Long Backhanded Poems
Long Backhanded Poems. Below are the most popular long Backhanded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Backhanded poems by poem length and keyword.
They looked at me with doubt
The light had long gone out
I was long past my prime
Ripples in a pond subside over time
"That's him?", an onlooker thought it odd
"Yes" his brother said, "I swear to God!"
A girl said "I don't see it, but it must be there"
Their doubts didn't faze me, I really didn't care
"It's all a fraud," said a sad man staring
I laughed inwardly, I was past caring
A colleague thought I was magnetic, explained it by a pheromone
He thought I didn't wash; I just gave a groan.
Then a woman said angrily that I must be kept down
A backhanded compliment, but I'd rather not drown
A young man told his friends that I had a "dog face"
He didn't feel I belonged in his land, his place.
For many years, I hadn't slept through the night
But one day, I got up, feeling alright.
Put a bike helmet on my bald head
Got on my Trek, like a 70's retread.
Cycled out of the city, into green lands
Blood rushed to my face, heard musical bands
Light came from somewhere, buried inside
Perhaps its last stand, before it expired and died
A few people caught sight, gasped with surprise
We were all feeling good, there were stars in their eyes
They gave me a smile, a smile from the heart
Like a sudden symphony, like a work of art.
Should we believe in illusion, should we stick to the fact?
Should we get to the real, or fall for an act?
Whatever was true, I'm old now and worn
But in a smile, in enthusiasm, it's always reborn
Smiles are cheap, I think there's no harm
Life is short, why not add myth, no cause for alarm.
A believer in God
killing babies fun fun fun
rape, well I blame all sides
Forgive
my hate
and ignorance
and silence when it maters
I have traveled no where
have no conscience
love those who disparage the weak
the weak are terrorist
the nerve of them to speak
I have no heart
a heart requires pumping blood
empathy is for other fools
no one cares
who drowns under Zionist floods
I have no voice
other than among peers
who love their rifles
more than they fear Gods cheer
My sword is a Tommyhawk
empty words and
backhanded slaps
if you hate I am yours
I am in good company
amongst all the silent ones
indifference is my medal of honour
I am America
I am none of the above
I have a heart
Why do you feel it necessary to make snide
remarks in the guise of a compliment?
The person I may have been last year is not
the person I am today. But you can’t really see
that since you’ve decided to throw digs my way,
in the guise of backhanded praise.
Things are not the same as before, but, when you
speak all I feel is a sucker punch to my core.
An ugly word wrapped in a pretty package does not
make it sweet and appealing, only unpalatable.
Needless to say when spoken in mixed company
just makes you look like a tyrant and horrible.
You feel you are beyond reproach that all you do
Is as it should be done and no one else can get in
word one. You may be fooling yourself into thinking
You are a genuine, professional person,
But all I see is judgment and derision.
RufePal kept muttering "jv" team as it looked
around the room,
hoping to find someone underage to mentor to.
Michael blurted, "you and your precious
America! You are so gullible and trusting.
Penney started singing, "Scotty doesn't know, Scotty doesn't know oh...so don't tell Scotty."
Shut, the, fuuuu, up!
Do you think Bill Gates bought all that farmland,
after visiting China and performing fell...because
he wanted to rub elbows with you dirt farmers !
Gus complained, "i'm not a dirt farmer,
I am an old gum collector."
The gang nodded and murmured, looking one
to another in testimony and agreement.
"I know how to work a hoe, sure,
but I am more a collector of hoes than anything, philosophically.",
chimed Silky.
"I collect damned New Age Church souls
that do not care to notice the obvious difference
in Dogma between the Original Eclipsed Church
and this imposed heretical one." added Vatican2Priest.
"Penney's eyes lit up and this time she pulled...
"Enough, you simpleton MAGATS",
she hissed, "I'm not a MAGA, I hate America just like you!, she began to trick(her specialty)...
"Silence", she matched Penny's objection
and also her Va. Gina Monologue Kung Fu.
As she drug it out slowly like the movie Alien.
Whoopies unneeded I.U.D. was actually an I.E.D.
"In 3 minutes this place and all of you are gonna
go sky high to meet your Lord in the Air !"
Penney got confirmation by snickering, "3 minutes?
I could do... nevermind !"
