Long Recriminations Poems

Long Recriminations Poems. Below are the most popular long Recriminations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recriminations poems by poem length and keyword.


I Dont Know But Should I

I dithered , dathered circumspect

Picked up winded said mantle clock

Winded yes , but yet did not set the
time correct

For i was myself beside ,
disconnected still stuck up 
caught up 

Fretting festering over the  
ensuing arguments and pending
postmortem

Am i in shock 

Should i be in the dock

Should i be called as both
witness for the prosecution
and defense

And do i should i have a case to answer for

Crimes both present my conscious
cohesion thought bought and paid
for future proofed

Aloof and soley based on half truths
and recriminations

With social D.N.A thrown into the
mix for good measures

Always a pleasure never a chore
unti all we are left with and know

Is even if or when a clock is 
winded up

Unless it's time is set correct

It's use and job is deemed
redundant pointless

Reduced to merely ornamental
circumspect evidence

In the trial of the century


Premium Member Ruled by Trees

I beheld the quaking aspen, shaking and gold
I quaked in resonance with the breeze
If you're young inside, you never get cold
Its recriminations that make your spirit freeze

I wept beneath the weeping willow
It felt like the right place to cry
Under its cascades I found a pillow
Had a sad feeling, didn't know why.

When autumn colored I found a burning bush
Its red leaves engrossed my mind
I was aimless; needed a push
A small voice told me which path to find.

The wind sounded eerie through the screaming tree
I thought of ghosts, and the sum of all fears
I looked for clues at the canopy
I learned life was not as it appears

They laugh when I followed the cedar and oak
then turn around to tie their ship to any fad
To be swayed by trees may be a joke
But following herd river is just as bad.

I'll take a subliminal hint from every tree
Can you trace your worldview from what planted the seed?
I'll go with botany, to some degree
You can go with the river; I'll go with this creed.
Form: Lyric

On Those Who Diminish Truth, Part Ii

...Yet there is another reason that some
desire to diminish what is true,
those who hate truth because they are afraid
that it might limit what they can go do.

Whether it be a Hollywood pedo,
or that gangbanger out walking the street,
or the Epsteins with their private islands,
decadent scum who think they’re ‘elite...’

These people love the post-modern ethos,
deny the truth of moral absolutes,
that way they don’t even have to feel bad
about the evil things they do to you.

They want to experience what most call sin
without being bothered by pesky guilt,
if they lie and say there’s no right or wrong,
then it matters not if they rape or kill.

They’ll even try to make others think this,
“It’s just how sausage gets made,”they will say,
but the truth is that they’re all predators,
seeking to groom a more compliant prey.

Objective truth is anathema to them,
so they will wed sophistry to their lies
to convince you that it’s ‘sophisticated’
to sit on back and let your morals die.

Now I could recite the moral duty
that truth-telling imparts on all of us,
and I could cite the major religions
to show that truthfulness is part of God’s cause.

But I think I will take another tack,
and look at society as a whole,
to illustrate why truth is so vital,
and why denying it takes such a toll.

If you order something on the internet,
you take it as truth the parcel will come,
if you contract a man to build your home,
you take it as truth the work will be done.

If you walk down the streets you take as truth
that police are hunting criminals down,
honestly, if they didn’t, would you ever
even risk going down into a town?

If we did not have these expectations,
would we have civilization at all?
Truth is at the heart of trusting others,
without it we’d be heading for a fall.

Economic interaction won’t work
if it’s all lies and recriminations,
the post-moderns aren’t just damn dishonest,
they undermine all civilization!

It’s no coincidence things have gone bad
as we have seen the post-modern scum rise,
reject these people who diminish truth,
they endanger whole nations with their lies.
Form: Rhyme

The Lingering

follow the poolside shadows
Venus of Delphi
daughter of bitter waves
peek through the peephole
of my glaucous thorax
open your byzantine eyes and
spurn your locomotor ataxia

one glance at our vitreous hands
– a sight for blind sore eyes 
one brush of our riveted lips
– gone astray in malformations
one ponderous confession later
– immaterial as a shadow of the lash

let the weeping corpuscles lie
swarm and jostle in the grotto
rattle and blather away our days
I’ll wait for your recriminations
fall asunder under your touch
fastidious in my entomology

let the bouquet glide downstream
the scytheman is still in his kingdom
then we rejoice in endless daze
the lingering beaten with bravura

You Are Owed No Reparations, Part I

You hear it said a lot these days,
“Reparations! Someone must pay!
Our ancestors suffered, it’s true!
For that we’ve come to take from you!”
Now we could just point out the fact
none of us were alive that far back,
that sin can never be passed down,
we’re sovereign actors, here and now,
we did not commit these mistakes,
and by no right can you come take
what we have earned through our hard work,
that doing so makes you a jerk;
but I think it’s more fun, my friends,
to stretch this crap out to its end...

Since slaves were taken, long ago,
I think it’s important we know
that Europeans could not seize,
Africa killed them with disease.
It was done by the ruling blacks,
a method they used to attack
their local tribal opponents,
take people to their detriment,
so black Americans should try
to get cash from all of those tribes,
go to the west African states,
they should be targets of your hate,
they own you cash, they did the deed!
So listen closely, and take heed,
all of your woke recriminations
should target west African nations!

But why stop with colors of skin,
that’s not where slavery begins,
eighty million African victims
were seized by slavers quite Muslim,
and marched north to the Middle East,
castrated so they could not breed,
worked to death by Mohammedans,
Africa deserves cash from them!
And Europe too, one million souls
seized by corsairs, then bought and sold,
when will the Muslims pay for that?
They owe Europe and should give back!

An even greater debt is owed
to the Greeks who ruled eastern Rome,
their lands invaded by the Turks,
it’s stolen land, repay that hurt!
Anatolia, the Levant,
Northern Egypt, taken! Gone!
This truly has gone out of hand,
Muslims, return the stolen land!

And what about little old me?
I’m owed money by Britain, see,
for what they did to my Irish kin,
during the potato famine!
We were driven from our soil,
and before that, forced to toil
for those damn Saxon conquerors,
I am owed money for that hurt!

CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Form: Rhyme


Plucking the Poisonous Parrot

Begone voice of venom!
You shan't intimidate me. You claim control? Wish to lay me low?
I stand firm.Your words hold no more sway.They are feckless.
You regurgitate ad nauseum the same toxic, pernicious recriminations. 
And nibble at my conscience with whispers of peccability.
But you forget : 'I am absolved of guilt, free from bondage, deaf to your voice.
It is you who are imprisoned. 
 Too long have I indulged your presence. I release you -
Into the outermost stratosphere.
From which you will never, ever return.

24/01/19

'Plucking The Poisonous Parrot Poetry Contest' 
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy

Premium Member Got Me For Life - a New Year's Medley

for Bebe Rexha


There's one thing
     that's constant
          "you've got yourself for life"

Eveything else
     comes and fades:
          recriminations, repercussions,
          delineations, manifestations,
          life, death - - - - -

All altered with fluctuations
     permeating the flow.

You can always
     look in the mirror,

What you see
     will never change,
          except for age.

It's a comfort
     to know that you'll

effortlessly be there
     for yourself

No matter what calamities
     are thrown your way - - - - -

It's divine intervention.

Bullets Write History

The close of an era has arrived,
Frayed tempers are quelled,
Surging recriminations are nipped in the bud,
Nothing is left in the mud.

The morning light brings hope,
The unknown does not rule the day,
Hope is no longer a crumbling clay,
The white flag has been raised.

There’s a sweet recognition in the air,
Embraces are accompanied by tears of joy,
There’s no hidden ploy,
Etched in stone is the cease-fire day.

The silence between wars harbingers a new dawn,
Gloomy faces now wear a glow,
Twilight brings no fear,
And annihilation is not in wait to emerge from its lair.


February 7, 2025.
Form: Rhyme

Legacy Media

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…
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Nazi Germany, Usa Style




Dreadful masters of deceit at its creation

Censorship and fear, hallmarks,  it’s inception.

You think, ah, that’s just ancient history?

As the news marches you happily into misery!

Race-baiting, how you love demonstrations!

Forgetting the lessons, the recriminations.

Skin color does not make you superior!

Just a slick word that justifies terror?

Into the night, you run, text and curse?

Making this planet, not better, just worse!



***Written on  the murder of a young, Black
male, at the hands of five Black Police
Officers, who are labeled as “racist!”**
Such argumentation is clearly,…Fascist!



1/27/2023.
Form: Rhyme

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