Long Berate Poems
Long Berate Poems. Below are the most popular long Berate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Berate poems by poem length and keyword.
I feel like an antiquity
some relic from the past
crumbling at the edges
eroded over time
aging has arrived
There are fissures in my proud steel plated armor
once invincible
reality is bringing with it a heavy blow
it creeps upon you
like a stealth thief in the night
now you berate yourself
for being caught unaware
new words slip into your vocabulary
things like “possible stroke”
a litany of tests are conducted
let’s begin with a blood test
maybe a urine sample
we can schedule an MRI
is this a heart attack
there is a CAT or CT scan as it is known
what about the C word, cancer
let’s do an ultrasound
ff that doesn’t find it there is always
an endoscopy or colonoscopy complete with biopsy
the realization that life’s destiny is prevailing
is the end nigh
the relic you have become
looking at you in the mirror of life
Andreas Simic©
A rose, in the hands of God, lays her fate
As Summer exhales its fury and dries its rain
Those are Nature creed, just obey and not berate
God's wisdom, vain minds couldn't debate.
Pains that affect the heart, we do feel once
As deep they might dig, the pleasure is immense
Time when slow to meet a wish, the ache intense
God's wisdom, vain minds couldn't make sense.
A rhymer lays bare the fine music of verse
Mother nature would fill a heart and wounds nurse
Uphold Beauty and in the wonders of Poetry the soul immerse
Wisdom, in a blessed heart, God would disperse.
What of rarity, the words could not meet
Who dares, of humanity, delete a heartbeat!
Love and peace, a Poet's ever tweet
Wisdom from the Almighty God, a huge treat.
The swings you go through with a child
Are not unlike a coaster wild.
The terror, stark, when they arrive:
“How do I keep this kid alive?”
“What idiot allowed discharge,
And placed with me a care so large?”
When you have lost all hope of sleep,
And dark depression settles deep,
Then you will wonder in despair,
“How long, O Lord, too much to bear!”
But then, when first she smiles at you,
And suddenly dawn’s light breaks through!
Until the day you feed her meats
And gagging, retching, white as sheets,
You’re sorely pressed by toxic waste,
And all that fondness fades, erased
By thoughts you banish from your mind,
“How could I ever been so blind
To think this nasty little brute
Was a delight, a darling, cute?”
But then she talks, she says your name;
You’re launching to the moon again!
This surely is the pinnacle,
Parental heights you’ve scaled in full.
But comes the dark night of the soul;
Your daughter’s now thirteen years old.
Who is this alien life form?
When will your days resemble norm?
The slightest thing; all hell breaks loose:
A train that’s led by its caboose!
Back on the tracks, to wreck again,
Of late, you pray, “Why, God?” and “When,
When will this horrid phase be through?”
Completely unbeknownst to you,
This phase, designed, the needed fuel
To send her, gladly, off to school.
And then you sit, an empty home,
Berate yourself in brooding gloam
As night falls on parental days
And you imagine all the ways
that trouble will befall your child,
How by the world she’ll be defiled
And grieve and want her in your arms
In safe protection from all harm.
And after school, she needs you less
Until it’s time to buy the dress.
For her, elation and much joy!
For you, “And just who is this boy?”
But as you learn, she’s picked a man,
All goes according to the plan,
And you have this to comfort you,
For it is clear he loves her too.
So for a time, you are at peace;
The cycling has much decreased.
And yet, when they have fully grown,
Then suddenly you want them home.
You yearn for time spent with their kids
At intervals the miles forbid.
And if you’re being honest, too,
You’re hoping they’ll take care of you.
But looking back, it’s all a win;
You’d gladly take this ride again.
A lie told of a lover past,
went off in you like a mortar blast.
It was brief,
and before I knew you,
but you'd never see that like most people do.
Though he never posed a threat, it put me forever in your debt.
The debt to pay, not monetary.
It broke me down psychologically.
Accusations came from deep in the blue.
You'd say, "I can never trust in you".
Though I know it was unfounded, I believed it was my fault.
It was something I did
that gave you the liberty
to mercilessly berate and torment me.
To watch me give, bend, break, and prove,
and I did it all
because I loved you.
But when it got too much to take,
I'd shut down and pull away.
So then you'd bathe me in love and adoration,
talk of a family, a future,
show patience.
You'd act like it would all get better, but then you'd slip
and start spitting venom.
Your eyes would darken and hone in on me,
and I would sit there anxiously.
For I always knew what would come next,
you'd rip my heart right from my chest.
You'd tell me I was low caliber,
used up, pathetic
not as good as "her".
The onslaught would last until you ran out of steam,
then you'd wake up so differently.
The color returning to your eyes, you'd act with remorse,
sometimes you cried.
So, I would forgive.
It's the way of my heart.
The ticking clock would again, restart.
I watched you lie and smear my name.
Harming me, the goal of your twisted game.
You never spoke the honest truth, knowing the finger would point at you.
Your past of jealousy, abuse, and damage
had grown too vast for you to manage.
The warnings came, but I ignored them, convinced you were a different man.
But the isolation had crept in,
slowly withdrawing from my kin.
I was spinning fast out of control, nothing solid to have or hold.
Then you'd come back and show me love,
and I would believe it was enough.
Stuck in a bond so traumatized,
That leaving made me feel I'd die.
There's a monster that lurks behind your smile,
diabolical, cruel, easy to rile.
Caught in your crosshairs, I couldn't see
that loving you was killing me.
Usefulness is only deemed by someone who needs it
You made me feel useful
For once in my life, I meant something to someone
Whether that was using me or not, I don’t care
You seem happy with him; I wish I were him
Right person wrong time, didn’t know love was our antonym
Tell me what you despise, or don't, it might lead me to my demise
How could you hate me, do nothing but berate me
Falling doesn't seem so bad when you have someone falling with you too
Finding solitude in similarity, a common ground of misfortune
There are no other words I can think to say
I love you
I miss you
I hate what you did to me
I don't understand why you did
I’ll never get an answer for any of those questions
The next best thing I can do is assume your intentions
I’d make up a fourth law of motion
To give you the whole ocean
Because blue is your favourite colour
I’d grab you a handful of the constellation
Even if you saw it as a measly donation
You deserve the world, as I’ve said before
That world doesn't need to include me, an afterthought will do
Dear Folks: Here I am at beautiful Fort Fumble, Louisiana.
I sure wish I was back on the farm in Bean Blossom, Indiana.
Already I've learned the army pastime of "hurry up and wait!"
And that sergeants ain't very nice - they just love to berate.
Sergeants met us at the train depot and herded us on a truck.
They dumped us at what's called a mess for good old army chuck.
I stared in disbelief at the stuff they slopped upon my tray.
It was called chipped beef and gravy - it was all greasy and gray!
They marched us to the supply place and issued our army suits;
A gun, helmet, drawers, socks and couple of pairs of boots.
I struggled with all that stuff packed upon my weary back,
To a lovely new residence, a flimsy tar-papered shack.
I was told how to hang my clothes and fold my boxer drawers;
The proper way to roll my socks and other silly army chores.
They told me how to make up my cot - the blanket must be taut.
A quarter must bounce off of it or your effort is for naught.
Mom, I sure need you to fix my grub and make up my cot.
Pop, I miss plowing corn behind the mules on the forty-acre plot.
I better get to sleep so tomorrow I can earn my meager dough.
Tell Uncle Clyde it ain't like he said it'd be. Your loving son, Roscoe.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I beg of guilt to riddance my sin,
sincerity mixed pleasure of call deep within.
My mind of haze to idea once preformed,
mascot contribution to my theatrics well formed.
Beauty and a beast to a sickening desire,
my body fuelled with pain from my minds deep transpire.
Berate of my complexion, fabrication and hope,
sacrifice my solitude with hopes of being cleansed deeper than soap.
Cremation from the burning of wait does bring forth,
my stature destined to the mirror now morph.
Soul, hand of pasture ,and faith in the god once named,
all placed in pieces of a figure left to blame.
Waiting on a miracle to work to good deed,
hoof of purest lamb now sentenced to breed.
Thorn and thistle cursed to beauty of rose,
man’s fortune to women with a price of propose.
System segregation from the people born truth,
turn to natures sin in purpose of youth.
Belief met bravery in hand of defeat,
rush to the opening of a church in large fleet.
Memory reconcile with death fortune placed,
sanction granted to power in need of erase.
Intelligence fought sympathy in the war of troubled mind,
am I useless without leadership if my demise meet unkind?
Body built to the soil cursed by I man,
colonies trapped in brutality of gods plan.
Beggar, theif, and humanity at hand,
Are criminals to be punished if future lie in the sand?
Is truth upon belief of a system unpredicted,
the structure a temple yet torture left unrestricted.
Mind place of memory to the mistreatings underway,
if I hold power to speak why should boundaries get a say?
Free speech is a right in the rule book of law,
however issue runs deep with dictatorship to core.
Does a cry of babe not rustle in your mind?
A predator to be freed yet a crook to be fined.
A god of justice is spoken in scripture,
but thy neighbour is thought on suspicion, never close to a sister. Harmony sung in words comprise,
dealings from the devil while society treat to infantilise.
If a body is a right to the owners spoken truth,
why should societal exception meet way to the youth?
For a pasture, a priest, or a saint of country name,
would allow such action to ignight as if flame.
Then action should compromise the wrongdoing upon mass,
the power of performative government is as fragile as glass.
There’s no decorum or respect
Within the White House walls
And cameras let us witness
Some behavior that appalls.
Invite a foreign dignitary
Then berate, insult, accuse –
That’s the playbook for a bully
Desperate to be in the news.
Why would any other country,
After seeing that display,
Send a leader, knowing he or she’d
Be treated in that way?
Every day brings more examples
Of outrageousness and shock
Which, at one time, simply seemed like
Acts of bluster we would mock.
But the stakes have gotten higher
And if all the guardrails fail,
Someday writing such a poem just might
Have me end up in jail.
Save the little Piglets
Save the little Piglets, save them from the knife,
Piglets are so precious and have a right to life.
Pigs are not potatoes, should not be grown for feast,
If intention is simply kill, do not breed the beast.
Lambs to the slaughter, Lambs to the table,
See them play in meadows, at least whilst they’re able.
Lambs are not Barley, do not nurture for repast,
Alternate farming can thrive, I am no Iconoclast.
To kill a Calf for Veal is repellent and pitiless,
They are no use for dairy, so the Male we cannot bless.
Calves are not Corn, nor a delicacy on your plate,
Force fed for five months, then butchered I berate.
Save the baby chicks, fluffy and overtly cute,
Born for just one purpose, barbarism, can you refute,
Chicks are not Wheat, nor just another roasted bird,
Though my objections I make clear,
I’m a minority, marginal, not listened too or heard.
KS 25.6.18
She was forced to live a life that was never her own
trapped in this body and reduced to a wraith
lost and ridiculed, abandoned in a world unknown
far from home with only a trace left of her faith
looking for answers, she sits down in a church pew
so many, pass judgement with looks that condemn
do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?
Is she an abomination? Do you not love her like you love them?
Why do so many, feel entitled and have to hate?
Did you not create and die for us all?
Why can’t we just show love and not berate?
Please give this girl strength, and don’t let her fall
we all have free will and choose how we treat each other
my door is always open and I will do my part
I accept this child for who she is, for I am her brother
She has my unconditional love straight from the heart
December 19,2020
A Rhyme Story-Poem With Eyes On Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose