Whipping Poems - Poems about Whipping

When did I become the whipping post, for your weaknesses and shortcomings. You've plucked a few of my low moments. Into an eternal mantra of all your defeats. I Never said I perfected the art of perfection. I was never good at turning slag into gems. If you really think I've totally failed, you. That could very well...

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Whipping post Didn't you watch the on coming storm, alchalic words ! blew Dry into my wired mouth , the art of conversation is stilled, while Your streets soon boiled in fury , watched by A Queen in her linen and volts A Doppler Queen, who feasted on broken wombs, swilled down, Eased in its swallow, phlegm...

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In a child's blueprint Most telling memories Lay dead and buried Prior to ghosts that torment him grown The plain act Of daydreaming Has ways to call forth A multitude of zombies from his past Like a family friend playing father After Dad's recent demise Assisting the mother easily overcome By her youngest boy dubbed Exceptional Taken aside and told He's really something But aware it did...

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Jill had not aged well. She looked years older than me. My arch-nemesis from second grade, my tormenter. Her mean looks, her nasty ways, Not forgotten. Remembering the hurt, the shame. A class action mean-girl. Although it had been over fifty years, I recognized her in a hot minute. My heart practically stopped, when we met in the milk aisle of...

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Into Shape Whipping Many moments we found which were gripping; Our selves much better we can start equipping; More than anything, We do love to sing; Now us into shape God is sure to start whipping. By the way Bill which way was charming Billy Boy going and where after he knew that God would be there....

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Whipping Boy A whipping boy Along with bully pulpit Are both weird at times. Jim Horn...

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Now lightly sweep the peppercorns in a harbour. No drama. But underground is not a gate nor a post for these are only really ever positioned on hallucinogenic coastal paths where time stands and the pattern ceaseless. Flowing. Great. It is often within hardship that the myth of the writhing cotton bud takes budgets to...

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How few people know in this world, That the ones who are beaten Find ways to take rage out on others, All frequently fruit of one tree! But just for this reason I chose To forgo my own children Preferring this legacy die and Find no life extension thorough me. Though discipline can bless a child, Pain just sends the wrong message. It says,...

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BLUNDERS SO SAY WHEN CONFRONTED BY THEM DIFFERENT NAMES, SAME MEANINGS PEOPLE OF THE NIGHT, COLD BLOODED BEIGN AS THEIR NAME IMPLY PERCHANCE APPEARS IN THE DAY IF CHANCE PERMITS FORCING THEM TO SUCCUMB TO THEIR PRESSURE ‘COS HOLDING IN HANDS METALS OF DESTRUCTION THOU FINISH UP IN A SECONDS AK 47 RIFLES FOUND WITH THEM JACKNIFES, CUTLASSES GLITTERING IN THEIR HANDS BLITTERING LIKE GALAXY OF STARS WHEN NEMESIS HIT THEM TURN AND...

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Torrential downpour Wind whipping inside and out Destruction rampant Russell Sivey Entrant into SandyIvy Davis's "Hurricanes -Only Haiku" contest 11/6/2012...

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black ink shapes skitter in the road shade in the tree shade under bushes into the dark no streetlight transform to running ink lines whipping whipping away from the light so fast eyes are deceived yet every night under the moon ink shapes skitter and shiver in place race past all we know...

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Whipping waves seethe blue Tossing violent red sea Green flows natural...

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One of many dark moments in America's History, home of the brave and the free. A.W. Nutter “Let the bullwhip sing” “Stifling freedoms ring” My sweat soaked shirt Was quickly torn away Fears dampening the dirt I silently began to pray My arms tightly bound To a very large tree No mercy to be found I will never be free “Let the bullwhip sing” “Stifling freedoms ring” A breeze...

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Why always must you be this way All in Disarray... Wounded, weary target These conquests are foolish ends you choose You bare to bruise... Vulnerable, Volatile Heart Profiling Men who suit you worst Your romantic tastes, a burdened curse... Lonely, Loving victim Hearts they want just what they will She wont learn until...Broken, Battered soul Its I you turn to.. each time, Confide But...

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