"criticise" poems
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
34.9k
Not another flipping cooking show,
On the telly, it's all go,
Weird concoctions in their heads,
What's up with good old meat and veg?
Judges frowning, watching on,
The clock is ticking, must get done,
Sweat is dripping in their pies,
So some top Chef can criticise?
I'd love that job, the eating bit,
They never eat up all of it,
Sometimes they are just simply rude,
So if they criticised my food,
I wouldn't put up with that ****
The buggers would be wearing it :)
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
I miss my mother most
when I'm in her frenetic company.
Such an angry fragile woman
in the shadow of the mum
she used to be.
Lost and alone, wanting a way home,
one woman against the world
with no old friends
only fresh new foes.
She can identify every shifting lie
sitting scared with no escape
from a hundred shifty eyes.
Stalkers criticise every mistake
watching her practice looping moves
cornering her as if to prove
that we're all conspiring
each trying to rob her
when the screaming truth here
is that her fleeting thoughts
have already gone where
we can never walk
not even in our tears.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 2:35 AM UTC
When I was...
When I was...
When I was 18!
Back at it again, mind doing loops, going through a bend, wading through a field of blood but all I needs a friend, feeling like I'm starting to decend, down a path I'm never coming out of, feeling things are a lil bit intense, and I'm next, but ain't no nobody do it like I do, and in the end, I'll be the one everyone, everything, and nothing will never ******* comprehend, it's this I'm chasing, they might hate it, Ill act like ya'll get it and the game isn't ready, but I am
Living like I'm 18
Take my days with my dreams
Things are different, it's never as it seems
Feeling trapped as a machine
Living like I'm 18
It's hard to choose between
Now I'm starting a new expansion, flushing out everything I use as a distraction, feeling like things are becoming too much; I need to take action, need to go ahead with this, this kinda life I need to abandon, if I go to far now we got a real problem, it's no mistake homie, use your glasses, nevermind my status, this is my ride and I'm captain, I know it's hard to imagine, showing my compassion, no matches to action, I'm no fake for real passion and now it's feels like I'm crashing...
Living like I'm 18
Take my days with my dreams
Things are different, it's never as it seems
Feeling trapped as a machine
Living like I'm 18
It's hard to choose between
I'm full of surprises, how would you discribe this, never too late to realise, how far I'd go to unto demise, yeah now I've got a place to divise, no respect for these lines, ya'll have no idea what I'm going through but ya'll ready to criticise, suppose I should release something more often, and now it's me you've forgotten, walking round looking like a big shot, how long until it's ya'll I haven't got, like to act like a hot shot with a free thought, struggling away last couple of months, sorting out my life and I wonder if I still got it, showing a bit of spark like a megawatt, electricity's not my game but whose to say I'm not shocking, all the little ******* taking their shots, saying I got a case of writers block, so we gonna cut the small talk, they think I've got the writers block, acting like I've hit a road block, that's how you feel well then go ahead and **** my...
...I know it's a joke, a bad one at that, but it's who I am, and it's why I'm born to rap, been wanting to do this since primary, and to all the offended ***** you don't like my music just fire me, oh wait you can't cause ya'll ************* can't touch me, I'mma follow my path to be who I wanna be... this path I thought would stay uncharted, it's just this, this is my beginning, hate this, but I am just getting started.....
Living like I'm 18
Take my days with my dreams
Things are different, it's never as it seems
Feeling trapped as a machine
Living like I'm 18
It's hard to choose between...
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
I want to lock myself away
And never come out again
For fear of the light
And of the people
Who shall criticise
My actions
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC
To smile at the unlovely
To duet with undue harmony
To run when a walk would do
To lift the face of the broken
To put aside the important
To concentrate completely
To take interest in the dull
To laugh with the miserable
To see past the tough exterior
To crawl with those that crawl
To walk with the unrighteous
To sprint for those that cannot stop
To stop
To listen
To keep silent
To hold
To do all this
And not ask, or boast, or criticise
Aug 27, 2010
Aug 27, 2010 at 7:34 AM UTC
The **** monster was a friendly one
He'd love to lay on the roads under the summer sun
He'd love following in the footsteps of those who run
But he for one never felt useful to anyone at all
So he decided one day to rescue people at a single call.
The **** monster slowly exceeded his name
Became the **** hero
But still had people criticise his methods
Saying "your ways stink"
Or the even more rotten responses
"You disgust our city "...
But he kept a high head and decided to spread cheer
For when you love something
You will give it all you have
And the **** hero really loved the city.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
If you close your eyes
Inside your mind
You'll capture your prize
No telling what you’ll find.
There is a magical land
Just waiting to be explored
Available on demand
A guarantee you wont be bored.
Maybe inside your dreams
There are castles and moats
Strawberries and creams
Yachts and sailing boats.
Caves with orchestras to observe
Listen and relax and drift away.
Maybe a beautiful nature reserve
To watch lion cubs at play.
Maybe there are chocolate waterfalls
And the rocks are made of fudge
A tree where a kingfisher calls
Or where nobody can criticise or judge.
In your mind are flowers made of silk
And last forever and ever
The cows produce flavoured milk
Cold with ice for whoever and whenever.
You can visit these things any time
Just close your eyes and you are there
No rivers to cross, no hills to climb
No parking ticket required, no taxi fare.
It is a free service, provided just for you
Just close your eyes, enjoy what you see
See your fields of green, your skies of blue
Your rivers of chocolate and a butterfly tree.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
who the **** are you
to become the judge and jury
on a lesbian relationship
on you i unleash my fury
who the **** are you
to tell me my place
did i ever ******* ask you
to sit upon my face
who the **** are you
to sit and criticise
on what gender i let enter
my silken open thighs
who the **** are you
a twisted lonely ******
who gives a **** or a toss
because im no **********
are you just jealous
cos im loved and youre not
you sit upon your golden throne
a stale **** full of rot
who the **** would **** you
with an attitude sick as that
in my humble opinion
youre a nosy ******* ****
so now do one
you low life piece of ****
your dad is ****** in the sack
id rather **** ya mum
Nov 20, 2010
Nov 20, 2010 at 5:34 AM UTC
Love - it does not necessarily mean romance, or
silly, promised-filled, tragedies like Romeo and Juliet's,
or shallow, innocent love of teenagers, who are just starting to experience
what it's like and want to know more;
Love can mean the kind you feel for people
you care about, like your parents,
your siblings, your friends...
People whom you'd love unconditionally.
And those people probably love you back
despite your flaws and endless mistakes,
they'd forgive you
and sometimes,
they try to help you get on the right path
and correct those flaws so that
You become a better person.
But what does loving a stranger mean?
Isn't that how we all came to be?
Your mother loved a stranger, and got you.
Her mother loved a stranger and loved your grandfather,
and his father loved a stranger, your great-grandmother...
This beautiful cycle of loving strangers begins our time on Earth.
How do you know that you love a stranger?
Firstly, you might think that their fingers are rather bony
and maybe they way they stand are a little odd,
and the way they walk make you cringe inside 'coz it's awkward?
And their hair is a little too long, when they say a joke,
their lips curl up at the top and their eyes flit upwards
and you feel so uncomforable looking at them.
Slowly, you realise though...
after talking to them a little more,
becoming better acquaintances,
and then friends,
you don't notice those 'flaws' anymore (they were never things I should criticise in the first place)
In fact, you start to love them, and like it when they do that.
It's a unique part of them that you want to keep seeing.
You feel guilty and sorry for even hating them in the first place,
because afterall, they are beautiful!
Lastly, when you depart,
you know you really love them because
you'll miss those tiny details even more
since you're never going to see those lovely beauties again.
(Oh, how I regret not fully appreciating them!)
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
We've grown together, no doubt
We hang out in the clouds and clouds roll out
I hold her close as she ignites my passions and dreams
She takes me from all the drama it seems
Some may criticise but don't realize
We're made for each other
you can see it in the eyes
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
Others you should not judge, criticise
'Til you have seen the world through their eyes;
Know where the person is coming from,
Know the challenges they overcome.
For on you it does reflect badly,
It says much more about you sadly.
Makes you seem shallow, superficial,
So narrow minded and judgemental.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
I don't get offended when people criticise me because nobody can hurt me more than i've hurt myself.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
We are like bread.
Bread has three irreversible modes:
dough, bread, and toast.
many things in life, if not
everything in life
have many different forms.
we are all in the different stages of bread
and yet
we criticise and judge ourselves
for moving and changing
and needing a new environment.
The suitable storage for dough
differs vastly to the suitable storage
for bread
and yet
we do not mock it
but facilitate it.
We could learn a thing or two
from bread.
Oct 25, 2024
Oct 25, 2024 at 2:56 PM UTC
Whenever people criticise me
They usually don’t know that
I am my Biggest Critic,
Beating myself up
Like Tyson Fury.
It’s how I spur myself on,
Hopefully to better things.
But what things?
I still don’t know.
Oh to have blind faith
And sense of Vocation
As many others do.
A solid set of Values.
A script to follow
Opinions to declare.
Instead I dither
Undecided
Lost in an ocean of ifs and buts.
Too bright and open-minded
For my own good.
Worse still, I’m oh so eager to please.
I think myself incorruptibly honest,
Yet the truth is,
I only tell people what I think
They want to know.
It’s how I was brought up.
But then again
Am I willing to fight
For what I stand for?
Should I really be Devil’s Advocate
Just to “stick up” for my views?
Better methinks to hold my counsel
Or be diplomatic
Which may be okay
So long as I actually decide
What I think and feel
Within myself.
And there’s the rub.
What do I stand for?
Do I really think for myself?
Like so many others,
Am I dragged along:
Brainwashed by Media hoo ha
And hype?
Superficial sound bytes
And rallying calls.
I need to search my soul
And find my true feelings
And beliefs.
I know that I Love Life
In most of its forms.
I’m all for Wellbeing
And The Common Good.
I need to focus
On these things:
On making the most of
This Paradise World
We seem bent on ruining.
In short
I must stoke those fires of Love
And enlighten others
To do the same.
Paul Butters
© PB 13\12\2021.
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 6:21 AM UTC
deep pan cooking not hardeep cooking 21.08.18
monday started top draw
my venom going to spill
natalie is going to get poetry draw
forget girlfriends she will run for hill.
how dare she complain
when something is uncontrollable
insomnia through hardeep may rain
but freedom of speech not so honourable.
gabby and chloe showed they cared
how natalie was blunt
explaining hardeep was literally chaired
footage available now hunt.
onto shares and stocks
rodrigo learning how to trade
laughing off my socks
no barings even if bad bug won't fade.
nick and rodrigo in control
on boarder line ready to hassle
the biceps taking fall patrol
it was rodrigo not nick who liked mussel.
failure to the task
hunger will be plenty
one comment can not mask
hardeep can make something out of empty.
dans hands were magic
don't get confused
gabby refusal was award and tragic
like basic budget just amused.
was sally watching adverts
the aviva app dash cam i log
roxanne will need youtube diverts
it was a tin man not a brown dog.
nick explaining about travel
lands of paradise and greens
at airport all unravel
seeing face on all them screens.
legs up and over
natalie and gabby to exercise
hardeep with a nasty dig and sober
saying nick doing shopping add criticise.
natalie and hardeep getting louder
hardeep gets my crown
unacceptable all about curry powder
she bring herself not hardeep down.
going to end with a critic
natalie won't see no irony
vicious mouth and hyper-critic
its all add to cbb savoury.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
Take another day of afterglow; put it down as luck.
Another place has turned to gold in my dominion...
Too much more of happiness and I will turn to gold myself!
Made of curiosities, placid on my shelf...
Rewards for scarcity...
This is my reward for scarcity...
My rewards for scarcity...
I will see more dawns than coins.
I will be the text on art.
I can't stand too much attention.
Pull me closer!
Pull me closer!
I will criticise this state of art
yet I will play this risen part.
Rewards for scarcity...
This is my reward for scarcity...
My rewards for scarcity...
My rewards for scarcity...
My rewards for scarcity.
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
To criticise others seems soothing as cool breeze
People say anything without a single heed.
Without aknowledging how their words might impact someone's life
They keep passing opinions with ungrateful pride.
Some are able to overcome these comments and try to move on in life
While some are demoralized and end up with commiting suicide.
People must know that its not an achievement to criticise someone at every point
Maybe that person is already going through a hectic life.
No-one knows what it would have cost him to reach at a specific point
And some unuseful words may leave a never-ening depression in his mind.
He might not be able to excel in any aspects of life henceforth
And might end up thinking his life nothing more than a unbearable load.
If you think of yourself in the shoes of the person you critice
Then you might understand that its not a thing of pride.
Years of hardwork, sacrifice and dedication comes to an end with some criticising words
And thats the point where we might lose one of our precious jewels on earth.
So lets stop critising someone just to put him down in life
Despite help him in overcoming difficulties and achieving great heights.
No-one knows how your small support can lighten up someone's darken soul
With such deeds we might end up being a true human as a whole.
May 31, 2022
May 31, 2022 at 6:17 PM UTC
I gaze at the dark skies,
said Nima, it matches
my depression in depth
and mood, sitting in
the hospital ward
in my private room
my parents paid for.
They come now and then,
my mother more,
to moan and criticise,
to moralise about
my life and deeds.
I wait for Benedict to come;
he brings me cigarettes
and chocs, brings me
news of the outside world.
I have met him in London
if the quacks allow me out
on a day or weekend pass.
We stayed one night
at that cheap hotel
off Charing Cross Road:
the bed was old
and creaked each time
we made love or moved
in nightly passion.
I do not think
he will come today:
he works all week days
as a rule; I must contend
alone with my mood
and mind and dark skies
and day to day depression
in my own way and fashion.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 2:55 AM UTC
A box junction,dysfunctional miscommunication,down by the station in one more of its type,a shattered crack pipe and a broken down motormouth man,spanning the distance between here,over there,swiping the air,pissing his pants,ranting at rainbows,begging from strangers,
he's just another of the night time ghost rangers,a shadow that falls off imagination and walled off behind solidified dried up and **** out hot dreams that appeared to be real,in the stealing of childhood in the big world bad wild hood,where the good don't die young but are used as the fate bait for just wait and see state, you get in,when you stick the pins in your veins,bleed drain fluid cleaner, how keen are you now?
How the mighty have risen to be crushed,cast aside on the mad ride to stardom in the Kingdoms of blinged up and blind men,
dazzle me, quick me,me brain's oh so sick me,
and sometimes I wonder
and sometimes I don't.
I won't make apologies to pygmy type minds who only find it within them to carp,criticise,and as I prise up the mountains to catch moles for my dinner,I ask of my god,just who is this winner that's wrote of on totems?
Poles apart
we start in the middle,fiddle the figures which figures not in the outcome and I come out fighting,
delightful in madness where the sad can't attack me,where the strait jacketed banality of life is finally flushed,where I'm not rushed in decisions,make insightful incisions with obscure ramifications and cut anyway,cut everything away and cast off.
A bit like knitting
but not with wool.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
The very first thing a poet should do
Is throw that ego in the bin.
For being Great, or finding fame and fortune
Should hardly be your goal.
Just say whatever you have to say
With passionate heart and Voice.
Forget about Perfection
As all is relative:
And simply be Inspired.
Don’t be a slave to rigid forms:
Variety is the key.
Pulsing rhythms may match the heart
But missing beats have clout.
Be respectful to other poets at all times
And always return their praise, where you can.
Never criticise in a negative way:
Always be positive and supportive.
Keep out of inter-poet politics:
Such a waste of time!
Just write and write and write and write:
I simply cannot help it!
Paul Butters
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
sometimes you just want to be alone
in your very own room
just complete hush-hush
scanning your thoughts
and predicting your future
accepting yourself
not keeping that thick, unlit mask
in order to dress and impress
multitudes of pressure begins to melt away
it's just you
and you only
and it becomes one of those rare occasions
where everything and anything is about you
and no one can mock or criticise
no one can tell you no
no one will have any psychological power
but yourself
and this is when you lull yourself to sleep
you decide
to finally rest
and be at inner peace
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:47 AM UTC
Seldom have I seen such strength, such purposefulness shown
And I have witnessed many who have made their message known,
Immovable this woman stands in seas of raging tide
Where friend and foe, as challengers, she’s deftly swept aside.
Resolute she stands atop white cliffs of blazing chalk
To glare across the Channel where her predecessors stalked
In league with Winston Churchill with pugnacious jawline set
When he thrashed the fiend in Jackboots and field grey appuletes.
In league with Margaret Thatcher with that glint of grey in eyes
To the accolades of Gorbachev who recognised the prize.
In league with Boadecia the ghost of power past
Who rallied this great nation to fight on to the last.
Snapping at her ankles the dogs of turmoil writhe
And comrades of another time amass to criticise,
Labourites howl murderously to all who would take heed
While the rabble rousing Europeans joust to intercede.
Swirling round her skirts they mass now screaming their abuse
At her articulated message of a pathway less obtuse.
If Tony Blair had the ***** it’s to her side he’d dance
As would Jeremy Corbett but of that there’s little chance,
Her Majesty stands forthright, as do all her heirs
Including Will and Harry who are cheering from the stairs.
Dianna’s there in spirit plus the Kiwis from the pub
And the rough crowd from the chippie all dolled up with a scrub.
She needs ALL of you behind her in her struggle for the best,
Independence for Great Britain is ascendancy’s great quest.
The very heart of what It means to dwell within these shores
The very heart of what it means to be Brittish to the core.
England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales combining for the task
Of a guarantee of future from the quagmire of the past.
We SHALL stand behind Teresa May and make our voices heard
As we scream aloud the anthem to impart our final word….
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITTANIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER…
SHALL BE SLAVES!
Boom, boom, boom
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITANNIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER….
SHALL BE SLAVES!
M.
18 December 2018
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
My demons and I
We go way back
When I was utterly alone
They were there
To criticise me
To torture me
To feed my insecurities
And my worst impulses
But they also protected me
Consoled and soothed me
And accepted me at my worst
For most of my life
They were my only companion
And they stuck with me
When things got tough
That is why it is hard
To leave them behind
And make room
For a new chapter in my life
For a chance at something better
Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 11:05 PM UTC