Short Cynics Poems
Short Cynics Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cynics by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cynics by length and keyword.
Posters painted
By law tainted
Rosaries rattling
Prayers prattling
Police swoop
Spirits droop
Whisked away
Because they pray
For children unborn
Innocent lives shorn
In abortion clinics
Cold cash for callous cynics
WONDER OF PHYSICS
I am traveling through the wonder of physics
There is nothing wrong with being critics
Are you understanding the meaning of off limits
Don't ever try to ignore the cynics
Tr?n Minh Hi?n Hien Tran Orlando May 26, 2016
Torrential complex emotions--
...uncovers honestys brutal
annihilation of cynics choking
on their confidence.
Ebbing pools of distrust
just got deeper.
The tragic spiral--
of stagnant imaginations,
of dank and diluted interaction.
Effect a cause,
expose the change...
Creatures of
spirit, poets are,
softness, invisibility,
things whose existence
extends in time.
Hard things,
of the eyes,
of the earth, of matter
are for cynics,
humorists and critics.
Poets are lovers,
engrossed in love
and memory of love,
in sad recollection,
and mourning.
Again from the shadows
Rises that scoundrel
Riding on envy
Armed with naked cynics
Dedicated not to betray
The Lord of hatred
For he is ordered
To scoff the adore
Yet he is unsure
About the shine that still hold
Eternal is the nature’s mystery
What comes in its way, becomes history.
~ Easter Haikus ~
baskets of bunnies,
eggs of brilliant colors,
some have no food
Jesus has risen.
many believed he would.
cynics, just snicker
4/1/2021
~4~
believers
devout, fervent
accepting, aiming, progressing
worshippers, devotees, persistent, cynics
disbelieving, bearing, confounding
agnostic, cautious
skeptics
Knock! Knock!! Knock!!!
Fright hit on my breath
like a prey with the predator
shoo! Shoo!! Shoo!!!
Even in my place of bed
seen has a egg shell
In a black man's world
I tried to be tendril like
but dwelling with cynics
can I have a grip of life?
Days are dying
my palm is empty
like a cast net with no fish.
Form:
The sky is grey
It's beginning to rain
The markets are down
The economy strains
There's more divorce
Than ever before
Men are still dying
In senseless wars
The cynics say
The earth is doomed
All you hear
Is doom and gloom
Hear what I say
Rise above the squalls
Because in the end
Love conquers all
I was made with an infinite depth of empathy;
a limitless capacity to sacrifice myself.
It has cost many years and countless tears
to realize
not all possess this character.
So now when I am betrayed and disappointed
by those self-serving cynics,
I no longer try to fix them.
I accept they are not worthy
of the chance to darken my soul.
Aye, the written word!
Dearly, my dearest friend
Bestow the meekest with thy power
Liberate thy most ignorant follower
And then to them
Make thee, great men
Aye, touché
To wisdom, to wit, to script
Tongue also sharp and dreadfully quick
But thus a pen mightier and ever brave
With one bold stroke, swift of quill
The most ardent of cynics, shall be swayed
The dream wanders far afield,
in search of a kindred tribe
that to cynics does not yield,
by princely sums not bribed.
Far and wide, it sees many a face
that it can scarce recognize,
specimens of a hybrid race
born of wanton compromise.
Oh where can it be, it wonders,
the kinship my heart craves.
As the sky dims and thunders,
it stumbles upon rows of graves.
Aye, the written word
Dearly, my dearest friend
Bestow the meekest with thy power
Liberate thy most ignorant follower
And then to them
Make thee, great men
Aye, touché
To wisdom, to wit, to script
Tongue also sharp and dreadfully quick
But thus a pen mightier and ever brave
With one bold stroke, swift of the quill
The most ardent of cynics, alas to be swayed
Cloaked in a Civil War Cape
Swaggered the fierce
And fearless and cavalier shape:
Proud Ambrose Bierce.
Editor, author and wit,
Bierce had the zest
And courage and cunning to fit
Well in the West.
Then when his days dwindled lean,
Bierce rode away;
Old Mexico swallowed him clean,
Gulping her prey.
Cynics like him are the last
Men to seek fame,
So bitterness out of the past
Still dims his name.
Both the ignorant and wise
Have the nerve to criticize
But I've heard the crocodile cries
And the smiley-faced lies
Of those New York cynics
I’ve been bloodied and bruised
Wrongly blamed and bemused
Now negativity’s infused
All my patience has been used
By those New York cynics
Now I step on those stones
That once broke my bones
But I’ve become one of those drones
Just another of the clones
Yeah, I’m a New York cynic
I completely trust Bob
On every tricky job,
For all that he knows,
The way his thought flows;
For his wisdom that grows.
Up Bob’s idea would bob,
From cynics snatching the power to rob…
Bob never was all his life, a half wit,
Even, The Best of The Really Fit,
Who could like a gas light
Keep a firm firmly bright
To all its corner lending a white!
So, please, do not him,
As advised by Lord Kim,
Cast into a Joseph’s pit;
Or our gains are already split!
I doubt myself,
And all my worth,
I hate this life,
And curse my birth,
No need to wait,
For my 6 feet of earth,
I’m already dead and buried,
In this hearse I call skin,
'Cause I’ve laughed for so long,
While I’ve cried from within,
So laugh with the cynics,
At all hopes that I’ll win,
'Cause victory is an illusion,
A mirage I can’t touch,
Why should I delude myself,
With visions of such?
I’d rather die a broken cynic,
Before using hope as my crutch.