Long Castigate Poems
Long Castigate Poems. Below are the most popular long Castigate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Castigate poems by poem length and keyword.
Though Time is something we've devised,
Time's hold on us can't be revised.
While Time has time to spend at will,
We question Time when we distill
It into time spent ill or well.
It's just perception - time will tell.
Time can play games within our head,
It's Time we love - and Time we dread.
Time gives us time to think things through,
What to reject - what to pursue.
And, timeliness keeps Time involved -
Sufficient time gets things resolved.
True, Time can grant a host of things -
Good times that well-timed planning brings.
And, timely words - remember when?
Just simple truths, time and again.
Time can expand our views to see
The benefits of what might be.
But, Time can proffer problems too -
With time to kill what should we do?
Time can befriend untimely ways
That dissipate our time-bound days.
Yet, Time won't dwell on what we chose,
Time ventures on - not in repose.
When Time slips by, or fails to wait,
It's Time we tend to castigate.
Despite the time we set aside
Time only serves to be our guide.
Still, Time can help us do our share
As Time goes by with time to spare.
But, Time moves on at its own rate
Unmoved by time to contemplate.
If we take time to stop and look,
Time travels past the time we took.
Yes, Time is always on the run -
Time won't stand still - for anyone.
A giver also lack
The rain don't rain all the time
The days are not always bright
Despite the sea never dry
Yet troubles never end
So dont cast me out
If I can't show you love
Remember
The rain don't fall all the time
Sometimes my roof is dry
Sometimes my pocket are fewer
Sometimes I can't manage to give
the way you suppose
Sometimes
A giver also lack
A giver also lack
You castigate me cos you feel
Am poor
Thinking that life has knock me off my track
You lost respect cos of money
Bad things are good sometimes
Cos when the going goes tough
Then you can see who is really
A true friend
The wise say true friend are precious
They are a gift to humanity
With this hard times I realized this
Words are true
It not fair to realize how
You can lose the ones you love
Cos they choose benefits over you
Why I Love Writing Poetry?
Did I mean why I love writing poems?
Nevertheless, I love writing poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, make others happy,
Inspire and defend others; to fan the flames
Of fairness, and to seek justice, fairness for the weak,
The innocents, the underprivileged, and the sick;
I can go on and on until I lose consciousness.
I love expressing myself with elegance and neatness.
Ordinary jerks always make fun of the Poets, that's not new;
And the Poets know darn well how to take care of them too.
Poets have thick skin; they are Heroes without fears.
They struggle, fight, write, raise hell and wipe their tears.
Sorry, if I am going astray, that's what I do best,
Sometimes, like any human being, I like to make a mess.
That's why I love writing essays, poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, and to make others happy.
At the same time, I want others to criticize, and castigate.
I make my own decisions, and can determine my own fate.
Poets have thick skin, and by nature have no fears.
Please swallow your frown, your smile, and wipe your tears.
Hebert Logerie Monday, January 26, 2015
I Adamantly Refuse to Care or Show Concern,
After All
I Served Sincerely and Genuinely, Now I Sever
Hoaxed Mundane Emotions that No Longer Appeal to My Growth
Flippantly Burning Icy Bridges
This is More or Less What You Think
Even More that Spilled Ink!
Pages Stained With Expressions of Clustered Ink Lichens
For I am Sole Custodian of My Emotions
Strolling Flamboyantly Through the Emporium of Memories
Some Insipid, Some Cherished, All Purged for Space
For This is More or Less What You Think
Even More Than Ink!
I Castigate in Order to Reciprocate by means of Detachment
Sharply Dismembering Familial Ties
For I Rather Drown in Water than Blood
My Behavior And Actions May or May not Appear Imprimatur
Shunned Mundane Conformities, Autonomous One
More or Less what You Think
Expressing Choreographed Ink!
Most are Unable or Unwilling to Embrace Their Shadow
A Glimpse In the Mirror Shrouds The True Reflection
My Response is Isolation
Because My Energy is Mines to do As I Please
Such are Normal or Reactive to Both Inner and Outer Influences
I Shall not Partake In Friendly Bantering Where Venomous Strife Once Proceeded!
