Deviating Poems | Examples

I Lost My Body

If I could go back in time,
I’d go back to when I believed in soulmates
the way I believe the stars in the night sky
guide us to a predetermined destiny.

Poorly illuminated by the moon,
leaving you to seek yourself intentionally.

Well, 
I’ve learned you can throw away fate
when you make an extremist choice,
deviating against that destiny.

Like salmon in the springtime,
we kill ourselves only to respawn,
and reinvent new regret
in search of things we think we need
but already possess.

Now, 
I don’t mean to come off as nihilistic or depressed,
but I’m slowly starting to stop believing in prepackaged outcomes,
and have come to the conclusion
that only children believe in soulmates.

At least I did when I was a kid.

Now I know for certain,
love only exists when it’s convenient,
and the stars, more often than not,
pick favorites.

Demonstrative dedication

Easy to entrance the sycophants watch their helpless dance their back and forth swaying and swooning, in cunnilingual somniloquence.
Droning and drooling with flattering and fawning, turgently swelling, spouting placating pleasantries, a mess of gushing adulation.
Self exultation, craving congratulation by consensus for another conventional  sensation, clamouring for congratulation in lurid inflated infatuation.
Curtailing castigation, striving in strides as pedestrian asperation gives rise to typical inspiration, stillted it saunters soulessly, provoking predicable platitudes.
Dreary dedication denoting the humdrum and the ho-hum, tirelessly tiring, offering effortlessly banal bestowments bequeathing a tepid tranquillising testimonial.
Uniform, unchanged, unilateral applause, amplifying abysmal analogies, articulating dearth depictions of derivative denotations.
Cryptic quips collapse carelessly caused by cumbersome correlating contradictions, deviating detrimentally forth fatuous flutterings.
Stale sentiment, sterile superfluous suppositions, garishly guilded in grandure,
Repetitious rudimentary ruminations, repackaged and retold.

CONCENTRATION

Concentrate
So you can penetrate
Through that concrete
Which are obstacles, denials and more
Into your concealed dreams or visions
Without deviating from your mission.

Focus and keep looking ahead 
So you don't loose guard 
Then fall back or resent
That's what a coward does
Relenting or forfeiting dreams.

Distraction is an enemy
That steals your glory
Gain victory over you 
If you ain't focus or curious 
So; concentrate on what's ahead of you
Concentrate on the necessities 
Forget about the naysayers 
People always have something to talk.

Far from home

Weekend clouds remind me of home
Deviating myself not to be alone
The sky during sunset turns pale
I fell into a loophole the day after.

Many hold you during the first breath
They will be there behind, watching you
Even moments with mates never fade,
You hope to have eternal time again.

Get the one-time opportunity to excel
Unleashing potential aligned with purpose
Unveiling fair play with the time I have
And make my purpose a mighty farewell.

Many surround you after the last breath
They will be there behind, watching you
Make the most of the time you will have
Make it glad as you left home with pride.

It Started With a Blank Canvas

How endearing the innocence of life was,
When blissfully it started, with a blank canvas,
Cherishing in mother’s love and warmth,
Happy as can be, cuddled in loving arms,
Flaunting vigor of adorable, zealous charm.

Life ran into hurdles as it learned to walk,
Stumbled, yet got up, after every fall,
Giggled and babbled, learning to talk;
And from gibberish, as cogent words formed,
How flawless, pure, beginning of life was!

Soon, as it donned unique shape and form,
Colors adorned fabric of once empty canvas,
In brushstrokes of inspiration and resolve,
Enlisting hope, amidst despairs of loss,
And beams of light upon tenebrous clouds.

On ambitions it thrived, braving passionately,
Yet, encountered unbearable abyss of grief
As doubt and dismay churned in defeats
And failures sprouted within complacency,
Deviating from path of purposeful deeds.

From inner peace, as wisdom vibes chimed,
Life freed from mundane, agitation of strife,
Triumphant when dreams and reality rhymed,
Questing for tranquility in eternity of time,
Retouching feats-unfinished on canvas of life.

Procrastination

I think big of a new day, 
With expectations on my way, 
Of being a better version,
Of what I was yesterday.

A new day begins, a few minutes pass
I hope for motivation to long last
But never does it happen, it's an ugly fact
My mind keeps on deviating from its actual track.

I spend a couple of hours
being absolutely unproductive
"I'll stop at the nth - hour"
That's a fake truth comforting

Watching pointless stuff on my phone
I have truly mastered
The art of wasting my time
It's an unpaid job where I've prospered.

But when asked about my productivity rate
by those relatives with whom you can never relate
I start panicking and create a whole mess
Of coming and going stories but still no progess.

I look back at myself,
the n - number of days wasted,
tears roll down my face, 
and my heart is full of regret.
That's when I realize, 
that I have a hard way to go, 
and so my journey begins, 
but just then something happens,
"A notification sound?" perhaps my best friend,
and I believe you have predicted what happens next, 
by now I have made this journey for more complexed, 
yet this cycle keeps on repeating itself.....

Cathexis

Psychic energy that is misspent on an idea, 
perhaps an object, and often on a person,
is referred to as a cathexis, an action 
to satisfy an urge or need that can worsen.

In his explored psychoanalytical theory 
of personality disorders, Sigmund Freud
theorized about this rather unhealthy drive 
in which a life can be hindered or destroyed.

He believed that psychic energy is found 
within the id, the ego, and the superego
The id directs a person's most basic needs,
deviating reality, but just how far will it go?

