Long Scathing Poems
Long Scathing Poems. Below are the most popular long Scathing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scathing poems by poem length and keyword.
Audio hallucinations, voices not angelic, they're atrocious and scathing.
No one else hears whispering every now and then: Did you hear that?
Going mad a big fear; her visceral crazy dreams are becoming unclear.
Entertains, never complains of painful futile pursuit. Panic stricken, blames other.
Less what’s prescribed—dizzy, a soundproof booth she describes and it, a bother.
Outerspace, underground, heavens above, always hate! Where is love?
Reality vanishes, she comes undone—swears she hears something, someone.
Denials rest her mind; amassing piles of illusions and lies combined.
Experiments; government, bad karma! Conscience, angel or demon? Too much.
Mental illness? She is functioning and keeps it together. She’s in touch.
O God, a curse, be strong, in this damned world others suffering's much worse.
Nevertheless tries her best, she sleeps with one eye open, frightened.
—a healthy mind, a soul quest.
Mindful
Startled out of nonchalant light,
Wakefulness stands at attention
Ignited flame from the eternal candle,
Energized vigil of the watchman
At the soul’s dawning daybreak
Tingling in the presence
Of every dappled infinite breath.
Rotating eye of illumination
Watchful, like a lighthouse beacon hovering,
Charts rocks and shoals through clear oceans insight,
Every nerve exposed in circumspection
Sometimes cringing in wary expose
Often basking in the light touch of satisfaction
As niggling prophecy finds confirmation in revelation
Throwing off the blinded penury of antonyms,
Embracing flashing synonyms of wisdom,
Tears of the heedful heart touch drab puzzles poverty
To polish with refinement’s shine burnished enthusiasm
For the incandescent dancing mindful
Then banish chary strobes of destitute indifference
Reaching beyond self-centered parentheses.
A lantern of thoughtfulness in floodlights
Of full harvest shared – no scattered crumbs of bread
Baked to stone in scathing flashes of the false
Eloquent vigilant splendor - never morning extinguished –
Torch to awaken lambent radiance of clarity’s joy,
Identity of the pilgrim heart, ejects sightless shades
Mindfulness blends the conscious scattered fragments
For Mosaics in clear lit portraits of charity's open hands
Throwing off the numb stalker branded carelessness
Born of intentional ignorance
Seeker’s actuated incentive to the attentive –
To hear! To see! To feel! To move in birth!
Action invigorated by accentuated humility of grace.
Date Written 6-10-21
Best #1 Poem - September 2021
1st place Trophy Win Poetry Contest - Mindful
Included in Poetry Soup Anthology - It's Still Poetry
No rhyme nor reason why
yours truly recalled how
me late mother
(earlier in her fitbit livingsocial years)
non verbally communicated disgust
(insync with audible sigh)
quite often ultimatums
blasting fulminating nauseating
scathing well nigh
she loosed loathing against
grungy looking son (guess who)
futilely escaped wrath of Harriet Khan
clamoring upon rooftop high
offering birds eye view
out of earshot and eyesight aye
catching sunbeams while smiling wry
cowardly lion sought divine intervention
courtesy sheltering sky
acres of shingles I sprawled
these lovely bones did lie
property of garden variety generic guy.
She who helped beget and birth
sole heir inheriting gamut of behavioral quirks
linkedin with many predecessors,
who trod, slunk, roamed...
across planet Earth.
Best bet said present day scribe i.e.
poetic, nonesstablishmentarian, liberal,
jesting, humble, freelance, dilatory bummer
whose hindsight evinced a student dumber
than his classmates wheedled
(as targeted scapegoat) by bullies their flummer
re: entrapped - worse louse than lice
internalized trauma left figurative tread marks
analogous to raging road runner
pressing accelerator pedal of hummer
driven by (an actual person) one Roger Kummerer.
Despite agonizing vicious tongue lashing
against flesh and blood,
which venomous invisible whiplash
never petered out
(even when sundry bloke
got married and gladly left home)
abusive treatment markedly
left appalling, loathing and percolating
ambivalence if though mama passed away
(these last seventeen plus years) wrung
cash crop of poetic endeavors,
albeit resultant lackluster
literary crafted aspirations.
Memory of mom overshadowed
by similar facsimile thereof
think shrieking banshee,
an indelible psychological imprimatur,
I strive to acknowledge
emotional reverberations to date
(May 27th, 2021).
My trademark wordsmith fashioned communiqué
impossible mission to shake off bittersweet feelings
toward once (former) Arthur Murray dance instructor
which fancy footwork synchronized with favorite
debonair handsome young fella (papa)
both flirts buoyant with elan and energy
only thru death will angst become free
interestingly enough hands will clap with glee.
*Note: This is a tale of honor in which the protagonist refused to tell his lady a truth which would have broken her heart, so instead he allows her to believe a lie, although it cost him her love.
Your tears stream salt into my open wounds
Equitable punishment for a scathing tongue
When deceptive words spilled from its fork,
my palate tasted morsels of amarum gall
Mea culpa Mea culpa
What penance do you deem to be delivered
for chafing injury upon your virtuous heart?
I have perjured myself with loathsome deceit
Condemned a liar, in weeping from your eyes
Deprive me of your kiss, as rain denies a flower
and I will crave death in a cold grave of darkness
Parce mihi, amica mea ~ forgive me, my love
The moment of reckoning weighs upon my brow
Mea culpa Mea culpa
To defend your innocence, I have readily sinned
For if truth I had told, it would've been a sword
and my hand, the one thrusting it into your heart
My life was loyally given; well worth one dulcis lie
Latin translations:
amarum ~ bitter dulcis ~ sweet
There are some people in this world
who either do not realize or do not care
how badly words wound.
Even slight agitation can cause them
to bellow their bullying obscenities.
Like lead balls from a muzzle-loading gun,
they’ll shoot you down,
maiming innocent souls in the process.
Both their words and deeds
come from a place of narcissism
and the need to control.
They may cleverly plan their onslaughts
or simply go off like bombs
for no real reason at all,
exploding vileness
and scathing their victims’ souls
over and over again.
It matters not if their attacks
are physical or emotional. Often it’s both.
The viciousness of each strike they make
reveals their utter
soullessness.
In many cases, their victims are
the very people they had earlier on
vowed to love and protect.
Sometimes they hide their true nature
from others
as they become increasingly abusive
toward spouses and children.
They become land mines onto which
innocent souls may unwittingly step.
Who can truly ever know
the extent of the damage they inflict?
They leave lacerations on the hearts
of the innocent that they injure.
The victims who live
with these toxic individuals,
will continue bleeding emotionally
from deep inside.
Sadly, the once innocent
who survive each horrible onslaught
may end up becoming
the very monster he or she
was once made to endure.
Unfortunates such as these
will have felt their souls
shatter into fragments so tiny
they can never be put back together
again.
You stung me with your waspish words
Injecting poison into my very soul
Again and again with those stinging syllables
Your words buzzed around my brain
Still you flew in and continued your scathing attack
It all came so easily to you
Viscous vitriol freely flows from your foul mouth
Deeper and deeper the venom seeps
You just stood there laughing at me
Continuing the little jibes and digs
Constantly belittling me
Criticising the way I look.
Mocking everything I say and do
Telling me I’m useless
The only thing you could never find fault with was my cooking -
I trained as a cordon bleu chef
My tears no longer flow
They have dried up like my self-confidence
Finally I can take no more
So I’ve cooked up a tasty little treat for you
Added my own special spice to your curry
I sprinkled flaked almonds on the top
They should mask the taste of the cyanide
Bon Appetite!
Dark and Twisted Contest Sponsored by Nathan D
09~21~15
Magnanimous Man My Papa – Ha!
