Best Rebukes Poems
Under Moldy Soil, Red Moon Overhead
Under moldy soil, red moon overhead
lay millions of corpses, wars wasted dead
No bands playing, no sweet angels singing
only ghostly echoes, slowly ringing.
Cools winds blowing across such resting grounds
on dark nights, ghost-whispers its only sounds
Low moans, raging regrets of battle cries
rebukes of those that sold such deadly lies.
Sixth of June, sands give up soft wailing pleas
from beach desert devoid of any trees
Earth laced with spent cartridges , red blood and lead
painful memories, of that war's lost dead.
Under moldy soil, red moon overhead
how we may wish that peace had ruled instead.
R.J. Lindley
June 7th, 1976
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 102
Old Note- War is a necessary evil because mankind needs blood letting to soothe its savage soul.
And thus, is far too often a necessary reaction that insures the survival for the party that is first attacked.
New Notes-
1. SLIGHTLY EDITED TODAY TO MEET TEN SYLLABLE COUNT ONLY.
2. Mankind can not give up making war until it can purge ALL evil from its mortal soul!
Only one way to do that exists..
3. I want to thank the poet that suggested that I go ahead and share this poem from my private writes.
As it deserves to be read, I now agree with you my good friend..
Categories:
rebukes, art, conflict, dark, death,
Form:
Sonnet
If I ruled the world I'd paint it mostly blue,
Spiders would build the finest webs - I'd decree the morning dew,
Auroras would shimmer above the poles, their colors ringing true,
Those would follow my first thought, "Good grief! What will I do?"
Puppies would be off to run and romp, kittens added to the chases,
Mountains, deserts and oceans - set down in law as special places,
The red kite's ride, the jaguar's stride, moon and trees within their races,
The sable's fur, the cheetah's purr, we'd acknowledge such given graces,
And I'd praise the honored beauty in elderly people's faces.
Wind would dance across the sand, long waves would come ashore,
Unfair rebukes and tactical nukes - do we need this stuff anymore?
Graceful herds would move around the Serengeti plain,
I'd reach across the ocean, try to lessen my good friend's pain.
I'd find the key to hardened hearts,
To quell our many tribal wars,
Diplomatic smarts and peaceful arts,
Those things I'd underscore.
No more homeless, evermore - from that they would be free,
(I'd live with the skepticism that we could ever all agree.)
I'd want to know all the poets, every poet that can be,
To never miss the poetry, it's in every soul, you see.
24 February 2017
Categories:
rebukes, humanity, love, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Draped over the land like a ghostly shroud,
a blanket of morning mist
morphs into rolling banks of fog;
soft as an eider-filled duvet.
Dawn rebukes Night's claim to darkened skies
and armed with chisels of light
sculpts ebony shadows
into shifting shapes,
sent scurrying into nooks and crevices.
Sleeping sounds slowly awaken;
giving voice to Nature,
as a scarlet sun silently shimmies up a crimson sky.
Pink, indigo, and blue hues
flow over an ebony canvas of stars and moon;
as color emerges from Sol's first light.
And a bashful breeze blows silhouettes into disarray;
etch-a-sketching a brand-new day.
Categories:
rebukes, 10th grade, 9th grade,
Form:
Imagism
O’ to fade! To pass! To rest! To die!
To ponder, to listen
and not forebode -
you were as a thresher to the chaff
and the driven wind
that winnowed.
The thunderclap of Tawhiri raging
silence not a loving
fool’s complaint,
nor portend for whom the bell tolls
when the echoes
of time grow faint
My heart alas divided against itself
knows not what to say
or what to feel,
and with ponderous words recited
I return your resting
place to kneel.
Some final absolutions shared alone -
cold black rain upon
my brow and cuff.
Judge not a froward son - I am who
I am, and have
been judged enough
We are but the quick and the dead,
and just or unjust
no keeper of time.
O tell, what sin was imputed to you?
What concealed divine
law or crime?
And what burden so dark the lamps
of Heaven and Earth
burn less bright?
I ask do we in this realm find peace
or is death’s victory
our only respite?
Only in beds of posthumous sleep
will end my
unspoken confessions.
Nay, I no longer exhume the past -
it rebukes all my
searching questions.
From umbilical dawn to end of days
I failed you - I added
unto your woe.
In life and death there comes a time
when to hold on
and when to let go
May your life and times early passed
live on in the heart
that lives in me,
for in all the silent screams below
is my own howl
in my own vanity.
As I pen my verse the charcoal sky
again rumbles softly
over a distant knell.
No loss, no sorrow, no love unwept
can unring that
fearful tolling bell
Written: July 1991
Categories:
rebukes, anniversary, death,
Form:
Rhyme
The Bishops bathe in Babylon
while Princes, prancing on the lawn,
watch Queen deflowered, pale and wan.
The King dares not defend her.
The Horsemen, holding broken reins
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
sigh “it’s no use, it’s all in vain,
the Saints will soon surrender”.
They wonder why they ever came,
they have No One whom they can blame,
they have no face, they have no name,
and even less, a gender.
The empty-handed Vagabonds
smoke stale cigars, stroke faded Blondes
while waiting at the walls beyond,
but kneel as Chaos enters.
They’re gazing through the window panes
in hopes that distant Hurricanes
will twist and break their iron chains
defying life’s tormentors.
The Fantom of the Opera frowns
as feeble minded Cleric-clowns
mouth hollow hurdy-gurdy sounds
when blessing doomed dissenters.
The Pirate wields a wooden leg,
with pupils dull and visage vague,
and if by chance he spreads the plague,
it really doesn’t matter.
His Princess, pale, no longer feigns,
foresees instead (down ancient lanes)
the coming of the Hurricanes -
the Stones stir, staring at her.
And Jackals scrape the river bed
as Savants soothe the underfed
and Crows, collecting scattered bread,
adorn, with crumbs, the platter.
The Jokers Wild and One Eyed Janes
weep, winding up in rundown trains
mid whispers of the Hurricanes,
and Priests refuse to christen.
They’re fleeing from the Leprechauns,
the cuckoo birds, the dying swans;
while pitching pennies into ponds
their eyes opaquely glisten.
The spectral Clocks with spindled spokes
remind the Mimes to tell the Folks
the time of day and other jokes,
yet No One looks to listen.
The Hunchbacks with contorted canes
galumph before the Hurricanes,
in melted sleet, in frozen rains,
in bruised and battered sandals.
Their Groans engulf the land of gulls,
the land of stones, the land of nulls,
and lurk between the blackened lulls,
for Nighttime brooks no candles.
Their prayers to Dogs and Nuns and Dukes,
(and other long forgotten Spooks)
are more than random crazed rebukes,
though taunting to the Vandals.
Continued in Part 2
Categories:
rebukes, fantasy, morning,
Form:
Rhyme
I am free to choose where I plant my feet,
to ramble down the path and into the sun
In the orange columns cast by lamps on the street
crouch saddened people who have received none.
I am free to choose the order of the words,
whether they roll off my tongue or into my ears
From outside come spilling the songs of birds
They know nothing of chains; they have no fears.
I am free to choose the title of my poem
and embroider each letter with colors my own
Each man’s tale is not for men to condemn
Only One can reveal seeds the Devil has sown.
So I refuse to choose between silver and gold
I shun all the idols flesh and blood have made
The world passes, time paints masks of old
Slowly, slowly, the mist is beginning to fade.
I refuse to choose the gaping wide river
that asks for an ink heart, rebukes true faiths
The current is noisy, with a cold, secret shiver –
its lukewarm waters swarming with wraiths.
I refuse to choose between Father and Son
for one is the radiance of the other’s glory
There is only one path I am entitled to run
with joy, for I trust He who is writing my story.
Categories:
rebukes, devotion, faith
Form:
Quatrain
VANISHED
We are the echoing voices crying within the darkness,
Melting mists of vapor co-existing amongst the living,
The ambling drifters shifting between reality and limbo,
The vanished.
Displacement malfunction, the frozen chill in one’s space,
Happening without explanation, the corporal spirit sliding
In the temporal rift as if a doorway has opened then closes
With sudden forces slamming,
The vanished.
Running at full sails speed the ghostly ship hanging on the
Distant horizons cresting wave, the Bermuda Triangles curious
Answer, never revealed, a planes broadcasting its S.O.S. then
Nothing except statics silence, the walkers of historical significance,
Never heard from again except in dusty monologue’s ancient text,
The vanished.
Rebukes despised disposed by hatred lies of malice, the forgotten,
Yet we touch the living by the night’s lunar light, angers tortured
Languishing amidst the flames of hell’s fire, crying out for justice
But receiving only torment, silences footsteps heard amongst the
The land of the living,
The vanished.
Sacrifice’s vanished foe, given to the idle gods of the past,
Manipulations fallen solider who gave his life for what
He believed was a justified cause, the lost soul of the
Innocent that does not realize he lies in the kingdom
Of the diseased,
The vanished.
The crumbling ruined city, with its lingering residences,
Still haunting the abandon streets and venues of the past,
Do to tragedies misguidance, or alliances bomb shelled fortress
Torn apart and left to molten ash, these shadows of innocence
Remain, behold
The vanished.
The dead man’s sleep walker, emerging from his cryptic
Tomb, suddenly realizing it’s survived the end of the world,
But now he’s all alone, in isolations one celled chamber,
As the human ash cloud descends upon the last ma
On earth falls to his knees and screams out loud, why,
Dear God, why
The vanished.
Listen to the voices carried upon the wind,
It is the vanquished seeking answers without
Replies response, the weeping victims of time
Bang against our shutters windows, and knock
At the front doors of our souls, they will not
Be ignored,
Those vanished.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
rebukes, adventure, history, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
The Lyrical man of passion’s sacred song,
Gave his heart away to the Caribbean Queen,
In the fine crystal glasses of fine champion of desires lust,
Did he so drown, beneath the frothy waves of the tropical sun?
In the morning’s sweet rising, this poetic bard shed the tenderest
Of sun kissed tears, that melted in the heat of the hot horizons
Blazing oceanic dream.
Yet within this love sick heart he thus bleeds, eloping words
Of devotion from the farthest shores beyond, but the enchantress
Seductress dances the island waltz of the erotic, softly he sings
Unto this maiden tan and most fair, I’m here for thee, but
She does not hear the verses of this lyric man, passing him
By for a Jamaican band.
For no thumping drum, can beat the rheum of his heart,
Or the strumming of sensation’s that burn within his soul,
In raptures pleasure a raging voice echoes unto paradise
Lost, a thundering hurricanes proclamation, come home
To me my tropical princess, but in silences response,
Lies nothing except deafness silence, rippling across
The distant waves of sorrow.
What angel dethroned from heaven’s grace,
Caused loves sweet arrow to aim so wrongly,
Hitting this misaligned target dead on sight,
With regrets folly the only true outcome.
Oh do the island sirens so weep for him,
This Lyric man, who’s loving torch burns
Within the sands of pleasures betrayal.
Light as the feathers of angels does his
Song ring out, enchanting mermaids even
To rise from the fathoms deepest depth,
Splashing sea form at this temptress of
Faded illusions, yet still she responds
With empty sighs of rebukes disconnect.
He sits still on isolation's stage, playing
A melodies soft tune of lost eloquence,
This music man of thoughts passionate heart.
Silvery strains of diamond perils glisten upon
Briliances waves, shinning beneath the tropical
Sun, laying on top of the big blues surf, these
Are his tears of devotions everlasting love,
Connecting his heart to this his Caribbean Queen.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
rebukes, adventure, beauty, devotion, dream,
Form:
Free verse
People can claim all sorts of nonsense that love is unconditional, or should be. The bible itself does
not even make such a claim in the teachings of changing for God, changing to better man, changing
for oneself and changing to love another human being as properly called. Why does man feel that
something is owed to them when they have not proved their worthiness of love that is due? I am not
Jesus to just offer it like he does. Human beings need to be respected, loved and honored, and
showing some sort of courage for the human race.
I offer my love and tenderness openly to those who deserve it. That does not mean that I do not
care about their general well being or health, but I will not be made to feel guilty of lies being fed of
unconditional love that does not exist?
So your wife sits around and does not clean? Did you say "fine", let us live this way, who cares?
No, you did not. Conditions exist.
I will not buy into unconditional love, for even the bible rebukes such a fairy tale and pathetic
notion.
Categories:
rebukes, lovebible, bible, love,
Form:
Verse
I've recorded the song, which you can hear here:
I did vocals and guitar - Sung to the tune of "We Can Work it Out"
What a TV Show
American Idol
There’s so many loonies seeking fortune
and fame
But I’m suicidal
Paula Abdul’s gone and Ellen’s just not the same
What a tv show!
What a tv show!
Some of them have talent
Many more are fruitcakes who love to screech
and howl
Oh so brave and gallant
‘Til they’re subjected to the snide remarks of
Simon Cowell
What a tv show!
What a tv show!
For every Clay Aiken, 10,000 Sanjayas
Are making an awful sound
You’re much mistaken if your burning desire’s
To hear Larry sing “Pants on the Ground”
Can I find a reason
To withstand my co-workers gentle rebukes
Yet every season
I tune in for more zany crazy tone deaf kooks
What a tv show!
What a tv show!
For every Fantasia, 10,000 William Hungs
Eagerly wait in the wings
They’ll amaze ya, these delusional throngs
Tell me why do we enjoy such things?
American Idol
There’s a bunch of loonies seeking fortune
and fame
Think I need a Midol
Good or bad, next year we won’t remember their names
What a tv show!
What a tv show!
For John Heck's "Beatlemania" Contest - The Beatles "We Can Work it Out"
Categories:
rebukes, funnywork, work,
Form:
Lyric
O depression
In despair ,thou art give me refuge ,
To whom ,the world only rebukes ,
I have race of thoughts ,
Which the atmosphere has bought ,
In insecurity my feelings run,
In consolidation ,emotions shun,
Mind goes Helter skelter,
In search of peaceful shelter .
Mind gets full of pollution
Thoughts positive and negative in motion
Mind sets into traffic rush rush
With body responding to this Hush hush
Anxiety forcibly pops in
Depression says,"why did you drop in ?",
Handling all of you drains me
Sleepless nights in bed frame me
Restlessness accompanies me in bed
Weakness in all I have bred
Unexpectedly hope enters with love
Depression sighs ,"why thou art enter in this hullabaloo, .
Hope replies,"hey I'll recite a limerick from honolulu
In this atmosphere of anarchy
Let me exercise my monarchy
Thou art will be gifted
With a morale highly elevated
Shew away these fiery personalities ,
And thou will achieve all royalties
Of happiness ,peace and freedom ,
In my holy spirited Kingdom "
Categories:
rebukes, depression,
Form:
Personification
Knowledge is the key in this modern world
the truth can neither deceive nor be deceived
a fractured coil has so many errors to put right
very hard to know where to start or begin directing
powdering over them dusting every cobweb in years researching
My God as so big and so strong and so mighty
There is nothing my God cannot do
to be brutally honest from the heart existing
banks are now disguised as a country stealing wealth
I do not understand a vast majority of people these days
there is no point in beating around the bush with tender words
it feels like one has entered a different world filled with bitterness
everything revolves around hating something or someone
The silence is deafening when you use a bit of logic
anti social has used a net covering putting a blanket over facts
deeper and deeper they sink beneath human dignity
No respect for Wisdom challenging them to a debate without conflict
to learn is to be quick to listen when instructing the ignorant speaks with volume cowards
quite as a mouse then will begin to listen under troubled gnashing teeth
lost cursing is their only educated reply throwing a few blind personal words in reply of the subject
declaring war under radical terms examined without foundations
We cannot undo the past we need to fact check what lies ahead of us
St Agustine of Hippo said
People hate the Truth for the sake of whatever it is they love more than the truth
they love truth when it shines warmly on them and hate it when it rebukes them
Faith is to believe what you do not see
the reward of Faith is to see what you believe
Categories:
rebukes, blessing, christian, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
Resolutions
New Year’s resolutions
are meant to be broken
as soon as we realize
that deprivation and muscle strain
are not our natural state,
and that a comforted body
yields placidity of mind.
The Relationship
I can only think of you
with exasperation
at the challenging mix
of slick and stinging ways
that make you
my cactus.
The Passing of the Day
In the moment that sunlight shrivels
the day rebukes me
for wallowing in the known
and hiding in the comfortable,
for spurning those inappropriate,
and dodging alien ideas.
But the night reassures me,
with a recorded manifesto
that I already know by heart.
I can shutter my soul,
and face tomorrow’s day
knowing it will be unchanged.
Falling Away
Love is stepped cliffs
Of willingness to suffer.
Sheer drops from obsession to indifference.
The tiny mesa top holds less than a score
For whom I would give up my self.
Then a free fall to friends and relatives
Who are given affection and time
And a precipice further down
Acquaintances are doled out words.
And at chasm bottom are strangers
Who receive pro forma prayers and grudged money.
It’s impossible to love all of humanity
When I merely like myself.
Categories:
rebukes, allegory, confusion, depression, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
most are unusual some mundane ~ one logs in mostly to complain
most are encompassing some refrain ~ one writes rebukes sounding insane
most are sophisticated some quite plain ~ one adds nothing just distain
most are original some entertain ~ one seeds hatred, sounds in pain
most are orthodox some arcane ~ one solipsist rules their lone domain
most like contests some avoid fame ~ one says they’re meaninglessly inane
most are devout some go against the grain ~ one or two faves, all a game
By David Kavanagh
Categories:
rebukes, poems, poetess, poets,
Form:
Monoku
At the silence of the scene
Euphoria's resonance
Radiates your splendid, stellar,
Monumental existence
Your smile so immaculate
Yet, an eclipse of melancholy
Your voice--my soul's lullaby
Sings my very misery
A glimpse of you i try to steal
Spare me just a moment to dream
Oh my desire, somewhat surreal
Rebukes like a bittersweet sin
When I look into your eyes
The whole world just fades away
Spellbound by the momentary trance
Feels like forever and a day
Stay close to me, so close to me
Til I feel you near yet so far
Cold but burns me in agony
For adoring a distant star
Categories:
rebukes, chocolate, crush, for him,
Form:
Rhyme