Best Blissful Ignorance Poems
Those were my green and salad days,
a time of innocence and play, where
marbles shone like pearls and
every trinket was a treasure.
The world was simple, a canvas of pure joy
school, home, and the familiar corners of my aunt's house
were the boundaries of my kingdom.
I was a prince, carefree and unburdened,
unaware of the complexities that lay beyond.
My father, the silent architect of my happiness,
waged wars against invisible foes,
his struggles hidden behind a veil of stoicism.
I floated through those days,
buoyed by blissful ignorance,
until a stark awakening came.
It was etched into my memory,
a moment as indelible as an inscription on copper
the day he sold his wedding watch to pay for my education.
For the first time,
I felt the sting of tears for another's sacrifice.
It was a profound shift,
a departure from the self-centred orbit of childhood.
Emotions painted the moment in vivid hues,
a portrait of empathy and maturity
emerging from the canvas of my youth.
For a poetry contest, inspired by a memory.
©15/09/2014
wearing
blinders we don't see the big picture clearly
we remain lost in a blinding pogonip
never finding our way out
of its dense, misty blanket
akin to
looking at the world
with jaundiced eyes, especially when the world
is no
clearer than
besmirched lens
keeping us from entertaining
novel ideas, seeing
situations from another perspective
such close-mindedness
does beget cynicism in
the final analysis
a celebration of blissful ignorance
to see things
as they are
we must stay awake and keep our eyes open.
Suzette Prime Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Syllable count: 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, etc PLUS a philosophical statement
Date written: 01/28/2021
Starless night, a fire ahead
upon a wind sheltered hill.
Drizzling rain and steamy breath,
I feel the yearning for you.
Lighted by the flickering shine
you seem to be nameless to me.
But your words, your versant vein
recall the charm of the past.
Like a swallow in fall,
untamed and wild,
you’ve vanished silently.
Your cold, weary eyes
have lost their bright glow
of periods elapsed too fast.
Love of life, my friend, come back to me,
spread your wings and carry me home.
To consoling shores, and healing refuges,
till my heaven's starry again.
Wandering through a twisted maze
in search of where I belong.
Deep beneath the outer coat
I’m all confounded and lost.
I may count the stars by night,
but they don't look out on me.
I may walk a million miles,
but life is not coming forth.
Like a swallow in fall,
untamed and wild,
you’ve vanished silently.
Your tedious glance,
your meaningless look
are saddening me deep inside.
Love of life, my friend, come back to me,
spread your wings and lead me along.
To uncharted soils, beyond cumbering bounds,
till my heaven's starry again.
By and by my life
got a dreary taste.
Childlike magic disappeared
and sternness began.
Elusive confidence,
blissful ignorance,
peaceful mindlessness,
defeated and buried in pain.
I couldn’t resist
Love of life, my friend, come back to me,
spread your wings and teach me to fly.
To salvation’s dawn, beyond crumbling walls,
till my heaven's starry again.
I come bearing a rare gift,
not something of material wealth
No silver, no gold ...
no diamonds, no pearls
No bearer bonds, no dollar bills ...
no rubies, no emeralds
I come with an even more desired thing,
the most precious offering someone can bring
I come with wisdom supreme
Accept what you want,
reject what you will
But know this:
Knowledge has a steep cost,
are you willing to pay the bill?
Your mind will learn of terrifying things
that will produce horrific outcomes
You will witness the apocalyptic path the future portends:
Inventions of destruction;
exponential scientific and economic growth;
enormous mass food production
Bringing to life policies of starvation and oppression,
curtailing liberty with freedom of speech suppression
Are you now willing to inherit the foreknowledge of the end?
Promises given of a life secured
in blissful ignorance of raging wars
No tolerance of religion allowed,
no mention henceforth of the name of God
The masses will be culled with a technological rod
This is the cost of knowledge you will come to know
Reject what you want,
accept what you will
Knowledge has a steep cost,
are you willing to pay the bill?
Although this gift is free,
the cost of having it
will burden your soul heavily
This is the cost of knowledge you will come to know
Accept what you want,
reject what you will
Knowledge has a steep cost,
are you willing to pay the bill?
This is knowledge some would die for,
and some would even dare to kill
Are you soul sure you're
willing to accept due payment of this bill?
CHRISTMAS AT THE CUCKOO'S NEST
Of all the holidays that come and go
Christmas is the one that we love best.
No matter how crazy, it just goes to show
we love the yuletide in the cuckoo’s nest.
We deck the halls with scat, and shirts
and wait for Santa all month long.
Cause when we catch him he is gonna get hurt
but we all love to sing Christmas songs.
Singing carols just fills up the hollow void
left by those who were able to forget me.
It does not help that they call me paranoid,
I sing “Santa Claus is Coming…to get me.”
The dark end of the year makes us feel pessimistic
so we gather to sing Yule songs round the tree.
Like all of those diagnosed narcissistic
singing “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing … About Me.”
We try to stay busy, doing brisk calisthenics
and writing letters home to those who are so dear
and singing along with the many schizophrenics
asking musically “Do You Hear What I Hear?”
Guys with sexual identity crisis, playing on the recorder
for pyromaniacs constantly re-lighting their cigar.
and because they have multiple personality disorder
singing “We Three Queens Disoriented Are.”
We hung Holly because we heard we were supposed to,
but she went home, so we hung her in absentia.
“I’ll be home for Christmas”, but if I’m overdue
it will be because of my senile dementia.
The patients who are manic insist on decorating the walls.
Which I guess is better than being withdrawn,
except that they are always wanting to “Deck the Halls
and the Office, and the Beds, and the Staff and the Lawn…”
Christmas is depressing, even to those on the outside,
and the long dark days don’t bring spirits any higher.
But I've had enough of the many suicides
singing “Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire.”
“I Look Like a Hippopotamus for Christmas” is a tune
that always gets sung by the anorexics,
and we hear “Tables in Boyland” every day around noon
as it gets mangled by the many dyslexics.
We may be crazy, we might be weird,
but none of us think Christmas is for fools.
In our blissful ignorance we are sometime feared,
but we still wish you all a very cool Yule!
When we silence the noise, of our electric clock
wake-up, turn on lights, and our coffee pot
Should we feel shame, for what we have done
or in blissful ignorance, greet the morning sun
millions of people perform this ritual everyday
Without thought of consequence, just time saved
Some men, wives and children seek only to survive
others use time to plunder and destroy all alive
The path of life's maze fixed by our choices in life
nescient of truth, all choice will lead us to strife
Kept weak, hopeless, fearful, no query is raised
Is it apathy or a delusion, men take to their grave
dregs of the waste, have defiled air, sea and sand
befouled Gods heaven, killing both plant and man
A priority, we created, pillaged humanity on earth
Pantology repressed, only to seed arrogance not mirth
The people's voices muted, because of some men's greed
but, questions persist, and now we all must take heed
I am only a farmer, tasked with planting some seed
as a caretaker of land, my life is to cultivate and weed
An estimate, of 60 years needed to decontaminate the land
What men built, planting their nuclear seed in the sand
Take time to think, talk and inquire of all that is planned
Please put, a pen to paper, instead of heads in the sand
The future life of plants, animals and the humanity of men
Rests in The Peoples Voices and Words from their pen
We could remain in wonder
hold the hand of mystery
rely on what we know
but believe whats not to see
We can keep our blissful ignorance
and hold a sense of pride
but as clocks turn corners
will our ignorance have died?
And as we lay awake at night
whats to know inside?
and walking through our valleys
for what do we have to fight?
they say that there's a dance hall
right beneath this lake of sawdust
where underwater towns
have gone astray
and I can hear the harpies
the bagpipes
and I can smell
the burning petals
after we set the house ablaze
the blissful ignorance
of ghosts and revolvers
is pure nonsene
– as coup d'état of yours
still smiling distantly
but one day your goodness
will make you lipless, my dear
and then I will lull you by
the misty weather
verdant
fragrant
lucidly mystical
dazzling as a bell jar glance
existence matters – ad interim
and as the old gatekeeper
uses his trembling gestures
to swing the pendulum
tell me, my plain-hearted one:
ruby red or beryl blue?
does it really matter to you?
with all your childish devotion
please release
the drones
'cause thou art lost
and love is the law
love under will
…There, but for the grace of God go I…
Is a thought I oft used to think
As I cast a hasty, judgmental eye
Roundabout the coffee shop
And o’er the brim of my morning drink
…I used to judge those so-called ‘sorry souls
And ascribe to them sad histories
In blissful ignorance that
Some were likely looking back
And doing the same to me
…Yet with a superior sense of satisfaction
Would I sip my McDonald’s morning brew
Until some hapless soul would draw my attraction
Ah yes…this sorry soul will do
…I would focus in and build upon
My narrative about this sorry soul
Whose life seemed sad and almost gone
Down into life’s rabbit hole
…Oh the trials and ordeals
That this man must daily feel
The sting of outrageous misfortune
That Fate of late has shared with him
More than his fair portion
…Alas my coffee is quaffed
My imaginative narrative done
I’ll likely see this man (my star) no more
And I wonder who the morrow’s
Protagonist will be
As I walk out through the door
…Tomorrow will dawn a brand new day
I’ll sip my Senior brew and sigh
Select a new star for my newest play
(I think I shall title this one like all the others)
…“There but for the grace of God go I…”
…
Within cries decreed with shadows mourning
Mortal sin translucent through eyes scorning
Brewing storms amidst silent atramental abyss
Accruing waves breathed loves lingering kiss
Minds melting transfixed thru ravaging ruins
Blinds building walls amongst cerebral fluids
Demonic seeds with remorseful ruling hands
Chronic dementia within bloodstained sands
Temptations afloat amidst sinking verbal voids
Frustrations colliding of inner spacing asteroids
Ignorance blissful with hemispheres declining
Innocence destroying within minds confining
Illusions manifesting with tribal ritual intentions
Extrusions of thoughts entwined with abstentions
Tumultuous seas of marauding cores deepening
Tempestuous squalls landing ashore secreting.
...a BDHR-[backward double helix reversible]
Mourning shadows with decreed cries within
Scorning eyes through translucent mortal sin
Abyss atramental silent amidst storms brewing
Kiss lingering loves breathed waves accruing
Ruins ravaging thru transfixed melting minds
Fluids cerebral amongst walls building blinds
Hands ruling remorseful with seeds demonic
Sands stained blood within dementia chronic
Voids verbal sinking amidst afloat temptations
Asteroids spacing inner of colliding frustrations
Declining hemispheres with blissful ignorance
Confining minds within destroying innocence
Intentions ritual tribal with manifesting illusions
Abstentions with entwined thoughts of extrusions
Deepening cores marauding of seas tumultuous
Secreting ashore landing squalls tempestuous.
Oct.09.2018
Soap Opera Titles Poetry..."The Secret Storm"
Sponsored by: Sian St. John
N/A for contest
Jesus says that we all must become like little children
before we can enter the kingdom of heaven.
In theory it does make a lot of sense,
but how can one regress back to a state of childhood blissful ignorance
and become unaware of all we know that stole our innocence.
Our gardeners planted seeds in a box
And got a garden.
They watered that garden
And got an orchard.
They cultivated that orchard,
And got a forest.
A forest of beautiful men and women,
Of all walks of life.
Some tall, some short,
Some light, some dark,
Some fruitful and generous,
Others austere.
But through all the toil,
The gardeners,the cultivators
Continued to prune,
To refine even the smallest of trees.
Like a mother and child
Even when things got tough
Like overtime with no pay,
They got their reward.
They got their fruitage
From the very garden they watered,
The very orchard they cultivated.
We have been given a foundation
To build upon
And we took to it.
Sank our roots deep
And stretched our leaves high.
Foundations that will not crumble
When exposed to the elements.
Nor will they give out
In times of need.
We remember it like it was yesterday
We were fresh seeds in gilded soil
Ready to take on the world
With smiling masks on our faces.
But within an unseen struggle commenced.
A battle to separate the wheat from the weeds
The men from the mice.
The runners from the crawlers.
To prove that we have what it takes
To hold our own and emerge
From the darkness of virgin minds
And blissful ignorance.
So here we are - the wheat,
The men and women,
Ready to walk out that door
And become your tomorrow.
Separately, we cannot cause a ripple,
But together, we can move the world.
My eternal soul
sizzling out of Heaven
wandering somewhere
Blissful ignorance
Fairy tale world plays onward
Truth is forgotten
Hidden behind books
daydreaming these words come true
Waiting for true love
God's life lesson
found in his reflection
that he created in his image
was to learn never to discard or disregard the importance
or love he had for any of his creation
but to improve on them in every way
the meaning of life
love
fate
time
destiny
mankind
and life itself
He did this to surprise himself
and enjoy humbling himself for his creations
a planet and a heaven that does so for him
Living an everlasting life
where that he was the first to live
and the last to die
This lesson had to be learned prior to allowing his creations
to be by his side in eternal life
The meaning of life
and the angel of death
helped him learn what he needed to discover
to become flawless at this
The meaning of life
surrendered to a task of living a lie
becoming a false prophet whom would eventually sort this out
ask god for forgiveness
for being carried away in his selfrighteous lies and denial
of being loved by his creator
being a non believer of his maker
who had created something god placed above himself
god chose to forget himself
so this life lesson would be easier for him to realise
Thus god was inevitably going to be succesful
in this demonstation of forgiveness upon his creations and himself
to understand his new awareness
of a plan that he had for himself
to achieve a higher experience of eternal love
The meaning of life living a lie
to keep the everyone in blissful ignorance
of god's temporary weakness
and that was when the angel of death took part in helping god learn
by making the meaning of life's lie an unpleasant experience for everyone
The meaning of life then humbled himself
to the realisation
by being recognised as a team player a part of god's divine plan
by this truth recognised he would be healed
and the fact of who he did it for
god would know it was his brother's turn
to be released from the chains
of taking upon the metaphor or personification of murder
whom life itself was metaphorically married to
god's life lesson to learn from himself
his love and his creations to achieve the biggest miracle of love
one that would be never ending just continually improved on
as suggested by father time
Soft lazy clouds push down on sky
Clinging to the heavens with solitary resolve
Heavy wet blankets the oblivious wind
Spreading an icy breath of discontent
One Deceptive Snowflake leads the exodus
Leaving the safeness of sky
Praising in dance new freedom
Giving tow to weary stitches of white
One and more descend into morn'
Following in blissful ignorance
A sea of look-a-likes
Crashing into a wall of color
Masquerading as equals
In denial of their uniqueness
Land in rest
On heels of the charge
Helpless in a frozen wall
Wishing only for thaw
When warmth melts betrayal
Into wells of forgiveness