Best Riles Poems


Premium Member Despicable

Pigtails loosen yet messed, 
twisted by pliant fingertips
of evening’s devilry…  
tracing her budding breasts,
embers gleam from a lamplight, dim…
his jerked breathing quickens to rake 
this young, tender flesh---
from pink , blood red, to pale yellow... despicable!

Invading her territory,
the blister of muffled silence
grates adolescent wails,yet…
crazed feasting of desire remains.
She quivers under a toppled quilt
brushed in wounded cotton...despicable!
And while darkness slides on metal frame,
he riles, riles with abandon,
grinning under a sinister moon
arsenic as the sweat of male hunger
to ravage a girlish body...  trembling, trembling
while her cupped mouth stutters,
‘Please step-dad, no!’
‘Hush…dear baby, I am your angel,
guarding you from evil wolves..despicable!

Quietly, he pins the knob of conquest
until the frail child's porcelain doll
splatters on the floor, and then…


.............
Re-Posted /1/2017
Contest: Let's Talk About It
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux

A Cursed Fate


The child is born, and they must rejoice
Alas! It’s a girl, there’s no choice
And she grows, oblivious
Of the fate that awaits, devious

She cooks and cleans, and the laundry piles
No time for books, and her brother riles
Isolated from the outside world
The beauty unveils, hair curled

Her face hidden beneath the veil
Act coy, for she must avail
A worthy family, a rich mate
For the sake of status, a bait

Money spent, the exchange done
She has no place to run
A caged bird is sold
Her destiny until old

She is blamed, accused
At times bruised
Unable to endure
And made obscure

Death looks more appealing
Its dark abyss, enticing
She reaches the verge
But resists the urge

The fire blows out
And she screams and shout
None showing haste
As the blaze gets a taste

Her death is forgotten
And the law, rotten
Her pitiful soul heave
No one to grieve

 (15 Dec 2015)

Premium Member The Poet Tree

writing is struggling
climbing through tangled branches
of octopus trees

and it riles the leaves
to try to do as you please
when you're not at ease

so to pair a phrase
in the tangled web they weave
be cool as you can

words are as number
just measure the tree lumber
each step of the way


stan sand
© Sand Blown  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member The Effrontery in Black

Life is so very important, a potent
inhale and exhale; even in the womb;
and who is he who dares to take life…

Who walked on the Galileean sea?
Whose feet felt the deep’s waters,
but stayed atop the rambunctious waves?
After all, who created the sea and
its boundaries? We say His name,

even when we breathe in and out.
So who dares to take out what He
has created - the effrontery in black.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
the conscientious martyrs -
those who hold up the Word of God,
not the coward’s knife, gun, or hate.

Blood mixed with tears on the cross.
*He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace
was on Him* - you know His name.

This was peace made between
God and man; peace that riles up
all of hell. Some embrace this peace.

If you remember anyone’s name,
the martyr, likewise, would have
you recall the name of Jesus Christ.
The martyr closed his eyes and
opened them up to the one who gives life.

*from Holy Bible, book of Isaiah chapter 53

Premium Member Political

It's not supposed
to be an easy subject
but with today's catastrophe

of government intrusion
into personal affairs
it was detrimentally

inspiring rustic entanglements
of superfluous verbiage.
It had to be reckoned with,

constructively analyzed
in an attempt
to make sense

of inane activities
illuminating illusive ideals
tempting truthfulness

bestowed by lack of
meaning and honesty
It riles the masses

to believe in uncompromising
conceptions decorating
dreams of times passed.

Living Dangerously

A moon interrupted; 
riles the social class. 
A native sense comes of age.

Piercing stare becomes rarefied,
unbuttons the peaks and 
kills you with a mallet.

The scared mask falls 
off the divine embrace, lets 
free the pigeons from the golden cage.

The forked tongue will 
speak only truth. Blood 
was the only stain, washed easily.

I will get the tan 
in moonlight only. My scars 
will remain invisible in silver.



Satish Verma


A Few Things That Please Me Now

Instead of walking briskly, I often shuffle:
Watching TV I’ll cough, sniffle and snuffle:
This riles my wife and creates a kerfuffle,
Then flipping channels - her feathers I ruffle!
Such are the things that please me now!

Will nap in the chair, till dinner is late:
Or eat peas from my knife: to aggravate.
After jay walking, the motorist I berate!
Will say what I think; tell others straight
What’s on my mind, which makes some irate!
But they’re the things that please me now!

I lecture my children - it’s something they hate:
Bore them with old tales I repeatedly relate,
It drives them to tears, so they often state,
Or makes them angry! I love to infuriate!
It’s more of what pleases me now!

Slurp my coffee and saucer my tea ;
Dunk my biscuits when in company;
Will openly burp and quite often loudly,
Which makes others blush by acting badly,
Just doing a few things that please me now!

When my wife calls: I’m not to be found,
Should she call louder? I hear nary a sound!
Offer unwanted opinions that shock and astound,
Argue for hours, stubbornly standing my ground,
Sure these are things what please me now!

But when day is done: I head off to bed,
Though never admit to things I’ve done or said
As tomorrow might be too late - I could be dead,
Will mumble I’m sorry for the dance she’s been led,
That’s the time for what best pleases me now!

Rhymer November 27th, 2016.

Nostalgic Yellow

Nostalgic yellow,
striped in black,
moves so quickly,
takes me back.

Nostalgic yellow,
Riles the air,
blowing tempests
through my hair.
At day's beginning
always there,
along with sunshine
brings despair.

Nostalgic yellow,
hated, mocked,
by kids who wake
at six o'clock
Windows open,
doors would lock.
In wisdom's belly
It shall dock.

Abiding by the
Golden rule,
Nostalgic yellow
takes the fool,
and in its jolting
metal flight,
Nostalgic yellow's
off to school.
© Gael Attal  Create an image from this poem.

An Antidote For Hopelessness

When silence comes to surround you
and the past riles up to drown you. 
Call upon your inner wealth
when you’ve become a shadow of yourself. 
Find your way through the disguise 
of all your own lies. 
Separate the real
from all that you deal.
With baby steps face the wrong
and now the weakling is becoming strong. 
Shaking off the cold 
and the long winters hold. 
Remember what was so real
and how cotton cozy that made you feel. 

Don’t ever think it’s too late
to reclaim your God given fate. 
Mercy and forgiveness play their role
as pain and sorrow take their toll. 
What ever road that we must face 
there is no one else who can take our place. 
So as we ride the tide let us come clean not hide..... 
our champion spirit that lives inside.

Premium Member Scary Scary Scary Moments

All time and effort lay, all that's best prayed
My one last say to be at last safe and paid
Though I got strayed and had been left to right swayed
All that's best prayed, all time and effort lay

Outcasted without trial, dismissed with deep vile
Grins taste of bile, nerves a fluttering volt of riles
No one to take hold with those futile ill revile
Dismissed with deep vile, outcasted without trial

They kiss without goodbye to free one last sigh
Forgiveness: legion of solitude, don't defy
Careful to tell not a lie, speaking with mind's eye
To free one last sigh, they kiss without goodbye

A hot stupid pride, a dip to cool in a tide
With turbulence, I still stride and take the ride
Indefinite guide, even nebulous hide
A dip to cool in a tide, a hot stupid pride

Too scared to give a try, too scared of break and cry
Bended knee, juiceless but I don't like to die
Tumbling to reach solely the wide ocean sky
Too scared of break and cry, too scared to give a try

(c) Olive Eloisa
2:15 am
June 02, 2014

Contest Name: Scary Moments
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
5th place, to God be the greatest glory!!

A Mundane Pain

Much Trump business is both mundane and plain;
Has hair that becomes a big mess while in rain;
Up people he riles;
T for Trouble dials;
Common sense lacks any not having a grain.

Jim Horn
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Kids Are Funny

Kids are funny
Funny like me
Funny to see
But kids are not squids
Nor katydids,
And
Squids are not bunnies
Katydids don’t like honey
While kids are chummy
With you
And me
And he
And she!

A child has fun
Smiles and runs
Hides from the sun
Though cries when done
But 
The wild one
Named Kyle Pezunn
Tried to be quicker
And slicker
Plus lied 
To me
And he 
And she!

When Kyle gets mad
His smile is sad
He piles on brad 
Which riles the lad
Though I’ll be glad
Coz
Brad is bright
And backs from the fight
Which is right
For him
Plus me
And he
And she!

So boys and girls
Make noise and twirl
With toys that whirl
And joy will curl
Around everyone
Even 
Kyle Pezunn
Who is no quicker
Nor slicker
Or better
Than me
And he
And she!

Premium Member The Hawaiian In Keanu

From one film to the other, your creative styles,
Rebels joined, save a world, then you, sacrificed a girl,
Online programmers that you had caused their riles,
Mr. Santino wanted New York as part of his world,

New bodies agents inhabit, mafia's list, you've been added,
Earned right to learn 'new school', while brother played you for a fool,
Oracle knew that you're the one, as bodies piled while on the run,

Trinity loved you, that you knew, with a price on your head, all wanted you,
Only machines rule off humans' body heat, get Santino, so to be complete,

Just when things weren't cooling down, Cassian searched all over town,
Of the agents, leader wanted to get ahead, on the train, he wanted John dead,
His team want to rescue their own, Cassian he warned, or he wont be around,
Neo wanted to go alone, instead, but Winston told John, "Not here", he said,

World saw the light, Neo did the trick, John didn't have it, he must split quick,
In rousing dance, chants, people are one, eyes o'er shoulders, he's on the run,
Can Neo have a new machines flick, more dinner reservations, 3rd John Wick,
Keanu's versatile--better to none, persona and lifestyle, simply being #1.

~~Born 09/02/1964, Beirut, Lebanon, mother English, from Essex, UK, dad American, from Hawaii, mixed race with Native Hawaiian lineage~~
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Directly

another human’s art
affects directly---it
drills down into the core,
lifts up from inside,
inspires behind the eyes,
burns away the tears,
creates tears of smiles 
when a deadness & a
numbness was though to be
all that remained,
stirs up a group of angry
folks into compassion,
riles up the stagnant &
supposed hopeless into fury,
relates one to another,
stops time to involve only
sentiment & experience in
memory, communicates
where nothing else shed
understanding, gives a 
soundtrack when imprisoned---
a resistance of the heart
that can defeat all those
who did the locking up,
sings each of us into that 
final deep sleep when the
flat line finally arrives &
ushers in the next generation
accidentally, like a spark 
from a friction fire stick
burrowing into the
tinder.

The Funeral

Respects have been paid
by those with good manners
and by the mawkish with
restrained curiosity

And now, I sit in a chasm of nothingness.
Raging seas crashing from my eyes,
whith salty rivers running from my 
nose to the tip of my tongue

My day is slate grey with
nimbus clouds abroad.
And my ambivalence riles
against a once merciful Being

No longer registered are the passing 
differences between the sun and moon
or the advancing hours of a stagnated clock.
Gone are my reasons for either

I have become Omega, last of my family.
And now I sit, beneath a canopy of pain.
Waiting for her whisper.
Oh, dear God. Let it be soon.

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