Best Repulse Poems
I THINK THEREFORE I AM
"An ounce of hypocrisy is worth
a pound of ambition" --Michael Korda
Liberty...
This everyone's want--
stretching an autonomy to unbuckle self-discovery
I got mites and bugs living in my head--
infesting my mind. They... daring a chance
to worm my guts and electrify my peace.
They adulterate seeking ways to emerge
from claws of doubts to grains of trust.
My veil of grace they bite and bite
devouring me 'til I set to pursue my act.
Should I repulse...
then spread my wings to fly?
or should I be a little puppet--
controlled, slave to strings attached to me?
or I'd rather choose a mask--
my gamble to earn sympathy or popularity;
my weapon sheltering my luck;
my fall or my win?
Cogito ergo sum.
I think, therefore I am.
The mites and bugs in my skull blown
from shocks infused by my firing drive.
My cavalry of Modesty, brave to rise
face the furnace of battlegrounds.
Insincerity. Malingering. Pretension
are artillaries luring hypocrisy
but love, honesty and bravery:
the bombs I defy to conquer the trades.
If God is with me, who can be against me?
Standing like a Molave
rooted evergreen, ever strong.
My face bulletproof
to those who I believe wrong.
A standing soldier ready to offer her life
to fraud and tyranny.
I refuse to be fed on standing lies.
The harpoons of verity, I battling dart,
raining towards the barbaric boxes as they...
They are my lioness roar, my freedom and my soar
piercing the pumping heart of those who eat innocence,
I... dauntless!
_________________________________________________
** I think therefore I am is said by Rene Descartes
Romans 8:31-- If God is with us, who can be against us?
O. E. Guillermo
10:43 pm, April 18, 2015
Categories:
repulse, character, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
This sacred soil that once resounded with the musket's rattle,
Imbued with mingled blood of Blue and Gray spilt in brutal battle,
Now stands serene with only whisperings of the restless ghosts,
Of gallant men who sacrificed their all among the frenzied hosts.
Are those the sighs of vagabond souls heard with each subtle breeze,
As zephyrs rustle the dancing leaves of stalwart, guardian trees?
Is that the winter's wind that shrieks about Round Top Hill,
Or the screams of dying troopers, their fatal destiny to fulfill?
Are those the moans of men left to die, their laurels won,
Or the boles of ancient pines groaning 'neath the searing sun?
The wind wafts tall grasses that on The Wheatfield grow;
Could this be waves of spectral infantry, advancing row by row?
Lightning flashes and thunder echoes across the rolling sectors,
Reminiscent of once roaring cannon, now long-silent specters.
The battle was o'er with the repulse of daring General Pickett;
Thousands of souls lay dead on bloody field and tangled thicket.
Lincoln's powerful address yet echoes o'er that hallowed clay,
To honor heroes, no matter the color of cloth they wore that day.
Do their fretful spirits yet roam, wondering if they died in vain?
Rest in peace dear souls - because of you this nation rose again!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 the Fraser/Devonshire "Dazzle Us With History" Contest - Jan 2011
Categories:
repulse, historymen,
Form:
Rhyme
You can all breathe now Zimbabwe
Rejoice freedom from repression
lift yourselves out of depression,
new president, no wannabe
so democratize your Country
repulse anything contrary
be pleased, say goodbye to Bobby
he has had it too good, too long
those hard years all terrible wrongs,
rule with fear is surely shoddy
so enjoy, sing, dance and party
now start your new lives, be hearty,
worlds much better without Mugabe
this evil man of ill repute
who no one will ever dispute,
you can all breathe now Zimbabwe
new president, no wannabe
be pleased, say goodbye to Bobby
rule with fear is surely shoddy
worlds much better without Mugabe.
11/21/2017
for contest Constanza
Sponsored by Craig Cornish,
Iambic tetrameter checked on how many syllables.
Categories:
repulse, abuse, blessing, future, goodbye,
Form:
Rhyme
Do not think there is a day I do not want
Or a week, or even a year I repulse
Do not think I do rebuff
Any part that is you
If there is something I abhor it is the distance...
the distance that you put between us
In miles, lightyears and the length
Of your arm
In cold measurements of two cups water,
three cups ice, you dose our lives
You dispense your time
in small pills
The wild that we were so long ago
Turned tame and subdued
A gilded cage with
open door
Do not think there is a day I do not miss
Who we once were. I reject
Who we are now. I set
you free.
***
March 24, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Categories:
repulse, farewell, fate, feelings, goodbye,
Form:
Free verse
She'd had her round in Life's blighting furnace,
Where stealthy wear and age blurred her face.
Dents shot where dreamy dimples had grown,
Lightning smiles usurped by involuntary frown.