Flagrant red hot poker rage
lacerated upon the head of this sole
male offspring, sans he who did
help to sire me, his vitriolic baggage
inflicted like graped shot,
and deployed barrage
also akin to inflicting searing,
menacing, and branding iron wrath
left indelible psychological blockage
insufferable emotional constipation,
wrought wretched state of human bondage
resultant outcome witnessed breakage
of spirit, when hateful scathing verbal damage
invoked, exploded, and bombed mine psyche,
especially during mein late
adolescent, and into latter adult stage,
particularly cuz this anxiety riddled Harris
exhibited no ambition to earn a living wage,
nor maximize on any inherent strengths
thus this then much younger body electric
oscillated with zero voltaic amperage,
which family of origin assemblage
dynamic ratched tension nsync
on par with hotly contesting arbitrage
additionally compounded by
indifference toward parents, a disadvantage
living under their same roof,
mama's and papa's patience
wore thin, second progeny they did disparage
punctuated with ultimatums toward me,
which did nothing to assuage
intolerable passive resistance stance,
thus expletive laced
"midnight lectures" dosage
occurred a bajillion
times per week on average
annihilating my self esteem,
wherein this native son felt
less worthy than bacteriophage
analogous to useless atrophied appendage
yours truly emotional detachment
heck, I may as well have been
ice sill hated in Anchorage,
cuz me negligible care and/or concern
amplified palpable uneasiness, a drainage
in tandem with estrangement fueled umbrage.
The blues you squeeze into your song.
Without the grays, you don’t belong.
The saxophone tonguing your grief;
Downward, the tears’ a scathing relief.
Turquoise battling the heavy waves.
The flautist, grave, somberly braves
The crashing shore of lighthouse lore.
Sudden widows - the sea keeps score.
The notes of navy grooves and plays
The composite of the ships ablaze.
Without the grays you don’t belong.
The blues you squeeze into your song.
The cobalt reed, a salty taste.
The blues strum strings around your waist.
The drums continuous throbbing;
Aperture of buoys sobbing.
Downward, the tears’ a scathing relief.
The saxophone tonguing your grief.
The blues you squeeze into your song.
Without the grays, you don’t belong.
An Devil's Dalliance
It was just one of those mornings?
Or at least I think it was, that is,
if I had created “morning’s” yet.
All my little angels trying out their
wings (in a strictly non-competitive
manner of course). I was slightly
distracted by Creation at the time
so some of the details are a bit
sketchy---the “all knowing” thing
a bit exaggerated---however I did
suspect some shenanigans within
a small group. You know, changing
the shape of the clouds, a seemingly
innocent diversion had become a
bit racy. They were playing with
rainbows and dabbling in an
evolving plot. Anyway, when “he”
showed me his “new” pet – the
duckbilled platypus - I had to draw
the line. After a thorough scolding
I sent him back down to clean up
the mess he’d made. A darkness
came over him (we call it anger now)
his wings darkened, his eyes glared,
a putrid wind arose beneath him
(the scent of defiant rebellion).
I still remember the sting of his
scathing good-bye. “I’ll start my
own “heaven!”. “I’ll be bigger than
you.”
“Until an hour before he left
I thought him beautiful”*
“I still do, for I know the
truth of who he is and wait
patiently for him to realize it.”
3/4/2016
*Arthur Miller, The Crucible
“Until an hour before the Devil fell, God thought him beautiful in Heaven”
submitted to Expand Arthur Miller’s Thought – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Julia Ward
Son something's gnawing from the north and south I feel it pierce my skin
Something’s brewing from the west side I have no places now left to hide
Something's rising from the east side I need to fix my whittled pride I need to prove I’m better.
Son please be there on your best side I need to be there on the beside
you.
Son I say this to you now as tomorrow I could die
To bring you up proper, I really really tried
My scornful scathing selfishness left my mark, you wear its toll
So loving and such trusting eyes that petrified my soul.
Defenseless to a crack when playing you were only
Low my eyes in shame I’ve made you think so lonely.
Son please be there on your best side I need to be there on the beside
you.
Son, young and stupid I stole that claim
All the while you played with humour just to try and ease your pain
My twisted ways of motherhoodlum held you up and still it makes you pay
Much more that only you will know, only you will never say.
Son I am sorry and so sorrowful I searches to retake care of you
I yearn for your belief in me I wish for you to know
Son I longs to retake care of you
You know my love can cut through bone.
Son please be there on your best side I need to be there on the beside
you.