Long Scorned Poems
Long Scorned Poems. Below are the most popular long Scorned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scorned poems by poem length and keyword.
Once she stood outside the circle, pining and afraid
Her best gifts a trifle, far too meager to assuage
The Exalted Ones, but, trembling, she still offered her page
Silence, the only voice answered-
Until, falling from nowhere, his lavish praise
Enveloped, reassured, redeemed, elevated
Suddenly, she was swept along in a flood of belonging
His rite of initiation allowed her into the tribe
She was accepted and glowed with pride
Everything fit, everything clicked-
Then, in a drought of words, his esteem evaporated
His devotion drifted to dust
Leaving her exiled in the desert of disillusionment
She attempted to recover his grace
With honey-coated nuggets of bait
But it was clear another had captured his fickle charm
So she scorned the "damn with faint praise" blow
And learned to harden her fragile ego
She gathered her splintered self to shoulder on
And seek a new sun in a different dawn
"Lonliness is not a longing for company, it is a longing for kind" - Marilyn French, "The Women's Room."
4/22/18
Form:
They called it
Allusvain Sandite
The layer beneath
The sircrete, which
Had used both cement
And tar to create a
Permanent seal.
They used bankrun gravelsoil
To cover the aircrete
And when dried they soothed
The surface with
A high quality concrete.
Ten inches thick in a
Reinforced concrete layer
Filled with sand and stone
The rooftop for the hobbit
House. A masterpiece
Beautiful, at a fraction of
The cost
Lumberyard scrap walls
Encompasses the concrete
Mass. Lumber, scorned and
Oiled.
The hobbit house on a rises
Slab, affordable under what
Is recognition for best budget
Living standards.
Friends and family unite to
Make the cost more affordable.
Here I stand, a godless monk
Without account, my soul is sunk.
My name won’t make the Book of Life
’Cause I’ve been such a cruel ex-wife.
I cursed you in a thousand ways
(There’s been no “high” in holidays.)
The one with whom anew you’d start:
I wished she’d crush your faithless heart.
I hoped in Leadville the spill you’d take
Would leave your back with chronic ache.
A gleeful anticipation would start to thrive
While imagining you cut a wire live.
So, here’s my prayer, albeit unholy:
I wish my thoughts were a bit less lowly.
If I can’t be good, at least I hope to find God
So I can achieve a peaceful facade.
Though rage may be slow to subside,
This year I hope to turn the tide.
While never shall I wish you well
Next year, no longer I’ll hope you in hell.
You don't really know the pain
You never hear the hurt, grasp for breath
See the torture through the eyes depth
Their face you tell beneath their silence
Ready to go, acceptance to death is easier
Than the pain of the world we leave
Through love we share times passing
We grow, drift away life of our own
Sickness all around, danger just partake
We die each day killing ourselves
Our souls, what hurt that it still cares
The evil from within darkness depths
Like woman scorned, revenge is seek
No responsibility, looking point blame
Everything we touch has word kill
Heart of one wicked as the next
We die, just to live or purpose walk
It comes quickly, comes lingering like a fog
Devouring flesh, eating from inside
Reaper, few steps beyond journey path
Its breath, breathing like constant wind
We know no day, death be certain
Our dying days, we live without thought withering away
To die for, to be or not to be
Or unto death our last breath to the grave
Song of Solomon 8:7:
"Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If one were to give all the wealth of one’s house for love, it would be utterly scorned."
Hearts beating in rhythm, softly pulsating
Writing rhymes between two connected souls
Wondrous love story God is creating
Poetry that only true love controls
Hearts believing in such hunger for light
Breathing in gentle words, exhaling hope
Amazing grace in each verse God shall write
Wondering if we should runaway and elope?
Hearts meant for one another, two as one
Brought together by the light of truelove
The poem is birthed by the Word, God’s Son
Writing hope and faith, mixed with Jesus’ love
Romance grows in hearts who’re grounded in love
Eternal, God’s love from His home above
A Dylan Thomas State of Mind
It’s precisely 2:45am...the time when
~ if I’ve fallen asleep ~
I always awake to find
Myself drenched in sweat.
I lie here beside my beloved
~ as I have so steadfastly since
16 November 2016 ~
Thinking about...wondering...pondering
The end of my existence.
I am not talking about
Taking my own life.
NO!
I’ve seen, heard, touched, tasted, smelt
too much...
I’ve survived too much, felt too much...
I value Howard’s sweet...sweet...
Nurturing soul’s devotion
To keeping me alive these past 40 years
To raise my hand against myself...now.
I AM talking about these things:
Where do we go when we die?
Do I have a soul?
Will I be conscious — at the moment it happens —
That I am drawing my very last breath?
Sometimes, when I awake in the early morn,
Howard is motionless beside me
And I stare at his beautiful face.
Dare I reach out and touch it with one finger?
What if it’s stone cold?
His flesh heavy...dead?
Death.
The End of Living.
The End...The End...The End...
Last January I begged for surcease...
For an end to the pain...
An end to the physical torture...
An end to the psychic suffering...
The constant thoughts of:
“Is there a Hell?”
“Will I go there if I take my own life?”
“What does ‘eternity’ mean?”
Now this morning of 19 October 2017
I am thinking...feeling...praying:
Please...Please...Please...
God/Goddess/All That Is/The Universe/The Spirit
Make my neglected hated scorned body
Healthy and whole.
So I may live
today...
tomorrow...
next month...
next year...
Do not let me go gentle into that good night.
I am alive now...
And I rage...
I RAGE NOW!
....against the dying of the light.
Barbara Dickenson
19 October 2017
If I can shoot rascally rabbits,
Then I can shoot fetid fascists.
Tentacled mouths on rabid hares,
Gnawing shins in toxic air...
I do not bow my head.
I rise with rust in my crown, lead in my tread.
This beat’s too loud to flee,
On a planet with no trees.
I do not bow my head—nah, I bring dread.
Cloak and dagger, duck and cover,
Truth’s too raw to smother.
Spreading the sickness, resistance reserved,
Never futile—just conserved.
Rake the forests, sweep the proof,
Hide the truth under ugly rugs.
Hotel Potus, lobby blooms
With traffic jams and social goons.
Welcome to my all-night rager,
F-bombs stacked in the hangar.
Singularity’s creeping in,
Robot minds with a devilish grin.
But man made tools, then made war,
Built destruction, begged for more.
I do not bow my head.
I rise with rust in my crown, lead in my tread.
This beat’s too loud to flee,
On a planet with no trees.
I do not bow my head—nah, I bring dread.
Cloak and dagger, duck and cover,
Truth’s too raw to smother.
Armageddon’s Agent Orange,
Trickster heavy with a bone to pick.
Annihilation wears a scorned face,
No matter which proud boy takes the place.
Mad Men flags, movements sold,
MAHA, MAGA, lies retold.
DARPA dreams and laxative schemes,
Flush the system, kill the memes.
I ain’t scared of Mecha Men,
But the DOGE dudes who fund them then—
Troops of doom, no need for pay,
No food, no shots, just war all day.
Shahed drones, broken bones,
Ghosts from Tehran haunting homes.
Red hats crab-walk through cracked laws,
Alien Acts with insurrection claws.
Equality exorcised,
Truth televised, then euthanized.
Foreign policy with swollen feet,
Anarchy dressed in tailored deceit.
Red ties dragging on the floor,
Blood from brain to brawn—no more.
Already deep in World War D’uh,
New Order’s here, no need to bluff.
I do not bow my head.
I rise with rust in my crown, lead in my tread.
This beat’s too loud to flee,
On a planet with no trees.
I do not bow my head—nah, I bring dread.
Dotards serve poisoned tea,
Curtains drawn on liberty.
We forced her into menopause well ahead of her time.
Mother Nature’s prematurely changing and we’ll regret our crime.
We cut off her tresses that once bushed across her land,
polluted her oceans and soiled her golden sand.
Moody and unpredictable her volcanic eruptions flows,
fed a daily diet of plastics, pesticides and GMO’s.
We sweated out her edges and turned her temples gray,
while her hot flashes melt the glaciers that dissolve more each day.
Her skin is dry and arid as she blazes across her earth,
destroying crops and animal life, unyielding, no longer giving birth.
We ravaged her Amazon where green algae and flora once flourished,
only two days shipping while populations starve and many undernourished.
Waken with a splitting headache as earthquakes and tornados roar,
we have become her burden with our excessive cries for more.
Gas emissions have choked her and left her in a daze.
The damage is done, too late before we change our ways.
She is like a bridge as our weight has caused her back to bend
with greed, corruption and the unconscionable conscience of men.
How will humanity survive when Mother Nature has no more to give,
what will become of our children, where will they have to live?
This is a time of urgency, but we have been fore warned.
Her end is rapidly approaching, for “hell has no fury like a woman scorned”.
A is for Ant (and for ass, your dad is an example of an ass)
B is for Bee (and for b*stard, your dad is a bast*rd - first class)
C is for Chicken (and for a word I don’t want to say - but see K)
D is for Dog (and also for Dynamite - which I’d like to shove up your dad’s... see A)
E is for Eagle (and for egotistical effing... see K... and C)
F is for Frog (and for Fu*ker, which your dad’s been doing with someone who isn’t me)
G is for Giraffe (and for Git - your dad is a Git... and he has two faces)
H is for Horse (and for Hard Up - which your dad was... in too many places)
I is for Insect (and for Insolvent, which thanks to me, he’ll soon be, with just one legal shove)
J is for Jellyfish (and Judas. Your Dad’s a Judas... with a rash from his illicit love)
K is for Kitten (and for making some words sound worse - see C)
L is for Lion (and Lobster, a creature with claws that belongs at the bottom of the sea - hmmm...)
M is for Mouse (and for machete and for manhood... which gives me an idea)
N is for Newt (and Nymphomaniac - neither should work at IKEA)
O is for Owl (and Optimistic, well, he thought that he left me fulfilled)
P is for Penguin (and for Philandering, at which your daddy is skilled)
Q is for Quail (and for Quickie, the best that your daddy could do)
R is for Rabbit (and Rampant - and once I got that, how did we get you?)
S is for Snail (and for Slug, which describes both your dad and his di*k)
T is for Tiger (and Torrid, your dad was this with some Randy chick)
U is for Unicorn (and Underhand, your dad was this night and day)
V is for Vole (and also VD, hence the rash that was listed in J)
W is for Worm (and for Merchant Banker, thats rhyming slang for your father)
X is for Xerus (and X-rated gel, I bet he’ll work up quite a lather)
Y is for Yak (and for Yesterday’s News, which is all your dad turns out to be
Z is for Zebra (and for Zeees, that his Nympho is catching, asleep next to me)
*
[Xerus is a genus of African ground squirrel]
Thou shall not have any gods be for me.
Wealth is a god created by inheritance
Not sharing with the poor is not ambiguous
Greed has its place with unwritten laws
All to oneself is a terrible clause
Revenge takes command
when justice can be lost
Death can be accidental
And not require cost
Beauty can be a beast
hiding behind greed
It often requires sacrifice
To satisfy its need
Love comes disguised
As many different things
It can be most hurtful
Testing both dumb and wise
Anger applies penalty
Our own blind laws
Often over aggressive
Not giving a place to pause
Intoxication with its spirits
Sometimes breaking laws
While justice becomes illusive
Our souls give applause
Lying covers the truth
Giving permission to wrong
It's cost may become permanent
And suffering very long
Prejudice the reason injustice
Can be done
You can actually believe
To some a form of fun
Favoritism the unfair preference
For reasons that could be wrong
To some an act of robbery
No matter what the sum
Bribery is the sin
Breaking several laws
For some it's very specific
The reason things are won
Silence is the violence
By those who break our trust
Not witnessing the wrong
when the deed upon us is thrust
Laws are often reasons
Where wrongs cause distrust
A thing written on paper
Giving power to the unjust
Unrighteousness to those
Who make the claim
Yet acting with the causes
They do it In Jesus name
Bragging can be
The search for fame
To reach that certain level
To gain a certain name
Laziness the sin
Most are guilty of
The art of doing nothing
When duties are to be done
Agreements with parties
Instead of what comes from above
Oaths to ruling parties
Instead of what may come from love
*********** is the conclusion
everyone says is wrong
Assistance to life's illusions
Pleasure without the song
Government a place of laughter
Where often laws are often scorned
Conclusions come with disasters
When votes are often wrong
Waste a place for needs disgrace
And later finding what was lost
The regret of doing nothing
Before finding out the cost
Pride our only law
With in our reach and lust
The god we mostly serve
The god we mostly trust