In her livelier turns by Midas' glowing shores,
She galloped and gleamed like grated brass.
Time’s grim cankers fell on the rarefied feast
Of the cutest eye ever cast on envious glass.
If as a reincarnated phoenix's her gone grin
Could twirl and morph into its erstwhile arc,
She’d anon repulse her timing nemesis’ sin,
And give her faded glories an eternal spark.
Bereft of that fairy fowl's sheen-saving magic,
She’d to inevitably brave decay's stoic scythe.
Merry rhyme sung her sweet charms to mimic
Faded to ethers wherein dead beauties writhe.
No looker who her earth-blemished visage espies,
Can know she was the fairest star in kindlier skies.
Categories:
repulse, age, allegory, beautiful,
Form:
Ballad
MY SUN~~~
Like the sun
against the day sky.
Releasing unrestrained light!
Diluting your daily sphere
that repulse
my intellectual needs.
Take Death into my desert
dumping you a side.
Uncrossed boundaries that multiply
concealing your eyes of beauty
from the world.
Never embracing eternity.
Like an atomic emerging
all elements of coincidence
destroying all
forms of life's way.
The nectar that flows
ruining every thing we dream of.
~~~~
Implanted with
dilutions of all the ugliness
that refrains
unmerciful ways
disconnecting
every stop,
conceived in the open.
Slicing through
exposure
that binds devotion
to the negative of dark.
Like the sun
that hits the ground.
Blinding every straight look
with the perception you preach!
By;p.d.
for Nate D. opposite of His (My Moon) poem..
Categories:
repulse, science, slam
Form:
Free verse
The Flag of the British Merchant Navy
The Battle of the Atlantic
We’ve heard of the famous Mighty Hood that was sunk by a Bismarck shell
We know how many men were lost and the Skippers name as well
We’ve seen the Battleship Barham rolling on her side
before the huge explosion in which so many died
The Repulse and Prince of Wales on rout to the Singapore post
Both lost to the Jap torpedo planes off the Malaya coast
There’s a film about the Kelly sunk in the battle of Crete
And of the famous River Plate where we inflicted defeat
Yet who knows the names of the merchant ships sunk almost every day
Who knew that as these ships went down seamen were put off pay
Shipping Companies all did this to cut down on the cost
They lost one of their freighters, but how many lives were lost
What of the men on the Arctic run ferrying Russian supplies
The ocean full of U-boats and Bombers filling the skies
Sailing a gas filled Tanker some only in their teens
Wondering if they’ll freeze to death or be blown to smithereens
Wallowing along in a rusting tramp to save the Russian Nation
Struggling to make eight knots whilst trying to keep station
Should a seaman stay topside or should he seek his bunk
Knowing if you fall astern your certain to be sunk
Many a merchant ship now lies under the Barents Sea
Lost in a desperate struggle to set the Russians free
The ocean bed is littered with merchant seaman’s bones
Now to lay forever at peace with Davie Jones
As a Nation we are rightly proud of our Navy in World War Two
Likewise of the R.A.F and what we owe to the few
To the men who fought at Arhnem and Monty’s Desert Rats
To those who fought the Japanese to all we raise our hats
From the Home Guard to the S.O.E in it from the start
All of our Armed Services were keen to play their part
Each had lost so many when they counted the final muster
But the greatest loss was those who sailed under the Old Red Duster
Categories:
repulse, warmen, lost, lost, men,
Form:
I know, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s poem : Je sais by T. Wignesan
I have seen upon this earth the gangrene of mass graves
I have seen the sky foul up with human ashes
I have watched the breath of superb beings
Mist over with their blood the universe
I have seen how the hearts of the powerful decay on their
lips
I have seen men thought of as possessing wisdom
While they picked their way through pools of blood
I have seen the just in spirit breathe in massacres
As if the wide open spaces puffed up their lungs
I have seen the good at heart repulse God
And that brought on a tide of extermination
They were clothed in the white linen of words
To dissimulate the stains of blood
I opened my mouth God bear witness
I wanted to speak out
My heart unable to bear being human
Wanting to burst upon other men
Shrieking so as to cleave the sky
But the air thrust its fist down my throat
Out of my heart streaked words turned to lies
That I was unaware of
Those words were put into my mouth
And I pronounced them
I would rather have died than utter them
And (yet) I uttered them
In turn I have turned words into carrion
The human soul manufactures words
Which by fault of my own rot in the face of God
I have become the speaker
Who has been deprived of the meaning of Speech
My eyes are the mirror of lies
And my ears the echo of lies
And my mouth the melting-pot of lies
And my soul clogged up with lies
Froth on the lips of a dying God
Who proffers even a word without lying ?
Who dares to address crying out at the Cross :
Have I not murdered the Verb ?
I assassinated the Verb gifted by God
I am an assassin like everyone else
But not all know who’s put to death by them
Me
I do know it.
(from the collection : Visage nuage, 1955)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, September 29, 2014
Categories:
repulse, god, words, universe,
Form:
Free verse
There were silence and stillness in the autumn air
Foliage adorned the trees like fair auburn hair
The stream did not bubble; the pond had no ripples
The garden seemed uninhabited by people
But the garden was not void of good company
On a bench was seated the little girl and me
‘You look quite troubled. What could be wrong?’ I asked her
‘Is there any way I could make you feel better?’
The little girl looked at me and said, ‘I feel lost…’
‘There is a debt that comes at much too high a cost
I cannot meet the price; it is just too hefty
This unmet debt unsettles me; I feel guilty…’
‘Debt? Hefty? Guilty?’ her vague statements puzzled me
‘What you are saying to me is a mystery!
What hefty debt could come at much too high a cost?
Is it greater than the price Christ paid on the cross?’
‘I understand what you’re saying in my mind’s eye
But my heart condemns me; that I cannot deny
For Christ, my Lord, tells me to love my enemy
But I can’t show concern to the one who hurt me’
I could not find the proper words to comfort her
Guilt burned within me like hot, ignited sulfur
Since the one who hurt me is not my enemy
Why does it repulse me to show her some pity?
After some silence and reflection, I asked her:
‘My dear, have you brought this struggle to God in prayer?’
‘Prayer?’ the little girl fidgeted uneasily
‘Well, no… I can’t…’ she sighed and bowed her head sadly
‘Well, why not?’ I pressed her for a clearer answer
‘I’m afraid… Afraid to pray about this matter
I’ve locked it up in that dark, familiar closet
It is something I want to, but cannot, forget’
‘Why would unlocking the closet bring you such fear?’
‘I don’t want to go to that room… I’m happy here
I was once held captive in that dark, dreadful room
Confined in a closet where despondency loomed
What if my return holds me captive forever?
What if the closet recaptures its prisoner?
No, I will never set foot in that room again!
Dear Lord, please spare me the trauma; save me the pain!’
Lost for words, I reached out and took hold of her hands
‘Our fears and struggles, our Lord Jesus understands
Though words of prayer may fail us, He knows our frailty
Entrust our guilt to Him; our load He will carry’
Categories:
repulse, autumn, christian, emotions, forgiveness,
Form:
Rhyme
Wake up, America!
Wake up you silent majority,
you sons and daughters of liberty.
All who bleed red, white and blue
your country needs you!
Wake up, America!
Wake up to the revolution
and stand up for the constitution.
Stand against division and hate
now before it’s too late!
Wake up, America!
Wake up folks hither and yon
and vote till a great victory is won.
Soon it will be your patriotic turn
to quell the fires that burn!
Wake up, America!
Wake up and repulse evermore
the wolves and jackals at your door.
Alas the riotin’ mobs in your town
want to tear America down!
Wake up, America!
Wake up to all the fake news
and be most careful who you choose.
Get aboard and ride the Trump train
back to Washington again!
Wake up, Sleepy Joe!
America is not a racist country
but Godless marxists want it to be.
And yet still in your basement hidin’
you say nothin’, Joe Biden!
Wake up, America!
And now that the votes are in
miraculous ballots keep appearin’.
Now we see Red states right on cue
mysteriously turnin’ Blue!
Wake up, America!
Well it’s up to the courts now
to seek truth and justice somehow.
Funny how the laptop incrimination
became Russian disinformation!
Wake up, America!
Joe says it’s now time to heal
but first there’s an election to steal.
That stench in the air is hypocrisy
and the death of democracy!
Wake up, America!
For your country say a prayer
that we wake from this nightmare.
But alas as a wise man once spoke
you can’t wake the woke!
Written: Sept - Nov 2020
Categories:
repulse, america, corruption, political,
Form:
Rhyme
Clouds, the clouds diffuse a sad and somewhat somber hue;
Wind, the wind bemoans her loss of reins and calm control;
Crows, the crows flee men of straw, sleeves slapping at the wind;
Grass, the grass defends with blades, impaling truant gusts;
Rain, the rain descends aslant from angry ashen skies;
Stones, the stones repulse the pearls, exploding tears of gloom;
Woods, the woods assuage the angst of misty brooding trees;
Leaves, the leaves desert their branches, dropping one by one;
Fields, the fields imbibe a quaff to quench an arid thirst;
Streams, the streams meander, hushed, to distant vapid shores;
Breeze, the breeze intones a tune, a mourning monody;
Sands, the sands, in chaos, dance across the dappled dunes;
Shades, the shades appear confused, alone in lurid haze;
Mice, the mice discern the dawn, their beady eyes ablaze;
Clouds, the clouds diffuse a sad and somewhat somber hue.
Categories:
repulse, angst, nature, sad,
Form:
Ever long we stare to the East
The waters dance with glee.
Alluring at the very least
This symphony may be.
We watch those who know this beauty
And those who seek Her cheer,
We watch those who know such bounty
Yet nigh do these folk fear
That this dance be a siren call
A cruel temptress awaits.
Such cacophony nigh to stall
Virgin people from cold fate
For though Her waters can caress
Enveloped in her folds,
Some foolish bathers are remiss
In the power that She holds.
Hark! To arms! Victims call, 'Distress!'
This sound we dread to hear,
"Go now! Repulse death's harsh egress,"
As there is ceaseless fear
That there will be tragic failure
An agile step misplaced,
That the Ocean will call once more,
With smothering embrace.
And so we navigate her waves
The pounding force beware,
The mouth of the Devil himself
Comes here-forth to ensnare.
"Onward, dauntless brothers!" we hear,
"Against the waves we go,
For there is one who was swallowed
Fight for his life so!"
Into the mounting fray we dive,
Against the rising swell.
Now such ranks form to hunt for him
And pull from water'd hell.
Mercilessly, cruel time crawls forth
As lungs begin to burn,
Our hope wilts as it comes to pass
The point of no return.
Yet nigh will we ever desist,
We will reclaim this man.
Duty burns as Sun o'erhead
To bear him back to land.
Near the shore a whistle blasts thrice,
Do I dare to believe?
The call of a search successful,
A body they start to heave.
Hold for his life dearest brothers
Though the water crash down!
It is in obstinate resolve
That you earned your renown.
Hold steadfast, continue the watch
Arrogant creatures we,
To think our meager lives our own,
They belong to the sea.
Categories:
repulse, beach, bereavement, brother, loss,
Form:
Ballad
Once there was an imperative need
for the little crabs in the bucket indeed:
If and only if the little ones were taught
to use their skills to climb out,
would they survive—no doubt.
So a change was mooted brightly
(as inspired by Benjamin Bloom rightly)
by a bucket crab—in the life-skill program for the crabs new;
and there was stiff resistance – phew! –
particularly from a couple of old king crabs among the lot:
the little ones shouldn’t be taught anything new—no matter what.
The resistance was stage-managed ably—
a strategy they could use expertly.
Need? Where’s it?
Hurry? Where’s it?
Venture, none should,
Anything the oldies thought “no good.”
Nobody likes change but a wet baby, said Mark Twain
And it was meant mainly for the oldies twain
The cold war started
And five long years it lasted.
Strange crustaceans they were, both outlaws,
armed with multiple pairs of claws,
which now they were using skillfully —
from talebearing through subversion to anything to bully.
The committed reformist-crab had to fight lonelily,
And the repeated attacks repulse boldly.
Thus the five-year war was fought continually.
And the kids were saved—eventually.
Oh, those five long years!
***
Winner III, Meraki Poetry Contest, sponsored by SO, December 21, 2017,
Categories:
repulse, allegory,
Form:
Rhyme
Love subdues the horror of life
To release the dreams of lost children
Categories:
repulse, childhood, hope, love, philosophy,
Form:
Crystalline
A LETTER TO MY SON
Listen son
Thinking about the memories you have of me
The memories that rankles
It rankles as long as we sniffle off air
Air of life and eternity
A wave of guilt and remorse
Swept off my pillow at midnight
I had been a cross and a spear
That cut deep into your Childhood
I scolded and humiliated your ego
I had been a threat
Rather than be a FATHER
Do you remember son
When I was on the telephone
Quickly your innocent but timid face
Pop into my room with hurt
Hurt and tears in your eyes
You wanted a touch of daddy
A touch of comfort and a hug
Impatient at the interruption
I snapped at you in neglect
You ran terribly with sickening fear away
You were gone pattering up the stairs
I had been a peril
Rather than be a FATHER
Son you grew up fast
So fast with scars
Scars and wounds that may rankle
I was finding fault and blames
Even when you bid me goodbye
Goodbye to daddy yet I frown
I have caused all the mistakes you made
Because I was a pharoah
Rather than be a FATHER
Well son, God did create you
with a kind blossoming heart
Heart so meek and loving
I reprimanded you in all things
Yet you still rush at night
Before bed to kiss me good night
With remorse and shame
I write to you
It was never hatred
But the wrong habit that repulse
I truely love you son
Now I desire you to dwell in my arms
For I want to take back
All the hurts and pains
To be a better daddy from now.
©Michael Edison
6:15pm
28/5/2016
Categories:
repulse, abuse, betrayal, child, child
Form:
Bio