Ill Mannered Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Deviants and Divine

“I hold a delightful being and an undesirable being inside of me. 
                             It’s up to you which one you meet”
                                                                                 ~~The Poet~~ 

dismally destructive
yet charmingly creative

unabatedly chaotic 
obligatorily perfection

unsophisticatedly naïve
graciously worldly wise

uncouth and ill-mannered
poised etiquette

audaciously rude
enticingly eloquent

unsuitably slovenly
exactingly efficient

decked in Shabby attire
styled with cultured couture

disheveled, dingy
polished, well-groomed

in company of many in ill-repute
thoroughbred acquaintances

robotically draconian
artistically graceful

Furry Chaos

Across my room is my little trusty dog
Furs around my bed while he sleeps like a log

I see he made my shoe his own chewy toy;
Lines here and there like an ill mannered boy.

Laundry stacked on one side with socks sticking out,
Their eyes stare from the heap, haughty and proud.

Though not often I meet this hallowed mess,
Like caught in a furry induced stress-tide

I pet my furry one and bring him a treat
For he's the only one I will gladly repeat

Premium Member The Brown Headed Cowbirds

The group of brown headed cowbirds I hope is migratory
I really don't want them staying in my yard
They are parasitic and can be devastating for other species
As they are lazy or sorry or ill mannered or whatever term is correct

They lay their eggs in another bird's nest
That mom or the two parents are not any wiser
And they feed and look after those eggs 
Just as though they were their own

However, the cowbird is usually larger
And starve their other nest mates 
Cruel, uncaring might be a better word
For the parents of those little offsprings

I know they don't think ahead 
Because if they did they might figure it out
If their eggs are hatched, then their chicks fed
The other bird population gradually dies out
Then what???

They might have to go to work....
Then that could be the end of the birds upon this earth


Premium Member Janus Face - 1290

“I hold a delightful being and an undesirable being inside of me. 
                             It’s up to you which one you meet”
                                                                                 ~~The Poet~~ 

dismally destructive
yet charmingly creative

unabatedly chaotic 
obligatorily perfection

unsophisticatedly naïve
graciously worldly wise

uncouth and ill-mannered
poised etiquette

audaciously rude
enticingly eloquent

unsuitably slovenly
exactingly efficient

decked in Shabby attire
styled with cultured couture

disheveled, dingy
polished, well-groomed

in company of many in ill-repute
thoroughbred acquaintances

robotically draconian
artistically graceful

A Murder of Crows

Late commers snap beaky throats,
mug with angry complaints.

A gathering
of de-frocked preachers strut
and preen, a tussled foraging, 
hustle, and riot.

Up in the branches brothers caw and jeer.
Upheavals come together,
those with more pluck, snatch and pilfer.

Wanton blackouts of carrion crows
crowd my eyes 
with their petty, ill-mannered crimes.

Premium Member An Ill-Mannered Child

An ill-mannered child,
Matrix dilemma,
Bitter when swallowed,
Keeps caught spy secrets,
One for everything.

Elevates moods,
Four hours too long,
Easily hooked,
Go ask Alice.

Famous hill,
Pain crisis,
Dogs hate them,

Dissolves,
Expires

Pill


Premium Member Hatred Hatred

The wings blemish on the laminate panel.
The zany suit shudders at dainty muscle.
Sparkling splashes on abhorring emerge.
Brainless spirits shine over despot spurge.

Ill-mannered standards have been strengthened.
Wood chips were deployed to line neurally connected.
Despite laying the fault, she sparkles brilliantly.
Spitefulness, which to boot inclines daintily.

Extreme squalls will expect to be accused.
Humankind real pith has been frustrated.
Scorn and zeal linger at the core of tyranny.
Their pride makes the thin children hungry.

Tyrants grin as they savor their liquor.
Parroting raw decrees to the unhearing slicker.


Written: November 16, 2021

Dc

Disgusting Crowd
Disgusting crowd consists of Robo type People
They are brainwashed by their idols
Idols are persons who they worship
They are violent, aggressive and ill mannered
They are often dramatic
They behave in a way that one can identify their act
They think they are smart
They try to discover information about other People's opinions
They are employed and unemployed
They have cruel intentions for their target
They serve the same purpose
They obey the idol...
Lesson. Jaisi Public waisa Public Figure.
We have guided missiles and misguided People. Martin Luther..
Many idols are still concealed in their sleeves by the faithful fold,
I am ordained by God to raise the call and be much bold. Iqbal.

Premium Member The Other Man's Grass

The other man's grass always seems greener.
Seems the sun shines much brighter for him.
His house is much better, his clothes are much finer,
No wonder he struts and he grins.

He has a good job, he drives a fine car,
His wife is a raving beauty.
His children are smart, well mannered, behaved,
Even his dog is a cutie.

His life seems so pleasant, a river of pleasure.
He never has cause for concern.
My life however is a constant struggle.
All that I have was hard earned.

My house is a shack, my grass is just weeds,
My wife is a nagging shrew.
My children are stupid, ill mannered indubit,
My dog is a mongrel too.

I sit here and sulk and look over the fence,
And envy the likes of him.
His wife brings him a cooling drink,
As he mows and rakes and tends.

He's always so busy, he makes me dizzy.
Where does he get it all.
Whatever he touches turns to gold.
It's all at his beck and call.

He seems so happy with all that he has,
And works hard to keep it that way.
I would be too if I had his luck;
But I don't so what can I say.

My Compassionate God

Oh My God. Thank You for being so forgiving ~

He mercifully pardons those who are haughty and rude
Ones who have an impertinent, ill-mannered attitude
If you believe in him, you should mirror his kind ways
instead of willfully hurting others with word or phrase

My God's heart is filled with love. It's not cold as stone
Mend your blunt ways. Make amends for them...atone
God smiles upon us for the good things we do and say
He knows when we hurt others and when we go astray

My God is generous because he has given us the world
so bow your head, say a prayer, and be a good old girl
He knows every move we make, so for goodness sake,
be nice or the ground beneath your feet might shake.

Yes, my God is munificent, asking that we show our love
to our brothers and sisters. He's watching from up above.
With these lines of truth, I give praise to God and decree,
they were written to extol one's faults in poetic mimicry.

My Mom and Her Home

These old stones 
have undressed their 
plaster-clothes. Her roof
is tattered, yet she declines my call.

Fashion and novelty
never tempt her. Her soles 
sometimes soil her floor, but she
doesn’t fear a stretched-out  index finger. 

She refuses a share 
of yummy Chinese noodles 
or Arabian barbecue chicken 
from my kitchen beyond the fence. 

She takes steamed rice 
and cheap sardine curry
as five-star food to her home. 
No one teases her, the ill-mannered slurps. 

She hears his footsteps
from the corridor of hallucination. 
Nobody chimes in, her secret whisperings.
She likes the fright, the wilderness of dark lonely nights.

 Nude red stones in her wall
 remain as remnants of old love.
She’ll never come to stay in our new home,
she likes to be on her own always.


First published in Silver Blade Magazine

Halloween Moon

Halloween Moon 

Just one night. 
I get my way. 
It’s okay to wish ill of the living and ill of the dead.

I smile at the grey craters.
They beam back at me.
Then my ill conceived wishes are granted.

Three wishes allowed.
Each lasts the year.
Ill gotten means to ensure karma is secured.

First, to the dead.
I stare in the grave. 
An ill mannered soul suffers their regrets.

Second to the living.
I insist on pain.
A sweeping ill-fated failure because I hold a grudge. 

Third, to me.
Cold shadows surround. 
The gift of three more ill-wishes come the fullness again. 

I am nervous. The sky is full of bright, drab light.
It grows in size to envelop the space behind the dark trees.
I thank it for the illness and wait until it shrinks away.

Oh My Soul

Oh, my soul,
Why do you always go to pluck that fruit?
Why do you always judge on good and evil?
Why do you always appeal to the intellect?
Why do you always please the senses?
Why are you so arrogant and proud?
Why do you command and dominate?
Why are your traduces crude and rude?
Why are your actions ill mannered and inconsiderate?
Why be loud, boastful, talkative and opinionated?
Why be insecure and afraid?
Why be intimidated and inhibited?
Why be introverted and extroverted?
Critical, judgemental, condescending and condemning!
So self-sufficient, self-reliant, self-motivating, self-seeking –
So much into self-love, self-adoration, self-idolatry, self-worship –
Oh my soul, my selfish soul?

That Beckoning Star

The Siren of fate
  lures you onto the rocks

Her beauty enticing
  while masking what’s not

A shipwreck of horrors
  that’s not what it seems

Luring you onward
  away from your dreams

A phantom discovery
  a fool’s masquerade

Its promising temptress
  an ill mannered charade

And once you discover
  your mortality is near

You flail and you panic
  while sinking in fear

The distance you’ve traveled
  at a liars demand

Weighs heavy as you manage
  one last spoken command 

Shouting out to your comrades
   to stay where they are

Searching only within 
  —for that beckoning star

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)

Dheedhi's Daughter's House-Warming

Dheedhi counts days with a sparkle in her heart. 
She hopes to melt her ice-cold loneliness in the warmth of a party.
She buys a washing machine. 
Pickle of mango peel, piquant beef, banana chips…
She packs all with pizzazz. 

But her daughter foresees shards of shame protruding from ma’s 
mannerisms. 
Outworn ways, the ill-mannered slurps, unrefined words…
 
“Tomorrow’s function’s limited, ma. 
I’ll come to pick you another day.” 
Deedhi’s lips tremble and eyes become moist. 
Several desires disappear silently in the Bermuda triangle of generation gap.  

First printed in The Literary Hatchet (Pear Tree Press)

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