You see the evil doesn’t look at all condemned
Those evil troublemakers of mankind
Are well remembered, way above the nameless dead
Who by the will of country rulers had to die
Because the actions, as you say my darling dear
Speak louder than words, and so they act
As if they had too little history in rear
So thinking they’re unique in making pacts
They settle on the same old evil plan
The same catastrophe, the same vain sacrifices
Inevitably ends it up, as it did then
When those like them disdained the words of wise
Complacency can’t be outsmarted by the cruel
Can’t be reported by the frightened flatterers
Complacency is always punished by the rule
With no exceptions to it, but that’s not about us
We can’t relate to those obsessed with power
To their staffers, games of death and hymns of glory
The bumblebees collect the pollen from your flowers
And there we are, in our eternal garden story.
The Regal Ladies of Mt. Royal
convene every first Wednesday for brunch.
With honeyed words served up in pure oil -
accolades are drunk down like so much punch.
When flatterers meet, the devil goes to dinner.
and tastes opportunity for his gain.
Super-sized trifles spun by real winners -
a meal from which Satan cannot abstain.
February 18, 2023
Quoting this Spanish proverb:
When flatterers meet, the devil goes to dinner.
There was a man
tormented,
abandoned...
He had no friends,
only flatterers...
He was so poor,
but so pauper,
that nothing had...
There was nothing, in fact he only had
silver, gold, and cash...!
I do not have
no one to boss orders,
only in me I command...
while flatterers
break stones i
lord of me
I build castles
in the air, I count
ships on the horizon...!
I welcome visits rhymes attract but don’t court their friend’s verse,
poetic politics aside, fake flatterers seem worse
than ‘gold’ that finds a moment’s fame and then proceeds to rust!
Let musings mimic dead sea scrolls, own fate (detrital dust)
if ‘Universe’ has no “I AM” with whom lost hearts can jam!
I call all friend who come around, pro-bono read my work
and sometimes drop a hint I’ve touched them (tit for tat’s sad quirk).
Real joy’s impulse to praise new piece! ‘Dust-devil’ enters fray
lifts found ‘loved post’ invisibly in feint that feels like play,
a flirt that’s debonair, though devil’s decomposing leaves affair.
May poetry serve faith (muse prosper Grace not earned at all),
grant kindnesses, a breeze that cools on sultry days (pre-Fall),
its politics, not left or right, weave soft (with dignity)
what butterflies dreamt in cocoons before mans’ eyes could see!
Should preference for ‘form’ divert from ‘love’ evolved by dirt?
Long Tooth
January 5th in 2021
One who is full
of himself,
as fragile as crystal ball
on a shelf,
who sulks in resentful
vain defense
against the slightest
imagined offense,
and shines or dims
or shatters
depending on the tricks
of flatterers.
THE DEMISE OF JOY
I have known you since the days of childhood
I recall how I watched you as you played
Every memory of you is so good
You were unaware of the joy you made
She will be mine one day is what I prayed
So these memories I never will trade
And at night when on my pillow I dream
These sweet memories of you flood my mind
With thoughts so sublime, serene, and supreme
No greater peace nor comfort can I find
The reason I had to leave you behind
Was to engage in a war so unkind
While I was fighting far away from home
You met someone who wooed you with smooth talk
Because he could see you never would roam
In the evenings, you would go for a walk
And he would ply you with all this smooth talk
Not once did you suspect nor did you balk
Now I am left all alone just to dream
Since you fell for this great flatterers scheme
25 January 2018
For the contest sponsored by Laura Loo
Where Is My Destination
Are we bees,
Or something else?
We are busy from morning till dead night;
We are collecting honey from flowers to flowers,
Making a wonderfull behive,
We do think we will survive-
As long as there is sun light
That's why sometimes we do fight-
With our friends and foe,
Sometimes we are confused what to do.
We have done lots of things for others,
That's why we have unlimited flatterers,
But time is too short,
I have to get ready for my permanent resort.
I don't know when exactly my soul will depart,
Leaving me alone breaking my beloved's heart.
How happy is he born or taught
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skills!
Whose passions not his masters are;
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care
Of public fame or private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice;who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of state,but rules of good;
Who hath his life from rumours freed;
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors greate;
Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book or friends;
This man is freed from servile bands
O' hope to rise or fear to fall:
Lord of himself,though not of lands,
And having nothing,yet hath all.
condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion
remember Ballet is best learned using proper steps and stages.
every tree is relieved when Spring comes
a shotgun wedding: A case of wife or death.
the dairy industry in the Middle-East depends on milk shakes.
every lumberjacks can keep accurate records because they understand logs.
look Once you've seen one shopping centre, you've seen a mall.
if you want good feedback ask any road-roller driver - they are natural flatterers.
fields of bare brown earth can be a harrowing site
every marriage, she got a new name and a dress.
sorry soup all stolen from Google , was going to be for Christy teas comp
This world is full of enough negativity. Any style give me a positive outlook on life. Hint: I'm fond of a play on words.
spells create life down the side and lots of word play put I can't enter it lol smile value only :-)
Hateful speech doth not one become
Neither doth a lieing tongue
Filthy language hurteth the ear
Threatening words causeth hearts to fear
A gossips whisper is poison indeed
A flatterers words its caution thou need
Hasty words are ones mistakes
Bragging words doth aggravate
When thou speaketh use wisdom and grace
And thou willst not have egg on thine face
25 sept 2012 7:50 pm
Bobb Marly
A new wind blows I can but see
A hidden depth to agony
A coming drought of faith again
O Lord, let me not seek in vain
To know beyond the veil of life
My purpose here, for what my strife
In your sunshine and in your rain
O Lord, let me not seek in vain
Your love to know and ever share
To cast off fickle bands of care
And trust you through the fires of pain
O Lord, let me not seek in vain
To right life's wrong on human kind
And lead with patience too the blind
To the fountain cleansing our stain
O Lord, let me not seek in vain
Nor with the flatterers here join
For paltry praise and rusting coin
Against thy grace and truth's domain
O Lord, let me not seek in vain
Kingdom's crumble, silent the word
Love shot down, a featherless bird
I hear anew sins rattling chain
O Lord, let me not seek in vain
But let me hold your cross still pure
And stand with you forevermore
Where thunders roll and floods are fain
O Lord, let me not seek in vain
self, be not overly full of yourself,
as fragile as crystal in a glass shelf,
which, at the slightest imagined offense,
recoils, sulks in resentful, vain defense
of your self-image that easily shatters,
so effortlessly tricked by flatterers.
The man with the plastic bug in his head
monopolized my dreams last night
in the place that the horsefly of my dignity
finally surrender to the impresario without a fight.
Seven days and 7 hours transplanted in my memorabilia
reminding the rustiness of the purple child
flatterers danced beneath the clouds of melancholy
and morality spreader the master plan inside my mind.
The disinheritance of my immortality the final day
discouraged my desire to see the forbidden love
restored my will to escape
manipulated the deep of the uncertainty above.
Released from the plastic bug in my head
try to cover my yellow child in the purple sky
laughing,singing,whispering,playing
seven days and seven hours before he dies.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.