"reprimanding" poems
Shameful glaring.
Hateful words.
Always reprimanding.
Misplaced worlds.
Everything breaking.
All pain.
Stinging guilt.
Sighing rain.
Interests tilt.
Giving demons.
Having loathing.
Never bronze.
Ever dulling.
Disgraceful self.
Shame assigned.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Today, I have encountered something enchanting
Flowing through the outer forest, alighting
With birds and deer, All flora/fauna delighting
In her presence. I was taken to demanding
From myself a further look, reprimanding
my soul for wanting to see more of this beauty
Who could she be? This brown woman, set to soothing
my sailors heart? With another wayward glance,
She vanished- Leaving behind a memory, a missed chance;
And a man with knees too weak to stand.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
An unconscious self sabotage
The reprimanding echo
A bed of invisible nails
Without the smallest clue
What was this discomfort of?
Exhaustion, a cage without doors.
Menial tasks turned impossible
Stumbling around all dazed
Dressed to the ninth in neglect
I keep forgetting to live.
Dec 17, 2022
Dec 17, 2022 at 5:43 AM UTC
He stared at the cuts on his wrist
Reprimanding himself for his cowardice
To not finish the job
Melissa had seen those cuts
Dug deep into his wrist; angry red
Knowing full well the reason for them
But choosing to ignore them
He flinched letting out a sharp gasp
As slaps and punches hit him
Opening old wounds and bruises
His body a palette of suffering and pain
Bleeding tears down his skeletal frame
Melissa watched these attacks
Her boyfriend inflicted upon him
But chose to ignore them
His eyes were dry from shedding tears
His heart was torn from the constant crushing
His body wracked and tired from the frequent beatings
And his brain weary and ready to shut down forever
That morning Melissa couldn't ignore the body
Hung in her front garden
Holding a bouquet of wilting roses;
With a heart saying I love you
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 4:03 AM UTC
In the midst of reprimanding my clumsiness, I suddenly fell captive to the enchanting beauty of the falling speckles of reflective light. Gracefully they swayed like iridescent snowflakes on a serene winter morning. I stood mesmerized by the overwhelming splendor before my eyes and unaware of the mess I had just created. In the blink of an eye, mistakenly spilling a tube of glitter transformed into a spellbinding experience of aesthetic appreciation.
Oct 14, 2011
Oct 14, 2011 at 10:09 PM UTC
Tea taming the light
Misty magic
Crawls up the spine
Birds through the looking glass
She opened the book
Absorbing every page
Each chapter a gateway
Musing on those she knew;
Represented by numbers
Individual, yet all the same
Your days are a never ending struggle
Rare in and of themselves
Bringing trouble;
Dog eared rationale
We seekers of solace
Take refuge in books
Understanding
Demanding
The next installment;
Flooding our lives
with fantasies
Cocooned
In our chrysalis
Reading brings change
And knowledge
From page to page
We analyse
Plot, scene, age
Apply the theatre to our lives
And sit, thinking for a while
Read between the lines
Crime, thriller, romance
Happenstance
That could be our lives
Yet sky so grey
Overcast
Reprimanding
We sit, dreaming...
Some day.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
To both of you
Your paranoia has taken
a totally new level.
By checking my phone,
or my email accounts
or my Facebook account
is not going to be doing you
* any form of good. *
My friends and I
called that conversation
a heart-to-heart
the kinds I've never had with
both of you.
There are overwhelming feelings
that need to be poured out
And with that someone you know you could trust
That's pretty much
good for my mind.
Academics come second or third
When you are having a mid-life crisis
I'm sorry sir
but
get
YOUR
priorities right.
The one hour that I would have
to spend with you on Sundays
is the most unproductive,
stupidest things
I've ever done in my entire life.
It's not helping me.
And if you haven't gotten the signs already,
you should just stop,
and not care too much about anything.
Yes, it may be your next-of-kin's future
That you're worrying about
And I'm worrying about the exact same thing
But there are some things i don't show or tell you
So please, keep quiet.
If you're going to be strict with me,
let me tell you one thing.
It's not going to go the way you want it to be.
Slashes of the cane may never leave their mark.
Well, both of you might as well keep quiet.
I probably wouldn't go to Harvard
And that's well none of my concerns
Because I know
Few years from now, I
will
try my best to get into a good uni.
But till then,
I beg of both of you
Just keep quiet.
Both your voices
Neither soothing nor reprimanding
Is what I don't what to hear.
So if you could just care on some important things
Maybe my health or my study?
I think I would study even more
And do better
Just help me clear my doubts once in a while
I don't need both of you.
All the time.
You might say,
Oh you are so ungrateful
But let me tell you,
deep inside
I still care, and I still worry about you.
So I'm not that ungrateful
Just care when it looks like if you have to
Until then, don't talk
keep quiet
Cuz' I only feel worse and worse
when you do.
Seriously sometimes my friends
would be able to empathize more
And they understand
And one more things,
if companies search through so much data,
they would be very very very
disappointed to know how many people
do it every single day.
In the inside,
I'm almost at breaking point.
There's so many things I don't tell you.
Problems only get worse
Your advice doesn't make much of a difference.
So just keep quiet.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
Unlike Drake, we didn't start at the bottom,
We met about midway.
Two people amidst a common problem.
Darkness cloaks this part, at most I'll start to
Coast to the cause of the issues that bother
Cole the most, his heart revokes the thought
Of coming close to ignoring it farther.
I understand like a ghost, I see right through your father,
Voices don't come close to being as
Reprimanding as thoughts do.
They long for your heart to retain as much hatred as they can barter,
Until you can't stand the way that you breath or look at a person the same as you're recalling.
Much to the dismay of Blood,
I had to leave, I was falling,
Alcohol was more important than you all
And for that I'm sorry.
I tried to get away and break my chains
But veins yearn for that which takes the pain
Away and for that I only grew to know more pain.
One thing led to another and still the story's the same,
I've thrown away 5 years of my life to help me dig my own grave.
Amazingly I've made it through to write this story
And say that I've put childish things aside,
And live a better life today.
I support my son and make a living,
Just as Blood may.
As humans we're designed to seek that which
May better our emotional state,
On each individual level.
We chase that which can
Levitate our own knowledge in case there are
Discrepancies at bay.
As people, don't you want to know the full story,
I know your reputation for curiosity precedes you.
If not, why do I not deserve a chance at a sorry?
What means necessary must I take just to have a conversation?
It's quite hypocritical in fact,
But I digress in that partly.
Does trepidation rule over you,
Til you're blind to damnation?
Forevermore, you have risen,
Yet I remain uncomplacent.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 3:54 PM UTC
If I could but learn to discard a wounded piece of self
If I could part with the beautiful symmetry
Of the cogs, driving forth the machinations,
Churning with their white noise, that
Turn to shape maiming thoughts
Then I might one night close my eyes,
Not to images of words bound by self-deriding connotation,
Comprised of typos and back-strokes
But to a peaceful blackness
Yes, I might lie down, close my eyes
Out of a will for rest, not contrived
But organic and my own
And so I know this as my waking dream
Relegated to wake for the night has been
Deemed the world of painful perfection
A place where protection is offered
With a backward hand, carefully made
Patron to the lovely polished mental instruments
Used to bludgeon simplicity and idiosyncrasy
Used to leverage pressure on the scales of the heart
So to tip downward the side of known cyclic indifference
And lift upward toward heightened neglect
The side of pleasure, the side of silenced retrospect
I grow, each sleepless evening, more fearful
That the ugly, backward hand might never forgo its leverage
And, if life is a wellspring of knowledge
Feeding into a stream of lessons
Then my strife stems from reading of the
Same page in the same chapter of the same textbook
A book filled with words bound by self-deriding connotation,
Comprised of typos and back-strokes
On this page, one learns a fundamental formula
It derives the relative weights of who we are
And the happiness we might find
Through some convoluted tale of misfortune
My page was written by an ugly, backward man
So, through unsagely studies, I’ve concluded
That the art of well defined reprimanding thought
Does outweigh in its beauty, the unseen hope
Of a future left to whim and bliss, or perhaps
The simple elegance of chance, goodness unsought
So, for the first time in my life, I seek to unlearn
I seek to roll back the defining lines that once flowed
From the pen in a backward hand that yearned to sow structure
But the vaulted walls that hold the scales of one’s will
Are so dauntingly difficult to unbuild or puncture
This, truly, is the weight that each sleepless night
Bares down upon my sleepless heart, so heavy
If I cannot pull exacting, formulaic pages from my sight
I fear the only peaceful blackness I will find
Is one against no patron hand can levy.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
The best part of being an older sister
Is the recycling.
