Long Reviled Poems
Long Reviled Poems. Below are the most popular long Reviled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reviled poems by poem length and keyword.
Everything I do seems to find a way to mock me.
A jeering derision to the paradox of my delicacy.
Each impulsive haste of emotion knocks on the wood of my wretch.
A doleful stimulation to invigorate the louse of my lassitude.
The inertia of my cunning shrewd howls against the odium of my filth.
Against the odium of my haste.
The odium of my humility.
And the odium of my unadulterated abhorrence.
I find myself comparing the speckled illustrations of my masked exploitation.
One of a noble morality.
One of a sinful salvation.
And one of the reprehensible dignity I carry within the reality of my reviled anatomy.
The reality of my depiction.
The reality of my void.
Every word of degradation invokes the ice of my celestial petition.
A celestial plead for an implosion so grave; it dares to uphold a cathedral of my indented dejection.
My fortitude of a sunken dejection.
My poverty of an exiled dejection.
My deception of a gouged dejection.
I am nothing but the prolonged corpus of my own vile vulgarity;
I am nothing but the corrupted potency of my own induced pallet;
I am nothing but the misdemeanour of my own cholerised pertinence.
I.
One cloudless day, without spring shower
or monsoon, angels made their stand;
and conjured otherworldly power,
one cloudless day, without spring shower.
But God pruned me like a flower,
when I clutched lightning in my hand,
that cloudless day without spring shower:
I then was chosen that same hour.
II.
Though crucified, reviled by hate,
I dwelt in my ivory tower;
inspired by love, as I create,
though crucified, reviled by hate.
My sweet songs showed how God was great;
fertilized by life's manure, my flower
bled, crucified, reviled by hate,
by evil men, the world, and fate.
A cruel Jack Frost blows icy floss
(in front of spring a’ burstin’)
while shiftin’ sheaves of withered leaves
near freezin’ streams a’ thirstin’.
A pack reviled runs roamin’ wild,
the alpha wolf wakes howlin’
then scents a lean and lonesome scene
while on the lurk a’ prowlin’.
A cloud revolts with spangled bolts,
and starry skies start closin’
as wild geese soar beyond death’s door
neath naked moon a’ posin’.
Electric shafts, like fractured rafts,
sail night’s cathedral caldrons –
their cracking curse makes herds disperse
in random splayed and sprawled runs.
A she-wolf sighs with hungry eyes;
the ancient wolf waits, bayin’ -
with weary back, he’s lost the track,
his bandied legs betrayin’.
The brood’s somewhere in shrouded lair
with mama left to mind ’em -
the wolf, a’ drag with empty swag,
is on his way to find ’em.
The pack rejoins with weary loins -
perhaps its days are numbered.
In evening’s night, he’s feeling tight,
with aches and pains encumbered.
As morning nears, with shaggy ears
(one droopin’ down, hung over)
he’ll set the course with renewed force,
for, yes, he’s still the rover.
When snow enshrines the timberlines
and skies are ripped asunder
though young, lupine, they’ll stifle whines,
as gullies fill with thunder;
mid echoes in the mouth o’ death,
they bid farewell the lair
while panting puffs o’ crystal breath
float, hanging in the air.
Their path is black (they can’t look back
for herds long gone a’ missin’)
as dusk profanes the snow-bound plains
the sinkin’ sun was kissin’.
Neath northern lights, with barks and bites,
he keeps ’em all in motion –
the speckled scars of fallin’ stars
display the night’s devotion.
The sky’s a’ blushin’ in the east,
and hollow wind’s are sighin’
while buzzards freeze in gallows trees,
a’ roostin’, rapt and eyein’.
These ghouls of prey, they’re spooked away,
like tumbleweeds a’ blowin’,
by tilted head, white fangs tipped red,
and warnin’ wail’s a’ growin’.
...... Continued in part 2 ......
When I was dewy-eyed I dreamt of love,
of a kind of love fit for a virgin
for whom romance betrays no vice or sin--
or for God to curse and speak evil of.