My Silence is A Science Blaring In Ink
More or Less!
6 years ago, I wrote limericks about 5 PS poets. Today, I've posted
about another 5 and will continue to add more... before 6 years.
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So, I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there is the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
The new additions...
Like a brother he comes to my defense
This man wears no guise and has no pretense
Mark Koplin, misunderstood
A modern-day Robin Hood
To me he shines with rays of effulgence
There's a man who took me under his wing
Says what he thinks. Doesn't hold back a thing
Danny Turner, my friend
A helping hand he'll lend
For offering kind words, he's a wellspring
David Kavanagh, true friend from the start
Encouraging advice, he does impart
Throws Monoku lines like spears
I raise a glass to him ~ cheers!
Loyal, his word. A man with a good heart
Canadian, Vaso, we don't see oft
Art doesn't come across as being soft
But has a tender heart
For countries torn apart
His poetic words should never be scoffed
His funny thoughts overflow in a Flood
Terry writes humor that's never a dud
Risque, and sometimes not
His stories have a plot
Rumor has it that he's known as 'The Stud'
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,
but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.
You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.
You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.
With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely persuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.
poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.
literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.
To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.
— Zumwalt (2011) (used by permission from zumpoems.com)
me, you and all of us, are sparks of His brightness,
a brief moment for him- but for us an age,
a breath for Him, an eternity for us!
a speck in his creation in the vastness of boundless,
but giants in our ego stride!
our life, one amongst his many,
but trapped in tiny ignorance of self.
self that feels higher than others,
but a blip in time - now and gone!
elements that recycle from life to death,
only to spend eternity without life form!
find reasons to hate when given utterance,
how foolish the day we are born!
no religion for trees, birds or beasts,
but why this shackle thrown upon?
Lies about heaven and hell,
one of many ways truth we misspell,
who cares for religion when we are gone?
Religion is an invention of devious minds,
for no Prophet ever taught a religion,
only the path we should tread on,
we stamped their words in to books,
created divisions to rule upon!
He rules with love,
we rule through fear,
He rules by forgiveness,
we castigate and punish!
a glorious world we inherited,
but have made a slaughter ground of it all!!
what have we done with our beautiful minds?
Minds where His divine thoughts shine…..
we have blinded that mind with darkness,
in the black paint of religious opine!!
Written 15/05/2021
Religion or Spirituality poetry contest
Unseeking Seeker sponsored
Inadequate sleep ex(spells) volatile mental state
Existential crisis ensued,
hence the following
I attempt to relate
forewarning the missus,
who heard bellicose me loud and clear
excoriate, deprecate, communicate
callously, blisteringly, angrily... expostulate
refrain awakening this sleeping spouse
yours truly unapologetically will berate
forgetting self promise
vowing never to castigate,
yet flush with red hot poker rage
out nostrils steam doth emanate
analogously soused madman
ranting and raving
seething venomous, obstreperous,
iniquitous, ferocious... hate.
Violent monstrous, horrendous,
atrocious... beastie boy awoke
reconciliation with goo goo doll broke
bitter bile doth choke
experiencing helplessly shape shifting,
whereby one fell stroke
witnesses emergent Mister Hyde
frighteningly evil doppelgänger doth cloak
easy going, mild manner Doctor Jekyll
former incarnation, where vitriol spoke
housed said baneful nightmarish spirit
killed latter personality
without so much as "ribbit" he did croak.
Back far as I can remember
best not disturb
akin to sleeping bear
wrath nobody can curb
once roused not unlike Croat Serb
War of Independence fought
from 1991 to 1995
decades long smoldering resentment
series of unfortunate events did perturb
between Croat forces loyal
to the government
of Croatia, which declared independence
impossible mission to summarize,
within couple lines
comprising poetic blurb
disintegrating Socialist Federal
Republic of Yugoslavia.
One look no further
than Greek mythology,
where said classical civilization
incorporated elaborate building blocks
to explain human
nature as well docks
side of the moon,
particularly the seven deadliest sins
unleashed out Pandora's box
I suppose more diabolical
than high school jocks,
whereby yours truly
convenient sacrificial "scapegoat"
after effects still reverberate
like chicken pox
scarred psyche, no matter
still recollect rocks
thrown at Boxer/ Dalmation
Georgie by the Daily's
when family lived
on Lantern Lane.
Seedier media’s spewed a lot of late
Crude is all about lewd Bazball’s fate
Ben eschewed then stewed had to wait
On Stokes & ECB feud did concentrate
A tomfoolery catapult at a summer fete
Deranged but change won’t contemplate
Glummer fans can berate but no debate
Won’t halt dumber all out assault template
Fawn this new dawn to thrill will facilitate
Once did reinvigorate now does agitate
Ban this bland brand just a T20 ingratiate
Test tragics thirst perverse curse won’t sate
Hiss Brook took the piss & will aggravate
Ben we no longer trust and must castigate
When he then lost his zen & did denigrate
His men & all the plaudits he did generate
As Test cricket’s saviour we didn’t hesitate
Defending best sort of our sport appreciate
Stopping unwise franchise rise we participate
Tests out of date follow a reprobate mandate
Cogitate let's all just trust Bazball & meditate
New chapter couldn't create must abbreviate
Lust did rust so deviate to your ego capitulate
Ben did abrogate before he then did abdicate
You bled said in red Tests would emancipate
New autobiography a publisher did ingratiate
Was a helluva scheme to your team castrate
Then on Test cricket you literally did defecate
From embers lets remember when did venerate
Rule of cool cats & sexy sultry strut of their gait
We did anticipate how they did titillate & titivate
In the thrall of the gall as Bazball did captivate
Is this the future of Test cricket we did ruminate
Rid of Covid new bid to stop the skid scintillate
Calling card is freeing the old guard to salivate
Enjoy the game again as wins did demonstrate
The swagger turned to stagger did defenestrate
Of course horse bolted.. before closed the gate
We’re entertainers the reason they did extenuate
Facts and their foolhardy acts will still repudiate
Our chagrin as on seriously thin ice they do skate
The plain disdain for the WTC did really infuriate
England is in such a state has enough on its plate
From the ruins nothing to excavate as we excoriate
But blunder here and down under won't exonerate
Uncouth truth can’t be hid from livid fans who hate
Bazball gesticulate just a cheap buzz like amyl nitrate
Helplessness immobilizes yours truly,
I genuinely agitate
permanently lasting indelible impact deux
biological offspring unfairly bore brunt,
compliantly, complicity, and complimentary
I avidly, doggedly, instinctively helped create
subsequently, unintentionally, or willingly
unpleasantly affected as adults facilitate
learned behaviors to navigate
their respective independent lives
both managed to coordinate
transitioning as responsible adults
more successful than me -
I do congratulate
their separate feats, titillate
papa, who admires emotional growth,
though grievously despair
weaknesses invariably did inculcate
their once innocent selves did graduate
courtesy positive resources I dedicate
to other then myself, commiserate
as unwittingly tortured saturate
without knowing and implicate
thine guilty poor role model,
me - heartache afflicted with anguish,
especially younger offspring doth indicate
perhaps apathy, difficulty, paucity to equate
body/mind synergy, she doth habituate
herself with destructive behavior,
vicariously saddening me psyche
where alarm doth germinate
yet... particular influences I
awkwardly essentially, and
inadvertently now articulate
unsure if word choice (mine)
obscures soulful heartfelt
angst that doth resonate
oft time does afflict my existence
thousands of miles distant,
nonetheless doth percolate
reckon, reflect,
and reiterate pointlessly berate
to nobody in particular -
minus followers courtesy
various and sundry
digital poetry venues articulate
and doth interrogate,
fulminate, and futilely castigate
himself psychologically damaged goods
paternal legacy, their salad days
hoop fully mushrooming into great
and healthy women, where
every last trace of my
objectionable faults they eradicate,
cuz Shana thee mean more
than fine spun gold!