inserted
The White House is on a great lot
It's Washington's drive to it spot
But guards only train
That terror's to contain
So mentally ill there get shot
Author's note: The new treatment for postpartum depression is now a firing squad.
Heart of porcelain with crimson lips
Cracks a gap toothed grin
But troubled cobalt eyes
Reflect a sorrow deep within
Chestnut locks obscure his sight
As he now hangs his head
He shrinks in silence suddenly
His countenance speaks dread
I look to see what force has come
To bring about the change
But, when I behold the source
It seems no longer strange
The one who glowers at the boy
Contorts his face with rage
What could this little child have done
At such a tender age
To provoke unbridled hate
And fury from this man
Who should be cherishing his son
I cannot understand
He roughly drags the boy away
I watch in frozen fear
Saline heat runs down my cheek
One single, bitter tear
Inspired by Sami Al-khalili's contest, "Face of All Emotions"
My bad is one way, but sorry is the best
To replenish the bliss that flows through my flesh
Your perfect to me but every bullet won’t hit the vest
Good intentions were intended but I’m sorry it wasn’t shown
But when the bullet left the gun, it’s too late to be postpone
For a few seconds, my kindness had flown
But it flew back, without wings and just a clone
With the shades off, I see the picture that’s there
With the gloves off, I stroke your feelings with care
If you have an offense, please don’t share
If a cut was made, can you help me repair
I love you to death, and this I swear
Next time before I say or do, I will prepare
Instead of acting before I roll a square
The Offense
The days for a while were so happy
such a glow and a smile on his face,
the holidays had come and gone
yet through it all God had given them His blessed grace.
Sometimes it is just a careless word that has been spoken
but then the enemy comes to take at her his best shot,
her countenance I know takes a tumble
till the Holy Ghost relieves this sore spot.
The questions and thoughts that have bombarded her mind
and leaves her in quite a bad mess,
the love and encouragement and help of her mate
cut off at present until once again God’s grace comes to bless.
Why did he say it, she questions Oh, Lord,
does he genuinely love only me?
or was I someone he just settled for
instead of waiting any longer as he looked at his big pile of laundry.
An offense that is small and certainly
unintended soon to this shall surely come to pass,
but even small and hurtful words can bring about much pain
and cause wounds that for years can and do last.
So we need to deal with our pain
and words of a hurtful nature before the wound opens up and begins to bleed,
please oh, please my Precious Lord
heal these bruises I cry out to You from bended knees.
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
January 2, 2002
Your words they stand eternally,
They’re words that cannot simply leave
They sink into my memory
Like stones set on misery
Tried to make some good of them,
Found it hard to call you a friend
Your truth was so bold
Time lost in their cold
Why do we smile so easy
For a photograph?
Why can’t life just be
Like a photograph?
You say no offense
No offense taken,
No, no heart broken
I’m strong, oh I’m stronger than the mouth that spoke
No heart broken
Do not awaken
A soul that’s about to choke-
Cause I will smile on...
I can't be what you make of me
I will smile on
No offense taken, with me
No offense taken, with me
Ghosts are haunting all my fears
Bursting at the gleam of tears
Can’t you see I’ve lived by it?
Made use of it, use of it?
Oh, has it changed you around?
No, don’t try to take it down
The hurt is set in stone
So let it sink alone
Why do we smile so easy
For a photograph?
Why can’t life just be
Like a photograph?
No offense taken,
No, no heart broken
I’m strong, oh I’m stronger than the mouth that spoke
No heart broken
Do not awaken
A soul that’s about to choke-
I will smile on
I won't be what you make of me
I will smile on
No offense taken with me
No offense taken
With me,
With me,
With me…
Pondering from perch the other day,
a thought grew as two conversed.
Addendum to what you have to say,
gives quarter to him, sacred cursed.
Utterances,hurtful, make others tense.
Apathetically dissuaded with "no offense".
In a tandem embraced scene
fearful men wage war with a word.
Cutting low, they boast and preen,
stating jest to cover what's slurred.
Wringing anguish, anger invoke.
Flippantly stating it "was just a joke".
Insecure ego's infesting pride,
spitting frozen nouns, verbs of acid.
Empty friendships, unwanted guide.
Destruction complete of spirit placid.
Pleading personality and decision.
Haughty pretense. Mocking derision.
-Angel Fatale-
"When someone offended us, doesn't mean we are willing to be hurt, but rather willing to
forgive the offenses because we Love." .twitted on Twitter account
No offense, one kid says.
But school lunch’s meat tastes like raccoon droppings.
Why would that be offensive? I wonder.
Do you know I am
not dissin' you when I write
stuff I call haiku?
Soup makes me pick form
and sometimes that's only one
makes any sense 'tall.
Anyhow respect
(like, muchly) peops who study
and try to perfect.
I do things my way.
I like that others do things
otherly than me.
Now, here's the thing... if
one of the pos I haikued
placed in serious
contest, I would doubt
what the scene was all about.
Yak haiku has place
but serious trumps.
Some brilliant lines goin' down
thanks to the poets.
I'm waiting-
Fences,
Offenses,
Come over!
Someone smells like smoke. I can barely stand to sit here.
Clenching my teeth, I have a headache, everywhere near.
A friendly smoker has sat next to me, oh, dear.
I jump up, because her smell is killing me, so clear.
I am an asthmatic, and I cannot breathe next to a smoker, I think.
In the nicest way I have to say, politely, if you smoke, you stink.
Your breath stinks, and stench comes out of your pores that are no longer pink.
If you do not agree, you are a smoker, and no offense, but you stink.
The only thing more smelly and more dangerous to me is Patty Perfume.
Patty wears so much perfume that an asthmatic like me has to leave the room.
I jump up and move an aisle or two over so my breathing can resume,
But Patty Perfume follows me, triggering a cough that blows me to the moon.
If I am lucky, I will merely throw up, after my cough will not quit.
There is often a cup that I can use to do a small dainty spit.
But when Smoker Sherry and Perfumed Patty both come sit next to me,
I cannot breathe, and I choke, my eyes water, I fall down on my knees.
They are both my worst nightmare, individually, and together.
I cannot attend church now, I pretend I am under the weather.
Should I put my life in danger, go to church, and pretend all is okay?
And hope Smoker Sherry and Perfumed Patty do not attend that day?
I might sound picky, set in my ways, and such, but need I remind you?
When you make your choices, you could be sealing other people’s fates too.
The sting of offense
Is crippling
To an unrepentive heart
When wounded by a fiery dart
Walls of defense
Built on revenge
Will only pull us apart
We can not take back
Or change what has been done
But we can overcome
Choosing to love the one
Who by all standards
Is unworthy of our love
Laying down an offense
Is not weakness but strength
Forgiveness and grace
For another’s mistake
Sets the heart free
To receive and live in victory
"You shouldn't cook that!"
I heard them all say.
"Why, that's only served
on Christmas Day!"
"You shouldn't bake that,
Something else you must cook.
Our husbands will know
and how will that look?"
"It's fourth of July
No time for that dish.
These rules can't be broken
please honor our wish!"
But I pay no heed
to wives' rambling tricks.
My taste buds cry out
for sage and bread mix.
No husband have I
to eat what I make.
So why should I care
whatever I bake?
There is no set rule
No government law!
I just crave dressing
with turkey. That's all.
I sit with pen in hand this downcast morn;
and search the Muses for more enraptured songs;
songs of great cheer, of memories heartworn,
to banish the spirits of inflicted wrongs;
before, no songs could quell the ruthless onslaughts
of life; so abject, I was comfortless;
unsaved but for them hovering in my thoughts,
wooing me with lines that eased the hopelessness.
So, wherefore am I life's steel lightning rod;
a man, and lone soul, whose quiet defense
the world longs to disrupt—invade? (So awed
am I, that viciously it takes offense.)
From such place, the Muses grant their rare escape;
where, in peace, poets can safely take their shape.