Long Turn a blind eye Poems

Long Turn a blind eye Poems. Below are the most popular long Turn a blind eye by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Turn a blind eye poems by poem length and keyword.


war machine

 the rich becomes the mighty power, 
they sit sheltered inside their ivory tower. 

we swallow all the lies, and start to believe 
as their machine spins it`s blinding feed
. 
their justification, to give a helping hand, 
to show freedom in another’s land. 

is it the good or the evil hand that showing 
as societies succumb, fall and left to lay dying. 

as the machine rolls towards total destruction 
the end result mans, malfunction. 

as the bloody battle rages on and on 
the truth must always remain, oh so strong 

all this destruction leaves the innocent to cry and grieve, 
as the rivers flow thick and red, with humanities leave. 

so we turn a blind eye to what was once civil 
the question we must ask 
                                 is this helping hand 
                                                                      good or evil
© Markus Jay  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Life Is Like a Pizza Pie

Your life is like a pizza pie, 
With wisdom you should long or yearn; 
It is not just a food to eat,
But also a lesson to learn.

With different sizes it is
Available just anywhere; 
When you leave your house to buy one, 
As you return it is a square.

Eager to see the bread inside, 
The package with care you handle; 
The moment you open the box,
What you have found is a circle.

It's so hard to turn a blind eye
To this tasty, delightful dough;
As you begin eating a piece, 
It's triangle, you ought to know.

Constant change is in the world,
From good reason to alibi; 
Your behavior improves in time, 
Your life is like a pizza pie.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Am I Supposed To

AM I SUPPOSED TO? 

Am I supposed to be getting something from all this heartache and pain? 

Am I supposed to drown myself in all this un-needed rain? 

Am I supposed to go insane or walk away with my head held high? 

Am I supposed to disc you now- Tell you, I love you and without you, I would surely die? 


Am I supposed to walk away and not look back- or- 

Am I supposed to continue to take your opposition? 

Am I supposed to take you back into my arms- and not care- for all you have done? 

Am I supposed to tell you nothing else matters- but you and me? 

And without you, I would surely cry- 

Am I supposed to turn a blind eye and pretend everything is all right? 

Am I supposed to continue to welcome the heartache and strife? 


Am I supposed to take my heart, lock it away; with the hope that someone honest and loving will find it one day? 

Am I supposed to hibernate until that time arrives? 

Through the storms- through the sunshine- through the nights- and all through the morns- 

Am I to listen to more of your lies- to your solemn promise- to your alibis? 

-OR- 

Am I supposed to learn something from all of this? 

Take it to my bosom, store it for future use- 

So, one day, I may know true happiness- Am I?
Form: Other

Parallel Universe

They talk to me… I take no interest
For I like not their likes…
When I talk to them--- about angels, and heavens,
And about life, magic and things I like
They listen not
And the boasters, like parrots
Start praising their minds…
And talk of trivial things
Like brands, latest fashion, new model cars and their favorite cigarette

They seems impressed of themselves
And tell me in hidden words, how better they are  than I
For they understand the world and know life's art
I smile on their faces, but laugh at them in my heart…

They know not the truth of life
Or they ignore the cry of Truth
And turn a blind Eye towards the Reality 

Or may be it’s a parallel universe 
they are living in
In my world, Moon has strains
And flowers wilt young

kids play with the debris of their wrecked houses
Mothers bury the empty coffins of their dead sons
Sons wait for their murdered fathers to bring them food
And dughters wipe mothers' tears with their torn clothes

How can I celebrate this life...?? 
They do...
They must have got a different world 


(~Paghunda)

Missing It

While the world unravels
and people turn a blind eye;
Clearly the reasons for despondency
cant be denied.
Thievery and greed, broken hearts
and unrighteous wars;
Has left the world oozing
in unhealable sores.
We think we are leaving our mark
when really its just a stain;
Its no wonder God looks down
on his own creation with disdain.
They say its appointed man once to live
and only once to die;
Then we will clearly see what we look like
mirrored in God's eyes.
Perhaps then we will truly see ourselves
as a creation in disgrace;
And realize when we had the chance
we should have accepted his grace.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member To the Lifegiver

You’ve given me another year
365 blank pages
To fill up
I know that your ultimate desire
Is for me to fill them in ways
That are according to your will
And that bring you joy
And that make your divine face
Break out into a smile
Of approval and love
That lights up the universe!

I know that I’ve lost the plot
This last year
I haven’t followed the plan
And I’ve wounded you
With things I’ve said
Things I’ve done
Things you wanted me to do
That I’ve left undone
The things I’ve thought
And yes, Lord
The things I’ve written
My unruly and rebellious heart
Grieving your heart of infinite love

You’ve given me life
All the days I live
Are written in your book
Before one of them came to be
You also know
When I will breathe my last
And rest in your arms

And yet….you grant me life
And you keep this heart beating
And this soul breathing
Giving me chances to get it right
Not the call to obedience
Though that is important
But the giving of my heart
And all that I am
Wholeheartedly…
Without reservations
That’s what you want
For me to get right because….
Once that is in place
All the rest follows

I know, Lord
I know…
I am grateful
For this gift you’ve granted me
This birthday I’ve celebrated
I’m grateful that you wink
And turn a blind eye
To many of the things I do
For you remember my frame
And know that I am dust
You know…as high as the heavens are above the earth
Your thoughts are than mine
And so…you are patient
And loving
And devoted to me

You wait
And you long
And you reach out to me
Granting me more days
So that you can recreate me
The way I’m meant to be
More years
To get it right
Because in the end
This life that I live
Is just a breath
I’m a flower
Blooming today
Withering tomorrow
But you want me to be
A forever flower
Resplendid in glory
Blooming for eternity
And that’s why
That’s why
You’ve granted me 
Another year
Another chance
To love you!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

*I've used several Bible texts in this poem. I haven't given references, nor have I used quotation marks because I've paraphrased, but I do want to give due credit to His Word...which is a revelation of who He is! :)

Premium Member A Firing

As your immediate boss and superior
It behoves me to have to inform you
Your services are no longer required
A formal letter of termination will ensue!

It has nothing to do with performance
You've really done an admirable job
Believe me, I've tried hard to ignore them
The rumours from everyone's gob!

You've stepped over the line, my friend
With this affair that has people talking
Each time you walk through the office
Sure you've noticed people gawking

I've tried really hard to turn a blind eye
And attempted to keep it hush hush
But now I just can't ignore it anymore
I'm beginning to turn into a lush!

Normally it's not a reason for dismissal
But you've caused me to endure such strife
That I must consider this a special case
Coz the partner in this affair is my wife!

© Jack Ellison 2012
Form: Quatrain

Entry?

Entry?

We used to post, “No Mexicans, Blacks or Dogs allowed”

No entry allowed. 

There’s some semblance of ease and acceptance now, but don’t remind of us of what we turn a blind eye to.

No entry allowed. 

It’s curious to see the extent of empathy; to oneself, to family, to friends, to the beliefs that hold up our mental constructs. 

We run away from the threats to our convenience & comfort.

No entry allowed. 

We can justify our disdain, given the stress and pressure of life. Yet, no matter how numb we are, love and empathy will always permeate into our beings, exhuming the hate that kills our joy of life.


So,
No entry to you, hate.
No entry to you, fear.
No entry to you, doubt. 
No entry to you, panic. 
No entry to the anger that quells humanity.

Who's Fault Is It

God speaks as conscience;
childlike innocence.
When we disobey,
soul’s blue skies turn grey.
The ever changing moods of a soul that longs to be free 
can be varied and vast like an ocean's fluctuate artistry 
So often we lose the hearing of the young 
replacing it with stubborn ears of old that refuse to believe 
Having stared at grey skies for a lifetime we no longer 
sheen the Faith of our forefathers ; 
We never turn the finger nor blame the culprit  
for the turning of events 
we turn a blind eye to our past actions 
the ones that have led us astray;  
God speaks as conscience but sometimes 
we interpret His voice any which way we please 
when soul's blue skies turn grey, 
whos fault is it anyway !

Betrayed by our hand,
life’s barren and bland,
until we awake;
dark desires forsake.
Engulfed in the carnage desires of flesh and wanton beat 
we lose sight of the glorious pregnant gardens of our youth 
Slighting beauty we abuse of the God given gift of choice  
we opt for a barren and bland life of repetitive fractal sins; 
Betrayed by our own hand we have no recourse 
until we awaken to the calling of an Arching blessing;  
Then we move into a colored world full of bright nuances,  
where everyone can see that we have finally understood 
the true meaning of being fully awakened by the Spirit. 
Amen !

Premium Member Under the Overpass

wings could drive you crazy
under the overpass, the crows
gather one by one, flapping
it is a perfect day, stuck underneath
where cars borrow the bird’s view
without a whisper or toll, torrent
of landings to complete the murder
the row, on an inner ledge, legible
perhaps eligible to a mate, could be
a male society or female offering
we who pass so quickly, only stopping
for a light or traffic jamming, see
what flies in the dark, in the face
we are the ones out of place
the fury of the flock, frenetics
relics, energetic, spot on sketchy
do they see some of the same old
cars? do they care or turn a blind eye
i haven’t forgotten but what does it matter?
it does because a poetic fuse ensues
and must in the end die out, forgotten
except by the rear end reader
who will extend the imagery for a blink
or think a deja vu when flocking with crows
in trees, on lines, under the overpass

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace