Best Rile Poems
I'm hearing rumors that are easy to believe
but none of them give me reason to grieve
You've been telling people their poetry sucks
Words from your mouth flow in a fetid flux
What arrogance is revealed in your slander
You don't rile me enough to raise my dander
The absolute truth is that I just don't give a fig
Your remarks show you to be an arrogant prig
How dare you disparage so many other poets
People call you 'rude' in case you don't know it
I've laughed at your slurs and each bitter assault
If the truth hurts your feelings, it's all your fault
You've mocked and criticized lots of poetry
making you a monster with green-eyed jealousy
I've heard from many, and in their point of view
'they' say you're a nasty male version of a shrew
There's been quite an extensive survey taken
and the unanimous results should jolt and awaken
you to see that on you this request they bestow...
The message: "Open your big mouth and eat crow
Oh, but that is something you would never do
so there'll be no lamenting nor feelings of blue
No tears of sorrow on the smiing cheeks of many
of those you've insulted, and there's been plenty
Upon my sunshine when yesterday rains
Dwelling in my present uninvited
Clueless of today's closing arguments,
The joy of tomorrow my new-dawn claims
No point whispering to lovelorn woes
When I can sweet-talk to portrait of love,
And paint my canvas in vibrant brush-strokes
Exactly as I wish to see you tomorrow
In the domain of yore, yesterdays rile,
Today's much better when I see your smile
But in your tomorrow is the mystical draw
Holding secret promise of heavenly awe
If the past takes back to a wintry storm
And all I recall is the shrouded form
I think of the way the seasons change
As the Spring of tomorrow shines your day
Yesterday's twilight warns dusk of today
Stars of the night don't come out every day
But hope is eternal and patience does pay
If I wait till tomorrow, I will have my say
When glorious daybreak smiles on my sky
Vanquishing doubts my dreams fly high
Not a hint of the known obstructs my view
As the allure of tomorrow I rejoice in you
In the domain of yore, yesterdays rile,
Today's much better when I see your smile
But in your tomorrow is the mystical draw
Holding secret promise of heavenly awe
November 15, 2018
Placed first in the Tomorrow poetry contest by Edward Ibeh
Placed 3rd: Strand select 7 contest by Brian Strand
Some people take to Facebook
In an effort to create
A safe and pleasant habitat
Unfriending those who wish debate.
But still rile against a college chum
Who's not lost their winter weight.
We drone on about the weather
Far too often before we die.
Talking incessantly about our children
To those unfortunate to catch our eye.
But fail to address substantive issues
And I have to question why?
No religion, politics or talk of sex
To free us from our doubt.
Avoiding issues that may offend
Seems the safer route.
But spotting the neighbor wearing spandex
Deserves a rapid shout.
No fossil fuel or global warming talk
To change us from our course.
And any attempt to grow our minds
Is met with dogged force.
It's far better to speak of gardening tips
Which we heartily endorse.
We close our eyes and dim our ears
To the thornier things in life.
And may indeed find sweet sanctuary
From unwanted social strife.
But rest assured we'll have wasted much
In a desire to escape our neighbor's knife.
We avoid such talk and play it safe...
Our true essence hidden from the fray.
But I have to tell... my greatest fear
That haunts and tasks me to this day.
Is when we stand before the gates of Heaven...
We'll have nothing much to say.
The End
*Check out my cartoon on Webtoons Dave McHattie.
When cover of a book teases us to pry
Courted we're by sound of their voices:
Writers, creators, poets, and scholars--
Inviting us to virtues of wisdom inside.
If we can hear the sound of galleries
And the renaissance of cultural history
Wowed by music, sculptures, and paintings
We are attuned to the voices of artists.
When strings strum atop a music box
Cadence that moves us is voice of guitar,
Singer then bends the voice of lyrics
As we respond to the rhythm of music.
Emotions rile in disharmonious voices
Uttered by traffic, streets, and buildings
Contrasting soft tunes of rustling leaves
And whispered voices of whistling winds.
Voices are poems, feelings, and smiles
Tears and fears or trumpets of joy;
Sopranos singing of victories and defeats,
Agents of goodwill or messengers of cries.
December 3, 2018
Placed first in Voices poetry contest by Silent One
Placed first in February 2019, week 3 contest by Brian Strand
Water they have kicked into the air on the sidewalk;
drowning scent of welcome rain, while they talk.
