Best Averts Poems
It's a cold, cold heart
that cannot feel
someone else's pain.
It's a heart without feeling
that averts its eyes
to the ravishings in the world.
It's a self-centered ego
that feels the nothing
but its own need to be noticed.
It's the turmoil of the heart and soul
that never knows
what it is to love.
Categories:
averts, angst,
Form:
Blank verse
Let me tell you a story…
A story about life, where Solitude gracefully glides into the room, wearing a loose fitting gown, draping her curvaceous form. Piously she takes her place at the table of life, she is surrounded by Faith, Hope, Despair, Vision, Reality, and Fantasy. Furtive Destiny is seated at the head of the table, shrouded in mystery.
Faith is subdued, radiant, gracious and kind. Her reassuring smile gives life and courage to Hope. They share a unique friendship, if either of them departs, the other becomes reclusive.
Hope shines in the spotlight with Faith. She dazzles with magic tricks; lighthearted yet fragile. She holds her breath so often I fear one day she may not catch it. Optimistic Faith, reminds Hope to breathe in and breathe out.
Despair, clad in a dark cloak; averts his sullen glassy eyes. His temerity threatens and blind sights the spirit of Faith and Hope; vulnerable and frightened they reach out to Vision.
Vision is creative, casting Faith and Hope in life’s productions; drawing back the curtain of blindness, revealing hopeful possibilities.
Reality, a disciplinarian. He is strong and terse; building strength on the bedrock of truth. Discerning facts, sorting out fiction.
Fantasy, a flighty temptress, playfully teases Reality who becomes uncomfortable; secretly he admires her, especially when Destiny leaves the room.
Destiny holds the key to life’s fate. Confident and at times unforgiving; she never plays favorites. Wise, with the knowledge she solely possesses the power of our tomorrows. Reality is her soulmate, keeping a harmonious balance. There is talk they are involved, but Destiny does not reveal her private life.
Date: April 19, 2022
For: Form N - Narrative - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Grammar verified on P.S. Grammar check
Placed 1st in contest
Categories:
averts, imagery, life, metaphor,
Form:
Narrative
Stateless
…thatched houses catch fire
sparrow tires from romping in the coned-flower chestnut
tree
alights on the road
tires crunch macadam
sparrow perches on live telegraph wires
winds sweep the plains
topple high-tweeting power poles
sparrow haunts deserted godowns
caterpillar cranes tear down loading wharves
sparrow unloads wings on marshalling yard
trains shuttle screeching now forth now back
sparrow glides then tumbles in air-pockets
temperature plummets
snow flakes
magpie in the châtaignier shrieks disgust to the skies
melting snow runs down eaves
air sizzles with imminent
thunder
Zhen of a sudden clapclaps righteous terror
The Eldest Son of High Heaven has high business to supervise
tapeworms bore deeper into the ground
the cicada scarcely calls to mate
wet hungry ruffled sparrow
has no chestnut tree to go back to now home to transiting seagulls tries to alight on spring-green spare Pawlonia chockfull of crows
averts the mulberry tree à la feuille de platane
fishing gear lie splayed against the trunk
the dense dripping prickly hibiscus hedge
affixes
house-full
sparrow perches on the terrace rose pot
the neighbour’s Siamese cat’s ears perk up
sparrow rolls its eyes
April 24, 1997
From the privately-pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris: 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
averts, allegory, destiny, discrimination, grief,
Form:
Free verse
Son of Trembling
The Sun will stop to shine
Where trapped they do recline
Where they drink and dine
Yet, search, pine and repine.
Would Humane inside him stir
To forsake malicious flair
Has he conscience ever known
To He has he ever knelt down?
Where’s his mind or his heart?
Does he have the thinking part
To heed voice of he who cry
Or pain of victims who fly??
Has he known peace or sate
From when War was his mate?
To see another in pangs of strife
Does it grant mirth to his life??
Barking Gun; ditty to his ear
Ammo. a burden worthy to bear.
Petals Of (red) Blood, his flower
For, those who cringe or cower.
Monster trembling with rage
With a trigger-crazy entourage.
He may kill, blood may spill
One day he’ll pay the Bill!
Stop, think- Trembler go Home
Prodigal Son, you’ll be welcome.
Hand of Friendship not treason
Shake while still in season....
You deserve Peace and Love,
Forgiveness from He Above
They deserve Peace and Mirth,
They don’t deserve Dearth.
Return to senses and to the fold
Get out of the Dark and the cold
Get out of the gruesome Grove
Get into the Light of Peace!
You need Him; He needs you
Divided you fall, it’s quite true.
Let mad aggression cease
Before both of you decrease!
There’s no winner with a Sabre
Or Victor with face of a cadaver
Winner of all averts an Affray
Suppressing ire on a Bad Day!
Country has trees yielding table
Sit, talk live or via the cable.
Carpenters exist to curve a chair
Sit, talk, Rebel would you dare!
• We are Poets, not Politicians. However, bear with me, oh dear Scribes, to condemn mournful events unfolding from my maternal homeland of Mozambique!
• I write with a heavy heart, despite an extended hand to dialogue in the face of the sword of Damocles menacingly hanging. Hostility and intransigence is being allowed to carry the day.
• Would I, Prometheus, (be) Unbound!
JM
06th Nov’ 2013
Categories:
averts,
Form:
Couplet
Descending,
I manipulate and manoeuvre for the updraft
Spluttering,
I spiral down, then briefly up again, to glimpse a glowing sky
Flapping,
I fall forever faster, flat-eagled
Plunging,
I watch the unwelcome gloom envelope my horizon
Tumbling,
I twist, turn and turbulate, ... then the thudding thump
Gasping,
I groan and exhale, a noiseless moan
Curling,
I recoil as innards become outward form
Emerging,
a base inside-out creature crawls and creeps
Tasting,
the tongue-tied intestines and the unseeing socket eyes
Groping,
a gruesome grub befriends the worm and slurps the slug-slime
Engorging,
as flaunted members flail blood and flick licky, sticky fluid
Reforming,
dim visions populate carnal shapes with awful movement
Gaping,
a fearful half-formed and startled face averts its gaze
Residing,
in deep gutter niches... these are my companion dwellers
Wallowing,
I sniff a redolent upswell of dank fissured earth
Disturbing,
I scrape, cleave and wipe away a smear of covering soil
Trembling,
I sense a warmth of body, a stretching of exotic wings
Enquiring,
I mutter clumsy overtures and crude enticements
Retreating,
I hear unmistaken rebuke and a sigh of disappointment
Imploring,
I elevate my utterances and seek a further hearing
Caressing,
I feel a welcoming and forgiving response
Pulsing,
the creature's cocoon gives way to nebulous female form
Ascending,
at first a cherub woman smiles playfully down on me
Transforming,
a stimulating and sensuous siren cavorts and teases
Uplifting,
wings gather me in for a swooping flight of fancy
Revealing,
from above, her intimate view of dwellers in the hinterland
Coaxing,
she fills me now with empathy and understanding
Alighting,
my body-mind lies prone beneath her
Tingling,
I feel her form and thoughts slowly enter and encompass me
Exploring,
I arouse and we gently probe between lips and sphincter
Delving,
I follow our rhythm of kiss, taste, touch and thrust
Wandering,
I experience our ambiguous male and female desire
Playing,
I laugh at how we tickle our innocence and sophistication
Loving,
I know for delirious moments what it is to be another
Consumed,
lost in coexistence with a like- but more extraordinary- mind
Categories:
averts, journey,
Form:
Prose Poetry
His lonely desert offered no oasis
Until he glimpsed a stream within her eyes
This palm tree of potential love he chases
But kisses set aflame his longed-for prize
The stream he’d found brought him no lasting bliss
It was but a mirage of tears returned
His thirst for true love unquenched by her kiss;
Though seeds of love were sown, their palm tree burned
Though sorrowful, he blames himself alone
For loving her to quench his parched desire
Retreating to the desert on his own
Avoiding love averts another fire
He feels she loved his kiss more than his heart
In ashes, he awaits a brand new start
........
In younger days he’d found no spring nor well
His love-quenched thirst distorted all he knew
Until this songbird settled for a spell
They sang each other strains of “I love you”
The scar of First Love’s fire slowly heals
Their passion’s ashes long misunderstood
In time though, it is gratitude he feels
Towards the one who brought his life such joy
Though blinded by her passionate affection
His blindness he could scarcely blame on her
He learns to break down walls of his protection
With softened heart finds healing can occur
His songbird thus returns; songs fill the air,
Those ashes fertilized the tree they share
Categories:
averts, first love, lost love,
Form:
Sonnet
Hearken When the Body Talks
Any minor hint of bodily pain
Never ignore and never disdain
This could be some telltale sign
Of what may deadly malign.
It may start as a minor pinch
That swells to fatally lynch....
It may sprout as a tiny wart
That will spread to every part....
Good servant is our prostate-
Aggrieved, it turns an apostate.
Cervix to be frequently checked
Averts it being fully wrecked!
Never remain cold or be mum
While nursing a swollen gum
Nor suspect: “it’s the breeze.”
When you continually sneeze...
You did not swallow dry bones
Nor ingest some raw prawns....
When suffering a runny tummy
Quickly alert sweet mummy!
Nay, when eyes are bloodshot
You are not upset-you are not.
But, be wary of a lurking bug
That in future you may not shrug!
JM
05th January 2014
Categories:
averts,
Form:
Couplet
i've always believed that love lost is unpleasant,
painful as little as a lachrymal biopsy,
and as much as an emotional disembowelment
or lobotomy of the heart.
i am told that a love who walks out or finds love,
initiates a season of mourning and pain.
tears.
fears.
loneliness.
isolation.
abandonment.
uncertainty.
depression.
forsaken.
unlovely.
unwanted.
betrayed.
damn.
but, what if, just what if love lost is wisdom gained?
what if abandonment was the necessary path to faith?
or uncertainty the road to confidence?
should i have regrets about the past?
should i doubt that all things are predestined?
and should i lament providence through pain?
all for a purpose,
i have no regrets.
if i must suffer betrayal, loneliness, and love lost
to vividly and fully taste the rich and textured beauty of life,
and if i must endure betrayed affection,
in order to understand having it,
then may i lose love, time and again;
i choose to frolic and freely swim in the tides of depletion,
i submit to its tornadic and hurricanic winds;
and i yield to its tsunamic waves.
letting go of loss.
the winds carry its despair.
the waves swallow its torment.
to wash and rain cupid upon fertile hearts.
love lost is inoculation for my soul,
it bleeds,
it wounds,
it swells.
but averts phlegmatic infections and rigor mortis de la coeur.
so love lost becomes gain,
and gain loves again.
Categories:
averts, emotions, faith, feelings, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Ardor, not passion, when it comes to a profession
Alacrity, not zeal, when it's time for confession
Categories:
averts, emotions, words,
Form:
Epigram
Eyes watery,
drowsy with the days sights.
red with desperation
they plead for sleep.
but it averts my gaze
and wonders elsewhere.
Neglected, they shut down-
wallowing in the depths of my sockets
leaving sullen impressions
colored purple.
I am awake,
I've been for some time now,
exaustion drains the color from within.
my skin,translucent,
absent of color
you can see the inner workings of my mind
for i am see-through.
It is within my mind
the very thing that deprives me of sleep
it is the memory of you,
that gives me fear of sleep.
Categories:
averts, depression, fear, health, lost
Form:
Free verse
Sitting all alone,
sipping tea, munching a scone;
elderly woman
in a quiet coffeehouse
looking for conversation.
"That was delicious",
she says to the young server
seemingly busy.
She tries to make eye contact;
the young one averts her gaze.
It's like that most days...
staring at windows and walls.
Human connection:
a rarer commodity
for those who so need it most.
Categories:
averts, loneliness,
Form:
Tanka
Buoyant ship built to remain afloat through voyages of my life
As she navigates the stormiest of seas. An unsinkable ship with
Loyal hands at the helm. The ship's keel averts her from toppling.
Look at her forge ahead! Weather-beaten, yet stubbornly endures
Against furious, rising tides; defying all odds against her as she
Sets sail on her perilous, tempestuous odyssey. Indestructible,
This mother ship reaches all harbors intact, for she is, my faith.
Date written and posted: 06/10/2018
Categories:
averts, allegory, life, metaphor, strength,
Form:
Acrostic
I'm tired of them asking ''What is it that you're on? ''
Why can't I just be happy with this life I've stumbled on?
My brother says that with each day he sees me it is worse.
He says he thinks my happiness is sorta like a curse.
He says he fears I'm losing touch with harsh reality.
I don't see what the problem is to live your life carefree.
So what if I start laughing when I hear a funny word?
Who cares if I can sit for hours to see a hummingbird?
He says ''Life isn't like that, it's ugly and it hurts.''
Yet, when this trouble looks at me, my soul's eye just averts.
I see the pain and heartache, I hear the hollow moan.
No one feels it more than me and sure, I've felt alone.
I just don't choose to dwell there, in sadness and in fear.
I have to see the good in things so I can persevere.
Categories:
averts, angst, family, happiness, health,
Form:
In low cut shirts and mini-skirts
she pesters passions through the day,
but my advances she averts
while still continuing her flirts,
she leaves me longing love’s ballet.
But daylight wanes and fades to night,
the thoughts of lustful love turn tender,
and with the bedroom drapes drawn tight
she wryly winks and lowers light,
and gives herself in sweet surrender.
April 8, 2018
Contest: Rhyme Time 2
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Categories:
averts, love, romantic,
Form:
Rhyme
On a wrinkled trajectory
the blood averts to abstract remission,
I am out of place in time and history.
Try to nudge the jumping ants
with their cyberweapons
ready to strike the antique nectaries
of judgements. The predators were
coming. Killing for long necks and
pinkish lips. You envision a period..
of dearth for visage, for phrases
of dead skins: I start dismembering
the past, contained in future.
This was a total disaster of unknowing,
adrift between the fingers;
sands of time, ungrained, unwatered.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
averts, art,
Form:
ABC