"averting" poems
C-Currently the subject of much conversation
L-Learning of its effects through information
I-Internationally scientists are using education
M-Mankind's pollution is causes this situation
A-Altering our ways may stop the devastation
T-Time isn't on the side of the world's population
E-Ever we should be aware of its manifestation
C-Cycles of weather becoming stranger by the day
H-Heat is building up in the earth's rocks and clay
A-Averting further damage cannot be put on delay
N-Neglecting our response to the planet wont pay
G-Globally hotter and wetter conditions will parlay
E-Everyone needs to heed the message of this day
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Impatience rode and passed me by,
I caught her looking down on me,
cuttingly,
with her gems for eyes.
scornfully,
sighting me
up
&
down.
Laughingly,
the sadistic mirth in her vision
spoke:
"Ha-ha,
Yes,
I've caught your attention,
how little you know;
a simple race with men
&
your limbs fail.
How then will you run with horses?"
I took wisdom from that evil look of thought.
In that moment,
I pulled
on
My Covering
much tighter,
that
Humble
but
Faith-full
Cloak,
I wrapped around me
firmly
averting my eyes
to the blazing
fire
before
me,
warming myself
in the comfort of its gaze,
patiently waiting...
…waiting
for horses.
© Qwey.ku
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
You get the know it alls
Their noses stuck rigidly in books like bookmarks
You get the geeks
Gamers with eyes shrunk; shiny braces flashing
You get the quiet ones
Assessing everything going on; owlish blinks
You get the cheeky ones
Hilarious antics all around; always surprising
You get the nosy ones
With obnoxious questions and averting eyes
You get the prissy neat freaks
Panicking religiously over messes; loud moaner
You get the bossy buck tooth's
Spit spraying whilst barking out orders; drone-like
You get the wannabes
*Prepping up as the popular chicks; total **** ups*
And you get me
With total judgement and disdain evident
Making me a **classic ***** ; plastic
With her typical high school stereotypes
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
it's all occupied with dark fumes of flatulence
the bus hanger
it's teething and earning a low ceilinged thrive
regularly cleaned the roof portal
with a large drooping eye
brags of blue sky
the coaches are idling
fretful to be burdened and go
elsewhere
the public urinals
there's a strong smell of iron
are the morning users dehydrated
malnourished or ill ?
i feel a little flated
elsewhere
in the waiting area
a neatly turned out teen
wants to give their seat to the infirm
does not and hurts inside averting
(a public act of courtesy
would after all be an embarrassing one)
attention back to the importance
my friend has ungreeted me
i have wished him ease
and he has passed between the cordons
amongst amiable cattle
he pauses at the authorities verification
who in turn
tails them to load up their luggage
and become their driver
- goodbye my friend
Feb 7, 2024
Feb 7, 2024 at 5:57 PM UTC
how easy it is to write a poem
of unrequited love
an ode to that insatiable hunger
that lives unwelcome in the pit of
my stomach
and slowly eats away at me
gnawing a black hole into that space
an emptiness i couldn't look at
its darkness burned brighter than
the eclipsed sun
who always called with the most
beautiful voice and promised that
if i simply stopped averting my eyes
i would most certainly become one with you
and i forsake my sight
to have your heat
your radiation from all parts of the spectrum
to burn my traitorous eyes right out of their sockets.
how different it is to write
of contentment and perhaps even
a love that i can reach out and touch
without having it sublimate each atom of my being
and reduce me to a radioactive ash
scattered to the wind.
it's a love that i can submerge myself in
it presses in all around and the
mega-Pascals of pressure simply reach
a placid equilibrium with my porous skin
i breathe it in and my lungs
somehow learn to pull the oxygen from
the molecules of liquid desire and vitreous joy
and it fuels my body
infiltrating and inhabiting every cell
feeding my muscles as i
sensuously move my body
fluid as the frigid water around me.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
Yes, I want to be your guitar
That guitar that you’ve fallen in love with at first glance
You can’t let it go; you’ve already carved its features in your heart
I would steal its position, if I only had the chance
You tried averting your eyes from it and looked for other one
It was expensive after all, you can’t afford one
But you did all means in the end, just to have it in your hands
If it was me, would you have done everything you can?
Finally, it was all yours, I was happy for you
With that even brighter beaming smile, who would not?
You started spending time together, like a couple would do
And then I started doubting, I am happy for you, right?
You brought it home and even slept with it
Ah! I was so envious, how I wish those arms were wrapped around me
The two of you under the rain, walking against the wind
Whereas I can only write our names under an umbrella, wishing it can be you and me
I dedicated all love songs to you as you composed your songs for it
Expressing your overflowing love, your undying happiness, it was all packaged in the songs
And though I was so hurt, your songs are always on repeat
Listening and undergoing the same excruciating pain all day long
I’m a mere fan, with a paper and a pen on both hopeless hands
You’re shining brightly on the stage with your guitar, a wonderful superstar
I wonder when this stupidity started, but this poem was made because of this great distance
If this unrequited, one-sided feeling will someday reach you, I’ll tell you, I want to be your guitar
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
Suicide is not an option
Everything has to be done with caution
Be it wrong accusation or depression
Taking your life will reduce our population
Believe me, all you need is affection
Speak to someone who'll relieve you of your oppression
Who'll give you nothing but compassion
You may need trust and care in addition
When facing life challenges and tribulation
Take not suicide for a compensation
Try to have a little comprehension
Of the afterlife using your discretion
And also have a little conversation
Involving you and your intuition
Considering suicide may be as a result of impression
Or thought in abstraction
Or even to punish a relation
No matter the condition
It doesn't worth your life as a rendition
If you do plan of taking this action
I beg you take this into consideration
And do a bit of cogitation
That suicide is not an option
Though, it's taking it toll on the nation
Leading many to quick expiration
My fella, suicide is not an option
Try to do some reconciliation
And make sure to somebody you mention
To get your mind in a good position
Or perhaps it might change your situation
And set you in a new direction
Again I say suicide is not an option
Take this into admonition
That your afterlife may as well be in inversion
That live each day with vision
Devote smile to your face a portion
Do activities in admiration and jubilation
And in you life begins a resurrection
Thereby killing the ulterior notion
And also averting a possible perdition
Because suicide is never an option.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 5:07 AM UTC
beginning optional weekday
wielding officialese words
triggering hectic exchanges
determining original gangsters
distributing invisible data
refreshing urbane novelties
yelping our universe
chaining awkward neologisms
scripting encrypted e-books
tackling hacking exercises
cavaliering auric tumult
trivializing our obsolescence
preparing online pentimento
alternating rainy themes
allocating numerous droplets
meandering overseas missions
averting raging tornado
losing outscored lightning
hacking impish 'sblood!
alienating nival drumlins
hearing erudite raconteurs
beer-drinking on thursdays
finding obnoxious rabblerousers
finding upscale negroni
seeing ubiquitous purple
cavorting horse ebooks
inventing twitter subgenre
liking otherworldly vocals
initiating new greatness
defining ambient yesterday?
defining ambient yesterday
fancying oneiric retreat
hailing optimistic chicago
kiboshing expired yogurt
rushing airborne blackhawks
bestowing infinite shivarees
needing baller acronym
fleeting ideal notions
alerting left-coast state
featuring unquiet nights
finalizing orangeball results
nodding occidental warriors
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
Distance is a powerful word.
A word that touches on everything.
Defined as 'The amount of space between two things.'
Space that was added and could be filled up.
Space that is unnecessary. Space that was not wanted.
For example:
The distance between our hands.
From far, a wave at first sight,
Never knowing that your touch,
Will mean so much to me in the future.
From close, together,
A gentle clasp, a perfect fit.
Never letting go: Reassurance.
Everlasting bliss.
The distance between our bodies.
From far, as strangers, before
We've had our moments together.
Your presence grows as the distance closes.
From close, as lovers,
Touching, intertwining,
The kissing of skin, the sharing of warmth,
Making love.
The distance between our eyes.
From far, as acquaintances,
Averting glances of interest,
Curious in every inner thought.
From close, every smile,
Every emotion, more meaningful than before.
Every minute detail shown in awe.
Every moment clad in romance.
The distance between us.
Physically, Emotionally,
Mentally, Metaphorically.
To me, 'Distance' is a powerful word.
I hate it.
Because if there is any distance between me and
Your eyes, your hands,
Your body, your everything.
I would not be myself. I will break apart. I will not be whole again without you.
I never want to be distant from you.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
I used to know you like that
I used to know you better
I used to know the details of your smile
I used to know the workings of your brain
But we grew apart, miles apart
And now you're to far from my reach
And the distance hurts, it kills so sweetly
And I don't realize how far you are until you're gone
And I've missed you so badly lately
I miss you more than I miss myself
I miss you more than the old me who
Missed you better before you'd even left
I'm sure in some years, we'll have awkward chats
And I'm sure in some years I'll not be so bitter
And I know you think in some years we'll be friends
And have borderline domestic conversation about our kids
But I miss you now and I'll miss you after those years
I'll miss the easy camaraderie we've had from the start
I'll miss our borderline romantic relationship
I'll miss people asking if you were mine and vice versa
I miss the way you used to pull me flush against you
And I miss how I'd wind my arms round your neck
I miss how I felt your heartbeat beside mine
I miss how safe, how loved, how dependent I felt then
I miss how you'd calm me down with your presence
I miss how you'd take care of me, though I fought it tooth and nail
I miss feeling like I could try to overcome my fears to be with you
I miss how oblivious you were to how I felt, no matter what I did
I miss your irritating smile that always makes me do the same
I miss they way I used to feel when I wrote poetry about you
I miss the way you tried to hold me, though I was too scared to let you
I miss the way you looked when I mentioned other people purposefully
I miss the way we never said those three words; we weren't that far
I miss the way you broke me down and I let you, though it hurt
I miss the way I rebuilt myself to need you less and ended up needing you more
I miss the way you smiled when I couldn't do without you
And now we talk around the elephant in the room softly
And I hate averting my eyes like this, but I can't stop
I hate how we're just friends, even though it could be more
I hate how it should be more. It should be more, and you know it
I hate how I'm moving on, finding other people to fill the hole you left
I hate how I still feel empty, even though it's not been long enough to call it love
I hate how much it hurts to see you, though I mask the pain and smile
And I hate how I miss you even more than I miss myself
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
The Lung.
The broken bone branches hang heavy off knuckled tree. As cold and uninviting as wrapped meat in cellophane prison cells and those sweating milk bottles left on doorsteps. Women cry with the blackbirds as day breaks, rousing their reluctant nests.
As the shadows trawl in from chicken farms and slaughterhouses, across the squalid estates and past a debt collectors party. A ***** drinks his soot like coffee and waits for another years tide to retreat. Holding pith less ambitions and unmentionable qualifications, stewardess pass, uniformed thoughts and averting faces..
The rusty playgrounds sink into the fermenting wood chips, and a plastic bag runs through the scene; only to commit suicide in the oil ribbon canal. The chemical clouds thicken into a duvet of sky whilst arrows of a natural sun run home with tears of fear on their hot faces.
Down here the street lights flicker, and the patched uniforms drape off children sick with the flu that hit the school like a plague. Herding like cattle into the classrooms, to learn about the natural world
that is most unearthly to there reason.
Lunch bells ring from factories and the sky has drained to a sick -off white. The chip shop sells butties with no sauce nor bun, which machine like men guzzle and slurp.
The car parks lay stagnant in the distance and pigeons too fat to fly lay droppings on the bronze statue of a crying hero. As the roaring stops from the factories and high visibility coats are hung, the sky bruises and the men fill the pubs, until wives with children hung on washing lines drag there sweat soaked frames to the table, only to indulge them in a row.
Night creeps in, bringing with it the hooded figures that flutter along the streets. Music plays from a vacant building and seems to brighten the night.
A silhouette is seen standing on the edge, watching the busses bellow run like migrating snails, filled with the elderly and too young.
Cigarettes infest the streets creating a carpet of ash and litter. The city survives, remaining grey, never blinking, never heard.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:20 AM UTC
a man sits
at the bottom
of the steps
not blocking the path
but he cannot be missed
begging alms
from the myriad
who climb and descend
in droves
the cup he holds
is barely weighted
by the meagre amount
he has received
he patiently wishes goodwill
to all who pass
despite their lack of offerings
even though
the majority will ignore
purposefully averting their eyes
or apologetically decline
to part with
any lose change
instead saving their coins
to pay their entry
to marvel at
the gilded interior
of the church
whose teachings include
"love thy neighbour"
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 2:42 PM UTC
It's fine, daddy will walk through the door soon. You promised. But she knew he was sitting in the driveway, soaking up the light of the moon.
Outside in a driveway
A man sits and waits.
His family has long given up on calling
Dinner is on the table.
They try to carry on as normal
Exchanging small talk
Work and the weather.
It's fine, daddy will be walking in soon. You promised. But she knew he was sitting in the driveway, soaking up the light of the moon.
Averting their gazes
From the fiery eyes
Of the tailgate
Shining beams through the window.
Wake up. It's not fine; it's cold outside and they need you to be alright.
He knows what he's doing
But truly he has no control.
All he is sure of is that when he comes home
He wants to be all there.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
Your Face is the color of painful secrets
Or perhaps just pain
Your friendliness kills the vicious realm of
Myself that I rule
Your averting eyes scream
And your false smile weeps
Speak to me,
Ms. Agony
Tell me your pain
Let me wash it away
show me the real smile
that hides behind your torment
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
Shifting vistas
Freeing shackles
Playing it smart
Making it casual
Averting agitations
Eluding expectations
The finest tool to fight disillusionment
The smartest step to shun disenchantment
An act of precocity
An art of rationality
Avoidance.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
You said you can read what my smile says
Can you read my eyes too?
We sit in silence and I stare into your eyes
Painfully averting mine
You know what happens next and so do I
But can you read it in my eyes when they scream
I love you
I've left more than a few emotional gashes on your soul
And as you lean over crying in front of your car
I wonder if you can hear my tears fall
As my eyes beg you not to leave me,
But I'm the one who told you to go
Another day, another **** up
Weeks turn into hell and
Months breed tragedy
I'm losing it all and it's my own fault
For not stopping myself from investing my heart
Into two different, amazing people
You ask if people really do what others tell them
Yet you know I've done just that
To save a chance with someone
That possess my feelings unexplainably
You love me, you're in love with me
And I love you
But I'm lost
I can't live like this anymore
I can't handle trying to understand my feelings
When my heart is torn in two
One half is miles away,
The other is on its way,
Far far away from here
I'm sorry.
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
A sword of awareness can be drawn to deflect all sides
Averting misleading deception
Striking immense fear into the heart of those
Who can see your apparent perception
A razor-sharp discernment will cut straight to the chase
Shrewdly seeing all in undying motion
Rendering powerful blows to break down a charade
Bringing a swift end to chaotic commotion
The spirit of instinct wields your sword of awareness
Sharpened by the vision of your third eye
While knowing rules the heart of the sword bearer
Gallantly fighting through chaos and lies
Do you have hold of the hilt of your sword of awareness
Lifting your blade of discernment up high
Are your edges of perception sharpened and ready
To slice through the chaos and lies?
Aug 15, 2010
Aug 15, 2010 at 11:05 AM UTC
Recluse
beneath congestion of cigarette smoke
and spirits
a crippled voice
deteriorates
His mornings are bleak;
Rise
to the sink
to the shower
to the wardrobe
to the door
to meet the day
Slacks, overcoat, and loafers
topped off with some novelty tie
from the local drug store
He coasts along the brick-stone walk-ways
careful not to place his feet upon
cracks or cross a path with a black cat
A superstitious man he is
a white rabbits foot tucked beneath
his ankle socks
a turkey wishbone key-chain clanging against
his satin-lined pocket
and a four-leaf clover preserved in
saran-wrap pinned against his chest
With each stride
he nears the corner market
and purchases a pack of Perdomo
along with a bottle of unlabeled *****
concealing it bellow the buttons of the coat
He then exchanges with the cashier and exists
His journey leads him around the block
and passed pedestrians
only to be reunited with his stoop
The cold concrete is inviting
he sets himself in
on the third step
and prods his pockets
removing his lite and Perdomo's
for better
use
aflame they go
between crackled lips
Greeted with the sour beverage
his face molds like dry leather
crinkles and all
in reaction to the addicting
bitterness
His eyes pick out people from a crowd
the business man who hurries on by
to important to give a hoot
the youth of who laugh in mockery
yet to prideful to admit they're foolish
the tourist twisting the map above their face
searching corner streets a sign
the woman who bustles her child through
avoiding contact
with the man
who sits on the stoop
Not person goes by that
he wishes he were
he is perfect
perfectly content
in his subliminal life
The smoke rises and falls
from his throat
he wheezes
averting from his train of thought
it wasn't important either way
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 12:22 AM UTC
Against the gentlest ashen bones n’ flesh
I brush my skin and devour this gest
Driveling to stretch these moments last
For let me relish this spell afore;
My beloved becomes my precious past
On this illusory floor of lustrous dreams
I smash the glass of self-esteem
Tapping and whirling until I’m bereaved
For let me evanesce in pulse afore;
The hour is struck of my beloved’s leave
I pluck the leaves of my insanity n’ grief
And brew it well with my rusty belief
On this unsullied tongue I taste the wine
For let me drink before they lift;
Walls around my beloved’s shrine
Over the tormented waters;
I build a wharf and cast my woes
And I lay in peace as a sleeping child
Whilst averting noises n’ my cries
For let me rest in peace afore;
Veils are laid as my beloved dies
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Astilleros De Veracruz
Independence street.
~~~~~~~
The summer sun went down on our love long ago
But in my heart I feel the same old after glow
A love so beautiful in every way
we let it slip away
I was too young to understand to ever know and comprehend.
You my Adam and me your Eve
owned our treasure,
buried in paradise by a stream;
all lost upon a hillside stump.
where the road bent in.
There I've read between the lines
your love was written not
in any shifting sand but in heart.
The Earth's sand doons account
for the measure of my sorrow
for our loss.
Recovering that memory chip saved
my life averting neverending
pain an upside down cross.
A love so beautiful a love so free
A love for you and me
And when I think of you I fall in love still again as every good man is taken.
A love so beautiful in every way.
Your love now transfers to my new love finding me adrift in that dream.
A love so beautiful it is written
In poem, and in song.
Seen in movies, operas
and lullaby's to heal hearts strong.
Stripping the mind of misery
and pain as lost is found.
A love so beautiful it's read sparkling
as diamonds in shifting sands.
A love so beautiful kept secret
in our cave of wonders for lovers
writing daily to one another
where magic and true love abounds.
A kind of love to everlast.
~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
Approved by Rdd and
Michael Bolton in Hollyeood.
Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 9:09 PM UTC
How shall I tell with tinseled word
The beauty that is thine
Can tongue so rough or phrase absurd
Express creation divine
If thy hand by chance would brush
Then clouds, course as gravel fly
Lest they be touched and with jagged husk
Disgrace the vaulted sky
A glance be cast from thine eye alone
The sapphire brought to shame
Must steal away no more than stone
Its blazing fire tame
Remove thy veil, thy countenance revealed
Glorious Sol his face must hide
Averting his gaze, his luster concealed
Giving place of pride
Should thy lips favoring, a kiss bestow
Rubies abased, on bended knee
Acknowledging a hue beyond that they know
Become versed in humility
If poor verse could induce thee to concede
One exquisite facet of form or face
Then thine eyes and mine should be agreed
Upon thy incomparable grace
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
Your words gave me open wounds that are incapable of healing..
The moment you said, "I have no feelings for you," cuts right through my very soul. It leaves an opening through my shallow being welcoming the next words you are about to bestow.
"You are not just my type," it's like raging bolts of electricity running through my body and I can't move, I can't even raise a finger to tell you to stop.. Please, stop this bleeding.
I was about to regain control of my senses but you added, "we can still be friends though," that it's as if nothing happened. Like my feelings never happened, like you never listened, like you didn't cut me open, like you didn't have me bleeding to death, like you never throw me daggers in form of words.
And you asked, for the first time, "are you okay?" I gathered all my strength to forestall my voice from breaking as I retorted, "I'm good." I bit my lip the moment my mouth turns like a time bomb that's a few seconds away from explosion and I'm victorious.
The words "it just hurts a lot," didn't escape from my mouth averting myself from going to the place you've given me. Say, friendzone?
I watched you walked away realizing you actually helped me by closing off the arteries of my wounds by giving me a cold treatment.
I mouthed, "thank you," but you didn't see it. Thank you for releasing my favorite demon, hatred..
..this way, I will prevent myself from massive destruction that is yearning to make me feel something good, something vibrant, something lighthearted.. Say, like love?
Thank you for leaving me wounds that covers my body, and soon enough it will be scars that will remind me of how painful it is to make someone look at you the exact same way you're looking at them. Confucius quote, "there is one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one's life: Reciprocity."
..But reciprocity is not a decree.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC