Best Reprisals Poems
The velvet sky was strangely quiet...
The Earth still and hushed beneath my feet.
No mountains groaned, no crumbling stone
Giving voice to my defeat.
The lake... calm and placid like mirrored glass...
Not a ripple to be seen.
Two loons at play had flown away
Leaving a tranquil pastoral scene.
Birds would sing to mark this day
As beasts roamed throughout the land.
I was not impressed and most distressed...
Nature's laws seemed well in hand.
The morning scented with a familiar air as
Meadow flowers made good their vivid fashion
But in my grief, there was a unyielding belief...
Nature should be gripped with far more passion.
I wanted Earthly reprisals and thunderbolts
To lash out their.. mournful roar.
I wanted winds to squall and towered trees to fall
And huge white capped waves to lap their shores.
I wanted the land to wither and blow away
Where wilted crops grow stunted for the year.
Where the force above... feels a desperate shove
And an unplumbed chasm then appears.
But then again... on further musing,
Such sights would not honor her at all.
We had oft discussed... there be no fuss
When she answered Heaven's call.
No trumpets roared or melodic lyres blurred
As a callous Nature missed that special day...
But Church bells rang and sweet Angelic voices sang...
When my dear Mother passed away.
The End
Categories:
reprisals, grief, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Reprisals are sharp thorns from stabbing tongues
causing deep wounds that may never heal.
Regrets are sown in the seams of a guilty mind
where no salve can reach, and scars remain.
November 16, 2021 ~ Liberum Divisa 8 Contest
Taken from the poem: Reprisal or Regret ~ 2016
Contest Sponsored by Gregory Richard Barden
Categories:
reprisals, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
What is the gift in your life
Is it your husband or wife
Is it your children, your lover, your pet
The notion of someone you haven’t met yet
Is it the door that you shut on the havoc
The sanctity of your four walls
Relaxing with something with lemon and ice
The chatter when family calls
What is the essence of life
Is it the joy or the strife
Is it the gift of another new day
Is it the moonlight that wipes it away
Is it the senses that most take for granted
Til veils are pulled over your eyes
The joy of the breath that means you escaped death
And you realise your life is a prize
What is the price of a life
When it dwells on the edge of a knife
Is it dollars or cents as it sits on the fence
Before it stands firm or repents
Is it a penny ignored by the many
A glint to the partially blind
When shots overhead leave passers-by dead
As I kneel to see what I may find
So what is the value of life
When gangland reprisals are rife
And witnesses number not many
But my life was saved by a penny
So is this the value of life
Not a bargain store bear nor a Steiff
A penny: A low value find
But a glint to the partially blind
Categories:
reprisals, metaphor, symbolism,
Form:
Rhyme
Figures of immense reputation and popularity they were
Attracting public attention and admiration in the pursuit of their great works
Leaving behind them a legacy of some kind
But going with them their unique characters.
Wasn’t the explosion of Christianity the work of Jesus of Nazareth?
And the burst of Islam not the work of Muhammed of Mecca?
Neither will the admirable leadership of Julius Caesar;
Nor the conquests of the unlearned Charlemane,
And the military successes of Alexander the great,
Be forgotten in History.
If the British can forget Napoleon’s continental system
Jews then, would forget Hitler’s concentration camps
And history would entirely cease recalling his mentor Mussolini.
What if Carl Marx did not propound radical socialism?
Lenin then, would not have smashed the bourgeoisie and ruled Russia
Neither would the principles of Marxism-Leninism be sustained by Stalin
Nor would Churchill seal the border between the East and the West with an iron curtain.
A grave mistake it would be to forget Martin Luther King Jr.
For if he be forgotten, Mahatma Ghandi then would also be
And the entire movement of nonviolence
Will stop covering many pages of modern history books.
Had it not for Kwame Nkruma and Hastings Banda to cut the rope of colonialism
The ambitious Cecil Rhodes then,
Would have drained the whole continent of all its economic wealth.
The ascendancy of Nelson Mandela from the horizon of apartheid
Was not the beginning of Maximillien Robespierre’s reign of terror;
Characterized by avenges and reprisals
But the emergence of Abraham Lincoln’s true democracy.
What if Caesar were not butchered?
William Shakespeare then, would not have been the greatest playwright
Causing Charles Dickens and Chinua Achebe not to appear.
For the existence of a Jewish state, David Ben Gulion fought
But for the reemergence of a Palestinian state, Yasser Arafat strives.
Categories:
reprisals, history, work, history, work,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Ratings War
By Odin Roark
His trembling fingers press remote buttons
Finally pausing on…
The News Channel.
Breaking News – Many dead.
As ordered by chests of ribbons and medals,
Faces covered by executioner masks,
Crusaders of jihadist-style black gowns
Man’s all-encompassing human ant hill
Frantic with hate and holiness.
The Feel Good Channel
A stoic President speaking reprisals,
The ghost-piloted drones
The magic answer to hostilities.
The Re-Run Channel
His despondent fingers traverse his face
Where annals of imbedded scars pulsate,
Like shrapnel shards once removed,
Repressed memories refusing to die,
Reminders that combat remains forever alive.
The History Channel
So many mirrored yesterdays,
Smiling neighbors once happy like him,
Knowing all too well how history truly repeats itself,
Its legacy forever ready to lick the corners of its bloody lips,
Even when there is no blood…temporarily.
The Pay-Per-View Channel
Battling for fame and fortune,
Caged bare-fisted men and women
Pounding one another in between hungry kisses,
Ripping off each other’s clothes
As hordes of spectators scream “Get it on!
Get it on!”
The Dark Channel
His finger presses the final button.
Inviting the opaque screen of assurance,
That super natural attestation,
Where without sound,
Picture,
Or Network Sweeps,
Heaven is always an offering,
That other make-believe promise of peace,
Forever vying for ratings.
He dozes off.
Categories:
reprisals, war,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Reprisal or regret - both are meant to punish
Reprisal slaps the hand; regret lingers in the heart
Competitors of the fiercest kind,
Like weeds sown in among the wheat,
both sprout in the same field,
but only one of them wins out.
Reprisals are sharp thorns from stabbing tongues
causing deep wounds that may never heal.
Regrets are sown in the seams of a guilty mind
Where no salve can reach, and scars remain.
Regret, why do you thirst so hard after me?
Be gone to slake your enmity elsewhere
on some other unsuspecting prey.
You've tempted me to give in many times,
but not yet have I succumbed to your wiles.
I've paid the price reprisal asked,
I will continue to let his words condemn me.
But I shall live without one iota of regret
You'll hear no "What ifs" in my plaintive voice.
Feast upon carrion until you've had your fill.
My back is turned to your endless malevolence
You won't be singing songs of remorse for me.
Categories:
reprisals, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Lost in thought thinking of me
Lost in thought thinking of you
Lost in thought thinking of my kind
Lost in thought thinking of the world
The world is in chaos
Africa the nearest is forever in upheaval
Coup's are the daily breakfast news
Killings are the order of the day
Babies,children,women,men are maimed
The purpose is to disfunction
No reprisals from them
But they are and will be
Current and future workforce of the country
They had to be future leaders of the country
But now are nursing shattered dreams and futures
Who gave you the right to destroy
Who gave you the right to take life
Who are you to decide on fate
Who are you to kill
Life is not manufactured
Life is precious
God gave you life so much as everybody
He wanted you to be a good child
He wanted you to be well behaved
He wanted you to kneel down and praise him
Categories:
reprisals, africa,
Form:
Alliteration
The Dark Rider
From a dark and distant time, so very long ago
In a land, time has forgotten, sunken below
In an era when the blackened heart of man
Struck fear and despair within all the land
You could feel the grip of the black cloud of fear
Blanketing over the land, everything far and near
“Tis a terrifying time for the likes of any man
Unaware of whence this tale of darkness began”
The elders would speak of a dark sinister long ago
Where a black ghostly image would appear so slow
A dark rider would appear out of the cold black night
Riding a black steed, fire in it’s eyes, terrifying sight
It was said that rider was sent from hell to avenge
Of the innocents done wrong, seeking only revenge
A hellish quest, retribution to the evils that men do
Swift reprisals to the wrongdoers he does pursue
The rider is judge and jury, not one man shall survive
Once he seeks out his lowly prey, not one is left alive
He suddenly appears, tall shadow in blackest night
Of who he seeks no one knows, until daybreaks light
Once again the dark rider leaves his mark on the town
His justice for those too weak, unable to fight is renown
The fear that evil doers feel for this dark unholy reaper
Is a testament to his judgment, an unholy peacekeeper
Categories:
reprisals, conflict, dark, evil,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
The gathering storm rattled snakelike over distant hills,
Heads of dust and debris thrown as charcoal relief
To the vast expanse of the sky;
In the drought of reason, heat radiated a stillness,
Diseased and brooding, motionless as fissured statues
Or corpses in their time of desiccation.
The old grudges quickly stirred, their animation jostling with fever,
Until they burst tall and armoured, bloody hands
Raised up to the heavens;
Ceaselessly goading, provoking war dogs, effected
Reprisals in a rain of missiles, for attrition ruled
The stalemate kingdoms with seething deities.
The storm is coming, a travel of increasing ferociousness,
Laying waste to desert blooms and flesh,
And sat upon the pale horse the name is always death.
Towers of toasted glass and white steel,
Market places, schools and homes…and people…
All fair game carrion before such implicit dominion…
Categories:
reprisals, death, history, life, loss,
Form:
Blank verse
More free advice to those* who would be King from the THIRUK-KURAL with notes
[*like presidents, prime ministers, dictators of declining (falling or fallen) nations]
K386: kaadchikku eliyan kaduñchollan allanaal
miikkuurum mannan nilam
Where king is easy of access, where no harsh word repels,
That land's high praises every subject swells. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
The whole world will exalt the country of the king who is easy of access, and whose words are without harshness. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
Where at royal audience all may attend a king gentle of voice and mien*,
That kingdom's praises all will sing. (Transl. T. Wignesan)
[* recourse to threats and reprisals can only undermine the good name of the land]
K429: viyavatka eññaantrum thannai
nayavatka nantri payavaa vinai
Never indulge in self-complaisant mood,
Nor deed desire that yields no gain of good. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
Let not a king praise himself, at any time;
let him not desire to do useless things. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
(The king) should neither blow his own horn
Nor occupy himself with acts* that bring in no corn. (Transl. T. Wignesan)
[* like building a porous wall on borrowed cash while tens of millions of the poor sick die in pain, EVEN IF AMERICA will wake up some day to realize that he was after all right about the measures he's wanting to take over IMMIGRATION, unless everybody wants the kind of irreversible situation FRANCE and GERMANY are going through.]
K454: manaththu ulathupOlak kaadti oruvat
inaththula thaakum arivu
Man's wisdom seems the offspring of his mind;
'Tis outcome of companionship we find. (Tranls. G.U. Pope)
The knowledge of a man, while it appears to be from his mind is (really) from his associates. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
[(The king) who makes as if his words (and ideas)* emanate from within himself, (the contrary being the case) will find it difficult to conceal their true source(s). (Transl T. Wignesan)]
[* A king who has difficulty expressing himself in the "King's English" and whose repertoire of epithets is mostly limited to: "terrific", "terrible", "horrible", "horrific", "wonderful", "tremendous" along with threatening phrases like "watch my words" would do well to ask the ghost-writers to step forward and take a bow.]
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Categories:
reprisals, america, patriotic, people, political,
Form:
Epigram
In memory of a cat
In those years of innocence
When actions were not guided by much sense
I once killed a little white cat
That had trespassed; I guess, while on the trail of a rat.
I knew not from where it came
Or, if the door had been left ajar; who to blame
But I was angered at it's sight
So, I reached for a pestle, and struck with all my might.
In blind anguish it dashed about
Dazed! And of the way out, obviously in doubt
For, I had blocked the kitchen door
A club in my hand – a hammer in the hand of Thor!
Another lone strike, and it’d gone still
In my thrill, I’d cut the air with the loudest shrill
Picked my kill; displayed for all to see
I was a warrior, a great - I had wallowed in my glee.
But, Mum did not share in my thrill
As her words had, through me sent a chill
“The cat will visit in your dream
To seek revenge, if it’s anger is extreme”.
“You’re a self-acclaimed brave
Therefore, by your hands; you must dig its grave
And it’s vengeful spirit pacify
With pleas, at the place where it will now eternally lie”.
With a heart filled with fear
Minding that the night was getting very near
My tiny hands had dug the ground
And I’d rendered my plea upon the little grave mound.
Though, of reprisals from the dead
My then innocent mind later outgrew it's dread
For fun, I never did kill again
As to the sanctity of all life, I got bound by a chain.
May 5, 2018
Categories:
reprisals, cat, fear, innocence, kid,
Form:
Rhyme
Rationalisation of Explanation
Do not question
The almighty plan
For such are the reprisals of fear
That turn blind despair into adulation
The evident proof
Existent in raped women and children
Irrefutable in famished stomachs
Undisguised in all the suffering
Hangs stark and uncompromising
Humanity through centuries of historical brutality
Has treated us with its incontinent blood
And defiled every precept of love
“Nothing” has come to save us.
But still we cling
Desperate in our own life times
For some semblance of a reason
Prepared to receive the miracle
Which never comes
One day they say
Is one thousand years in the mind of God
And so
All these prayers will never be answered
Not until the human voice
For a millennia has repeated a single word
It is an existence of shame in heaven
That such cruelty
Does not comprehend
This state of being called “Human”
Of one life times capacity to be
So free and so very happy
We pass unrealised in all our potential
Having lived our lives in suffering
Nailed up and stripped to idiot faith
In some bland concept of Gods fathers day
Turns every apparent truth
Into the conceivable lies of fools
Explain if you would
The torment
Rationalise by some beliefs excuse of a plan
How God allows this to happen
Faith is a mockery
Which does not accept responsibility
and allows us to close our eyes
And continue to live in luxury
And while mankind persists in its idolatry of God
And passes the buck
To some unknown biblical saviour
Some Messiah who will receive all our sin
Half the world continues starving
Raping, warring, murdering, thirsting
Dieing of curable diseases
Judged by their colour
Living in hovels on rubbish tips
Pogroms of sectarian violence
Racial cleansing
Oil pipelines
And nationalistic patriotic flag waving
God
It is an existence of shame in heaven
That such cruelty
Does not comprehend
This state of being called Human
Of one life times capacity to be
So free and so very happily
Exultant
Categories:
reprisals, lifelife, life,
Form:
Free verse
She would,intimidated at the hubbub of the spoon
Tapping the dishes at meal times,
Strive to elbow her way through the kitchen egress
Otherwise mount the window and the netting abrade
Exasperated my wife would with her broom
Endeavour to chase away but not to avail
While her cohorts would just the scene descry
Fathoming they would actually avail from her mutiny
For soon she would recommence her conquest
Seek instead to bargain a consensus
Impel my spouse who would capitulate
To dish them something out to domesticate their appetency
Later on my way home after dawn
I chanced upon her lying almost inert
For our neighbour who was less compromising and bigoted
As she has so many times partaken of his poultry
Cautioned us of his imminent reprisals
Got hold of his shotgun and terminated the poor thing
I essayed my best to succor her bleeding wound
But reaped only a feeble meow and almost a beam
She indubitably set her heart on begging pardon
For the pestering at any meal congregation
For the unsolicited guests she summoned
When on the pull and the vigorous confrontation
They would ensue in our garden and near our aching pillows
Then departed letting my pet-worshipping,grief-stricken family
Organize her funeral and allot her a decent burial in the garden
Where she buried her poops and messed the vegetations
Above all the flowers I per diem dampen.
Categories:
reprisals, animal,
Form:
Free verse
Ninety-seven percent of all U.S. currency
Contains a trace amount of cocaine
Sniffing your George Washington's every day
Causes a mellowing of the brain
If we were able to live on Planet Mercury
Each year is only 88 days there
Well holy kadoodle, at that astounding rate
I'd be 300 and still have my hair
The world record for the most babies born
By one woman is sixty-nine
My guess is she was perpetually pregnant
Imagine all the washing on her line
They say a broken clock is always right
A couple of times every day
If you're having trouble figuring that one out
You should seek some help I'd say
The G in “g-string” that those dancers wear
Stands for “groin” I've heard it said
But if a dancer weighs over 300 pounds
It would stand for “gross” instead
Way back when, nagging wives were punished
By being forced to wear a bridle
Think I'll refrain from commenting here
For fear of serious reprisals
The male praying mantis cannot copulate
While it's head is still attached
So the female accommodates by ripping it off
So much for a possible rematch
Although they may not want to admit it
Women fart as much as men
But they fart in a much more ladylike fashion
And never lift their leg or bend
© Jack Ellison 2013
Categories:
reprisals, humorous, planet,
Form:
Quatrain
Self-dissection
By Stina lu
Stab yourself with a sharp dagger
Fresh blood splashing
No one stops you
There’s no piercing scream
No one scolds you
There's no worry about curses and reprisals
To air your pure heart in the sunlight
Wipe gently the humble soul
To hold your guts high up in the sky
Let the moon and the sun penetrate and judge.
Stop the bee humming in your head
Place reason on the left brain
and passion on the right side.
They don’t owe each other.
Dust covered thick in your lung
which should be peeled layer by layer.
Make your breath smooth again
Every alveoli feels fresh
After all this labor
Clean the wound and suture it
Time will erase it
A new lease on life
A reborn phoenix arises from the ash
Categories:
reprisals, blessing,
Form:
Free verse