Best Vexatious Poems
It's 3 am,
her pillow soaked in regret.
Loss has left her spirit lonesome,
darkness a definition of insanity.
In the silence of the night,
vexatious voices vibrate inside
her somber state of mind.
Restless, she sits at her proverbial piano,
as a plethora of pain bleeds through
her fingers onto ebony and ivory keys.
Rain drops drip from her eyes,
unable to contain the sorrows in her heart.
In perfect harmony with her faithful piano,
her heartache performs the perfect poetic personification,
echoing a serenade of melancholic melodies.
Her whole body is numb, but the
music mesmerises her mind, as memories
of her prophetic protagonist persist.
Her souls sighs, as she sings;
"If only you could see the pain,
maybe then you would explain,
what do you think you will gain,
from my mind going insane?
It seems like you don't care,
tell me how is that fair?
You'll say it's you and not me,
because you're too blind to see,
only your love can set me free,
but you say it's not meant to be.
It seems like you don't care,
tell me how is that fair?
Oh my love, is this goodbye?
Your silence makes my heart cry.
Within the deepness of each sigh,
I will always question why."
27 March 2018
Simple Musing
Silent One
Categories:
vexatious, angst, lost love, love
Form:
Alliteration
When I was about sixteen I bought my first car a '37 Ford.
I thought I was hot stuff as about the town I roared!
It had straight pipes and a radio from which the music blared,
But for some reason my feckless youth the cops never shared!
Nowadays, kids with their noisy heaps drive me up the wall!
Their vexatious boom boxes and roaring pipes I can't tolerate at all!
They pull up beside me, flex their middle finger and with a silly grin,
Roar away leaving me in a cloud of dust much to my chagrin!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Entry for Sara Hendrick's "Two Lenses" Contest
Categories:
vexatious, car, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Dawn seeps soundlessly in to scatter the darkness.
Around is silence and quiet and calm.
From my lofty balcony, I can admire the serenity
Of the vast immensity of the ocean, all smell of balm.
Let tranquillity invade my lonely soul, O Lord.
The arduous day will soon be full of all its pains.
And I am old, too old to face the vexatious turmoil
That surrounds me, for I am all aches and sprains.
How can I face the rough and tumble of this misery?
I need wisdom to discern all that is foolish and vain,
I need peace to avoid worries and other upsets.
I need love to forgive others’ injuries and bane.
Life is short and I’m much too old to bear pains.
Death will be a relief from all that troubles me.
However life is precious and I will live it through,
Only with your genial grace that comes from Thee.
Categories:
vexatious, age, old,
Form:
Rhyme
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” Rumi
Life can be an incomplete glossary,
speech a haunting ghost,
in search of a perspicuous poem -
to express unspoken thoughts.
I remember when she said,
"Cue me poetry"
So, I became her perpetual poet,
engraving sweet soulful words
upon her bitter spiritless lips.
Fate had turned her into the Queen of Darkness,
but my heart glows in the dark.
Together we illuminated like a trillion twinkling stars,
outshining the enigmatic effervescent moon.
Her essence infused a refreshing presence,
like morning sunshine after a night of rain.
Slowly she became a pilgrim of my poetry,
and I, a sojourner lost within her soul.
As I wandered through her secret chapters,
my word weaving revealed her book of scars,
each drop of ink resembling her tepid tears.
Each vexatious verse purified through
a catalyst of catharsis, healed her wounds.
We are like quill and scribe,
vowels complimenting consonants,
completing an impeccable vocabulary -
without her there is no muse.
Categories:
vexatious, love, muse, romance,
Form:
Romanticism
Cling to the last fragments of your credence
Forgetting all mistakes and faults
Forgiving the critics of their impotence
and slandering those the world exalts
They can lock an animal in a cage
Depriving it of its God-given right
However can never take away its rage
So they instead put it in a vexatious plight
Despite this all and control of a tyrant
Driven by a claim of purity
A claim of which he needs to recant
I would have pity for one with such calamity
But for those who hope wrongdoing on another
And receive from it some sick sense of pleasure
I wish for you a long life and pain in which you smother
For they are great and to them you are of no measure
As comforting the song of an angel calming the rage of the caged animal and setting it free
That same angel's song heals the enraged caged animal's wounds inside of me.
