Best Digressing Poems


Premium Member I bleed Poetry

I bleed poetry to heal through 
midnight confessions. 
Mistress’s ink does not seek 
your caramelized validation; 
it has no desire to please 
your feed of presumed perfection.

I’ve never tamed this 
skill as an online profession; 
this is just an unbreakable obsession~
I’m drowning in for a distraction.

Don’t question my 
hazy metaphors,
veiled away from towering 
thorns of introspection, 
too vague and meaningless 
for the skies adorned 
with sleeping stars. 
These scribbles of sentimental 
symbolism may cause 
digressing reactions, 
for I’ve been sewing a 
waltzing nightmare,
whilst counting syllables 
within concocted connotations, 
surfing through wicked 
schemes of sunset-colored 
sestinas to sunflower sonnets.

Now I knit hyacinth haikus 
in honeysuckle hues, 
woven from pristine petals 
amidst wilting wilderness, 
awaiting twilight that 
would awaken words written 
in repetitive refrains, 
reigniting the flames 
between spaces on fragrant pages, 
so dreams will no longer 
be more peaceful 
than the air I breathe. 

Although these lines
do not rhyme with teal-green 
tides that sketch 
turquoise beginnings, 
I still hope time can maybe 
guide this canvas home.
Categories: digressing, deep,
Form: Free verse

Watching a Sunset 1

Watching a Sunset

Sunset in the sky, in colorful splendor
Sunset of life, a remembrance of blunders
Sunset of love, a matter of dejection 
As love once was of unstinted affection.

A play of oranges, golds and reds in  sky
As a posse of thoughts are passing me by.
Digressing  to dream of a golden mountain
And a falling sun filtering through fountains

I  flit back to view the spectacle in the sky
Now, a poetic play of hues as, home, birds fly.


For Skat's contest on 27/6/2013
Categories: digressing, nature,
Form: Rhyme

Unforgiven

Themes are overlapping
                           The current keeps criss crossing
Dreaming and digressing depressing and unkind
Mish mash meandering in a labyrinth of minds
Wonder lost.....fingers crossed....

Misdiagnosed and so stupidly maintained
Disjointed mistake.....
Contorted remorse
No kingdom no horse
Replaying the scene
                    Rehearsing the song ... unmended
Keep doing wrong
How do I check my tongue?
Why does it always come out wrong?
 
              Ill get forgiven - of course
And then I transcend it - much worse
Imprinted my thinking - not right
I keep on repeating .... my plight
Until I get along, its best I walk alone
How to undo this old refrain
Your spirit I fractured - time and again
Categories: digressing, introspection, pain,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Stereotype Me Not

Life of a stereotype me not
Doing the actions I forgot
Like freezing when I should be hot
Digressing your opinion of a plot
Doing little when expected of a lot 
If I don’t have it, then what do I got
A loose rope with a knot
Or cold piss in a pot
With the gun of truth, here’s my shot
Of the life of a stereotype me not
Categories: digressing, depression, hope, life, teen,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Ode To the Cotswold Hills

The Cotswolds are a bunch of hills in rural England's heart
They're green and rolling, full of sheep that frolic, bleat and fart.
People come from far and wide to hike the Cotswold Way,
And from Bath to Chipping Campden lovely views enhance their stay.
The villages and towns each have a unique English charm,
And when the sun shines on those hills there's joy on every farm.
The cows and pigs and chickens temporarily forget their fate,
That tomorrow or the next day they'll be on somebody's plate.
The dry stone walls meander through the fields o'er hills and dales,
And from the very top you can unluckily see Wales,
A country full of Welshmen waving leeks and daffodils,
Who sing too much and abuse their sheep amongst their rugged hills.
I'm digressing, it's the Cotswolds that’s the topic of this ode,
There's beauty round every corner of each winding country road.
So when in England, to the Cotswolds drive without delay,
You won't regret it, honestly, you'll love it every day.
My buttocks both rejoice whene'er those hills come into view,
I love those gorgeous Cotswolds, and I know that you will too.
Categories: digressing, beautiful, beauty, daffodils, england,
Form: Rhyme

Autumn

In this story the leaves are digressing,
In another, perhaps I shall too
With warm feelings and autumn shades tinting my view

We go along the path at a crisp clip
High heels and rubber soles
Trench coats and scarves fluttering
Scandalously in our rush to understand
The literature hidden between the flesh and the spirit 
Soul on soul, deciphering in motion
Picturesque and ugly 

Please Smile for me when the camera blinks
When that moment is gone and this photograph is all I have
Along with dangerous conversations of how we shall eventually Fall

Life Kafka, like Vonnegut, Marquez, 
Slaughtering ourselves 5 over 5 times, 
Armageddon in Retrospect
Metamorphosing within 
100 years of Solitude
Loving in times of Cholera,	

And we plummet beyond the help of our seasoned knowledge of devotion

Past the neurotic winters of Kerouac 
Beyond the springs of Plath
Over and gone the summers of Margaret Mitchell and ironclad romance

To Fall 

 
To the Inferno of the ground below
Through nine different hells
To end up where they started from
Dust begets dust 
Dante in Love 

All Muted in translation
In death, empty words shattering like
The Crimson leaf 
Silenced in the psyche of la fabrication d'amour

Skeletons of desire
Lynched in the closets 
The bedrooms, 
Dusty and leather-bound 
Black on ébène
Starved and lonely 

The sound of Autumn on Leaves
Categories: digressing, seasonsautumn, autumn, , literature,
Form: Free verse


The Cry of a Broken Hearted

Have you ever heard the cry of the broken hearted?
Whose heart bleeds as it pleads as a result to losing, the one girl, he needs
Humble your heart and mind and access with empathy; well enough to perceive it clearly
I must warn you, it’ll be the worst cry you’ll ever hear, because it’s awfully too near to fear
Like how raindrops can replace your tears’ flowing outwardly from the inside
Falling like thunder-hunted by a lightning spear, shredding your thoughts to wander
As to what reality will be like to a dreamer, who cannot sleep; as he weeps and leaps?
Chasing memories which doesn’t exist coz’ he cannot resist but he persist on insisting, anyway
Whereas his heart plays jaggedly with the cards of sorrow, one bluff-it’s goodbye tomorrow
He bellows… like a rollercoaster ride, knowing, it’ll come again and again, turning boys to men
Turning strong men weak and feeble men weaker-all because he tried again, to seek her
All because he thought he needs her-He truly believes and grieves like thieves
Stealing time that was never his to reminisce inside a kiss only to see it spun onto this
Where his world gets weary as his eyes get teary watching the past unfolds to less than a theory
I digress, hoping that it’ll all be over in one second or less, unless, all, is but a test
I digress from digressing further, because everything’s a blur-like a nightmare slurring
He confuses me, when he talks about me as “I to a he” to a muse as though he too has lost his shoes
My head’s spinning-trying to find the right words to a song; a right place to belong
I’ve gone and reached ahead while the unknown future still trapped in my bed; unwed from reality
Uncoupled from normality where the only exception to the rule was to cry and so I play the fool
He cries as I cry, sending our “goodbyes” to the sky, trusting that one day, I will get to fly
As for now, I’ll embrace the pain with a little bit of salt and let it settle inside my private vault
Where all my promises and wishes and dreams can come true, and while I’m there… I’ll think of you

by: Wilbert Evangelista Dela CRuz
Categories: digressing, dedication, emotions, for her,
Form: Free verse

A Bio I Suppose

This is not a poem. This is a quick little rambling about myself and what I do. 
I'm not particularly sure if what I write is "poetry" perse. 
I suppose I'd consider it a release of my inner most thoughts.
The way I "throw it down", as I'm referring to syllables, placement, rhythm and what not,  is only a reflection of how I'm feeling at that time. 
Although I wouldn't say I'm a particularly fantastic writer, I do love to engage in it. 
Its a release. It's therapeutic. It's..... me. 

 Now for the fun stuff. Fun? Ah, maybe. 
My name is Renee Bousquet. I'm 19 years old. I live in a small little town, the whereabouts of which I will probably not tell you. ;)
I'm an artist, in every sense of word I suppose. I draw, I write.... I.... Oh geeze, I don't even know. All I know, is that in every aspect of life, I tend to see beauty. I use colors to my advantage, I find creativity in the bleakest aspects of life. Art IS my life. Without it? I would be a very sad person. 

I'm also bipolar. In saying that, I am by no means looking for any sympathy. I'm more so giving you a small look into who I am. See, I don't see my "bipolar disorder" as a negative thing. I view it as a garden. If I tend to it, take care of it, make sure it doesn't get out of hand, it can be a beautiful, intriguing, and free-spirited aspect of who I am. If I don't however, I get weeds, and pests, and dead plants, and it takes a long time to take care of it. 

I also tend to ramble! I'm the queen of digressing! 

I love south park. I enjoy sushi. I'm very witty, and enjoy singing self-written songs on the fly. I'm a dork. Extremely comfortable. I'm a free-spirit. I'm also passionate. 

I am who I am. 

And that's that.
Categories: digressing, life, care, care, love,
Form: Bio

Let's Talk Numbers

Let’s talk numbers

I talk one language, need no more. This world
Needs but one thing. A number line
Digressing time,
And all the things within. 
Poetic sigh as freedom cries. Creative
arts are dead.
Financially, ecstatically
You celebrate this win.
Stats, figures, percentages loom around        
This anxious corner, people yearning for rises.
Forgetting economic crisis.
An international gesture, favours well.
A frown turned upside down, by one small alteration
To the standard wage…..pathetic nation.

Religiously this all bodes well. No fiddly
Bits, no hidden-meaning. 
One simple scaffold, tells it well.
What you’ve done, and where you’ve been
All deciphered by one thing,
The coefficient of your sin.
A tiresome idol now replaced. A Greek man, Pythag
Takes it’s space.
Life experience, calculated
By the gradient of your absolution,
Utter focus on the prize,
Which lies....ahead of children.
Past the love. Beyond the gates
And all above.
Further then until you find,
A formulae for all things prime,
Careful you don’t lose your mind. A frequent occurrence
To all man-kind.

So lets be hasty to our graves. Cut
Out the tongues which set the bar,
The right of speech, and who we are.
I insist. Take out these complicated brackets,
Multiply them by our crimes, and then divide 
By nurtured time. Calculate the lengthy angle,
Simplify that and untangle,
All the extra nonsense.
Let’s talk numbers.
Categories: digressing, life,
Form:

Blackout

Soaring like a bald eagle.                                                                          
Regal the idea but its just,                                                                               
a crow carrying stale bread.                                                                           
An Invisible phantom, fathoms.                                                                      
As though you were dead                                                                                                                                                                                                                        
But in my defenselessness                                                                         
Think Try, Try Again                                                                                      
A seamless definition of insanity                                                          
Slurring’s of drunken profanity                                                                     
not even fair,  a novel without a hero                                                                                                                                                                                                 
Sorry, for the digressing Nero.                                                                     
The fearful darkness unharnessed                                                        
Apologies of bare assessment,                                                              
tolerable for living in a basement.                                                                 
But thoughts of being, accused of murder.                                        
                                                                                                  
Waking with no deadeye.                                                                          
Whys are redundant?                                                                           
Starring in your own calamitous whodunit.                                                      
A sobering promise, of never to do that again,                                             
while the grey is washed away by the black.
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: digressing, abuse, addiction, allusion, conflict,
Form: Free verse

Philosophical Ranting With Red Wine

Aimless wandering beings 
  Arms flailing reaching out to touch 
feeling no one in reach
isolated pedestrians seeking affection
 disconnected lack of eye contact
Seeing no one peripherally...

A sea of souls knowing more each day
 forgetting everything else
information trumping wisdom
 Compassion overshadowed by Computation
   Each byte bites into the fabric
A tattered tapestry left hanging
  Rare human-like beings peek through 
Wanting tangible exchanges of communication
  
Exhaling shallow, careful for smog intake
  We've made everyday Halloween
Highlighting and Sensationalized...
  Terrified of those we don't know
Expanding the gap, alienating...alone
Community was our protection...now stolen
  In locked homes peering out, guarded
Neighbors-strangers...shaking with guns
  No one safe from the dangers at home!

Intelligence rises...yet we refuse to evolve
  Using our fears, insecurities, and prejudice
      to hamper the progress of our young
Technology is no surrogate Parent
  Using repressive dishonest methods of yesterday
     only degenerates the trust of highly informed children
         
Our hope is in teaching them 
  where we failed
When we missed 
 what we forgot
   ....Transcending the hatreds, and biases 
          applying the accrued knowledge
                  to one day
             mentally and spiritually
                     EVOLVE!!

Simultaneously progressing/digressing
  Gaining in Ability, losing in Humanity
      Our Children will succeed where we could not...
Categories: digressing, inspirational, philosophy
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Game Became a Tragedy

The Game Became a Tragedy
By Franklin Price
6/15/2017

A baseball game, the national sport, a congress benefit,
A hundred year tradition, they weren't about to quit.
The game became a tragedy, and soon it would appear.
A cloud was hanging overhead, and lightning was near.

The rising dark cloud billowing and at a stormy height
For years a senseless conflict between the left and right
Had put a disparate man, with guns, outside the practice field.
We'll never know just what he thought, maybe he could make them yield.

On the conservative field of practice were the right side of the aisle
To beat the left tomorrow was a thought that made them smile 
Republicans were practicing, tomorrow should be fun
The homeless man outside the fence began to shoot at one

The muzzle blast  was loud indeed, no silencer was there.
Maybe they will listen to me, now that I've given them a scare.
Why can't we all just get along, now I will have my say.
He could not stop with one or two. He had to make them pay

The wounded fell where they were hit, the rest, some cover found.
The police and guards responded by returning round for round
Silence fell, when the shooter shot, we'll forever wonder why.
He came to practice havoc, on the practice field would die

Response was quickly coming. from both sides of the floor.
We must now pray together, we are this country's core.
We must have solidarity, to overcome this fright,
Cannot give into terror, we'll still play tomorrow night

It's a shame it's not that easy, as they govern day to day.
Instead they don't cooperate, if it isn't done their way.
They don't meet in the middle, for what's best for everyone.
Shooting each with verbal bullets is how government is run

Now I am digressing which is something that I do
The cloud's still hanging overhead with lightning anew.
The left and right must work together to overcome this country's woes.
Far worse than this could happen. The public reaps what congress sows.
Categories: digressing, america, baseball, conflict, political,
Form: Couplet

Triumphant Leaders Part 3

Toussaint they dance in Louisianna, and New Orleans
Omitting to say that these two places are blood money paid
Unto the colonies, snuffing your revolution by any means 
Subtle French diplomacy that history would parade
Solutions of lies in the revolution that Crispus made
Afro-centric leader, pioneer liberator, O that you could see 
Images of this decrepit shadow, the deal made Haiti to be
***** colony collapsed like a mildew rag upon a golden sand.
Temple here again another citadel of freedom in the sun.

Let the great Dessalines call from his slave barracks again
Organize him with them, make them all fighting men
Unique in the vision that Boukman intuit theology revived 
Visions some racist philosophers native animism would deprive:
Existential, mythical, ontological, the awakening more than
Revolutions fleshed by blood, the black man mind lifted up
Tents and tennacles of the genius that sailed seas of sand
Unrope again the slave from sugar tea in that Liverpool cup
Rebel intellectual, great Toussaint, Napolean's luster fades
Eclipsed by the glory of your name across the new decades.

Federick do you think you people now forget how you paved
Erosions in the great emancipator's cause, until he relented
Digressing from the act of enslaving men. The West craved
Expansions of their new fronteir, on the back of the tormented
Remnants of the Atlantic trade, but you kiting in war winds
Instigated through fly of words, a subtle shift of rumbling breeze
Call for that genius, they sent you to Haiti, cutting the string of sins
Keeling towards a black liberation without the bended knees.

Due to you are laurels, when Afric's children in their van
On to brighter future, rise from where the day began
Under dark bush of morning, where a slave use to sit
Gathering knowledge and self teaching the burden to acquit
Let children today learn, education is not a white light
Africa's lamp was the dawning of the culture that brings might
Straddling the seas, O race, be a Douglas, set wisdom in your sight.
Categories: digressing, historyeducation, children,
Form: Acrostic

A Belligerent Bernie

A Belligerent Bernie

What he did was disturbing by digressing
Around with minds when he is messing
Now have to understand what he meant
Wife looks good in dress they call a tent.

In repertoire many things are done by Bernie
Even went a journey to find an attorney
And down path as usual we were all led
He ended up seeing the Pope instead.

We would have to hesitate and levitate
And to see letter from Pope have to wait
He had hoped that the letter better be
Addressed to him from honorable Holy Sea.

As tension piled on while it was mounting
Letter had been from a Brooklyn soda fountain 
Where on top of Sunday's they have to heap
For belligerent Bernie who is an old creep.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: digressing, humorous,
Form: Couplet

Hunger For Death

A quick, furtive glance
To insure no one can stop
The heinous act by chance

The life about to be taken
Is one that has been
Battered and forsaken

Tired of the disappointments
Attempting to please with
Fruitless compliments

The soul in release, ne'er cold
For the fortunate task
Freeing the tumultuous soul

Digressing from further raving
Time to take the life
Of the end, it is craving
Categories: digressing, angst, death, sad,
Form: Elegy
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