She began to pack a suitcase slowly after making herself a sandwich, taking the things she thought were pretty.
When she had made her way to the front door, she adjusted the blinds and feng shui of the room.
The others followed, mainly because she was
a good shopper and a beautiful prostitute.
Michael couldn't even speak, he was so angry
at RufePal not bringing the gun and now
Whoopie sets the bomb for 'leave
at your convenience' !
She it them backhanded Whoopie and took t
he explosive from her with a handkerchief
and began to run after them...
Form:
And I quote "You're so well spoken; I loved your story" end quote
I hear that once about every other week at the current rate
But what I really wanted to say in response was: oh, you mean for a black person?
Or do you imply that my particular vernacular, and painted linguistics shocked your ears
Because your prefrontal cortex judged my baggy clothes, durag, and tattoos would talk like every tv show that needs a black thug…I’m sorry I meant to say African American
It's 2024 and for some reason any person of color still needs permission to better themselves
Last time I checked wanting more was normal not privilege
But I guess your watch has arms that hang opinions not people so it's ok because it's not the same
So just because the shadow is smaller it isn't as dark
That was some of my flooding thoughts that was closed by the dam of a simple: thank you
But what I really wanted to say came in the form of a question
What did you like about what I said,
Awkward pauses rush in and flood silence because it never gets a chance to speak
Awkward pauses that communicate they really just wanted to pay their dues in the form of a backhanded small talk compliment
Awkward pauses I'm way to familiar with so I recline in the anxiety yelling in the microphone
They desperately reach for words running away
Trying to pick up their dignity with a well what I meant to say,
I reply with that's ok and walk into another Thursday
Life goes on and unforgiveness repeats so forgive me if I choose to look out for myself and simply skip the small talk
I have big dreams and I’m trying to be in the atmosphere of those matching that impossible energy
p.s. pay attention with your heart not your ears please…
Privately educated, privileged backgrounds .……no problem per se …….…but ......we're led by these plum in mouth toffs by the troughful.…... their snouts in the pockets of the electorate, creaming the real workers of cash for taxes .…....so long as they're okay with backhanded deals and offshore accounts, their empathy remains as real as a cuboid moon.
Distrustful dinosaurs with prehistoric rhetoric....... and arrogance beyond belief .......they give the people grief. Arguably their role is to be unpopular..... no reflection of the real people, no microcosm, no cross section, no true representation of us compounds their ability to irritate.
This is politics in full swing, full of stuck up d*cks and silly twerps in tailored shirts telling us how to vote. When can this change to a real democracy? ........Real parties talking real issues with real solutions with real taxes spent on real things. The equilibrium is unbalanced, the donkey jacket came and went ......now we're left with just the donkeys, more mules to carry the weight of their own egos.
We have the right to vote.....we pride ourselves on this democratic right...but this is looking through the rose tints.….I only have the ability to vote for different shades of beige....unless I want to become a part of an extremist, sensationalist mob.….I don't.... I just want a real choice of real people..….so for now my ballot card will remain a useful piece of cardboard.... to fold and prop up the wonky leg on my dining room table.
"Dream Bug"
Hour glass
rainbows sparkling
crystal grainy rapids
sliding intrepidly through life’s fingers
their coloured sands speak in tones
they are obtuse and vapid
like snowflakes they fall
confetti on my hands
Writing you
between there
and here again
a feckless court jester
fearless sometimes
walking handstands
painting portraits
in pedantic rhyme
then a page stained,
you're thumb-licked and turning
metaphors gliding ghosting
a snail trail planchette
words miss spelled
they are moulting
like white feathers from cooing doves
we are back in grades of one
singled out on school parade
while the band plays on
we are all caught
like grounded gefilte fish in class
when the saints
go marching in
we’re stopped
for covert mingling
In the office a Nosferatu principal
ignores the grief
behind his two spectacles
two sets of hands are requested straight
knuckles down and held out
the bamboo cane
coaxed no passing
secrets out,
automata face
scream time put on delay
the clock to midnight
on his crypt's wall, hidden
strikes still a braille mind
doesn't once drop the ball
it smiles ruthfully
dialling up the forbidden
chemistry of tears,
a juxtoposition
from the internal well
My opal sky suspended
heaving dreams falling slow mo
through foggy clouds
are breathed in like lavender rain
antiseptic are all
our polished stories
rehearsed repetitively
then delayed and side courted
tennis left hand
lucid inarticulate
backhanded
Love all
candy hearted
is a fresh game
pulled swiftly
from a side pocket
refuting singing flutes
whistling and caressed
by a tongue flirtatiously wetting lips
a regular, pulsating change of pitch
a romantic vibrato
recalled
he calls me
a witch
Scent of a woman
once je t'adore
now her true essence leaking
their personalities mirror switched
bloodied and cut
pieces of peace
stolen by a foolish matador
she’s holding open the exit door
Dream Bug
walks across a
marked and sullied page
lines bleeding right
Melting
dissolved
to the far corner
lid sealed
in a glass jar
left-brained
Dream Bug
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Vampires and Mosquitos, they’re both out for blood each in their own way, one sucks the life out of you and the other just wants a taste
But when it pertains to love there is a big difference between the two, you my love were like the vampire but a little like the mosquito too
You swooped in unknowingly and you hurt me in subtle ways, claiming that it was all an accident knowing that I would stay
Just a nip here and there just enough to quinch your thirst, you didn’t care about my feelings just as long as you got your worth
And after I had been nipped at in places that were hard to see, the wound would be forgotten just an afterthought wrapped up in a backhanded apology
And your spittle it would consume into my skin, and collate with the others that you had tasted mingling together telling a story of where your lips had been
Just like the mosquito after your bite you saunter away, and leave me with the reminder that you had your taste
But in other ways you’re much darker and more ravenous it does seem, the way that you can suck the soul right out of me when you press your lips against me
You want to feed on me, you thirst for my love that flows within, and you have no thought of my needs you have shown me this time and again
As long as you are sated and you’re bloodthirsty no more, than you walk away as always leaving my corpse there on the hard, cold floor
Only returning when the darkness settles in, you come calling upon me like the chill that responds to your skin
There you search my lifeless eyes just begging for one last taste, awaiting my awakening whereas you have sealed my fate
I don’t wish to be anything like you I am not out for blood, I don’t wish for just a nip or a taste here and there I want eternal love.
Backhanded Apology
Copyright © L MILTON HANKINS | Year Posted 2022
Sorry if I upset you,
I really didn’t mean it
Actually, I meant it
Until I saw it upset you,
Now I’m sorry you are
Upset by my words
But I got them said,
Which I intended to do.
L. Milton always impressed me with his sly humor amidst mostly very deep, spiritual thoughts. “Backhanded Apology” is one of his well-read pieces at 742 views. This apology is perfect for a very public person who is subject to personal remarks which could be double entendre at the outset. Milt was a fine person, likewise an excellent poet whose comments on my work were always positive and supportive. A Kentucky bluegrass native myself, I applaud his choice of retirement residency in Ashland; it is close to his roots in WV. We will all miss him at Poetry Soup.
January 3, 2023
THE MONSTER YOU DREAD
i can’t handle rejection,
the unhug of perfection.
a piercing scream of perplexion —
my complexion streaked
grouted and piqued.
i backhanded you by
closing the splintered door,
vainglorious to the core —
now you can’t see the open sore.
you never uncovered, never looked,
never came to find me, i’m overlooked.
hiding beneath the bed, i’m the monster
you dread — tear-salted tongue, the martyr
with claws tearing at my skin - my fear
that she sips her coffee carelessly - oh dear...
the suicidal stripes down my cheeks sear
as my mother wanders through her year.
if only a look, a hug, a kind word spoken
to me would tear me from this sea forsaken —
this torrent, harangue of waves, haplessly
dashing, against heart and soul. if only a creak,
a scintilla of light would peek into
my claustrophobic space, saving me from me.
but i, only i...must resolve, unhinge the lock,
step out and see the clearing of the crock...
all alone on my private island - its unsecured dock.
i pretend it never mattered but carry the doom
within my flesh, my invisible childhood looms.
ready at turn to rear its misshapen head, its claws
digging into a buried past — all my flaws...
jealousy pops up in the middle of my joy
i stomp the frenetic beast, clawing its face.
i refuse to be that monster, that disgrace!
6/14/2019
Move me Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux