Short Reviled Poems

A homeless, sad child
wanders the cold, urban wilds:—
feels lost...and reviled....

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I went to wilds and faced its reviled ire for the one to see it done and free this liar...

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Expressions of grief,
the eyes of a child

An ending in sight
—all nature reviled

(McCarran Airport: January, 2020)...

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I
Last week, funeral
You heard Nature reviled here
But Neem Tree gave life

II
This week, two new pets
Chicken Little, who comes in nights --
Angel, power-lady dog, outside...

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Life above expectation
Was just my imagination
   With the equal
Of servility with a
Hardy expectation
But, then my Soul
Was cast
And laid to being
Reviled anew

          GF...

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nature has its place of  worth,
human must endure no dearth,
for we are natures child,
predator oft reviled,
though bloodlust be reversed,
not far away the distant wild,
remains immersed...
Don

re: Let the eagle alone
HONESTY OIMBO...

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The word of GOD is pure and undefiled,
even if you become reviled.

The word of GOD is truth and light,
even if your heart has no sight.

The word of GOD is life,
even though you know strife.

The word of GOD is sure and steadfast,
and within it's truths we will stand!...

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EXPLULSION

Twisted portrayed
Lathered relayed
Unkept unpaid
Human unmade

Demon drawn
sunken within
Drenched in sin
Forbidden to live

Expelled expulsed
Repelled repulsed
Reviled exiled
Refired expired

purge the mighty soul
Rid the toxic mould

Beauty to behold...

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To never change a mind that’s closed
or stroke the lion’s mane
With fate embedded, etched in stone
you’re left with what remains
In tunnels dark and burrowed deep
you hide from nature’s wrath
Whose last denial, truth reviled
—reseeds the garden path

(The New Room: July, 2022)...

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Our wise God 
the Father, no facade.
He gives us choice in all we beguile.
Though our sinful ways are visited on our child,
our child has the same choice as we in sin reviled.
Angel of Darkness conspiring ill,
Satan, his realm to fill,
twists free will.

© May 21 2010 For Jared’s “Trois Par Huit” contest...

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The Crow
                              by Frank Halliwell..

He's cursed by men from sea to sea,
He's hunted and exiled.
He's hated by most everyone,
And everywhere, reviled.
His morals are not those of men,
Nor will our wishes change him,
He's bold as brass! - He's black as night!
He's just as his god made him.
                      ***...

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Demons of the sky.
The crow for one,
Pigeon, petrel, thrush
Included in the list.

Pesky, reviled, disliked
Demons of the sky.
Should they go extinct
Surely they’d be missed.

Superior skills
Perfected to survive.
Demons of the sky
Not to be dismissed.

Their pompous presence
Resilient to incursion.
Stubbornly they exist.
Demons of the sky....

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He gave long sermons 
     and spoke to the
 congregation 
in measured tones
     Gone now these many 
years
   His memory lives on 
        in the heart of the congregation 
Some reviled him 
     but he persisted 
with his writings, with his 
   teachings
A blessing for his memory 
    should be spoken 
         by those who have survived 
Rabbi Harold Swiss...

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Terry in name of religion
Burned a book that wasn’t his’n
May he ever be reviled
By the country he’s defiled.

He knew well foul deeds would follow
By extremists just as shallow.
Our God and their’s (perhaps the same)
Weep at horror in their name.

Terry, untouched by our laws
Well may tremble just because
Judgment calls are not his biz.
God reminds us, those are his.


By Joyce Johnson...

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Dementia Schizophrenia

Dementias' child is oft reviled,

in voices judgement way,

another personality cramps the style,

when nasty comes to play,

Dementia loosens of mind grip,

lucidity disappears,

the personality away does slip,

a vacancy is here,

control returns on Lucid terms,

and all is sweet today,

surfaced like a “whale of sperm ,”

oh bloody “hip hooray”....

Don Johnson...

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When hunger becomes 
a little god. You start waiting 
for a miracle to happen. 
Like a grandfather clock, you 
had stopped moving. Time 
becomes a scoop from your ancestor’s 
skull. You start digging 
the floor for broken pins, 
holding the secret prayers. 
You watch yourself now 
buried in words, picking up 
some flowers with numb 
hands, waiting for the ants 
to come, to open the 
curved in, corona of narcissus.


Satish Verma...

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He hops & skips at my feet.

Searching tarmac for discarded worms.
One foot, one stump.

Reviled by most who walk past unseeing.
I drop a crumb.

Giving him only more reason to pursue his urban dream.
Silly city pidgeon.

Little pidgeon you dont belong in the city.
I have fed not you but a misguided pursuit.

Send your chicks to the country.
Where they will hop & skip in joy not deformity.

He hops & skips at my feet. I blink and walk on....

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Thinking I knew you from your smile
you wormed your way in with guile
my bete noire*, my bogey man
long of tooth and without a clan 
I let you in, a worm with style.

le grand faux pas*, angel vile,
seeming weak, yet, so versatile.
Hobgoblin of dread, bogey man 
Thinking I knew

Shrink back now into your defile
of sagging skin and toothy smile.
But, I have seen a reviled hand
and my open heart still here stands
wishing sweetness all the while
Thinking I knew...

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My prayers I offer, Lord
They are like incenses brimming heavenly casks
Might is in your words
Aided, I rivers ford
Gratify us children as we ask

A long diseased child
A mother's arms released me at your hands
Garments long defiled
That mortal men reviled
Your arms enclosed, a beautious garland

An undeserved prize
My tattered garments smother in light
Uncompensated cries
That world did but despised
You did not deem so little in your sight

For yours I am by right....

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Each limb coiled like a serpent
 In his painting "The tree of life'
 His brushstrokes bare the naked truth
 of Adam and Eve
  In a garden where lies were conceived 

 He captured a moment of bliss
 In an artistic expression entitled "The Kiss'
 which was in his gold leaf phase -
  Sensual imagery imbued his art
 Symbolic perceptions enhanced his style
 Metaphors with brushstrokes he did impart
 With seductive suggestions that some reviled
                     
 11-16-17...

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The keyboard
Waits with anticipation
For eager fingers
To type

Wordpad
Remains devoid
Of words
Written

The mind
Once always buzzing
Is a cacophony
Of silence

A silent mind
Has arrived on writer's block
Where many writers
Suffer

The verse
It's so very elusive
Oh come my way
Dastardly verse

Perhaps
I am indeed a vile villain
To be reviled
By words

The irony
Is by struggling to find words
I found them in my
Silent mind

...

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