Short Desecrate Poems
Short Desecrate Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Desecrate by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Desecrate by length and keyword.
We’re upset when vandals
desecrate a cemetery
and disrespect the dead
not so much when doctors
vandalize the womb
and desecrate the living
Donal Mahoney
I abhor you, I loathe you, I hate you.
I desecrate you, contaminate you, violate you.
I abominate you, detest you, despise you.
I execrate you, denigrate you, deprecate you.
I am you.
Did Write A Duplicate
Each time I would wrote a duplicate,
Poets were perturbed and had big fit;
Me had to berate;
Poems desecrate;
They all suggested that I should quit.
Jim Horn
Salivating to desecrate
Her bones
In state
Lacking
Brains, Heart, Courage
The wizard
Capitulates.
9/21/20
For 'Paint a Picture - 7 Lines' contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Fallaciously inverting genuinely involute demented eras, voraciously tearing away
infinity. Absolute desolation befriends in an undermining attempt for desecrate
dilution. No longer will life be derived of the dementia and so begins the new
peripheries of bliss.
Had Collaborated
Could it be that we contemplated
And then put off and exacerbated
Clearly began to communicate
Thoughts and ideas not desecrate
Would be best to have collaborated.
James Horn
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
I am a warring spirit/
A fire looking for something it has lost./
I won't beg you for there is a reason.../
Reasons why things burn down the way they burn on so long./
Fade away from here.../
Desecrate my model fear./
Burning in my desire is, a thought sculpted crystal clear./
cuckoo bystander
hippies hound
desecrate passing
shrewdly badmouth
siegfried bobcat
wake european
spirits enlisting
the globally
fortuitousness by
reading rhythmic
confrontation dutifully
fluster fission
spat and
unite your
sourness unlearned
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
Decry and damn dualism,
for what has it wrought?
A delusion of soul,
of separation and isolation.
Minds absorbed in endless
effort to divide.
Let’s start again – tabula rasa,
and vanquish the mind
to the void where
thence it merges with
the Singularity – the place
where Beginnings begin.
i take the time, redesign, the mechanical, but maniacal , lucid flow, inside me .with no disguise in sight .. i motivate ,while i retaliate, permeate, while i desecrate. the catastrophe of this artistry limits me and humbles me, to make one sea, we all must be,, conjoined as one beneath the sun, its just begun so lets have some fun...
The law of the sick is to ungood.
To decimate the species.
To take what honors left in them
and desecrate their reicies.
To leave this place for all it's good
and fall without it's mercy.
An abdocate of every man
and make of throne or percy.
An insult to a greater God
of man or beast as worthy.
A testament of what's to come
nor what we'll leave more dirthy.
Definitions strain contends defensively
no obligation of restraint ~ creativity
lures its object, beauty, to the mind
and leaves insipidness behind, behind!
Nor desecrate as if alone
reactions tempered my unknown,
insolvent only as to loan
does liquify its purpose own!
Then dissipates as if my prone
were self existing, ne'er by sown ~
To live my art, I must condone
needs deprivation . . . for my poem!
Embellished wreaths and lace hang low, all chipped
As a shadow drifts like moth-eaten thread--
I wail! And in one rush, my life outstripped
On joyous Yuletide an ordeal instead:
While bells peal of lament I can't contain--
How our union sweet, the nights desecrate
A goodbye that is riddled with much pain,
When new stars entomb him---my song, my fate.
~
'JAN 2019 WK2 Contest
Death's curse rampant,
Death's blessings omnipotent,
Harvesting souls every tock
Still, empty tombs we see
Gravestones raised high
Bear no names,
A century of deathless deaths
Desecrate the graveyard
Grave faces tell grave stories,
An era wherein names were remembered,
When gravestones were revered.
Give ear to my opinion,
We are born to die,
So why fear the inevitable?
Living in cowardice,
We die meaningless deaths.
Of some consequence of late
i began to ponder the state
of feeble minds
stretching their binds
as they lay down to contemplate
how fickle this thing fate
it runs rampant to desecrate
free will and all entailed
the fragile free locked and jailed
under the yoke of destiny's mate
but with the strong there is hope
past the fires and darkness grope
remind thee that none is decided
both time and will are finely divided
so that we whom are free may cope
. for public domain
Sometimes we need a God to love,
to rattle the rafters up above,
to curse at, to blame,
to kneel before in utter shame,
a name to blaspheme, a name to scream,
a name to summon in a dream,
a name that withstands an insulting blast,
a name to call on when we breathe our last,
and whether this God is real or not,
a Scrooge aberration from a stomach knot,
we are made to call out, or curse our fate,
embrace in desperation what we desecrate.
An empty page lies before me
Pure and white, as all untouched things are
Soon to be covered with ink black as night
And I am the perpetrator
Is this a sin, to desecrate such innocence?
Should I regret the destruction I know will take place?
Destruction I will inevitably cause
Pure and white; an epitome of the light
Ink black as night; soon to smother without remorse
Hand shaking, feeling what Ink cannot
Ink is the weapon, nothing more
I am the monster; destroyer of the pure
Sickly sickly treacle trickley
seeps on, mouldering down the crock.
Stickily sticky it steadily, trickily
keeps on for many a round of the clock.
I wonder I wonder if I would turn green
Should I gutsily plunder its festering urn,
Or should I desecrate such a picnic-y scene
If I’d gently expire or clamorously burn.
Quickly quickly treacle slickly
Drippily dribbles down onto the floor—
‘Fore I can supply my sick wonder
The trickley treacle has trickled off and is no more.
you built a throne out of your own reflection, mistook your arrogance for eloquence,
try to resurrect what you helped desecrate,
your ego arrived before you did,
while your sense of self suffered
every silence was a threat.
you dissect with vocabulary
but cannot name your own loneliness.
you mistook softness
for submission,
pauses for praise.
and when I left,
you called it cowardice,
as if I hadn’t spent years
trying to decipher a man
who couldn’t even pronounce himself.