Best Scathing Poems
Mindful
Startled out of nonchalant light,
Wakefulness stands at attention
Ignited flame from the eternal candle,
Energized vigil of the watchman
At the soul’s dawning daybreak
Tingling in the presence
Of every dappled infinite breath.
Rotating eye of illumination
Watchful, like a lighthouse beacon hovering,
Charts rocks and shoals through clear oceans insight,
Every nerve exposed in circumspection
Sometimes cringing in wary expose
Often basking in the light touch of satisfaction
As niggling prophecy finds confirmation in revelation
Throwing off the blinded penury of antonyms,
Embracing flashing synonyms of wisdom,
Tears of the heedful heart touch drab puzzles poverty
To polish with refinement’s shine burnished enthusiasm
For the incandescent dancing mindful
Then banish chary strobes of destitute indifference
Reaching beyond self-centered parentheses.
A lantern of thoughtfulness in floodlights
Of full harvest shared – no scattered crumbs of bread
Baked to stone in scathing flashes of the false
Eloquent vigilant splendor - never morning extinguished –
Torch to awaken lambent radiance of clarity’s joy,
Identity of the pilgrim heart, ejects sightless shades
Mindfulness blends the conscious scattered fragments
For Mosaics in clear lit portraits of charity's open hands
Throwing off the numb stalker branded carelessness
Born of intentional ignorance
Seeker’s actuated incentive to the attentive –
To hear! To see! To feel! To move in birth!
Action invigorated by accentuated humility of grace.
Date Written 6-10-21
Best #1 Poem - September 2021
1st place Trophy Win Poetry Contest - Mindful
Included in Poetry Soup Anthology - It's Still Poetry
Ironic tears that spill are mocking me
in scathing streaks delighting down my cheeks.
They trace their paths as soft as fingertips
atop sad ivories caressing pain -
but shame me in their scalding disregard
and blame me that they even do exist.
I ache in death knell spiral of regrets,
their embers smolder as they stoke with ire
with flaring pain till nothing’s left but ash -
besmirched by lust reduced to worthless grey.
My life now but an aftertaste of soot;
sweet self-indulgence too much to withstand.
In sunset mood I grow my shadow’s length
in angst I’m reaching out midst twilight guilt,
beseeching in day’s fade Salvation’s light;
forgiveness of my own abandons me.
Oh, burn of sins does choke my soul in smoke
as tattered heart is purged upon the pyre.
Susan Ashley
February 2, 2018
~ First Place ~
Contest: Contest 600, Any Free Verse, Any Theme, Max 20 Lines
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Write !
Some madness banter of insanity
is pulling at my thoughts
spilling effulgent
in giant verbs and huge marching nouns
collecting snippets as it walks
stomping on flowers
and mushing liquid the paints of images
swirls captivated
with great toed boots
I can hear it coming
a hefty heavy steady stamp
and I am almost afraid that it might rack me
hit me hard
and demand some elucidated expression from me
I would shudder
but excitement won't let me
Instead it sets me to a creaking ball points
and tiny alphabets that strain my eyes
while spelling out its diffident request
Write it says
Write, while some half cold sickness grip my stomach
and I wretch on grammar
and thus the great feathers quill
dips in the ink of my soul
and so ineptly scribbles epilepsy
explanation, image, wordage, spillage of sensory lobotomy
partridge in a god-damn pear tree
Curl about my finger
and reek havoc through those dictionary brain cells
yer! smash them brain cells
mush, mash and squeeze the last drip
find expression in the gooey lumps that are left
WRITE ! god dam it !
Be succinct, be poetic
surpassing idiom and useless language
for Christ sake just WRITE it !
Pilloried on my own sheets of paper
by my own pen
because it never catches enough
as it twist this origami of words
i-n-t-o s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g
I want to express
I need
I want
To etch with you
A moment of perfection
I need your voices
I need to hear you sing my poets
I need these scratching and scathing claws
and I need your delicate dance
I need something to end this misery
and I need this piquant
this ever enlightened soul search of words
to wrap up this bundle of love
And toss me nonchalant into eternity
Lest some madness of bantered insanity
Takes hold of me
Dearest Sunlight, I Wait With Bated Breath
Dearest sunlight has thy glow ran away
Into a hideous canyon to hide
Please to dawn's glorious hour this I pray
Return, forgive me my arrogant pride
I watch night sky, its vast, glittering glows
Yet this lonely soul inward deeply cries
Beauty abounds as a heavenly show
Whilst on this sadden earth, love too oft dies.
Dearest sunlight, have mercy, please return
Life without you leaves but a bitter taste
And in these consuming fires heart so burns
While once so happy now all seems a waste.
Dearest sunlight, I wait with bated breath.
Life without you, tis but a fearsome death.
Robert J. Lindley, 7-07-2022
Sonnet
Note : Composed early this morn,
born from a dream.
As the dawn comes, it heart pleading for peace
flies morning dove, love borne with its release
but mankind blinded by world's scathing lies
walks a doomed path, such truth thus denies.
Neither shall ignorance, such dark defend,
When evil was clasped as busom friend.
A course-correction knife was plunged too late.
A smile was still, upon her lips, that date.
Clueless, for most of life, the cherries, green.
Her shoulder-bluffs and high-peak cheeks are seen.
She stands five feet, barely a statue-bold.
Appears quite warm with bundled arms of gold.
A pointed thumb at chest level. A charm
Bracelet does shake with silver-fake alarm.
The lyrics play a lycra-schmooze with stretch.
Uncanny walking cane, amidst homestretch.
A slide puzzle, her wrinkles crash and burn.
Only then, girl, a happenstance upturn.
A giving tree, with scathing sack of seed.
The dandiest scatters of yellow weed.
A field not quite a rose, with weaker stems.
A chosen path amidst headstones - few gems.
But remembered, oh yes. Her name engraved
and youthful picture set. ‘Tis what she craved.
A lonesome coyote howled deep in the wood
And a MOST unwise owl somehow misunderstood
Oh, alas and alack!
She rashly hooted back
(And she hooted as hard as she possibly could)
"Who the heck heeds my howl, for god's merciful sake?
Could this perhaps be my potential life mate?"
..."Give a hoot who you hoot at
if you don't know just who 'dat
You hoot at!" screeched the owl a wee bit too late
The gossip that followed defied explanation!
Squirrels scolded scathing and righteous damnation
The eagle screamed from his peak
"Don't even show us your beak!"
(An owl with a tarred and feathered reputation)
The coyote's good name turned muddy and mucky
Rumor spread like the plague so he never got lucky
"Your character is fowl"
Hitting up on an owl?"
(Last I heard he migrated to Kentucky)
She wailed her way into the world...
An avatar they said, Goddess Lakshmi had taken birth...
Her parents' pride, her brother's delight...
She loved and shone her brightest light...
She smiled she laughed in her radiant sight...
She didn't notice the prying eyes...
Pirouettes and piques, with aplomb she leaped...
Fell back on the earth, for a second it hurt...
Not losing her stride, among the cries...
She walked ahead, with her head held high...
Its a man's world, she was warned...
Not true she said, and walked along...
For she was proud of the woman she was...
She did not know of the waging war...
She had no right to dress as she pleased...
Her shorts were labelled as a tease...
She committed a crime when she refused his friendship...
She was punished by a splash of acid...
Pushed and shoved, groped and cut...
She burnt she bled, he simply fled...
It was her fault, said those in power...
She ate noodles, she should have called him brother...
She shouldn't have been out, late at night...
Well, he was justified in playing out his might...
She should have brought a car in dowry...
She wouldn't be laying, a lifeless body...
She gives life, akin to God...
Yet her life is an irony, unwanted... abort...
Lying about the scar on her face...
She tells her friends she fell down the staircase...
For she didn't know how to confide in them...
Of the scathing beatings, by the husband she'd wed...
Killing in honour of the holy mother cow...
Raping the honour of the woman of their house...
They'd given her wings, asked her to fly...
She flew away, and then they pried...
How dare she fly away so high, she was permitted to fly awhile...
Clip her wings, draw a ring...attach her to their pendulum strings...
Stamped her fate, sentenced to a cage...
Live like a prisoner, you deserve it, they say...
Yet they fold their hands in prayer...
To a Goddess, for their share...
For their share of golden glory...
While her life becomes another cover story...
An Devil's Dalliance
It was just one of those mornings?
Or at least I think it was, that is,
if I had created “morning’s” yet.
All my little angels trying out their
wings (in a strictly non-competitive
manner of course). I was slightly
distracted by Creation at the time
so some of the details are a bit
sketchy---the “all knowing” thing
a bit exaggerated---however I did
suspect some shenanigans within
a small group. You know, changing
the shape of the clouds, a seemingly
innocent diversion had become a
bit racy. They were playing with
rainbows and dabbling in an
evolving plot. Anyway, when “he”
showed me his “new” pet – the
duckbilled platypus - I had to draw
the line. After a thorough scolding
I sent him back down to clean up
the mess he’d made. A darkness
came over him (we call it anger now)
his wings darkened, his eyes glared,
a putrid wind arose beneath him
(the scent of defiant rebellion).
I still remember the sting of his
scathing good-bye. “I’ll start my
own “heaven!”. “I’ll be bigger than
you.”
“Until an hour before he left
I thought him beautiful”*
“I still do, for I know the
truth of who he is and wait
patiently for him to realize it.”
3/4/2016
*Arthur Miller, The Crucible
“Until an hour before the Devil fell, God thought him beautiful in Heaven”
submitted to Expand Arthur Miller’s Thought – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Julia Ward
You stung me with your waspish words
Injecting poison into my very soul
Again and again with those stinging syllables
Your words buzzed around my brain
Still you flew in and continued your scathing attack
It all came so easily to you
Viscous vitriol freely flows from your foul mouth
Deeper and deeper the venom seeps
You just stood there laughing at me
Continuing the little jibes and digs
Constantly belittling me
Criticising the way I look.
Mocking everything I say and do
Telling me I’m useless
The only thing you could never find fault with was my cooking -
I trained as a cordon bleu chef
My tears no longer flow
They have dried up like my self-confidence
Finally I can take no more
So I’ve cooked up a tasty little treat for you
Added my own special spice to your curry
I sprinkled flaked almonds on the top
They should mask the taste of the cyanide
Bon Appetite!
Dark and Twisted Contest Sponsored by Nathan D
09~21~15
why is it easier to look at you
through one eye as opposed to two
when we should be totally
enamored with the thought
we have come this far
we of kin, but enemies of spirit
cannot go on this way
a desert of parched emotions
cherry wood furniture atop marble floors
transformed our home into
an oasis of tears and coffee
this trivial mirage under scathing sun light
left us grappling for sustenance
be it water or be it love
empathy should be our cry
but with grey hair for a crown
these life stories on our face
we joust over flashbacks
and weakened rungs
The sheriff of Soup Creek has returned from Soup City once more,
after a run in with the judge, some bars and a concrete floor.
We cannot defend Mayor Tom they say it’s against the law,
maybe it’s time for something different, and switch to south paw.
Jenna and I received ten days in jail for contempt of court,
some sensitivity training and a scathing report.
The judge gave me one more chance to turn my nose brown,
or he will take away my badge and run me straight out of town.
We were locked up in jail without a proper investigation,
as for the actual lawbreaker, he just ripped up her citation.
Our saloon owner Jenna is still stuck there in that misguided jail.
They will not release her, and they refuse to grant her bail.
We need some volunteers to help us break her out,
she has not been treated fairly, of this there is no doubt.
They want us to be submissive and turn the other cheek,
but we need to form a posse and bring her back to Soup Creek.
*Note: This is a tale of honor in which the protagonist refused to tell his lady a truth which would have broken her heart, so instead he allows her to believe a lie, although it cost him her love.
Your tears stream salt into my open wounds
Equitable punishment for a scathing tongue
When deceptive words spilled from its fork,
my palate tasted morsels of amarum gall
Mea culpa Mea culpa
What penance do you deem to be delivered
for chafing injury upon your virtuous heart?
I have perjured myself with loathsome deceit
Condemned a liar, in weeping from your eyes
Deprive me of your kiss, as rain denies a flower
and I will crave death in a cold grave of darkness
Parce mihi, amica mea ~ forgive me, my love
The moment of reckoning weighs upon my brow
Mea culpa Mea culpa
To defend your innocence, I have readily sinned
For if truth I had told, it would've been a sword
and my hand, the one thrusting it into your heart
My life was loyally given; well worth one dulcis lie
Latin translations:
amarum ~ bitter dulcis ~ sweet
The sea summons in unrelenting whispers
haunting the night as waves spin their spliced harrowing tales
Hallowed echoes an unending scourge over tenderness
weeping secrets wait held in bondage’s everlasting kiss
Terrified to speak as translation becomes disloyalty
aching is betrayal and compassion is flammable fragility
One misstep and balance becomes twisted alienated from truth
as fear takes hold from these toxic dissonant words
Scathing reproach becomes buried beneath tidal swells
carrying out its inevitable pilgrimage towards unrighteousness
Cold suspicion scatters on the shores in broken shells
trapped by suffering and tormented by long ago betrayals
Decaying memories never lived once imagined still dwell unanswered
this is not love quietly whispers on the wind of denial's farewell....
Whiskey
Whiskey made a fool of me
exacting misery’s price
and for its luster and allure
left me always wanting more.
Whiskey took my sins away,
but briefly, they returned each day,
edges sharper from exile,
flames new fueled by old denial.
Whiskey, promises of peace,
drunken apple out of reach,
calming seas by pouring oil
setting stage for scathing boil.
Whiskey, sad magician’s maze,
comforter, or madman’s craze,
searching in the shifting sand
for images of shapeless man.
Whiskey, warrior disarmed,
closes reason with her charm
dashes hopes on ragged shore
leaving vanquished craving more.
Whiskey made a fool of me
but surely I consented.
Whiskey made a fool of me
but sure I was demented.
I wonder is the end nigh?
Hurricane Irma has brought it home.
Global warming in our face.
Out treatment of this Earth a disgrace.
Chaotic scenes filled our screens.
Perpetual rain battered broken homes.
Public hysteria as Irma spiraled high.
Tales of calm in the hollow of her eye.
In her wake a cacophony of voices.
Scathing at the government's choices.
Ignoring the apocalypse heading our way.
The kaleidoscope of weather patterns today.
Is it too late to turn the tide?
We see it rising fast worldwide.
They say we reap what we sow.
Now no one can deny they know.
11/09/2017