But I, rebuked and reviled as from above
by Providence, lost as Misfortunes won;
Having quit all hope for love's boon, I spun
myself astray on the wings of Lust's dove
into the rough lap of a subtle whore,
a strumpet to whom I gave my purity
who mocked me and then grinned with the three-score
more she's had,--I howled, "What cruel irony!"
But so long as life, breath and hope abide,
love will come; and when it comes--it'll provide!
For years and four days,
I await a knock, a stark reply,
The unknown a wretched price to pay,
And it burns me alive.
They say fire is but cleansing, if so my soul is burnished bright,
Yet it does not warm the morning, nor brighten black night.
But mourning the past, what has been and could be, brings a heart only sorrow, and threatens ill deed.
So I'll turn red rimmed eyes, from smoke and weary tears, to the God who is wise, to whom prayers never fall on deaf ears.
For the years I have waited, a lifetime of trial,
He never wavered, my heart never reviled.
For His goodness and mercy, are neither bound nor abated,
Through the waiting and fire,
I see it is in Him, I've truly waited.
repugnant racist republican reviled - rickettsia re:itch ruler.
rapaciously ravaged revered reverential rubric.
radical ruthless renegade rapidly riotously rips rigged ramparts.
refrains retaining remnant redolent regal, resplendent rafters.
riches rudely rupture rooted rectified rights.
ruckus ricochets revenant reign.
ratified rattlebrained rules roil reductionism.
rumbustious rapscallions rollick; render ruinous ramifications.
rusty razor razing revenge rents reprisal.
rabid rectal rictus rotten rebrands re-calibrate.
rambunctious revolutionaries rejoice.
ruffians ride roughshod routing reigning royalty.
reiterate revetting robust recidivist rationality.
ride Rolls Royce relentlessly rendering rock ribbing.
riffraff raconteur raise reactionary response.
revisit rancorous restrictive redlined realigned rightward rivets.
robocop ridiculously rubber-stamped reorganization.
recalcitrant reactors release rapture.
rash Russian roulette reconnaissance raconteurs rack rubles.
red room reflects republican RNA.
rap risible rheumy ratiocinated rug-rats revoke righteous refulgent repertory.
rapier robed robbers ransack reliquary resounding retaliation.
retaliatory redcoat regnum reformation remembered.
Rudy robotically recoiling rapprochement
raison d'être rosily revered rifled relics raffled.
rookie raves ripe rackful rubenesque reliably ranked.
refulgent rotundity requisite requirement re: reappointment.
road-tested, roadworthy redeem reapportion routed role.
reprehensible reassignment rapidly recognizes response.
rife rampage removes respectability - respect.
responsible roused restitution refuted.
risky resultant reconnoitering runaway railroad reverberates rivalry.
reflexive ramrod reaction reconfirms redoubling ridding revitalization.
reconfiguration realpolitik reinstates repudiation
rebooting Roosevelt regime reconsidered.
requisition requires resilient reseeding republic.
regrettable riley roars remorseless ribbing.
rare recount restoring recondite renown reprobate Rapunzel.
Republican representatives rejoice reclaiming reins
registering retarded romantic remains
re: Rastafarian revered reliquary rests!
Lifeblood of democracy hemorrhaging
ousting the "FAKE" president only recourse
to staunch impending grim demise,
since forefathers drafted
United States Constitution
ratified more'n two centuries ago
hoi polloi must take to the streets
denouncing severe curtailment
impinging sacred freedom of speech
linkedin with paramount bedrock provision
accessing unvarnished flint stoned "truth,"
nonetheless commander in chief
he quakingly, staunchly, vociferously...
excoriates, lacerates, repudiates...
one damning hermetically sealed,
iniquitous airtight, vacuum packed
flagrant misuse of power,
(not to mention nepotism)
invidious, insidious, injurious... infractions
incontestable, incontrovertible, contemptible...
significant melange in führer
re: hating deplorably
crooked basely barren
factual exposé after another,
deft correspondents all not quiet
along western front
(I heard Maria - mull remark)
bring "to light" execrable,
lamentable reprehensible...
gross transgressions
commander in chief
significantly overstepped
Pulitzer prize winning
prestigious storied publications
scathingly trounced, pillaried,
lambasted, insulted, denounced,
butchered, critiqued, demonized,
fricassed, gored, humiliated,...
