Best Subservient Poems
Woman in Chains
(What Man Would Abide It?)
Women throughout centuries – the softer sex.
I picture them subservient since what feels like time primordial!
What man would abide
being sold as if mere chattle and being called another’s property?
What man, with a love of learning or of writing,
would acquiesce and be denied
the education and the opportunities he so desired?
What man would dare take second place -
hiding in the background or covering his face
because society or church said things were meant to be that way?
What man would abide having cut off from his body
that part of him from which carnal pleasure is derived?
What man would let his feet be broken as a child,
bound up to resemble hooves to keep him in his place?
What man would abide being burned alive
if the dowry of his spouse were deemed unsuitable?
What man would abide (if not so inclined)
enduring the agonies of giving birth again and again
because his spouse preferred he stay at home?
What man would abide being raped or even killed
as punishment for even being raped?
What man would endure constant beatings for “his own good”
and feel good that his church or state approved this?
What man, if he were able to get pregnant,
would take on all the stress of unwed motherhood
when the one who got him pregnant bailed on him?
What man would abide the stigma and the soiled reputation?
What man would prostitute himself to feed his babies
because a job for one like him would not be given?
What man would abide living enslaved by an abuser,
afraid to run away or be found and killed by his abuser?
Atrocities like these through centuries have too long been endured.
No man would for so long a time endure them.
For reasons of pure biology, the role of the abused
was hoisted primarily on women.
Thank God for those strong women a mere century ago
who stood up, bravely fighting for women’s rights.
Thank God for lonely sister souls in faraway places
who even now stand fighting against inequities -
simply for the fact that they were born the softer sex.
Aug. 31, 2020 for John Hamilton's Woman in Chains Contest
Categories:
subservient, freedom,
Form:
Free verse
I was cursed with ink
intoxicating blank canvases
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken ebony rose
in satan's grasp,
kneeling on ungodly needs
in a gothic fortress
of woeful odes,
surrounded by black knights
and colorless blossoms,
searching for legitimate sestinas
and versatile villanelles
to ignite my quill to bleed
without semantic barriers.
Swaying like a pendulant,
on the edge between
light and darkness,
resembling midnight's
black ice queen,
I thirsted for a
universal prophecy.
A poet who would engrave
perennial verses upon my
discoloured healing heart.
To paint antique stones,
during sunless days
in a moonless kingdom.
A calligraphic catharsis,
adorning the sincere crown
of an imperial ivory king,
whose angelic voice
glitters like gems,
soothing insensitive beating drums
within my pondering pensive mind.
A majestic master of his quill,
reviving poetic intimacy,
fusing his musings
deep inside untouched chambers
with an unscratched itch,
of my undanced fandango.
F a t e has a way for
versifiers to assimilate.
From the first drop
of his couplet,
he had my tongue
rhyming to the rhythm
of his unspoken lyrics.
Now, I am a slave to
what I have become.
Handcuffed and blindfolded
by preserved petals
between perfumed pages
written from the tip of his
magical wand like fingers.
I am weaving crystal quartz
words in witching hours,
whilst he pours dulcet musings
incensed in white sage
over my rustic bronze silhouette,
as I am his willing mistress:
a submissive subservient pawn
to his silent slavery.
Throned in intricately carved
prose and poetry,
where monochrome strokes
of thin lines no longer perish.
There’s no need for a sorcerer
when his sentimental sonnets
are an addictive elixir.
I am deliriously comatose
and chained in piercingly
euphoric sagas of his saccharine soul.
Even Lilith seized the moment
to behold what belonged to her
In the name of infatuated love.
So this is me, stealing
scented seeds
sown along parallel paradigms
of his rightful Parnassian paradise,
d r o w n i n g in
metaphorical monograms,
leaving memoirs of a poetess~
seething glitters and gold
reborn from the depths of
a savior that saved
me from burnt chapters
of darkest oblivion.
Categories:
subservient, england, love,
Form:
Free verse
It definitely is not, but some men act as if it is.
"This is a man's world," sang James Brown,
but he ended every chorus repeating the refrain,
"But it wouldn't be nothing without a woman or a girl.
Read that line again....
Condescending supercilious men should never
become a SOUPercillious prig, a bug on a rug
that likes to bite like a flea. That should never happen,
especially when women have done nothing to provoke.
Don't talk down to women about being 'woke.'
We're not broke, nor are we mean girls or churls.
If that's a male gender problem, adjust yourself...
where the testosterone counts the most.
Don't boast to women as if you're superior to us.
We're not fragile and have the right to make a fuss
over being treated like subservient females.
Douse your fire and put down your swords.
A woman's ire is not something you should incense.
It makes no sense to spout and spew ugly remarks.
Stop growling like a mad dog that barks and barks.
'Fools rush in where wise men never go.'
Another song with lyrics that men should know.
Being a Charlie Big Banana doesn't make you a man
Pound on your chest like King Kong or a caveman
if you must, but supercilious you'll still be.
Categories:
subservient, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Salacious silhouettes
inked by a dying sun;
merge with the shadows in
a synergy of hope.
Two inseparable
half-souls, morph into one;
subservient to the
whims of compliant hearts.
As romantic dreamers
seal their love with a kiss;
as calm waters reflect
a blood-stained, scarlet sky.
Twinkling stars confetti
the ebony of space;
and as darkness descends,
Dusk snuffs out beams of light.
Time appears to stand still,
reality pauses;
and enchanted lovers
swim the depths of their souls.
Categories:
subservient, beauty, imagery, love, romantic,
Form:
Blank verse
With waves splashing upon bended knee,
majestic mountains rise from the sea.
And Angels peek from heaven above,
admiring the beauty of our love.
Frothy curls caress a sandy shore,
subservient to time, nothing more.
And a nightingale's melodic tune
grieves for the sun yet welcomes the moon.
As Venus awaits the rise of Mars,
the night is freckled with twinkling stars.
And paradise is where lovers lie,
under a teal and indigo sky.
Darkness inks the land in shades of black,
while the moon rises to push it back.
And the sands mold to body and soul,
consistent with love's passionate role.
Our promiscuity makes Mars blush,
inking this warrior's reddish flush.
And as Night's cool breeze tickles bare skin,
separate souls meld as one within.
Categories:
subservient, beautiful, emotions, fantasy, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
The New Year has come wafting on the wings of winter
The high latitudinal areas of the northern hemisphere
Would be in the grip of frequent snowstorms severe
Throwing life in desolate isolation and out of gear.
The cold wave sub-zero conditions of deprivation would persist
In many sections of population for in poverty they can’t subsist
Who wouldn’t see for long the sun of subservient survival
Through the dense fog of abject abandon and rueful refusal.
The frosty winter nights would fall with wrath
Making many frigid who would seek introvert warmth.
After the winter haze clears the weather would change
The spring would develop many high pressure regions
In the lives’ atmosphere of the aspirant people
Living in the spreading mist of uncertain future climate
With the hope of clear blue sky and sunny temperate days.
They have to brace for the increasing ambient temperature
In the thermal islands in the wake of global warming true or not.
The fanatic heat waves in the summer of discontent
Could blow dust of hatred in the raging desert storm
Might sweep like nimbus cloud across the tormented humanity.
The overcast monsoon sky may fall asunder
After unpredictable cloud burst one after another
On gloomy minds plunged in the trough of depression.
They would sink in the flood brought by heavy rains
In low pressure areas where mental stress would deepen despair.
Hurricanes and tropical storms would spin on trade winds
Wreck havoc bringing misery to many
For they would make landfall on the helpless people of destiny.
The cirrus clouds would slowly clear
The low atmospheric disturbances would subside
As the autumn would arrive sailing on the northern wind
With nip in the air and prospect of bright sunny days.
The occasional gusty winds of the fall
Would blow the broken brown leaves away
The way welted thoughts of the mind
Get swept by the squalls of fast moving times.
The old year would take our agony and dreams
Across the winter to the cold folds of another New Year
And we would wait for yet another spring another time
When our lives would bloom like flowers.
January 7, 2018.
Categories:
subservient, analogy, life, new year,
Form:
Free verse
It’s skin deep evident,
being black is an inherent crime
It doesn’t matter whether we
peacefully
stand our ground,
or be siren subservient —
Hands in the air,
knees bent
We get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter
In the back of our mind,
fear is a pride looter
Epidermal evidence suggests,
probable cause is
five fingers of uniform blue grave danger
A click gavel falls trigger quick,
siren verdict be: 1st degree fatal anger
It’s just another casket open-and-shut case,
the latest obituary picture
bearing eyewitness of Breonna Taylor’s face
Like chalk on a blackboard,
we get erased ...
so rap sheet easily
Four-by-for centuries,
our coffin pleas
have been iron fetter ignored
The only asphalt sound
silently heard
are the yellow tape trace words:
“I can’t breathe,”
with our George Floyd face
in the paved dirt
Epidermal evidence historically reveal:
We always got shot seven times,
by a six-shooter
Skin color hatred smoking barrel explode
on a trigger reload
Being black was our genetic crime
Wanting the good life
on the whiter side
of the picket fence
Made former slave cotton-picking sense
Our emancipated thoughts
were escaped equality sought
But votes auction bought,
forced us to tragically be
paddy wagon pellet caught
And when suffrage hope died,
it was our fault —
Runaway tears shed for naught!
Morgue blame sent:
Usual suspect motives be
dreams non-violent
Desiring to be integrated legally
into American society
was our heinous offense
No need for more epidermal evidence
It’s just another cell open-and-shut case,
the latest unarmed picture
bearing eyewitness of Jacob Blake’s face
We repeatedly
get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter
Seems the lawlessness of the land says:
The badge can be
judge, jury
and executioner
Ain’t it blatant epidermal evident,
being black is an egregious, breathable offense
Of which there is no self-defense
We get shot seven times,
by a six-shooter
Perpetrator exit wombs inflicted on
menace to society ghetto we
Aborted justice is our
perforated epidermal eulogy
Being black is a natural-born crime,
evidentiary,
an umbilical sin
It’ll get you pandemic shot seven times,
by a sick, sick six-shooter
Categories:
subservient, grief, perspective, truth, violence,
Form:
Elegy
"Our Meridian"
We are all
barefoot
ultra green
We are
strange
familiars
We are
constant
circumferencing
Each second
Each minute
Each hour
Every day
Each Year
Our Meridian
We are all
ignorant,
We are all
important
subservient
docile
and sentient
in our truth
We
are absent
Yet
primed
the internal
eternity of Us
whispering
in our minds
"IT"
comes soon,
Our Time
Our Centre
the meeting place
the point,
Our Meridian.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Enchanted Forest Music (528Hz)
https://youtu.be/09r8XdHRWe8
“I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled at them,
snatching up a lunascope and
throwing it into the fireplace.
"I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH,
I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END,
I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!"
"You do care," said Dumbledore.
He had not flinched or made a single move
to stop Harry demolishing his office.
His expression was calm, almost detached.
"You care so much you feel
as though you will bleed to death
with the pain of it.”
J.K. Rowling, Order of the Phoenix
“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”
William Shakespeare
Categories:
subservient, truth,
Form:
Free verse
A dreadful memory upon life’s sea
Returns to the days when life was carefree.
A spiritual youth faced the world alone.
Distracted by life and its sinful groan.
I thought that my Savior was by my side.
Whispers from Satan deceived my abide.
There is no God; it is a ruler’s toy.
To make men subservient was the ploy.
Scientists discovered we came from apes.
Questioning God, I ate bananas, grapes.
The devil deceived me with many lies.
Despite my souls whisper and needed cries.
I turned away from God for a short time.
When wisdom returned, life became sublime.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
October 26, 2010
Categories:
subservient, faith, nostalgia, religionlife, life,
Form:
Sonnet
Loose green tendrils hanging low
kiss the soft green earth, the bough
kneels with the wind as if in prayer,
a penitent so humble, so subservient.
A pliant bow that's unreleased,
and like to spring to heaven with a swish,
a stately, monumental king
of meadow and a murmuring stream,
in haze concealed, a misty dream,
a graceful monolith 'twould seem,
cloaked in the blue-grey hush.
Categories:
subservient, nature,
Form:
Verse
Have you seen the light of Him that shines brighter then the
Aludra star of heaven's lair, and have you seen the rays that
Veer towards you when you pray, my brother have you
Ever known more peace then when you bow your head in prayer
Yoked to your heart He is your everlasting soulmate and your friend
On the wings of faith you can soar towards Him night and day
Unearth your fears and find the comfort that you need
Sacred Father, Abba, Patriarch and Archer of all that is good in you
Every action of yours is guided by His Holy subservient angels
Experience Him in your journey of love and know that you are
Noteworthy of His protection. Sister of life on earth plant a seed
The creator will water it and make it grow like a rose in the dessert
Hide it from the enemy let it prosper in His vineyard. You the
Elect who is never left in the dark, is a child of the Beloved,
Love with all your heart as he has loved you, built an alter and
Invite Him to your table dear friend, He is the candle that burns bright
Goodness and peace will follow you if you make
Him your confessor and your constant companion .
Trust in Him who created you to His image, know you are loved.
Categories:
subservient, appreciation, father,
Form:
Acrostic
Beneath the forelocks shady shroud
and chestnut lashes low,
A gaze to halt the human heart
This creature can bestow.
Apple breathed indifference and
Wistful, fearful grace
Can catapult the senses beyond
This earthly place.
Mankind made him subservient
And service he knows well,
Historically, such willingness has
Grazed the gates of hell.
Natures' magnum opus,
Of evolutions course.
Majestic in his countenance,
Noble, hypnotic Horse.
Categories:
subservient, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
When the opaque nights were starless,
and the depressing days desolately cloudy,
the journey through the tortuous valley of life
wasn’t easy as it was meant to be.
When the wilted flowers turned pallid,
and the defoliated trees tarnished tawny,
I lost the tantalizing trail of the garden path,
as in the unshed tears of toil hapless hopes sank.
The jagged pathway of listless life I traveled,
was sorely winding and the time finite.
At the end of the tormenting tunnel
I didn’t see the glitter of the guiding light.
When in stormy nights I was in the wasteland wilderness,
the surreptitious destiny designed for me,
the shards of my splintered sky fell asunder,
I forlornly envisaged strewn all around me.
I didn’t question the supreme designer’s motive,
and His ways of mundane manifestation,
but prayed for the sparkle of the sapphire nights,
and for the shower of the sunny days’ shine.
Without complaint I endured complacently
the transient time’s turbulence as His gracious gift,
waited for the spring to bloom the divine flowers,
and grow the emerald trees to enliven the blessed me.
When under the ruins of the fallen sky
my broken dreams were in the debris of despair,
I traveled within crossing the dark corridor,
and in the soul’s precinct I discovered the heavenly light.
In those precious moments I totally surrendered,
and remained subservient to His omnipresence.
I got the inner strength to hold up the falling sky,
and those enlightened instants kept me going.
Categories:
subservient, analogy, god, life,
Form:
Free verse
There's only one emotion that I feel is completely instinctual
spinoff peripheral feelings are thus subservient to that one
and born complex sensual beings, Man pursues its purity
allowing wishes and fantasies to approach fulfillment
fueled by trust, you experience how happiness feels
imbuing courage, it comforts a whimpering child
no other feeling could possibly take its place
it is the first commandment given by God
and as close to heaven as mortals dare
for futures rely on its foundations
to support impossible dreams
quenching an emotional
thirst, it refreshes you
as two morphs into
one bonded by
a feeling
we call
love
(Melting Snowball)
Feb. 21, 2019
Categories:
subservient, 10th grade, beautiful, emotions,
Form:
Verse
They say no one is perfect, but you were.
In the beginning, it was you and I.
Now I see, that it’s us, you, them and everything else in between.
Two islands across the sea have a stronger connection than you and me.
I’m everything you never wanted or thought to be.
I’m not thin or pretty.
I’m not subservient or submissive.
I’m not the right shade or person.
I’m loud.
I’m a bit heavy.
I’m bossy.
I’m demanding of a love, I once saw a glimpse of, in a man whose shadow I’d only seen.
You’re a good person.
You just can’t value me.
You just can’t love me the right way.
You just can’t because although you were perfect for me, I’m not even a dot to you and even if I was, I wouldn’t even sparkle.
I guess it’s true what they say…
No one is perfect.
But you were.
Categories:
subservient, beauty, black love, break
Form:
Narrative