When a little sister comes to you
Wanting clothes which you outgrew
Looking bright in style.
When a little sister comes to you
With math homework; without a clue
And you can make her smile
When a little sister comes to you
Going through what you’ve been through
Seeking understanding
When a little sister comes to you
And you weave words that still hold true
Never reprimanding
When a little sister comes to you
And you know she’ll never have to do
anything the hard way
alone.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
They say that love blinds you;
That once you find “the one,”
They will be the only ones you see,
Whether it’s in a crowded room of familiar faces and strangers you’ve never met before
Or in a city with emotionless people wandering through the streets attempting to find their souls-
It’ll always be just the two of you.
Love hides all the darkness in the world,
All the evil and corruption going on around you,
But it also blinds you from seeing the truth.
You see, when you’re in love with someone,
You do whatever it takes to stay in love with that person.
You forget their flaws,
Erase all their mistakes and scars from their bodies.
You block out what others say about your relationship,
Becoming deaf to all the doubts and reprimanding of the adults that “know better.”
When you’re in love, you want to stay in love.
You want it to be just the two of you in this entirely chaotic world.
See, love makes a person blind.
It makes you walk through the Labyrinth without Ariadne’s ball of string to guide you.
It blindfolds you and refuses to hold your hand and direct you to the end.
It makes you want to do stupid things,
And it makes you want to jump off a cliff.
When you’re crazy and irrevocably in love,
You’ll go psychotic trying to make the other person happy.
You crave for their happiness so much that you forget to focus on your satisfactions.
But what happens if you’re so far in love that you’ve become accustomed to tunnel vision even when you’re far out of love?
You see, I know this girl.
She loves the idea of being in love.
She loves all the romance and the sweetness and all the attention when it comes to being in love.
She loves loving others so much that she forgot to love herself.
She’s so caught up in this idea that she almost forgot to get her head out of the clouds and place her feet on the earth for a minute.
See, I don’t believe in perfect.
There’s always something in this world that will corrupt beauty
And being close to perfect is never enough for society.
We’ve all been brought up in a universe of false hopes and harsh realities,
But we still crave for perfection,
We still want perfect.
She wants a perfect boy and a perfect life,
And it’s nice to know that someone out there is still dreaming and believing in the goodness of the world,
But deep in our veins, we know this dream is unreachable,
And I think it’s time for all of us to keep our feet on the ground and not let our heads get too caught up in the moment,
But we all know that might never happen either.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
The other morning,
As opposed to this one,
(There was indeed
Another morning)
As I walked the
10 1/2 blocks to work,
I passed by a playground
Full of post grad
Parents who dress
Real nice
Real fashionable
And all of their
Children who are
Dressed the same, in
Non gender specific
Garb, because it’s
2011 not last century
And they run and
Scream and get
Their thrift store
Clothes all *****
They laugh and I
Hear crying
And reprimanding
And ‘good job!’