pummeled, quartered, reviled
courageously expounding fiend
ensconced within his Taj Mahal
impregnable donjon, whereat he trumpets
laurels asper, nonpareil administration
laying groundless accusations
baring his white fangs,
twittering, naysaying, mocking.. supreme
renown gifted by "honest Abe"
recalcitrant commander in chief,
who refutes objectionable
dogged investigative journalism
every step of the way,
where dedicated news gatherers
risk life and limb
firing line reportage troopers
ferreting (foxlike) he/she
doth gopher precious nuggets
uncover alarming undisputable details
impossible to refute raw bits
agent provocateur freely colluding
immediately hashtashed poppycock
smarmy, snooty, snappy
beastly capital one ogre
blatantly castigating diligent endeavors
oblivious pie in sky
delusional egotistic haughtiness
bobblehead vilified by silent majority.
'Tis be the night like any, except,
this year, the eve will fall on a Sunday.
'Twill be easier for the foxes to
appear from their denizens.
There'll be time enough for them to
put away their shepherd crooks
and their masques of necessity.
We all have had in our lifetimes, and
times before then, 'hints' and or more
than that, of who the Almighty be.
Just that some of us have room
enough for their closets, as their spares
are filled with skeletons. 'Je ne sais quoi,'
"I don't know what." Who cares? They do.
We, who do not wear masque, are
reviled for our shameless ways to be seen
by their kind. To carry on a despicable
manner, in public, of all places. Whether
it be on the streets, or in a tavern that is
the setting of New Year's camaraderie,
the accusations will fly undauntedly.
We'd like to believe that they fear the
Almighty--just as we do, hence, we are
without a masque. Open are we to being,
--just, knowing that arrows aim true. The
archers have replaced their crooks.
Now, that their arrows have flung, they
will busy their closets, once again. We will
be waiting for them--oh, no ... nothing like
that, after all, this is a public space. Our
doors, unlike the church that's down a
piece, are open to all. Respective of their
race, color, sexual orientation, proper
age, and, of course, their faiths.
Shortly, we will be expecting, --our
friends--we never call them by that
'other' word, it's so cliche, and so un ...
oh well, be top of the evening, 'twill end a
Sinday.
His day had come, and so He went and prayed.
The woes of all mankind upon him weighed.
His brethren slept; He knew what would befall.
His enemies conspired and did not stall.
A midnight kiss, and He would stand betrayed.
First seized, reviled, then stripped and flayed;
A scarlet robe on broken flesh then laid,
He bore the brutal cross and drank the gall.
His day had come.
A final breath. . . . the sacrifice was made.
The land then quaked. God’s sorrow was displayed.
The Son in linen. . . . on the earth a pall.
But in the sepulcher, His final call –
To conquer death! Man need not be afraid.
His day had come!
Submitted 3/12/23
for the Easter Poetry Contest of Regina McIntosh
you course in my veins with prurience, wild
immersing my marrow in urge, recompiled
teceptors abducted the instant you smiled
love's effigy flaming, my sinews defiled
all virtue forsaken, as tears from a child
fidelity's prospects are henceforth reviled
I inject you, narcotic - my opiate, pure
a caustic and carnal contingency's cure
delectably dressed with diabolic allure
such dermal sublimity, surface demure
I taste of your shapes, corporeal contour
skin softly savored, goosebumped and bare
your tang on my tongue, the nectar I share
our sugar rush potion for ravishment, rare
mixed in a kiss with the strands of your hair
your ecstatic delirium inculcates my core
I'm lost to a lust that's not lasted before
tinged with an aching that day would abhor
velvet and warm are the walls of your fire
addicted to you with a crave to be higher
you are my medicine, the tonic I chug
I am infected, lubricious and riled
lavished in sensual senses so sure
imbibing the essence of you without care
mixed in like poison, I stir you and pour
swallow in gulps, the consequence, dire
you are my opiate ... you are my drug.
addicted to you.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Choice M, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
( This is a new form I created named "Minuanetta", with a rhyme scheme of aaaaaa, bbbbb, cccc, ddd, ee, f, abcdef g (title) ).