Best Sour Grapes Poems
We sat upon the rocks, my love and I
Atop Mount Cadillac, there by the sea
And as a doubloon sun slid down the sky
I asked her, with my ring, to marry me
Now it was not to her, complete surprise
For we had often talked of marriage, soon
Yet 'tween the Tanzanite to match her eyes
A limpid diamond now shone with the moon
And while I'd worked so hard to fill her needs
To tend our bloom of love and help it grow
That ring so cut my heart, (and still it bleeds)
For back it came with one sharp edge of "no"
Then, as I rose in soundless rage to leave ...
I gave our love and that damned ring ... a heave.
Ten syllables/line, counted at HowManySyllables.com
I penned a great poem for a contest
Glowing comments stated it should place high
When winners appeared I became distressed
I'd failed to place and released a sad sigh
I silently seethed, didn’t breathe a word,
I held back tears, eyes started to glisten
The placing by this judge was so absurd
I held my tongue as no one would listen
The sponsor had been blatantly unjust
All the winners ignored one simple rule
'Winning’ poems used words of such disgust
That judge proved to be a dim-witted fool
I’ve now completed my sour grapes sonnet
If I’m on Mark’s list, I’ll eat my bonnet!
Sour grapes Sonnet Contest
* didn't counted as 2 syllables not 1 as per how many syllables
Poem written for sour grapes contest theme and is not aimed at any particular sponsor
8/16/18
Lemons make you pucker
If you bite into their pulp.
Limes produce a juice to make you
Grimace as you gulp.
Other fruits are bitter
But there’s one with no escapes
And you can tell, by someone’s face,
Who’s eaten sour grapes.
Those who have partaken often
Find someone to blame.
Others have it in for them,
Is what they’ll try to claim.
Though their feelings might be hurt,
That’s something they won’t share;
But they’ll spew forth their anger
At the ones they deem unfair.
Maybe even sour grapes
We’d view as more benign
If those who bit them, chose instead
To make them into wine!
I know the words you use to slander me.
Your slurs mar your own virtue, not my hue.
You slam to smear cloud fuzz on your heart’s plea
that once upon a joy, sought my “I do.”
We loved with our best try for many years,
We merged a child whose sweet melts both our hearts,
Plus, we shared life’s high feels and lowdown sears.
Our past lacks sense when you throw verbal darts.
Our kind son does not know that pride-wounds speak,
but well knows ache thus aimed by slams you throw.
In time, our child will view your mind as weak
and prone to fed truth’s seeds to lies you grow.
You spew sour grapes with each ill voiced broadcast.
Please, spread not tart to false mark our joined past.
... CayCay Jennings
August 18, 2018
howmanysyllables.com
The teen’s face beamed with pride in his new car,
But Bestie exploded in jealous rage.
His reluctant congrats, a lame sidebar;
“I’d simply rather walk”— framed his outrage.
On Friday she failed the entrance exam,
Going to college, now holds no desire,
Higher education—a real flimflam,
she declared, all she’d felt now a fool’s pyre.
Excuses shirk blame—we can all decry,
Winning is fun, but losing kills yearning;
Life isn’t perfect—things do go awry,
But disparagement isn't good learning!
Be strong and just—suck it up when you lose.
Raisins are just sour grapes—with a bruise.
August 19, 2018
When I was young, I spent one summer day
at Grandma’s. There, some grapes I spied looked fine.
Yet even now I can’t recall the way
they grew! I'd known that grapes grow on a vine,
and yet on vines I don’t think these grapes grew.
I’m picturing them on a bush instead!
I’m pretty sure they seemed a hue of blue,
or were they purple? Tempted, I was led
by their plump look to pluck them eagerly.
A child was I, and simple things I found
like lovely grapes could fill my heart with glee.
I tasted one; then spat it on the ground!
How like those grapes are other things I’ve tried
in life – things looking sweet, yet sour inside!
Written Sept. 1, 2018
What gratitude is of greater reprise,
Appraisal sought within four wall confines.
Yet tests congure my personal demise,
Subpar intelligence is redefined.
Determined only by pure blood descent,
Whose family heritage dominates.
But haste, why linger, such foul discontent,
Saved from years of unethical debate.
Bitter sweet rejection bore new mercies,
Undrained from society's precedent.
To pursue a life without fallicies,
Devoid of tragic human sentiment.
For now, I delight, reap labour's success.
My life is all mine, to live and to rest.
Sour Grapes
Their third trip now...again to Italy;
first two by air that landed into Rome.
