Best Recriminations Poems
If this is my last poem, a masterpiece it will not be,
nor a poem of sorrow written deep into the night.
No self-recriminations or guilt. That is not me.
By nature I’m a sonneteer. My poetry is light.
A song of happiness and gratitude I’ll write.
As imperfect as I always was and still am to this day,
I have a gentle spirit and am kind
like many others close to me, who I am glad to say
I did not have to look too hard to find -
good friends who understand my heart and mind.
Yes, good friends I’ve always had; they are my prize
for my simply being on this earth, for little do I do
to merit their affection. In my eyes,
they are roses; from random seeds they grew!
Some flourish yet today in my garden of friendship sweet and true.
Then there are my sisters, who from my mother’s womb
came to share a strange and wondrous childhood with me.
I’m lucky, for this fate did not spell doom.
Though woes would soon ensue from a blended family,
we found great pleasure in a lifestyle of simplicity.
Older now, with children, my sisters and I thrive.
The memories we made together, like a song,
linger, and I’m happy to be alive,
knowing that my children too belong
with me in spirit, for our bonds are strong.
Yes, friends and family, and so much more:
a husband who works hard and has been true,
the children of my children and the pets that I adore!
There are students who have touched my life; they’ve come and gone,
but how I hope that in their hearts a piece of me lives on.
If this is my last poem, I must conclude
with things I got to do! I got to play,
see movies, write my poems, eat good food,
and read of places that I got to visit far away!
Thank you, God, for everything, is all that's left to say.
Written Aug. 28, 2015 and now used June 26, 2016
for the Second Place Contest Contest of Laura Loo
Categories:
recriminations, blessing, life,
Form:
Quintain (English)
you wear away at me with your silence
not with whetted words
or physical altercations
there are no recriminations
No...
it's much more corrosive than all of that
this is the sad fact
apathy barbed in neglect
is the tool that you use
not aware it's abuse
how it scrapes and it grinds
determined not to leave anything behind
day after day
night after night
year after year
till the memory
of who I was dissapears
a little bit more every day
you wear me away
voiceless, I fade
silent in your silent tirade
only pebbles remain
of a once templed soul
and with a little more time
pulverized,
they blow away...
by the constant silent howling
of your loveless heart
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
recriminations, heartbreak, how i feel,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
There is never an ending
to the spending
a world of paper
and plastic to collect
and horde
clothes
and cars
and homes
and jewelry
and fine wine
and paintings
stocks and bonds
vacations
and expectations
entire vocations
devoted to
disguising the numbers
the Caribbean masquerade
to volumes of recorded
purchases and voices
of invoices
making
discreet
choices
all
to extend
the accumulation
of dates
and names
places and faces
communications
and connections
at breakneck
speed
must fill the need
must fill the need
a shouting browbeating
broadband
handing over
fistfuls of cash
to make sure
make certain
only the best
the finest
the rarest
of air is not available
for
the underwater martyrs
the silent box dwellers
the empty bottle collectors
the wheelchair drifters
the SRO limbo sellers
the workers at
the bottom
of the
fast
food
chain
and the indigent gamblers
who line the halls
to knock on doors
of government departments
crippled by reckless
and corrupt state
administrations
choking the dwindling
sources
and resources
that have
nothing to do
but
count the days
and ways
to disappoint
disarm dismay
dispute the reputations
and applications
held in sweaty palms
eager
to begin living
to end the doubt
to end the not having
the counting of pennies
the slow heroin erosion
the unbroken hollowness
the whiskey-soaked
ravages of vacant histories
better-forgotten memories
of cold emergency rooms
to end being
in a world
apart
a world
of resentment
of fear and hate and anger
of dark empty streets
empty recriminations
empty promises
made to themselves
by themselves
harming themselves
or
arming themselves
to rob to steal
to maim
to take whatever they can
for as long as they can
to approximate
the wonder and magic
of having what you need
when you need it or want it
to not have to beg
to not have to humiliate
or be humiliated
to not have to watch
the ease of others
who have a casual
contempt for misfortune
and respect for nothing
but their own wealth
of deception
to breeze through
tall golden doors
to an unbroken string
of shiny bright todays
and tomorrows
to not have to
lunge for hope
and
never grasp it
in all ways
and forever
just out of
reach
Categories:
recriminations, anger, anxiety, violence,
Form:
Verse
Shame,
a shroud,
has fabric
woven from the
dark, anguished threads of
self-recriminations
and of inadequacies.
Caught in its twist, the frail weave on,
constraining themselves in self-loathing.
Unravel fibers of despair. . . Unveil!
For Skat's Any Old Poem #7 Poetry Contest
Categories:
recriminations, people,
Form:
Etheree
for Bebe Rexha
There's one thing
that's constant
"you've got yourself for life"
Eveything else
comes and fades:
recriminations, repercussions,
delineations, manifestations,
life, death - - - - -
All altered with fluctuations
permeating the flow.
You can always
look in the mirror,
What you see
will never change,
except for age.
It's a comfort
to know that you'll
effortlessly be there
for yourself
No matter what calamities
are thrown your way - - - - -
It's divine intervention.
Categories:
recriminations, introspection, self,
Form:
Free verse
If wishes were horses
We’d all take a ride and possibly this time
We could come inside
Without picking up a VD-in-the-box
Or a latent addiction we just can’t detox
Mind, body, soul, heart, head and feet
imprisoned deep
in a concrete complication of humiliation and revelation,
Pushed off bridges that cross
Dreams, desires, expectations . . .
Only to land in reality where we sleep with the fishes.
But who can sleep with the noise
Of bombs overhead
Dropping charges of illumination into
Each and every head
Casting shadows of scattered bones
That litter floors of our closets
Fears placed on display like
Vegas at night - Psychotic.
Riotous images of
Things left unsaid,
Things we wish were undone
Resonate in our heads - but
Let us pause to give thanks that only Pandora has the key to our
Recriminations and capitulations
Discriminations that inhibited associations
Humiliations that induced devastation
Prevented cross-pollination & stopped maturation
of our soul – God's creation . . .
As we view it through the keyhole of an air-tight little box
Reminders of the past the price we pay if it unlocks
The reminiscing turns broad highways into vicious stumbling blocks
With ghosts of roads not taken swarming round our heads in flocks
While blows of our poor choices, rain around our heads like rocks
But it is said that every virgin stoned has a chance to receive paradise
So we wish . . .
Hoping that God will swoop down in one big duex et machina with a
Diamond in the back
Sunroof top
Diggin’ the scene with the ability to save all the virgins
And through we sacrifice our happiness on altars of regret
There's no absolution
Because we won’t let go of our
Dirty little secrets
Categories:
recriminations, anxiety, fear, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
Juat past the far river levee
Your dream abides wide awake in America;
Step slowly on the first path
Without signposts...
Run in your own language
To everywhere,
And you arrive without traveling.
Be calm tonight -
Unless the useless premise
Of your lover's full blown lies
Brings you down too hard...
No tears in public to embarress;
(Recriminations hardly count in the 21st Century)
No tears in private,after all....
Such wasted signs and signals
To one special remark...
It's just his smile,
(If you remember),
That always breaks your heart...
Categories:
recriminations, growing up, recovery from...,
Form:
Blank verse
The rooster crows
Heralding a new dawn
Yet sleep is beyond me
That basic human need has deserted me
Leaving me in a whirlwind of thoughts
Contemplating, scheming
For what else can I do?
Reminiscing, remembering
What else is there for me?
Musing, pondering
How else can I survive?
When all that I ever wanted,
All that I ever dreamt of
Vaporized into a noxious smoke
When all that ever contented me
Is gone in a puff of smoke
When mine nights are restless
And the nightmares keep me up
Where then can I get more dreams?
How then can I ever hope?
When I am this close to my demise
When mine existence is all but useless
How can I ever sleep?
Without the hope of ever
Holding her in my arms
How can I ever dream?
When the anticipation has grown cold
And my future looks bleak.
Why then should I sleep?
When the dreams turn to nightmares
How can I ever sleep?
Without the hope of ever seeing her smile again
Without her,
Who sang me lullabies with that soporific voice
Can I ever sleep?
Without the hope of dreaming of her
Tell me,
What is love really?
Memories?
Recriminations and regrets?
Pain? That agonizing pain?
Would that I had known,
Would I ever have loved?
Would I ever have dreamt?
Would I ever have hoped?
Mine pneuma is vexed
The questions never end
The answers are never found
And sleep is still beyond me
My eyes in the darkness,
Open to a beautiful vision
A vision of my persecutor
She whose heart I broke,
She whose pain I authored
The girl who I love so much
She whose memory gives me no respite
She whose departure has stolen my sleep,
The only one who can exorcize my ghosts
And bring back sanity to my heart
Guess I have to live with the pain
Till eternity and beyond!
Guess I have to cohabit with my memories
Till the very end of time
Guess I have to live with the hallucinations
Till she finds it in her heart to forgive me
And to love me as I always will
Guess I have to put up with the sleeplessness
Till the emotion subsides
IF IT EVER WILL!
Then I will sleep!
Categories:
recriminations, lost love, me, heart,
Form:
Quatorzain
A being, whole and complete.
Not on this earth to be your treat.
Not for one second, to fulfill. your
perfect expectations.
Never browbeaten to meet societal
recriminations.
These clouds, ominous and forever
flying!
Blustery winds, without kindness.
A hurricane demanding that you be other
than you.
Until the very second of your dying!
1/10/2022
Categories:
recriminations, integrity, voice,
Form:
Rhyme
Diet always on my mind…
When in bed, in bathroom,
When taking showers
When in the gym, in sauna, swimming pool;
When looking in a mirror
Taking pictures with my cell…
Comparing myself to other women…
And so on and so forth…
Then good intentions leave me
When I enter my walk-in frig…
I give myself a brake…
Another solemn promise:
‘I ATE, I EAT
And do so in a future!!!
