Best Scolds Poems
When a woman is just a woman,
she looks beyond the surface of
what is.
She understands the foibles of her man,
knowing from time to time
he’ll make mistakes,
and even though she wishes
he could have inside his chest
a heart as tender as her own,
she understands that men
are somehow different.
They do not often see things as she does,
but that’s all right.
When a woman is just a woman, she forgives.
But sometimes, lacking courage,
she lets her heart be ruined,
forgiving more than even God
expects her to forgive.
Other times, a woman isn’t the woman at all
God would have her be.
She scolds, demands, and lets her heart grow cold
in spite of everything her man may do
to fulfill her needs.
Such a woman can never be completely satisfied.
However, when a woman is just a woman -
when she lets her loving heart
guide her thoughts and actions
in equal measure with her lovely mind,
she does not let herself be governed
by mere whim.
Rationality and compromise are among her bywords.
Also, she knows how much to take
before she calls it quits.
But always and foremost,
She is merciful and fair.
And never is she too proud
to want for more
than a man
who is just a man.
For Skat's Any Old Poem #9 (poem never placed in a past contest)Poetry Contest
On my walk through the Autumn woods,
I hear the cracking crunch of leaves.
And whistling through the bare branches,
brisk breezes shriek like a banshee.
A chatty squirrel barks and squeaks
on my walk through the Autumn woods.
And as dusk dims, I hear an owl,
hooting lowly in the distance.
A woodpecker's tap, tap, tapping
echoes off a hollowed-out log.
On my walk through the Autumn woods,
Nature's natural sounds abound.
A chattering chipmunk scolds me
in a loud barrage of shrill chirps.
And I hear a gnarled old oak groan,
on my walk through the Autumn woods.
Garfield, a loveable famous, lazy cat,
Who likes to eat and eat, that’s why he’s fat,
Jon his companion, Garfield’s friend or foe dude,
On call twenty four seven, to give Garfield food!
The world knows their love hate relationship
And of course Garfield's innermost thoughts,
Each an amusing quip!
He is the cleverest, wittiest cat, he’s a star,
His charm, and fertile mind reaches afar,
He loves to eat, sleep and then to repeat,
His sarcasm no other cat could ever beat.
Garfield regards Jon as his permanent box changer,
Perhaps Jon should give Garfield a thought pager!
Garfield, shouts Jon, why do you everything scratch,
Don’t shout, you silly human, give me a scratch patch!
John emphasises, Garfield you’re lucky, you have
A teddy, a dog called Odie and a loving companion, me
What else could you want, a bowl of lasagne says he!
A mouse runs by, Jon says Garfield catch it, but
Garfield doesn’t like hurting mice,
And so says Garfield’s thought quip,
Will I ever get that through your thick skull,
Or do I always have to give you an earful!
Garfield teases big angry looking dogs, makes
Faces at them, and when they chase him,
Runs to Jon who picks him up and then Garfield takes
Advantage as he sticks his tongue out,
So the dogs attack them both, Jon
Scolds Garfield who looks at Jon, with a pout!
Garfield cartons were recognised and awarded
Top honours and were rewarded
With accolades, in the Guinness Book of Records
Congratulations to the author the late Jim Davis,
Who made billions and achieved worldwide status,
And who created these wonderful characters,
Manipulative and coffee dependant Garfield,
Not forgetting Odie and Jon,
All of who brought us laughs by the ton!
Garfield was an era, a striped, intelligent thinking cat,
Who refused to ever hurt a mouse, that’s a fact,
But who could eat lasagne every day of his life
As his greed for this meal was truly rife!
I could carry on forever, but will end with what
I think is a laugh,
Jon asks Garfield why he has got such a lot of
Junk in his bed,
Oh this, Garfield grins, it’s a whack bonk, with which
I am about to hit your head,
Our furry friend sarcastically said,
Rather, thought in the quip,
It’s a wonder that Jon didn’t chase him with the
Scissors, and go snip, snip!
Sol sheds scarlet tears from
His chariot of gold.
And slips off the Earth's edge
to explore depths untold.
Silver clouds hover low,
their bellies painted red.
And treetops gently sway
as the day's put to bed.
Warm breezes trade their heat
for cooling breaths of air.
And gilded waves flaunt a
beauty beyond compare.
Ocean tides ebb and flow,
rippling in the moonlight.
And an indigo sky
morphs into shades of night.
Silence scolds laughing waves
splashing against the shore.
And evokes a feeling
that the French call amour.
A taste of paradise,
where time and space standstill.
And lingering hopes give
romantic hearts a thrill.
(Quatrain)
1/18/2015
sun bleached porch swing creaks
a crow scolds a calico
bird seed turns to dust
2.1.2020
I'm new to this language; it baffles me so!
With so many mysteries I wish to know:
Why doesn't 'resolve' mean 'to solve it again'?
And why are 'wise guys' not the same as 'wise men'?
Why doesn't 'extraneous' mean 'once was traneous'?
Why's 'miscellaneous' not NOT cellaneous?
Enigmas that seem to me very unmappable,
Unflappable me has become simply flappable.
"You're incorrigible", my friend Mike said to me,
I said, "Corrigible I'll endeavor to be."
One museum we saw had a fossil exhibit
I asked, "Every bone was at one time a hibit?"
"I don't care for inquisitive people", said Mike.
So I asked, "What's a quisitive person look like?"
He looked at me plussed with a look of disgust,
now I hope I can change it to gust and nonplussed.
"Disgruntled employees", my boss said, distressed,
"are a pain in the neck!" I thought, "gruntled is best!"
He scolds my appearance: "Your hair is unkempt",
so I'm bringing a comb to make sure it stays kempt.
"Avoid work mishaps, and do not act unruly".
"Yes sir, boss. I'll only make ruly haps, truly"
He tells me, "Just try not to look so disheveled."
My note to self: make it my goal to look sheveled.
"Intrepid Improvements" the work poster says
"Avoid trepid provements" is my New Year's res.
"Such reckless abandon" someone said to me
so from now on, more reckful I'm hoping to be.
I've tried to appear nonchalant and undaunted,
I'm daunted that I'm more chalant than I wanted.
This poem I'll write in indelible ink -
…much better than delible ink, don't you think?
I left you with an iron heart oh sin
Never to come back to your cave
Your chains around me were burden I could not see
But in seasons, I found myself in the pit of sorrow and shame.
As a nail driven into a wood clings so tight
I stick to the cross that bears the burden I once own
And as I hugged it with my tower of power and might.
I received unmerited cash from above to pay the debt I owe
As a dog deaf to the hunter’s whistle
I walk away from your factory of fear and death
Laying aside the old man among the thorns and thistle
I now live a life free of sorrow and debt.
Though lions through the desert roar with cruelty
And serpent through the forest strikes
And winter drops and summer sword. Scolds my heart without mercy
That my soul be melted and bent toward worldly cares.
Then will my heart stand firm and straight
My eyes towards the crown of destruction be blind
And my wheels speedily will run towards the golden gate.
Because I have made up my mind
A Mother’s Love
She rises with the morning sun,
And starts her day out on the run;
When afternoon, the clock strikes one,
Her day has only just begun;
Why even when she’s having fun,
A Mother’s work is never done!
Her love is given one-to-one,
To ev’ry daughter, ev’ry son;
For even when she’s ninety-one,
A Mother’s love shan’t be undone.
Through all her joys, and all her tears,
For all her dreams, and all her fears,
Through all her days, through all the years,
Her children’s hearts, a Mother hears.
Sweet lullabies, and nursery rhymes,
She sings and reads at their bedtimes,
She kisses knees that made tree climbs,
And kisses cheeks a thousand times.
She teaches first what’s right from wrong,
She builds in them a spine that’s strong.
She scolds them when they tell a lie,
Provides strong faith which to rely.
When cupid’s arrow first flies by,
She comforts when things go awry,
She counsels each child not to cry,
But give it one more worthy try.
And when at last from nest they fly,
She gives her bittersweet good-bye.
The bond between them reassures,
A Mother’s love always endures.
And though a Mother’s work ends not,
It’s through her love what she has wrought;
Into this world each child she’s brought;
Each doctor, lawyer, astronaut;
Not ever has one once forgot,
They owe to Mom all that they’ve got!
I am cold and I drive myself away
From a grave made of clay
With yellow-colored edges,
And the earth as its lid.
I am cursed to accept myself...
A ghost with eyes and bones,
I am walking weak among the graves
While crying out some words.
Like a field holds a scarecrow,
The cemetery holds me in its arms
To drive away from the sacred graves
The old women from the crosses.
The priest scolds me in distress
For wandering at night through the city
With just my linen shirt
And a candle like a thread.
I am guilty of my sad night
That weighs upon my non-existence...
I am a ghost created from the rain
That washed my grave away.
The moon leans down with silver grin,
correcting me on where I’ve been,
insisting I should roam again~
the moon has far too many views.
It tells me clouds are overrated,
that sunsets leave it underrated,
that stars are show-offs gold-plated~
the moon has far too many views.
It scolds the tides for being late,
debates the wind on matters great,
and lectures night on how to wait~
the moon has far too many views.
Yet still I listen, charmed each night,
to lunar gossip, soft and bright,
because its meddling feels just right~
the moon has far too many views.
She knows she’s young
She’s lost her fun
In so little years
She’s filled with so many fears
Her momma scolds
Tells her she’s she got no hold
She sits and reads Matilda
Momma says to go out with her sister
She’s told she’s not pretty
She says she’s just a kid
They tell her without a boyfriend
She cannot play with them
She loves to Skip
She loves her toys
She just wants friendship
Doesn’t matter with girls or with boys
And as sixth grade ends and she’s lost her friends
Who are so eager to go and grow up
She decides to keep quietly to herself
Or else they’ll tell her to shut up
She loves being a kid
Still wants to play pretend
Doesn’t want to worry about makeup
Doesn’t want to worry about growth
Doesn’t want to style her hair, just wants to keep it short
Told she looks like a boy but she likes being different
Doesn’t want to be irreverent
She still feels like she’s eleven
And just wants to keep on shining
Wants to keep looking at the world as amazing
She doesn’t know what to do
She loves a man who’s 22
She knows she is much too young
And knows he thinks of her as young and dumb
He gives her a smile and walks on by
He calls her a “Pop tart” and gives her a high five
She dreams 10 years going by
When she’s allowed to be in his life
But she thinks then he’ll have a wife
And she’ll just dream of being the lonely bride
Will she have another chance
Was this her only shot?
She wonders what high school will be like
Will she be able to have another start?
She still wishes to make her mama proud
But she just wants a well primed child
She couldn’t be a beauty queen
And couldn’t dance or sing
She just likes to climb trees and read
And she still wants that into her teens
For this little twelve year old girl
Life was a nonstop whirl
The days go by too fast
She feels pretty soon she’ll be looking her last
As all her schoolmates gossip and change
She still wants to remain strange
She thinks about him everyday
And the days remain the same, the same
She’s older
She’s getting older
She’s getting older and she wants to go back
She takes old pictures, puts them in order
So that she can always look back
Bernard is writing Esther: "I have a family, a nice shed,
I always take the lead and have never in life been lead.
In the mornings I walk Jess, at night I drink rum, eat bread
But when I see you - can hardly breathe as if I'm already dead."
Bernard is writing Esther: “I have a pond nearby,
Children run there to swim, but often lie
That to swim. I’ve seen it all – Singapore from bird’s eye
From Iceland fjords to Somaly ore plies
But if you are taken away from me – I would die.”
Bernard is writing: "Income, finances, audit,
Jeep with a driver, stereo sound with voice of Edith,
And a thirty percent discount at favorite bar -
I can drink with no cards or cash or credit.
If you look me in the eye - God's staring from afar."
Bernard is writing Esther: "I'm forty eight like others of beau monde who are bald,
I recall who I am with help of visas, passport and driver's license - I'm old.
Flooded trench pit, nuclear grave digger scolds,
Subordinates like ninepins - I count their heads
But if words were also a currency,
Then you're out of my word league, flag of red."
“My little girl, you are just as beautiful as Banshee,
You’ve come to tell me I’ll die but not yet and not she.
Don’t write me, Esther, please don’t write. You’ll see
It's that I would not possess enough soul,
My old tired soul has been savaged by me.”
His lovely wife is named Heaven
She scolds him seventy times seven
Yet, Big Joe just never really cared
In Heaven he lives happily, hearing impaired!
Stacey Brown 2-6-14
Dr. Ram Mehta contest
Husbands are in heaven
whose wives scold not
Father's are special too little understood
Because we expect them to show emotions, " I know some women think they should.
"But if we could look into their hearts, then we could really see.
They are loving sentimental and as soft as they could be.
They strive to do their very best to make their family proud of them and bring them
happiness.
And like our heavenly father they are a guardian and a guide.
Someone you can count on and always want to be by your side.
He's also a Dad that holds you when you cry, scolds you when you break the rules. and
shines with pride when you suceed.
Continues to have faith in you when you think you have failed.
He even wants to catch you before you fall, "But instead he picks you up.
Brushes you off and let's you try again, and they are so wonderful they can even be your
friend.
"So if you are a father "remember" you are truly blessed because it was God who created
you and he don't make no mess!
Happy Father's Day
Once upon a time, in a place, not too far off,
In the dark, by the moon, there lived a family of moths.
Now, for those who don't know, a moth is like a butterfly,
but instead of vibrant colors, their wings are pale white.
Moths are known to come out and dance around fires at night,
and though it can be dangerous, they love its brilliant light!
When the sun would end its job and it was time to leave,
a family of moths would begin their late routine.
Their tradition was to dance around a yellow glowing flame,
of a streetlight, freshly lit, every eve, the family came.
-But there was one young moth who never did take part,
instead of dancing by the burning host, he preferred a star.
It seemed merely a twinkle, upon a branch of a great tree,
he felt, someday, if he could gain the strength, that star he'd reach.
Now his mother and his father scoffed and both would ask him why,
does he not join his brothers and his sisters by their side.
"Your brothers all are greatly singed, when will you take your turn?
Your sister's wings have turned to black, yet, you don't have one burn!"
Despite their scolds, despite their taunts, the little moth still aimed,
for that shining star he never knew was trillions of miles away.
He'd flap his wings, though he'd fly high, he could not ascend,
and every night, he'd fall just short and wait to try again.
But then, one day, he turned around and saw he was alone.
His entire family was gone, burned like butter on the stove.
And now that he was an old, old, moth he finally came to see,
that he, indeed, had reached his star, and it wasn't above the tree.