Best Misdirect Poems
It is the house of consciousness
channeled from above
It is the home where dreams reside
The cozy place of love
Invisible, intangible
distinct from flesh and bone
commingled with the breath of life
brought forth by God alone
The coverings that we can see
the body, clothes and hair
can misdirect the human eye
from treasures buried there
Ravaged by disease and time
with battle scars to show
The human mind is prone to find
some judgment to bestow
Our love is often limited
to what we see and feel
and carelessly we overlook
what outer shells conceal
The loveliness of human flesh
does not increase one's worth
No man can judge the value
of a single life on earth
To take a closer look in faith
should be our common goal
for deep within each person lies
the beauty of the soul
Zoning by micro-climates my
Yards' spaces, and then
Xeriscaping them to conserve
Water because of the drought, I can
Visualize neat straight furrows
(Under colorful vines
Trailing red, green, and purple grapes)
Saturated with various seedlings:
Radishes, squashes, sprouts, etc.
Quietly absorbing sunlight, and
Pushing roots deeper into my
Organically amended soil.
Nasturtiums, previously planted,
Misdirect insects away from my plants.
Ladybugs, and other predators, help
Keep down the hostiles that got through.
Jumping forward from Spring to Fall,
I can imagine picking tomatoes from the vines,
Harvesting football-sized zucchinis,
Gathering various root vegetables, and
Fruits from bushes and trees.
Eating unwashed sweet peas
Directly from their pods.
Cooking pies from mixed berries I grew;
Baking pumpkin bread or zucchini bread.
Agonizing again over what to plant next year.
When I was a kid, I know, long ago,
We scrumped apples from neighbours orchards,
Climbed trees, scared bees, skinned our knees,
And once, quite daft, built a raft on the river exe,
Which upended before I knew about vanishing stability,
Or indeed, even my own ability, to do important stuff, like swim,
And my parents felt in charge, unaware of that near insanity,
Life was adventurous, often dangerous, pleasant calamity.
After all, boys will be boys!
Now today, I hear folk rein their children in,
Its considered a sin to even think of doing wrong,
Like pre-pubescent fun fair balloons,
Modern minor loons are floated on virtual strings,
That report everything, each step, each minor misdirect,
Social media monitored, mobile device ahead of vices,
No chances to learn how to exist around even minor risk,
As parenthood clashes charged glasses, after classes,
Why boys cannot be boys.
We learnt to stand firm in a boxing ring, ears ringing,
Whilst on the rugby field we were stamped into shape,
Little gingerbread dough boys, crusted up into teenage loaves,
That may not have been to everyones politically correct taste,
But no matter the blame, we learned to stand, just the same,
And despite accusations today we were neglected,
I grew up in a World where our parents were respected,
For we leant quickly the need to hear them often say,
But officer, boys will be boys.
@Andrew Carnegie, Wiltshire, January 2017.
If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk
Lots of praise, but little respect,
So many days, what do they expect?
My job is a maze, to serve and protect.
It hardly pays, last time I checked.
Into past I gaze, hardly time to reflect.
Could have gone many ways, why select,
My choice displays, too late to defect.
Myself I amaze, or does it infect.
Setting soul ablaze, leaving it unchecked.
Was it just a phase, or did I overprotect.
I now have malaise, in complete misdirect.
Retirement delays, takes the toll to intersect.
I gained a little praise, without any respect.
written for
Put Your Best Rhyme Forward!!!!! Free Poetry Contest
written by
Cecil Hickman
date written
12-07-13
Sometimes people manipulate circumstances point fingers;
And paint accusatory renderings of destruction;
Muted with the colors of intention to misdirect and discredit.
But when the dust settles the flags of honor can still be seen flying
And even though a house of love may be under siege;
There may be some still looking to acquire entrance;
Because there is often kindness;
And encouragement to believe in one’s self;
Even though the finger painters have told everyone they shouldn’t.
And some defenders may grow weary but continue on for reasons unknown
Yet dare to stress the importance of;
Never defecating where you eat;
Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer;
Because life can be a distorted reflection;
Of what seems larger than it really is.
Oh sing yon violin upon your strings
and play harps and lutes melodious things
come sooth my soul and for our losses
and shatter pain upon our bed of mosses
Dost thou dare to stay our hearts entwined
do cast your light and airy within our mind
so also to our agony do make us blind
where in time we shall life kinder find
Do misdirect my thoughts upon a fairer course
lead me now away from paths remorse
fail not to impart joy and from its source
and to the courts whats odious I do divorce
and there expire bitterness and mans afflictions
unto the burial sites with their benedictions
the ends of tribulations on the morrow
as I have some aspersion to this sorrow
Come twist your ropes do wrap in harmony
the golden strand in archetypes that be
fluid in the cups elixir we do drink
to shelter from woe and misery we sink
Clasp the inner man intone your song
return to us the living among our throng
embrace the consolation and hold whats dear
for upon us all this place draws ever near
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
As I blunder
Misdirect my course
Falling away
From recourse
I sit and sigh
The time is nigh
To get up and
Stand fast
Get a career
So my family can last
Take me
Shape me
Misdirect me
You always want to see me
Down on my knees
For ever
And ever
I will always
Be there in front of your face
Screaming
For years
And years
I have been obliged
Followed your rules
Without doubt or question
It is time
for change
MY words
Echoing in YOUR ears
Fear no longer exists
You will always
Try to break me
But I'll always be there
Infront of your face
With eyes wide open
With a mouth wide open
And a fist raised
High up the air
This time
I won't
Sit back and watch
You kill ever last inch
Of me
I will
Do whatever I can
To bring you down
And I am not alone
You will fall
Enough of
Your lies
Your dirty and filthy lies
You are always in disguise
Nothing but a coward, who will soon die
I'm stronger
With stronger faith
I have multiplied
And always will
I am the vox populi(1)
You will always
Try to break me
But I'll always be there
Infront of your face
With eyes wide open
With a mouth wide open
And a fist raised
High up the air
(1)Vox populi, a Latin phrase that literally means "voice of the people"
The Truth
I am here to make you...
uncomfortable.
I am the truth,
the whole truth,
nothing less than,
but there is more.
The problem is you never look for it.
You never step outside your zone,
your place of origin,
your home inside,
where you hide.
The world is not passing by,
it is coming this way,
like a freight train without tracks,
able to misdirect and confuse
the course of action
that has already been taken,
will be taken,
and will be "took".
Ask yourself,
who or what do you believe?
Ask yourself,
critical questions,
before you end up in
the emergency room,
fair game for experiments,
that might go wrong,
who knows?
The streets are not safe anymore.
The schools have been overtaken by unicorns.
Homeless heroes are treated badly,
less than the scum of the Earth.
No homage to their personal sacrifice for all,
at all.
Rotten Politian's that suck the marrow,
from the citizen's bones,
bask in the moment,
but will pay a "measure" in the end,
in full.
Preachers,
pastors,
oath breakers,
and simple plain takers,
will be the makers of their own demise,
the sin of which is blacker than
darkness can be.
This could go on,
and it may never end.
But it stops here,
with a fear,
for the ones that dwell on the lie,
of the apple pie,
and eat until they are truly content.
The witch asked the children,
what flavor candy they loved most?
She did so to make a gravy,
a sauce,
for her dinner,
that night.
It was the last question,
she asked,
and she wanted a
truthful answer.
If there’s no god, why show respect
for pain that’s felt by an insect,
for doesn’t that in part deflect
from order’s natural select
which did from soup somehow infect,
cajole or otherwise confect
life as we know it, and inject
complexity, until bedecked,
upon the scene comes Man, erect?
A pain-free god’s what you expect?
It seems creation's architect
is oft accused by means direct
(an argument they resurrect),
of child abuse, pain and neglect,
a charge to which I must object.
Though I'm not needed to protect,
still neither shall this go unchecked.
Although I mean no disrespect,
I think when one is circumspect,
allows not logic to defect,
to fancy, does not genuflect,
and stops carefully to reflect,
they, too, will see the disconnect.
For when they do, I do suspect,
unwittingly, Godhead bisect
(it's rare, if I may interject,
that they might attempt to trisect),
considering not, in effect,
that though there are three intellects,
their wills, communal, intersect,
their overlap complete, correct.
Now you may ask what this affects,
but what it means is all aspects
of common will and dialect,
are locked in a direct connect,
such that when one of them elects
to carry out a plan perfect,
none are diminished, none henpecked,
nor subject to a misdirect,
nor actions that might disaffect,
nor any sovereign state rejects
(hence child abuse notions are wrecked).
I have the scriptures to inspect;
in these I cannot recollect
attempts from truth to redirect,
so I eject as incorrect
the notion that God did elect
to avoid pain, to disinfect,
but rather, chose pain to connect
with life, with us, and with respect,
through Christ, and not in retrospect.
2016 began on 8.13 and ended on 9.30 2017.
Betrayed and inhaling for the last 9 minutes,
My mother shooed with imaginary broom,
The puny demon trying in final futility
To misdirect her soul.
She breathed her last at 1800 or so.
Hail Marys pumping faster with each step toward God's Love.
One thoughtful phone call no later than 1830, the residents carefully chosen informed regrets followed through the speaker of his celluar phone, triangulated to the landline not 6 miles away.
The complications of a complicated brain experiment failed,
Took my mommy from me.
52 weeks, unveiled the woman and her cancer stage 4,
Who expelled her virgin mistake.
One month later, exit the biological lady, whom everyone loved, and I had just met.
Mommy meet mom.
Together they light a candle that smells of a Thanksgiving dinner, like safe and warm, and feed the banquet guests both too busy to sit.
Slippery and slick
Greasy
Teflon
Eel
Grasping the truth like
Driving
Without
A wheel
Divert them and misdirect
Hide
Slink
Slither
It all will mount up
Soul
Shrink
Wither
Smoke and Mirrors
Shade
Shadows
Dark
Where will it end?
Life
Without
Spark
Be straight and true
Open
Honest
Sincere
More of this we need
Truth
We should
Revere
Are you honorable?
Upright
Decent
Good
Do you have values?
Exist
Without
A hood
Be who you really are
Arrow
Straight
Upright
Not another mask
Hidden
Out of
Sight
The time of your life is now.
Your past is no more
And your future is tomorrow.
The essence of life, and the world,
Is planted in your soul
And grows like wild daffodils.
The light shining from within you
And the peace you radiate
Attract those around you.
Some may try to mislead and misdirect,
But you will quickly find those that are true.
You are an asset to those
Whose lives you touch.
You bring beauty and serenity
To a world full of chaos and trash.
Go forward my young friend.
Live the time of your life.
Be free. Live wise.
Be young. Remain you.
Love,
Signs here, Signs there, Signs everywhere.
Square, Octagon, Triangle, even Rhombus.
Rectangle or Circle. I saw a Pentagon.
Colorful, Neon, Plain or Elaborate.
Wooden, Paper, Metallic, or Glass.
Italic, Roman, Gothic, or Arial.
To Sell, For Sale, or Sold.
To Buy, To Rent, or Free.
Discounts, Bargains, or Markdowns.
Moving, Moved, or Out of business.
Signs are to enlighten, motivate not misconceive.
Signs are to enhance, to assist not misgovern.
Signs are to share, make aware not misinform.
Signs are to guide, show the way not misdirect.
Context each a feature, joust by name-
Whose length of lance shall contact be made first
Both are measured equal, and held the same
But only one shall win, the other cursed.
And intricate does a magical reform
Both horse and armour contribute to show;
Some skills, that to entice shall new inform
Be something that the other didn't know.
Where this becomes as close to misdirect
It doesn't choose a whereabouts or plan
But instincts out to find it then connect;
To make the fall to ground, a weaker man.
When honour was presented to enthral
It chose the braver option over all.