Ridiculed Poems | Examples

Tears Of A Clown

     Yesterday is gone
     Today to run
      Tomorrow will wait
       also to smile at
       the veteran mocker
      or the jubilant joker.

     But tears of a clown
     always to roll down 
     with heart beats of the joker :
     A veteran mocker.

     Dull days  are spent by the Joker.
     A veteran mocker
     amusing the spectators 
     hiding his tears
     flowing continuous 
     with each heart beat
     making himself fool simultaneous,
      showing himself ridiculous.

     It's his job
     none to listen his heart throb :
     always to be ridiculed by mob .
     Tears of a clown 
      rolling down
      in opulence ,
     intense or immense 
     yet hidden
    as forbidden 
    to express !
     His strain and stress

The Trumpet of Parrots

If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor – Desmond Tutu

The Trumpet of Parrots

Patriots rally to the trumpet sound,
its blare echoes the lies that bigots breed.
Perched in power, pipers, in pretence gowned,
their hatred spreads, disguised as noble creed.

They stoke the tribal fire in ancient scars,
while hissing hypes to mask the stench of greed.
Their chorus of lies taints Venus and Mars,
who like pawns follow blindly the king’s lead.

Their victims vilified and ridiculed.
Protesters branded as dregs of the state,
by troops of diehards loathsome and unschooled,
As crony capitalists preach their hate.

So, mark the flock that flaps where conscience sleeps:
A nation full of parrots gently weeps.

Motherhood

Smile, Care, Love unconditional,
sacrifice
Mother, so should be

Smiling, Caring, loving, sacrificing,
bearing it all
Mother, so she was

Burdened, ridiculed, caught up 
in tangles,
Struggling to find a way out
Mother v/s I

Thinking, questioning, fighting, 
making her way
Mother in pursuit
Father, brother, sister, mother all can
mother
Mother is not alone
Mother is not just she
Mother is duty, a ritual, a celebration
to share

Untitled

Tied up
Condemned to death
Cursed
Spat on
Guilty of being alive
No escape
Fugitive of life
Slave to desires I'll never get
Beaten
Bruised
Forgotten
Cast in the deepest cage
Loud cheers
Happy faces
Denigrating stares
Scourged
Ridiculed
Scorned
Like a lamb to the slaughter
Chided
Derided
Covered in sores
Noose around my neck
One
Two
Third
Cut.

Don't Eat That Violin - Chagall

marc chagall's equestrienne

                         don't eat that violin

painted in 1933

                          like something dreamt

strange&mysterious

                          chagall's imagination 

full of color&movement

                            a celebration of paints


strange images

                            a horse eating a violin

dreamlike vision

                            melancholy&delightful

emotional& poetic

                           some ridiculed it

he kept painting

                           &became famous

tuesday morning laundry

tuesday morning laundry
.
he had waded out into the waters
del mar in the morning was quiet
and he certainly was not on the sea of galilee
.
he had a pole in his hand
and stood quietly still before the lapping sea
ankle deep, 
just enough that i could see he wasn’t standing on top
of the waves
.
the rising morning sun cast a nice reflection
on the water-beaten sand and there he stood
perpendicular to himself
.
and that’s where i saw him
ridiculed
in the midst of defiant waves
.
it had to happen soon
as the rising sun folded into a colorful collage 
the sky told him that he had never met Jesus
.
then colors dipped into a flowing sky
soft seafoam poured onto the sand
as the fisherman stood empty handed
.
his untested pole pointed to heaven
while perpendicular to himself
he stood quietly still on the smooth sand
.
as the morning unfolded
like laundry on a tuesday morning  
until, repentant, he wept
.
at last the golden sunset
wept into the sea until darkness prevailed
and the sound of breaking waves
.
was only silence
.
.
© tolbert

? The Question and Answer

I must be the only
Living being 
To understand that 
Question  exists

For in the path gone
It seems my 
question remains
Unanswered 

Remains ridiculed 
So what makes 
Any sinner better 
than me as sinner?

Am I the only
sinner in this entire world?
And the rest of humanity 
Are the perfect glorified...

What the perfect glorified
Requires answered 
Is that God forgave me 
Long ago...

To learn rather than judge
to focus on self-mirrors 
They were provided
If you want to pray for me

Pray for my prosperity

Innocense

I remember feeling inadequate, but I also remember the fierceness I felt, 
That out of all the people surrounding me, I wasn't meant to protect anyone else, 
I felt completely ridiculed, but the feeling that I felt was so strong, 
God told me I want you to remain silent, while I loved you all along, 
I knew opinions would get in the way, because I watched how they were quick to throw judgment,
And it did not matter how pure my intent was, they would have turned it around to block it, 
The cautiousness in the air was so thick, like a fear that would not let go, 
And every day I would pray for your protection to see the truth and grow, 
I saw the innocence of your heart, a love that was so strong, 
It blew me away and I knew that's why you were gone for so long, 
And through it all you still held on, and stood for the love you believed, 
The courage you showed, man of God, was unlike anything I've ever seen, 
So forgive me if I love you more than I should, because your heart brings tears to my eyes, 
You will always have my friendship, I will always stand by your side.

