"deflects" poems
How this **** fable instructs
And mocks! Here's the parody of that moral mousetrap
Set in the proverbs stitched on samplers
Approving chased girls who get them to a tree
And put on bark's nun-black
Habit which deflects
All amorous arrows. For to sheathe the ****** shape
In a scabbard of wood baffles pursuers,
Whether goat-thighed or god-haloed. Ever since that first Daphne
Switched her incomparable back
For a bay-tree hide, respect's
Twined to her hard limbs like ivy: the puritan lip
Cries: 'Celebrate Syrinx whose demurs
Won her the frog-colored skin, pale pith and watery
Bed of a reed. Look:
Pine-needle armor protects
Pitys from Pan's assault! And though age drop
Their leafy crowns, their fame soars,
Eclipsing Eva, Cleo and Helen of Troy:
For which of those would speak
For a fashion that constricts
White bodies in a wooden girdle, root to top
Unfaced, unformed, the nipple-flowers
Shrouded to suckle darkness? Only they
Who keep cool and holy make
A sanctum to attract
Green virgins, consecrating limb and lip
To chastity's service: like prophets, like preachers,
They descant on the serene and seraphic beauty
Of virgins for virginity's sake.'
Be certain some such pact's
Been struck to keep all glory in the grip
Of ugly spinsters and barren sirs
As you etch on the inner window of your eye
This ****** on her rack:
She, ripe and unplucked, 's
Lain splayed too long in the tortuous boughs: overripe
Now, dour-faced, her fingers
Stiff as twigs, her body woodenly
Askew, she'll ache and wake
Though doomsday bud. Neglect's
Given her lips that lemon-tasting droop:
Untongued, all beauty's bright juice sours.
Tree-twist will ape this gross anatomy
Till irony's bough break.
8.6k
Would it Fease to make Connections secure,
The Outrageous Magic such Form does cast
Why not the Flu, whose Substance membered, cure
The Fly's own Happiness which would not last
With Furnace Embers burning your Hour's Spent
That Diamond Red of Sparkles unfade
Pride honours you well; Yet deflects on them
Would heal so if you can defer the *****
Intention, dear Victim of Absolute
How could one Comment subtract a Friend's Trust
When one lends a Hand for Innocent's Sake,
And Settle the Gnarbled Basket, we must.
When Integers apply, Truth should be Owned,
On Level Ground seen; But not to the Bone.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
*A weaver of words in deep quiet reflects
In his mind’s prism, many a thought deflects
Within him the rainbow colours of passion rage
He scripts songs of beauty and rhyme on page after page
He has no magic, neither erudite nor clever
But hungry souls, his poems avidly devour
Stirring their hearts as wind on whispering leaves
And each line, some alluring fancy weaves
As from pen to paper his fancies flow
In a lingua that has an unusual glow
Though a great epic may not be born
His songs move even hearts of flint n’ stone
He sings the paeans of love and life
Of men in cross roads of toil and strife
He awakens dead worlds long forgotten
Taking us to magic lands never trodden
His songs have echoes of a heavenly rhapsody
Drowning the Earth in flooding melody
Fuelling hearts with thoughts one cannot name
Spawning tempestuous passions one cannot tame*
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 5:49 AM UTC
I was born of a fisherman, fine and faithful
Faithful to God and the sea, faithful to my mother and me
I am a daughter of the sea, sensible and salty
To the sea I am impressed, there is peace that permeates
Perhaps it is in my bones, Portuguese explorer’s blood
When I breathe the salt air, its spirit deflects despair
This love derives from my father, this love affair with saltwater
This man of the sea fosters respect, but also tends to overprotect
Perhaps the sea prepared him to be practical and prudent
Undulating waves shaping his vision, dreams escorted to fruition
For these dreams I am grateful, for the breath of the sea
The lust the ocean produces in me
The love from his heart, the love from the sea
Floated over the waters so lavishly so lovely
I'll send him a kiss across the Atlantic
I hope it lands neatly on his cheek
I hope it reaches him, quick
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
You gift me gold,
bringing back old habits,
remember though that
I never aimed for the stars
nor the way they shine,
I wear the gold around my neck,
with no sparkles in my eyes,
wishing it was silver instead,
you see;
gold bends and stretches,
but silver reflects and deflects,
it can handle reality,
even when things heat up.
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC
Let it be known~
Beyond the mere musings of tool bearing monkeys
Lies an ineffable essence which deflects archaic labeling.
This is the direct experience of non-discriminatory equalization
Of conceived notions.
All which may be considered good and true
Vaporizes in the blinding eye of this clarity.
Language is the battleground of ignorance and illiteracy
Of what begs not be named~
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
Sitting staring at the swirls gently engraved upon the ceiling,
feeling faintly pessimistic that my hateful heart is healing.
Take apart the grace and art,
reveal my dated darkened past,
to harken back on wasted hours casting plaster for this mask.
It's cloudy colors cover up my crowded stream of conscience,
these teeming constants split between omitted and accomplished,
Scenes of trips and speeding fits
replaced by cleaner blips in truth
gleaning pictures of achievement, disconstruing youth uncouth.
Tall tales tinker with the crawling skin wherein my twin is toweled,
howling, hinting with appalling twitches, calling crying foul!
Small disguise in sprawling lies,
ensheathed, forestalling prying guests,
deflects the scrutinizing eyes of stressing restless wrecks.
My cranium co-ordinates claims stripped of contradiction,
wont to stitch the hidden patch on flaunted fabric fiction.
A daunting task, avaunt, at last,
concealed from haunting static force,
hiding flaws in paths of virtue drawn in divorced source and course.
Holding heaving out a haze, a cloud of extravented high,
sighs surrendered to the evening see my gracious ember die.
Praise condemns these sacred friends
with whom I stray from rendered paths,
preventing brash impatience from detaching this black mask.
Apr 13, 2011
Apr 13, 2011 at 3:00 AM UTC
glean from the grey light
of storm infested day
knowledge and rumour of
portent and potions which are
the ingredients of her heretic mind
and its tricksy path through the thorns
her face defends against such conversation
deflects the angrier intents and sends them off
like petulant schoolchildren to
stand in a meadow of butterfly's and balloons
their angry little faces red with envy
at the good kids who get ice cream
think bland thoughts children
live bland lives and you can have cookies and cake
all day long
quiet now here on the back porch
'cept Cecil who is mumbling his disgruntled
mind to the saints above
while he sips his bottle of red wine
the soft rain and winter birds
are the symphony to his lone act stage production
of another mans life
which is well lived and hardy
a life without such rain
a life without winter birds
winter birds
huddle next to eachother on tree-limb
waiting for a chance to join the swift sky
dance in its rivers of air
dream in its wondrous star laden halls
breath its wide open sea
winter birds want to fly away
just like me
just like me
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
My love is more pure than a diamond,
even with a heart of dark, black coal.
Lately I've been expanding my mind and,
getting high on draining my soul.
I skip notes like a broken record,
and thus conversation is never relayed.
I make choices with how it will affect her,
we both know that's how the game is played.
But I know that I have the potential to destroy a life,
and that's why I decorate in caution tape.
Yes I know it reflects shining misery and strife,
but I've been strapped in so long; I can't escape.
I've got high hopes and low odds,
hearing only demons who act as gods.
I've got low morale but skin of steel,
even when I watch it bleed and peel.
My love is more pure than the deepest of seas,
even with affection that's coarse like sand.
Lately I've been biting and silencing my pleas,
and digging my nails straight into my hand.
I sink ships like a waiting ice field,
stopping it dead right in it's path,
and not even the greatest mirror shield,
could ever withstand my full wrath.
'Cause I know that I have the ability to stick around,
so I try to make sure that I am never really there.
My soul fears the day when it is chained and bound,
but the opportunities seem so very rare.
I've got high hopes and low odds,
rambling this nonsense with the nods.
