Groveling Poems | Examples

Get Off Your Knees, Marlon

Pitifully, he calls her again and again
Brando yelling, "STELLA" from his knees.
Like he ever meant something to her...
Stop groveling like a fool. She was a tease.

She doesn't come from Kansas or Oz
and Sunnybrook Farm is make believe.
Stop shouting her name. For crying out loud.
Shed your tears somewhere else if you grieve.

She left long ago on a streetcar to get away.
It's your fault she's gone. You and your drama.
You killed her desire.  That's what she said.
The conflicts you created left her in trauma.

You were the spider who sat down beside her,
the tiny creature that was much too hairy.
You brazenly acted as if you were a king,
but there's nothing about you that's scary.

After all this time, still blubbering for Stella?
You're a weeping wimp and it's pathetic
how you demean yourself time after time.
No one cares because you're not empathetic.

She waved farewell and made your life hell.
So, get off your knobby knees, Marlon.
Alice doesn't live here anymore. She left
and no longer wants to call you, 'Darlin.'

Said in the Same Breath as Freedom - May 8

“O’!, work, work, work away,—ignore your thirst
and shovel steadily—keep nourrishing the coals
of locomotive life!(the cost is but your souls);
All other occupations?—to hell dispersed!

“Amen! your bosses, with cash (to be disbursed),  
busy their hands with myriad controls
made to mold you for your determined roles; 
Yes… yes!, because the silence would be worst!

“Aye! Men! your calling is made manifest!
my stores, my mines, my workshops, factories
come crawling, groveling on their sore knees
to beg: ‘Please! healthy muscle![sic]—invest!’
What else would you do with your God given time
if not that I could earn you my damn dime?”

Montreal - Apr 29

O’ Mother!, take me back at last, receive
—(unclasped arms as vast as mine)—my embrace;
this longing, laughing love, the proof and grace
of my abiding for your shores.—I grieve 

the lasting loss that shear struck—do believe
my grave and groveling art of disgrace,—
when ten years had but barely found their place
in my life. As with you then, now I leave

behind the home I’ve called as such awhile,
and answer your unbroken imperative:
anew with you! once more to your sweet heart!
I—through my candid, unshadowed smile—
effervesce—(so this is what it means to live!)
a new part! a chance for a novel start!

Lost Town

The wind is in from lost town,
it is as thin as a knife edge.
Razor beaked gulls
twist their necks, rolling
in the gritty bluster.
Lost town sinks beneath
churning clouds,
its smokestacks
just above each
new wave of despair.
The people there
have misplaced their lives,
and if they only had time
they would out-scream the gulls,
but a groveling grind
keeps them turning iron wheels,
or shoveling dry clinker
into long rusted buckets
of hope.

Of Arrogance and Humility

arrogance
                   insolent, hoity-toity
          domineering, flawing, insulting
haughtiness, pomposity, humbleness, grace
            groveling, praising, craving
                   profound, modest
                          humility

Bag of Spiders

Disgusting could be a weaker word to express the scene,
Nauseating and stomach-churning the locus has been;
Sliding, slithering, groveling, crouching, crawling, creeping, 
Filling, feeling, and falling they were seeping and sleeping...!

Crab, lynx, silk, orb, ogre... varieties were within,
Specimen of many species, yet, resembled akin;
Weaving webs and entwining each other they pulled, and pushed,
Weighing and wheeling their bodies across they looked ambushed...!

Shooting silk out of their abdomen, they preyed on insects,
Powerful they all seemed as though with venomous effects;
The patience and persistence they practice can be adored,
Midst their ugliness their role in the world can't be ignored...!!!


03 June 2023 
Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest
Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest

A Glorious Easter Dream

To dream…..

Of how I can put a smile on another 
human’s face.
And not be one groveling in media 
and it’s sad disgrace!


To make a genuine difference in this 
violent world.
Not a lost soul,caught in hideous
political,lies and swirls!

The world knows not,that this is Holy
Saturday.
It honors dishonest men,and punishes 
the good~vanquish them with your 
blessings in every way.


4/8/2023

Dollhouse

Quite on the hill. Faceless children run around by a cave who calls them in with a signal straight and gazed. Walking a concurrent line with a retinue firefly disperse into a dome with a small wooden house in the middle. The great white and yellow king nested in his throne of groveling worms. A human face he has popping his face it does with eyes and teeth spouting out in its secretion. Drenched upon the childrens missing faces seeping like a mask denude showing their missing faces. Memories brought back light now seen for now children have been free.

Frankenstein Your Wife Is a Doll

Bride of Frankenstein does not like the scene she is seeing.
Her husband looks so delightful, he might be peeing.
Elvira Mistress of the dark is losing her clothes loud and proud.
Her large headlights are shining and showing, collecting a crowd.

The werewolf is groveling down low at the hussy’s feet.
Tasting the hem of her gown, what could be so sweet?
Bride of Frankenstein is furious, going to tear into them all.
When Elvira says “Frankenstein, your wife is a doll!

She is protective and personable, and I like all her ways.
She is even sweet-tempered on those womanly days.”
Bride of Frankenstein begins to rapidly take all mean ideas back.
Elvira might be nicer than she thought, so she begins to back track.

As soon as she is gone Frankenstein says this was a close call!
I know says Elvira, who is not truly that much of a doll.
Dracula is still trying to figure out where to sink his pointed teeth.
Werewolf is eating bugs out of Elvira's hem a carnivore relief.

Kryptonite

you knew the feeling of weakness,
the tremble of your famished body,
the restless mope of a spirit,
groveling tired thoughts.
but then. . .

you laid eyes upon him,
you discovered another weakness,
fustigated with heart palpitations,
insides nerved with desire,
languid with infatuation.

a predilection of the soul,
your heart unwavering with love,
for he who made your body weak
makes you drown in exuberance too.
heart and mind perplexed in reactions.

how can his mere presence,
make you aberrate from yourself?
stoked in oblivescence of yesterday,
he becomes your now, your today
and everyday - satiating every thought.

he overpowers your senses,
your feelings, your gullibility to believe,
you are capitulated to his being
as someone who carries your world,
you needed him, you prayed for him.

but you couldn't have him,
you could never touch him,
you could not dream of him,
yet you were candidly in love
with a man who was your
kryptonite.

Ebony Tongue

though they sought the gentle verse
a wracking pain drew up their purse 
as thoughtless sovereigns hissed their curse 
the dollars drained; their feign- rehearsed

this tragic dismantling 
ever-torn fabric seams 
flowing a pious demand of the feed 
groveling majesties 
planted their effigy 
cordially under the pew cushion seats

stating repeat 
loving the myrrh 
silent decree
ebony spurs

Vaccine Game In Kansas

Vaccine game we are not winning
The COVID-19 vaccines
A mess in kansas

I follow all leads
Begging groveling pleading
No roads lead to shots

Hours on the phone
Waiting lists of twelve hundred
I reluctantly give up

God has His own plan
I grovel big one more time
Got vaccine today

Perpetually learn
Let go let God again
Relearn it always

Proving I Am Alive

I never saw myself clearly
But smelled my own disappointment
For I reeked with it; an acid smell.
I tasted Vicks in my mouth
When there was none in the house
And had not been for years
An unfamiliar voice told me I was a loser
It came from within; I recognized it not at all
But totally too

I was a sight, groveling and growling silently
I doubt anyone knew; for I kept this wisely silent
Away from the eyes of the others
And you are all the others
I can trust no one.
Smelling disinterest and disregard on you
As you pass me by not seeing me or my little dog Two
I have never recognized my sorrow
Or put a name on it
Preferring to keep it way down deep
Where I put a lid on it

You might see me as a party animal with flair
Self-confident, and outgoing
I scoff at the irony of that
As I take out my little friend
And watch the red bubbles pop out of my arm
As I make little cuts
To prove that I am alive
And can feel something.

Gift of Glory

God gave me a great gift of glory
A gift of a good gracious guardian, 
Gifts of Gaiety, Gumption and Grief
God’s gift grants no gates for groveling
Nor are they gimmicks, glitches, nor guilt
Thus, the gift so grand gives Gypsies and Greeks
The same kind of gratitude and grace
All kinds of genders and gauche gawky geeks
  Are equaled as gifts of the Glory God
I have no time for gibbers and gabbles
But to glean through ungarbling gospels
Giving boys and girls no chance for greed,
No chance for gruesome grueling gossips
My gift is not gullible for gambits
Plus, my gift of character speaks no arrogance

Groveling To Stay the We That Makes Me

I want to be me, but I want us too. 
I am not me unless you are part of me.
I deserve one more chance.
Everybody does actually.

One mistake does not make a relationship
So why should it break one?
Especially a good one.
We are part of each other, for life.

You cannot discard me. Disrespect me, sure.
Maybe I deserve a bit of that, but we are linked for life.
We are blood; you cannot deny that.
I want to be me, but I want us too.

I am not me unless you are part of me
So forgive me. I am begging you. 
I know I am not perfect, but I am your imperfect person.
Whatever I have to do, I will do. Please just ask. The answer is yes.

• Short Groveling Poems
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• Best Groveling Poems
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• Long Groveling Poems
• Groveling Quotes