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Best Chuck Keys Poems

Below are the all-time best Chuck Keys poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Chuck Keys Poem

Oneness

Oneness
                   Authored by Chuck Keys

It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.

There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.

Thinking multi-physically
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically 
It wasn't here or there and it was.

With no distinction, 
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.

It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.

In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.

The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."

Differences exist for differences, 
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.

DEDICATION:
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.  
www.gandhiking.ning.com


Details | Chuck Keys Poem

Gary's Yard Sale, the story

Gary's Yard Sale, the story
                                                  Authored by Chuck Keys

Among the rustbelt cities of yesterday,
Along the edges of the Detroit River,
A short distance to the side,
Resides a slice of Victorian times,
Excesses exceeded needed, 
Where age confronts time,
The day before meets the day of,
And greets tomorrow.

Those in the hood
And outside,
Meet and greet among 
The scraps of forgotten memories.
Lawns filled with bygones of size,
Tables filled with important somethings,
Maybe everythings,
For important that evolved into history.

Where memories become linked,
Each to a stored thought,
Treasured, pleasured or disdained,
To a person,
Of late or present,
To a future of who knows what.

During the day,
The history-of and the future-of talk,
To each,
Of where they were,
And where they hope to be,
The dust is blown off with the wind,
From the east, west, north and south.

The yard sale, the graveyard of the past,
The arena of the present,
Life and death of the sale,
Dance together, coupled,
Where Mine, becomes Yours' while
Gary the Conductor, orchestrates to perfection,
The operatic enjoyment of history,
Buyer meets seller, exchanges
Are made.  As is today.
Bravo! Bravo!

*This poem is dedicated to Gary and Ann Harris of Northville MI USA – May they and 
their Yard Sales age forever!

© Charles H Keys, 2010.  All Rights Reserved.  V1.4.09252010


Details | Chuck Keys Poem

An Unlimited Friend

An Unlimited Friend
                        Authored by Chuck Keys


She walks on words in flight
tainted with her beauty beyond delight
a destroyer she is not, a poet she is rare
friend and critic a pair always there.

Her words flow with love and flair
of life beyond repair, there to dare,
endless breadth encased in the heat of passion
of life and intensity beyond apprehension.

Her heart moves with so much of all she inhales
never filled always room for more for those in need.
To be her friend is soft and reciprocal
Never having to look, but always present and ready.
 
To swim in her arms of care, angelic and pure at heart
we talk with words that are silent, feelings unspoken,
not in our arms but together in thought,
sensed and deep, tender and mutual, inside us both without words,
a friend unlimited how lucky am I, sidney lee ann, Godbless to you.


Details | Chuck Keys Poem

Missing Teeth

Missing Teeth
                   Authored by Chuck Keys

a rainbow walked into my room
pretty enough to bloom
pink and purple with smiling missing 
teeth, happy as a butterfly cutely reminiscing

fulfilled deep brown eyes open wide sensitive
pensive and alert digesting the entirety of it all
innocently studying my face, yet with question
licking her lips, hungry in thought ...
reciprocal smiles signaling raceless acceptance 

blind to doubt, hate, and experience of time
wanting to thirst willing to trust without rage
demanding more giving more deserving more
she stands proud filled with sugary sweetness
youthfully contrasting my many years  

she calls me papa, i call her princess
missing teeth and all


Details | Chuck Keys Poem

The Stone Story

The Stone Story 
                         Authored by Chuck Keys

I was staring at a stone today,
it didn't move, it just sat, resting, 
relaxed in the warm mid-day sun.
The wind moved around it and it's lazy motionless nearby friends,
effortlessly. 

They all looked alike, 
maybe they were all family 
on vacation 
without a worry on their minds 
if they had minds.

They didn't or couldn't smile or frown, 
no beards or mustaches were visible, clean shaven.
They didn't look hungry or thirsty.
Of course how does a hungry or thirsty stone look?
I could have brought them water or food.

After much further intense thought,
I realized they don't have to worry about clothes
or lack of ...
Do they need clothes?  Do they need anything?
Nothing.  Nothing, is what they need.  

I am envious.



Details | Chuck Keys Poem

This is Mine, All Mine

This is Mine, All Mine                                     by Chuck Keys

Fall day, perfect, 
Sunny brisk alive.
Filtered rays of sunlight. 
Shimmering through semi barren trees
Almost skeletal 
Scattered blown leaves
Patiently waiting their first winter freeze, 
So - very serene, calm, barely a sound,
A bird or two chirping
Sounding lost,
Looking about ready.

There, a small sparse bush
Proudly showing a tiny new green innocent bud, 
Nonchalantly waiting about. 
His chance to grow, 
Fading with shortened cooler days coming
  
On the trail, my dog, 
At my front, back and
                                      … side, 
Protectively jumping, sniffing, flying, yelping
Majestically prancing about and over,
Manly pawing his ground, 
Feeling heat from 
The October daytime warmed earth
Dried decaying broken leaves of time fading,

     In motion, 
     Wind behind his gate,
     Cantering soundlessly but hard, manly 
     Racing airborne paws; 
     Panting with passion, drooling in chase,
     Soaring gleefully effortlessly in-flight,
                                                                       ... off the ground 
                                                                       ... leaping high, higher, highest 
     Endlessly into the wilderness, 
     On his ground.  His movements
                                                           … echoing, uncontrolled.

     The tamed beast; driven as ever,  
     Head locked rigid aimed forward, high, tongue draped aside out
     Eyes opened squinting into the wind, starring affront
     Nose twitching alive on fire in hunt, 
     Tail erect, straight as an arrow on 
     Legs in sync with one another, together
     Body pulsing as one, muscles taught,
     On guard, with pride and ownership.
     He stops, panting eyes piercing, 
                                                          … side to side, front to back
    "This is mine, all mine" ... he says
                                                           ... he says to his daddy. 


Details | Chuck Keys Poem

Sweet Passion

Sweet Passion    
            	
(This poem can be read from top to bottom and at the same time, side to side.)
					

days of grace                	  with form
moments in depth             	  nature in tune with time
greet her morning sunrise    	  evenings melt into mornings

days of love                 	  sweet candy
mothering and all          	  a passion of choice
embrace her totality         	  sweet sensual passion

days of strength             	  years to come
rule her life                	  ever there
protector of needy           	  lover of peace 

days of density              	  thick with soul
packed with goodness           a menu to consume
unstoppable power            	  too much to stop

days of beauty               	  natural
blissful with flowing        	  face of God
heart on her sleeve          	  hair of a Goddess 

days of tomorrows             	  forever tomorrows
brightly spoken              	  smiling with lust
intense expressed            	  side on inside	     wanting more



© Chuck Keys. All Rights Reserved 2010


Details | Chuck Keys Poem

My Chicken Adventure

My Chicken Adventure
                                 Authored by Chuck Keys


I found a chicken at my door
barely moving on the floor
kind of bony in and out
dirty stinky not proud nor stout

what brought him to my door today
with nothing in hand nor able to lay
I asked "where came you"
replied he  "a land away true"

I asked "friend or foe this fine day"
replied he, "I am here to dine n' stay"
another mouth to feed and care for
maybe I need to show him the door

thinking of dinner for myself, " hmm" said I
"should I eat the chicken with potatoes and peas?"
so happy and gleeful he smiled so free
Thinking maybe wouldn't be eaten by me

Hungry as I was, riled at my noisy uninvited guest
i looked at him, thinking, maybe he should be my quest.
Fried, baked, barbecued or soup?
He was destined to my food group.

I ate him.




Details | Chuck Keys Poem

The Aged Man

The Aged Man
                            Authored by Chuck Keys


There is a sadness inside of him,
Draped by layers of heartaches and disappointments,
Insulated with his long beard, thickly white eye brows, 
Unkempt brushy long dense white hair, 
Dry peeling cracked lips, slightly ajar, 
Showing his smoke stained chipped teeth,
Wearing a dark, soiled, bulky long scruffy ankle length coat, 
Two buttons were missing, 
With a 2" uneven tear at the bottom of its left side stained pocket,
A dirty powder-blue weathered wool and leather hat, with ear flaps down,
It was a long cold night, in mid-January, the month of his birth. 
He moves like a man covered with fear and age, and maybe hunger too.

Mornings and evenings are but doorways 
In and out of his leftover forgotten soul,
To the long endless days and nights, forlorn and grey.
He meanders about with a slow cautious gait, head down often times,
Eyes more closed than open, squinting even in the dark unlit night,
Torn gloved hands (with a large irregular frayed hole in the palm of the left),
Each hand fisted tightly for warmth,
Arms tightly at his side, stationary, not swaying, 
Protectively wrapping himself inside,
Or just holding himself, maybe for warmth or some unexplained reason.
His life is full, the years buried deep inside.

The pounding aches inside, remembers his early years, 
Ages ago, wrapped and protected inside his large family,
But never a part of it, not inside, 
Always outside searching, for what can't be found, ever.
His own family that slowly left him was remembered,
Material children today, groundless at best,
That have no memory of what was, 
Only what is or what will be.
Grandchildren that lacked life inside his hug.

The pounding aches inside; smirks, sometimes,
Knowing time and space, loving and giving, peace,
Remedy for all that ails.
He knows only what he knows,
He loved, loves and will always love.
Even alone, he is in joy, at peace. 

The old man walked into his last mile, a short while ago,
His slow cautious gait, one small step after another, and another,
As the gates opened, he turned and looked behind,
Frowned and smiled, 
With nothing left to say.


Details | Chuck Keys Poem

The Journey of Love

The Journey of Love
                               Authored by Chuck Keys    

Reading a poem of love I wonder,
what does a warm summer day feel, 
when it has no memory of the loss of
how its heat faded in time, ever so slow,
one tiny silent drip at a time, like a leaky faucet.
 
It comes to pass eventually,
knowing that time has digested the differences 
from what it was, 
to what it is and to what it will be. 
It is forever lost at this time.

A lonely somberness soon fills the void of the wonder and warmth, 
daylight ebbs and flows into darkness and soon loses its distinction. 
Loneliness follows and the love is non-retrievable,
without love, life is never the same ...
an endless emptiness follows and stays, lingering.


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