Short Reprisals Poems
Short Reprisals Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Reprisals by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Reprisals by length and keyword.
He was a troublesome kid,
Who punched the others and hid
If this wasn't safe, off slid
To be of reprisals rid...
Venturesome troublesome kid,
Who pot distances from lid
And could 12:00 pm from Mid;
A Life of the Twisty Grid
A street wise worldly - wise kid,
Who torched things and asked "who did?"
Nigeria's Grid of A kid?.
Reprisals are sharp thorns from stabbing tongues
causing deep wounds that may never heal.
Regrets are sown in the seams of a guilty mind
where no salve can reach, and scars remain.
November 16, 2021 ~ Liberum Divisa 8 Contest
Taken from the poem: Reprisal or Regret ~ 2016
Contest Sponsored by Gregory Richard Barden
Love isn't conditional
It's not what you yearn
Love's only given
It's not based on return
Love doesn't fear
Reprisals or shame
It's not on condition
You're loved back the same
Love knows no bounds
Let it fly, enjoy
Regardless of whether
You get the girl or boy
Love and let go
Be proud you can be
Loving and giving
Absolutely
Seems that violence is ramping up everywhere
as Christmas approaches, the world against Jews
Where are the 'Purveyors of Peace,' why won't they speak out
I guess they fear reprisals if they ‘make news’
Just expressing my views ~
But by holding their tongues
Purveyors ensure more violence to come
Sitting in ivory tower
you will watch a tragedy
of epic nicknames.
In future of reprisals
there was a culture of hate.
A solar hit will claim the frenzy.
It was a naked death
of a stolen whip, at
high speed game of sex.
A new wrinkle appears
on the headless body,
after the wow, oh wow !
Why did you take my
name for your name ?
After all what is in a name.
Satish Verma
The movers wheeled the piano in the apartment
my tutors revealed plateaus climbed as an artist
hours flying pages turned black and white keys charted
scoured trying ages I played packed plight I started
recitals, concert halls, from practicing hardest
reprisals, my art calls, the piano sits modest
In my twilight years I teach children to harvest
the wild bright light nears, to each the piano harnessed
revenge is served cold
with malice in cold steel knife
beside three-pronged fork
hate needs patience to mature
like a ripe blue-vein Stilton
anger sets the feast
memory seasons each course
with bitter chilli
sprinkled to sharpen revenge
as hunger outwaits its prize
when the dish arrives
rust has reached the waiting knife
mould adorns the fork
the taste of blood turns bitter
in the gnash of grinding teeth
'To be or not to be' is the question of anonymity...
And yet I feel a word dropped In a kind ear
Is no more anonymous
Than one shouted
Aloud from the hill tops...
Those who wish to hear it , will hear
And those who don't won't
And for those who care?
Dare not talk for fear of reprisals
And so anonymity prevails
And no more words
Will fall into a 'kind ear'
Know no more!
Be gone you
Be gone you I say!