Quotes about despise, page 3
The Caliber Of The Worlds
The caliber caresses a human being with rationale,
This thinking distends and preoccupies other thoughts
And concepts that we despise, like the old punctures.
This tendency to despise mollifies the despotism
As the careers of the rich concentrate and are regional.
Contemplative mnemonics shall appeal to the astute,
The connectivity arises from accentuation,
Forward do the suns shine in this indented universe.
For it expands and loosens the broader hurries
And it hastens forwards little by little with expanding
Cries and fortunes of the cries that die and live.
The contingent beliefs relive and retry to overstate,
This philosophy regarded by some as illiterate
Is really so intelligent that worlds smash like the air.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Subliminal Verses 4
So my love
The time has come
To quit our love
And send it skywards
Since I was young
This love just passed me buy
You try to speak
The words get stuck
And all you do is sigh
In the coldest spots
Inside your room
You cry
These never ever changing fears
Are taking over everything
You thought you could change the world
But you couldn’t even change yourself
After your worlds dispersed
And all your pain and knowledge
Is purple like the sky
From what I see
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poem by David Powley
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381
i
Many kiss the hand
they wish cut off
ii
we despise the pleasure of pleasing people
whom we despise
iii
The lips are smiling,
but is the heart?
iv
A hypocrite is the kind of politician
who would cut down a redwood tree,
then mount the stump
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To The Hypocrite
i
Many kiss the hand
they wish cut off
ii
we despise the pleasure of pleasing people
whom we despise
iii
The lips are smiling,
but is the heart?
iv
A hypocrite is the kind of politician
who would cut down a redwood tree,
then mount the stump
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Remembrance of a Child
This poem is written for all children taken from this world by rape and abuse.
Remembrance of a Child
By: Adam M. Snow
Remembrance of a child,
born tender and mild,
not an age past eight.
Such innocent filled eyes,
this world despise,
now lying in this grave.
She would laugh and play,
every night and every day,
with that smile upon her face.
She could light up the world,
when she danced and twirled,
now her essence is broken.
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poem by Adam M. Snow
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6th April 1651 L'Amitie: To Mrs. M. Awbrey
Soule of my soule! my Joy, my crown, my friend!
A name which all the rest doth comprehend;
How happy are we now, whose sols are grown,
By an incomparable mixture, One:
Whose well acquainted minds are not as neare
As Love, or vows, or secrets can endeare.
I have no thought but what's to thee reveal'd,
Nor thou desire that is from me conceal'd.
Thy heart locks up my secrets richly set,
And my breast is thy private cabinet.
Thou shedst no teare but what but what my moisture lent,
And if I sigh, it is thy breath is spent.
United thus, what horrour can appeare
Worthy our sorrow, anger, or our feare?
Let the dull world alone to talk and fight
And with their vast ambitions nature fright;
Let them despise so innocent a flame,
While Envy, pride, and faction play their game:
But we by Love sublim'd so high shall rise,
To pitty Kings, and Conquerours despise,
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poem by Katherine Philips
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My Work Ethic
I make what I do look easy.
So naturally,
Those who believe they know me...
Think there is no effort applied.
And insist I could get a real job,
If I tried.
And they have real jobs they despise.
And I can say,
My work ethic is real.
I am devoted to what I do.
And with me that is the appeal.
I may not have money they can respect.
Or finances to purchase what I wish for next.
But there is one thing I know no one with me can bet...
I wont be seen shopping at the mall seeking a happiness.
And I can say,
My work ethic is real.
I am devoted to what I do.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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L'Amitie: To Mrs. M. Awbrey.
Soule of my soule! my Joy, my crown, my friend!
A name which all the rest doth comprehend;
How happy are we now, whose sols are grown,
By an incomparable mixture, One:
Whose well acquainted minds are not as neare
As Love, or vows, or secrets can endeare.
I have no thought but what's to thee reveal'd,
Nor thou desire that is from me conceal'd.
Thy heart locks up my secrets richly set,
And my breast is thy private cabinet.
Thou shedst no teare but what but what my moisture lent,
And if I sigh, it is thy breath is spent.
United thus, what horrour can appeare
Worthy our sorrow, anger, or our feare?
Let the dull world alone to talk and fight
And with their vast ambitions nature fright;
Let them despise so innocent a flame,
While Envy, pride, and faction play their game:
But we by Love sublim'd so high shall rise,
To pitty Kings, and Conquerours despise,
[...] Read more
poem by Katherine Philips
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Vindictivity
Suddenly those once feeling victimized,
By others who found it easy...
To slander and despise them with creative lies,
Have found that keeping faith
Propels them above such pests.
Forgiving with hearts that forget...
And being themselves to allow passing petty tests.
'Vindictivity' doesn't cross their minds!
'Vindicitivty' is no friend for them to find.
Leaving behind such sad affairs to those,
Stylish in resentment...
And dressed with frowns exposed!
Rolling eyes and casting glares.
As if these postures,
Warrant a retort of childish dares.
Could care less to participate in such affairs...
The life they choose to live,
Is in a goodness fulfilled...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Constant and Self Imposing
To feel not done,
With more to do.
With more to accomplish,
And much more to pursue.
Hoping what one did,
Has represented one's best.
But no one really knows that better.
No one but the one...
Who critiques oneself,
Harsher than the rest.
To satisfy in submission undenied,
A mission with a goal to complete.
No socializing comes to one...
That one who with self competes.
And to understand this,
No one can.
No one...
Than the one who sacrifices sleep.
Time and time and time again,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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