Short Reviled Poems
Short Reviled Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Reviled by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Reviled by length and keyword.
Expressions of grief,
the eyes of a child
An ending in sight
—all nature reviled
(McCarran Airport: January, 2020)
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
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
Form:
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
Mr. Kelcie posted a selfie,
That swiftly went all viral.
In it he said he’d like to be wed
In a suit of chiefly red.
His tailor didn’t sing along.
Reviled by his lack of style,
Claimed she wouldn’t stitch a thread
On a suit of chiefly red.
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!
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
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)
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
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.
***
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.
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
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
moon drunk cleric
let them fall by your hand
their design esoteric
they will make their last stand
as the dim from what's new
falls over their heads
and they lie under you
they will wish they were dead
do not hesitate
daughter of peace
carve blood in blank slate
your control musn't cease
moon drunk cleric
do not falter, my child
do not say that you'll spare it
leave your wound, be reviled
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
Is there hope when it’s hopeless?
Is there peace when it’s wild?
Is there love when I’m hated?
Is there joy when reviled?
Can I find what I’ve longed for?
Can I ever succeed?
Yes, most certainly, always,
If to Jesus I plead!
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His abundant mercy has begotten us again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” 1 Peter 1:3
I don't know my father or my mother.
Do I see my sister and my brother
in this lovely garden here?
Who is the scruffy, scraggly stray?
Who invited him here, anyway?
(Oh, my goodness! Oh, my dear!)
I did not ask to sprout and be born.
thought the lonely weed, forlorn,
so thoughtlessly reviled.
About then, Jack Frost would arrive,
saying, "May the heartiest of you survive",
leaving only something wild.
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
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.
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
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.
Form:
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
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