Best Stoning Poems
The Prophet
I read the words of a poet
From the days of tomorrow
His verse flowed backwards in time
And rhyme
I, a fair maiden, doomed to a fate
Of obligations unseen
If only the book on my lap
Was not ahead of my youthful station on this earth
Verses seeping with promise
I long for the voice of this master of the pen
I day dream, and lose my place in this world of pain
To hear his softness in the blowing wind
Alas it must be the times he lives
No man can carry such passion
Inside a book within a book of dreams
Yet, here I am, to ponder
The romance of a tomorrow I shall never see
I am doomed to village laws and customs
A stoning that is so unjust
For I unveiled my eyes to the world before me
Staring into the depths of mans possessive hatred
I ran in fear, I ran towards the forest of hope
As they drag me by my feet
The book clutched close to my breast
Bloodied and in the moonlight, I open it
To find out, even in the future of majestic noble poets
There lies evil still
Stealing the breath of innocents and infants
I hope one day
I shall meet the author of these words
I may slap him across face for my silly fantasies
So long I dreamed the world would change as does the seasons
For better days filled with peace and kindness
I hope one day
I shall meet the author of these words
I may plant a sweet kiss upon his soft lips
Singing of songs he has long forgotten
I slowly wrap the rope around my neck
They will not stone me
They shall not claim any victory over me
The poets words, hidden deep between my legs
Shall melt within my soul
For better days filled with love and kindness
I shall kiss him sweetly in my death
Categories:
stoning, allah, beauty, eve, gothic,
Form:
Free verse
What was the ethics of homefires
when homeostasis had gone awry ?
There were no concrete truths.
I will not wear the lies instead
like fly ash on my bloodied shirt.
The old habits die hard;
the beds of flesh and bones, carry the
strange innocent meanings of heavy
eyelids which could not beat the silk
of green eyes of a sun.
A miracle was needed to undo the
thighs of mermaid who went to sleep on the
rocks of jealousy. The sky-blue flames
rise again from the navel of infidel love
who had inherited the golden moon.
Satish Verma
Categories:
stoning, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form:
Written: February 15, 2024
______________________________________
I ultimately rule over these stunning valleys,
Elm trees with mossy brows line the alleys.
Where distant peaks arise, calm and azure,
Akin to the strong tripods used for rapture.
Who can't view river stones as viable paths?
A scad of scramblers on spurs stoning laths.
To slay fair faces, who bartered leaden blasts,
And weapons because of their leopard casts.
Who inflicted lasting wounds upon the land,
Those who pursued the avian crowns stand.
Fetched to flatten fascinating flesh but failed,
Who still flies above "fallen Tomahawk," veiled?
From my awakened gaze, I view a world,
Across eyes that bear a black shade furled.
A confined space, restricted and stretched out,
Then I cast a velvety gaze over a dumb doubt.
In a shadowed visage, this is how I mumble,
These walls, built by oppression, must crumble.
I must quit as I gaze upon my unique form,
Through opened eyes, no longer blind corm.
And behold, my unique hands create,
The space exists within my mind spate.
Nonviolent activists avoid causing friction,
Path for discovery, not building any tension.
Yield your tension a flight and let it depart,
God will never strain you over skills to impart.
Stress is only a reaction, probe not to worry,
Oddness from bodies and beliefs is blurry.
Not all stress stems from having a lot to do,
It originates from a lack of follow-through.
The potential increases with increasing strain,
Growth comes with a sense of life's innate pain.
I'm feeling hollow, not due to any sorrow,
Yet, in a sense of relief, each knot fades hollow.
The most crucial factor in ensuring lifespan,
Is staying clear of tension, worry, and strain.
Life is not a rising conflict or a stressful scene,
Life ought not to be painful; it may be serene.
It's habits that induce tension and relaxation,
Cutting rituals and building useful tension.
Categories:
stoning, analogy, anger, mystery, time,
Form:
Rhyme
In seeming innocence you lie in the warm ochre
in the center of a dust-kicked street,
a remnant of larger issues crushed to just the right size
by killing blows.