Categories:
vexatious, hope, sad,
Form:
Sonnet
Fixing our own mistakes can be quite a vexatious trial
Laughing at our errors often brings us a humorous smile
Asking others for assistance is not a sign of weakness
What it shows is a humble nature known as meekness
Because of our human imperfection we get things wrong
That doesn't mean our resolve and patience is not strong
Seek to find the solutions you may have known all along
It just takes some trial and error to go that extra furlong
Procrastination is not the answer, for it will only prolong
finding explanations for problems that gather in a throng
Get to it! It's as simple as stabbing meat on a fork prong
You will be elated with your life and singing a new song
Don't digress. Be determined to dissuade dense denial
Upon a first reflection, no human achieves perfection
Even following direction, we still need some correction
Fixing our own mistakes can be quite a vexatious trial
Word Pairing: Trial and Error
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
February 2, 2016
4X4 Master Rhyme Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Categories:
vexatious, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
A vexatious question posed by kids of every generation,
One that sets parents to gnashing their teeth with irritation,
And tends to spread a pall over a well-planned vacation,
Is, "Are we there yet?" along the way to their destination!
From the rear seat, there's a paucity of civil conversation.
Mom's firm hand has resolved many a truculent confrontation!
Dad's patience has reached the point of violent detonation!
"Are we there yet?" the kids whine, to their parent's consternation!
The stalwart Pilgrims sailed the roiling seas with trepidation,
Risking their very lives to escape the bonds of privation.
The age-old query from kids must've driven them to exacerbation!
"Are we there yet?" pestered the kids to their parents aggravation!
It had to be a daunting venture to join the westward migration,
As Pa faced the rugged Rockies, the vastness of God's Creation!
Roaring rivers and Indians - he surely had that sinking sensation!
Did he suffer kids' "Are we there yet?" for the trek's duration?
Does this annoying phrase develop during gestation?
Is it primordial? Has it been around since Creation?
Has it something to do with genetics or even reincarnation?
Parents merit a special place in heaven for enduring such recitation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
vexatious, funnyparents, parents,
Form:
Rhyme
The kind heart ***** cook saved me, “Pitch all your sweet meats over-board and turn upon the hearty salt beef and ship bread . . .you’ll be as
hearty as any of ‘em afore you are up to the horn.”
They called the cook “Doctor”, and you should want to be in his favor,
Should you need to dry your stockings, lite your pipe or get a little extra scouse on your tin. The doctor taught me superstitions of the sea. Of stories and dreams and the unusual behavior of men before death. Plaguy and vexatious things and event that were bothersome to him. He had special affection for “Old Bess” the ships pig.He felt that Finnish sailors were wizards with power of wind and storm. There was no reasoning with him for he had experience on his side and was not to be moved. He called on elders to back his story, and they did regaling their own wizardly tales of Finnish ghost ships and the like.
“Dar,” said the cook, “what you tink o’ dat?”
He was a free man this simple-hearted old African.
Categories:
vexatious, adventure, africa, black african
Form:
Free verse
The crone can hear the children's laughter, cold as ice
And they exclaim out "witch", not thinking she can hear
Their parents then admonish, "Try to be quite nice."
Upon her thin, emaciated form they leer
Of love forbidden she has paid the awful price
Malicious magic powers all the children fear
She only wears black, mourning each and ev'ry day
Her world is full of dismal, somber shades of grey
She loved a wealthy cultured handsome gentleman
But she had not the clothes nor proper pedigree
And never would be issued any wedding bann
For poverty did not amuse his family
When finding herself great with child of his, she ran
She felt displaced, just like a dead uprooted tree
In bleak back alley child unwanted disappeared
No chance immoral tainted peccant child be reared
Although she lost her core, her heart, her soul, her mind,
She wandered dazed and crazy back to town she knew
Her fam'ly said, "We never have produced your kind."
There was no place to go and nothing left to do
But after mournful agony she came to find
Satanic powers very evil she would rue
She met the incubi in wooded forest glen
Although she knew it was an awful, grievous sin
Her soul and body raped by evil forces bold
Instilled in her the seeds of their foul awful pow'r
That grew more potent as she grew extremely old
Demolished, shattered self continued still to sour
Her sterile body, now quite barren, grew ice cold
A vile vexatious tongue lashed out at all each hour
Thus she became a bitter venomous old hag
While dressed in filthy clothes; on head, a dirty rag
She met a fine genteel young man, so good and kind
A person reaching out to all in charity
Attempted making better lives where he could find
He wanted human folk achieving parity
However, he had never met an evil mind
The succubus seduced his soul with clarity
She crippled psyche; took his cash, his bonds and stocks
Her languid lips convinced him caged; no keys for locks
Then when the moon was full one night, she murdered him
Around his vile demise all sorts of tales arose
She had dismembered rigid corpse each limb by limb
Disposed so very well of ugly bloody clothes
The whole ordeal had been a gratifying whim
Upon his naked body set a blood red rose
His corpse was never found; base tales do not abate
Today she suffers vile result of cruel fate
Categories:
vexatious, death, loss, lost love,
Form:
Ottava rima
Yesterday, my heart felt a little tapping
Coming from the inside, a friendly rapping
It grew strong then weak, refreshed then weary
Sometimes ordinary, sometimes eerie
So I opened the door and looked inside
Looked past the smiles I've held and the tears I've cried
Right above where passions subside
I found a poem, cowering, yet untried
I tenderly tried to draw it out
Coax turned to order turned to shout
It simply sat there, unwilling to confide
Right above where passions subside
"Fine!" I yelled to it "Stay there"
I spared it one last snarl and a glare
And marched out with quite some flare
Marched out of the poem's lair
Locked my heart up behind me
Completely unable to foresee
The continued tapping of that rhyme
A rap at every clock and chime
So I decided to ignore it, unable to perceive
Exactly how unwilling it was to leave
Today, I woke up with a pain in my chest
Felt it as I brushed my teeth, as I got dressed
To be honest, I was quite impressed
This poem didn't seem to ever rest
But I wanted to discharge this vexatious guest
To be free of this detestable pest
It wouldn't leave upon request
It wouldn't move despite my protest
Even when I threw at it all the mental force I possessed
So to myself I confessed
It was causing me serious unrest
Leaving my brain distressed
My spirit depressed
Eventually, my failure expressed
I asked my heart a plan to suggest
After all, it was where the visitor resided
I asked and waited to be guided
For the heart to be decided
For the information to be provided
Realization hit my heart in the head
It called me to it, tugged at me with a thread
I felt it and to my heart I sped
I splayed before it and pled
"Save me – what do I do - help me"
To rid me of my companion it did guarantee
Pulled me close and whispered quietly
Told me the plan privately
I reacted violently
Refused mightily
But agreed finally
So I sit here now like some defender
Ready at last to face the offender
The battle commences, I let my heart grow tender
The verse rears up, here comes my contender
I marvel at its splendor
And Finally... I surrender
Categories:
vexatious, imagination, on writing and
Form:
Rhyme
I reckon I've seen about everything in my nigh four-score years.
Obnoxious teens, obnoxious elders and unpleasant Wall-Mart cashiers,
And those baggy pants with the crotch nearly reaching to the knees,
But folks with a cell phone in their ear compare to none of these!
Some people sport spiked hair dyed orange, red or green.
Others with rings piercing their lips - a weird sight to be seen!
Gorgeous ladies flaunt tacky tattoos that seem mighty *****.
Plus all of that, they have a cell phone glued to the ear!
Vexatious ringtones on some cellular phones cause me to cringe,
'Specially if in a fine bistro or church my serenity they impinge!
The "William Tell Overture" in a concert is mighty fine to hear,
But please spare me that tinny tune from the cell phone in your ear!
Some use their cell phones while driving - to all others oblivious,
Never minding that such inattention could be very injurious!
Seems to me 'twould be tricky trying to concentrate and steer,
With that consarned cellular phone sticking in the ear!
Cell phones are an improvement in communications, I suppose,
With their music, cameras, computers and a dial that glows.
But, alas, for future generations I often wonder and fear:
Will babes be born with a cell phone protruding from the ear?
Entry for Simon Rogerson's "Let's Explore Digital Technology" Contest
(13 Feb 22)
Categories:
vexatious, me,
Form:
Rhyme
There's a legion of doc-ologists to keep us on our feet.
