Long Deflect Poems
Long Deflect Poems. Below are the most popular long Deflect by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deflect poems by poem length and keyword.
As knights dressed in the Prince's armor
we ready ourselves for battle against the forces of the prince of darkness.
We fortify the borders of our country -
ready to defend and attack!
Our hands are strengthened by double edged swords,
created by the Prince Himself.
Our armor is made with the finest and strongest metal,
shining brightly for all to see.
Our shields are powerful enough to deflect any blow.
United we stand against our enemy,
impenetrable against all blows.
We rise and march as one,
in the Name of our Prince of Light -
and His Father, our King, -
conquering the forces of darkness
and expanding our borderlines
until His Kingdom will reign over all the earth.
Form:
It comes whisking in when least expected,
Its steps silent, its grip too cold.
It slips through cracks, unseen and unchecked,
No whistle blown, no stories told.
Whether the doors are opened or locked,
It doesn't knock to take its due.
Whether the windows are open or closed,
It cares not for the clear sky or view.
It will one day meet us all, face to face,
Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow.
It visits only at its chosen time, regardless of place,
Carrying both peace and sorrow.
May the heavens be pleased when the last breath is drawn,
For it is a phantom force we can never deflect.
Is war coming? Are we headed for another crazy cataclysm?
My sons, draft age. Only now can I appreciate the pain
so sharp it drains the color from one's eyes, your reason
for living gone in a spasm of violence to be forgotten
never by survivors. This fear could become real as no movie
is surreal enough to distract attention from the certainty
you did not do enough to deflect man's trajectory.
All could be well in the end but history portends
a periodic bloodletting followed by a quietus
without mercy. What's the best that can be said:
he died beside his friends and buddies. Steady
on to your own inquest and rest. A perfect rest
that improves upon the inadequacy of your efforts.
What solace can be found in the remains of marriage.
So you better fight back now even if that means
war comes sooner. At least you're fighting back, but how?
Take a minute to meditate on purpose. Science
cannot save you, neither can religion. Abstaining
from violence with love, letting prisoners go, detaining
no one at the border, inviting Chinese and Russian
scientists to our shores, defusing your own anger before it detonates,
none may be enough to save your sons.
A war president needs war, whatever. A trained
and deadly warfighter. You become what history wants
you to become. You survive if you're lucky, if not
so what, your old parents will be alive only briefly to mourn.
Then they too go to their good graves and the pain dies down.
In the meantime a new generation builds a new space station.
Since the vortex will be sucking up the poor,
let's not let the rich escape untouched. All go down
together, no one hoards gold or gets away with fiction.
If we have to fight let's make sure we fight as one,
the sons of the rich side by side with the poor's sons
and their daughters. You want slaughter? Then
let every city and back road know the new order.
I would rather watch Lalaland ten times over than have
to write this poem. I can leave home and live
in a tent or bunkhouse, eat dinner out of a tin cup
and drink water from a wooden bowl, give up
music and most of my memories to save my sons,
to save the world and avoid this war.
But that rarely happens. One is lost and found in what happens.
Be satisfied with who you are.
Improve on what you can,
But never think you have to be,
Just like some other man;
For no one's perfect, no not one.
Everyone has faults,
Skeletons they try to keep,
Hidden in mental vaults.
Though they will point out other's faults,
And bring them to the light,
For all to hear and all to see,
Their own they hide in fright;
In abject fear that they'll be known,
For shameful words and deeds,
That they regret so they deflect,
Attention to your misdeeds.
Be the best YOU you can be,
Don't emulate another.
You are YOU and that's enough,
You cannot be your brother.
Don't try to be like other men.
To thine own self be true;
For nowhere else in all the world,
Is there another YOU.
Compartment
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written by:
Nel F. Corretto
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Prompt and Topic
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A Mezzo Soprano is described as a meddler
the play write is engaged in creating her character
Research helps create the Character so that the actress can
execute with flawless detail
(Managing their access to your private life...The Meddler
interferes and interrupts the affairs of others wishing to avoid accountability
,or deflect blame when their uninvited interference causes conflict)
In Contrast:The complete opposite of a meddler is someone
who is unobtrusive, uninterested in the affairs of others
and practices the hands-off approach of minding their own business.
A classic dramatic arc that dictates the flow of acts
These storytelling milestones propel the narrative
from exposition to a defining climax
setting firm boundaries is your best course of action
managing their access to your private life is
essential to maintaining your peace of mind.
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specialty
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The Soprano and the Baritone are in a relationship
the The Mezzo Soprano begans meddling into the affairs
of the Soprano, while the Baritone is caught in the middle
Thinking it's his part to keep things calm he begins
to have an affair with the very attractive Mezzo Soprano.
While in the midst of this an affair develops and two women
find themselves in opposition of one another
the Male Character finds the attention great for his ego
but realises the drama is to intense for him he finds
comfort in another who agrees to marry him
" to calm the shores of unrest"
."Non è finita finché non canta la donna grassa"
The Soprano engages again to become pregnant and stop
the pending marriage.
I liked you even before you got a girlfriend,
And somehow that's so much worse.
Because it's not just that you didn't want anybody
No, it's that I chose you and you chose her.
You wanted a relationship; you wanted a girl, just not me.
But I'll continue to like you even if you never break up,
Because that's how my heart works.
Stuck on the person I'm not allowed to love.
As much as I love you, we can never be.
I will lie, deflect, and pretend even if it suffocates me daily.
Because she will always be better for you compared to me,
I tell myself before I fall asleep or my brain will dream about the we that we could be.
I won’t say I hate you, I can’t.
I can’t say I love you, I won’t.
What I will say is,
If you only knew,
If you only knew how much pain, you’ve put me through.
If you knew how many times I’ve cried thinking of you.
Wanting and wanting to make our love story come true.
Knowing I will never be allowed to love and be loved by you.
Crying for hours, sick and tired.
Her, her, her, it echos inside my head.
I cry because the words “I love you” will never transpire.
“I don’t love him” I tell. No, I lie to myself while in bed.
I know I deserve more than the scraps I get right now,
But I can’t imagine my life without you,
And that desperate part inside of wonders, maybe we could work it out?
Because you know my moods, my hobbies and the real me, the one only a few do.
Maybe,
Oh, maybe,
One day.
Just maybe.
We could love.
Maybe,
Oh, maybe.
it happened every fourth
sitting in the crowd
listening to their escaping excitement
a sky ablaze in pyrotechnics
some Pollock at last set free
from its boring existence
looking at you lost in it all
a face i know so well
finding myself amidst this mayhem
unable to deflect my gaze
from you
as the cacophony holds
delights fill your face
i am waiting patiently
for that moment
when you look down at me
that Duchenne smile emerges
life has a no deeper meaning
then when the depth and breadth
of your heart says in a smile
i am in love with you
we are destiny dancing across galaxies
a love only a universe could hold
a quantum entanglement insouciant
of space and time, infinity dissipated in ecstasy
that is the part i miss so much
that adorable quizzical look
explain that to me again
OKC 3/22
Light-blind, we stumble onto stage,
Our role is drafted by the unknown gods;
We search for meaning on the scripted page,
Our life’s beginning from director’s nods.
Our end may come before we come of age;
We long to leave mankind a true message.
We know not when we come or when we go,
Yet life is ours to hide from or to know.
Light-blind, we enter from the wing,
Our lines we speak with hushed anticipation.
We seek to be among the stars who sing,
To choose with whom we share participation.
But blind men only walk with those who ring
And grasp the tattered lengths of saving string.
We know not when our words will speak our truth,
The song depends on hearts to hear its proof.
Light-blind, we’re pulled from parts we play
To roles we would not seek to play a part;
We wait then, for the gods to find a way
To place or not to place us back at start.
We look for day to end; to shadows lay;
For lights to dim the stage, deflect our lives
And offer us an exit from all strife.
Anew
All at once it all was shattered
All was shaken up and crushed
Love became a misconception
Thoughts and feelings were all rushed
Pain and sadness start to battle
Disbelief has joined in too
Trust refuses to be present
Prudence knows not what to do
And the chaos is confronting
It’s confusion at its best
I could use some consolation
Just to put my mind to rest
But the doubt was set in motion
And the hurt is creeping in
My self-image is now crumbling
Let the hating now begin!
All these feelings and emotions
One by one they take their toll
I am losing my composure
I must now decide my goal
I will hear of no forgiving
I want vengeance out of spite
There’s no use for conversation
I refuse to reunite
But the heart can not be trusted
Even though there was a pact
Made by reasoning and feelings
In the end one will deflect
And the storm will start abating
Suddenly the air will clear
As I walk amidst the rubble
I find things that I hold dear
So I pick up all the pieces
And I find not just a few
All of this gives me the courage
To forgive and start anew.
Wendy Nipas
The Strength of Truly Gentle Men
Who wouldst decry such chivalry
deny the outspread cloak, the proffered hand,
plod through puddled mud, drag silken train,
in smug reproach of such a gentle man.
Hast all the glow been scrubbed from humankind
till every gesture – weighed - is found to lack
the power to deflect cold sightless eyes
from barren search o’erlooking all but self.
Should we, in vain reproach withdraw the cloak,
splash also in the muddled, mindless muck
that passes as the futures promised hope -
wash - Pilate-like - the stain from outstretched hands
Lest the cloak be tainted by history’s tarnished brush
and denied the strength of truly gentle men.
John G. Lawless
11/30/2014