At times, it does not feel sustainable,
but that’s the liar’s whisper in our ear.
for none of this would be obtainable
but for Your constant, loving presence here.
And so be off, deceiver, run along.
Perhaps you’ll find a time more opportune,
but know her Guardian is fierce and strong;
your wiles cannot His character impugn.
So cherishing the time which does remain,
we shall arise each morn to meet the day,
place trust in plans You sovereignly ordain
and bolstered by Your Spirit, joyful say:
“Come, Maranatha, Come”, with bated breath,
her bridegroom and her victor over death.
After repeat defeats were strewn
The timing was most opportune
Started on an afternoon in June
Bazball did enthrall was a boon
Love new plans fans did croon
Bliss soaring sixes above festoon
Adoring this scoring monsoon
At the gall all pundits did swoon
Can’t impugn change of fortune
Batting assault & new era hewn
For 2 years were over the moon
Luxuriating in the Bazball lagoon
Magical mystical & mythical rune
Could stop Tests from dying soon
Harbinger of gunslinger’s saloon
Save cricket from its silver spoon
From results the cult couldn’t cocoon
Faults and default style won’t prune
Want to party like they’re in Cancun
Down under plunder burst the balloon
Stokes went from typhoon to buffoon
As the ECB and Key he did lampoon
Then Ben again did his team maroon
So it ends like any loony tune cartoon
As high noon for that wee Kiwi racoon
English Test tycoon to white ball goon
"That’s all folks” Baz’s bull finally spewn
Road To Hell
A blind neglect
imbues our sleep
Where idle hides
a wound cut deep
The apathetic
coward reigns
when good intention
— rhymes with pain
(Dreamsleep: March, 2026)
Charlie’s Hand
"And when we meet in joy again
an Angel's welcome to befriend
As Heaven's Gate swings open wide
Saint Peter waiting just inside
With Charlie reaching out his hand
— to take us to the Promised Land"
(The First Book Of Prayers: March, 2026)
Piercing The Veil
The tip of your pen
its inkwell unleashed
to vanquish the darkness
where liars will sleep
The point of your spear
finds the darkest heart
To kill and impugn
— where depravity starts
(The New Room: March, 2026)
Wasteland
Staying a stranger
defines who you are
Living in darkness
— alone and afar
(Dreamsleep: March, 2026)
Walking The Line
An unfortunate truth ...
a fortuitous lie
The first calls you inward
— the second to die
(Dreamsleep: March, 2026)
What they don’t know
one can only assess
What they can’t see
they can never possess
What they affirm
they can never deny
What they proclaim
they can never imply
Things they impugn
only traitors allow
Things they assume
they will never avow
Things they besmirch
they will never applaud
Things they embrace
they will never defraud
Once they betroth
all suitors be damned
Once they constrict
to never expand
Once they commit
to never rethink
Once they get sober
to never take drink
If they remember
those promises cast
If they retender
the future and past
If they stay open
the visions will come
If they’re bespoken
— the truth zero sum
(The New Room: January, 2026)
If you judge it AI-written,
that ache is yours, not mine.
I need no borrowed wisdom—
I craft my own masterpieces.
Your indulgence cannot impugn my intelligence;
my poems shine with brilliance.
Think like a machine if you want to—
I care less.
The machine itself bows to my wisdom,
knowing I am what it is not.
Without programming,
I write beyond its best.
Next time you call my poem machine-made,
know this: you too are programmed,
unable to discern the spark
of human intelligence
from artificial mimicry.
You are, more or less,
a machine in training.
Use not your filthy mouth to brand my poem as garbage;
rather, it is you who must cleanse your brain
of the trash you let deceive you.
Like a pig, you cannot escape your stench;
even when washed clean,
the reek remains ingrained.
And you will always return
to wallow in the filth
of your artificiality.
Trijan refrain
Grief ascends with the rising moon
'neath frosted Winter skies
A lone wolf howls, wailing a rune
desperate for replies
Her mate has died, she must lament
beside him 'til last breath was spent
Parted in death
Parted in death
His body torn, tattered and rent
Grief ascsends with the rising moon
as thorns, it pricks my skin
There is sorrow in the wolf's tune
My emotions akin
To shadowed darkness we lay claim
Eyes cold without a spark or flame
Feeling such pain
Feeling such pain
Love, it's you I seek to defame
Grief ascends with the rising moon
Haunting my thoughts tonight
Who do I blame and dare impugn
with defiance and spite
I would caterwaul to the wind
if death's warrant I could rescind
His life restored
His life restored
No longer would I be chagrined
Draw back the drapes of those tenebrous clouds
for my eyes desire a glimmer of the pallid moon.
Sullen shadows of night, her beauty enshrouds.
Covering her faint glow is a sin, I dare impugn.
Lustrous is her light when emerged in the night,
as pale as the alabaster skin of my love's cheek.
A pearl in the sky. Passion's flame she will ignite,
reflected across waters in an aura of mystique.
Without the moon, my soul would mourn, bereft.
Her splendor worthy of lyrics written in musical bars.
I would write a sonnet for her if my hand was deft.
Even though her hue is wan, she outshines stars.