And I can’t help but
See the future in
These kids, with
Their well adjusted
Parents adjusting
Them well to the world
And making sure
They follow all the
Advice in the hip
Parenting and child
Psychology books they
Read, and I see
Among the smiling
Innocent faces
Yet to be
Drug addicts
Wife beaters
Alcoholics
Strippers
Drunk drivers
Liars
Cheaters
Thieves
Heartbreakers
And the occasional
College grad
Who will be well
Adjusted
And will adjust
The child they have
At 34
Very well to the
New society
So that
Child can become
A date ******
Or a car thief
Or a vagrant
Or maybe a college
Grad who
Will be well adjusted
And adjust their child well.
Our children are the future.
Go to school, kids.
Adjust.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:37 PM UTC
Yesterday I heard the piano play
notes in my head
black and white keys
in symphony
so sweet
I heard its pure sound
hit every string
as thin as my patience
within
I heard the do's and re's
dance with the mi's
as smoothly as my mental state
I felt the reprimanding
low keys howl in awakening calls
to wake me from my drunken trance
I embraced the light hearted
high keys, as they showed me
the bright side of things
the innocence of it all
I heard a piano yesterday
play from afar, calling me
telling me, let go of everything
and listen....
just music to melt the silence away
My brain, lulled into its symphonies
I forgot that beauty is not only skin deep
I forgot that even with eyes closed
and no scenario,
you can feel beauty
I heard a piano the other day
play a harmony
just for me
about
me
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
Following her or her kin is death,
A promise of satisfaction and power,
Allure in her scent which no man knows not.
A winding trail downwards,
to summit back is a task olympic.
Lies and power she feeds to all men,
Until the breaking point, reached, lies his decision.
A continuance of relations would strip him of his name,
but re-emboss “hers” on top.
With “hers” comes pleasure and failure,
intricately interwoven so failure lies beneath the shine of her promises.
Her trap’s success now laid,
the old magic forces her to reveal the third option:
To chose not hers or his own but the name of creator.
With it comes grace, with it reprimanding, with it fullness.
When choosing this name he sees her facade falter,
Her caresses and lips, retrospectfully viewed reveal carcasses and absinthe.
Turning from the fruit and choosing the blood.
Covered in it, he is king.
He has power,
he has a name,
he has a future,
he is conqueror because of Him.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
The truth is
spring broke open,
I wish it were winter again.
Bodies about, walking
arm in arm and
no matter how much
I practice pacing my steps,
dodging the torn-cornered
slabs of concrete
to avoid breaking my stride,
my confidence, my ankle,
I always seem to stumble
with a hand interwoven in mine.
Dexterity seeps out
through my heels,
but lets be honest,
boots aren't the best attire for
sturdy, balanced walking.
This weight
(I'd guess)
presses down on my shoulder
where the collarbone meets
whatever the other bone is called,
and the person is on a stepstool
(yes, there's a person),
floating next to me as I move
and the his heel of his palm,
the meaty part,
presses where the bones meet
(could be, I'd guess, a very masculine She)
and leaning forward, tiptoed
on the top step and
the weight is coming down hard.
How anyone could walk like that!
Me, the town *******
the drunk staggering about
trying to keep footing.
Even thinking it, projecting it,
makes it true,
especially when arguing,
no, just receiving a nice, hearty
reprimanding from babushkas
(a group of them)
with their knit hats abloom,
selling cabbage and honey
outside the Belarusian kiosk.
Now, I know what you're thinking,
and yes, the honey is delicious;
but just because they're together
doesn't mean they need to be.
Boiled cabbage and honey
for colds.
And honestly, it's not the weather
to be stopping on the sidewalk
in jeans-shoes-tee-shirt
only to hear curses
(no, not swears — lit. curses)
spat out crooked mouths,
clinging to you
all the season through.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
It drives me ******* crazy
When I don't know what to say
More so even
When you look at me that way
How my mind aches
When I don't know what you're thinking
All I ask for is a word of release
To keep me from all this sinking
Black hole, quicksand, however you put it
There's no limit to the tracks that my mind can run
Every second of every minute
Say something! Do something!
I'm just idly standing
Then there it is again, that look
And I'm not reprimanding
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Self deprecation:
the act of reprimanding oneself by
belittling, undervaluing, or
disparaging oneself,
or being excessively modest.
It can be used in humour and tension release.
It's a breath of fresh air to see someone whose ego isn't the size of a hot air balloon
But maybe you shouldn't put yourself down so much
Oh god, not this again
It's not really funny anymore, it's just a bit sad
Are you okay? That was a little dark
Forgive me, I didn't realise you were allowed to express your emotions to me and not the other way around
**God you really ******* it this time**
-
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 9:45 AM UTC
We walked on fields of hellish amber,
our bare toes scraping barbed wire.
we held our naked palms out flat
so that they might feel the air thick with dust.
We walked in the black rain, dying our hair a sooty grey
and leaving vertical wrinkles on our cheeks.
We walked towards the end.
We watched the phoenix plumes rise up
then crescendo in an extinguishing fire.
we saw the mountains crumble, as if tired,
and lay in purplish rest.
We saw the shining sea stir against the coasts
and eat back the Earth.
We touched hands,
and we walked towards the end.
We saw a billion mouths demanding, reprimanding,
consuming and presuming, quiet to a hum.
We saw them crumple on driveways and in shopping malls,
murmuring so many names to the same effect.
They were still then,
but we,
we walked towards the end.
We trudged in our clothes,
shreds of some past life
we left there in the ashes.
We walked under the studded sky pierced by skyscrapers,
peeling back as easily as skin.
There, the torn fabric waltzed in a hissing breeze,
burning orange at the bulging seams.
Lopsided stars hung askew as decorations
and cartwheeled to the steady rythmn of gunfire.
Swaying, we danced along,
as we walked towards the end.
Scorched prairie grass crumbled beneath our feet.
Ringing filled us, and we broke cleanly in two.
Asphalt melted and mingled with the crust
and buildings knelt to pray.
We laid down side by side,
brushing our fingertips.
The sky bled lukewarm tears above us.
We knitted our hands together
and unfolded ourselves upon packed dirt,
black and singed,
as angels stitched the lacerated heavens.
We rested, tiny scars on Earth's craggy face.
We nicknamed every star and every worm,
orange with nuclear light.
Laughing, we closed our eyes,
flowing with the fire and the night.
Our hands were sure and firm,
as we drifted out of sight,
fading towards the end.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
The little girl slides into her slippers,
supple leather gloves for her tiny feet.
Her hair, though not the same copper shade,
still shows tints of auburn in the light.
I brush back a few stray hairs into place,
back to the nape of her neck, where mine stayed for so many years.
I gaze at my shoes in the corner,
the ribbons limp with depression, the elastic dog-eared and sad.
The satin is the dusty rose of evening.
I fluff her tutu and twirl her around;
Chaines come easily to her,
Just as they do to me.
And though even now I strike a picture-perfect arabesque,
no audience is there to watch.
I have passed the recital stage in life,
meaning I am a shut-down factory, left to rust;
no longer am I considered a ballerina.
No longer am I entitled a dancer,
but deep inside,
past the mismatched legs and crooked knees
and twisted pelvises,
I still am.
Her eyelashes blink up at me, and I grasp her hand
as the piano begins.
She sighs and ballet runs across the stage.
I wish the magic came without the reprimanding.
Her green eyes sparkle and her feet sing.
In my little sister, I see myself.
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:21 PM UTC
The good boss is measured by, the way they treat people.
Speak to people.
Do their employees.
The good boss, can ask you on your off day to help out?
And without hesitation , you assist them in a vital situation.
Because when you need assistance, they return the favor.
The good boss, could author a book.
Offering suggestions on ways to keep employees spirit up.
***** know RESPECT is apart of any conversation.
Even those bad bosses depends on the good boss.
If they can't tolerate you.
It comes down to the good boss assisting you in a vital situation.
It's easy to fire someone.
As, it is to hire someone.
But you're looking for that personality that blend in kindly with others.
To accomplish getting the job done.
The good boss tone when reprimanding someone.
Doesn't come off rude or cruel.
But in away of having the one they discipline mystified, if they were.
Even if they have to suspend someone.
The someone took it in strive.
Because they were treated with kindness.
Which most bad employers doesn't comprehend.
Then some begins to question, why someone after them?
When all they need was requirements of a good boss.
Employees know bosses jobs are to achieve goals.
But if they are treat co-workers, with honor , they achieve so much more.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
You are now at my gate
and let me just state...
Ignorance is not bliss,
Ignorance is what spits,
On our society,
Why does it have to be,
So mean,
Coming in different varieties
Stupidity, closed minded beings,
Overdosed feigns
On the drug of another’s uncertainty,
On the drug of another’s complexity.
Ignorance is what hits,
When one has been reduced down to fits,
Of rage due to a lack of understanding.
Due to an abundance of reprimanding with no reasoning.
Take your fake, already set in place traits
and leave them at the gate.
When I can feel you feel what i feel or
when you do not judge based on preconceived ideals,
You may then pass in through the gates to my consciousness
and my awareness.
Mind you it is not a matter of hypocrisy
but a requirement to consider my identity.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:11 PM UTC
To my dearest husband
only 3 years we've been married,
but now for you, for our marriage
against me
I will truly take a stand.
I always thought that a "help-meet" meant
to "help" the other person,
become what they "should"
or "could" become. To reach their highest potential.
I know now that lie was not heaven sent.
As it is believed by some.
I must tell you
that I have just recently discovered
how to be your wife
and not to be your mother.
I just started to see instead
what I should be doing
to be your help-meet and
your dearest friend.
I pray you will forgive me,
with this sincere apology.
I am so sorry
it was always you
I was reprimanding,
without even noticing
who I was becoming.
Now I promise to own my own responsibility.
I will no longer try to be your conscience
but to love and admire you forever,
however bad the weather.
I promise to do this for you
fully
and
completely.
You see the truth is that
I believe...
you are so much better than me!
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
It's insane that we could keep up,
to the noises around us,
screaming,
telling us off,
reprimanding us in loud tones.
I confined myself in a room,
only almost absolute silence
and the blowing of the fan heard,
never would I want,
to give up this tranquility.
It's too noisy outside,
even whispers could be shouts and screams,
I feel the world spinning,
my breath,
everything is so suffocating.
Words becomes aloud,
drowning in deep thoughts of others,
almost feeling abstract to stabbing,
depression kicks in,
and I'm not the same.
Please stop the voices,
the loud calls of unwanted words,
the clarity of speech.
It hurts.
It hurts a lot.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
I am awoken by a child’s faint cry.
As I look around I see all these women; waiting oh so patiently.
Each waits for a nurse to call her name.
For a man to hold her hand.
For those obscure nights to dissipate into a dream.
For the bumps on their bellies
to be worth a soul, a sin, a miraculous thing.
No, no one has a ring..
There’s an awkward silence.
The siblings of the unborn interrupt.
Some fragile women secretly thankful to be distracted away from their ambivalent thoughts and trepidation seek refuge in reprimanding the unruly children.
A tumult of questions inundate my mind.
Incessant raindrops leaving puddles of muddy thoughts.
There is a girl across the room she had shared with the group that her husband had gone to the restroom the day before and would soon join her. I fake a pitiful smile and yet hope that he does.
Until a woman dressed in white yells my name and I clutch my empty hand.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC