Best Peevish Poems
I go by myself walking
I hear myself talking;
Then as I deliberate
On the direction of fate
That leaves me so anxious
With illusions atrocious
Invading my privacy
With the blight of absurdity.
They come there unbidden
Like troubles forbidden;
Showing their faces
In my secret places;
Peevish and fractious
Mindless and anxious
Blighting the laughter
With deeds that come after.
Trying to taunt me
To follow and haunt me.
In my mind they come festering
In my ears they are pestering
That my enemies are treacherous
My friends are ominous
And my life is dangerous.
The calamitous confusions
Bring perfidious allusions
Deceptions so diabolical
Fears that are comical
And all these do vex me
With nightmares to perplex me
While Satan sits amused
Knowing I am confused.
Categories:
peevish, confusion,
Form:
Rhyme
I walk amidst all these people
Contemplating in thought I stare
I walk entranced, my mind so rapt
As if I were not even there
Across crowds of so many
Of all colors, of all faces
The Western, the Eastern
Personalities in all races
I see the thin and fat
I see the short and tall
In shapes and sizes
Beauty varies in all
Some stroll with smiles
Of the old and blue
Others in peevish laughter
Of youth and hue
Dressed in diverse styles,
Some dim, some flare
I walk by women in beauty veiled
And others that walk half-bare
In some I see despair
In others I find insight
Some, I just walk by
With not much visible to sight
I walk amidst all these people
Each one to life a strand
I walk in thought, in masses
And I simply don’t understand
Categories:
peevish, adventure, confusion, introspection, life
Form:
Rhyme
The globe doth spin, as we walk perpendicular.
I find, this fact, indeed this most peculiar.
Stammering, stuttering we yammer about fixing the earth!
Yet read the poetry, full of how, "it does not work".
Perhaps we should all look in the mirror and wonder why,
The universe outshines our peevish, constant complaints and cries.
How ungrateful many nations be, wanting to control our freedoms and chosen, individual destinies.
The genuine individual is insulted, scoffed at, or not recognized at all.
Just the sheep, who follow lead shepherds, get acknowledgement
at all.
12-28-2020
11:30am PST
Categories:
peevish, humanity, philosophy,
Form:
Rhyme
Night Shift Worker
At sunset is the beginning of our day
Darkness embraces our peevish spirit
Flashing neon signs bring us in esprit
We are mindful of making a living
Danger awaits us anytime
But this is where my feet are destined to go
Where the crime took place, I need to be there on time
My pen and camera come along to tell stories awhile ago
Steady and careful hands are attentive to ailing one
Life and death situation, I presumed life will always prevail
My job demands accuracy, for mistakes will hound my wisdom
Nursing to sustain a losing life will not fail
Eager to go to the heart of the sea
While the full-moon beams dwell into the deep
My fishnet awaits patiently for a catch
For early in the morning, I bring meals to a family
I need to be tough in any situation
Unwelcome visitors alert my action
To guard premises and valuables stay untouched
By greedy creatures harmful to the serenity of the place
The graveyard shift is my time to log for work
The workplace is loud where the phone ring is enchanting
I need to stay calm and soft to answer complaints
In the end, I say “thank you for calling, have a nice day”
I am at work, while most of the humans are sleeping
I sleep when all of them are awake
Cursing words are normal, my ears are adjusted
I am used to it, to make it through my shift every single day
As soon as the sunrise, my day ends
Daylight warms my weary eyes and body bends
Down the hills and street, I rushed
Only to keep the promise, to come home for my family I must
Posted also in voicesnet.com poetry site last: 26 August 2009
Categories:
peevish, life, passion, people,
Form:
Rhyme
Trochaic Pentameter
My love's spirit's gentle like a breeze that
blows cool o'er this my brow, most hot, feverish.
I am made calm by her presence like at
times when discontent doth make one peevish.
She is children's mother never churlish,
meeting needs with day to day devotion.
Seen ne'er showing disposition surlish,
lady having no bad fractious notion.
She doth ease all banes with soothing lotion,
wipes away hurts life delights in bringing.
Problem solver, lessens my full portion.
Oh hark! Listen stranger! My heart's singing.
Gentle spirit, loving mother, my pearl.
These and more are seen in soul of my girl.
Categories:
peevish, love,
Form:
Sonnet
The Poem is dedicated to nine innocents who has lost their lives in Israli attak on their
humanitarian aid.
Docility, a living destitute of Anthropomorphism.
Recency, appalling of desperation or piteous anomalism.
Recommendations apotheosize a fussiness of hell or heaven,
A gun shooter killed innocents a crackable Raven.
To shot a child or an old person hard lines limicolous
Inconsecutive lewdness a peevish peeping Tom Ligneous.
Reprehensible polygamist direful coiled chaotic prattle,
A salacious salubrity paramour remorseless battle
Categories:
peevish, caregiving
Form:
Limerick
As a moth attracts to a flame,
I became; blinded by his blaze.
Leaving me wounded and dazed,
On the battle Ground is where we remain.
Leaking trust like a weak bladder,
Discharging accusations like violent explosions, of gunpowder.
Not believing in the love, I have for him,
Leaving Blood splats all over the arena.
Bleeding blood shot eyes.
Everything I have to say, he takes as lies.
Having no mercy for the man before me,
I become the predator.
Breaking up just to make up, crazy to others but works for us.
Love and war for the man I adore,
Late night bickering in engage peevish arguing.
Skirmish conflicts leading to intimate kisses,
of the battle of the sexes.
Some loving is what I really wanted.
Sexually yielding complying with the request of his desires, I admire.
I lay down on the battleground, surrendering my rights while he continues to play fight.
Lieutenant in his presence,
next in rank to my captain.
In love with his persistent makes me pursue this.
Never having to fight for his attention,
He gives me everything I been missing.
As he is taking charge, I am pinned up against the wall.
He is my personal lifeguard, my body as the main yard.
My love is the trump card.
Battling to death almost out of breath as the words I am sorry lay our problems to rest.
Until next time with our bipolar tendencies, he loves and dislikes me.
Categories:
peevish, conflict, crazy, feelings, for
Form:
Light Verse
Dust rises thick with grim, sweat drips from rims
of drug-store eyes he wears to spy.
A parting of the slats, which dangle by twin hooks
This Moses at the sea
will look, and count, to see who's home, who's come, who's gone
Behind a brick façade, what makes one hide
in a beehive's nest of shopworn lives?
Where sorrow turns to peevish glue
in a Hitchcock room that feeds his fear?
Where wind says, "Come outside"!
Should he pull the string, raise the blind
maimed of grime and years? Then what? Then what?
Slacken the cord to scan the scene?
What if the wind asks, "Come outside" ?
They come and go, come and go
Who knows when or why they go
Where do they go, where do they go, where do they go go go
His breath escapes, from thin lips, pursed,
against the glass. as if rehearsed
His youth entombed by flocks of loss…
Thoughts tossed, will rise, then bounce and drift,
within the rift of fear and dread
Webbed with soot, popcorn, and tunes of
long-lost schemes, long lost dreams
He watches those who never cross
an empty hallway, disturb his peace with knocks,
or bells, or locks or smiles
Who never cross discord's threshold,
hold a dish, lend a hand or take the chance to know such cold
Wind whips the trees and claims his mind
and yells again to come outside
Sun's shaded by those leafless chances, slats that sever
all the dreams of ever after…
……and the wind screams stay inside
_____________________________________________________________________
For the contest: "Poe In Plath Style"
Sponsored By July Morning
2/11/18
Categories:
peevish, anger, angst, depression, hurt,
Form:
Free verse
I have held the child and crestfallen
been. I have seen the face of famine
its peevish and sullen glare, a face
with hollow eyes and missing smile.
Of slow and ambling gait it drags
its cloak of misery and despair with
neither thought nor care.
It hands out pain and poverty in ever
increasing portions, disease and total
depredation flow in streams of human
sadness. Hearts and souls are reaped
in the squander of man's neglect, as
the child's cry is drowned in the open
apathy of fellow man.
Monies donated often lost or misspent,
policies adopted constantly fail, ideals
concealed in hidden agenda's, dreams
smitten by the sword of avarice and
greed.
The West sits astride the mountains
of surplus commodities to maintain
price levels, as the arms trade to the
third world flourishes bestowing
more grief and suffering.
It is beyond belief that in Africa
green oasis's were created so that
the World cup could take place, and
yet in other areas a field of corn or
wheat is still wanting.
Human we are humane we are not,
somewhere in the jungle of priorities
we are lost. Yes I know tonight I will
sit and eat my fill in comfort, maybe
a dessert of guilt.
Categories:
peevish, hopeworld,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Although yours truly modest,
the only personal issue
I will lightly boast about
constitutes lingering
self worthlessness bred
if not prior to first grade,
than most definitely incipient,
academic deadlines
loomed large with dread
and exacerbated by procrastination
quickly adopted as linchpin
damned obsessive compulsive
currents (i.e. thoughts) fed
modus operandi, which intricate
schema writ over lifetime invisible
within this talking head
who ironically enough
never uttered a beep
engendered from lack
of confidence, esteem,
somehow worthlessness,
insignificance,
emasculation, et cetera
took root, and didst leap
(axon to neuron)
and said mindset did seep
percolating into every nook,
and cranny comprising
aging shades, transformed
gray matter, sans this
beatle browed bummer, a deep
purple, though easily mistaken
for minuscule Uriah Heap,
or perhaps, ewe might notice,
(albeit while in a sheep
push disposition) similarities
between mine fist
sized thinker, and another creep
pee totally tubular Charles Dickens
character, or maybe
even a commercial
for nano bot sized jeep
grand Cherokee keep
up a moderate clip despite,
and/or because I
oft times feel a light
buzz sensation within me quite
average gummed up noggin
jammed numb skull,
(essentially barren aged
teenage wasteland recently
undergoing gentrification),
(yeah how really) excite
ting, a no brainer fright
fully glommed with peevish
gobbledygook plus worthless,
obsolete, and crammed academic right
hand busily twiddling, scribbling,
and sloppily drafting
error riddled assignments
deliberately failing heavily
marked with bright
colors adding oomph
to mental blight
punctuated by
attaining puny height
(...oh, about seventy inches),
nonetheless, my slight
physique and mute quiet
as a mouse, I might
as well hove been a stand in
for Charlie Brown right
down to the tree eating kite
good grief - never an ending fight
with Lucy, hence now this knight
in rusty armor forever
disparaged his might
and attests to
20/20 hind sight!
Categories:
peevish, age, conflict, destiny, fate,
Form:
Bio
To fly with Jane
across the sky
and
glide amidst the sea
open the sheet of notebook paper, I see....
To fly with Jane
feel weightless in air
and
be suspended through thrashing wind
with the sheet of notebook paper, I bend....
To fly with Jane
at heights of total bliss
and
recall towns of old
with this part of notebook paper, I fold...
To fly with Jane
let away all worries
and
recycle these thoughts
with this small part of notebook paper, I tuck....
To fly with Jane
through times so troubled
and
release those peevish concerns
with that part of the notebook paper, I turn....
To fly with Jane
underneath valleys of green
and
travel past cray canyon dip
with the final part of the paper, I flip....
To see
to bend, to fold
to tuck, to turn
to flip-- to create
The only way to fly
is to make Jane's device
of the sky--as have I
Categories:
peevish, adventure, childhood, fantasy, children,
Form:
Free verse
Strange sedition stealthy sets
cloaked in artificial greening phiz
some by prejudice inquiring,
“Where are you from”?
others in feigning frame avoiding,
finding paths away from you,
Though harmless your looks.
There be those secluding,
choosing space dodging.
deliberate speed the drama,
of Conceited Bias unspoken,
The loss of childhood innocence,
Deprivation infinite,
miscarriages of Justice,
preferential treatments innumerable,
spites and Obvious denigration,
strange glare on nature's kiln,
The sun made me shine little mind,
I don't envy You in this cold.
The spite, multitudinous,
The Jeers, unprovoked contumely,
At work,
The Bus,
the Malls,
The elevator,
the peevish looks,
uncertain repudiations,
Even in Church secluded,
The brief suspense at the “sacred” ground
Exclusivity,
We see it, watching in silence.
Some time too Obvious,
Unspoken Nepotism,
“We first”, You Last or voided.
The denigrating use of “Minority or Others”
As though the described are less human,
I am African, NOT "minority" or "others"
we know these sieving schemes.
In civility we ignore,
A better knowledge Leads
This dying carcass a mere container,
We are not inferior,
we are not a threat,
We are beautiful ,
We observe,
We lough at these ,
And when the manacles of Justice is snapped by the creator of colors
then shall you know,
We are all sojourners here.
Categories:
peevish, africa, color, conflict, culture,
Form:
Free verse
Exodus
Dew-risen art the dawn of life
This life, my passage
Curiosity arrays his patient plight
Against the willy-nilly hours of time
Up and down, side to side
Kites and sparrows the silent skies weave
Coasting all mounts and Dale's in dark precision
Watching indifferent tides in frightful hopes
Whether happiness away shall ever come
Murky was night, but this new dawn
Hyacinth and lily on still waters prevail
Wisdom beyond peevish Solomon
The dumb's secret with the deaf is saved
Yet life's candle burns so brief
When hand well-nigh grasped of joy's garment
And all deeds seems reasoning without
Ringing out effigees of great days gone
"So dicephalous art the passage of life
Paradoxical grace of sinful Israelites
O Wilderness of sin!
Two sides defining a coin
So shall man wade this river called life
Coursing, perhaps, from Babylon to Zion
Reluctantly from Egypt to Cannan
Where people that had forsaken sin
Would find solace seeing it again"
I would rather this exodus was never born.
(Afolayan Abolarin)
Categories:
peevish, africa, allusion, irony,
Form:
Idyll (Idyl)
Buxom blonde, eyelashes long
Cabaret singer
Belting out a bawdy song
She’s a dead ringer
Pure sex too
For 50’s lounge singer
Sensual boobs, wig so thick
My most calm boy
Made up in drag, an easy trick
Full of easy joy,
So whoop-dee-doo
And ships ahoy!
Surprising he,
Someone says “you look rather whorish”,
Delighting me
I hate to be peevish or boorish,
But this is drag life in a flourish….
Written: 4-27-2019
Contest: Quirky Tercets
Type: Terza Rima
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Categories:
peevish, fun, funny, hilarious, humor,
Form:
Terza Rima
"...Dominus orationem meam suscepit."
Burning his little jelly bottom raw,
He blisters in his liquid greenish poop.
He has no means to summon us at all
To drain the acid swamp of split pea soup.
Except to scream, a peevish infant yawp,
And so he screams, until we take his goop.
We modestly subserve our son's ejecta.
Clean, dry and warm: his everyday trifecta.
He's not alone. I've had my days of burning.
Blistered and raw, to salve my hurt I prayed
for balm from God, ultimately learning
His summit lay on far too steep a grade.
Footless in His scree, inflamed with yearning,
My wounds combusted into wrath. I brayed
My blasphemies, then heard the Logoi fall.
I had no means to summon Him at all.
Which births a trailing thought about the sainted:
Their whispered prayers, their worshipful reclusion,
Which all the hagiographers have painted.
Don't buy it. Souls corroded with confusion,
Their love of God with hatred wholly tainted,
And Doubt the only friend to their seclusion,
With blasphemies they burnt the fetid air.
Profanation is the purest form of prayer.
Categories:
peevish, religion,
Form:
Ottava rima