Quotes about cursing, page 6
Goodbye to a Nun
Avoiding the mockery of flowers
And cursing the sun in the sky,
I wonder why you had to turn your face from me
And our friendship had to die.
All the lonely, meaningless hours stretch ahead
And it makes me want to cry
That you couldn't be more personal
And give your Iron God the lie.
I curse the sarcastic sun
And the gaiety of flowers
And watch the little flame of faith you kindled flicker and die.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The harsh cursing of dogs
The harsh cursing of dogs
at criminals that wander outside,
trains that pass noisily,
drawing out their long whistles,
when trucks sound
as if they are rushing somewhere
like battle tanks,
is disturbing and suddenly awakes me
but outside it’s a golden fairy world
where the moon hangs bewitching
glowing one-eyed,
with branches moving somewhat
in the light breeze
and stars are shining like diamonds
in the black sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Consolation
Little's the good to sit and grieve
Because the serpent tempted Eve.
Better to wipe your eyes and take
A club and go out and kill a snake.
What do you gain by cursing Nick
For playing her such a scurvy trick?
Better go out and some villain find
Who serves the devil, and beat him blind.
But if you prefer, as I suspect,
To philosophize, why, then, reflect:
If the cunning rascal upon the limb
Hadn't tempted her she'd have tempted him.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Opinions Are What they Are
Ratings like critics...
Seldom change the ingredients
Of recipes tasted,
Selected to mix and feed!
Opinions are what they are.
AND that depends on who and where you are,
With or without an appetite to digest...
Only that which you alone will approve!
The rest of it is flourished in fluff...
Or rebuffed by choice!
With one exception!
Obscenities!
A cursing chef is rarely heard or seen!
And could care less.
As long as what is served is eaten.
That is the only concern!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Songs Set To Music: 26.
Some kind angel, gently flying,
Moved with pity at my pain,
Tell Corinna I am dying
Till with joy we meet again.
Tell Corinna, since we parted
I have never known delight,
And shall soon be broken-hearted
If I longer want her sight.
Tell her how her lover, mourning,
Thinks each lazy day a year,
Cursing every morn returning,
Since Corinna is not here.
Tell her, too, not distant places,
Will she be but true and kind,
Join'd with time and change of faces,
E'er shall shake my constant mind.
poem by Matthew Prior
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The End Of Chase
Life is a shattered dream,
That guarantees no realization,
We all chase delusions,
Of smells and colours,
Till we reach the farthest end:
The point of no return,
Where darkness wraps us all
And in the mist of obscurity,
The chase of life ends,
In remorse and regret,
By cursing, blaming ourselves
Amid the vanishing hallucinations,
And confronting reality.
Ah! Then we are left behind,
All alone in the form of carcasses,
Being dined by the Vulture of Time.
By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Obscene And Obsolete
When a game is fixed,
And there are suspicions of it...
Those minds behind such misdeeds,
Are as outdated as the act perform...
To satisfy those insecure,
Who could not on leveled ground...
With others compete.
Especially if what is done,
Has become obvious and elementary.
Like the shocking of one who expresses,
Cursing and sex is openly today addressed.
And they seek their own comfort zones in disbelief,
To complain what should be censored...
When their perceptions are the ones obscene and obsolete.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Annoyance In The Garden
I am distaste, I am the watcher of moons,
Cursing mystical realms is my carefulness.
The macabre noise burdens my soul like the care
I give and create for the purpose of annoyance.
I heave a boulder to the edge of the soil
I call my garden of noise and sounds, all birds.
It is a bewailing sound, siren of strong disaster,
Forming a grief in my heart so strongly that
Vivid images make my life unbearable.
Vapours machinate the resonance of the afternoon,
Burning is the soil from the sound of the noise.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Depression
Everyone has this secret confession
At times, suffers inadequency and Depression
Feeling of lowliness and having not enough
Sometimes your ask is ‘material possessions'
At sea most of time, floating in critism
Touching the lows of blue and dejection
Things go bad n loose track
Its Life, has Downturns and Recessions
Stop feelling wretched and hapless
Life's beautiful, your cursing is transgression
"Adopt the pace of nature, its patience"
Times always in flux, So, misery stays? Out of Question.
poem by Samima Shah
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Days of Darkness
Rats
In their thousands
creeping over the desolate land
scouring for food - for life
The stench was sickening
The sky black, thickening
so no light passed through
Ants
In their millions
crawling through the empty houses
looking for crumbs - anything
dead bodies all over
or writhing in pain
as the skies darken again
Humans
In their hundreds
Staggering through the empty streets
In their hunt for companionship - and food
[...] Read more
poem by Penni Currie
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