Long Abhorred Poems
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A hypnotic effect is possessed by this gadget
It could even lead to a syndrome called pagets
Bent over and private its user spellbound
But unsocial and rude to all those around
Multiple noises are deftly emitted
With buttons to press and assets unlimited
Texts dispensed and news accessed
Leaving conversation to certain death
Ring tones abound in public spaces
Phone chat like barkers in public places
photos and selfies posted here and there
All manner of games to further ensnare
Thus putting the user in greater peril
When mobile phones become a menace
To drivers and walkers all absorbed
A selfish misuse to be abhorred
And a blight when the charger is mislaid
And constant debit to be repaid
This amazing gadget should remain in pocket
Until really needed, then out of the closet
At school I abhorred poetry
A poet I NEVER would be
But life dealt us a cruel blow
Hubby’s tests soon were to show
CANCER
Cancer is such a cruel disease
Since then life’s not been a breeze
When he faced the surgeon’s knife
It dramatically changed my whole life
WRITING
T’was the first time I picked up my pen
Over three thousand poems since then
Covid lockdown came so I undertook
My dreams to work on my first book
CREATING
366 poems, one for each day of the year
Only a fool like me would have the idea
The idea is finally coming to fruition
My editor’s superb, a creative magician
PUBLISHING
Dreams to publish at last will come true
Once editing and artwork are through
Then I’ll self publish my very first book
Silly poems, I hope you’ll take a look!
Dreaming Poetry Contest
06/10/23
BAD SANTA
Christmas Eve Santa went to a party
And got drunk on wine, beer and aged
whisky
He slept all through Christmas day
To Mrs clause's dismay
Poor kids were left crying round a bare tree...
FROSTY'S DEMISE
Frosty was in a bit of a muddle
Started melting and knew there was trouble
Santa said "It's a great shame
And climate change is to blame"
The next day poor Frosty was a puddle...
RIP SCROOGE
Scrooge caught an elf who was taken aback
Bound his hands and then put him in a sack
Watching was Jacob Marley
And he abhorred cruelty
So he gave Scrooge a fatal heart attack...
...They told us to hate those people
who take a risk to make profit,
that instead we should idolize
those who say they’re socialist.
Bu t I look a their history,
and it’s utterly insane,
just blood, and death, and prison camps
wherever their ideas did rein.
Twenty-five million Russian souls,
sixty-five million Chinese,
and all they brought to those who lived
was oppression and poverty.
Even within our own cities,
where the far-left runs roughshod,
we see feces, typhus, and decay;
once great towns now just left to rot.
Detroit has become a ruin,
San Francisco smells of dung,
Los Angeles covered in trash,
the Golden State has gone all bunk.
That’s what they want me to worship?
It’s a plague that should be abhorred,
besides that, it’s immoral to
have economics based on force.
The capitalist freely trades,
both sides agree or it’s no-go,
price itself becomes a language
so all of the people can know
how much something may be valued,
what is and is not in demand,
giving them a general idea,
so they can make a living, plan.
And the mass of competition
responds to the people’s needs,
does not need to be ‘ordered to,’
it responds automatically.
It’s what lifted civilization,
there’s no arguing with that,
without it we’d still ride horses,
and electricity we’d lack.
Those fools want us to reject this,
when it makes our nation great?
I’ll save my rage for leftists that
dare try to tell me who to hate.
Those judgments are mine alone.
The poor are lazy, languid, and loafing – the rich rut,
Is this why many people of my nation have no hut?
Isn't the concept: every rich is industrious, a myth?
Isn't there a great gulf betwixt a blacksmith and a goldsmith...?
I know my rickshaw-puller neighbor, born in penury,
His ancestors were poor too for many a century;
Can I judge his hardships his sin or the sin of his dad?
Or the transgression of a system that has gone so bad...?
I have seen the rich climbing the ladder of life briskly,
The branches of trees of mammon, they catch hold so quickly;
Hard work and calculative effort, no doubt, are in them,
Don't cells of dishonesty occupy their root and stem...?
By tilling the earth and breaking rocks pennies the poor earn,
In torn rags they shiver in cold; in summer sun they burn;
Is begging a fashion that the poor bejewel them with?
Doesn't shame cut them to pieces, within, like grass in a scythe?
Poverty is a curse and not a blessing, the world knows,
Hunger, thirst, homelessness, and illnesses paucity sows;
Undernourished children, like cattle, are pushed to labor,
The poor are, often, abhorred and loathed by each rich neighbor...!
Isn't fighting poverty a duty of every person?
Doesn't, by the vile of inequality, crises worsen?
God has made the mammon for all - this fact each one should know,
The concept of living and letting live, each should follow...!!!
28 March 2023
Writing Challenge - 'P' Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
Lies told
sometimes we can be so selfish,
consumed with only our own needs,
those deep inner feelings, desires, wishes
which as a result, cause us to cast a lie as seed.
Untrue words and phrases
said to make it better for ourselves
to eradicate any blame on our part
to hide a mistake or error shelved;
but the lie chokes in our throats and races in our hearts.
In the end we fight but pursue giving in
as it becomes an uncontrolled seething monster of lore
with the lie now growing and evolving
into a life so large it is abhorred
and now lives in need and necessity of absolving.
Upon its display
it dies in its fears without recovery
failing to safeguard its source
escaping reality and at last revealing truth through discovery
that we have foolishly created by some unnatural force.
Solomon wouldn't listen,
Though God suffered him for years.
He warned him and He warned him,
That his actions would bring tears.
Solomon's wealth and power,
Were known both far and wide,
And kings from other countries,
Brought their daughters for his brides;
But God said Solomon be wise,
Send them away from you;
For they are vile before My eyes,
And all their daughters too.
If you accept them in, My Son,
Their sins will be on you.
But Solomon paid The Lord no mind,
He welcomed those kings in;
Made pacts, alliances and deals,
Ignoring grievous sins,
Committed by these kings and queens,
Acts that God abhorred,
And took unto him concubines,
And wives before The Lord.
Women that God told him,
Were unclean before His eyes,
And that they'd bring their gods with them,
So strong would be their ties;
That Israel would follow them,
And he would fall from grace,
And that's just how it happened,
And Solomon lost face.
Seven hundred took he them,
And even their gods too.
He let them build their temples,
And went in with them too.
His heart was turned away from God,
By the company he kept.
He followed other gods with them,
And God, Himself, wept.
That's what's happening here today.
They're coming here in droves'
Fleeing from oppression,
That their way of life enclosed.
They say our God offends them,
And we shouldn't honor Him;
Well, their god offends me too,
So the same is just for them.
They wish to take away from us,
The very thing they seek,
Denying us our freedoms,
Our own laws have made us weak.
We are infidels to them,
And of little consequence.
They'll change our laws and change our God.
I say it don't make sense.
We'll fall from grace like Solomon.
Lose all that we hold dear.
Our freedom gone, we'll lose our land,
Then hide and quake in fear.
“The darkened sky stole my tears” and left me
to face the threat of cancer with deep doubts.
Fear overwhelmed me, my tears absentee,
dreading the shadows of my whereabouts.
Not hiding my bald head maybe was dumb;
my plague, the curse of chemo, I abhorred.
Then I read the beginning of wisdom
is found in the fear (reverence) of the Lord.
God’s Word took precedence, shedding His light
on the darkness that had engulfed my soul.
Reading Psalms / Proverbs long into each night,
God’s promises put worry on parole.
My doctor is honest, tells me no lies;
cancer is gone now but may be returning.
Nevertheless, my faith in God survives
and godly fear is a lesson I’m still learning.
Pushed to the edge by reality, yes, these verses will stifle.
A revolving door always present; New York City....Vicious Cycle.
This is a poem about the hardships, and monotony of this age
The world unchanging in its essence....many problems to assuage.
Why is our purlieu in such predicaments, the morass so intense?
It seems the fire has been extinguished; in other words we've acquiesced.
Hallways, alleys, subway stations/where the weak and troubled roam.
Considered dross by our society, that's why the streets became their home.
Our youth in dire straits, how can they be redeemed?
High school dropouts, teenage suicide, and for meth my brothers fiend.
Homeless people are anathema; we seldom love the poor…
New York City...Vicious Cycle....where daily living is abhorred.
A nimbus cloud, can't see the acme/ Where Then Can Love Be Found?
The cacophony breaks the silence; the voice of weeping does resound.
Welfare parents in a quandary, just barely scraping by.
Elderly people doing no better...though receiving S.S.I.
New York City....Vicious Cycle, spreading like a deadly cancer.
Minority children disenfranchised; drug dealing is their answer.
Boys and girls, young and pretty/ jailbait, nowhere to run.
A perfect target for a pedophile; their tender lives have just begun.
Dark specters in every borough; people lost and living trifle.
Eight million stories, naked truth...New York City...Vicious Cycle.
The Killing Field
Bong Son,Viet Nam
Not All Dead, Returned In Body Bags
Written: By Tom Wright
1/21/03
The war in Viet Nam rages no more,
But what say ye of the animate dead?
Can we continue their plight to ignore?
Staring past the crimson flow they shed?
Pages from life were systematically torn,
Eyes beholding things, which they abhorred.
Returning, aged beyond years, and worn,
Spat upon by some, while by others ignored.
The war they fought some saw as failed,
Protests at home left psyches' battered.
Like the "Hippies" they could have bailed,
But doing the right thing, and duty mattered.
To those, whose loved one's stood deployed,
There was no time that prayer was lost.
Praying that life and limb be not destroyed,
While knowing, war exacts a colossal cost.
Dedicated to my Brother
Master Sgt. Joe D. Wright
U. S. Army, (Ret.)
1st Air Cavalry
Location: unknown