Wroth Poems | Examples

Holy Orders, condensed'

In ancient Egypt paharoh waxed wroth.' For he was there god... Such was his boast.' Until from
The rushes came a man, who'd accept no kings  bull
Only Yahweh's plans.' His spirit God filled, so plauges came a'plenty.' Pharoah took ten  big hits
Moses got on his toes, and off with those
Isrealites; he surely lit.'

Thar Be Treasure

Hie thee now by warning taught
The path ahead be peril fraught
Each breath taken carried past
Each step taken counted last
To strive against such dangers rife
Tis better chance the falling knife
For what portends from grand emprise
By hazards wroth may be surmised
That loot awaits at ventures end
For those whom Deaths hand doth forfend
But take thee heed and be thee ware
In trust and faith place not a care
For tho the treasure sets ye free
Success breeds many enemies

social media

Social media
 The X-twitter this morning was disappointing it consisted of 60% Musk and 40% Trump bragging about how great they are at winning the battle of saving America from the disaster of paying the poor too much and reducing medical aid to the old who must learn to fend for themselves  It is tiresome to see the same triumphant smiles and one wonders if they ever sit down asking if their presence in the oceans of opinions matters do they doubt themselves, are they ever unsure if they might be wrong, is their preening too powerful an impregnable wall hindering them to have souls, drowning in the glare of self-love I pity them should they see themselves for what they are utterly pathetic humans a failure of creation by a god of wroth

shiny times

Shiny time

The glittering sea, golden sand
 harmonious the sky
 with cute white clouds 
 it was said before this place 
became a tourist mecca 
another race of people lived
here, but they had sinned
Merciless, Jehovah’s wroth 
Not one survivor
That’s how it became 
A worldly Paradise

Worn Out Relic

O Lord,
'Tis a decade gone
Since thy curse fell upon us.
The malnourished children are no more,
The poor soil lieth barren.
Lord, what hast thou wrought upon our village?
Mine only companions be the flies and the toads.
Thy shadow resteth beside mine empty grave.
I am not wroth with thee,
Yet surely have I all the right to be so.

Unconscious bias

---unconscious bias

I crawl as my tongue slither back
 forth lies and untruths, 
my rock heart, my mouth spews 
-out disproportionately facts

represented or excluded from certain roles
my verbal statement of reform mine associations we hold 
I and my friends (I mean fiends) be a sign of 
---unconscious bias

Who are we as I and we snap judgments?
Assessments, who whom are I and we to past testaments
Them there whom they be negative attitude, 
We in ourselves outside of self can’t let them be

Of which one is not consciously aware, 
Against a specific social group none of which we I care
Eternal hatred, jealousy and slander
Why? Must I (we) inside those hearts speak aloud ill of

--Oh? What wroth, 
Such a lot 
Is this unconscious prejudice
 Human resources do they measure this


--- Those whom internally thinking unconscious bias


9/11/24
For This or That, Vol 27 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh

The Faces of Jesus

The shepherds whom the angels told,
of Jesus’ birth foretold of old,
made haste and found the humble place
and saw the Savior’s serene face.

One stormy night in a small boat
which sailors doubt would stay afloat,
the Savior found a resting place
and wore in sleep that serene face.

Upon a mount, the chosen three
beheld a scene that weakened knee.
And in that hallowed, sacred space,
they saw their Master’s shining face.

When merchants, of God’s Temple made,
a marketplace to ply their trade.
Jesus was wroth and did them chase
out of God’s house with a stern face.

And as He in the garden prayed,
in agony His body swayed.
The weight of sin from Adam’s race
sorrowed His heart, saddened His face.

When Jesus comes to take us home
we’ll rise with Him pass heaven’s dome,
as trophies of His saving grace
we will behold His smiling face.

Paradise Lost

I have been humbled, they had thought.

Exile would be painful, they had wroth.

The forest would swallow me, they had spoke.

To sunshine and sparrows, they had woke.

Though at night, no one knew, that hemlock

And nightbane had replaced their soup

They had not changed, you see.

They had let their sheep roam free.

And one by one, the flock fell

Down through the ravine, straight to hell.

Elegance

Elegance is the blue of the ocean,
ageless paragon's heartbeat in motion.

Never calm, but ripples and hoary froth;
enigmatic creatures that feel it's wroth.

The waves beget in outcome underscores
Its thirst for helpless endless sandy shores.

Its sheer breast resonates idyllic sound
and cool scent of briny seaweed earthbound.

It merges to rising blue horizon
under shadow clouds do not bedizen.

Melting dusk closes with a snug twilight
artlessly dissolves completing dark night.

Little Mary Miller

One sunny day little Mary Miller
Picked up a mottled green caterpillar,
Which became a monster moth. 
One fine morn her dad grew wroth:
Her moth laid eggs in his denture filler.
5/2/2023

After All Life Is But a Twisted Tale

After all, life is but a twisted tale,
Of trying blue; to weigh us, if model.
To find happy rest in all we travail...

Winnings, everyone continually tail,
Unleash cheats and deceits of sh*ts coddle...
After all, life is but a twisted tale!

Satisfaction has stolen away scale,
That manoeuvres peace at achievement's jail,
To find happy rest in all we travail.

Then the world becomes completely new ale,
That subjects sloshed sanity to waddle...
After all, life is but a twisted tale!

Time moves fast unlike dream's series avail,
Its fulfilling bail to rescue Abel.
After all, life is but a twisted tale!

How dire Cain reckons not blood, but impale
His brother; blackmail his death, wroth unveil.
After all, life is but a twisted tale,
To find happy rest in all we travail.

The Sin of Sloth

'Twas not the sin of sloth the Visigoth
rained down on Rome: the bitter taste of Gaul.
By moral indolence, His passions wroth.
Care lacked, and inward rot presaged their fall.


----------

for the Sin of Sloth Poetry Contest
sponsored by Margarita Lillico
written on 07/02/2022

To Be a Light Warm

The soul vibrates like a musical note
plucked by the changing universe of life
and within this realm, our conscious will float
with love as our true sword, we'll battle strife
we are the love born connected to all
to fight the dark if we wish to be whole
the conquered darkness we allow to fall
then seek the divine, and placed on love's scroll
names which are written, threads which are woven
to be a universal sacred cloth
where all of the love is interwoven
to protect our souls against demon's wroth
like water, we flow without any form
our souls merge with love, to be a light warm

5/28/22
contest Unity Consciousness

Elderly Dictator

Ageing dictator

The dictator is entering old age
his face is taken the appearance of a shrunken apple
but he still likes to look masculine.
Sitting wide-legged in a suit that is too tight.
He is not able to hide the beginning of a girth
he finds this annoying and swims several times a day.
He reads a lot but often draws the wrong conclusion
his anger toward the west is understandable 
the broken promises of NATO and the USA 
fills him with wroth he regards this as a lack of respect
for his beloved Russia.
The war in Ukraine is to say, will you respect me now?

Rain's Beauty

The angel’s tears streak the panes.
The lanes outside are filled with them.
Weeping for the fate of the world,
Unfurled are their banners grey.
Light scars the sky for a moment.
Potent is God’s punishment.
A crash is heard across the land,
God’s hand strikes down the proud,
Melting skin even in the deluge;
Refuge we seek within our homes
And though Nature’s wroth is nigh,
The sky brings heaven’s beauty here
The breath of the seraphim
A hymn it makes of angel’s tears
Soft and beautiful at times
Like chimes upon the tin

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