Deviation Poems | Examples

Sonnet 20

I have seen and heard of love in another land!
A voice that made me and my mind feel at peace
So I must make my words come from my heart and lips by taking a stand!
The Destiny is a foreshadowing of our hearts coming to each other in a physical piece

True love begins with communication and continues with communication!
Our minds are floating with thoughts of alignment and deviation!
Even when there is confusion with our words, the love will not fall to miscommunication!
It will only be strengthened though our open faith and appreciation!

The past made us both appreciate one another through deep compassion and love
The future is not said but the present is creating it in a forever bliss!
No one can make us give the other a shove!
The present will not make our future lives become a miss

The taste of honey is only sweet when it is organic and pure
It is organic and pure which is made by the medicine to our heart as a cure!

Glowing Woman

She didn't shatter the glass ceilings,
she shattered the sky
and stars fell in her lap.
They barred her from science clubs
but she built her own constellations.

She arrived in Paris hungry for knowledge
fed herself with formulas
and ambition was satiated.
They gave her frostbitten ceilings
but she warmed them with equations.

She wasn't stuck by a Cupid's arrow
she steadied the bow
and hit the right heart.
They shared notebooks and moonlight
but she lost him to a wrong deviation.

She discovered a new glowing element,
covered herself with radiation
and lit up rooms for women.
They stood up for her at the Nobel ceremony,
but misogyny rewrote the citation.

Cognitive Siege

A fixture of grief,
anchored where memory splits.
The quest unfolds in fog—
no path, just pulses
of unease mimicking direction.

Every thought incurs penalty.
Fear taxes breath.
Dread rewrites the map
before the journey begins.

An unseen impact
knocks the axis off center—
consciousness spirals,
fractured, repeating.
Focus becomes a casualty.

There are voices,
but they speak only in sanctions.
No comment.
No deviation.
No witness.

Even breath becomes strategic—
withheld, rationed,
used to mask retreat.

I speak in silence now.
Each word I don't say
becomes another wound
I have to learn to live around.

In the whirlwind of time, who said that seconds are decreed

In the whirlwind of time, who said that seconds are decreed?
That your steps must align with others’ concrete success indeed,
That arrival is an unyielding mandate, and deviation a defect?
You see them climbing the spires of their creation without regret.
In iron and glass they carve their legacy, while you remain silent,
A shadow frozen in the ruins of dreams that never grew vibrant,
With hands weary from the burden of unfinished things,
You whisper to life's algorithm: "Recalculate, don't leave me behind!"
But time is no engineer, nor a gentle, loving architect,
It's just the scaffold beneath your feet, moving only when you dare to fly.
Did the monolith mourn it didn’t rise with the first light?
Or did the river curse its flow for not sculpting the world in a single moment?
You’re not behind; you’re just a separate code unfolding,
A unique sequence evolving and flying at its own rhythm,
In a story never meant to synchronize,
But to follow its own course, unchained by time and space.

Sticklers versus HippyDippys

The Sticklers are rule-followers; they do seventeen weekly have-tos.
There is no room for flexibility, or deviation from their parents’ teachings.
Have to go to church, read the Bible, pray daily, on their knees.
Have to go to grandma’s every Sunday, bring a pot roast, wash the dishes.
Have to read the Bible with grandma, aloud, as she corrects you.
There are so many have-to’s, there is no time to play, laugh, or sing.
Many of the Sticklers have gone crazy, are in mental institutions.

There are minimal have-to’s in their distant cousin, the Hippydippy’s lives.
They enjoy their weekends; doing what they want when they want.
Freedom to dance, sing, cartoon, paint, knit, crochet, color, fish or golf.
They know about the Bible, but they are not scheduled to it.
Grandma knows they love her, they see her when it is convenient.
She’s usually on a cruise anyway.
None of the Hippydippys have ever gone crazy.

She Cried

He took her there most days
They rowed out to his small yacht 
They sat and drank take away lattes
She just cried a lot….

She was so full of sadness
Tormented by relentless fear
So very troubled
Her mind clouded and unclear

She liked it on the river
It gave momentary relief 
Life seemed a little clearer 
Though be it only brief 

She saw them in the distance 
Hoped they would come her way
Unbelievably without deviation
They were there without delay

Swimming underneath the small yacht
In water so clear and blue  
So close they were touchable 
He cuddled her and said,
“This is just for you”

The dolphins swam away….again without deviation
A direct path into the open water
She knew in her heart those majestic creatures
Had sought her…

The emotions they evoked in her 
Mere words cannot describe 
With heart and mind now smiling 
She sipped her latte
And just cried….

Second Skin

I keep stepping outside myself
This deviation necessary
I always wanted to be someone else
I'm growing a second skin
Still me underneath but I've been cloaked in rage and grief
These scales are heavy
But I'll carry them
The world weighed on me before but nothing like the iron shackles this life has now become
Unbearable 
Still I carry on
I don't want to I have to this will always be the way the story goes watching my chapters unfold in front of me without even lifting my pen
I'll nod in agreement, I've willfully resigned
Settling for that second skin
It covers well and hides the empty
The smiles and laughs that are no longer mine but forced to find their way to my face
I'll put on a show for you
I'll sit beside myself in disbelief shaking the head of this shadow I've become
Watching the scales grow thicker
And you won't notice a thing

A Path Unknowable

A Path Unknowable

every thought we harbour
every choice we make 
can lead us on a journey
we’re not sure we should take

for roads in life are mostly
unknowing of journey’s end
and the merest deviation
another fork or bend

is always waiting somewhere 
as surely as the day
an impasse an uncertainty
a questioning of the way

though the pathways that we’re taking
may seem that they are fated
each decision is a conscious one
not randomly created

know the road you travel
has been walked upon before
by others who have passaged
seen what lies behind each door

wherever you may journey
to whatever you aspire
keep close all those who know your heart
safe haven when you tire

Wazza

Victim

Passion with the inept 
Virtuous to respect 
All wish to expect
As I walk to the valley of my own creation 
A mist forms to hide my deviation 
I frolic to my expectations 
And expect the best sensations
I will myself to feel wanting 
I stay still to feel I'm haunting
Can you see me? Can you hear me?
My suffering I'm flaunting 
The journey of life is daunting.
My ego's appetite wanting

MADE FOR LOVE

Created to love and be loved
Where love in it's purest is sacrificial above all things
Love seeks not its own interest but the interest of the other

But a deviation from the original design is the state of our state and the state of our mind
Everyone mindfully minding their business but business isn't possible without buyers and the sellers.
Men and women are now lovers of themselves 
As self is now the predominant denominator in every form of relationship that we seek.
But this wasn't the plan

For God so loved the world that those in the world may love
But when we love we love with expectations and sometimes expectations hurt.

We hurt and make hurt
We mare, destroy, pull-down till everyone down feels hurt.
But this wasn't the plan

In love with the world he gave son and the sun to light the world for the good and the bad
For love isn't complete without 
Patience, truthfulness and kindness 

And when love hurts, it forgives
For love was the original design
We were made to love and be loved.
For this was our original design

Sand

Sand
Miracle Man
3/18/2024

Sand appears to hotfoot through an hourglass,
unrelentingly depleting our precious time.
Without discernible deviation and no impasse,
plays no favorites betwixt aged and prime.



Life is not a “brief candle.” it is a splendid
torch that I want to make burn d torch as brightly
 as possible before handing it on to future generations. 
“Bernard Shaw”

A Truly Passionate Affair

Older I get the more love I possess
Busting down the walls of my heart
Invading the very depth of my soul
Can't survive when we two are apart

Special affair, hasn't happened before
In the history of this passionate man
Without a doubt the first time for me
A deviation in my life's master plan

Certainly wish the same for all
There's no greater feeling I've known
Always wake up with a great big smile
Coz all of my troubles have flown

Wish everybody could feel this joy
These feelings I've not felt before
Hard to survive each time we're apart
My faith in true love you've restored

The older I get, the more love I need
This strong craving never subsides
It's all that we humans live and die for
The passion that true love provides

Digging Graves Circa 1955

No mechanical diggers digging
Standard oblong shaped holes
The only effort needed being 
To manipulate the controls.
We dug our graves by hand
And the sweat of our brow
A craft that seems outdated
And no longer any use now.

Each grave was dug to
An Individual coffin’s shape
With an allowance made for
The handles and the rope
No deviation of the sides by
Even the slightest little bit
Ensuring each grave allowed 
An almost snug tailored fit.

Beating down the earth 
To compact the ground
So there was little shrinkage
Of a grave’s earthen mound,
The relaying of the turf
The floral tributes laid
Mourners final thoughts
Carefully displayed

We took pride in our work
Felt each family should expect
Their deceased loved one to be
Sent off with honour and respect.
No, no mechanical diggers 
Just a man’s strength and skill 
And a gathering of the villagers
To show support and goodwill.

The Older I Get

The older I get, the more love I possess
Busting down the walls of my heart
Invading the very depth of my soul
Can't survive when we two are apart

Special affair, hasn't happened
In the history of this passionate man
Without a doubt the first time for me
A deviation in my life's master plan

Certainly wish the same for you all
There's no greater feeling I've known
Always wake up with a great big smile
Coz all of my troubles have flown

Wish everybody could feel this joy
These feelings I've not felt before
Hard to survive each time we're apart
My faith in true love you've restored

The older I get, the more love I need
This strong craving never subsides
It's all that we humans live and die for
The passion that true love provides

The Labrador

If I wasn't there,
the rain swollen clouds
would have still dumped 
their dark weight over the bay
and through a gaping tear,
let down a curtain of sunlight
to start the day.

And if I wasn't there,
the old, arthritic labrador 
would have still waddled
along the street
with its bent but steady gait,
undistracted, self absorbed 
and fixed in its own stare
that allowed no deviation 
from years of devoted plod.

The morning had no need
for me, what happened
would have happened anyway.
There's an annoying sadness
in knowing the earth 
doesn't seem to care
if things pass unnoticed.
Sunsets and waterfalls
carry no favor. 
To it, the achingly beautiful 
and the catastrophic can
happily go unreported.

And yet I still ask -
what's the point -
and entertain the notion
that the universe has this
innate and unfathomable need
for a witness
to take in Creations 
unfolding riddle
and make it fit together.

I could be wrong,
but for each of us, 
the privilege of being here
on this gifted earth,
to understand, care for 
and tell its story in song
fulfills a purpose,
if only to this end -
or something more.

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