Short Berating Poems

Higgledy-piggledy
Newt Gingrich
So loved his country
He betrayed his wife.
Whilst berating Bill Clinton
Incontrovertibly.
His run for presidency
Now full of strife....

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Showers of much stress
Beating down on a stiff soul
Berating torn minds
The worn ideals of ones hopes
Still dangling by a lone string

Russell Sivey...

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"Suck Me! Yeah, that's right, suck me good and hard!"
The above is not a rape or scene from a prison yard.
That's a cigarette berating you as you inhale its toxic waste.
You Are In An Unhealthy Relationship, 
but a relationship you can successfully break....

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Awaiting tomorrow, so patiently still
Placating anxiety built up inside
Debating what outfit I need to prepare
Berating my fears as I push them aside
 
Perfecting my hair as I walk in the door
Expecting attraction, but something's askew
Reflecting on why the romance disappeared
Respecting our mutual friendship anew...

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Roast beef was fabulous!
I ate it so fast I could barely swallow.
Unfortunately it was insanely hot.
I am now suffering from burnt tongue.
This is day three. Almost thirty-seven hours later.
Why am I such a pig? I ask myself.
Grunting begins, and berating.
Louder and louder.
I laugh.
Shame no
longer works
on myself....

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I want to be.
Just to be.
No questions.
Answers.
Wondering, struggling.
Challenging.  Defying.
Beating the odds.
Beating the clock.
Berating myself.
For what I am,
And what I want.
For how to get there,
And how long it takes.
For all of us
Who have no voice,
And little choice.
Running faster
faster
On the hamster-wheel
of dreams....

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You mock me with one blinking eye,
that never ceases, never stops, never relents.
Berating me with it's ease of place
in stead of my lack of flow.
Words like iron, like bark or sap,
existing somewhere outside of my view;
alive in someone else's woods.
My forest is bleak, unyielding.
It offers no shelter, its fruit has no taste.
A skeletal wasteland that I once picked clean....

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Man o' mine, bravest o’ sailors,
singing sea shanties with death,
he wades through icy glaciers,
o’ the frostiest breath.

Cling to vein and steady this vessel,
doldrum this destine my love,
Jonah, thy mustn't wrestle,
with the goddess above. 

If waves won't wallow in waiting,
tears will not stop the storm,
cruel sea, ever berating, 
'til I'm a widow in mourn. 





...

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Remnants of Winters tendrils
reside upon the bare basalt cliffs.
Cornrows of ice cascade
washed by relentless rain.

Down pours the mana
of Spring, the Bride,
berating the laggard Winter;
expunging the beauty of ice.

The sunless muted morn aids
Winters grip on its crowning glory;
braiding wayward wisps of white
into crevasses.

The last, lingering, lustful
remainders of Winter.
The day before Spring begins....

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the angry words never stop
like a nail gun
the resentment seeps like a toxic
fume
between us
god I can't breathe at all
you follow me
berating and hollow about the house
demanding more
more 
more
theres nothing I can say that has not been said
I'd rather
slap you down the stairs instead
but I go outside and stand it the
field
until it passes
and you are inside
on the computer game
where you live now.



*For Kerry...

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wielding, slashing releasing my wrath
rhyming prose my double-edged sword
releasing all this pent-up anger
directed at my own weaknesses

berating, lambasting where it seethes
even though I saw, I failed to see
with every withdrawal and your repose
a shield you use to deflect my blows

the sweetest gift you could have left
this one I use to pen and reflect
the only one who has let me down
is the one in the mirror staring back...

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Silly Season
Written: by Miracle Man
8-3-2019

The Democratic debates,
Are the Media’s “silly season”
This constant Gum beating,
Goes beyond the age of reason

What makes the media think,
To know, the people, have need. 
Candidates berating one another,
While for our vote they plead.

With tongue in cheek,
They make promises that are token.
Believing “Promises are like pie crusts”, 
Just made to be broken.
...

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She wonders if she had been too hasty
Should she have given Richard another chance?
To put her down? To beat her?
But he was always sorry.
Tender and sweet afterwards
Begging her for forgiveness

She stared out of the slits of her eyes
Berating herself for leaving
He said he would never do it again.
He had been unbelievably kind and attentive during their courtship.
She wondered if she should pay for her pie and leave.
She was ready to give him another chance....

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Just staring at the sky
Turning red of setting sun
Of time creeping by
Staring at this hand, this gun
With shoulders heavy of carrying
With mind wary of worrying

Warm wind whisking
My curls in all directions
Watching skyline, drinking
In last time's near perfection
With eyes blindly following
With inner turmoil burrowing

As darkness creeps by
My mind forever waiting
Regrets it's wish and I
Put down the gun berating
With undecided doubting
With resigned resolving....

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