Long Contempt Poems
Long Contempt Poems. Below are the most popular long Contempt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contempt poems by poem length and keyword.
An enthralling entrancing time of the year,
When we are pensive and reflect on spiritual bliss,
Memories come back tiptoeing, joyful or sad,
Treasured friends and loved ones - we reminisce!
Emerald waves breaking on sand, griefs and
Heartaches, overwhelm with remorse, and care,
In the innermost, saddest corner of our mind,
Ring some unsought tinge of dismal despair.
Not aware who my scornful enemies were,
Never thought, disliked anyone with contempt,
Prayed ardently for their safety and wellbeing,
No harm was asked for, absolutely no attempt!
Let all human beings live in harmony…negativity,
Enmity doesn't solve any bitter problem,
Wishing happiness for everyone, close and far,
My heart feels peaceful, delighted, and solemn!
During the Civil War, money came late,
Indians starved, left to their fate.
Two braves came across a white farmer's food.
They were hungry and stressed and in a bad mood.
Little Bear picked up an egg, Grey Elk said no.
Some things we can't do, some places can't go.
This is a white man's farm; we can't be here.
Little Bear threw it down with contempt for Elk's fear.
Grey Elk was stung, he killed five whites in the farm.
Chief Little Crow found out; said you've done us all harm.
A young man shouted, "Little Crow is afraid, a white man's tool."
Little Crow said, "I am not a coward and not a fool."
[chorus]
Never tell a Warrior he's afraid.
A red cloud will rise, a price will be paid.
The sitting bull will run with the crazy horse.
The wolf pack of fate will follow its course.
Said Crow: Count your fingers any amount.
White men will come faster than you can count….
they will turn on you and devour you all.
Like leaves your women and children will fall.
Little Crow knew what a hopeless battle meant.
But after so many broken treaties, he had to consent.
Friend Wabasha said: It is Great Spirit's will.
We have got to die. Let us, then, kill!
Sioux lost the war, the goal beyond reach.
"I'm ashamed" Little Crow said in his last speech.
Whites are cowardly women, but they won the fight.
Now we must scatter, like buffalo in flight.
[chorus]
Never tell a Warrior he's afraid.
A red cloud will rise, a price will be paid.
The sitting bull will run with the crazy horse.
The wolf pack of fate will follow its course.
There came many seasons, a Drying Grass Moon,
In Dakota reservation, not enough room
Water no good, no game they could see
They buried Crazy Horse at Wounded Knee
By the Yellow Medicine River imagine that force
Traveling Hail, Lightning Blanket, and Crazy Horse
Fierce riding Braves, Flying Hawk and Lone Horn.
From a vain quest of courage, a legend was born.
Through this mound of darken earth
I see signs of civilizations birth
A shard of pottery a piece of bone
Once this place was for man a home
Nothing civilized ever last
All that was civilized will pass
You walk the tombs of ancient man
Gradually with each step you understand
The grander the wonder the majesty of it all
Yet where did it go? Why did it fall?
The songs the poets the music the dreams
The riches the science inventions then screams
Calamities, barbarians at the gate
Or simple contempt becomes your fate
Forver your technology ruled your day
Than suddenly it vanishes then you fade
Layers upon layers we unearth our creed
Modern and buoyant we shall forever be
In a blink of an eye within a flash
Our souls are unearth how they marvel at our past.
Visiting my father
I met my brother in the town where he was
on his way to see our father and wanted
me to tag along
He, our dad, lived in an old house and
surprised to see his youngest son also
He brought beer from the kitchen and
my brother and he spoke about labor
politics
I was at the time a communist and had
contempt for those not sharing my faith
After all, I had spent several days at
a hospital in Odessa, where doctors wore
tall white hats, a chef would envy
My father avoided looking my way
I sat reading a newspaper, looking him over
He was of middle height and still had dark
hair, slim, I wondered if he was a kven
The first time I saw him in 1948, he was
drunk gave me a bar of chocolate with
photo of a female film star inside the wrapper
He was much older now, rolled hand-made
cigarettes and had a cough
That was the last time I met my father
when he died at seventy-five, I was as
usual absent
A euphemism! I? That I do decry!
Why the very word does imply
That I would ignore, omit, pervert…
If only to prevent some hurt.
Well, let me speak out forthright:
Search thoroughly my ways as I might
I truly must express some doubt
That a that is what I am about.
The purveyors of confusion
Suffer from a big delusion:
‘Lest anyone think I am unfair
I will look into it, that I swear.
Of all the words that I may rend
Lest some of you misapprehend:
It is quite uncouth, and not so grand
To replace the truth with something bland.
I am no cosmetic, that I vow.
I simply put a smoother finish
Upon the face of things, somehow
To enhance, but not diminish.
When things are not so peachy keen
My words can keep things bright and clean.
I ply those gears which do not quite mesh
With unguent words that do refresh.
One charge which will not bear any fruit
Is that I do circumlocute.
My words such a charge does refute:
I tell it straight sans substitute.
For those who think I do mislead
‘Tis clear my words they do misread.
When what I say is scarce obscure
Why is their translation so impure?
Some suggest, my words to defeat
Are oft effete and incomplete.
Should I really have contrition
For occasional omission?
I think I will withhold comment.
Controversy I will not foment!
