Best Misinterpretations Poems
Hocus Pocus
Poets are like magicians.
They trick the heart into feeling,
“things” they had no idea, were there at all.
Sadly poets don’t always know how their tricks work.
They sit and think, and study, and hope and even pray.
They are prone to mistakes and misinterpretations.
Yet…
Poets, dare to dream in colors,
of blue, and yellow, and green.
They sing songs to no one,
people that can barely hear at all.
They make jokes that people miss,
sometimes on purpose.
“May I read you this?” a courageous voice in the crowd.
Met with scoffs and “Oh my’s” or worse.
“How long will it be, why did you bother?”
“Will it make me laugh or smile?”
“Perhaps I do not want to feel that way!”
Then…
they leave their words,
lying on the ground.
Un...cared for.
A blessing,
they are found…
treasures all around.
words on a page, a tiny perfect stage.
When we are alone,
not being what others say we are…
we are closer to ourselves and not far from Him.
Some of us, not all of us, but a few…
look at the words and dare to consider,
to ponder how it feels to fly, from a wheelchair,
to sing without a voice,
to laugh at yourself,
and even…
dare to love.
Categories:
misinterpretations, 12th grade, abortion, abuse,
Form:
Free verse
What is it to hear a poem?
Ears ajar.
Eyes focused.
Mouth shut.
I struggle to listen when such words cut open
my head and try to make a nest out of my brain.
I DO NOT WISH TO HEAR A POEM!
My body jolts under these straps of limitation,
tightened by my ability to hear.
Why must one be limited to hear a poem?
I cast out stones towards those who care to listen.
Why don’t we be the poem?
Climb inside the mouth of a poem and
understand it’s true voice.
Be the pen kicking fiercely at the paper,
leaving behind marks of genius and creativity.
Rip open the heart of a poem and suck its
blood dry.
Feel a poem.
Be a poem.
Live a poem.
See words rise from the paper,
as they dance between the strings
of your heart.
Grab a hand of the message and twirl
it around your mind and smother its
meaning with praise.
Curl up inside the dot of an ‘i’.
Slide across an ‘l’ and mold it into a ‘t’.
Travel across an empty plain were stubborn
boulders cry.
Attack black and white ideas with shades
of blue and green.
Drive a sword through their hearts and leave
them dead to what is known.
Fight a poem.
Hurt a poem.
Heal a poem.
Turn the waste of sound into
vibrant waves of belief and inspiration.
Let yourself be swept away by
imagination and surrealism.
Find your soul inside of a poem and
claim it as your own.
Bring down the fortress of structure and
make its remains into martyrs of lost cause.
Open the doors of a poem and remodel
what’s inside.
NO! I do not want to hear a poem!
It sends pain through my soul to see the
voice of a poem silenced by the ignorant
dangers of sound.
Help yourself and plug your ears.
Visualize the words through serene images of
beauty cultured by unmatchable craft.
See a poem.
Grab a poem.
Know a poem.
Be influenced by a poem.
Learn a poem and all of its meanings.
Threaten a poem.
Scare a poem.
Stab a poem.
Teach it how to live amongst a world of vultures,
hungry for mistakes and misinterpretations.
Guide a poem into a building filled
with a million little fingers.
Like a poem.
Be touched by a poem.
Love a poem.
Show the world your insides.
Show them the words to your poem.
Categories:
misinterpretations, devotion, imagination, inspirational, passion,
Form:
Personification
I came as an unaffected statue
Halloween depiction depicting everything
vaguely-leaving margins for misinterpretations
like hieroglyphics deciphered by illiterates
scawling crayon scratch book reports
Walk in these shoes
Feel the pavement scrape through openings worn through souls
and feel the contours of the Earth ravaging
~merciless~
Take the reigns of this chariot
rambling around on undiscernable tracks often
backwards-hobbling humbly
numbly picking up pieces from a patchwork jigsaw
picture possesing voids in the most beautiful places
Climb this tree and know the shaky footfall limbs
sprawl like weeping willow tendrils on my fathers branch
bare and abandoned like locusts came, fed, and fled
watch the forest flourish and realize
this tree is flawed yet resilient
rooted in the strength of adversity
Stethoscope this heart and enjoy the offbeat beat
thumping in uneven peak and valley arrythmia
loving deeply and loved shallow, coldly
berating every executioner who killed
my adoration quotient with dull unfeeling axes
Leaving tides turned, churning me to hurt
Vengefully....Senselessly
Leaving no paths passing me passively
~~passion is my blessing and curse
Categories:
misinterpretations, introspectiontree, me, tree,
Form:
Free verse
And then paper went silent
leaving same sensation
again that bloody feeling of
big mountain exploding in heat inside my armour plate
just couldn't write the words
with no love among them
their people beheaded one of mine
now trough mine borders theirs screamed for salvation
mine theirs
ours
where did we displaced ours
when
how
always the same in that vicious circle
love and hate chase each other endlessly
clocks are falling off the walls
no limited time period for hate is permitted
as evil is another face of good
just turn that goddamned another cheek
an eye for an eye isn't our god's choice
if it was
He would wiped us out from the planet
we killed his son
now we are killing someones children again
beheading
lifting the wall
strengthened by words
anchored through indifference
they are theirs
send them back
what is broken
can be mended
will never be the same
send them back
shouldn't write those words
with no love among them
they are terrorists
terror could be ours
but europe remains for europeans
send them back
our future is their raping our women
lifting our towns in the air
bombing our schools
churches
hospitals
theirs and ours
under the same sky
stood
And all of that is their now
did I wrote the words
with no love among them?
beheaded religion
and traditionally incorporated patriotism
have written false flag play
clean heart has no misinterpretations
to write a life
only needed is courage
let that paper speak again
trough our borders theirs screaming for salvation
our is beheaded
already tomorrow will be forgotten
as it is less painful
and paper is mute
informations can't endure despair
have you seen them over there
standing in the rain
soaked to the bones
children
women
men
old man
sick
cripled
exausted
heaven is trying to protect their imperfection
mixing his tears with their cry
cleaning them enough so they can merit that crossing
fragile thoughts
mine
climbing over baptised palms
colliding them in prayer for
landless
nameless
lifeless
godless
why have you made us like this?
God went silent
ours
Categories:
misinterpretations, nonsense, society,
Form:
Free verse
But one day I will, a witness
Muslims and Christians,
even, the traditionalists
When tears will grace this face
Within which my joy will cry
In it my pains of insecurity
The anguish in misinterpretations
The one of which siblings and kids
friends and families in lost
But my tears will wash away
The sorrows of the past
When Muslims, and Christians
even, the traditionalists
Will kiss and exchange breads
In it my tears will grace this face
Within which my joy will cry
That pains and insecurity has gone
When Arabs will sought the Jews
And Ibos will hold Fulanis in kiss
That day, I will, a witness
{Culled from Colours In My Rhythms by Abimbola Davis}
Categories:
misinterpretations, emotions, life, love,
Form:
Imagism
Some people always have false impressions
In their intricately folded, convoluted brains
Associating Kindness with Weakness;
Thinking of Straightforwardness as of Stupidity
Making it form of mental sickness of the mind;
Not appreciating or comprehending either.
Instead, preferring Callousness to Others
Sprinkled with Mindless Lies - to top it all off.
Categories:
misinterpretations, allegory,
Form:
Concrete
-Quiet voices with low decibels are taken with offense. Preconceived notions, spoken words without thought, inserting smileys to disclaim. Invertebrate personas can be seen evaporating from the skin, with the naked eye. Forming a resin that keeps building up over time. Labeling you with defects of character. Beating around the bush, hiding from problems; loose ends form. Texts twist the dough sprinkled with good intentions. Life's a *****, it hurts, don't it? Untied shoes are today's special, featuring potential failure. Intentional lack of preparation. Detached from the lanyard of civilization. Eyes disconnect; declining their calls. Reading the texts with disregard. Getting notifications and silencing alarms. Misdirected; free-falling off the imaginary edge of fictional beliefs. Playing a new version of make believe. Pretending with the help of it's big brother assumption, the answers we do not know. Taking offense to the actions committed with good intent. Overthinking the simple things in life. Misinterpretations of the harmless innuendos.
Categories:
misinterpretations, social,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Hello everyone after reading quite a few of your poems today I was inspired to write
this one on the spot... I am at work and it took me 2mins to compose. I welcome
feedback and I have about 50 poems from about the age of 14 to upload
eventually… Love this site and you guys...
HERE GOES....
I Wish
I wish I could give you free reign to explore my mind to understand my motives and
intentions
I wish I could do the same with yours so that every expression I utter you would get
the meaning without misinterpretations
I wish I could explain ‘a feeling’ indeed so you would know exactly how I feel
I wish I could taste literally an emotion so somehow I could re-create that portion
I wish you could know, how much you would grow if only my wish could come true
...
Categories:
misinterpretations, fantasy, girlfriend-boyfriend, imagination, lovepoems,
Form:
Free verse
She's aware he's awfully chivalrous for carrying such casual intent
While there's subconscious recognition he's a blend of canny ways
Mixed with filthy desire
Leaving her plenty of room for discontent
His finicky facade that this helpless girl can't help but admire
While to herself she's being a liar
As if she could deny this mans selfish pursuance
Her misinterpretations are inevitable
A genitive surefire
He'll maintain his obvious avoidance for exclusivity
She'll claim to have been perpetually blinded by his witty ways
As she induced her own misfire
Those eyes of his will misconstrue
Betting on the fact she'll negate her own savvy finesse
That self proclaimed ability to see through
Inevitably he'll be praised and built up as a statue
Like his soul
He'll be mended of stone
While in the interim
She'll be gazing pitifully
Into shades of blue
Categories:
misinterpretations, visionary,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Mystery Contest
Sponsor: Nayde Ivette Negron
A secret within the realm of yesterday begins today and
tomorrow’s illusions become next week’s puzzle. One of the
mysteries of this world is that no matter who is struggling,
there are three more people who are alone. So why are
people alone in this world? There are many reasons to back
it up. Freedom requires desire. Chains restrict common
misinterpretations. The way we feel for ourselves has become
the greatest question. Conundrums act as they are beneath
us. Actuality reveals they are above the medium of our soul.
Because we crave answers on why we feel insecure is the
reason why we seem distraught. There is a balance in the world
between yes and no. Yes seems too certain and no seems too
final. The middle is where we wonder. We must examine our
internal forces to find answers. Our reactions leave us with a
dilemma of self-preservation. No matter our circumstances
there are inquiries as to why we remain unknown in this world.
How many times must we thirst for affection? Forever seems too
quick and yesterday seems too far. Because of right and wrong
we may begin to believe in a Higher Power to bring us relief.
The reaction from those beliefs creates a brilliance of intuition.
Our questions have been determined and our answers have
been revealed. What is the mystery of life anyways? The answer
lies in the depth of our existence. We must find the strength
to search beyond reasonable doubt to find explanations as to
why we were born. Understanding our convictions is the key
to such revelations. Our unknown convictions can become truly
unveiled if we just search intimately inside our belief in something
greater than ourselves. Therefore, we find the key of understanding
on why we have been created. The mystery lies in the answers.
The mystery lies in the questions. We have been created to live.
We have been created to feel. We have been created to love.
Answers have been found and life has been given.
Date Written: July 2, 2016
Categories:
misinterpretations, blessing, destiny, freedom, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Such an out languish word, LOVE used freely and giving; misinterpretations of something that can be beautiful. We all look for things, deep down it’s what we want, when we know it’s nothing but the dreams that plays in our heads; when your left fighting for something knowing it’s not what was needed in the first place.
So focused on the negative things and blinded we turn away from the bright side, we are alive, be thankful. Say what you believe; what about what you feel pouring a little of your soul in a situation that doesn’t deserve to have something so precious. Painful made thoughts turned into bitter feelings, turn into a bitter person not sure of what’s wanted or needed. Negative thoughts can’t be replaced with good intentions; good things are far from positive when the motive proves to be selfish. It’s all about what we believe in. How much we care for ourselves. Find your own confidence and be that better person.
It’s easier to tell the lies to feel accomplished when jealously grow like black roses in their garden full of misery ashamed of not wanting to know who you are. Continue your shameful thoughts; action does speak louder than any lies told. Wrongful actions becomes our greatest regret. Be truthful with yourself; learn personal love and maybe you won’t feel so bad about whatever it is that you’re dealing with.
Everyone goes through things it’s all about the maturity of handling those situations.
Continue to hide behind your wall of lies and scams that seem to work in your favor. It doesn’t last long. What was started in the beginning end with a few verses of your life? Isn’t and wasn’t worth reading. Learn to love you and yourself to grow to be the person you should be. Stop surrounding yourself with others that doesn’t know how to love when we deprive ourselves of our own love that we deserve.
Categories:
misinterpretations, change, emotions, feelings, how
Form:
Free verse
the silence of these
screaming profanities!
only the light rise
of my bosom,
fluttering erratically,
soon to die.
ever stinging ache within
ablaze, engulfing my torso.
my inner-thoughts, my betrayal,
weakness emanating from my
sweat!
my cold cruel heart,
shut off from that once
intoxicating
passion that consumed my soul.
bitterness now my old friend,
keeping me alive by torture!
was i ever a woman consumed
by passions, that lived depite
my murderous intent?
ever drowning in my lovers
arms,
this wall is built of bitter bricks.
My fortress, your all consuming
love.
i seek you not...
must endure a thousand paths
of torment and a thousand
paths, which have no end or
start.
my contentment lies in
masters of old, for thier
insanity is kindred to my own,
troubles of the mind.
never to recieve any sign, only
to grasp, on turn of a phrase, to
sustain thought of my
bloodsport of art.
on the brink of lunacy...
never ending craving to read
the word or phrase that
connects my strewn about dots.
barely sane to be sober...
cutting deep into my warped
inner being,
no one one can understand or
put meaning to my vague
scribblings.
I'm not profound, written for
an emotional stunt, the ever
poetic child.
climbing to scratch his mark on
forest tree.
long forgotten, the passion in
this dungeon of my coldest
construct.
now, know these tradegys
scribbled!
lines of self pity and contempt,
if such are true realities in my
backward and warped
misinterpretations.
fools who find the meaning,
never have scratched my
surface.
nice to think they they can be
sympathized when devoid of all
true compassions,
they lie to them and pretend to
get the deeper consciousness
born , immaculate, chosen by
celestial providence...
the passion, she's calling you,
has been a forced
joke, fit in.
but truth be ,told, you have
been destined for this auction
of your soul, piece by piece,
like a bleeding cutout heart,
this much be private
understood hopefully by you.
but your peers will give you
accolades and those can't bear
to like your work, simply cause
they havent reached you realm
yet.
words to wise; protect your
words, as your breath, it's all
you really have now; survival
Categories:
misinterpretations, introspection
Form:
Free verse
There is a whirling of color-
impressions and pulses of raw being-
-unidentifiable-
- intangible -
shards that wiggle and pulse
through a cortex of subconscious
just invisible to my knowing.
I am raw.
A sieve for the experiences I can not name.
A building of thunderclaps and swells.
Give me release.
Give me not this irrational deflection
twirling definitves with misinterpretations.
Give me acute sorrow, that I can name.
Give me the source of anger so I can rage-
let the fire burn to embers
and mourn the smoke that clouded my foresight.
Give me wisdom before I repeat all my errors.
Categories:
misinterpretations, anger, angst, anxiety,
Form:
Free verse
Artistic Integrity
squeamish questions abound
about the art of love,
impressionistic and commonly given
to misinterpretations,
but with gall declared;
“my art has hung with grandeur in halls never”
“my art been the conversation of royalty,
haughtily, but fleeting once”
“my art has been declared in periodicals,
none”
“my art has nary been spoken of”
on your walls abound
the integrity and depth
of an artist’s vision
Categories:
misinterpretations, art,
Form:
Free verse
The beginning is never the same by the end. There is just to much empty unknown in between the two.
The vastness consumes so many of us. The us that were all once innocent, naive, hopeful, and unaware. The us who were just trying to navigate through the empty.
Our conscious misinterpretations of the already misconstrued-ed lies thought to be truth no longer hold any relevance.
So many souls succumbed to the nothing, and became nothing. Hollowed eyes perpetually fixed on the apathetic empty.
Forever staring yet never again capable of seeing, for even our minds eye must have eternal light to glimpse our world within and the world just beyond.
Categories:
misinterpretations, deep, lost, poetry, world,
Form:
Free verse