Resentments Poems | Examples

Some Love for Haters

I'm sitting at home but living rent free in your head.
Your thoughts scream for help so I'll pay some rent instead.
The payment's not money, just the hated helping a hater.
So I'll help you realize your hateful thoughts as your love translator.

Resentments and jealousy are like poison to your soul.
You're only hurting yourself as you slither back down your hole.
I'm sorry for being brash, I had to put my thoughts in check.
Thoughts lead to feelings which determine how you act next.
How you act and your actions have good and bad consequences.

Now it's your choice, be real or keep your false pretenses.

what a palette

he liked it black and white with no greys in between
even when cracks appeared so strikingly evident
strictly speaking he preferred pink purple and orange
yet when life gave him lemons the brush would not work

the more he stroked and tarred over ruptures and fractures
uncertainty became elusive and poignantly concise 
quite the opposite of what he had bargained for with all
the power delusion distraction insecure fear and despair

he knew that the writing was on the wall and yet
the language was foreign complex and would not reveal
meaning message beauty connotation and guidance
as he was blocked into silence depression resentments

all this had been the relentless story of his life and he
could not bear it any longer seemed to have lost all control
a rational mind portrayed it as the gift of desperation
a way forward towards healing perspective and peace

it was difficult to will positive emotions into effect
matters did not fall into balance but skewed misperceptions
what remained was hope rather than mere expectations
and he carried his burdens into an unpredictable but promising future

fulcrum of a rose

the pivot shifted when emptiness gave way
to acceptance that the heart is a treasure chest
of fragrance that comes with perfumed aroma
sweet smelling crises at turning point for love

their union had commenced like pink cotton candy
paradise made in heaven and soft silken sheets
pheromones of adventure passion and longing
inhaled from petals of sentience and youthful desire

as time passed and droughts threated the marriage
resentments fear insecurities and anger resurfaced
and they came to regret not having planted alongside
lavender sage and marigolds to salve and to savour 

thwarted by such negligence and self-righteousness
pink blossoms dried up as thorns pierced their hearts
and when they sought refuge in arguments and booze
poison intoxicated what had once been a blessing

cut down to pitiful size at loneliness’ fulcrum 
tears alone would not rescue the rose from demise
the rest of such floral narration is written with blood
of salvation and the miraculous gift of honest recovery

Just One Thing to Leverage

She believed her Barbie's and Ken's
had shared a love far more complex
than any feelings they'd expressed --
AND dolls couldn't even self-dress!!!

She knew they were a mistake -
one she wanted them to address.
Her thoughts led to a request -
they both take a fear of change test.

Pleased to speak free, she confessed   
being a part of couple failure debris
and held no fear of changing things. 
She sensed relief peak as he owned 
his tendency to cultivate regrets and
said he'd be more than fine living alone.

Once they aced the test, she at last
felt their tensions loose resentments.
Then they intelligently addressed 
the logistics involved in couple deletion.

Next, they tossed their dysfunction map
and then summed up zero further cost 
applied in paving a way out of this trap.
She was sure they'd only leveraged crap.

sliver of silver

she had attempted to colour in outside of the box
now the silver lining dangled from a broken necklace
suffocated her aspirations oozed discontent and sorrow
	
the shine had come off and no amount of polish would
erase smudges and impurity nor restore a once lucid soul
reflections tore at her heart and strangled in darkness

precious metal now a neck tie of craving for balance
reprieve from discomfort aberrations and delusions
pendant to be relieved from reversed penchant of life

at first she assigned emotions to one crazy error of judgement
distortion of passion disillusionment or mere false appraisal
yet resentments turned on herself in anger insecurity and fear

her whole mindset had been poisoned inflamed to the core
only complete reconstruction of Self would yield any success
which is when she decided to stop running away to face the truth

emotional shrapnel

invincibility had been a difficult pastime 
the flak vest of insecurity and coverups 
had managed to inflate anxieties and fears
to the bursting point of impromptu explosion
 
the festering boil had to be lanced at any cost
for resentments anger hurt and self-harm to subside	
a bullet proof illusion was no longer an option
to call it friendly fire would be an understatement

what started as a splinter soon became a red-hot cudgel
incising the mind soul body complex of delusions
yet no more fully detached from valid emotions
he decided that having feeling was better than amnesia

Magic Of A Hug

When we are deformed, sad
We feel the need to be protected 
With the help of a word 
A look, a handshake or a hug 
We manage to overcome difficult moments
Hugging cures hatred 
Cures resentments 
Cures anger and misunderstandings 
Cures fatigue and sadness 
Brings peace to the heart 
Makes peace to the soul.

Reality Is Too Real

It was always too late for us
can't be true love with zero trust
...confused
wondering if it was just lust
after not feeling good for so long
it felt too amazing, 
for it to be so wrong
but reality hit us extra strong
both wanting the other so badly to be the one
and to finally feel like we found where we belong
even picking out our wedding song
like we didn't already know
that the highs would never block out the lows
holding onto to pain and resentments that we promised we'd let go
purposely hurting eachother
with words of ignorance constantly thrown
like a stabbing a knife into eachothers hearts and souls
more and more distant with every lie told
wanting us so badly, 
neither would ever fold
knowing each bluff before it's even sold
something that was once a blazing fire
now feels freezing cold
that hollow love quickly got annoyingly old
convinced you just kept me around 
for a warm body to hold

soul fire

never call the kettle black
it shines inside and out
needs a polish now and then
perspective insight and action

miracles and blessings happen
when the time is right
and the privilege is granted

therefore I dived into the cauldron
a baptism of fire so to feel
and the magic potion sizzled

cold blisters of angst and resentments
vanished meta-morphed into the light

an inventory thorough cleaning
of the house that is my Self
a ruin of sorts it had been
rubble carnage wreckage
and I could not choose 
the colour of my rescue boat
the size or model of the life preserver

it would not have done to plaster over
the cracks in the pot
I could no longer attribute fault
reason or blame to others
it had to become an inside job instead
an act of desperation and gift of recovery

no one pushed me when I took the plunge
I forgave yet did not ask for forgiveness
became able to love and allow to be loved 

today I swim with hot passion once more
accept the good with the bad
found peace and moments of serenity
enjoy enchantment and gratitude

no witch craft at all
but a fairy tale story
narrated by a cauldron
of magical proportions

Nirvana

it used to be chaotic havoc in his mind
until he cleared out carnage and debris

with it went wreckage and resentments
from fear and insecurity rose serenity

neither thoughts emotions nor judgement
not unpleasantly a moment full of emptiness

One Goal: Practice Gratitude

“When I started counting my blessings, my whole world turned around” -Willie Nelson

              Life has been good
        even with all its ups and downs.
      However, I believe the last few years
        have hit many souls hard.
  I know I’m one of them, for I’ve been complaining
  about things in life over which I’ve no control,
    such as my chronic conditions
  and unfortunate family situations.

              I must lose all
        my resentments and bitterness.
      There is still so much to be grateful for.
  I must give more time to
  giving God my gratitude when I pray to Him.
  Also, I should pray more often and on my knees -
        not simply as I drive my car.
  I will kneel daily to thank God for my blessings.

Tick-tock - Tick-tock

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. That’s the sound of life.
Ever-ticking, counting down,
A soundtrack for our fleeting days.

We have this old Russian clock at home,
A rusty relic, its hands creaking,
Telling stories of a life lived and lost.

It stops sometimes. 
Dead in its tracks.
No tick, no tock. 
Just silence.
A silent echo of the silence that’ll greet us all.

That clock, man, it’s a damn prophet.
It whispers secrets in the dead of night: “Don’t wait.”
“Mend the broken bridges,?before they’re swallowed by time’s endless tide.”

Each chime is a reminder,
a punch in the gut:
“Tick-tock. You got work to do.”

I have unfinished apologies to give,
forgotten birthday calls to make, resentments to shed, and hearts to heal.

Because one day, the clock’s gonna say "Checkmate."
The final chime will fade, and you’ll be left with only echoes of “What if?”

Don’t let the clock win.
Turn your time into gold,
make each moment count,
mend what's broken,
love with abandon,
and embrace the dance of life,
before the music stops.

The Flames

The flames burn
no, it is the kindness of fire,
the lick of passion.

The flames burn so -
it is love,
it is hate,
it is all those resentments held
in the clawed fingers of hurt.

The flames will kill you
no, they will keep you safe
in the fiery ovens of birth and rebirth.

Your sandalwood soul is burning,
no, it is the world that is the flame
you are the sweet scent of life
life is the kindle
without you there would be
no pleasure, nor suffering.
The flames feed upon you
and you on them...

beat your chest,
howl your holiness
like you, 
within you,
your God is aflame,

be glad of it all.

The Unforgiven Are Those Who Reside

the unforgiven are those who reside
in the bliss of resentment
decades can pass and yet
they return to the repetitive accusation
the wind at the door
that never changes its tune
the one the garden rejoices in
when it leaves
the one in the furrows of the brain
where expectations run rampant
in possession of self-delusions
this is how existence should be
forgive, forget, and move on
are steps in the furrows
to heal that within
we learned that long ago from a cross
we were not meant to bear it
we were taught to conquer it
this is lost on the unforgiven
failing to forgive the reflection
where expectations birth resentments
decades devoted to the failure of both
the acerbic conversations of the unforgiven
are the entertainment of misery
for the emancipated who let God deal with it

   Oregon   8/23

No Anchor For Rancour

No anchor for rancour would do us all good.
Malice and bitterness should have no place
in this world of ours. We need brotherhood -
with love and forgiveness – our saving grace.

Take your resentments and any ill will.
In a container place them air-tight
till that container you no more can fill.
Pack them in darkness away from the light.

No anchor for rancour. Maliciousness
must have no hold on us all any more.
We must be free of all viciousness,
guided by love to a new shining shore.

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