They're on a cruise ship now near Sicily...
it seems they're always out and never home.
We were invited once to come along;
thank goodness that for us it could not be.
Between our work and cost, it would be wrong
to satisfy ourselves so stupidly!
How boring being stuck on a cruise ship...
all one can do is watch the sky and sea!
Exploring foreign lands...well, this we'll skip;
the people will be snobs, we guarantee!
We'll just vacation in our cozy yard...
when they return, their tales we'll disregard.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Sour Grapes
Sponsor: Mark Massey
Judged: 09/11/2018
(Fiction for Contest)
When thoughts like lightning streak across my mind
In brilliant flashes of the clearest hues
If turning them to words on page I find
My efforts and advances are refused
I oft will turn my ire towards the page
Until the subject on which words won't form
Dies crumpled in a ball of poet's rage
With judgement as capricious as a storm.
Yet in the calm that comes when storms have passed
As daylight drys the anger from my eyes
I see the mound of paper there amassed.
With clarity -- of sorts -- I realize
The vision that I first thought so sublime
Was never worthy of such skill as mine.
8.16.18
Contest:Sour Grapes
Syllable count checked on howmanysyllables.com
(Although it is incorrectly counting "poet's" as 1 syllable)
It is my observation that
those who violently oppose the opinion
Or belief of another
their own self bias disclose
I want to believe
In a power
Greater than my own
To have a hope
For an anchor to grope
In seas starting to foam
And how is it
dermis
Off your nose
What others are
Moved to say
And why does
It so solidly grind your gears
What some happily choose to relay
I fully disagree with you
but not your right
to speak it
I just make a note
for future time
to be sure not to seek it
The idea I have entertained Of those
who don't want Faith and want to deprive others too
Is you have no need
to search for God
because you have found him in you.
The one I serve
Isn't arrogant
Or condescending in tone
So why not
Your merry self loving way go
And leave the God fearing alone
Or perhaps it's due
to the fact that you
Answer to no one up to
And including the ONE who tolerates you.
Each to their own.Sans agendas.
A Tribute to My Brother’s Ex
Your wedding was a story book event;
my brother thought he was a lucky man.
He’d sacrifice for you his every cent
to give you all according to your plan.
And you were destined for an easy life
that women always dream of when they’re young,
and yet you still went out creating strife,
and slithered through the night with snake like tongue.
But now I hear that lately tables turned,
and you got everything that you deserved
when, by your latest lover, you got burned,
and that your precious pride was not preserved.
And so to you I say with great profound;
what goes around will always come around.
August 20, 2018
My mother’s husband had a strong desire
To earn his pilot wings in his own right
Flying with his friend had stoked the fire
His dear friend’s death stalled his return to flight
As I looked on I wished for me it true
To fly a plane had been my lifelong dream
Imagine my joy when he asked me to
Pursue the pilot’s license as a team
His wife, my mother, did not like our plan
She cried and urged that we should turn it down
Afraid she’d end up losing both her men
Our unfulfilled dream was a huge letdown
To fly a plane, was a sad, stupid dream
Don’t speak of it again or I will scream!
You gave gifts of sour grapes, crushing spirit underfoot.
Transforming bitterness to fine sweet wine, I bade you dine with me,
Yet, I feast alone, at the banqueting table tonight.
It's not as if I've been avoiding you,
as that I've ceased to seek you out.
The results, however are much the same,
the frequency of our encounters has
f p
a e
l c
l i
e p
n i
t
o
u
s
l
y.
What with Wonder Boy crashing through again
less a little luster, a trifle tarnished, part
of the price of living each day
as if it were your last.
Me, I bide my time
finding rather than noble
passion, only bemused indifference.
don't worry bebe, you'll soon find another crutch.
I’m pinched, not sweet, and ferociously piqued!
A stomp of vines, my feet juiced red — and drunk.
Embossed my boss — his painted smile. He freaked.
Impertinence! I’d put up with his junk!
Worked extra hard to please this balding… (squeeze).
The constant drip...the bitter pills...my wrath.
No girl! No life! To serve this jerk...this sleaze!
I’ll pluck this fattened grape. His stink needs bath —
An hour long shower walloping...indeed!
I’m a great guy - no sense of humor mean.
This cream of the crop creep, he has no creed.
I’ll hire this donkey’s toot and shoot the scene.
But cheer this vat, I cure my awful state.
Conceive revenge, sour pittance for my hate.
8/13/2018
Mark Massey’s Sour Grapes Poetry Contest
8th place
*Embossed - hunted like an animal, to exhaustion