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.
I gaze into the eyes of oblivion,
it stares back at me with contempt.
None of us are budging a brow to blink,
for our pride is at stake.
We sit opposing sides of a sterile void,
tiring from the tedium of this task.
Wondering who will move, who will flinch.
Who will lose.
The bags of sand that weigh my weary eyes are starting to quake.
As they are about to close, I finally see it.
What I am looking at.
It approaches me to smother me as I finally close my eyes.
I feel its cascading breath, I am finally face to face with Oblivion.
I open my eyes teary with defiance, but only to be face to face with
Nothing.
With your eyes full of hate
As venom drips from your fangs,
Your pores oozing contempt
While anger courses through your veins
A putrid cloud of malevolence
Surrounds your black heart,
While animosity and revenge
Rips your sanity apart
Your mind has been poisoned
And your spirit subverted,
By the slow death of your soul
Which you could have averted
You chose to consume
The evil and hate,
Eating every rancid morsel
Served to you on that plate
Your wash it all down
With that liquid you hold dear,
As you continue to drown
In your own misery and fear
This sickness has destroyed
Everything you held true,
You've traded your life
For that foul devils brew.
Unable to see
Past the darkness and lies,
Even deaf now to hear
Your soul’s pleadings and cries
Unsuccessfully you try
To wash it away,
As you drink from that bottle
Day after day
I pray for your soul
And the torment you face,
But the truth about yourself
Alcohol can never erase.
To have, or not to have
Many people are from the outside, beautifully formed
with a mind that can absorb empathy and warm sympathy
but life itself makes us harder around the edges, as it is
It's not possible to live fully, shall we say, without knocking oneself free of cultural norms
Can friendship exist between the classes?
Yes, but it can be a strain
The wealthy can be sentimental watching a movie on TV
about poverty, but they will be hardheaded when making political changes that make classes more equal
Of our three classes, I have been through them all in my time
born into poverty, rising above its self-loathing tendencies
despite its richness of local wisdom, funny memes, and
often jubilant humor
Finding myself among the middle class who are stuck between two cultures, don't manage well, show contempt for workers, and loathsome dripping respect for the better off.
With this, I mean the royal household. I can't think of a more
An abject group of people, who, when paraded in public.
I have a very wealthy friend who suffers from being unsure if
people like him or not, I tell him to give me his money, it will
set him free, I shall bear the burden, whether people like it or not, alas, I have not been able to convince him
He spat with high contempt
and requires its place
One minute of silence ... not a second more
the fear of falling - the excitement is palpable
Tears pressed behind his eyes,
and there was a painful lump in his throat
The audience has lost interest
the champagne bottles are emptied
The hermetic silence
heavy and raw
With an old airplane helmet
from the First World War
pressed down over his ears
Adult boys do not cry
Audience armed with eggs and rotten tomatoes
As watching lions play with a mouse
08/05/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
A man or woman in the prime of life
who values her husband or he his wife.
A person of strength with a disciplined mind,
One who is courageous, respectful, and kind.
They have great intellect but do not boast.
They love God,their country, and family the most.
The hardships and worries of every citizen
Are important and worthy of their attention.
Great honor and integrity they will possess,
And view the poor and needy with tenderness.
Not slothful or selfish, not weak or uncaring,
Our future and reputation aware that they carry.
Believing everyone has the right to make their own choices,
letting every person speak up, and hearing their voices.
A person of faith but not hypocritical,
They respect opinions, your faith they won't ridicule.
Not racist, not sexist, no contempt for disabled,
Believing all equal, all sit at round tables.
With strength and righteous anger for our enemies,
But able to compromise and all people please.
As much as I wish it, this can't be real, what a joke!
But if they were actual, they'd sure have my vote!
Man-I-Cure
It is 1918 and feet from the trenches require a shake up
Rotting and drenched by blood across enemy lines they
Shout ‘Peace’ and ‘This was the War to end all of the Wars’
A pedicure that is although amputated limbs have been
Discarded by the wheel barrow have found a gravesite even
Though not all are buried alongside their own bodies attached
Does a soldier’s cross rest upon limbo or on ultimate reprieve?
