Wronging Poems | Examples

FALLING LIGHT

You shouldn't know the colour of falling light
As it descends into the abyss of passion.
When limbs intertwine in sweet complete delight
And the thin skin wraps the fiery flesh
In the soothing caress of the conductor's hand
Cris crossing and cutting the air afresh
With his smooth effervescent and pulsating baton.
You shouldn't know the colour of his seduction,
His ragged jagged downward pointing chin,
The tangled mangled wilderness of his beard,
The forceful resourcefulness of his kisses,
The colours of that fascinating rude tattoo.
The feeling of injection and quick retraction,
You shouldn't know the colour of his flame,
Or the sound of his intoxicating and secret name
You must somehow savour with hungry lust.
Eyes rolling back as you inevitably fall
It is all some God almighty magnetic rich taboo.
His name, his eyes, the things you will recall
In the lonely moments of night time longing,
When you know it was all a dreadful act of wronging
That must be forever pushed aside, inside, denied,
Far away from the colour of the falling light.


 © Allen Ansell 2025

Harmony In Life

My head’s reeling it’s all too surreal
My heart questions just what is real
My mind couldn’t describe how I feel,
O spirits, awaken my conscience. 

An overwhelming feeling of longing
Hopes and fears together thronging
I wonder why it’s me fate is wronging,
Oh, I long for self-transcendence.    

The essence of mind is life
The essence of heart is love
The essence of soul is consciousness,
Oh, I long for the integral alignment.


~03/15/21
~Contest: Inner Alignment
~Host: Unseeking Seeker

Belligerent Angel

Belligerent angel hear my prayer.
You've farked with us for what is fair.
Now hear me say you're one of us.
Corruptly wronging all of us.

Awakening

My head’s reeling it’s all too surreal
My heart questions just what is real
My mind couldn’t describe how I feel,
O spirits awaken my conscience. 

An overwhelming feeling of longing
Hopes and fears together thronging
I wonder why it’s me fate is wronging,
Oh, I long for self-transcendence.    



~A Brian Strand contest

Death

Sometimes i sit back and wonder if death is another natural thing or simply ultimate price which every human must pay for wronging The Almighty God and all the gods.. Many times i wonder if heaven actually has an idea of the depth of pain which we deal with each time another loved one dies. Like, why let us come here, go through so much sufferings, hustles and pains, build so many sweet memories here and then cut off just like that?? Do we actually deserve another punishment after the painful exit?
Why do we even come here in the first place?
Why do we go to after having it short and hard here? God remember us in your favour in our last day.
.
May the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God Rest in peace. Amen.

If I Could

If I could write a poem I would
but I doubt if it would be much good.
I can’t wax lyrical and shout 
of virtues I feel nowt about.
I need to have something to say
regarding love,
or in some way
on need and longing
or want and wronging.
Things about a heart’s complaint
and there ain’t
a lot of rhymes 
for sorry.

A Feeling Born of Love

ITS BORN OF LOVE

That empty soul feeling of longing
when you know you have to part
ways with one held in your heart
ever and always so dear

That anticipative feeling of anxiety
when you don't know as to whether
the one you hold so dear to your heart
is ever coming back again

That feeling of wronging and hurt
when the one you love so dearly
repulses your advances carelessly
that feeling is born of love





LEWIS NYAGA
26/01/2014

B. B. Gone

Hollering my pain
Swallow me, blackness, swallow!
Rid me of wronging!

That I do tonight
My lone witness a guitar
Watch me weep the sea

Just a dark stool I'see
Now not even me to bear
As steps sound my leave

Midnight Hour

Upon the midnight hour, you were there to be drawn.
Bitter breath sauntered beside evil beyond the night.
Sweetness swept by me as I walked within the mist.
Upon the brink, beyond forever she brought the light.

Through the midnight hour, time cascades so still.
Your eyes trapped my soul bewildering my heart.
Kisses upon my neck; drove me to the end.
What was the next minute’s affinity for a meal?

Choices, I had no chance, for destiny chose me.
No evil within, only the hunger of the midnight hour,
I am not damned, sweet love took my life away.
My eyes widely opened, so unholy strong, I see.

Truth about the class of the un-human creature now,
I will tell the depth of my wronging, before that hour.
Bitten as the flooding of un-life drove me wild,
I saw the future that has become my complete power.

I have no pity for myself, though I shall create none.
My hunger I will flounder and deprive myself so.
Hunting of the humankind, I shall never persuade one.
I shall forever feed upon the soulless creatures of Earth.

Transaltor

Transaltor
A Dialect Poem
The Transaltor is here again Sahib he has something to say to thee. Jobor is 
speaking.
Transaltor is speaking: Sahib eye must travel many moons to visit the aged yew 
it must be hard to understand the English of this madman he is typo mad he 
makes eye the I the pronoun and the ewe his wife she must be happy to have 
him oh wait no we cannot judge a poet it must be style to bring a smile to every 
poets faces
Sahib speaks now: just tell me he sent me message and disturbed my aged 
wisdom in my places that eye visit are we still friends
Jobor speaks again:
Yes Sahib he would not answer thus without a reason.
Narrator speaks to crowd: What devotion if his servant is thus happy with this 
poet than he must have a very good reason to speak so off the wall and seem so 
badly wronging them
Transaltor says YES it seems so he says he is very sorry he called yew the back 
end of a camel can we still be friends my friend
Sahib says YES

Hurting

The flower of the soil, not curse but I
am same, not cutting ~ beings lie
The flower of my eye, seems only thy
contention only seeding in reply!

What grows in longing symbolizes try,
befit with wronging, nurtures less imply.
Some grace befits an answer, asking why
love seeds it's error firstly, but to die!

As all man contemplative risk deny
am I thus overstated, nay, but nay!
This truth congratulaltive feels no wry
the heart left but to ponder, finds it's sky ~

still deep inside its hurting . . . frees its cry!

Hurricane Katrina

since i been on mudda earth,the lurid left felt me a jerk.but never been,next to 
him,bill clinton,than when,he said,and i quote,the show,the hurricane 
katrina,thats a bling arena,a minority show off,learn to use the rope.so i dope 
along,miking my song and wonging,deling,wronging.swimming lessons 
included.

Overdrawn

My own intent, transfused with some regret,
adventures teaming forth, conditions set
still rally hope, a virtuous trial's inept,
so faith in love begins a journey's kept!

Almost consigned to destiny, so swept
with innuendo's challenging's accept.
I gather strength to tally not those left,
the footpath winding onward steers my depth!

And I am overdrawn with feeling's cleft,
the music of my longing seems my debt.
Exaggerated thronging riles to wept,
a loneliness, a wronging, yet but yet ~

Thy love,  my love at losing, Soul's concept
filled nought to grieving's choosing . . . as to death!

I Know

I know a world of sadness in your grace
because in thee, I cannot trace
my own world's longing to embrace
some crudeness wronging, some deface.

Cantingly, subjects stronging with replace
of aptitude, and songing - happier days
that built hope's erstwhile thronging, not encased
with worries staid belonging's commonplace.

Oh love, beloved will - seek thought, not maze
from crippling entities programmed abrade.
That gift of life, of God, not lean-to craze
of modern tempo's struggling with self praise!

His gift of love, I know, with thee .. He made!

• Short Wronging Poems
• Famous Wronging Poems
• Best Wronging Poems
• Read Wronging Poems
• Long Wronging Poems
• Wronging Quotes