Hopscotch, doodle shapes chalk marks dissolving,
impulse, a test of youth, on one foot jumping.
Tease of laughter neath wet red umbrella…
Soft lips rile sunshine with the taste of vanilla.
Warmth flutter in response with no more talk.
8/9/2021
'Your Favorite Rhyme Poem in August 2021' Contest Info
Sponsor Constance La France
Flushed hands spill passion, softly wild
In languid explosion words rise
With heaves of angst and rapture piled,
Spewing phrases... untamed, unwise.
As rhymes burst, whirls form in my chest
From twilight laced ...hours rile again,
Down fingertips my soul’s unrest
To bathe on verses from dripped pen.
A language of fire scents my mood
That aches when love and rage entwine;
Till inspiration blooms, renewed
Beneath stars, veiled words lift my spine.
In the marrow, blot of ink clears
Offering a page new frontiers.
...............
Regina Riddle's Writing Contest
8/11/2014
Soft as quicksand is the ground beneath the feet
of those whose words attempt to rile and defeat
Thrown stones cause few ripples before they sink
Crass sycophants fill their pens with delible ink
Barbed sticks tossed never hurt their quarry
Never scratch the skin or give cause for worry
No bones do they break with sly baited remarks
A witless dog tries to bite with nippings and barks
Their rattling and prattling bounce like empty echoes
given off by insectivorous terrestrial lizards - geckos
I often watched him tirelessly sifting
Grains of native corn in a rusty mill-
Those arms a kinetic flush, quicker than
July’s heat, as if glazed limestone rubbed
A wavy mane blown by summer’s tossed air :
Perhaps, I have imagined him laboring-
Muscular taut and bronzed by scorched hours
His gait languidly aloof fetching water
Across the pond, a lonesome vignette,
This image cast-off like a bag of disused husk
Far out behind, steep as the upturned leaves...
Eyes doleful flickering on late noon’s hardened toil.
While upon paddles, a man’s life seemed to rile
Where golden-rod turned to nickel's work,
That down old chutes rolled musky sweat of flesh:
I have beheld him amid dusk’s aftermath
Of sadness roaming there in faint overalls,
From his glimpses, the mill of pit and death
And each lily I clutched for him wilted, sagging-
For in my own aloneness, I dared not meet him.
Gristmill Contest for Craig Cornish
6/3/2018
I listen to whimpers as duskfall nears
Finding a gangly waif rile from burnt skin;
My feet throttles along…his grin appears
With palm half-filled with dimes circling therein.
We talk warmly about this waif's despair
Of how prayers- heal abating such plight--
As he shares moist wheat-bread in hours that bear
A street child’s gentle spirit… on etch of night
Gazing far I see the boy wave his arm
As if to echo our words that console :
But from heart’s pit, he enkindles a charm
Restoring my sense of kindness… now whole.
*
3rd place
NA- Re-run 7 Contest of John Hamilton
Originally Written 6/9/2020
Judged 6/9/2020 Re-submitted 6/14/2020
"Dead leaves lay still until the wind takes them
here and there: even the last flower is withered:
yet there is a beauty in decay. "
Quote by _Constance La France
No annoyance of fall! No rile! No rage! No wrath ever!
Resignation, rather, O leaf, has been your endeavor!
Dead? I will never dare to say! You are like life, zestful,
Just your physique and psyche have made you a bit restful;
Isn't death, like the now-old frail flesh and blood of yours, a truth?
Doesn't the sweet thought of the resuscitation, your mind sooth...?
Winds shake your stay, like the angels carry the upright souls,
Don't dread or fled or fright though turbulence shatters your goals;
A prisoner and the police? A slave and the master?
Nay, you are like a child who is saved in a disaster;
Will creatures that do not alter their selves ever revive?
Midst your extrinsic decay, dear leaf, you're fully alive...!
The sky wears cozy costumes; the colors of clouds alter;
The sun and shower evade the earth; galaxies falter;
Earthquakes arise; volcanoes erupt; little flowers fade,
Within you, O leaf, are many an optimistic shade;
Move on with all miraculous powers and forces fair!
Till you dwell in dignity of divine decorum rare...!!!
05 June 2023
Writing Challenge - D Quotes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Rhymes Checked At: Rhymes Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
You have betrayed me for the last time
You No longer get to know whether I'm fine
Done with the lies
Done with the hate
Go away two-faced people
I have enough on my plate
No more issues
No more attacks
No more knives
Stabbing me in the back
If you can't handle my happiness
Or the way I live my life
Then walk away from me
Cuz I don't need more strife
Take your bull and everything else
And let others deal with the damage dealt
I told you not to try
Else you'll rile the beast inside
I practice the right thing to do in situations
I teach these practices to children
I preach staying calm and in control
But when my emotions grab my soul's heart
Watch out! Stand back and pray
I think I am ready to show my tolerance and kindness
I should be fully prepared to give them a voice
But when they rile me up, and twist me backwards
All logic and well-thought-out intentions
Fly out the window and slide under a gooseberry bush
So here I go again, improvising.
A lie told of a lover past,
went off in you like a mortar blast.
It was brief,
and before I knew you,
but you'd never see that like most people do.
Though he never posed a threat, it put me forever in your debt.
The debt to pay, not monetary.
It broke me down psychologically.
Accusations came from deep in the blue.
You'd say, "I can never trust in you".
Though I know it was unfounded, I believed it was my fault.
It was something I did
that gave you the liberty
to mercilessly berate and torment me.
To watch me give, bend, break, and prove,
and I did it all
because I loved you.
But when it got too much to take,
I'd shut down and pull away.
So then you'd bathe me in love and adoration,
talk of a family, a future,
show patience.
You'd act like it would all get better, but then you'd slip
and start spitting venom.
Your eyes would darken and hone in on me,
and I would sit there anxiously.
For I always knew what would come next,
you'd rip my heart right from my chest.
You'd tell me I was low caliber,
used up, pathetic
not as good as "her".
The onslaught would last until you ran out of steam,
then you'd wake up so differently.
The color returning to your eyes, you'd act with remorse,
sometimes you cried.
So, I would forgive.
It's the way of my heart.
The ticking clock would again, restart.
I watched you lie and smear my name.
Harming me, the goal of your twisted game.
You never spoke the honest truth, knowing the finger would point at you.
Your past of jealousy, abuse, and damage
had grown too vast for you to manage.
The warnings came, but I ignored them, convinced you were a different man.
But the isolation had crept in,
slowly withdrawing from my kin.
I was spinning fast out of control, nothing solid to have or hold.
Then you'd come back and show me love,
and I would believe it was enough.
Stuck in a bond so traumatized,
That leaving made me feel I'd die.
There's a monster that lurks behind your smile,
diabolical, cruel, easy to rile.
Caught in your crosshairs, I couldn't see
that loving you was killing me.
Stealthily and with no invitation,
Wicked Mischief rides into my night,
dismounts and strides inside. How impolite!
For rudely she intrudes - this aberration,
bearing that unholy “deprivation”
strongly brewed with venom of her spite,
and if I can, I’ll try to expedite
her speedy flight; thus my liberation.
My desperation’s growing all the while.
Can I fight her power? Can I flee
her whisperings unceasing that so rile
me? Oh, precious seconds gone! I see
light of day. Sweet sleep she did defile.
Insomnia has wrought fait accompli.
March 9,2014
For the Love or Hate, Pick a Subject 2 Poetry Contest of Shadow Hamilton
I hate Wicked Mischief!!
The hillsides are covered
with miles of Scotch Broom.
Pretty to see
but an allergy doom.
This transplanted weed
should not be here.
It causes allergy symptoms
most of which are severe.
Some one once decided
Broom belonged in the garden.
That person's now reviled
and should be begging our pardon.
Early Spring the citizens
with their spades go out
trying to eradicate all
Scotch Broom that's about.
But it grows and grows
and will not die.
Bad for the allergies
though pretty to the eye.
Beneath my window
is quite a display.
My sinus reaction
is the same as to hay.
I sneeze and I sneeze,
my eyes water and burn.
Lovely as it is,
I'd rather have a fern.
Oh yellow and bright
Scotch Broom you are
the most annoying plant,
and that is by far.
Go away, go away
back to your isle.
It's allergy season
and my sinuses you rile.
This ode to the Broom
is sincere and real.
Please cease and desist,
that is my appeal