Treacherously Poems | Examples

old age is yell

my fingernails are treacherously filthy
not merely dirty
disgusting
they have hardened and yellowed
old age is a yell

No One Noticed the Angel

no one noticed an extraordinary white angel
she was the only brightness of the day
but we were not looking out our windows
peach pastel sky had never looked so dull
roads were treacherously icy
we cuddled up inside our homes
no one went to work or to school
barren trees did not move a branch
silence of bushes invoked a day of double naps
many children were born the following spring
inspired by an extraordinarily white angel
most of us missed

In Whole

I have died a million times,
And this has shaped my soul,
But I need to die again,
And give Thee my life in whole.

I don’t yet know how to,
Or if I even want to yet, 
But I know if I don’t do it soon,
I will forever regret.

These deep perils inside,
Cut me up so treacherously.
Can I find a friend, in whom I can confide,
Who will love me zealously?

My few are out there trying,
While I’m in here, just dying.
The tyrants of the tide, are pulling and prying,
To cut me off, and thwart me from rising.

These are things, not surprising,
But things I’m just now realizing.
I keep unwinding, never compromising.
My standards are set by the Most High.

I can go on with Thee alone,
But I would love it if others came along.
I know somewhere there are some,
Who believe the way I do, who also remain true.

I hope I’ll find them soon,
But until then I’ll see the moon,
And night stars in these skies,
With me in their glorious lights.

Cool Cats

Tiny little cat soul
Loyal as can be,
If I did not feed her
I know that she’d feed me.

Though dogs are mans best friend
If food will go astray,
They’d take the food from anyone
Hence they would run away.

Cat killers hate cats
They’ve hunted evilly- 
The tiny little fur ball friends
Behaving treacherously.

Every night she guards me
Sleeping on my bed,
A friend for life throughout all strife
She’s worthy to be fed.

Makes me laugh and brings me joy
With much personality,
It’s only fair to give them care
For cats identity.

Domestic pets, expensive vets
A hole in ladies purse,
No price to high for loyalty and
Simply loving worth.

Though we never own the animals
We know we can’t mistrust,
The respect they reflect
Whilst ownership of us.

Stalemate

We became blind to His love for us
Failing to honor Him in our worship
His choices now offend us
And our offerings now offend Him
Our hearts refuse to take Him in
So, we go through the motions
For the appearance of respectability

We are hypocrites
Asking Him for His blessing
While dishonoring His name
We have turned back from following Him
Our speech becomes ever more sinful
Showing partiality in His instructions
Showing lack of influence by the Spirit

We are disillusioned 
Accusing Him of injustice
Because the wicked are prospering
While our own service to Him is unprofitable
So, we withhold from Him
And become more self-assertive
Dealing treacherously with each other

We are lacking spiritual kinship
Yet, it's because of His justice
We still have space to repent
To return to Him and regain His blessing
To avoid the curse and coming judgment
He will send Elijah before that Day
To break the stalemate

Is His Cellphone Dead

Is his cell phone dead? Is he dead? What is happening?
I stare out the window for the sixteenth time.
It is windy out there. I can hear the howling.
Has he been in a wreck? Is it time to call the hospitals?

Should I get dressed in case the police come to the door?
I press my nose against the glass, and then my mouth.
The coolness of it does not calm me in the least.
Where is he? Why has he not called? What is happening?

I cannot leave. There is no one to watch the children.
I stare at the cell phone. Check it again for messages.
There is nothing. Where is he? What is happening? Was there a wreck?
The bridge is treacherously slick in this kind of weather. Especially if it rains.

Rain begins pinging at the windows. It sounds like sand being thrown.
What is happening? Where is he? I get dressed, ready for anything.

Glittery Winter Beauty

Glittery crystals
An icicle canopy
Wintery beauty
A nightmare for some drivers
Treacherously beautiful

Rising In the Gravity of the Wave of Political Deceit

The gravity of the wave of deceit has pulled political integrity
To its lowest ebb and flow, smothering morality with quagmires
Of electorial power abuse and sarcastic expositions of vanity.
Republic--Democratic--ideas, once held in high esteem
Have become veiled, vacuous words wallowing in party mud;
And our home--country has fallen into moral bankruptcy.  But 
We must refuse to accept that the vault of resolution is empty!

As with Noah, the turbulent times treacherously trot trust's road,
Inundated with pompous potholes of indignant, twittered "isms".
The Star Spangled Banner is a distant echo and America The Beautiful
Has been recalled.  Her amber waves frothing on the shores of deceit.
How long will we willfully play dice with the fate of a drowning nation?
How long must we allow "...crippling fear...like a nagging hound of hell...
Pursue our every footstep..." with shattering winds of depression?

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves

Sonny orchestrated; Cher was his doll.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, was their nightly drawl.
We’d preach a little gospel to save them all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, was their nightly drawl.
They were treacherously mean with their call.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
But the men would sneak, see us, big and tall.

And lay their money down, and have a ball.  
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves was their nightly drawl.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves was their nightly drawl.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
Papa would learn about this romance, in the Fall.

He was tall, handsome, but left me after all.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Papa would learn about this romance, in the Fall.
Sonny orchestrated; Cher was his doll.

Written May 1, 2018

Edward the Martyr

Edward the Martyr, saint king of England,
 leading the Church of Christ on a long way.
 In tradition catholic in ages
 was England and splendor of God there grows.
 
After he got treacherously murdered,
 saint king Edward killed by an unjust death,
 shows the people miracles of his faith,
 his body uncorrupt through the ages.
 
Many who prayed to him recovered health
 and Church is healing through the ages past,
 as history is reversing to its source,
 for God is showing glory – Lord withstands
 
and reunited Church reformed repents,
 as intended was it once – one with God,
 that blind may recover its sight, find place
 and recognize that truth is only one.
 
© A. R. Wielgus 2015

Forest Man

Forest Man


Like a drug; I'm compelled.
An index finger points the way.
The path covered in vagueness.
Only trust leads my day.


The forest is my storybook.
Few paths I've known.
Some are smooth and uneventful.
Some are treacherously bare.


Once a lesson completes.
And a short respite occurs.
The forest fairies find me.
And, another adventure is assured.


My feet are weary from twists and stones.
Tripping along the way.
But nonetheless, the spirits find me.
And again, I've nothing to say,


Excuses are lame.
Whining creates more.
So, quietly I proceed.
Wandering, the magic roads of lore.



Passing through the brush,
Carrying my satchel of prayers.
Perhaps I'll pass a man.
A man who relinquishes terrors.



And I'll look for him in the forest.
There, pray he shall find me.
Illuminate, our eyes will sparkle.
Then, my spirt shall be set free.







By Bonnie Jennings
©July 2013 Forest Man All Rights reserved

You Said You Saw the Pastor

You said you saw the pastor
hiding in the corner of the shabby church
smoking, and looks worried

That Windmill turns no more, quietly stands 
Silently prays and loudly mourns  
For it never forgets how people scorn
That old car parks by the roadside
Pieces of paint, peeled and flake off.
Traces of rust, tell the stories of long gone trust.
That rocking chair at the front porch, screeching 
Sings songs of lonely, only winds can understand
That old tree stands firm in the grassland 
Treacherously tells things we can never stand.

Red bricks and concrete, scattered on the ground
describing the cheerful moment when 
pieces of broken hearts were found.

That smiley wolf wears a three-piece suit
patiently tells kids the value of being mute
Weeds, powders, and pills
Have become the ingredients of feel

You said that you saw the pastor
hiding in the corner of the shabby church
smoking, and looks worried

I see the sounds of praise,
rushes away in a hurry.

You Sat Inside There, Said Nothing But Stare

Standing under the sun and looking into the days
Blood is boiling in my veins as time quietly sways
Catching the breeze blown with fresh, grassy smell 
Grinding the past, as the clouds treacherously stay

You sat inside there, said nothing but stare
Bracelet on the ankle, which furiously glared 
This cave, where our promise was made
Left me alone, and gone on your own crusade.

That tree is still standing tediously today
Broken dreams never have reasons to sway
Shattered memories and screams, still lingering
In summer nights, they give me winter shivering

Standing under the clouds and look into these days
Cold blood is boiling in my veins as time quietly sways
Catching the breeze blown with wet, slurry smell 
Looking at the tree which shatters young dreams

Grinding the past, as the clouds treacherously stay



Mikhail.

A Cocktail of Kaleidoscope

(ALLITERATION)
Cows milked: mitigated mooing in the meadows then
Weaving on the warp, some workaholic women

Harvest of hapless halibuts on hooks
Bookish book-worms buried in books

A palomino and a pony patter on the paving
Hucksters and hawkers hawking every housing.

Ravers out on the razzle raising a raucous razz-ma-tazz
Beavers busy building beaver-dams but about it quite blasé.

Doves cooing in divine chorus
Frogs frisking out of focus
Horoscopes are hocus pocus.

Tidal waves of tsunami treacherously tread
Sea-anemones scattered upon the sea-bed.

Geraniums genuflecting in jungle-like gardens
Hunters wary of wandering wild-life wardens.

All this when I ventured about videotaping
Nature's much nicer even with no landscaping

These are direly different scenes from different parts of the globe
Perhaps like a space probe's kaleidoscopic poetic probe

( this poem has every letter of the alphabet except x)

Clothesline

I’m sure my mother’s punishing
The clothes that she hangs there
I don’t know the crime they commit
But I can’t help but stare 

At clothes flapping in the warm wind
Treacherously secure
To a wire stretched thin from two poles
For some purpose impure

©Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.

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