I've got low morale but skin of steel,
it deflects the good and bad that I should feel.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 5:36 AM UTC
there are rainbows and trenches
deep under ground; circles and
triangles and cacophonous sounds
there are stars and supernovas
and lovers at night, there's an
opaque barrier of which deflects
your misguided light. there are
satellites and sea turtles and
caterpillars in their cocoons, there
are butterflies and melodies sung
melancholy and out-of-tune
there are eyes and collarbones,
the arch of your back, too, there
are daffodils in your garden and
untied shoes. there are wishes
and wonders and a sea as grand
as the sky, there are gallivanting
fish whilst eagles dance mid-flight.
there's me there's you there's 7
billion others; there's a world
hellbent on destroying one another
there's war and destruction and
death uncomfortably close and
sometimes among it all, we forget
we're a rock mid-float. there's
life and there's breath and two
lips in sync, there's romance with
love letters written in ink; what's
important in life is living it
marvellously, take a second to
smile at the people you see,
a moment to give to the less
fortunate, generously. one life
to live and one heart to maintain,
a kindness to give and a world
to sustain. if we weren't so busy
breeding hate, we'd walk hand
in hand towards the horizon, and
create our own tumultuous fate.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
Strength can be found all around us. No matter how high or how low.
There is always something there that reminds us of what we are truly capable of.
Always promise yourself to be the shield that deflects the storm.
Guarding your body, your mind.
Your loved ones.
Just as there are many different ways a picture could tell a thousand stories.
Just as there are many lessons within the reason for every season.
Let your joy be one of enthusiastic proportion.
As nothing can steal your joy.
Acknowledge yourself for all that you do as this life thing only comes around once
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
Dastardly he dashed
To a damsel in distress
Unable to digest
The rippling
Recoiling
Through his chest
The resounding effects
Affecting his election
To shadow step
In the collection
Of her breaths
Tippy toeing
To the test
In his wonder
Toward her depth
As she deflects
His concepts
And attempts
To project
Some common sense
Into his denseness
Commencing
To undress him
Confessing
To her neglect
As limply she lets
Her guard down
Down that road
That road she knows so well
The O'wells she felt
So well to know
To know
He rides alone
And still
She fell for him
Fell before him
The only one
Who felt him
Befell him
And she put him
Before herself
As she swerved
Her life to his side
And subsided
Right beside him
Queen of the kingdom
Captured by his demons
She seen him seldom
But knew them well
Those hearts
She melts them
And loves them still
But he's alone and staring
From a window sill
Old and graying
Dreaming of fields
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
a martian
is heathen
that deflects
abortion with
his artifice
of adhesion
let superfluous
his connection
inside a
world that
always reeling
from monoxide
now trigger
of superior
intelligence to
defray sequence
of inhabitant.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 6:49 AM UTC
my statistical anomaly of a woman
dynamic and distinguishable
from the previous prospects that ever swarmed
and finessed their presence into mine
give me the gift of comfort and ease
so that I can finally trust again
the warmth, the fulfilling anxiety
that you're probably awake and consumed by the thought of me
invaluable I am,
except for when you pinch my cheeks and lecture me on how I need to work on loving myself
as much as you love me
as much as the wind loves the leaves
I'm so naturally drawn
to a woman so naturally defined
I fawn
from dusk til dawn
craving such organic eloquence,
in she who can give off certain grace and elegance
I seek it in her
who deflects the misogyny of a self proclaimed player
she who resonates soft moans and whispers cause when time doesn't exist, I'll still
kiss her
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
[Brecht: ice | water | steam]
I. To Thaw
an uncompromising war against emotion
and its content is of total
concession
closer to the body in fervid heat
you are a patron of this commerce
after you a water-lasting event:
your fluidity that deflects an accepted mass as if sacrificial
on a venue or a passage fitting the body
II. To Consume
and when you cut through with infinite fatigue
you are proximal to an agape jar housed
the question how vast and accurate the detainment and the quench thereafter
how when a flood renames
a corner and turns number to record of wreckage
making a memory innumerable
III. To Dissipate
is initiative when anterior and disparate
cannot be held and accounted for in
an erroneous register whelms in hems right shut
passing through an interstice your affinity to console
and when in a flash of a scene
unfound
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 3:03 AM UTC
Thud Thud, The Boots of Warriors thunder onto the Boat.
Crash, Waves bang against the mighty longship.
Boom Boom, under the Jarls orders the drums of war sound.
Bang Bang, The mighty ships land on scottish shores.
***** ***** Viking Mail and shields clash with the Claymores of Highlanders
Bam, Bam, The chieftain and the Jarl do battle.
Bounce, the Jarl deflects the massive sword with his steel shield.
Whoosh, the Jarl has fallen to the ground, Will a sword clash with the Chieftains or does the Jarls Saga end in Valhalla.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
to catch a drop of water
to change its chosen path
deflects where it was needed
altering how it lasts.
it will one day return
into the cycle it belongs
bringing with all the stories
that it has forgone.
it adjourns amongst its peers
sharing its life over the years
revealing the beauty and horror
of all our hopes and fears.
its seen the effort to maintain
just how things are
and also seen this effort
not getting very far.
its seen the disrespect
and lack of understanding
unwillingness to change
has killed us where we're standing.
it cannont change our choice
to do this to ourselves
it weeps of hope and fall tears
in attempts to break our spell.
it knows and sees its influence
and importance beyond our years
it lives within a system
it cannot change its gears.
to catch a drop of water
to hold it precious and true
will hopefully secure a place
meant for me and you.
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
When my desires fail
when my wishes end in vain
I, a human, my soul feel pain
then, my heart is broken, I wail
My eyes are like perennial rivers
it doesn't matter the seasonal change
Flows continuously, as it has no range
I feel so lonely, in the world of tears
It's the feeling, where my mind topples
where my capillaries collapse
my limbs, my lips, my muscles
shiver in fear, vibrate in pain
A stone covers my vocal cord, my voice
Who can control my body organs, even I can't!
My sense organs are in a frozen state
My eyes flow still, without any evaporation
Life always deflects in different directions
My parents console me, relatives scold me
life is a trap from where we can't flee
cycle of life keeps rolling, inactivating our actions
OH! My Almighty, how terrible this pain is?
Who has the strength to hold my broken heart?
Who can give me the healing art?
Say me.....How can I escape from this?
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
A hiss as pressurized fuel escapes as a gas,
Fumes escaping into the atmosphere.
The crackling of steel scraping on flint,
The cacophony of sparks following,
A fountain of brilliant orange light.
The ignition point is a dark blue,
As one of the sparks finally ignite the billowing fumes,
Spreading almost instantly,
Eating up the latchkey mixture of oxygen and fuel,
Produced in such a violent reaction was...
a singular light
Its flickering warmth
Dancing across the winds as they pass nearby.
The heat deflects off cold steel,
And soon a change was being made.
The Frontman took forth the Elixir,
The gift of the very helpful spider,
Providing him a way to save that which had been lost?
The Frontman looked at the Elixir,
Multicolored & unintelligible patterns flashing through the post mortem aqua vitae.
The Frontman drove the cure into his body,
Hoping to fill the long bleeding wound in his heart,
Hoping he could just speak to them again.
Too late to realize that the Elixir was gilded,
That the game had been rigged from the start,
The flashing covering up the milky white venom,
And the cure?
A nail in the coffin.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 3:55 AM UTC
Static crackling ecstatically; manic pop
Transistor hissing and spitting; sideboard atop
First when there’s nothing…
But a slow glowing dream…
Pirouette such as whirling dervish makes
Adolescent prancer twirls; leg warmer fakes
All alone I have cried…
Silent tears full of pride…
Breathless incantation; future forged in dance
Performance fascination; leap upon the chance
What a feeling...
Bein’s believing…
Neon flashes bedeck wrists and bonce
Peers laughter flash like fire; a ponce
Take your passion…
And make it happen…
The music shields, deflects. Antacid; taunts abate
Rhyhmic dreamer energized; blind to all the hate
Pictures come alive…
You can dance right through your life…
As Bergen-Belsen ghost yet still aware
Lost dreamer segues silently on fetid air
Bruised and battered, I couldn’t tell what I felt…
I am unrecognizable to myself…
Shuffling as garish Geisha; white but not with paint
Breathless as fifties bombshell; heaving sick and feint
At night I could hear the blood in my veins…
It was black and whispering as the rain…
With steel partner; straight firm and slim of hip
Rigid in rigor’d waltz; moving labouredly with drip
I walked the avenue, ‘til my legs felt like stone…
I heard the voices of friends, vanished and gone…
Faithless rusting engine combusts toxic blood
Failing sack of sinew lies where dancer stood
Night has fallen, I’m lyin’ awake…
I can feel myself fading away…
Monotone white noise; assuring beep
Dancer dreams in endless sleep
There was a time when men were kind…
There was a time when love was blind…
©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness – 2018 – All rights reserved)
Acknowledgements:
1. Flashdance… what a Feeling (1983 – Giorgio Moroder, Keith Forsey & Irene Cara)
2. The Streets of Philadelphia (1993 – Bruce Springsteen)
3. I Dreamed a Dream (Les Miserables – Claude Michel Schonberg, Herbert Kretzmer & Alain Boubil)
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
I pledge to write for an inner peace movement
To fill the void left on the blank page of a story we could not complete
I pledge to write more beginnings than endings, and if words fail to meet me where you left, I'll wait with the patience of a bookmark, holding down the gap we left pending
as if locked in stalemate: light paper vs dark ink because the way of the pen is the no-sword style of contending that deflects the black and blue thoughts that leave bruises where we think.
I pledge to erase, or at least, start over, only to toss each cumpled piece unfinished onto the pile of things I have no answers for- only hopeless questions, mailed into the static of heartbreaking silence, until it clicks, like a retractable pen, and finger flicks from an audience follow as this throwaway piece hits the mic on its head, drawing feedback, the static giving way to meaning and the audience now there, tuning in as if waking up while dreaming, now clicking, snapping, leaning forward as antennas to the right frequency we're streaming, snapping together now, a thousand pieces of a hidden picture completing, I write to throw captions around my own confusion, and watch them snap like photos of what I'm seeing beyond illusion on this train of thought leaving, the coast starlight from LA to Seattle, the lines of a notebook as my railway leading toward our emancipation from battle.
We are free from the places we are told define us. I write to move past them. Poems are what we leave behind us, in the graffiti'd nowheres of subway tunnels between the lights of the places we were meant to see.
Poems are the spaces between.
My mission is write
for you to read me.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 2:00 PM UTC
There's a beating
down in my heart
and painful butterflies
in my stomach.
I worry that this
could be the
Beginning
of a repeat.
You watch my shows like him.
You play guitar like him.
You are awkward like him.
You could hurt me like him.
This heart,
well it's not ready
for another time
where sleep is sweet relief.
I don't want to wake up
and see you tomorrow
because it could be
one step closer.
Don't be him-
that's my plea.
My heart cries out
"Not again."
Before you hurt me,
tell me when.
Don't let me blindly
fall in love.
So let me know
even if it hurts
and I'll walk away
new and broken.
When you get a new bruise
it hurts to be touched.
I have one on my heart
that I must protect.
Is this how it goes?
The heart gets wounded
so it pretends not to care
so it deflects any blows.
Because if nothing touches,
nothing can hurt.
And if nothing can hurt
then it might be all right.
Should I tell you now
all the scary truths?
That I'm messed up and broken
and may never be right.
I have scars upon my skin
that I am afraid for you to see.
Will you turn away?
Will I no longer be beautiful?
I have scars upon my soul
that I am afraid for you to know.
Will I be to broken?
Will I no longer be worth the trouble?
I've been bruised and battered
like an old castle door.
The ramparts have been different,
but always there.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC