Best Pity Poems
Looking through my tainted window of gloom
grey skies, rain falling, feeling sorrow
impatiently wanting life to resume,
will things change, get better tomorrow,
sure that grass was greener the other side,
not walking a mile in your well trod shoes
now ashamed looking for somewhere to hide
didn't realise how easily I would bruise,
underestimate this feeling of loss
an unidentifiable man anymore
floundering like a wounded albatross,
indecent intentions, now I deplore
apologises are unheard, your not here
didn't know how so much I loved you dear.
I just realized here I am looking down on myself. Literally living off my own self-pity.
Drowning myself with my memories of all the people who have hurt me .I was literally
sitting in a pool of my own self-pity. Me that’s all I seem to think about. I spent so much
time just thinking of things to drown myself with and reasons why the hole world should fell
sorry for me. I realize I seem to have forgotten why people wonted to hurt me. It was
because all my life I took on a role of protecting people. The very people who later turned
there backs on me. Everything I went though was for a good cause. I was standing up for
people who had long lost there own voices. I protected them and I built them up. I stood with
them and sometimes when it got hard I carried them though it. Now that I remember I can
hold my head up high and live my life with now knowing that if I could go back in time I
would change nothing.
In tears that feign to be a slave with deeds
That mourn my life and ousts the face of peace
These sad bells ring with cries for now I grieve
And bow my head because I cannot cease
I choose the weight of ton and gloom of ache
To lay in watch to mark the clock rush slow
The pang of rail, the strike of steel to take
With one foot in the pit of grave songs woe
The sun has but to trade the dark to light
But lost and fixed its loft clings far too high
As cold and cloud have barred such smiles from sight
To breach this heart so meek with sad lost cries
Bound and caged it has penned my last good bye
To spare this heart in dread to spurn or die
December 28, 2020
Addiction Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Rob Levasseur
N/A 1-18-1021
I just had a heart to heart
With my friend the moon
Says he misses the two of us
And wonders what became of me and you
Says he misses the both of us
On our nightly strolls up lovers lane
Of course he misses us more at night
But still knows you're not around during the day
He asked me if there was a chance
That we'd get back together soon
You know I would hate to disappoint
My good friend the moon
Told me he misses when we took
Those walks along the beach
And that he's the one that kept the tide
Just within our reach
Also that he shown his moonlight
To bring your beauty out at every glance
The moon he really wants to know
If you'd give us a second chance
He'd love for us to try and work it out
By myself my life has not a clue
If you don't think you could do it for me
Please have pity on the moon
Taking that heart for granted, he's got alot of nerve,
In her heart she knows he does not deserve,
He rides his pity train just to get attention,
He uses and manipulates, all for his own intentions,
Does not know a thing about love, yet he cries his lonesome tune,
I'm sure I'm not the only one who's heard him chime the blues,
Blames his pain on everyone else, yet he makes his own bed,
He has forgotten what love is in his own narcissistic head,
He makes excuses for everything to cover up the truth,
He constantly tries to make you at fault for things he'll say n do,
He'll sweet talk you and make you feel like your the only one,
And turn around and backstab you, evil runs in his blood,
He preys upon the good hearted because he lacks the love they have,
To make himself feel better and not take responsibility for being bad,
He'll come back around and blame himself, just so you'll feel sorry for him,
The truth of the matter is its a revolving door because he'll do it all over again,
I'm not asking for a world of pain, and your abuse with me ends now,
The only way out of his own mess is to learn to love himself,
Oh, he'll tell you he deserves better, but that's his ego speaking,
He talks in the third person, even to himself, but that's really not what he's believing,
For if control is not under his wing, he's lost all sense of self,
And when he loses that feeling of control, he uses and hurts everyone else.
Harlot rides the scarlet colored beast,
"the rich, fat cats having a feast.”
Come now ten horns of ten fables
Loose the yokes of uneven gables
Babylon, Babylon the great
Ten nations shall furnish your plate
Mystery Babylon the great
Economic icon is greed’s mate
Mother of all mothers the harlot
Bloody wars ride beast colored scarlet
Scarlet beast borne econ harlot
Waste the city, the econ starlet
Two pillows, of knees bowed low
Beneath ashen face has lost its glow
The Caterpillars’ hum has ceased
The new city shall weep for peace
For one day in a month in a year
A sign shall appear in a sphere
Those that sigh, shall understand
Fled into many mountains stand
False liberty is of God forsaken
Prepare for this rude awakening
False pie in the sky is too high
Still, fat cats ask the poor to comply
===================
Written 10/10/2011
Pity my city
I pity my city there is no dignity in this city
There is no justice no freedom
Street children in a locked hall, shocking
County council overworking
The city must be clean so some humans are garbage
Some are cabbage, the garbage pay the damage
No houses sleep on spillage
But there are human rights
There are human right activists
There is the department of justice
All filled with malice
Pockets practice
Gross malpractice
Injustice, silence
You are in court
Guilty of court contempt
Another charge
The bail or the sentence
I’m bailed out in silence
Next time just bring your presence
Retain your silence
I was told
You will be safe.
My phone is gone, my shirt is torn
No bus fare so I walk alone
I think a lot, go back home or not
I remember I am a poet
I write a poem, a paradox
Pain in the city
I pity my city there is no dignity in my city.
Never what I came for
Likewise not what I prepared for
To be robbed by those I voted for
I am not happy anymore
My city is no more
I don’t wish for more
I just want go
not the city I know.
not where I wanted to grow
cartels make us bow
Now, now, now, it is time.
Time to know I am grown
And carry always my identity card
The men in blue are out bad
And always never forget also to carry ‘kitambulisho ya polisi’
Hawa watu ni mabeast na mafisi, human hyenas
time to tie up my seat belt whenever in a matatu,
sina mia tano ya kulipa coti kila saa na sitaki kulala ndani siku tatu
two days I am locked up inside my own head
spinning spinning, my thoughts are dead
the life so far I have led
no step has been made
no journey finished
No house furnished
Time is running and broke is sickening
My heart is listening, my brain is calculating
I have to act quick, just do something
The weather so good for chilling, but bad for singles
Life is unfair
No dream has been real
No love to heal
No feel
No deal
Just the bill
More and more bills
The city is fattening
Wanjiku is sickening
From Nys to health to Tunnels
It is all on the channels
How they on the seat eat
Meat
The citizen kitty is gone
The city is torn
Get the president on the phone
Call the press, what must be done be done
Impunity will not rule this city
Dignity must be restored
This city no more a pity
Bring back the citizen kitty
Say no more
The city.
Echoes of days gone by
Dreams once held high
Disgrace now fills that space
Desolate ...
Of all the roads to choose
A dead end
As we pass around the bend
A chosen thrill
As you came in for the kill
Every Man Has Free Will
Pity....
I had the decorations each hung up there to see,
The music I had chosen was in the minor key.
The lighting was quite special--not bright, but very dim
To greet each one who came there as they came walking in.
I sent out invitations to everyone I knew
Each printed in plain letters on paper colored blue.
I sat there now just waiting for the first ones to show,
So sure that to my party so many want to go.
But I sat there so lonely, and full of bitter tears
That in my pity party no one had joined me here.
And now as I sat sulking in my dark room alone
With no one there to join me to hear me cry and moan,
I didn’t enjoy my party like I was sure I would;
If only others joined me, I thought it would be good.
But as I opened letters of their RSVP,
And I read all their reasons they could not be with me,
It seemed they had their problems much greater than my own,
They didn’t want my party where I would make mine known.
Then came that final letter, a page of golden hue
That seemed to come from heaven or somewhere beyond the blue.
It was a simple picture: a man upon a tree,
So beaten and so bloody, not a nice sight to see.
His outstretched hands were held there by two old rusty nails,
And crowds below were watching; with voices they did rail.
I cried then as I saw Him bear all my pain and sin
And asked Him to forgive me and bring me peace within.
Then, as I prayed, my party seemed such a waste and sham
As I thought about that Savior, God’s precious, dying lamb.
I changed the decorations, the music now was bright,
The room that once was dismal now shone with brilliant light.
My pity party’s over; come now, my friends, and see
What this great, precious Savior did for a soul like me!
Somehow you flew in and hid
Right under my toilet lid
Ouite sure you were dead
'Little pest!' I said
Pity the poor Katydid!
Saw a leg twitch, God forbid
Guess what I done-gone-and-did?
'Okay, my green lass
Go die in the grass'
Pity the poor Katydid!
*** Katydids are harmless bright green insects with large wings in the cricket-grasshopper family
There's no party for pity.
Question the absurdity.
Friends, use discretion
if you get an invitation.
It's counterfeit.
Don't believe it.
Don't RSVP,
if you receive it.
Discard immediately. Don't contemplate.
It'll lead you nowhere. Don't save the date.
No early, late, or on time arrivals.
The doorbell is silent.
No lively dinner guests,
dressed in their best.
No hors d'oeuvres served on a fancy plate.
No thought-provoking conversations.
No guestbook to sign.
No vintage wine.
No catered food.
No live music for the mood.
No celebration for pity's pains.
No "congratulations," for complaints.
There's no party here. Discard the invitation.
Pity's alone, in bitter contemplation.
Another blissful day in the darkness
Forced to be here against our wishes
Dragged into your chosen nightmare of happiness
Blinded by my heartfelt kisses
I guess it was fun for you when I didn't know
Juggling became your sport
You never thought you would get caught
On that day,Everything you stood for be came Naught
What can I do?
My brethren - Dank. We are
not fit to wipe the asses of
these sons of the star of David -
and yet, we crush their horrid
corpsed lives beneath Nazi-issued
boots. We want to live, too.
Say I actually approach my
officer, pout, give him my best
spiel, if you will. His hand will
grope the trigger faster than the
breasts of his sweetheart in
Barrack Neun during a roll call
hooky.
So I plug my rounds,
rotate a new traincar through
every Montag and Freitag.
And when I sit down to table
with the uniformed prison guards,
I take an extra drink -
and drink to forget.
This poem appears online at http://wordsareaneed.blogspot.com/2014/07/pity-me-or-on-second-thought-dont.html.
Last night I met an old boxer in an alley of cardboard; he seemed glad to see me,
shouted me over for a fight, I told him ‘Hey mate, I’m not in your league’
‘Young man.’ He said with glint of victory in his solid brown eyes. ‘That’s alright,
I suppose you’re going to leave cos the forecast is for rain, you in your fine mansion, mine here, just a bloody pain. But then I guess, that’s okay for a foolish old tramp.’
lonesome sadness blues
through the lips of the city…
the eyes are windows
He told me ‘What’s the price of glory if one is shackled to the past. Even my wife left me, took my purse in pursuit of another man. To think I really loved her, gave her all that I could, the witch hankered for the final count, then left me where I stood’ He rambles on discursively ‘One day I’ll roam within my native Devon, where I’ll chase those illusive dreams back into heaven. Its years of abusing whisky years of perpetual hoar frosts that hones this savage beast.’
this fight on its knees
many blind eyes a mismatch…
all have a story
‘How do you think I feel in these chains of formal sorrow, replaying each vintage year each round like no tomorrow, each morning still, I count the homeless, watch the van collect the corpse. Man, I need a second chance to come out gamely fighting, repay life’s referee, society the uninviting.’
incompatible
metabolism a stray…
unfriendly advice
His bottle runs dry, his words begin to wound. Here, In God’s own country left high wide and marooned. Yet like the mortal flame he submits to the desolate night, the municipal van empowered to administer the ultimate rite. No dawn able to invigorate leaves this empty feeling in me, only the morning dew edulcorates while a soul in hell is set free.
careful where you tread
mats to wipe one’s feet upon…
look down you may see
Entered sponsor Mark Toney's 2022 Marathon 19
poem converted from free verse to haibun 2022
3/11/2022
There were two homeless, pity friends.
Lets called one of them, say so,- "Fred".
One day, "Armani" suit Fred found in the dump,
But Fred was not conceited, as I would done.
This means, that not always, a sudden wealth
Corrupted people. Not, at all, always!