Scourging Poems | Examples

Another Sonnet - Apr 21

A(nother) (Sh*tty) Sonnet

Cute girl who works the local liquor store
counter, I wonder sometimes how I strike
you.—am I happy in your eyes?—do you like
to speak, when daily, as a steady chore,

I stroll onto your heavenly sales floor? 
(You said it was another day (yes fake)
‘in paradise’, in answer to my joke.—
—and then I left with my usual four.). 

Reality looks (more (something)) like this:
biting my nails until they burn like hell,
eating my nervous thoughts,—binging and purging
on romance,—and on a deathly scourging 
of emotional detachment. O’, belle,
there’s nothing more I miss than someone‘s kiss.

Living With the Enemy

Truth’s not just in the beauty of our trees
cherry blossom
it’s pervading bouquet 
the falling confetti 

Truth’s whatever hangs from the tree
like branches 
and fruit 
perhaps that lynched refugee

Truth’s also insidiously part of the tree
toxic leaves 
poison bark
spears used in our savagery 

Truth’s sometimes hidden by the tree
shallow roots 
slithery snakes 
the rotten core we cannot see

Truth’s deeply carved into the tree
a lovers name
the idolised hero
our past disgrace of being monkeys 

Truth’s symbolism comes from the tree
a carpenters son
the scourging whip’s handle 
burning cross of supremacy 

So what truth do we represent to the tree
maybe it’s master
could be it’s slave 
More than that! we’re the common enemy 


By David Kavanagh

Our Lords Passion, Death, Resurrection N Ascension

Jesus Christ suffered a bloody sweat
 a cruel scourging
 was crowned with thorns and was crucified
Christ died on Good Friday
Christ suffered and died for our sins
Christ rose from the dead
Glorious and immortal
On Easter Sunday
The 3rd day after His death
After 40 days Christ ascended into heaven
The day on which He Ascended into heaven is called the Ascension day

The Haunted Broken and Beleaguered Soul

The Haunting Of A Broken Spirit And Beleaguered Soul.
.

Her pricing haunting blood shocked eyes 
Reflect her heavy rain cloud acid corroded  heart
And spirit broken beleaguered soul
Although in the summer of her blossoming youth
She aged beyond her tender gifted years
Life has took it’s scourging toll 
And she can no longer hold back
Her floods of painful tears
.
The bombshell blast that devastated and destroyed her life
Left her shell shocked unable to piece together
The shards and carnage left behind
Her dreams have turned into nightmares
Her bed but a bed of nails her broken spirit tied to the mast
She once dreamed of idle lush green bejewelled meadows
But now dwells in a mine field in total darkness
And with every breathe and step she takes
She feels the blast
. 
Snared and tangled in a cobweb
The more she riddles the more she's tangled
Her hapless struggle is all in vane
She stands on the ege of oblivion
And welcomes an end to her bitter anguish and pain.

.
Peter Dome©2021.

Do You Remember Part 2

It must be sacred; Grace, stay. 
In Execution,
a Sacrament blessed nakedface-under 
God"s matchmaking; time and place.
Introduction, inducing Actors in the play 
of Life-_, induction.
Converging space.
Scourging liars.
A romance of chronomancing, 
counting you, pinning you down 
under breasts of Maternity and feeding you 
by its Milky White Dew.

  Do you remember when the atmosphere 
 was 
 electric and strangely comfortable, 
that day?
  A Communion; precept of tuning in, 
       in frequency, rapidfire.
  Mind balloon is in Celebration.
    Gifts are in their station.
        Counting sired.
VIP access in entry into your private places 
exclusively gained. 
But here is the adventure paved-granted; 
heroism, faith-planted
and Integrity's mystery pained.
Unfurl the Truth. 
Peal the layers of Union delivered,
stay in the execution of executings way.
Proof.
That.
Jesus Saves.

In Every Way.
Deliverance.
Remembered.

Possible - Impossible

When I was young, oh life,
the breeze of your dreams gently caressed 
my enchanted innocent heart 
making it believe that all it wished for was 
within the reach of the possible.
 
With the passing of unforgiving time though 
and the coming of inescapable old age, 
the scourging sun of merciless reality   
evaporated youth's illusion: 
Of impossibility's nonexistence!








©  Demetrios Trifiatis 
     12 December 2019

Echoes In a Dirge

They are all gone, long gone,
Crossed beyond the great
 Rubicon
Yet echoes of their names comes
 and goes like a beacon.

Imagination playing on my senses
I am ready to accept the unreal
Dumping the surreal events deeply
 buried,
In memory crevices that don't 
 breakdown.

Echoes of a dirge refusing to fade
 away;
Thrusts from the past to the present 
 as in a cascade
All playing on my imagination's
 facade.

Voids so deep, time lingering 
 to have its fill.
Past and presenting a mix of
 bittersweet thrill

Lamentations ever persistent none
 to succour.
A daily scourging of the present living
 none to favour

Transition of my friends the hereafter 
 on my mind.
A thin line between the great divide,
 a Rubicon to find
Echoes in a Dirge.
(Written 16th January, 2016)

Elders'Watch

I just have to watch, 
painstakingly watch and watch, 
to see how the loins of a man, becometh 
faceless! 
You say faceless? Yes! Nay! 
For my thoughts betray my heart, 
I have to sit and watch how a graveyard turns cradle. 

Is it for the love of women? I dare not day. 
We all battle different gods for victory,
yet, we battle in strength and wits! 

I've seen the puffs, 
I know the smell, 
I hear the moans - 
It tickles me hard! 
Yet, it rings; scourging to and fro, 
down the moments, I row. 

No bitterness in my lair, 
yet, I must watch. 
For wits gained in seeing, 
hearts forget not. 

Wits gained in experiences, 
the soul cling always to.

Dark Ages

Mass effect, men refuse to learn from the past
Leaving little hope for our futures
Arrogance and supremacy has always stood the test of time
The actions of the kill giving underling misery
Irrational words converge the start of war and detest, never changing for centuries
The gift of independent thinking, are greatest asset, led to slaughter and bloodshed
Notorious for causing harm to all we know
In conclusion we are the seeds of repeating cycles of plagues
Scourging the lands for resources causing panic
Because of this thousands have died
To this day, never changed, it’s all just a haze
Hideous graves, we never caved, dark ages
Now the damage is done, torment and torture
Showing off the power you possess but all I see is injustice that is ruinous
This has been seen by the past
Truthful words of the future, incoming corrupting chaos
Brutality leads the poor to insanity
Grasping the little life that is worth holding
Sinister minds, lead the blind, cringing out insidious crimes
Anguish and strife, incoming spite
Do you feel in powered being scum?
The scars of obliterating leaving denial
Are planet is expiring with mass funeral pyres
To be unseen

An Adieu That Hurts

Yes,my sin swallowed me;
Like the toad-the adder's meal.

When first you summoned me:
Even of your love to feel.

Loan was your Love and assests;
You'd siad; 'Maybe he'll be an asset'.

But after the Lent love laced with
life,
Pride weighed me down with strife:

Pulling me off your standard.
Scourging me even with your
absence.

Thy soft palm seasoned with
fragnance,
Elating my heart,ushering me into a
trance.

The smiles of your face glazed with
honey,
Sweetening my soul,costier than
money.

The lyrics of they words,
Ringing yet,whipping my ears for
the odds.

How can i get back on the stairs;
I'm made equal with tears.

Even if not to fill the former field.
Just let the torn soul again mend be.

Come again,ho my princess:
How long will you scold me with
your absence.
       17:14:11:10:00

Molested Humans Are the Norm

Rape will always be rape, be it 'stranger' or 'friend, '
Be it soldier or priest; it is still about shame! 
Just a dollop of power and perps seek the weak, 
And their purpose is always to sully one's name.

Dreams of rape invite prey to be victim no more, 
For the weak ones "recovered," now bring others pain, 
True, some scapegoats get punished, the few who get caught, 
But the truth is quite simple; our species not sane! 

Rape's no longer just physical, now social norm, 
Every bride that sells self or sold, womb's meant for birth, 
While society screws hapless men sent to war, 
Robbing all souls of empathy, scourging the earth.

Anyone claiming they're 'untouched' likely a liar, 
Be you son or a daughter; there's price to be paid.
A child born out of wedlock has bastard for dad, 
But there's never a winner in such escapade.

It's no wonder some leaders look like Donald Trump, 
The high priest of the angry, he laughs at their trust, 
Likely raped by his family, wanting revenge? 
The psychotic just laugh, need no psychiatrist.


Long Tooth
August 5,2017

I Thank You Lord

I thank you, Lord, 
For every drop of blood
That spilled from you
The day that you died.
For every bruise…
For every snap of the whip,
That fell on your back
As you cried.

I thank you
For the mocking and scourging,
And blasphemy that you endured.
For the crown of thorns placed upon your head,
For each nail that tore your flesh,
And the spear that pierced your side,
After you were dead.

I thank you
For being obedient even unto death,
When you had power to deliver yourself.
For humbling yourself by coming into the world,
And dying for us on a cross… the cruelest death.

Lord, I thank you.






Written 4/7/17

Word Challenge, Early Life Challenges

Word challenge, early life challenges


I now look back at the insanity of going to an all girls school
where in reality the christian sister's teachings reflected a
harsh brutality of a group of women, dressed in black, carrying
votive candles of tempers filled with volcanity and fatality. I
mourn those past days, where my mentality took profanity
from their voices and urbanity masking their calling, as they flogged 
me for my sins with belts and paddles striking my soul to the core, 
my vitality. I may have morality sinned. Yes.Yes, I do concede 
my inanity at scourging the sister's landscape, filled with their 
mundanity  of tenets. Yet the scars in their faces of humanity, 
scars of pain left on me, where just a sad formality in their eyes 
and teachings.

connie pachecho

1/22/17

Suicide By White Horses

Strong white riders saddled atop tempestuous verdant freckles,
roil like flecks of spittle across a horses hard ridden muzzle.
The charging equine manes of the waves thrash the tormented sea livid, 
towards the perfect storm

Vicious white caps wait for foolhardy prey to cross their path.
An obliging soul stands upon the quay, eyes anchored upon
the maelstrom.
Breath synchronised,
to the seething ebb and flow of earth's pulsing feud with its moon. 

A rush,
to join the dance of scourging testament to roughened waters
brings panicked breathing at the bottom of light-starved troughs. 
Where the crashing sounds of retribution meets the ears 
and a vengeful smothering of mouth stills the breath. 

A pointless struggle where none exists, and the triumphant sea
has its victim. 
The victim? A solution

Shining Gods of Poisoned Seas

Shining Gods Of Poisoned Seas

How utterly useless are the sincere Pleas
 to the shining Gods of poisoned seas
Words sent forth on a great ray of Hope
 find blank images in an empty scope
Longings so in tune to vanities of Man
 greed and lusts in each wishful plan
Dark desires in each and every Request
 selfish wants for only the very best

How vain are man's deepest dark Desires
 evil wrapped in armor in raging fires
Deeds hidden from the scourging of Light
 oft carried out by messengers at night
Evil that lingers as it eats the Host
 preparing the victim for coming roast
Tortured cries that will only this Seal
 sad food for a famished beast's meal

How utterly useless are the sincere Pleas
 to the shining Gods of poisoned seas!

Robert J. Lindley

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