Long Mocking Poems
Long Mocking Poems. Below are the most popular long Mocking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mocking poems by poem length and keyword.
My food is simple, unlike my music
Most of the time I spend in excellent company
My muse is unobtrusive and only appears with dessert
If I were vain, I would compare my work
To the labour of Sisyphus, but incidentally, I don't consider it meaningless:
I see more meaning in the fall of a boulder than, for example,
In the jumps of parachutists who risk getting tangled in their straps
But vanity is infinitely inventive, I like to observe
The tricks of the psyche that justify these pleasures
My music seems abstract, although it is merely
Autobiographical, and therefore translatable into the language of emotions,
At least in allusive episodes
Although I am not inclined to reproduce ready-made formulas
To serve as a worn-out armchair for the audience
I am for leaving the comfort zone for the zone of sadness
The zone of rhetoric of deliberate inconveniences, where I am like a fish in water
I ask questions and answer them myself, or
I simply ignore myself, thereby mocking my
Scattered plebeian curiosity.
If the crowd listened to my ellipses and exclamations,
My falling cupboards and jokes at funerals
Would be appreciated and supported,
And I would be recognised as a genius, for which, of course,
I would apologise to the crowd, even though their romantic ideals
Are utterly nauseating, but well paid.
But the number of simpletons is truly infinite
It is inversely proportional to the number of geniuses
Cynics write music for the crowd
Something like Yesterday and Candle on the Wind
And my indulgent attention goes unnoticed
My subtle jokes do not elicit smiles
And therein lies my happiness as an avant-gardist
Success would destroy me, but the indifference of the noosphere
Prolongs my life, which I pay for
With my music of spheres, squares and tendons.
The morning slaps me awake
with a frozen windscreen,
keys in hand, scraping frost like
I’m chiselling through someone else’s mistakes.
My breath hangs in the air,
a ghost of myself
mocking the effort.
The cold flirts cruelly with my cheeks,
leaving them raw,
only for the radiator’s blast
to burn them out of spite.
The heating bill waits in the wings,
a villain in this pantomime.
“Put on another jumper,” I mutter,
as if wool could conquer capitalism.
Blanketed, I surrender to films
where faces blur into
a tinsel-coated déjà vu –
different eyes, same dialogue,
happy endings so loud
they drown out my cynicism.
Stupid Christmas songs screech
their hollow cheer,
and I let them.
They’re easier to hate
than my own thoughts.
But the air is so fresh
it cuts clean through the noise.
For a moment,
the world feels lighter –
even the weight I carry
shrinks to something
I can hold in my hands,
turning it over like snowflakes,
watching it melt
into the brittle calm of this season.
I logged on, a world so wide,
But the words they threw, I couldn’t hide.
Behind the screen, they didn’t care,
Spreading lies, I felt despair.
The mocking comments, the cruel replies,
Each one a dagger, each one a lie.
Friends who once stood by my side,
Now joined the crowd, and left me to hide.
The pressure built, the pain too much,
The hate online, I could feel its touch.
So I made a choice, to walk away,
To silence the noise, to end the dismay.
I deactivated my accounts, cut the chain,
No more torment, no more pain.
I focused on my life, took back my soul,
Tried to heal, tried to make me whole.
Betrayed by friends I once held close,
Their words like knives, sharp and gross.
But in their leaving, I found my light,
A chance to grow, a chance to fight.
I built myself from pieces torn,
From the silence of the pain I’d worn.
And though they thought I’d fall apart,
I rose again, with a stronger heart.
I found my strength in solitude,
In quiet moments, I found my mood.
The world outside may try to break,
But inside me, there’s nothing they can take.
I came back stronger, wiser too,
No longer a victim, I know what’s true.
The past may sting, but now I see—
It gave me power to just be me.
So let them talk, let them sneer,
I’ve found my peace, I’ve found my cheer.
No more hiding, no more fear,
“Only girls cry!…Boo hoo!”
"Look at you" he taunted me, (as big brothers often do)
Making a mockery. He kept teasing me, heckling me,
as I whined, and cried, and planned revenge
Neither of us would have won a prize, for being Mom's angelic pride,
of Kirby street that hot July...
“You Thug!”..I cried,…a laughing stock...his mocking me,
and worst of all, our bitter brawl played out for all the world to see.
No recourse, no remorse..(poor me!!)… As the butt of his demeaning jokes
By then my temper had been stoked, he had poked me once too often!
So HUGE, was my disdain for his smug, big thug, that grinning face,
in retaliation, for my humilation, (as an enraged little sister might do..)
I grabbed one of his model airplanes….and threw……THREW HARD...
It broke into shards, big shrapnel pieces…I dashed for cover...
Hovering behind the hedge…waiting for his own revenge!…
Instead it left a gash, a bloody angry wound, I was aghast....!
Well, of course our Mother got involved.. .
It was resolved by iodine and bandages
And a tongue lashing...
“You could have put out his eye!! ….and then we cried, …the two of us
Well we would repent, and spent the day becoming friends...
The afternoon out in the yard….
One sudden, unguarded moment ….
there was a car,.... came ‘round the bend
and as our game was 'bout to end....his dog, (his mongrel friend) was hit
....and then....
all time suspended........
My brother’s sweet dog, who slept on his bed, was gone
The next hours painfully hung…and long is the memory that still weighs a ton….
Ending with me alone in my bed..
Mute with grief ….remembering his words….”Only girls cry”….
Hearing his sobs……all through the night..
And my parent's cooed comfort, the soundtrack to this tragic movie
That still plays in my darkest theater….all these years later
I shudder still, have a lump in my throat…how that faint little scar, can still emote…
such feelings of tenderness I felt on that day.
Over the years…we have shared many tears…
we have leaned on each other, me and my brother
Big girls will cry, just as little girls do…and big boys can cry,
..and hey,..that’s okay, too
Harris and Trump hit the stage
At stake is the next US president
The debate was filled with rage
The debate was filled with torment
It was like watching a tennis match
With each participant taking shots
Back and forth we watched the barbs hatch
Back and forth each tried to connect the dots
Harris let her racket do the talking
While Trump defended the ball in his courts
The participants were mocking and rocking
The participants built word forts and false reports
Harris wasn't perfect and neither was Trump
But you can see clearly which one looked the part
Both party's stars are looking to triumph
Both party's stars are pledging a fresh start
Time and time again we hear campaign dreams
So it comes down to which candidate you believe in
Which candidate has less Pinnochio inseams
Which candidate you want to win
On November 5th the votes will be cast
And of importance, our American welfare is at stake
So think it over and be true and steadfast
So think it over and make ... no mistake
connie pachecho
9/11/24
America as we know it
Was hit with a terrible blow
Death and destruction was a new low
The terrorist striked
With a strong force of hate
They used all their tricks
To open up the gate
The gate to America
They plotted and planned
Sneaked and watched
Joining together for an all out march
Hitting us hard where it hurt the most
Destroying our economy
Laughing with boast
Boasting and mocking us, jumping with joy
Playing with us, just like a toy
Our twin towels laid in rubble
They bust those towles, just like a bubble
Back then, so many lives were destroyed
What can we do now, oh boy, oh boy
Just before dawn
It is late at night, almost morning; the silence is as noisy as high
tide washing over the pebbled shore. Gloom hangs in the air like
a horse blanket covering a nag`s rain-sodden back.
Tomorrow is the first of October; years have been piling up on me,
this quiet messenger of spent youth and yesterday’s ghosts I have
done my best to ignore, are back mocking me.
Dawn, a cockerel crows I hope my neighbour will kill it and eat it
for his Sunday lunch. The intrusive unvoiced is like watching
a black & white reel of my life, a litany of failures.
Sigh, I didn`t get to meet Marilyn Monroe. This moment when I
Should take stock of my life, all I can think about is to buy
for the fire Monday morning
The dignitaries are passing through the town in big Limonene and long gowns. They are throwing five hundred dollars bills on the ground and the people are running all around.
Children are running after them and a great big crowd has gathered around the bend, the whispers are getting louder, and the crowd began to swell. Money is scattered all over the street, filling pockets and purse, boxes and cans somebody must have broken the bank.
Listen to the whispers in the street; something is transpiring in the deep, the roosters are crowing, the cows are mooing, and giant tiger is running around the den. The zookeepers are not around, and the cheaters are running all over the town.
They are smashing windowpanes and emptying the stores down the lane, they are running in bushes with bags and buckets and entertainment TV to mount on their walls, how far can they go when destiny have them on the show; the whisperers in the town are going to drown.
See them going back and forth without pants and shirt, they are running around the street with naked bodies and bushes wrapped around their malicious bodies. Some are going back and forth with no place to go.
They are carrying bundles on their head, dragging a cart filled with dead bodies and white sheets draped around it and a mantle sitting on top of it. While men with pickaxes and shovel on their shoulders walk slowly to the cemetery to bury the dead.
The traffic is rumbling around the town, dragging the passengers all around and the heat penetrates the center of the town. The day’s slips away and the cold wind blows violently through the trees sending the birds flying with the mad breeze.
And suddenly everything comes to a standstill and a mocking laughter burns through the earth and the vibration turns over the dirt.
The trees began to shake, and people began to scramble all over the place, the houses are tumbling down to the ground and the bridges have broken into pieces and falls in the sea, weeping and wailing all around and millions of people are buried underneath the ground.
The shaking stop and not a sign of life could be seen except the owl and its rattled dream, the whispers fade away and a new earth was born.
Common reaction occur in most
they fit you in and bond you close
those similarities meet expectations
I’m unfamiliar in situations
So I stand out and people notice
makes me a target for jokers
assumptions always go with stupid
they humiliate the dumb kid
I grew up as this repeated
getting judged then mistreated
attention that left me deflated
for getting noticed I grew hatred
But I learned from repetition
patterns indicate intentions
minds are placed in my direction
testing leads to destinations
The destination is the laughter
social acceptance comes thereafter
at my expense while I am laughed at
now I’m grown you shouldn’t do that
Not because I will hurt you
nor will I avenge the plot
I just know what you are up to
as it happens quite a lot
Most people would call them out
speaking out to stop the process
let them know what they’re about
not me though allowing progress
because I’ve seen all this before
they’re always the insecure
with egos shrinking miniature
get me the egos restored
people communicate a sequence
they see then realise and they watch
the extra interest easily sensed
then actively test what I’ve got
And I’ve learned to lead them on
show them their judgement ain’t wrong
if I’m oblivious they’ll go again
in front of others to show them
And in a room in view of all
they’ll do what they did before
acting cocky feeling assured
and that is when they’ll look fooled
I’ll lead you to the trophy
let you put one hand on it
before it’s rip unknowingly
and you look like an idiot
In front people you got watching
the ones who heard you mocking me
that last second loss is shocking
humiliated purposely
The ones who play this game ain’t nice
they try it once but never twice
in their heart they’re cold as ice
they thought I’m here to sacrifice
He came to school in worn out teeny shoes
with a scab on his knee and a sour attitude
He talked with a lisp and bad pronunciation
which made things worse in a bad situation
Always fighting and calling bad names
Always pointing fingers at others to blame
Always rude and crude having little shame
and when he mispronounced it he got a new name
Kids called him naughty, naughty mean boy
but he pronounced it nardy, with it we toyed
Mocking him is Nardy the mean boy
Singing Nardy Nardy brought us such joy
But he liked it and took it to name
Lived it and rived it to us with pain
To him Nardy was a badge of fame
to us it became an unwanted game
As the school year dragged into cold
taunting Nardy just got tired and old
I asked his real name and what did he say
but Bartholomew Augustus Day
He became just another friend to play
we all agreed Nardy forever he would stay