No Regrets and Self-Recriminations!!!
Hell with Diet!!!’
Categories:
recriminations, desire, silly, women,
Form:
Concrete
deep down that your moon would always be crescent
that there was a lack of light that I needed
that wood, when dry, splinters
that a house of cards is
weak
I know…
that a full moon offers all the light I need
that I can see forever from this place in time
that wood, when wet, swells
that a house made of bricks is
firm
I offer
not recriminations…
you gave what you could
without giving of yourself
you knew lust without love
and I, heartache from disparity
the red flag warning came too late
the holes too big to keep me afloat
not a good swimmer, I drifted on my back
till love threw me a preserver
Categories:
recriminations, inspirationalhouse, light, house, light,
Form:
Free verse
The time has come
to generate the retrospective
ambiguities etched in stone
perplexing to the underside
of the recriminations
sliding to the conservative right
The dance goes on
skittering and sliding
along shiny glass floors
powered by locomotive
puffing into clouds,
you gaze into space
Dreams of a more envious
pastoral speckle intuitions
of a well developed humanoid.
Beyond your wildest expectations
the illusion goes on
spitting, sputtering
in a steadfast manner
driven buy imperfections
of days gone bye.
You long for the resurrection
to circumcise possibilities
of a shaft driven turbo
turning to and fro
stifling transgressions
into a tumultuous radiance
blinding to the monstrous
aftermath of an illustrious
stiletto heal.
Categories:
recriminations, imagination, poetry, surreal,
Form:
Free verse
How is the ex treating you?
Somedays, it's a bit like a zoo,
Recriminations and regrets,
People you'd rather forget,
Amicable divorce not self-evident,
Happy-ever-after not manifest,
Added to your survivor baggage,
All part of your mental baggage!
Somedays, it's a bit like a zoo,
How is the ex treating you?
Categories:
recriminations, divorce,
Form:
Free verse
Nobody has the slightest clue
but there are no leads, either...
We have made sure of that.
The paradigm of who we are
has been
put forth and created
by the ones we love
as much as we created
it in our own minds
it was made
blow by blow
blade by bruise
and with hot and cold breath
as we have fluttered along
to amuse and
confuse those who endure
among us
as we endure ourselves.
Not to quench, but engulf.
Let's add...
"Take it as you will!"
We have proclaimed.
"We don't need your pretty
recriminations!"
But at the end of each day,
you linger and
I have the image of snowdrops
of your teeth on your lips
And the thickness of your lips and
your eye lashes
when you roll your eyes
or when they beat to the rhythm
of your blossoming
dry eyed and thick lipped
dreams and cream.
No one can take the
proclivities
of my heavy heart. It is
a stupid start
from the heaving and aching
(it's unseemly)
from the breath that
goes down a notch
and escapes
the leaps and bounds of
the lips that have done all, cursed you
and kissed all the
bits of you.
I wish for sustance in the gloomy places
and lightness in the treaden on ones.
Perhaps it is not a false paradigm
afterall, when we say it's not so.
And everyone needs to shut
the flip up.
Can not help the confidence
that enrobes
us. Just pretend
and put your hands up
if you aquiesce to my vision
i will put us into real time
Let's go together....
I can't slow it down....
I try to enhance
and it's a small glance
into the darkness,
and you aren't there
I can never fear
That which is not here.
We will avenge
together
if we have
the
time
...
I will make time
for us only
if you would only
spare me a moment
And we won't leave a trace.
Categories:
recriminations, people
Form:
Free verse
Remonstrations, protestations, recriminations
In the wake of a calamity that strikes below the belt
In communities decimated and disabled by insinuations
Brought to a head when fickle feelings melt
As tempers in embers flare
In scenarios of utter disbelief prompted by dysfunctions
In families with implicit love deficit declare
A truce among gladiators lest functions
Held in high esteem at best
Considered tenuous at worst in the light of evidence
Adduced by a traditional herbalist to test
Depth and strength of balance, cadence, credence
In norms hitherto perceived as golden standard
In matters of natural justice
Scoring above or below zero on a scorecard displayed with prominence on a placard
Denounce the injustice
Shown and grown with no iota of shame to collect and dissect scalps
Carried, harried, buried six feet under
In Utopian Alps
Reeking of the stench of blunder and thunder by a gander who considers gender
A taboo with tattoos of blame
Training, staining, raining participants to a cabal
With the lame name
Ordinarily thought banal
Strut the shame a family feels
At a low point in the life
It purports to live when squealing eels
Swimming in family ponds and puddles of strife
Stick a sharp knife
Into taboos of bamboos it desecrates
As a funeral fife
Consecrates and concentrates cancer crates
To wind up a discourse of the mute
While weeping eyes
Refuse yielding to coercion to recruit
Sties, ties, flies and pies teeming with lugubrious lies.
Categories:
recriminations, poems,
Form:
Free verse