Thrusted Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

The Power Of Zen

To carry life’s
complex messages
The structure 
must be simple

Like angle iron
at ninety degrees
the weight to never
buckle

A thrusted spear
a hammer punch
direction
short and measured

Effects most dire
with arrows fired
from bows
— most straight delivered

(Chief Joseph Highway: August, 2025)

Dearly Bought

Wielded 
like a
loaded gun
His phone
was thrusted
forth

Proof
of what
I knew 
was false
Refusing
all
discourse

Armed
with but
an empty 
tweet
Chosen
by a
bot

His mind
was trapped 
inside a myth
Whose fiction
dearly
— bought

(Rosemont College: April, 2025)

Shadows IV

The darkness settles in at 1400 and it is crying
It has deal with pain in a manner that is becoming burdensome
It is tired of all the disappoints and is still crying
Physical pain would be less burdensome

The connection of souls does not come to the lips
HOPE is lost and not in any universe
The constant disappointment has constantly from the soul taken sips
The possible love they had is only viewed as an unsuccessful verse

The constant and unpromising smiles
Have now become a sword thrusted into his heart
The pain has become constant Biles
The words and actions from your lips have failed to cause his heart to start

Once he falls asleep he’ll die
His heart is broken while you life goes bye.


Taunted by elements

Ocean thrusted at my feet 
The wind stroked my hair with gust
Fire sky; earth shake.

Premium Member Creamy

"Make it so creamy!"
I had screamed super loudly
As he had creampied me.
He had thrusted so deeply, 
As it spread down my tushy.

Premium Member rated XX l'il jane's l'il cousin

.
     Their thug chained
               mine
              whilst
        through storm's
                wet
                  i
            coughed

      'twuz the sunny
         the dirt wuz
              black
            and hot

      their thug thrusted
   mine in the ground hut
        with the naked
              jane's
          little cousin

             i meant
           her cousin
            yes i did


Crying

Crying

Crying, crying, crying broken hearts of a wounded soul,
maybe they're stories will be told, feeling lost and forgotten 
betrayed and falsely accused, still some how broke the 
chains of oppression and have been lifted upon the seas of freedom and heavy burdens we don't have too carry no 
more, and the memories of hatred will be thrusted from
your mind and forgiving will be always and sadness will
dwell no more in the hearts of man and shall live in 
harmony forever and ever.

O Victim of Stagnant Times

(Revised and changed) 

O victim of time's rage,
Of today's ill times and age,
Victim of nurtured false image!

O ye much-eulogized Goddess,
Deemed powerful and loving no less,
Few care if ye do or not bless.

If ladles and the like ye wield,
Home-making thrusted as your field,
Ye know, as field it fails to yield.

What power can wield your pots and pans?
Still, ye wield ah what techno yen!
In varied fields ye vie with ken.

And yet, nor are ye much empowered,
Nor yet with due fair respect heard,
Society hast your equity soured.

With a million things to meddle,
Tireless upon a sad saddle,
With what vigour ye still juggle.

O ye Home-maker so handsome,
Look at still your hubby’s ho-hum:
He says: she!  She just stays at home! 
________________________________
This ode addresses the plight of women at large as so-called home-makers. The last line highlights this. A man, when asked as to what his wife was doing, says, 'she just stays at home! Alas, times change and still stay stagnant!

Ode | 19.12.2019 |

Easter Poem

It's Easter let me praise his name first,
For he was burried in a tomb of stone and dust,
But on the third day He came to life atlast,
The angel rolled the stone; it didn't burst.

He was the only son of God,
He rode on a colt not a pod,
A spear was thrusted on His bod,
And His body was beset on shame by a horde.

He was crucified for our sins,
That's why we must praise Him with every means,
Preaching His Gospel from Cairo to Orleans,
Because it is on His scars our faith leans.

Lung Lightning

Thoughts which spark reaction
               Induce an odd phenomena
               Thrusted lung eruption
               Humour honourer

              Anomaly in everyday observation 
              Light hearted pleasure centre
              Imput turned exclamation
              Content connector

             Brain's fondle with mouth colliding
             Induces shoulder jump aerobics
             Family repertoire tidings
             Relaxed diagnostic

             May laughter be thy frequented medicine
             Imbibed each time tickled urge arrives
             Flowing dosage free to everyone 
             Vital juice of elated lives




             27th August 2020 

            Written for: Living It Up For Laughter
             
            Sponsor:  Chantelle Anne Cooke

Painful Than Rape

The day was blind with fog,
The thicker blanket of darkness left some hours ago,
The cry of a stray cat tore through the forest,
That was after a third shrill meow.

The bamboo-brown forest was a leafy paradise,
But he dragged her through the hellish path,
She screamed but he overpowered her,
He tore her undies and his hand covered her mouth.

She kept screaming while his bloodshot eyes watched her,
Fighting effortlessly with a dim hope,
Suddenly, he crushed her soul,
Tore her hymen and thrusted deeper inside.

The world slowly became blurry and dark,
The pains inside shattered her to shreds,
Her black mascaraed tears fell onto her squeezed breasts,
As fresh blood gushed out from what used to be her pride.

Her body was beyond broken and abused,
Hurriedly, he disappeared into the woods,
There was a chill in the wind,
As her throat went dry and she froze in pang and fright with no help.

If Glory Is Nothing But a Name

this blessed moment
oh lord what is glory
sweet glory
if nothing but a name thrusted 
upon her broad shoulders
and let the glory banner
yet wave her banner majestically
and that we drape her red cape
around our quivering hearts
thus to query for
fame fortune and favor
what more to ask of her
i am sure and still are
if this be sweet glory still
if glory is nothing but a name

The Beach

It's been way too long since my last lay
With a blue skirt girl on the westward bay
I couldn't delay my sport and had to pay
For the tinkers under the sun's last ray.

Her hands were crafty in the glancing gloam
And we finished before the plunging night 
The algae a -crackling with cyclostome
The coralline pebbles were holding me tight.

I smelt a whiff of opioid scheme 
Coming straight from her whitesilk thighs
Before I was dragged down to ancient dream
I gathered strength to disengage and rise.

she was quick to act and fell me on to her breasts
I was sure as hell I hadn't passed my tests
She stroked my limbs with tiny scree fingers
And kissed, and, kissed me like fearful stringers.

Suddenly she broke into ponderous laughter 
And the maniacal wind blew with hefty gust
She thrusted her pelvis to the water of the night
Through my meandering veins the feral blood rushed.

It's been way too long since my last lay
With a Cinderella on the westward reach
I found a Siren at Prometheus' end 
And she was a .. she was a beach!


Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest

Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
21 December, 2019

Premium Member When Words Are Weaponized

Words are double-edged swords

  On one hand, they're used to teach and inspire
       They're used to express love, to charm, 
   To communicate wants and needs effectively

      Words are golden; emotionally soothing
        When draped with silken tenderness; 
          Treated with care like fragile glass

        On the other hand, when weaponized; 
    Thrusted like an epee to impale a thin skin, 
  Wielded like a machete to cut someone down...

         They can inflict unhealing wounds! 
   Just like a bullet can't be sucked back into 
      The chamber after the trigger is pulled, 

     Deeply hurtful invectives can't be unsaid.
The damage done won't be completely repaired,
          No matter how sincere an apology.  

  So when passions are inflamed, it's important
 To pause, take a deep breath, and let our anger
   Dissipate before we say something we regret. 



Date written: 10/28/2019

Young

For one so young you have experienced too much,
Too much death, too much hatred, too much change.
But this knowledge from the world’s thrusted touch,
Has made its surprises anything but strange.

From all it has taken from your soft, unleathered hand,
You have gained a sense of courage and pride.
Though sorrow inhabits, so strong you still stand,
To this realm and to the next, your heart had been tied.

You pass through your life in air so thin,
And happiness that morphs is all that you crave.
Accept the inevitable life that you’re in,
Know that you are in charge of the life that you pave.

The stars in the sky have looked on you and smiled,
Given you more than you expected to own.
So when people see you as an unknowledgeable child,
Know that it’s them who will one day be overthrown.

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