Best Retorts Poems
I witness you fading away,
The winds blow frantically
They are against us, as all are
Little fire, rise in my cupped hands
Be it my life I shield from the elements so unfeeling?
Little fire, brighten as I feed you
This moisture receding from my pores must cease
Before I drown this diminishing beauty
I gasp,
Surprised at the howls and retorts of this icy tempest
Nature’s exhalations mean to end what must naturally end
My hands shake
Little fire—my life!
—I must keep you alive!
Grow against all odds
Against the screaming whirlpools of bluster
Against the torrential tears that mean to overcome you
Against the ashes that can only watch the desolation around you,
As you search for more fuel to masticate
My flesh is no treasure to me,
So lick me deep, my flame
Devour these hands that shield you
Rise hastily, as you burn
Ascending up my arms,
Lighting every goosebump, shriveling every hair
Rise till I am all aflame in this wilderness
Boil and evaporate every murderous tear—
The fluids of sorrow that so pulverize purpose
Eat through every sinew, and every tissue,
Every muscle and every bone that has grown
For this moment and this moment only
I give you every piece of me, little fire!
So that my spirit, finally free, shall rise to the heavens
Past the shrieking winds, preceding through the jeers of thunder
I give you my all, blessed fire!
So that these eyes may witness every storm die
And I may laugh at their futility!
"Instead of expressing exasperation, think toleration."
~ by poet
I find that I've become impatient with people who seem dense
and it only serves to frustrate me with an ire too often intense.
Sometimes, under my breath, I hear the words I'm mumbling,
"Why can't you understand this?" Then, I realize I'm grumbling.
I'm just a lowly human without a trace of Divinity to be found
so, I should be more humble, for I've not been royally crowned.
"Be tolerant," my heart whispers to my soul, as if it could hear.
"And be mindful," it said to my tongue, "words can bring tears."
I really should listen with more compassion and less askance.
I've no right to judge others. I don't know their life's circumstance.
Swallowing harsh words is a taste I should learn to find sweet
and conquer the bitterness of retorts... intolerance then I'd defeat.
People are not chess pawns that I can push around on a board,
and leniency should be allowed them across every stream I ford.
I don't control who walks the bridge with opinions of their own.
It's their right to have them, even if they're ones I don't condone.
I'll pursue being more tolerant of others and give them respect
and be sincerely diligent about this as a goal I should not neglect.
“Don’t look back
you’re not going that way”….
seems I’m not going
in the other direction
either…..well….slowly
exceedingly slowly….
My quick retorts come
too late to be
appropriate
too loud to be
ignored.
Few know
the depth
of unseen scars.
©12/28/2018
for Brainy Brevity Poetry Contest
sponsor – Maureen McGreavy
Oh, the gullible women threw themselves
at his intellectual poetry and prose.
To him, ah, he was as delightful as the scent
of a fragrant spring rose.
To their delicate dismay, they found him to
be a fraud and a sneak!
Inside, his forest green cape, they gasped!
Beware: HRM Prince Control Freak!
He was spreading evil talk amongst the princesses,
Causing dissension, heartbreak and not so
subtle hisses!
But Prince was simply righteous,out of some, to make fun?
The elixir of lies spread, by him was anything was droll
and humdrum.
He has changed, I am happy to loudly report!.
He has learned that others have their own views, not
in need of unwanted retorts.
8/6/2022
Ill at ease
Bacardi and coke,sipping,
Ripping a pal
She smokes a cigar
Feels out of sorts
Full of retorts.
But under the front]
She bears the brunt
She wants to be home.
Her man, so decent
Works hard
So recent.
Reached an understanding
To be non-demanding
Reached a peak
Decided to speak
Discuss the issues
Spare the tissues
It's good, not bad
No more jack-the-lad
He's the sun
He's the one.
Suddenly she knows
In the midst of the show
That she's loved...she feels
That her life is real.
She is a wife
She has a real life
She remembers the times
The nursery rhthmes.
Mama Mia's a blast
But see what will last
It's good to remember, good to dance
But life is real
Life is still a romance.
Labyrinth of Sighs
Wondering through a labyrinth of sighs
More platitudes with attitudes that never question why
A litany of afterthoughts about where we go when we die
An emboldened range of rude retorts refuting the reasons why I cry
A canon blazing wartime over a century ago
The night sky spent stargazing, wondering what we really know
A multinational conglomerate just phasing out more duplicitous advertisements that “flow”
A hungry orphan on a street corner, with nowhere else to go
Self-aggrandising promotion everywhere I seem to look
The wealthy uprising causing commotions, celebrities writing books
A typhoon on the island coast, Turkey on the day the earth shook
A morbid day that hurts the most,
An undignified Capatalist crook
The arrogant certainty of western superiority
The way the monotony forms around typecast minorities
The precedence of material goods conspiring to take global priority
The contradictions of individualism that consume the vast majority
The medical anomalies and surgical advancements
The incredible atrocities of cosmetic enhancements
A formidable ferocity of genetics and semantics
An incredible philosophy of frenetic theological pedantics
A sincere gaze of solidarity into another persons eyes
A mere phase of different polarities that use scientific graphs to signify
A Purple Haze of creative improvisational genius that cannot be quantified
A confused daze of inconvenience as another witness is proven to have lied
Returning to the central point of a theoretical discourse
Concerning a fundamental joint possible hypothetical recourse
A burdened soldier after war suffering the agony of remorse
An ancient boulder from the shores of civilisations geographic historical course
A curious mathematician, an inspiring original think
The spurious contradictions of a political candidate on the brink
A furious proposition concerning a scandalously placed eye wink
Human connectivity and the endless search for the missing link
Copywright Elizabeth Moroz
I'll always, forever
be just falling short
hopelessly hopeless
with angry retorts
I'm tired of losing
it's always the same
I'm finished with playing
a bottomless game
I'll never be stronger
or good enough, too
I can't reach expectations
that no one can do
insult me or taunt me
the matter won't change
failure is nearing
and I'm in it's range
I'm broken, I'm empty
no more last resort
winning's impossible
because I'm just falling short
The time has come your passing has happened
Your desire to live was never dampened
The great Scottish debate for you to stay or go
I screamed yes, but the haggis of your heart said no
The split of our nation represents the split in my heart
But now the time has come and we must part
Much like our dreams of reaching the sixth form debate final
“Page 32” you crowbarred into conversation
infuriating Ash to the point of self-immolation
your self important boasts of superior knowledge
turned my my weakened soul into watery porridge
You were not a stereotype, despite what many said
Unlike most Scots, you ate more than simply fried bread
Your challenge with crackers so lascivious that I lost my thread
And since then I yearned for a way to do more than simple observe your bed
But your aggression was endearing, cutting and clear
Tearing opponents to shreds, speaking to all that will hear
But I was behind a glass wall, simply shedding a tear
As a limp invitation to a party was the closest I could near
I sit here now and remember our lark
Our time together, characterized by a battle with a shark
The verbal brutality was shocking that situation was stark
But your retorts were quick witted, but often loaded with snark
This took so long to write as my heart still bares scars
An open mouth like yours could give hour long seminars
Yet you still saved me from being bundled into one of Bennet’s cars
Yet I must hope that we meet again, underneath heaven’s stars
He cries in grief at the funeral, he's just lost his best friend.
He passed away so quickly, but had been loyal to the end.
Observers remarked, he's not a real man, look how he cries.
But, what do you expect a man to do, when a loved one dies.
She's beautiful to the extreme, in countenance and form,
A real temptress, in every way, a star was born.
She makes an overture to him with a knowing smile,
He turns her down, says he's been happily married for a while.
She says listen here honey, a real man can't say no to me!
He says a real man understands the meaning of true loyalty.
He works hard every day, does his best to support his family,
After work some say hey, let's go drinking, have a real party!
He says no thanks, I should really be going back home,
I don't like to leave my wife and kids there all alone.
They said you're joking right, a real man does what he wants to.
He says that's not really the loving thing to do.
His neighbor says come on over, watch the game, in my man cave,
He says sorry, I promised the kids we would go out and play.
Neighbor retorts you're so boring, a real man has all the toys,
He says no, a real man grows up, leaves behind the traits of a boy.
On the highway going home, by mistake he cuts someone off,
The other driver is furious, yelling insults, and horrible stuff.
It continues for miles till they're both stuck at a red light,
The other driver get's out and tries to provoke him to fight,
Says get out of the car, chicken, a real man knows how to fight back
His mild manner turns away rage, self-control is his counter attack.
If your father never taught you, what a real man should know,
It gets so obvious as the years pass, it really starts to show.
All is not lost, just grow up, and assume your responsibility,
Then you will understand what it means to be truly happy.
John Derek Hamilton November 1,2015
My sleep is dream-filled now --
imagined scenes, practiced dialogues,
fervid comments, loving words --
never-voiced retorts.
I resist awaking, lie in bed
clinging to a dream world --
and to that mind-constructed me
within it -- to that better, truer self,
an ached-for rosy apparition.
Do not disturb my slumber --
let me lie abed and smile
until this waking world conforms
to the ideal one I build
in dreams.
naughty cat says, “nowww”
clever fox replies, “yak, yak”
both peed the mouse’ trap.
cock crows, “tick—morrow”
fox says, “hope no more sorrow”
get Cupid’s arrow.
cow says, “boo, boo, boo”
still, fox retorts, “go go go”
don’t give up fellow.
March 8, 2014 12.45pm
Inspired by the song: "What does the fox say?"
I don't really know what the fox says;)
First Place
Contest: What Does Fox Say?
Judged: 3/29/2014
Sponsor: My other greatest poet Skat
as it can b
here’s it-cursed
tossed,crossed,
lost-indentation
a winter numberer,may be
“evacc-ed ejectt inject deject-ed subjects - ”as you like it,man
“missed Ann entire year this year “
& ,repeat man
& ,re-did
off the racks,tip toes may-b
born born - born born to b
from there to the--comatose
“ the probabilities ”,man
&then comes-
comes-&then goes
&comes-&comes-
the shenanigans,, man
easy come easy go ,,go
she ,howlssays
the finale, now!
comes-
comes-comes-&comes-
rendezvous,, the definationn
inept incept product uncutt n undone
it don’t
it
bequeathes,,,,
In what is
in between jac and jill
“jesus, man”
here, a tar pit the yellowed trees all that eyes see cherry blossom through
&through and through and through and through and through
if it soothes-----reanimations
so many many ages ago
“probabilities man probabilities”
that’s about itt,, it seems
“the drudge magenta!,
as i knoww itt”
well for once “ so pretty ” shesays -cohorts
justt a dayy more we are closer
the white linens the blue coats the finest
frivolities all that is pristine
a well laid dining table
a desk to write read eat
a tree outside
the never ending vanity fair
“that the magic will live never will die
cause it’s automatic for people”says-Scot
“ patterns emerge as my prime
whiter s,man”----tells,Joe
a cup of tea-- tells Jon
“as much as you will like to mingle/&dangle-&mingle /
double dribble/triple./Onegin //all the wriggling the implausible imposing
,, nibble ,,all the book keeping
“the classic anecdote” iff i mayy ...
we are all only supercilious there’s more here to come”----Jim,, retorts tells
“to which i may”,tells jill
Beatnik Snaps
Onomatopoeia-topia
(poet sits on a stool in the café and begins)
I could onomatopoeia all day daddio
With cool sounds in the iambic pandemics sphere out there.
“Far out man…far out… Onomatopoeia all the way” (The crowd shouts and snaps fingers in approval.)
On the down winds jive below slow jazz notes I go
Goatee Joe eats the avocado on the down and low
Basements bottomless souls measured tuna outlet cries out
The bongo boys drag on the joint while munching on the tacos loco
Cigarette smoke lays down a cloud…talks to the humming bird
Laying down some heavy tones to the bones with the smooth sax
Cats calling in the alley way cruising on the cat nip trip
Waiting on a little miss kitty called Pussy Meow
She’s a no show Joe. Man, that’s no way to go.
In the wild thick woods of words working on his behalf
The half past 1952 Johnny, goes marching home
Alone down Bluesville Avenue in a zoot suit out back Jack
Slick black jacket looking for some chicks on the beatnik clicks
Snap!
Notes raining down on the sax as some jive time chumps
Get busted by some jive time cop
Flat foot flopping down the street with some flat foot beef to pound
Drowned on pounding grounds outside
Down in the drip drop flop of day….Grazing on the rain.
“Shows over Jack and Jill.”
“It’s been a thrill.” (More finger snaps from the beatnik crowd)
Debaucheries Departure
Sooner or later we gotta blow this café gig…..Dig?
Slurred speech measured beats by bongo boys bid a retreat
In matters like this …..tipping matters….and meter matters…My meters dry man.
We tapped out our tab long ago so….One last drink!
What’s your poison my onomatopoeia friend?…He retorts; “You’re right.”
“ I don’t want to pay it either”…. but we gotta get out of this joint.
What kind of iambic pandemics beatnik friend do you think I am?
In deed briated with liquid libations I guess….. (Snaps)
Research papers, book reports
witty remarks, smart retorts
of these things none can I do
but I still tried and so should you!
On our disparitive continuum
when after dusk the dawn is flowering
and skies aglow in rose chrysanthemum
have scattered banished darkness, cowering;
And when the silver drizzled fingerlings
traipse slippy streaks upon our timid hold
of dimpled melodies the robin sings
beneath an ever blinking marigold;
In oscillation then returns a choice
between relinquished self or dim retorts
where fools admonish rain and wise rejoice
reflective puddles pooled on tennis courts;
Since by the day is night from whence the day,
and by the morning clouds a midday rain -
in either or exists enough to say
that by the by for none should one complain;
For when tomorrow reigns and shadows clear,
while through replenished streams fresh water flows,
what babbles life in dawn ‘til stars appear
is that by which my daughter Lily grows;
And though at times unsmooth, my pendulum
will always sway by her empowering;
the brightest light on my continuum
whose love brought back a father, cowering.
4/7/2017