Believe me, I will not attempt
To discuss things beneath contempt.
sheep sleep surreptitiously
spiders spin shredded silken seances
song birds sulk soporifically
rabid ravens rave rapturous rhapsodies
capriciously caught in clangour
I die dire deceptive dreams
tepid tears tear through torment
viscous vapours vacate venom
pus pelts my pitiful pillow
oozes omnipotent oblivion
alliterations alight anger
freeze fervent fear
reiterate raucous refusal
ruminate reverberate rancid rile
I wake the wake of weary waste
recycle random rubbish remonstrate
then morning mourns Morpheus
mocks mountains of morose meanders
day dawns dubious daunting delight
as I tease temptation to take a tally
send syllables into space and shuttle
to morphing metaphors from my mind
until excruciating echoes become echelons
of cumbersome circuits and contempt
when restless rest revisits and revolves
recoils at respite and the raven raves
20th December 2020
total fiction
I heard the words repeated on the news
so sick of them that my mind rebelled...
"Doge's plan and Trump commands
the Constitution should be banned.
Hell to that Chief! There's no relief
Breaking news only heightened the blues.
I don't want to hear anymore.
By seven P.M. I lost count of the trips
I'd made, walking fast, past my kitchen,
refusing to turn on the light to see
a day's worth of dirty dishes
that wish I'd make them sparkling clean.
They're staring with a look of contempt at me.
I knew what I'd find...
coffee grinds stuck to the filter
Raisin bran flakes
caked along the edge of a bowl
a saucer with a bunch of crusts
cut off of a sandwich from lunch.
I'll get to them later....
The excuse I used on myself
when the sink is a refuse of clutter.
I've become a recluse
and no one will see them anyway
and the old cliché of...
Tomorrow's another day.
By eight thirty I was bored
a time when food comes to mind
Hunger would not be ignored
A frozen dinner of mac and cheese
"Geeze" said my stomach
when it saw it coming...
"Oh PLEASE, don't do this to me"
Ok, ok...
chocolate ice cream
sounds better anyway
By ten, guilt pointed accusing fingers
lingering and wagging before my face.
Stop it!" I actually said aloud
"I'll get to them later,
first thing in the morning. You'll see."
My new mantra was repeated.
I decided to go to bed. My usual stunt,
but culpability was on the hunt
haunting and taunting inside my head
Two steps over the kitchen threshold
and my conscience took control
when I smelled the leftover fish.
The thought of facing each greasy dish
would not be on my to-do list come morning.
I knew my mouth was puckered in a pout
No doubt my yawns were angry at me
and my sudden notion of conviction...
a vow of benediction, it seems I'd taken
awakened me to the need for sanitation.
Liquid was pouring from two spouts
Hot water in the sink
and a 'clink' of glass on glass
Pinot Noir flowed from a decanter
I raised my stem and toasted the dishes
"Here's to wishes that don't come true."
The flying sent projections free to see,
from adjunct Astrals singing bold decree.
Perched on Pisces’s cusp, forsaking Plato’s cave,
Puppets casting shadows, chancing me a slave.
They hang from dreams of higher forms, allures
Contempt in self when loving carnal cores.
Haunted by women’s passions kept in Spirits,
Dawns my sleeping stages now inherits
Marionettes aloft eternal twists
of spinning truths with lies recalling trysts.
Killing prone volitions, changing essence.
Chosen starlight’s beings guiding presence.
Upon a love in purest form demands,
Forgotten suicides of ego strands.
Risking Pirsig’s fate in Zen and journey,
Waging sanity, a bounty worthy.
The stringing of my soul and bracing seeks,
A pulling truth beyond this death it speaks.
------------------------------------------------------------
Alternating stanzas of iambic and trochaic pentameter
At the verge of parched tears arrested in fear
Kim was enveloped by morbid sadness
Enshrined in her prison cell and stiletto in hand
tension rose on the surface buried inside
A cutting edge waiting to act upon visceral gloom
called for incisive bloodletting action
One life one laceration away from cliffhanging lightening
small visceral droplets engulfed a low rising soul
No morning dew on mournful contempt and self-castigation
cast out into casket's nails of grave conclusion
Ready to push one final dagger into her heart she wished
for terminal silence composure and freedom
She stumbled and was once more washed away
into guilt failure anger and endless void
Thunder and fire bolts turned into hail storms
‘Hallowed be thy name and forgive me’
Heavy crystals pelted her skin and frosted her soul
moulded a foundering slip on treacherous slope
Kim fell on her self-imposed dagger in the thawing of time
and woke up in a raindrop and the bubble could burst
They call you mad if you dare act too rough,
then call you weak if you’re not tough enough,
do not care much when we receive good news,
but flock like locusts when someone is screwed.
The claim to hold our leaders to account,
but only one party will they ever denounce.
They interview, claiming truth is their goal,
then cut it up, to smear you and to scold.
They claim that they must go speak with all sides,
but then only reprint a tyrant’s lies,
show endless contempt for their own nation,
yet whine when facing recriminations.
They strut about like they’re some privileged class,
but their high words get debunked rather fast,
say ‘objectivity’ like it’s a shield,
yet preach narratives, rather then what’s real.
Think we should trust only folks with bylines,
when internet proves them wrong every time.
They misinform, those useless, lying hacks,
I wonder if we can bring the stocks back…