Faces blown into pieces require no makeup when cerebral
Matter has vanished alongside with reason a shot in the dark
Fortunate ones have their wedding rings taken from lonely fingers
Sent home as a message of a final farewell to weapons and arms
Bewildered by chemical distortion some blind are leading the blind
As they march quietly back from the front to an uncertain future
Who won this battle with whom was it lost and for what purpose?
In the mascara parlour of gas masks floating on poisonous vile air Egos
Require treatment as modern warfare rages on in contempt of mankind
Will a ‘Man-I-Cure’ ever be more than a cover up for assault on our strife?
14th April 2018
A fond thought,
kept so secretive,
rarely waves its goodbye;
close hearts are driven apart
by an unseen force very negative,
unable to unmake their destiny...
Love gives strength,
when everything else
provides no solid hope,
and as we aimlessly grope
our way up a slippery slope:
with the illusion of finding a treasure of glaring gold;
is indulgence gratified by our hasty ways of pertinence...
forgetting to be excessively lenient?
A fond thought,
once vivid and unfought,
loses its meaning through incertitude,
by attempting another substitute;
emotions are steeped in truthfulness
and devotion is built on mutual faithfulness,
if these don't exist,
trust cannot persist...
The loveliest thought
brings two together by a perceived concept;
take it away from them, with vehemence,
and they'll show great intolerance...
A fond thought
conveys no contempt;
it only imparts its sincerity,
when it attains clarity...
septets
Rain fills our lakes with rich resource
on which the fish and fowl rely.
Their life flows with the rainy clime.
Mankind requires rain too, of course,
precipitating fear in time
as tribal dances testify.
Drought brings man to his last recourse.
Flooding of rivers, lakes and seas
causes damage on the game reserve.
Plants and animals lose their ground.
Tribal dances seek to appease
a god whose grace and mercy abounds
when deluge takes a nasty curve.
Prayers are poured out in hopes of ease.
Environs’ balance is no easy task.
as mountains, valleys and forest streams
supply nature with health and growth.
Human nature, somewhat selfish, basks.
in give-and-take which stirs a two-faced oath -
if God can hear and will my life redeem,
I’ll dance and wear his sacred mask.
For hundreds of years, the skies were dry;
a mist met all that nature needed.
Creation failed to meet God's mark;
confidence in Him went awry.
Noah roused by notions of an ark
was engulfed by scorn. Contempt receded
as rain starts to dance. Rain hears no man’s cry.
written 28 January 2016
Gale force winds have blown away the top of his skull
Impaled by a fallen tree with the prison of his mind exposed
Tim’s pierced splintered and dismembered fragments
mash freely with mushed grey matter ready for take off
A lobotomy of sorts a wholesale removal of a vanishing soul
‘Do not worry, this too will pass you cannot fight nature’
but his thoughts and emotions are lost in oblivion and void
‘After thunder comes the rainbow’ but his colours have faded
Blank paint on black canvass and no light in havoc and pain
‘Take those pills they are pink orange purple and yellow’ yet
braindead waves guts gore pillage and plunder have followed
the storm and Tim lies numb naked dissected and ruptured
Electro-convulsion as last resort has failed as the straight jacket
burst at its motionless seams and beams have nailed him to a cross
and cross fire frying lightning and thunder into hot ashes and gashes
Angels found no right nor rite of passage with all traffic suspended
The eye of the storm's euphemism in contempt of torrential calm
as a mental Hiroshima engulfs him at the epicentre of destruction
Fully enshrined in atomic radiance Tim has neither time nor energy
left for the I-Self in tempest’ turmoil and blesses his very own death
"Unbelievable things you know
there are, while dreaming
you awake to the morning star."
"Unbelievable things you
see everyday,
bonds of time never
decay."
"Unbelievable things are not
always true, you have
to make a theory and think
it through."
"Unbelievable things are not
made with sense,
they are made with entertainment,
amusement and contempt."
"Unbelievable things of
our age,
new to us and awake."
"Unbelievable things that
we discover,
all we see and all
we cover."
"Unbelievable things that one
day will sound weird,
But at a time they were
probably feared."
"Unbelievable things that will
always be there,
no matter if they are happy
or filled with despair."
'Writing Challenge - Unburden a ''U'' Word Sponser: Constance La France
Date:11/11/2022