Before the mob merged before catcalls
raised the hairs on the back of your neck,
you had been of a favorite pet a cherished wife.
A wife and mother now lies dead brought down by
the bloodlust
of the men around her.
Today, the stones are coated rust-red with her blood
as another women of Iraq is laid low by the men who own them
husbands sons and fathers.
*Stoning is called Rajm in Islamic literature, and a practice found in United Arab Emirates, Iran, Iraq, Qatar, Mauritania, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Sudan, Yemen, Northern Nigeria, Aceh in Indonesia, Brunei, and Pakistan. Stoning is part & parcel of patriarchal societies.
Categories:
stoning, anger, , literature,
Form:
Free verse
No greater injustice than this:
To condemn people to death, just for tender acts of love,
While
Rewarding others, for committing barbarous acts in war! *
© Demetrios Trifiatis
06 April 2019
* Brunei is introducing new laws that make sex between men an offense punishable by stoning to death. Other countries that have similar laws are : Iran, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Sudan Mauritania and parts of Nigeria and Somalia according to BBC. There are currently 70 counties that criminalize same sex relations says ILGA!
Categories:
stoning, death, life, love,
Form:
Epigram
Silent voices
Acid in eyes
Silence
Raped by suitor
Silence
Burned with kerosene
Silence
No books for women
Silence
Beating wives
Silence
No education for women
Silence
Woman must wear masks
Silence
Women must obey
Silence
Women used and abused
Silence
Honor Killings
Silence
Stoning women for a mans crime?
Silence
Murder for two hearts loving
Silence
A child screams as church bells ring
Silence
Barrel bombs fall like laughing monkeys
On children both small and tall
Silence
Israel treating the wounded of Arab crimes
Silence
I ask you?
Are you a silent one?
Categories:
stoning, angst, caregiving, death, holocaust,
Form:
Free verse
Jumping the jam,
I am peter pan,
doing a man,
don't know his name at this dam.
Down-stream is a clam,
up is a nap-
I creak when I walk,
never stop for talk,
just smoke a lot,
and hope for a magical robot,
to intercept the hotness right outta the golf.
Reading a lot,
speeding at the shop,
rotating at the main evacuation,
suffocating during masterb#***$!
Stoning without stoners to bank it,
waiting for sin to just spank it!
I read the riddles,
and rape the shingles-
right off red roofs,
of old men sitting in bagels.
I retort the regime,
I run from the scene,
I do all the same drugs,
I hate all the same thugs.
Categories:
stoning, angst, depression, drug, grief,
Form:
Limerick
my agent grew nervous
when he discovered
like the rising sun
on a sea of shark fins
that one must gauge and become the gauge
what is it that heralds an improved model
claiming to have superior knowledge
my hospital masturbates immobilized patients
the cure rate is astounding
it’s all in how we conceive ourselves
the oil and tincture panaceas
were giving me intestinal upheaval
but my inner cephalopod still had
a couple of pots of ink in him
and swore by his mother's nipples
when info comes a-knocking
best let it find a seat unaided by grief
everyone rigs the game
we are all defiled by propaganda
here let me wipe you off
we all want to be authentic
so gimme the straight story for once
the sigh of the wind for once
must have been the stoning squad's day off
tarred and feathered instead
the world may not owe us a living
but it does owe us an explanation
I think it all has to do with
branching cascades and nested infinities
is it rain on the roof or radio static
I'm pretty sure it's a comedy show
there's a lady in the front row
bearing her breasts at me
I am quickly hypnotized
turns out she’s KGB
I hope I'm the lucky stud
that gets to climb her stairway
in an experimental courtship ritual
we rubbed pudenda for an hour
before I heard her secret name
it's still secret
her guillotine blade warm and wet
cut through me like a 3 dollar car wash
through fresh dung
OK why 3
for you double meaning compulsives
I'll tell you
but you must obey my commands
they are buried throughout this message
because 3 is like the fingernail relics of saints
and he'd rather be thundering back at Zeus
which got him everything he wanted
not so much money clothes cars women
since he didn't set out to establish
an empire of invisible influence
but he was a free man
free to disintegrate periodically
my advice is to keep
something for yourself no matter what
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
stoning, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
“You stiff-necked people, with uncircumcised hearts and ears! You are just like your fathers: You always resist the Holy Spirit! Was there ever a prophet your fathers did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him— you who have received the law that was put into effect through angels but have not obeyed it.”
Acts 7:51-53
All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.
Acts 6:15
THE STONING OF STEPHEN
Before Stephen fell asleep, he gave a sermon.
It culminated into a bold accusation t’wards the leaders.
The Sanhedrin, with the high priest, would determine
The fate of this angel-face. They were breeders
Of contempt, accusing God’s man of blasphemy.
They were teeth-gnashers, stuffing their ears with glue,
indignant, jealous, furious. They would rob Stephen’s vitality.
This follower of Jesus is never alone, heaven’s in view:
“Look,” he said, “I see heaven open
and the Son of Man standing
at the right hand of God.”*
Clasping their ears, they rushed at him,
Yelling in full view of the glory of God, not
Seeing nor hearing, choosing their dim
View of life. It was evil they sought.
They snatched him, dragged him out of the city.
Were those chosen stones unearthed from hell?
Upon a saint of God, they took no pity.
They were underneath Satan’s spell.
This favored of God, they could not ignore.
A Sanhedrin bull in full vent with dust and smoke.
Truth will shake powerful men to the core.
Arms and legs like chariot spokes,
The high-horse pretenders lambast
the great orator with great force.
Stephen would soon meet the holy cast
Of forefathers…most importantly life’s source.
Another man is enthralled, also blind
To the goads he’s kicking at. He’s in his heyday,
a young man giving approval to death, the kind
of man Stephen prayed for in this way:
“Lord, do not hold this sin against them.”*
8/8/2021
*Acts (from the Bible)
Categories:
stoning, christian, murder,
Form:
Quatrain
Just try in the imagining of this
And the point of it all try not to miss
His Mother told Him that they were all out of wine
Then Mary told the wait staff to follow Him that all will be fine
Zacchaeus was a tax collector
And amongst the people he was quite a specter
Knowing His Name and that he was a sinner
Jesus called him down and then ate at his house for dinner
In seeking out a Samarian woman at the well
To her lost soul of His Glory He would tell
She ran in the gathering and telling of her whole entire town
As in His Kingdom this simple harlot will wear a crown
In a remote place 15,000 stood at Our Lord's feet
But only one of the many had anything to eat
Jesus took those two fish and five loaves of bread
Twelve extra baskets were still left after all were fed
This woman was caught in the act of adultery
Her stoning is what all had really wanted to see
Jesus simply bent down and began drawing on the ground
And soon not even one of her accusers could even be found
The point in all of this being
Many people will read yet so few of them will be seeing
Look at the Words written in black on white
And allow the Holy Spirit to give you sight
Dedicated to my Aunt Patsy
Categories:
stoning, imagery, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
Here-
this day's last light clouds gray
to run-round and un-green in star-chaining
in pebble hush
and fish stoning
in leaf murmur
and trembling wing tuck
in cool frightful burrows
and tears that fall
in the unsuspecting night
___________________
©©2000
Categories:
stoning, assonance, depression, lonely, lost
Form:
Free verse
But the tenants seized the servants and one of them they beat, another they killed, and third they stoned. Matthew 21:35
How violently the tenants acted
Besides beating
Stoning and killing his servants
They also killed the owner’s son
This parable prefigures the brutal death of Jesus
But long before being killed by a barbaric crucifixion
Jesus felt the effects of human violence and harsh rejection
He received a hostile threats
Sarcastic barbs
and verbal taunts from those who supposed Him
He experienced the unnerving outcome of people whose fear turned on Him
Chased Him out of town
And yet
Jesus did not respond with similar violence
He walk His talk
Not only preaching non violence
but living it
When Peter sliced off a man’s ear in order to protect him
Jesus insisted the disciple put his sword away
Jesus then healed the man’s ear
I am reminded that too
must avoid revenge
If follow Jesus
I will ease desiring harm to come to those who insist on being an enemy
Categories:
stoning, christian, fate, jesus, people,
Form:
Free verse
5/9/22
Let me change my toning
Skills mastered and others still honing
I am not droning
People to this day passed away from a stoning
Continually condoning
With no cease to cloning
It's become often and corroding
Occasionally exploding
All the while a struggle to break through the coding
Something worth noting
It's harmful not beneficial, yet constant doting
Still too much gloating
Evil agendas many have been secretly promoting
Originally got to the spot by boating
Then thrown overboard now saturated and soaking
The body would be floating
Due to bloating
But it was weighed down from others hoping
It'd never see the light of day, or an investigation probing
More or less
Cause and effect
Correct, I'm still pot smoking
Go ahead and ask me how my battle with alcohol is going
I start dozing
From overdosing
Little if any good that did like loafing
And postponing
As well as screens always loading
It's a joke, no I'm not joking
Still adding fuel to the fire with prodding and poking
Eventually leading to a struggle involved with choking
For one party the outcome was croaking
A process of life and death, living or decomposing
All this goading
And foreboding
Opportunity remains yet the door is closing
Either after it or just ogling
It's pathetic or engrossing
Having to do with an article of clothing
Or a sharp point dipped in a toxic coating
Meanwhile maniacal egos they're stroking
No I'm not joking
Like all the boasting
Is there such a thing as safety when danger is always approaching?
Treated like garbage it's gross to me
In the end it always benefits them mostly
Just the truth, not looking at it morosely
Homie
Pay attention closely
Instead of overlooking it all like it's bologna
Regardless of it being clear, rainy or snowing
The wind calm or harshly blowing
You're out of the loop or knowing
Impacting how waters are flowing
Endlessly on it's growing
Radioactive and glowing
Causing harm with no chance of slowing
This is what evidence has been showing
Whether or not it is the time of gloaming
To this day still roaming
It's worldwide not just in Wyoming
Like a rabid beast at the mouth foaming
Toward their desires always combing
With missiles that are homing
Categories:
stoning, dark, death, deep, life,
Form:
Rhyme
rocky wind blows
stoning my heart
boulders crush
our love
Categories:
stoning, love,
Form:
Haiku
A long spine of asphalt, sizzling black
The macka back cart rumbling
On the morning nerve, herring sprat
Is high life some days in this place
Across the street the bakery
Up the street the parrot teaching me to curse
The hollow determination in any face
For we were all connected by a common shame
The sense that here was the bottom
And our pain was those on top of us
And zinc fences surrounding us
In the prison of our dream.
I was the child at the back of the crowd
After the evening prayers
And the rush for freedom
From the classroom corals that punished our desire
To find our own direction amidst the squall
Of trickery and gun fire ...
I was the child like a raggamuffin on the street
The distractor so my friends could cheat
Mr Bola of his dumplings
My pocket tell the truth of grease in them
I was the child stoning the mango trees
And then close to my gate ... drop back, boy
Behold, out of me a muted lamb appear
I remember, Mrs Donaldson, Byfield
And the tall wall, high as the East Indian tree
I remember Scott, Penley
The girl who almost stole my virginity
And long not now my inocense to keep
What joy for it I could have reaped
But I had neither asphalt nor concrete
Not backbone
Not knowledge of self, no longing for a me
While England's song I hummed those days
And mother's voice was my leash.
I could break on law
Without my brother's raw anger, the basket of his pride
The tamarind switch, my burning skin
The street at noonday filled with din
Firm as a cross
And I wandering it bewitched and lost.
Categories:
stoning, nostalgia, places, schoolchild, longing,
Form:
Free verse