Long Chiding Poems
Long Chiding Poems. Below are the most popular long Chiding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chiding poems by poem length and keyword.
One of my biggest pet peeves in the world
When I was in sixth grade was that Mrs. Tuttle
allowed Danny Kridelcome to shout out answers
But if I did it she chopped off my head with a machete.
If I become a teacher I vowed, I will never do that.
Danny would give me a look of pure “haha” before he shouted
Knowing I would also shout, and I would be duly lambasted.
This was 1966, when a student did not challenge a teacher.
Day after day Danny and I would blurt out the answer.
And day after day I would get sliced and diced,
while he received praise. A world where girls do not shout out.
I was a rebel; I could not stop, so did not.
One day when I was teaching a fourth grade class I realized
For the first time that I was letting the boys shout out,
So glad they were participating, but when the girls did it
I was FURIOUS and I was chiding, and shaming them
Because the girls ALWAYS answered.
I tried to go back into my mind to try and remember
how long I had been doing it.
Thankfully my memory failed me,
reducing my shame at my own prejudice.
Little girl in a rainbow jumper runs to hide
And seek. Lifting hands to cover her face
As soon as she finds the right tree
And thinking she's hid in what is plain sight
Shouts 'ready!', with one two and three.
'I'm coming!' he says,
Looking blindly her way
As he searches about
So she won't be found out
But the girl cannot wait for a shout
Of 'surprise!' as she lowers her hands
From her tightly shut eyes
To say 'here I am!' with delight
Unrestrained at her father's 'haha!',
And his feined 'there you are!',
While embracing his beautiful prize.
This dear little madam, an Eve of her Adam
Is naked and knowing no shame.
Not long to her hiding, her fear and self-chiding,
When heaven calls for her by name.
Then fearing the garden, not knowing her pardon
She'll hide from her Father in pain.
'Twas the night before Christmas at the North Pole.
Santa paced to and fro contemplating his role.
Things were in disarray and Mz Claus was on his case,
Chiding him about working just one day a year was a disgrace!
He'd been doing his routine for two-hundred years or so,
And wanted to retire to the South Pole and take it slow!
His reindeer were getting old and fat and slowing down,
Especially Rudolph, the red-nosed one, of world renown!
The shafts and runners on his sleigh needed much repair.
Dealing with his slothful elves left him in deep despair!
They went on strike and there were few toys on the shelves.
Kids might have to go to Walmart for toys, fending for themselves!
He tired of kids peeing on his lap during whimpering interviews,
And getting stuck and rumpling his suit in all those sooty flues!
He was getting fed up with the usual snacks of cookies and milk;
Santa much preferred salami and cheese or something of that ilk.
Due to climate change, the Pole was thawing, adding to his woes.
All too soon his whole operation could be afloat on Arctic floes!
But despite his problems Santa saddled his cranky but faithful deer,
Determined to visit each girl and boy to deliver joy and good cheer!
Entry for Joseph May's "The Night Before" Contest
(22 November 2019)
Placed No. 3 in the contest
I opened my heart, as a bud in bloom
A fragile flower, gently held in his arms
I welcomed the warmth of his touch
He was my morning dew, slaked my thirst
and sated my hunger for love.
His words were whispered in my ear.
But now, his utterances rip my petals apart
Cruel inflictions play havoc on my soul,
His language hurls daggers at my heart
I'm tortured and tormented with toxic chiding
His voice is venom from the fangs of a snake,
leaving puncture wounds, dripping with blood.
His angry words strip me bare of dignity
With each flay of his tongue, I am whipped
I'm withering like a clipped rose,
exposed to a scourge of abusive speech
What ails my heart leaves no bodily scars
I need benediction to heal my wounds
but I know the answer to my prayers
will never come from his cursed lips
And although it's not easy to forgive him,
I do because I am guilty of self-infliction.
The love I have for him is an addiction,
and for this weakness, I suffer the pain
of allowing his words to pummel my heart
again and again
August 10th, 2020
Inflictions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Lurid looks have been thrown at me
Deadly daggers sent to pierce my heart
Why do some insist on acting beastly
waging war in attempts to tear me apart?
How long can I go on pretending I'm not in pain
hiding my tears by calling them emotional rain?
I need compassion but I'm afraid to ask
so, I conceal my trauma behind a face mask
There's an art that some have honed,
weapons sharpened to break my bones
Not the kind of childish chiding of 'sticks and stones,'
but those spoken with bitterness and taunting
The kind that fires torpedoes from torrid tongues
flaunting their ire and desire to wound me in a fight
with words that shatter like shrapnel in flight
A flame throwing pen, firing splotches of ink
to pierce my skin, tattooing me with their brand
Mark me as 'prey,' shooting as if in reprimand
Just enough to keep me flinching... not quite dead
They laugh it off, calling it 'friendly fire'
No excuse accepted from those who conspire
No burning steel rod can cauterize my wounds
I cannot anesthetize the festering gashes
A sharp-bladed tongue bites much too deep,
making my blood flow in repeated clashes
No mere prick or scratch do they inflict
as thorns draw drops from a finger opened bare...
foul words end relationships with a bullet's nick
I still breathe and I've no fear to speak
I've been set free, and no longer weak
My tongue holds daggers of its own
and it's been whetted on a grindstone
I hungered for strength and parched with thirst
to take vengeance as my anger grew
Emotions boiled that were long past due
but felling them would label me a wrong doer
which is something I never want to be
Vengeance will never be mine to take
realizing that is what set me free
Emotionally, I was a casualty, a tragic story
about pens and mouths becoming an allegory
Symbols used as extended metaphors
But why is it I was being targeted in wars
by Gollums and Freddies, and evil Chuckies?
Shrapnel lodged in the heart leaves jagged scars
The faithful sun rose in the eastern sky
Slowly over the swamp and the mist on the water
Bringing the breeze that whispers through the cattails
And the dew-covered grass…
The sound of wing-slapped water as geese rise in flight
They call out with a symphony of voices
Welcoming the morning
Everywhere I look is teeming with life
Beauty
And Solitude…
The cry of the red-tailed hawk
The chiding crows
The heron stalking its prey…
Everything I see overwhelms me
Until it wells up in my eyes with gratitude
Until it fills my heart with hope…
You must look if you hope to see
Listen if you hope to hear
Sit in silence if you hope to understand
Empty yourself if you would be filled…
To be bathed in the landscape of Grace
Where your truth awaits
As one with all creation…
All of this birthed in me
As the essence of the Love of God
All things seen and unseen
As the sun bursts into my being…
Until the very light I sought to see
Blinds me with its brilliance
Transforming with mercy
Uniting me with its fragile beauty…
The preciousness of this fleeting moment
Shines in the reflections of the morning sun
On the surface of my soul…
I bow my heart before the artist!
The Girl I'm Infatuated With
The girl I am infatuated with
Tells her friends that she ignores my advances.
This flirtatious game she finds dismissive
Still, I stay the course and remain focused.
When I approach or pass her by, she stops
And acts neutral as if I didn’t exist.
Though disheartening, I calmly nod,
Like I’m thick-skinned and do not feel the sting.
For reasons I cannot explain clearly,
Her negative response is challenging.
And so I pursue my heartfelt desire,
Despite the laughter and chiding from her friends.
Love is a paradox that has limits.
Fear rejection—then live to regret it.
Along the serpentine trail, thunder
Sounds forth from beneath my feet.
All of the creatures that squiggle and squirm,
Retreat at the coming of my approach.
The waves on the lake open their mouths.
They strike each other in an intricate cacophony.
They speak to me in whispers.
I am moved by the hush of their serenade.
All around are the trees.
The wind blows and they laugh at me.
Before me is the corridor of disdainful grins,
As I walk they spew their insults and derisions.
Though, their chiding is a source of agony,
the shine on their grin gives me pleasure.
I choose to take pleasure in their shade,
as I continue my blasphemous trudging.
At the end of the path lies the serpent’s head.
There in the meadow of my ecstasy,
Is a pair of snake eyes,
winking at me in this place that I love.
Children dashing and laughing throughout the mess.
Moms and dads trying not to throw away toys
As they gather up scads of shredded Christmas wrapping
Grandmas begging them to keep the bows.
Blinking twinkling Christmas tree looking less magical,
Appears shabbier in the morning than it did last night
Boys with swords having a dual, chasing each other.
One nervous grandma mentioning the danger.
Granddads sleeping in their recliners, not hearing any of it
Someone yelling “That is your last Christmas cookie!”
Her sisters chiding her, making fun, hugging her.
Everyone grown up is a kid for a day, with their grown siblings.
Christmas at Grandma’s house, nothing like it.
Only once a year, making memories for a life time
Beef and noodles, scalloped corn, mashed potatoes
Five kinds of pies, mints, cookies. Wow!
Children watching their parents becoming kids again
As their mothers tell them what to do.
Not all children, some are sneaking mints and nuts.
Homemade Christmas stockings thrown into clumps.
Christmas feelings without names
More intense than other feelings
More personal, more exciting, more magical
Christmas. A day to celebrate our Christ Child.
Bird of Prey
On Banyon Lake, where waterfowl dwell,
The night was tranquil and held no fear.
Until came a sound ascended from Hell.
I heard a menacing cry as I drew near.
Upon the shore no wave did break.
No whispers on the wind were heard.
Nor was there a splash on the lake.
From any waterfowl or roosting bird.
The anxious cooing of mated doves
Cried out a warning on this ominous night
They heard the screech from far above,
And trilled warning of a hungry bird in flight.
A mother swan, at the edge of the lake,
gathered her chicks beneath her wings.
It was a time to stay alert and awake.
In the face of danger, no bird dared sing.
The predator hovered high in the sky.
I saw her shadow blanket the moon.
With yet another shrill, piercing cry,
I heard the faint wail of a single loon.
There was movement among the reeds.
The hunter circled in search of her prey.
Her only focus was to fulfill her need
Before dark gave way to light of day.
Talons lowered, she opened her beak.
Again she screamed from great height.
Eyes focused on the fish she did seek.
Upon her wings, reflected moonlight.
Down she plunged with swiftest speed.
With keen senses she was able to snare
The prize that would sate her needs,
And enough to feed her fledgling pair.
With a flap of wings she rose in the sky.
A fish clutched in the grip of her claws.
All the birds were safe. I let out a sigh.
Fulfilled was Mother Nature's basic law.
A stilt legged egret came out of hiding.
Swans craned their necks in a swoon.
Doves continued their calls and chiding.
A nightingale whistled a joyous tune.
On Banyon Lake, where waterfowl dwell,
All was peaceful, serene, and still.
Upon the water, silver moonbeams fell.
The bird of prey had eaten her fill.