Pillory Poems | Examples

Upsets and Underdogs

Kiwi Cricket's Shangri La...


"Can still hear the deafening din of the Indian crowd chagrin.

Stunned shell shocked silence at mandarins' sins.

Yet somehow still so loud

Like thunder down under in the proud

Land of the long white cloud.

Daring to dream of derring do plunder.

Upsets’ unctuous umami.

Shocks’ sumptuous serendipity.

Cast asunder as against the odds.

Hallowed Gods' anguished..felled & fallowed.

Kiwis vanquished the voodoo of Indian home hoodoo.

This purple patch, so perversely plush...got a hunch.

Would make even Prince blush, proud as ribena punch.

Sporting nirvanas cavorting with crepuscular career nadirs.

Can’t pillory this Test expedition, like the Everest conquest & Hillary.

Black cap sedition…Indian perdition.

Tradition debunked by spunky funk.

Not once, not twice but thrice.

Teeming..awash with gleaming beaming white.

Emancipation...damnation & salvation.

The Indian’s cardinal sin…not being able to play spin.

No way you can naysay.. just 

Another Bill Murray Groundhog day.

As we learned..the underdog winner.. we yearned had turned.

Fat cats burned & stats spurned..into a dog's dinner."

A COLD WINTERs STEAMY

The staticky-stars climax under intense blanket of Winter glow.
Your spouse can’t see your spirited green eyes that burn slow.

The friction of campfire sticks, the satiny slipperiness of moon.
Flames of blue, orange and red won’t be overcome too soon.

Pert rose petals, that once were goosebumpy and ice cold,
scintillate like fireworks until the grand finale’s loosed, uncontrolled.

Warm breath in a cold Winter’s steamy and a restless beast.
Lips lavish over late night feast, matches singe, sate increased.

Squirming under the leisurely complement of coals, coalescing,
Coolness of a blue lake vaingloriously countering, distressing.

A long midnight’s thrashing, sans pillory; the high beams foray.
Pillow talk, a sensuous squeeze, a high-diving elixir bouquet.

Ah those stars brilliantly glowing on a long Winter’s night!
Those limbs blush, rose petals crush, with unfettered light.

My 2023 Prediction

With a lot in life tampered,
With as much in it hampered;
For it there’s a recorder,
For in life, here, there’s order
2023
And it seems folks would be free,
I mean: crazily so free 
As to  attack a close tree:
More intake of cannabies,
Guys barking you’d think Rabies,
A man seize by the collar,
Because one saw his dollar;
Refusal to release “sorry”,
Yet one heard the pillory,
Open requests for secret fun
And, there, wanting the act done…

Litigants in a hurry
To with judge favour curry,
U.S. still leading peace talks,
On Earth more unsafe night walks:
Not much in my Nigeria:
Some steps away from The Rear,…

Happily in Africa
More released second-hand car:
A new wish to keep my beard 
Matching the New Trends stark weird.

Fame

Like a coconut shy
The pedestal an invitation
To find fault
Topple and pillory
Fame the modern obsession
Fifteen minutes in the sun
Now the goal
Not a deserved byproduct
Earned through hard graft
Or god-given talents
Just the limelight
For its own sake
The insane dogged pursuit
Of chasing the dragon
For its addictive temporary high
To find it bites you
And swallows you whole

White Flag

White flag is the biggest worry
Of combat-ready soldiers already in a moving lorry:
Of communities with vampires thirst for blood
Wishing to with the dead cemeteries flood...

Of militants who denied the chance for murder
For themselves feel mortally sorry
And dreadfully out of order
The restraining factor, a  thing to pillory.

White flag  - the greatest dislike of angered cattle,
Who disapprove of a truce midway a heated battle...
Of terrible incendiaries and the worst guns
That love to ignite that which burns...

White flag is the most innocent job of tailors
Nurturing dreams more ennobling than dollars
Sibling of elderly Olive Branch
That enables the attacked in the morning to eat a peaceful lunch.

The Muse of Chopin

Your Muse was Poland,
indelible stigma of time –
the altar of Heaven, thoughts of people
and desires contained in them.

Relaxing melody,
affects, ennobles thoughts.
Frederic, your music –
pulsates of Poland’s heart.

In your music, Poland’s history is short:
There is her triumph, her joy.
In the pillory of partitions, she is sad.
You are independent mainstay of freedom.

Your eternal music is with us,
entire world is proud of it, elated -
there is Poland of long ago and her future,
superb one and always moving our hearts.

Hillary As Envoy To Tripoli

For bi-partisan gift to Hillary,

Trump might name her envoy to Tripoli.

If she flubbed for heavens sake,

"What difference would it make!"

Except some more well-deserved pillory!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired

The Cryin Clown

There's a well traveled "Broken Heart Lane"
On the outskirts of my hometown
People come from miles around
Sharing misery from love in vain

A honkytonk where sad songs flow
Underneath a flashing neon sign
Where libations and music combine
To be a pied piper for lonely souls

From the first time I walked in
Found an empty booth at the back
My love train had jumped the track
Those sad songs were not my friends

I'd sit by that whiskey river
That ran from the sea of love
They'd always give me a shove
When their message was delivered

It was called "The Cryin Clown
Performances were always live
You could slow dance with brokenhearted wives
Until the river pulled you down

One day I finally moved away
Broke loose from my pillory
That old clown would call to me
Every time those sad songs played

I may be love's circus clown
I know where I won't be found
In a river where whiskey drowns
Neath the sign of the Cryin Clown


   an original poem by the "Poemdog" Daniel Turner
    Pillory - wooden framework with holes for the head and hands
                where the offender was exposed to public abuse

Donald Vis a Vis Hillary

I'm not all that enthused about Trump for Commander-In-Chief.

I personally find his narcissistic behavior beyond belief!

However, he or anyone else in my biased opinion is preferred to Hillary.

With her past precarious behavior she is fair-play for ridicule and pillory! 

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired

(Sorry folks - just expressing my hallowed lst Amendment Rights!)

We'Ll Go Asleep

We know despite regrets
that under bricks of stones
beneath the sea of red
(there) the daughters and the sons
have put theirs heads
for meaning of an forsaken strophes

We know the depth
of tangled words
from toes to head
we’ll flow an our  cause
to gird  it all around the neck

And sing upon...

That our world  
on gardless sleep
is only a fragile thought
of the Atlantis cover deep

We know...
we’ll go asleep
among the falling stars
on reefs of dreams
under the heavy prism
of bended skies

When pond of dark
absorbs the light
of blinded town
and haze’d souls

There... yet 
from morn to dusk
every ardor will fall apart
by pillory of scarlet dawn

Pillory

He was raised by his stepfather 
Who he loved so much
This man treated his mum like a queen and never raised his hands against her
He was a role model, of how he wanted to be as a dad and husband 

His biological dad was never in his life
He was known for his violence 
He abused his mum a lot and she had to run away
He vowed never to become like this man, though his DNA he carried

But one time during a heated argument with his wife, he did what he had promised himself not to do to any woman
He hit her, not once but twice
Her swollen eye, the pain and in fear in her face, Her tears.....all reminded him of the abusive days of his mum by his biological dad

She, the wife knew his history so well
And there are those days she would remind him of it, and he would shrink like slug being showered with salt

His abuse, his own punishment 
His abuse, her strength

My Love Story

et me begin the amorous tale of my love 
story,
In seven of ages a heartrending pillory,

With maximum make believe of childhood 
love,
Cycling after her with no worry,

To the taste of truffles and muffin,
Felt her each wave sweet to savory,

On slide following her with peeping eyes,
Seeking a vivacious look till I touched the 
teen glory,

With shorthanded life and full of misery,
Couldn’t even bought a gift or flowery,

But could promise to honor love for life,
And this ain’t false statement of 
stipulatory,

At mid of twenty two, with smashing and 
evaporating love,
Still remembered cherish liped smile of 
amatory,

ory,

And snake of love has now bitten my 
heart,
The anti-dote is her smile whether it might 
be illusory,

Hence the feelings pining and revolving in 
mind,
As gravitation, influence everything 
stimulatory,

In cold night with shattering fog and 
cracking leaves
Shahid is right here with a flowery and 
Sorry.

Shahid Ch.

Tale of My Love

Let me begin the
amorous tale of my
love story,
In seven of ages a
heartrending
pillory,

With maximum make
believe of childhood
love,
Cycling after her
with no worry,

To the taste of
truffles and muffin,
Felt her each wave
sweet to savory,

On slide following
her with peeping
eyes,
Seeking a vivacious
look till I touched
the teen glory,

With shorthanded
life and full of
misery,
Cannot even bought a
gift or flowery,

But could promise to
honor love for life,
And this ain’t false
statement of
stipulatory,

At mid of twenty
two, with smashing
and evaporating
love,
Still remembered
cherish lips smile
of amatory,

And snake of love
has now bitten my
heart,
The anti-dote is her
smile whether it
might be illusory,

Hence the feelings
pining and revolving
in mind,
As gravitation,
influence everything
stimulatory,

In cold night with
shattering fog and
cracking leaves
Shahid is right here
with a flowery and
Sorry.

Shahid Hussain
Chouhdry

I Am Not Jesus

What was up with all that mix with the keys?

The weed?

The transfer of seed?

Undone,
not unlike me,

I come into a tree-
and randomly free myself of my street,

I come up on a beat, 
and leak out my literal leaf,
and ache at the pillory awaiting the generation of me.


I don’t want nothin’ bad to happen,
but what does one trigger hand have in battle?

I would rather the peace be kept,
and my life be given instead,

I would rather a dead man be kept,
than his resurrection come once again-

I would hate heaven to see me,
when I curse at people who don’t see me,

I would adapt to another's kin,

if he didn’t feel the need to always resurrect them…

Threshold

Threshold



Weary of being yanked and slapped 
From pillar to post
From pillory between judgement
Dragged between moral and conceit

How the bated bear on its chain
Dances

Tossed piggy in the middle
Games for some higher power
Just so they can enjoy their meal
Salted and peppered on my soul
A tasty 
Dainty
Of a
Morsel

Stand between
Lucifer and Jehovah
While they play on these puppet strings
Jerk me this way
Pull me that
And toy like children
The bitches both
Deprive me

How the bated bear on its chain
Dances

A little quick step fox trot 
Of doubt and torment
Of love and happiness
Of faith and lies
Through an individual life
To appease a jealous little point
Made between Devils and Gods

I stand on the threshold
And turn my back
On them both

My own father
Proof of their sick little joke

How the bated bear dances
On its chain

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