Best Ignorance Poems
Ignoring ignorance annoys the ignorant.
Some people take to Facebook
In an effort to create
A safe and pleasant habitat
Unfriending those who wish debate.
But still rile against a college chum
Who's not lost their winter weight.
We drone on about the weather
Far too often before we die.
Talking incessantly about our children
To those unfortunate to catch our eye.
But fail to address substantive issues
And I have to question why?
No religion, politics or talk of sex
To free us from our doubt.
Avoiding issues that may offend
Seems the safer route.
But spotting the neighbor wearing spandex
Deserves a rapid shout.
No fossil fuel or global warming talk
To change us from our course.
And any attempt to grow our minds
Is met with dogged force.
It's far better to speak of gardening tips
Which we heartily endorse.
We close our eyes and dim our ears
To the thornier things in life.
And may indeed find sweet sanctuary
From unwanted social strife.
But rest assured we'll have wasted much
In a desire to escape our neighbor's knife.
We avoid such talk and play it safe...
Our true essence hidden from the fray.
But I have to tell... my greatest fear
That haunts and tasks me to this day.
Is when we stand before the gates of Heaven...
We'll have nothing much to say.
The End
*Check out my cartoon on Webtoons Dave McHattie.
ice caps melting
sea levels rising ~
global warning
plastic pollution
killing marine life ~
sea sobs salty tears
deforestation
wildlife now homeless ~
mankind to blame
Hiku (Disciplined Brevity) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula
11/21/21
The glass chatters, clanks, and shatters
As it hits the ground
But makes no sound
The only thing heard is the
Screams of pain
As I get hit into the glass
Blood everywhere
Pain unbearable
The ripping of flesh
Cracking of bones
Screams of pain
Yet no one hears the screams
No one to save me
From this nightmare
From that thing
Evil and putrid
Bragging of his virtue
But he’s hurting me
Ripping my skin
Breaking my bones
No one can hear my screams of pain
Why can’t they hear me?
Does virtue truly block others from seeing the torment before them?
Does it make its followers so blind they cant see the bruises?
Does it make its followers so deaf they can’t hear me begging for mercy?
she said my words tore away at her.
i wasn't looking at her eyes at the time.
she made me look.
pain!, yes
she wanted me to see her pain.
instead,
i imagined her naked.
imagined her left hand moving towards her nipple.
her right hand she said
held her face turned around.
because,
that is how i made her feel.
i pretended to listen.
i didn't hold her.
i didn't speak.
still,
i had sex with her.
afterward she looked sad
and i felt something.
i think.
no.
i'm sure.
it made me feel
i felt
as if i had violated her.
i felt
like i should say sorry.
I didn't,
the sex was good.
22~12~2014
With Love
Maurice Yvonne
gambolling spring lamb
eating lush grass in fields
soon to be dinner
29th April 2015
ignorance's bad smell
that can be smelt in action
pollutes through chaos
wisdom's silent light
treasure of all happiness
offer always peace
It lies in wait
to quickly strike,
this predatory beast
It binds you up
in iron chains
and on your life does feast
Unmerciful,
and so it gives
no quarter to its prey
Like being dead
while yet alive
your mind is in decay
And everywhere
I see this beast
alive and well and free
Just like a pet
it's kept and loved
and fed by you and me
Oh, what a shame
that most will fail
to understand that they
unleash this beast
upon themselves,
a heavy price to pay
When people put
their blinders on
true knowledge is erased
For ignorance
will settle in
where welcome mats are placed
To take the hero's journey, I left the ordinary world.
Now my heart is wildly pounding because the wolf is at my door.
That tireless executioner craves the very blood therein my veins,
but I set out to defeat it, so I guess I can’t complain.
The wolf is known as “ignorance” - when he’s posing as a sheep.
The most frightening aspect of the wolf is that he has a home - in me.
I find myself both - the hunter and the hunted.
I’m the question and the answer, the cure and the cancer,
the music and the dancer, the magic and the necromancer.
It is perhaps the hurried way I walk,
May be the manner in which I talk,
Or is it the subtle perfume I wear,
That tells a Gynaecologist is near!
When I park my car, head up stairs,
I see patients sat on waiting chairs,
Smiling women with a hope for child,
Seeking from me what nature denied!
Birth of a child is a boon from heaven,
Yet rarely is the fault of these women,
Their husbands blame it all on germs,
When often they are short of sperms!
detailed talk always reveals the truth,
They have been secluded since youth,
they have learnt of babies and stork,
So far there has been no sex talk!
you may think the husbands be wise,
He looks educated, mild and nice,
But he has been to the same school,
He has no idea how to work his tool!
In vitro fertilisation is clinical answer,
Something very easily done by nature,
When they successfully have a baby,
You even have to teach them a lullaby!
Social prejudices, religious shackles,
Is reason for these sorry debacles,
Fear of sex impairs their normal life,
Married, yet he doesn’t know his wife.
Two decades of life as gynaecologist,
Seen more eggs than an ornithologist,
While birds and animals breed so free,
Human breeding needs a medical degree!
They give me flowers, thank you card,
They say my finger tips are like God!
But deep inside I know reason why,
The man is ignorant, the girl is shy!
Date 27/03/2020
Strand poetry contest
Sponsor Brian strand
The left blame the right, the right blame the left,
both concealed in ideology logically lost on me.
It's not that I don't understand, there's no one with which I stand,
both succeed in ways necessary then turn sour though a good recipe.
The point and blame at those with fame game stays the same,
.....somewhat lame.
All I've learnt from this,
is they've no alternatives,
so take turns in bliss
and ignorance lives.
And as the system alternates,
between political counterweights,
with opposing views on politics,
all I think is bollocks to this.
The chickens we rear -
no dearth of them here,
sustained by our hands.
Without us, they perish
i byn the wild :
starved, predated, diseased.
We crave their meat,
their eggs,
the money they bring.
A thought arises :
Are we also reared,
unknown to us.
12.12.2025
If the angel of death
tells you when your day is fixed ,
you start to die on the same day.
If the angel of luck
tells you the day of your luck,
you will be lazy the next day.
If the angel of illness
Lets you know your day of illness
you will not be healthy ever since.
If the angel of love tells your love -
awaited comes to you on a day,
You won't be worthy of love since then.
If the angel of life
tells you that a long life awaits you
you will be careless the same day
So don't worry if you are anxious
Certain ignorance makes us wiser
Fulfillment of life comes by willing
Than leave it to fate to conclude.
Journey to the unknown is a thrill
That's how life teaches us to sail.
We act in ignorance and call it sin,
being sadly, the genesis of guilt,
so if we wish to be free, let’s begin
by discarding beliefs that make us wilt,
remodelling mind on such beliefs built.
Love all embracing, is quick to forgive,
so let vibrancy be the way we live,
releasing ourselves from fears forms we spawn,
knowing God’s boundless love always does give,
living mindfully, each breath a new dawn.
those who claim to understand
and then turn their back on where they stood
sending auxiliaries under the guise of liberation,
only after supplying the shackles of our own making
they chant of peace-making and lawfulness,
only to drown out the cries of the weary
introducing inconceivable fallacies as gospel into the minds of the masses
wielding ignorance sharpening it until it blooms into hatred
offering remedies to manufactured illnesses,
a corruption to the general mind
a mind that has long since merged into one
we stand in harmony, devoid of unity, tuning into the frequency of their desire
birthing thoughts of incest,
children of big big brother
marching blindly into a battlefield of the deaf
what we ignore may not be what we accept,
but what we condone