Best Disengage Poems
Featuring: Keith :)
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Fresh sand garments
The Mental Colosseum floor
Self-infliction's--waging wars
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~ AND THE POEM BEGINS ~
A mask, tiny holes
Breathing heavily
Dancing around my toes
Broad carbon steel
Safe behind my will
Equipment of revenge
Fencing the world with my eyes
I bow, with the morning dew,
My mind a dual in its own world.
When the curtains lift,
I prepare myself with a weapon--
Epee Crest to protect my chest
A sword sharper than fangs
I circle my blade around the door knob
Ready to face the world
Practicing --in hopes today, I won't retreat
“Fencers ready!"
ATTACK!
A magical knightress
Painted in white
"Let's dance!"
~ THE SHOW BEGINS ~
Queen Amri "VS" The Damsel
Wishing it was over
Stainless steel echoes
“Every poke counts”
Hoping & Taking
No room to disengage ---I retreat
Peacefully I secure my stance
On Guard!
I lean in, I disengage ---I flee
Back again, I lunge
The Queen is too smart to retreat
I -Amri, parry away from the argument of the lunge.
Recoil & Double tapped
In and out….. I'm struck
Boldness---
Back to the drawing board
On guard, I stand like a statue
Out of breath; feels like I'm dying
Yet I am still fighting.
The Queen knows what to do.
TODAY~
I Yield, She Wins!
Raising our foils
---At the on guard of another day
I move in swiftly, cutting like razor blades
Using refreshed energy
24 / 7
I attack, She provokes!
Sand runs its course
Victorious against the queen
Touch – tied – triumph -- Touché
Standing on my own 2 feet
I am the
-Grand Finale Show-
Conquering The Battles Inside
TODAY~
-I WIN!-
by; PD
For you, I carry heavy issues difficult to bear;
varied themes with bleary depths as carved by you.
You want me to dismiss all darkness you name light,
to secure your pride’s weight in my ocean of shame
and declare aloud your behooved truths are priceless.
There are no limits to all that you diminish
in me when holding me immobile for your use,
to move me around as your desires so choose.
You know I struggle to be free from your rules,
you have read my clues but are completely immune.
Floating as tossed in your issues, I feel ropes securing
agitation upon all my twisted, pushed and pulled guilt.
You intend to keep me crippled in this fashion.
I often tread in my dream threads wishing to swim
far away from the darkness you always fasten.
Someday, I will lose you as a nightmare captain.
Yes, I will disengage, I will make that truth happen.
You will sink or swim in seas you cannot harm or please,
that roll aloof despite your achieved skills to control
and I will thrive living a sanity scrolled, honest life.
Fractals.
Spawn of iterating quadratic functions.
Choreographers of cosmic conjunctions.
Impervious to human dysfunctions.
Makers of multiverses. Encoders of creations.
Limited only by imaginations.
Recursive. Coercive. Immensely immersive.
Purveyors of poetic creative cursive.
With formative fractals you’ll melt your mind’s shackles
and be anywhere that you may want to be.
You can form fractals to your own reality,
and make anything in the sky or the sea.
You can even repurpose them to poetry …
Yes, if
fractals were dactyls they’d flow off the page,
whirling and twirling, sublime.
Freeing us, being us, thoughts disengage,
teasing and pleasing with rhyme,
reaping the rhythms of time.
From mundane equations that yet yield complex
repetitive patterns that please and perplex,
come fractals so beautiful in all respects.
Constructors of coastlines and snowflake concerns,
foundries for forests, and feathers, and ferns,
the deeper you dive they have more twists and turns.
Generators of patterns, like veins in a leaf,
and the branches of trees, shapes of every motif.
Look around, everywhere, there are fractals, good grief!
From the large to the small and still smaller they flow,
simple patterns repeating, yet different, you'll know
that there’s just no escaping the great fractal show.
So, let’s face them, embrace them, we’ll host history.
Let us master them, plaster them, I guarantee:
merge your mind into fractals, you’ll set your soul free.
Reconstructed 3/22/2021, for the FRAGMENTS OF VERSE Poetry Contest, sponsored by John Lawless
I'm young with no identity,
A faceless boy, alone and shy.
To classmates, a nonentity;
My parents fret and wonder why.
I'm part of the unnoticed pack.
I step aside as others pass.
To be alone, I sit in back
And never volunteer in class.
I cannot dance or speak on stage
And hate to pose for photographs.
From social scenes I disengage
Avoiding bullies' taunts and laughs.
Uncaring, they my spirit crush.
At lunch I have no company.
I shrink from hugs and tend to blush
And dirty jokes embarrass me.
I dread the days we swim at school
And shower with the other boys.
I try, but nothing 'bout me's cool.
I lack both confidence and poise.
I'm frightened by the internet
Where vicious rumors often spread.
There mockery's a constant threat
While thoughts of vengeance fill my head.
The girls and jocks just walk on by.
They're unaware that I exist.
No welcome waves or friendly "Hi."
I'm seventeen and not been kissed.
The popular comprise a clique
Where bolder boys have fun and flirt.
Among my peers, I'm seen as weak,
And girls avoid an introvert.
The meek inherit all the earth.
That's what the Bible verse asserts.
But while alive, we've little worth.
We're targets for disdain and hurts.
Tomorrow's graduation day.
This high school torment will have passed.
When college life gets under way,
I hope for friends and peace at last.
Trying to invent one word poems
Called "texting treats."
Poems of five words or more?
Oh, no !
Are far too hard for us to read!
Itt's speed we need.
A reflection of this electronic age.
Short poems, short replies.
From the beauty of the English
language.....
We, hereby run in retreat.
And joyfully disengage our heritage!
November 17, 2019
The tiger, majestic and proud
Fearless, strong and solitary
A predator by nature
Domineering yet wary
The dove, gentle and harmonious
Passive and apprehensive
A free spirit by nature
But always on the defensive
The jungles most perilous feline
Encounters the fragile dove
A most unlikely pair
Yet they have found love
Their journey will be a challenge
Obstacles in every direction
A never ending conflict
Between rage and affection
Each possesses, what the other lacks
Complimenting and yet taunting
A compromise of character
Is what they are wanting
She wants his intemperance
He wants her domestication
Together seeking a compromise
In search of salvation
The dove cannot tame him
Or dismiss his need for the hunt
She must accept who he is
Placing him at the forefront
The tiger cannot disengage her
Or deride her passion to nest
He must accept who she is
Keeping her abreast
The future lies uncertain
For the tiger and the dove
But they can conquer anything
If they just remember to love
A spent sun shimmies down a sanguine sky,
into the ebony blackness of space.
And birds roosting in trees no longer fly,
while a full moon rises to find its place;
smiling down on Earth with a friendly face.
Chameleon clouds, crimson, and cerise,
graze the horizon like woolly pink sheep.
And as ruby rays of sunlight decrease,
slumbering stars awaken from their sleep;
while shape-shifting shadows stealthily creep.
Silhouettes merge, as dusk's darkness descends;
blurring the edges, where night's curtain drops.
And as the day's chatter silently ends,
billions of stars morph into backstage props;
while the show continues, and never stops.
A cricket's chirp announces the next act:
when nocturnal creatures take center stage.
And as moonbeams and fireflies interact,
owls and bats start to flex their wings backstage,
while the diurnal players disengage.
"Environmental suits all checked and rechecked. The chamber is sealed."
"PROCEED!".
"We're losing barometric pressure!"
"COMPENSATE!"
"Energy output is constant."
"The rift is stabilizing sir. Air pressure is equivalent to about 15,000 feet altitude."
"Spectrum analysis suggests a red star. That can't be right!"
"Still holding constant."
"EXTEND THE INTER-DIMENSIONAL LENS!"
"Lens breaching the rift."
"Looks about 3000 Kelvin. Oh my God!"
"WHAT?!?!"
"Something humanoid is looking back at us."
"THIS IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE TIME TO BE JOKING!"
"I'm serious sir. I'm switching to a broader view plane."
"No joke, Sir. I saw it too!"
"HOW COULD ANYTHING SURVIVE AT THAT TEMPERATURE?!"
"I did too, and it looked human."
"I've got more of them."
"The depth of field is very shallow, those behind it are blurry."
"What the Hell have we found here?"
"EXACTLY. DISENGAGE KEYHOLE NOW! NOW! NOW!"
20190123
Penning my thoughts is an important part of who I've become.
Some memories hit me hard, like they're beating on a drum
forcing me to acknowledge them, and a poem is the outcome.
Others make me smile, and to write of them I gladly succumb.
There are moments when my emotions inundate me with rage.
Flames ignite inside me that I fear could singe or burn the page.
That pent up angst against someone or thing I have to assuage
and writing poetry frees me from rancor when I must disengage.
Not all I write is of personal experiences in which I've had a role
I'm a bit too private to compose an intricate blueprint of my soul,
but I open my thoughts when creating idyllic imagery is my goal
and reveal heartache when writing of lost love and I lose control.
I write because when my heart is broken, I allow myself to cry
If my wounds have need to bleed, I offer no excuses as to why.
I can break Cupid's arrows, and clip his wings so he'll never fly
near me again, for love hurts too much to ever say 'good-bye.'
My poetry can sing a mourning song or take flights of fantasy
In verses I can choose to be anyone or anything I desire to be
The power of my pen can turn a fallacy into the truth and reality,
and change a pending tragedy into one that ends quite happily.
Authorship of verses gives me liberalism to pen with expression
Sometimes I concede my guilt and write a repentant confession
As a poet, I think composing is a catharsis to bouts of depression,
without exposing everything during a psychoanalyzing session.
I express my feelings when I view the beauty of a moonlit night
or when I witness sunrise paint the sky with glorious pastel light.
I scribe romantic sonnets about a princess and her white knight.
This gift of writing provides me with pleasure. and thus, I write.
Submitted on August 30, 2022
For the contest: I Write Because... Contest
Sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
I humbly offer to you,
an explanation for the madness
I submit the George Costanza defense,
as the reason for things which make no sense
A lie is not a lie,
if you choose to believe it's true
If you wish to believe it's not a lie,
then the consequences are on you
Fairy tales are for children,
and adult fantasies are for grownups
who wish to disengage from reality
A lie is not a lie,
if this is what you choose to believe
Do you wish to believe in myths,
do you wish to believe in what ifs?
Well, the world of make believe
is filled with fairies blowing stardust
But the world of reality
is filled with lovers of avarice and lust
In whom did you say you trust?
If the George Costanza defense
is your alibi for things which make no sense
Then a lie really ain't a lie ...
and a good laugh is what you have,
when you know you really need a good cry
Synopsis: The events in this poem never actually happened. I wrote this in a metaphor to
express what was going on at the time.
The stage lights up,
The curtains rise.
I raise my head,
And look in your eyes.
Sounds come through,
The music plays.
This song's for you,
You're in a daze.
The crowd is vast,
The fans are crazed.
You're leaving fast,
You looked amazed...
I keep on singing,
I don't understand.
Your ears are ringing,
I look at the band.
They're still playing,
I walk off stage,
Drop the mic,
And disengage.
I'm running for you,
And you look back,
You keep walking,
It feels like a smack.
I know you don't like it,
When i leave,
Pick up the mic,
And make you grieve.
There isn't much time,
At all anymore,
To see you be mine.
The music took o'er.
You couldn't take it,
Thats why you left.
Our anniversary,
I know I missed.
I know you planned,
And I ignored.
Now I'm banned,
From entering your door.
I finally catch up,
Tell you I'm sorry.
You give me a hug,
That night so starry.
I left the band,
We both kissed again.
I hope you understand,
I loved you more then.
Is there something in the water or air
that's spreading stupidity everywhere?
Children aren't learning their lessons in school,
vying to be the latest TikTok fool.
As a whole, society's devolving:
a worldwide problem, in need of solving.
It seems everyone is glued to their phones:
no individualism; we're mere clones.
The internet has morphed into a cage,
where stifled minds stagnate and disengage.
Hate and bigotry have gained a platform:
outrageous behavior is now the norm.
We're losing our ability to think
for it's much easier to interlink.
We're banning books, and we're ok with that:
letting the net filter what we look at.
If stupidity's something we can't fix:
try throwing common sense into the mix.
There is something wrong with people today:
AI does their thinking; what can I say?
Living in a false vision,while creating illusions of bad decisions.In my past when my footsteps became ashes,I was stealing for others who really need it.I position myself in danger countless times for strangers with smiling faces who take advantage of kindness,weakness,and talents.But now that Im polished in my craft,Im well balanced surrounded with solid knowledge and display my wisdom that pays attention and listen before I solved them.With tunnel vision deciphering through the rumble and rewritten for those who gets misguided.Cause in my experience language is the true connection of us breathing,while others sleep and dream about living,manuevering through life in a empty body suit in flesh,that dont bleed or shed.Barricaded themselves in there own prison,even there reflection denies its own visit.Its ashamed many dont realize in life we have options to disengage derange or grab on tight to what feels right.I tend to go down memory lane,visualize those precious moments in the past,were all lies,giggles and laughs.But now that I found God,I disgarded my mask,to show my true demeanor and pave my positive mission everlast.
“Should we deny ourselves pain, we would deny ourselves entry through many doors in our heart leading to where our soul patiently waits.” Poet
Many cannot conceive truths the faithful believe,
such as jagged edges lead us to deep places
where tranquility waits to be reality.
If only brains could disengage that souls alone
decided what to leave behind or closely hold.
When I stumble from life's roughness and bruises swell,
I cannot help but deep dwell in my heart and soul
where my injured bits sit ripped in cramped, frozen fits.
If we do not hurt, we do not bleed a true need
to learn which medical aids best persuade healings.
Life often snags me in jagged edged episodes
until I repair all frailty-stretched through prayer
and place it in my Father's hands of perfect grace.
The more jagged edges adhere, tagged for repair,
the more need we build to yearn for and turn to God
which grows awareness of our true depth caresses.
Fear no roughness on your heart but recall toughness
in your faith that will divinely define what gift
the rift can bring forth, be it soul growth or knowledge.
Jagged edges can teach us more than a college.
Will one more leave us in the morrow
And color sad the break of dawn
Will they leave words we can borrow
To inspire us when they're gone
Some leave no traces of their verse
Just the silence of an empty page
In quiet storms their words disperse
In wistful winds they disengage
Will it be you or will it be me
Who takes that silent flight
Or will we sail the cyber sea
Like ships passing in the night
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