Best Persecute Poems
Sometimes, reflections from my mirror,
recall when I slumbered at nature's nadir,
as naysayers whispered in whiskey breaths.
Bewildered, I wandered in the wilderness,
until the mercy of verse reversed the curse.
Poetry you've always been the legacy of my heritage,
a shimmering nimbus, where my words reside by petals,
but if this was my last poem,
it would be the death of an alchemist's magic.
There would be no potion to persecute my pain,
bleeding ink of wounds would have no quill mistress.
Yet, I yearn to leave evidence of my existence,
but my narration is not as lucid as
black pigment upon white pages,
because poetic colours have their own stories.
I'm tired from hiding behind idioms,
where metaphors drip in liquid lies,
veiled within tracing lines of heartbreak.
Whilst sleeping under cherry blossom trees,
I look back upon my life wondering
what purpose summons us,
as I've lost all faith in strange dreams coming true.
I've grown up surrounded by the scent of sorrow,
forsaken in seasonal spheres of fragility,
masticating upon mourning morsels,
adorning garlands of grief soaked in rainfall,
plundering like the tears of Earth,
but even when confusion composed its cruelty,
I fought back to rise, each time I fell.
There has always been pressure
from the heavyweight of darkness,
where I screamed songs of desperation,
as lamenting lyrics resembled emotions of a falling star.
When the breeze blew away the confetti of my stardust,
my heart remained like unblossomed florets -
so I became my own poetic gardener
and planted my own blooms.
Sins of humanity plague me into a withering leaf,
turning invisible, softly settling in sinister silence.
I search for a Godforsaken garden,
where my hands can heal fruitless soil.
Poetry, nobody feels like you,
yet, it's you I sacrifice, before my heart clasps,
as the soul sinks in ideologies of faith and fate.
I can't justify shadows with excuses from expression,
I'm letting go of bitter reflections from photographs.
as it's time to heal the scars from my bloody hands.
Wishing to remain quenched, but drenched in love,
so fate can prepare a grave for my sorrows.
I can't waste time wondering if I'll be remembered,
so, I wave goodbye, floating away like a feather,
executing the articulation of my senses.
Categories:
persecute, angst,
Form:
Free verse
1.
Why do we persecute this Jesus?
this Palestinian Jew, with claim
to one almighty God?
Ahh! let me home, it’s all too
much, and no avail.
so I Longinus, leader of Pilate’s guard,
which nailed him up, (he never complained)
gave him up, his broken body to his
mother and the crowd; Oh! pitiful
crying and moaning, gnashing of teeth
in their pious, bloody grief
yet….he spoke to me, this Arab, this Jew,
with his eyes, he looked resolute and calm:
and a smile (aghast!) he had for me.
and the earth trembled and shook;
afraid;
they loved him the many, I could see,
and I spoke out loud the words that I
believed, that he was real, and one with
he above!
and they looked at me, my men, and scowled,
ahh!...who are they to know?
and time and days passed. And I deserted:
2.
and I took on the garb of wanderer, so as to
be free, and sensed a great commotion;
“he’s back!. He’s never dead!”
and I was led by disciples’ horny hands, for they
knew me now, to a tomb, gaping hole and door-stone
rolled aside.
and they shouted “where is he? where’s the master?”
and a passing storm became a torrent and the rivers
swelled and the winds blew their strong wind,
and took away the grave’s harsh stink: then as
quickly as it had begun, a sound like the rumble
of a quake, split the sky and sunlight, warmed
and dried the earth around.
and there the master in shining white,
fresh with neat trimmed beard, as if out
for a walk with kith and kin, came.
and up on a mountain we followed to the
top, and he spoke; but because of the great
clamor all about him, I could only catch a
few words,
“make new disciples,” “ teach” and something
about him always being with us.
and then (I tell no lie)…his body took up to the
warm sky, with flowing robes and a choir of heavenly
verse, the likes of which I had never heard.
and he was gone.
3.
and I taught his words, for some time after; and each
time I spoke I felt grown; and so, I lived my life:
but not for long; and soon I took his place and bid
the sorry world, this place, a painful goodbye.
and when next I saw his smile, his tearful foreign
eye; I swelled; and went to his side:
and he placed his hand in mine.
Categories:
persecute, jesus, , cute,
Form:
Free verse
We are the children
of the Four
A wandering race
The leaves, trees
and streams feed us
The earth, water and
winds sustain us
We belong to no man
A race so
complicated
You talk about us
with hushed voices
From behind your
hands
Always looking down
The idea of us so
precious
You don't deserve us
Never looking in our
eyes
As though the simple
mention of us will
bring you conflict
Our women so
beautiful
Seeing them leaves
the vision in your
head for days
So you look away
From our mystical,
regal creatures
As we are the
children of the
forests, rivers and
dessert
The snow in the
north
We have always been
We have always
existed
You gave us our name
It was never your
right
You called us
gypsies
You look at us and
see aluminium homes
Your curious eyes
scanning our sites
Picking up on the
old battered cars
Camp fires and dirt
Nomads fighting with
black eyes
Traveling through
these lands
You do not see our
beauty
As you are not
children of the air
A race so loyal like
thunder and lighting
Inside our homes
lives a love so vast
and thick
You can scoop it up
and eat it
It feels like candy
floss
Smells like Apple
blossom
We a deadly
protective race
Taught from years of
persecution
We learnt to only
live with our own
Wandering through
life
Never having a home
When we burned, fire
was so angry
Our ash turned to
snow flakes
The wind was so
distraught
Our ash fluttered
over holy ground
Settled on the
barren
We grew a paradise
Earth was so hurt
you took her
children
For you paradise
will be forever out
of reach
Teasing you
Just before it's in
your grasp
The ocean washes it
away
Burning us made
water scream
You had killed the
children of the Four
We don't expect to
be understood
Our wisdom lays too
deep
The Nazis didn't
just kill and
persecute the Jewish
souls
They killed us too
Put your nose in the
air
Just so
You can still smell
us on the wind
Categories:
persecute, death, holocaust, , cute,
Form:
Free verse
in a dusty old Amsterdam attic
Anne Frank finds refuge
outside the menacing Gestapo
seeks wordsmiths to persecute
Anne adds another page to her diary
memories of Frankfurt
blurred by pains of hunger and fear
her pursuits tempt Gestapo
if Anne played an instrument or sang opera
She’d be saved merely to entertain
fear makes her a prisoner of the pen
starving artists in hiding leaning on each other
seeking strength to continue
but Anne is alone
are more souls needed for the death camps
must writers trade pens for weapons
late is the hour as Anne's eyes strain to stay open
as she drifts off, the attic’s doorknob turns
Categories:
persecute, cute, fear, history, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
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:
persecute, nature, anger, me, rights,
Form:
Free verse
And so it is, that both the Devil and the angelic Spirit present us with objects of desire to awaken our power of choice. There is an invisible strength within us; when it recognizes two opposing objects of desire, it grows stronger.
Rumi
Weeds persecute the gardens of my mind,
bad seeds are instigators for the unkind,
so, I plant vibrant petals for tomorrow,
did you know blossoms can feel sorrow?
I support them to bloom in delicate silence,
but strange paranoia is a relic of violence.
It hurts when withheld wounds are exposed,
life is better when I keep my eyes closed.
Should I apologise for my sullen demeanor,
so they can misjudge and become meaner?
I've become a misunderstood metaphor,
in a world of words not understood before.
I'm not an angelic devil nor a sinful saint,
but sense of shame is like polluted paint.
I'm tired from deadly brain sucking vampires,
draining my reservoir of peaceful empires.
Will it ever dawn upon the ignorant,
if I could turn back time it would be different.
In childhood we painted our faces on stars,
some looked for Venus, but I preferred Mars.
How we followed a colourful spectrum's shadow,
wondering if rain flows along the rainbow.
But in time imagination loses it's power,
we expire like dead seeds and forget to flower.
Is the pantomime of pain I've endured not plenty?
Can guilt bleed me dry, until all my sins empty?
Set me free from confines of jilted desire,
release me from burning in regret's bonfire.
Madness of my muse will never disown me.
In this hell I smile, as I still have my poetry.
Categories:
persecute, analogy, emotions, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
Very silently step by step
In the dark it slowly crept
Until one day, to my surprise
The world I knew, I could not recognize
Little bits first then big ole pieces
Before you are aware, the world you know ceases
Never did I gave it a single thought
A glimpse of the end was all I caught
I took it for granted; am I to blame
Thought it would always stay the same
Eventually I decided to join in
With feet first, I jumped in the din
Kill the cops; behead the innocent
Persecute the holy, pay up for the indolent
None of these things sounded right to me
I found, I tried, I could not be
What can be done; I do not know
But where it is heading, I cannot go
Categories:
persecute, change, violence, world, ,
Form:
Rhyme
There was a little boy so blue
amongst the pain of life he grew
He wondered where he'd be one day
so Satan helped to lead the way
He longed to walk home in the sun
but evil forces made him run
The Fallen Angel's sick revenge
was to employ children to avenge
He made those bullies cruel
"persecute this child to - and - from school"
No one to trust to teach him well
so evil led his pride to swell
There was a little girl as well
who grew up in a different hell
She was abandoned by her mom
her life was anything but calm
She was adopted by a rigid pair
but she longed for love and truth to share
Nobody seemed to fit the mold
consumed with lies that she was told
Satan also grabbed this chance
she ran through life without a glance
A player she could not commit
her soul-mate had to be legit
Now he's my husband I am his wife
I finally took that chance in life
For I was ready to forgive
but he had never learned to live
How ironic that these two should meet
I'm ready to ground he runs in defeat
Now here I sit back at the start
while my "soul-mate's" going to break my heart
He's still a runner and I'm here to stay
two people can't grow if one is this way
He promised his soul to me
but I am still one in this unity
Categories:
persecute, bullying, evil, husband, mystery,
Form:
Couplet
Jaimin sir, a kind man, with smile cute,
Prepared for supporting me in lawsuit
Is ready to fight against any odd acute;
Managing school and university with astute.
In the premises everyone does salute!
Revered for his perseverance which dilute
All miseries, anxieties and commute
Joyfully with him in leisure to compute
Your mistakes and victories that overshoot.
All liked him for his ability to refute.
Grumped man speaks cool like flute
Under omnipresence, one who does hoot
Ruins his own impression and does salute;
Unacceptable people do get execute
Surely; teachers like me are with parachute
Inspired by him to remove Prafulla persecute,
Remove such drastic elements for institute.
Categories:
persecute, friendship, inspiration, inspirational, ,
Form:
Monorhyme
People whom are haters, better love mercy
People who rape women and children
People who steal for false prosperity
Like minded sinners filling up hell
People whom are murderers, better love mercy
People who abuse elder seniors better love forgiveness
People who mistreat animals is it true all dogs go to heaven
What chance does a sinner man have
When he's an atheist
And what about those who fondle and rape children
Who persecute those less fortunate
What about the one who shoots the guns
Wounding and killing at random
What about the adulterer, and fornicator
People who rape women and children
People who steal for false prosperity
Evil men dictators
Evil thoughts coming from us
And God once repented Himself that He made man
For you see we are sinful and dammed
Evil monarchs, kings and rulers
Whom cheat, lie, be ill-human--sub human
Dictators, Kings, Presidents
Evil men dictators
Evil thoughts coming from us
All shame, all sin
Are you all out or all in
Repent now, did I leave off something
Every knee shall bow, every tongue confess
That Jesus is Lord, so if I barely make it I better...better love mercy
Just in case I scarcely make it in
With all my sins, all my repentance, I better love grace
12/13/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018 ©
Categories:
persecute, appreciation, blessing, desire, encouraging,
Form:
Free verse
Take My Hand Not My Life
Life special moments of splendors
Smoldering away like embers
Silently yearning to be wanted
But always undesired
~
Take my hand not my life
~
Tolerate me don't persecute me
I will work and support myself and family
just so I won't go back to the human abuse
I exist in perpetual fear
of detection and deportation.
~
Little innocent babe's lurks behind
For the wonderful feelings
of being united in oneness
Instead of random denial
~
S pirit
T ends
I n
L eading
L ives
E nlighten
X enagogue
I mpowers
S elfless
T ruth
Unity of our souls gives us courage and strength
Xenagogue = a guide
Free Verse and Acrostic
Categories:
persecute, abuse, immigration,
Form:
Free verse
HE STRUGGLE
Heated walls Suffocating air
Warm bed sheets
Soft, steaming pillow.
Prickly heat, Trickling sweat
Crossed midnight, exhausted body
The cock’s crow disturbed my rest
Need to rush to the field ,
For the day’s bread.
That’s the life of a poor man.
The rich have a life
Just contrary to it. How do you feel?
They hold one, a pot-belly.
Beer and whisky
Fatty special for a bulky body
Persecute the vehicle,
They often travel
Unlimited consumption
Air-conditioned bed rooms
Soft beds with fitting companions
Rich and poor, you need
Only six feet of soil.
What do you say?
Categories:
persecute, anxiety, change, conflict, depression,
Form:
Free verse
Perfection, is an evil lord
demanding ever greater tribute,
it wields a sharp and heavy sword
that pierces deep to persecute
I fear this liege, this graven image
there's no resistance to his wants;
no will, nor the amount of courage
can protect me from his evil taunts
Forgiveness, I may grant to all,
no act's too grave or sin's too much
and yet, no matter however small,
I dare not grant myself as such
Idealized, I must not fail
this thought's so manifestly flawed;
and yet, it does but so assail
my heart, my mind... my God
Categories:
persecute, pain, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
We are the unsung heroes of the predawn light.
No we may never have fought in a great war,
or saved a soul from the snapping jaws of death.
People wave to us, but few know who we are
and most on a good days run could care less.
Like the organ grinder's monkey from days of old,
we have been repeatedly trained to do a task.
We do a job few would even consider doing
and most would not even attempt to try.
A job burdened with ever growing responsibility
due to the minutia of a ever expanding bureaucracy.
A grossly undervalued, underappreciated profession
designated part-time by thoughtless administrations
that mouth how important we all are once a year
only to persecute us for every trifling thing later.
If you are lucky enough to survive a number of years
without resigning or becoming a sacrificial lamb
on the altar of a fearful self serving public face,
you will get a tiny pension for your devoted service.
We are the unsung heroes of the predawn light.
The tolerant souls that routinely put up with
a few rude demanding manipulative parents
and their insolent misbehaving little darlings
just to be able to serve the greater majority
of decent well meaning thoughtful parents
and the precious treasures of tomorrow
they have temporarily entrusted to us.
Like a hamster running on a little wheel,
we go around in circles every single day,
but unlike the hamster we must summon
every instinct and learned skill to insure
every turn we make is executed flawlessly.
We are kept aloft on our spinning wheel
by the deliberate hands of a caring heart
and the many small souls seated behind us
that come to trust us not to make a mistake.
We are the one person in their little lives
that are not allowed to ever let them down
for neither of us may be able to live with it.
We are their school bus drivers...
Categories:
persecute, care, children, work, ,
Form:
Free verse
Moneylender
You were rejected by your fellow man
A pound of flesh to heal your wounded pride
A just reward for squelching on a loan
Your hatred toward these men-- I understand
Burns deeply in your heart and it resides
You were rejected by your fellow man
They bully you, so now you take a stand
Measured by Scale of Justice you supplied
A just reward for squelching on a loan
You make an honest living, better than
The ones who cruelly mock; cast them aside
You were rejected by your fellow man
Losing your daughter, ducats and your land
Upon the law of God you have relied
A just reward for squelching on a loan
To write you off as evil was the plan
They persecute and fool you with derides
A pound of flesh to heal your wounded pride
A just reward for squelching on a loan
Categories:
persecute, dedication
Form:
Villanelle