To satisfy the fanatic compulsion it craves 
it can throw someone's energy into disarray,
This personality disorder is totally cognitive,
borderline psychotic, leading the mind astray.

Ego cathexis is a median nature of narcissism
causing a break down of stored up emotions.
Anger may occur, irrational to say the least,
often filling the brain with devious notions.


May 9, 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 36 Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh

Nonconformist Idealist

A catholic priest from the Scottish highlands,
Scotus treaded a nonconformist philosophic path,
deviating from the high middle age mainstream,
for his doctrines of realistic beliefs he was maligned.

Digressing from the prevalent dualist tenet of his times,
he denied the distinction between essence and existence,
the abstract concept of living in monism perception
led him to propose the notion of univocity of being.

He countered the contention of divine illumination,
ensuring derivation of precise and pure knowledge,
in situations where the thinking process was fallible,
like the rejection of immaculate conception of Mary.

Proponent of metaphysical introspect contemplation,
for him theology was the practical science of God,
deciding the ultimate union of the liberated soul
with the divine trinity through love in the eternity.

________________

March 25, 2022
Contest : John Duns Scotus
Sponsored by : Joe Maverick

O I Ave Nothing To Declare W

I have nothing to declare

But my genius

To when it comes

To the friend's i choose
to keep me company
along my way

And steer me from deviating
from a righteous path and
a life well lead

And not into a self inflicted
head-on car crash or wrong
direction i was hell bound
on taking

And was destined to follow in and 
person become without their 
honesty and privy council

The gravits i so was in need of 
in order to keep my feet firmly
planted down on earthly ground

And my head out of the 
fluffy clouds enveloping me
thus far before they discovered
i

Intimate Friend

Anchor buried spurs ensure attachment
Hatches battoned down forbid intrusion 
Watertight twine form fidelity's augment 
Underpinning intimacy, disciplined union

Ashore in our two mortal trampled petals
Synchronisity sings in branchless canopy 
Rose vine vital blood throbs bloat vessels
Deviating tracks twist thorns into arteries

Wants collide on potpurri crackle pungent 
Reliant psyches quiet a cyclic voyage solo
Duo devoted woven dig sea floor plummet 
Adherence bouys forever's precious cargo 




         
           10th April

A Deviating Sound

Exception defines nothing
In wartime, is it not?

It is only the softer sound
Of a poem
The laughter of children...
Stories of old aged buddies...

A Deviating sound
From the norm.

Abstract Notions

With a resonating effect his warm 
breath breathes me in 
Within his gentle vibrations and 
unwavering discipline 
Treats me as a goddess taking 
note of my equations
Loving my lines never deviating 
from my smooth variations 
Inspiring my creativity allowing 
my determined mission 
Leaving apprehensions to be 
lost in perfect condition
Flowing with my curves 
caressing my contours 
Abstract notions becoming 
lifelike and obscure
Protecting our heavens celestial 
lights from above 
Experiencing every emotion in 
the name of love

10/24/2020

Transitional Autumn

the seasons always treated him with all kinds of rain shine and  storms

but he was never the fall guy and enjoyed deviating from dogma and norms


with fresh springs in his step he rebelled as if there was no future tomorrow

which brought him satisfaction and joy but also fierce rejection and sorrow


summer brought heated adjustment to society’s wishes and compromise

he sold out for a while became calmer but was still rather foolishly unwise


now he is in the autumn years of his life and calls for reflection and balance

but harmony still eludes his equilibrium and sometimes he drifts into trance


the rational mind fights with the emotional counterpart for solutions in vain 

does not always resolve differences and contradictions and leaves him in pain


but while his branches get brittle the roots shaky and leaves turn into fine dust

of winter composure with longer shadows he knows that all seasons need trust



12th September

Vintage Routes

If you know not where you are going, 
Any road will get you there; 
This is for the youth and the senile, 
Moving, yet reaching nowhere. 

But in ignorance lies debacle, 
And that becomes a burden to bear, 
For mankind still creates miracles, 
And the prowess to face all our fears. 

Rise, for the end is not forbidden, 
And this life is not our own; 
And the truth has never been hidden, 
Turns a king against his throne. 

The paths we must take may be vintage, 
So predict the future, recall the past, 
Submerging oneself in a distinct age
Is not surreal but will it ever last? 

One clan, one way, 
An ample chance to go astray, 
Deviating from, yet elevating too, 
Let the morrow be brought back to this day
For the past has passed and channeled through
The present routes; But how? 
Believe in your roots, the future is now. 

@POET_AY
©`20
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That About a Face

That About A Face

Previously responsible concerning an adolescent resplendent facial hallmark,
Awarded to privileges and sanctioned embellishment favoring enhancement,
Over time, years chip away unnoticeably o'er worn breathless moments,

Taunt texture of an arduous youth evaporates in a whimsical hallucination,
Face delicately immersed in a penny-filled wishing well made full by an Irish spring,
Whereby, encroaching four-leaf clovers anticipate deviating hands to favor,

For a wealth of squishing palms to rub gently the verdurous lucky
chartreuse petals,
Against foretelling fluctuating skin with moisturizing balms that saturates the aged cavities,
Alas, rebellious slaves to periodical moons ebb the epidermis as once kept promises reneges,

Former fields of the dermis yield a harvest worthy of an ample supply of suppleness o'er a lifetime,
Where cherished glorious heyday occupied a magnificent proffered face for cameras to envy,
In the advance of time, I am content to gracefully tender the waning years for a fair measured distance as a camera poses for a closeup. 

2019 December 22

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