Best Disinterest Poems
It was tantalizing, sweet completion
Lines of blue ink filling white space
Tastes of emotions, colors of consonants
Music of vowels, syllables singing
To create, and satiate
Then, time thinned
Responsibility and stress stepped in
Poetry, after all, does not pay the bills
Stop cloud watching and become an adult
They said, and they were right
So I packed her away, that silly girl
relegated to the dusty back room of memory
Gray and wilted, foolish scribblings
Nobody cared about anymore
Years, decades of feigned disinterest
Begins to dissolve in rediscovering
The flash of joy in composing
Ignited by a song-writing friend
Who dared encouragement
Steps sluggish, atrophied, but there
Saved in muscle memory
I hungered for nourishment, for balance
On unsteady limbs - I wanted my silly girl back
And I have her, revived on Soup from
My poetry sisters and brothers
Now, I am gaining
The reach of my wings
Soaring over cities of sonnets
Neighborhoods of roundels and rispettos
A haiku hamlet, an acrostic alleyway
Kingdoms of pantoums and villanelles
To the unfenced openness
Of free verse
I am still the bedrock of me
Stretching to climb taller trees.
2/23/19
While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.
Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel,
And so before it I choose to kneel.
I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.
I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.
I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.
My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.
Perhaps I’m facing pogonophobes?
Apparently wore the wrong face.
Age-hardened wiry wisps forge
post-pubescent platemail -
protect strangers
from my truest fleshy pores, protect me
from the xenophobes of the Winter Conference.
It’s all pitching and coffee breaks
In a hall too grand for these meager mergers
Silent hecklers - likely clean-shaven -
likely Twitter-blasting about
an awkward pitch
and bitterness.
A beard grows opacity over my ebullient disinterest,
feigns sophistication amidst sophists,
and harbors microbes – an entire ecosystem –
Bored, I wonder;
Do they hold conferences as well?
Share stories around a follicle?
How uncomfortable
the itch of capitalism,
This profit pilgrimage
huddles us together
for that sickness to spread.
Free meals, networking with the estranged -
connect vacuously over downed drinks
and political action.
Shallow words spread thick
on the biological superhighway
bacterium feast freely.
The Winter Conference;
a microscopic windfall.
CONTEST ANNOTATION:
I’ve attempted to employ alliteration (‘post-pubescent platemale’), ambiguity (‘…for that sickness to spread’), double entendre (‘free meals’ and ‘bacterium feast freely’), imagery (‘my truest fleshy pores’, ‘Age-hardened wiry wisps’), paradox (‘ebullient disinterest’, ‘networking with the estranged’), and parallelism (‘likely clean-shaven – likely Twitter-blasting’). Not sure I’ve nailed every aspect of these devices - love the contest format as a way to force us in new directions!
BLUE
The rain startled the clouds and fell like
a scare of possibilities. The day toggled
from then to now like a withering widow
A flustered squirrel sat and squirmed
and still nibbled at a dry stump
like eliciting poetry off ancient prose
Some never knew the intent of need
others feigned disinterest in inquests
turning over their earths again and again
I read the prognosis of your vertigo
And derived a rider. That it was mere
Math to team up or to sleep in the buff
An unpredicted rite of passage
after all shenanigans stand erased
to uncover new aquifer in antique spandrel.
To discover that the sky was never this blue.
10 Nov 13
For Chris' contest
Most are related to shipwrecked ghosts,
accomplices of my blood
that can still be found
in geographically scattered albums.
When there were cities to occupy,
they lived one level below expectations.
Like defective fireworks, some went off early.
A more dedicated few grew old and medicated.
They built defunct railroads and dug ditches
they later fell into.
They were navigators of small shady schemes.
Their brief settlements and abrupt departures
left fuzzy lines on blacktops and concrete.
As a family, we are estranged and unknown,
but we do speak to our dead
if they come to call, of course
only after a respectable period
of life-long disinterest.
I am pretty.
I know, because everyone says so.
I am so pretty that
Hoodies and lack of makeup
Translate as showing off
Natural beauty- as confidence
In the fact that everyone
Will love me,
Instead of disinterest...
I am so pretty that
Boys ask how old I am,
And say, "Too bad..."
Because I'm under 18.
I am so pretty that
My boyfriend doesn't like
To kiss me in public
Because everyone stares
At the Hispanic boy
With- The nerve!-
To touch a white girl-
And a pretty white girl,
No less!
I am so pretty that
Any boy will flirt with me
And when I remind them
That I have a boyfriend,
They protest,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty that
When my best friend,
A Muslim girl,
Taught me how to wear
A hijab,
People asked why
Would I ever cover up;
They would say,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty
That I know I could never
Say that I feel lonely-
People would just say,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty that
When I'm upset,
People will tell me,
"But you're so pretty...
You, know that, right?"
Yeah. I know.
Glance
Gaze
Crave
Fixate
Taste
Appreciate
Cherish
Obsess
Possess
Ingest
Indulge
Engulf
Full
Bulge
Break
Ache
Distaste
Disgust
Disgorge
Disinterest
Ignore
Bored
More
Weary, sluggish and silent with apathy and
disinterest, I sullenly reflect and
languish....
My thoughts—thick and heavy like
molasses—painfully churn and swirl in
and out of my head and spill against the
background of dead silence of my living
room....
They are in constant motion, while I sit in
the living room mute and gagged and bound
with the world-weariness of a lifetime and
stare blankly into empty space by looking
inward....
Even the furnishings around me defer to
my now sullen mood. Not saying a word
and bowing their heads, they hold their
tongues and keep their thoughts to them-
selves out of respect and deference for my
silent and solemn doldrums....
The flat-panel TV, otherwise always on
and hyper-gregarious, for once regards my
sullenness and apathy with its own....
I sit exactly thus—
alone,
but in the sympathetic company of my
furniture and belongings....
They whisper to me of a time when I was
sinful and wanton and remind me of the
need for redemption....
I remember, and take heed by repenting....
And by doing so, I have narrowly avoided
reaping and gathering the terrible,
karmic consequences
of an unspeakable harvest of sins
for myself!
I feign disinterest
Because to appear too interested
Might cause unrest in you
Who claims he too is tired
Of the loneliness that comes from
Being alone yet you want to remain
Single, unfettered and untethered
And so enforce the 72 hour hold. . .
What is that about anyway?
You ask for my number and give
Me yours but don’t call before
The end of day three because
It might appear that you are
Lonely or heaven forbid—desperate
And so we’re back to the beginning
Feigning disinterest and remain in
Our cells lonely or alone
It's Friday! And it’s “Girls’ Night Out"! His favorite dinner and wine we shared!
We give each other a little bit space, at least, once every other week
Any given night, always a special treat, we may choose to cuddle instead
Whatever desires the other may have, each makes sure to prioritize
That’s the routine in our love nest; it’s just how we sail this boat
Dressed in stretched jeans; curves seemly more pronounced and I feel burning eyes upon me
Yes, I know that look so very well, but tonight, that can’t go down
To put him off, I attempt light conversation; to sort of change his unspoken
suggestion
I nonchalantly ask, “What game are you planning to watch, Love?"
With a silent, hope, that craving eyes would deflect
Deliberately, I avoid his intense stare, speaking loudly, a language I know too well
Too late! In just two steps he’s all over me; and I melt like butter in the sun
“Can’t you call? Say you’ll be a little late, hmm?” He whispers in my ear
“No, Love, the last time I did that, we fell asleep, remember?”
“Look, I’ll set the alarm, just one hour will do; I’m missing you already”.
Like a kid, he begins to pout and guilt raps at my heart’s door
Planting warm butterfly kisses the expanse of my neck
Murmuring low, words he knows I love to hear
And though I feign disinterest, persistent hands unrelenting
“Will you call and tell her? Will you, or I’ll call if you like?”
He may be unaware, though it’s hard to tell, as there are no secrets which I can maintain
In my mind I’ve already begun to disrobe him; my favorite dance flats cast aside
On the verge of giving in, I raise up my head to gaze those smoldering eyes
In that instant, I’m captured; cornered, again
His brilliant smile from lips so soft appears plastered on his chiseled face
Fully aware he’s won like so many times before
He picks up the phone, hits speed dial with one hand free;
The other is wrapped snugly 'round my waist as I admire his one track mind
“Hi Caitlin! Listen... …Yes, she’ll be late. Now, how'd you know?”
And her laughter rings throughout cyber space as she's made a prudent guess
“That’s fine, I just know!” She replied, still chuckling. “Ask her to call me before she leaves, will you?”
“Oh sure! Whatever you say, dear.”
~*~
For: Francine's "Whatever You Say, Dear" Contest
I Have a Serious Case Of... (how the title SUPPOSED to look!!!)
Boredom.
Ennui.
Tedium.
Apathy.
Disinterest.
Indifference.
Lethargy.
Monotony.
Dullness.
Lassitude.
Listlessness.
Repetitiveness (repetitiveness).
Incuriosity.
Jadedness.
Disregard.
Immobility.
Unfocussed.
Distraction.
Disinclination.
Aversion.
Avoidance.
Discontentment…
… or just plain “cannot be arsed”!
We all get to the point sometimes
not knowing anymore,
with all the chaos in the world,
what cause we're fighting for.
Events can knock life sideways
and its easy to see,
how we can fall in to a trap
of growing apathy.
When disinterest in the world occurs
we become somewhat recluse,
thinking what's the difference anyway
who cares and what's the use.
It's a task to stay positive,
when surrounded by despair,
It's much easier to shut the door
choosing not to care.
When a moment of joy occurs
that we can revive,
we should hold on to that moment
and try to keep it alive.
For apathy is dangerous
it breeds inhumanity,
science can cure most evils
but it can't cure apathy.
Lost upon the leash
Of relative moons eye
Watching through telescopic
Troughs of dirt
Open mouthed it crosses
The pathways of oblivion
Not loving grace
Upon which we have died
Kick out the words
Being the roused child
But never the adult
To whom the pain envelops
But time doses the realm
Of disinterest
Where it can be found
Losing the battle of faith
But hope strings along
In a song for the ages
Posting another glimpse
Into pathways gone before
Truth is, never listened
To the train whistle
While sitting on the tracks
The sharks will attack
If allowed to skim
The worst of the scud
The moon, the rain
Each position themselves
To find a place amongst
The greats, but flatter
Where calm wind evokes
The hearts beating place
Opening the furnace
Of the harmonious catch
Does it work correctly
While slipping downwards
The realm escapes my mind
Russell Sivey
Anxiety increases as Christmas draws near
Kids may not get what they asked for, they fear,
It’s presents holding them rapt, not good cheer
Santa shows disinterest, he has another beer
‘Tis Mrs. Claus stretching the budget this year.
Written December 11, 2022
The Poverty of This World
“15 The wealth of the rich is their fortified city, but poverty is the ruin of the poor. 16 The wages of the righteous is life, but the earnings of the wicked are sin and death.” Prov 10:15-16 NIV
The Poverty of This World
Is due to a lack of love.
Man’s disinterest in his fellow man
Is watched by God above.
If each heart was touched by compassion,
What a different world we would see;
There’d be much less selfishness;
Clean water available as a necessity.
We have so much to be grateful for—
God has provided it all.
Let’s pray we can make a difference
To the poor whose voices silently call.
They need food and shelter
And should never be denied.
Because of billions hoarded,
The accumulation of wealth should be decried.
Let’s pray for hearts to be softened,
And the needs of others to be met.
Needs must be provided for
Before salvation can be set.
Even those who have no money,
Can pray for the needs instead.
God will make provision;
He did from five fishes and two loaves of bread.
The Poverty of This World
Should make us all ashamed,
That we do not do more for others;
Only we ourselves can be blamed.
One person can make a difference;
One heart is better than none.
One heart that’s open to Jesus—
Claims the needs of poverty to be won.
© Copyright 2012 Maureen LeFanue
www.maureenlefanue.com