A glance in the telephone book reveals a list complete!
Seems there's an "ologist" to care for us from head to wiggly toes,
Prodding, poking and dosing to ease our miserable woes!
Praise the Lord for geront-ologists who care for folks my age,
To ease our minds, hold our hands ushering us t'ward dotage!
Then there are the psych-ologists who meddle in our head.
The practice of the proct-ologists is better left unsaid!
The dermat-ologists who cleansed our faces of acne as a teen,
Now hassle us about slathering ourselves with sunscreen!
I'll never understand how anesthesi-ologists operate off hand,
But I know their potions ease the pain as we relax in la-la-land!
Gynec-ologists specialize in treating ladies' singular ills,
Including that vexatious time marked by hot flashes and icy chills!
Cardi-ologists are vital for keeping us alive and kicking,
Checking aortas and such to ensure our hearts keep ticking!
I'll coin the term "the-ologists" who deal with our languid souls,
Directing our thoughts upward beyond mere earthly goals!
Radi-ologists, ur-ologists, "other-ologists", I could go on ad infinitum.
Lastly, there are cosmet-ologists to pretty us up when we succumb!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
vexatious, funnycare, care,
Form:
Rhyme
PYRRHIC EVOLUTION
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
There once was a time in this great land
When folks said “ yes sir” and “yes maam”
Those days are ancient, eroded away
Where are we headed, I’m afraid to say
A time when the elderly were respected
A time when vulgar language, not accepted
A time when women were fully attired
A time when patriotism; a virtue admired
We now live in era where anything goes
Hard to distinguish colleagues from foes
Every one has picked an agenda to defend
Voices are silenced: afraid they may offend
Folks are traumatized, by a word or a look
Students sickened, by the title of a book
Authority’s role is constantly questioned
Four letter words constantly mentioned
A well dressed man wore a suit with a tie
Now an unbuttoned shirt will get you by
Women wore hosiery, blouse and a skirt
Cutoffs, flip flops, physical assets overt
Many now change their biological gender
Crude, obtuse: replaced warm and tender
Technical advances slowly eroding creeds
Obscuring civility with vexatious deeds
Categories:
vexatious, allusion, america, angst, humanity,
Form:
Rhyme
Struggling over guilt-inflicted angst
persistent along spontaneous languishing
tangible through prevailing vexatious misery…
…my destitute soul, in carnality’s chain
succumbed to materialism’s glittering offer
defying fervent commitment
to patronize pursuits of eternal worth…
Bewildered midst lurking skepticism
upon doubts of intrigue lure…
my mind besought for marvelous revelation
from truth’s divine portal to grip my perspective
and navigate my heart earnestly
exposing its fixation to virtuous ascent
in the guise of sacrifice, yet when gauged
according to hallowed righteousness
was vainly ephemeral.
Woe was I… beguiled, wavering in my faith
bewitched by fleshly desires
bound to perilous defeat...
---yet God, graciously rich in compassion*
reached out to me along His wondrous pardon…
…Now, my spirit that ceaselessly yields to Him with earnest repentance
enjoys His serene revival, propelling triumphant grateful worship
enabled toward blissful stewardship service ---
--- languishing never!
*Psalm 145:8 The LORD is gracious, and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy.
January 30, 2020
2nd place, "Eight word challenge 1 2020" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton; judged on 1/31/2020.
Categories:
vexatious, christian, devotion, faith, feelings,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Vexatious destroyer of my soul behold what has been done
Timeless and eternal I cycle through endless days of woe
Into the shadows of chaos I go - seeking, searching and lost
Swiftly your knife slices cleanly in, into my flesh so weak
That blade of kindness cuts to the core
Digging, delving and sore
What’s there to find? Nothing but air -
a hole in need of repair
Such a tattered soul as mine today can hardly take it in
Grasping for hands lovingly sent ethereal mists enshroud
Pain and anguish tear through my being, for what does this portend?
Loss, abandonment, deeper sorrow - punishment for my sin
One more kind word will slay me
As ribbons of flesh lay scattered
Scattered in this world of pain
I need, and hate, and yearn, and cry
A total wreck am I
Tears escape unbidden as endless cycles resume
Categories:
vexatious, abuse, betrayal, bullying,
Form:
Blank verse