I'll not weep for the moon while her light wanes.
I'm aware that it's just a phase, and soon will pass.
Then, comes the time when her luminance reigns
and billowed nimbus will turn aside for her. Alas!
If overcast shadows choose to darken the skies
let them do so to offer shade from the sun's heat,
but never allow them to conceal from my eyes
the trysting place where the pale moon and I meet.
July 22, 2022
One In Five 2 Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Phrase 4
Unruly rabble demolished statues of General Robert Lee.
Now, the politically correct clique is a-comin' after me!
My name is Robert Lee as well and 'twas so inopportune,
That I be associated with the General, my name to so impugn!
The mob wants to eradicate anything to do with General Lee,
Includin' his namesake little old insignificant me!
Besides all of that I'm a Yankee born in the Hoosier state,
And had nothin' to do with the Rebel Cause I'm happy to relate!
So any of you fellers named Stonewall Jackson or John Bell Hood,
Hunker down 'cause a request to change yer name is a likelihood!
Robert Lee (Hinshaw)
Your life is the full world, the stars, sun, and moon.
On your own, you can fight the tough times real soon.
Unsteady moves can't let you up the ladder; never tone down.
Rarely will we meet; we set the lousy goal to impugn.
Tacked and seated, man has doubts around his destiny.
In the universe, all is set by its needs, not by inerrancy.
Memories of agony and misery are not murky.
Emotions disguise behind words, extort repay.
Important to be happy, do what you love, and you will succeed.
Share your calmness, work for success, and greater reward.
Love the holiest stars; you will get a reverse welt.
In the trials of life, sync up to the ethical dealt.
Muttering stops; the sun has faded to that extent.
If your core tilts to life, brave vitality, faith will last.
Time is short; live the life of no one or precept.
Enduring one's own goal, expect to aim too tight.
During your life, believe yet not fall into the urge to defect.
3rd place winner
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Contest: "RITHIMUS DIVISA"
Sponsor: Gregory Barden
04/22/2020
From:
"Think of Me"
04/18/2019
Victims
By: Tom Wright
1-8-2020
As victims, some people themselves, will paint,
It’s simply a way of voicing their complaint.
Portraying a mountain, not the hill of a mole,
Gaining public sympathy is the unstated goal.
A narrative produces words, rapid and profuse,
The aim is to show some alleged abuse.
By playing the victim with intent to impugn,
They release hot air capable of lifting a balloon.
Politics, A Dirty Game
Tom Wright’s Opinion
12-14-2019
Politicians come off,
as being pugnacious.
But most lack backbone,
And will never be coriaceous.
They’re mission statement must read,
The other party to impugn.
It’s due to this attitude,
Political parties won’t be in attune.
Once elected they view voters,
As no more than a hick.
When I look at congress,
I see stooges slapstick.
Like a puppet master,
Lobbyist’s pull strings and they dance.
Getting palms greased,
While their net worth they enhance.
They sling insults and innuendo,
From both House and Senate.
It’s for this palm greasing,
They’ve chosen to be in it.
And the media keeps its job by
“Keeping us Informed”
I shall not envy the upstart's polished gait,
Or wish myself as old knights in diamonds
Hued to bamboozle familiar souls and eye,
Flattered by aping pals and ersatz blondes.
For swanky gait soon in quiet slumbers lies
In darkest gloom beyond men's urging eyes;
Where kowtowing lip trills no ego-oiling tune
To laud vain legs that all wise sense impugn.
Since old knights and their fabled crystals fall
Into gloomy abysms past all plagiarized cheer,
And their wide glows sheer shifting dreams be;
Which deft poet thereon docks his sailing soul?
As for manipulable eyes and souls of fan-stars,
And idol blondes cued to flatter clumsy knights;
Are not both simple wit and truth strictly averse
To all such visionless ego-trip and short-sights?
Give upstart parvenus and 'knights' whole pomp,
I'll claim the simple logic they so mulishly tromp!
thus,
like snow,
cold ashes fall
charred history’s
hubristic gales
truth’s torment
tucked into howling
acquiescent innocence.
Empty men
line the banks
fishless rivers
sit idle
barbless hooks
impugn the air
ivy strangled
rowboats sigh
With age color fades
into the weariness
wonder wanders
among the weeds
joy darts through
day lit darkness
hides hope’s
vacant sunshine
time taints
tomorrow’s tomorrow
the calendar’s lie
tri-colored ink charade
mocking the idleness
of one so busy
last call
nightcap dosage
John G. Lawless
©6/8/2019
No stranger to amorous encounters
Knocked over furniture, clothes here and there
Perspiring with anxiously pounding hearts
Anticipation of this torrid affair
Disappointing temporary distractions
Tandem raging fires, so falsely set ablaze
Hearts aching for that "one" unknown
Sleepless nights replaced, by lonely days
Then one glorious day love was found
A deep love, without bounds or control
Felt with a touch, or a glance so complete
Two racing hearts beat, as if in one soul
A few years later this love unraveled
To both, this was an unwelcome surprise
All manner of obstacles they might impugn
But not this one, no not when love dies!
Sub Categories
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.