Bored with Nature

      Bored with nature, I spurned the gay meadow
        Stepped on ladybugs, swatted butterflies
      Turned my back on creation
        Complained of blue skies

      Scorned the sun’s rays, ridiculed the moon
        On a picture-perfect day said, “Go away, June”
      Opened my device to see what I’d missed
        ~ A heart-stopping photo of a lake bathed in mist

The judgemental selves

Don’t let the darkness sink in
Within a blaze of pain and of fire
You will be ridiculed
You feel how we feel

 Hot and yet unbearably cold
With limited sense of remorse
No-one will arrive

You are your own messiah
You are your own
You yourself are your own judge
Your own jury

You are complacent 
Yet you do not know what it means
You are the mask I wear
I fake envisionment 
I fake the trust I put,
Within you

Believe in myself I say
Trust within yourself,
They say!

Do not give in
Within yourself is your own path
Is your own sustenance
Believe in no one

Yet they beg for yours
Do not give in

You are worth,
MORE!!!!

Beyond Weird

Undeniably these are weird times for US all
Maybe they have been for a very long time
Where the hard working and law abiding 
Are used and abused, ridiculed and punished 
But now it’s beyond weird
Where those who come illegally
Are given a red carpet
Flown around, deposited at five star hotels
Given thousands a month in handouts 
And slaps on the wrist 
When they steal and assault anyway
In thanks for our kindness.
And when we, bearing the costs, complain
Then we are the bigots, the racists
Fascists, and, well frankly, garbage.
While those who come seeking refuge 
Are recognized as the princes and princesses 
They really are
In this fairy tale fantasy of El Norte.

Viva la revolucion for it is here and now
Forget your protests
Dance and celebrate while you can
For in the morning there will be work to do
And streets to clean, of all these rats 
And their rotting pumpkin carriage. 

(11/9/24)

Dawn Raid v2

A sudden crash awakens the night.
Thundering boots stomp,
heightening fear.
Little spots of light dart across the room. A half-naked man, bewildered and angry,
a wall of blue invaders violated his castle.
Pinned to his bed, with a truncheon to his throat,
he hears a woman's hysterical pleas for mercy, 
unaware of their crimes.

A singular figure stands tall, self-righteous,
demanding their passports in an authoritative voice.

" Are you married to this woman?" 
" Are you a permanent resident?"

These are the questions asked by the invaders.

If this sounds familiar, you would be wrong,
New Zealand in the 60s. One of her proudest moments?

Once dubbed the land of milk and honey of the Pacific,
inviting her poorer cousins to part-take in her fortune.

Then she ridiculed and scorned her guests,
labeled overstayers by her gracious host,
with the blessings of her white populace.

My fellow countrymen do not wish to be reminded of such events.
In this land of milk and honey, covered in sheep dip.

It is good to remember, in case we forget and repeat,

Lest we forget the lessons of our past.

Addressing the world today

As I sit here in my home and watch my children grow
I worry for the future and wonder what will come
I take the time to educate and teach my child to know
Of the differences within this world and what person they'll become 

We talk about the things in life that they will come to find
That unfortunately their world is full of injustice and poverty
I teach them about empathy and how to become kind
And encourage them to think about the world they want to see 

They'll witness racism on the streets and won't just walk on by
They'll feel the indignation and anger of being ridiculed
For their sex or gender type but they'll hold their heads up high
They'll stand for justice and equality and they'll not be fooled 

If they want peaceful lives and the world to keep on turning
At every opportunity they need to embrace and give love
They need to build their knowledge and always keep on learning
But also to promote this peace and give hatred the shove

POSITIONED PAST RESIDUE SURVICAL-

Been incarcerated in a house;
Displeased in surrounding clout;
Walls sadden painted windows covered in 50's paint;
Ridiculed and stagnated
Accustomed to be alienated
 I walk outside still alive vertical choice
 I received my voice
Contemplating
Residue survival

10/10/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024

Reignite - Promethea

The slowly imploding borders of an ancient empire,
lights flickering in a vast array of circuitry,
a battered starship adrift in the inky void-

our Church.

Yet, though the titaness is harried, old, and worn down,
shrinking, ridiculed, belittled, and cursed,

She is still strong...

A network of vast potential, seemingly obsolete and crumbling,
could bloom again with the radiance
of a thousand suns.

Break the yoke of lethargy.
Dust off the great gears.
Blow a spark back into her heart-

and shall we not soon see a great white flame
roiling out of the darkness
as the sullied bride
bathes once again
in holy fire!


1 October 2024
written ~9:40-9:51 PM CST

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