Best Disquietude Poems
my gaze upon my sweet love is amorousness and awe
I find everything about this man of mine erotic
his eyes are full of hunger and yearning
and my thirst for him is pure lust and desire
when we are apart I am filled with disquietude
as my need is both joy and misery
love like this is a beautiful rapture that comes unbidden
it is an infinite bond that is fragile as a blooming flower
I am swept away in the fever of this passion
it comes to me like wind driven storm clouds twirling
and we are sent swirling on vast rolling ocean waves
then, we plunge into the deep fathomless blue
and we are drenched with this wild love
when we are together there is an intensity and aching
a vehemence fierce and bold with a captivating promise
he makes me so happy and I glow with effervescence
our love is growing like a wandering forest vine searching
we can talk for hours and hours for time means nothing to us
I have a deep respect for his opinion on all matters
and he is a good listener and likes it when I read my written words
and I see and feel his many admirable qualities
oh, for this man I have great reverence and veneration
and when he kisses my waiting lips red as wine
I gasp in the knowledge that this romance we share is eternal
it will endure and go on forever and will be unending
I love this man with- a love- p e r p e t u a l . . . .
________________________
February 7, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/'a love- perpetual'
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1160-765-02
Submitted to the contest, Best Free Verse 2019
sponsor, John Hamilton
Second Place
Being a frontline health careworker
has us all consumed with fear
A nursing home filled with the elderly could
become a catastrophic atmosphere
If the Coronavirus enters their home
it would be almost impossible to curtail
Most have underlying health conditions
and are very vulnerable and frail
In trepidation we work day after day
In disquietude but with hopeful smiles
That none of us are Covid -19 carrier's
as uncertainty and stress stockpiles
Still we laugh and joke and try to keep
our wits and spirits high
Even though this impending world crisis
make us all want to cry
Understaffed and overworked will soon
become our new norm
May angels watch over all of us as we weather
this unexpected storm
We vow to stay upbeat and positive
to take each day in stride
We will continue our loving ways with the
upmost compassion and pride
April 1, 2020
...dedicated to W.B. Yeats, in response
to his poem 'When You Are Old'
When you are young sweet innocence abounds,
your step is gentle, all your dreams are free
of grim disquietude, such joy you see
as gaily you discharge your daily rounds.
Your heart is light, bereft of grave concern
that troubles him whose purity is lost,
who argues and contends at any cost,
who complicates and twists at every turn.
Simplicity must be your cornerstone,
strengthen your heart against all sorts of strife
that undermine a childlike view of life,
strive and prevail, lest innocence be gone!
Inside a boisterous tavern,
a-light with drunken gaiety
of spilled ribald laughter,
he quietly sits alone ...
gently cradling his mead darkly
Brooding thoughts of past paid coverings
buzzes inside his head
Talking flies having the faces of the dead
“Have mercy, please”
This haunting cry, they all pled ...
except the halo head ones
“I forgive you”
This they all compassionately say
in time dispersed unison
The self-muted giant rubs his eyes,
still in somber inner disquietude,
at this troubling sight he has seen several times
Witnessing a bright, shining glow,
which radiates all around the tops of those
who call themselves Christian disciples —
before descends the sharp, quieting blow
It is by his liege, Caesar’s command,
to eradicate the scattering vermin radicals,
that he daily swings the severing blade
The duty-bound Herodian executioner
must always stay masked
when the murdering performance ensues
This is by privileged decree:
the entertainment requirement rules
A black cloth covering,
sprinkled with scarlet droplets,
is the terror mask his masters has him use
Rabid crown sycophants love their crucifixions,
the Roman preferred method of capital punishment
But, his under-lord, Herod, still adheres
to the ancient Molech ways —
Death by the beheading blade
Sighing, the brooding giant gazes about the riotous inn
with roaring, unspoken disdain
Even without the ritual Deimos mask on,
all within the tavern knows his occupation,
evidenced by his massive frame
They yield a fearful wide berth to him,
no one sits in the seats around his hulking presence
Looking down at his Pilate-cursed hands,
he sees the blood of the guilty and the innocent
Bloody hands that can’t be washed clean ... never
As long as he raises his arms,
and lets the body-separating blade swing
A storm is brewing...
If you listen closely
Hold your breath
Close your eyes
Cock your head
And…really listen,
You’ll hear it –
You’ll hear
the deafening sound of silence!
There’s a reign of hush
all over the landscape
engulfed in deep shadows,
And your heart starts pounding
You get a feeling of foreboding,
There is no wind
No rustling of the leaves,
You look up
The sky hanging heavy and laden,
Thick rolling clouds
gray and pregnant with moisture
Bursting at the seams—
There’s this state of brooding disquietude.
Then you hear a slight rustle,
Suddenly you look up in time
to see a leaf quiver,
But again, a breath-taking silence…
And then, in the gathering gloom,
A blinding lightning,
Like someone just flashed
a giant camera in your face!
For a split second you see
all the trees standing dark
and hunched over like chained slaves,
Standing in a row
tired, beat and hopeless
of what’s to come next.
The earth beneath your feet
tremble under an ear-splitting,
earth-shattering clap of thunder
rumbling like a distant cannon fire.
And then like a thousand Niagaras
The rain starts bearing down
with jihadi fervor
water-logging the earth,
Like the heavens bursting into tears,
Like the ocean caught up in a spasm;
Then you understand, you feel,
In every pore of your skin,
The awesome fury of Nature.
~03/25/16
~A Storm is Brewing contest by Kelly Deschler
Awakening Perpetually
by Odin Roark
Awakening perpetually knows well
Perfection’s tuning fork disquietude,
Its awareness that any off-key meandering
Can cloud over a caressing sunshine rising,
Sour a dawning’s gardenia fragrance.
One reaches skyward with morning’s extension,
The opening of shuddered windows,
Inviting breezes to find purpose
Among slumber’s expended air,
The body’s unwearied resilience.
About the room
Timeless ghosts bow heads and implore with stretched arms,
Aroused by their history’s carillon, matins and lauds,
Even as cobblestone passage below traffics today’s gluttonous appetite,
Fulfilling its locust-like consumption,
Unabated by cacophony’s garrulous conceit
Propelling a different consciousness
Self-destructing by tourismic mayhem.
But…
To step forward and lean on man’s balcony of hope,
Is to lift weary eyes above the clutter below
Onto rising light’s warm-colored horizon,
To give one’s tuning fork its earned reward,
The sense of harmony and melody
Being born of another day.
Such is the embrace of dawn’s meaning,
The anticipation of canvas to paint,
Verses to write,
Preludes to compose.
For lest we forget,
Awakening remains perpetual,
Whether for man, creature, seedling or flower.
It asks only to be honored.
Miasma Ripening
by Odin Roark
The chaff of greed
Feeds the consumer-compost,
While urban disquietude
Marches in lockstep.
Decomposition rages…
Choked roads of sunbaked gridlock,
Spider web into house upon house,
Creating cubic-waste upon cubic-waste,
Richer,
Poorer,
Fancier,
Shittier.
Drive by Reality…
Poor eye the rich,
Rich eye endless wants,
Avarice-bloated ticks of debt
Cruise side by side,
Beamers in the middle lanes,
Teslas in the fast lanes,
Phony nails,
Phony tans,
Corporate coffee,
Frilly coffee,
Strip mall yoga,
Storefront Scientology,
Think it…
You can buy it.
“Parade” the operative word…
As flesh and blood window-mannequins
Masquerading as humans,
Bedeck themselves in ugly clothes,
Garish clothes,
Supplied by the ever-surging China.
Just as toxic denial continues,
So too the enslavement’s rising stench,
Its ripening enticement lingering,
Its seductive aftertaste addictive,
Oh, so addictive.
Once two hearts entwined into one
Body and soul drunken embrace fusion
Sunshine and starry skies we couldn't ignore
On wings we use to soar
Fly forever and never fly away
Love I thought would always stay
A desire to rekindle the drop of love left
Dry the river of tears I have shed
Under my skin sweet whisper
Yearns, but also forages anger
Though reclusive, in my solitude
Escape is an illusion to elude
Quivering rumbles feelings of disquietude
Our soul’s no longer entwined, but brewed
This journey has ended, it’s time to say goodbye
2/9/2016
Poetry Contest: Entwined
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
..dedicated to W.B. Yeats, in response
to his poem 'When You Are Old'
When you are young sweet innocence abounds,
your step is gentle, all your dreams are free
of grim disquietude, such joy you see
as gaily you discharge your daily rounds.
Your heart is light, bereft of grave concern
that troubles him whose purity is lost,
who argues and contends at any cost,
who complicates and twists at every turn.
Simplicity must be your cornerstone,
strengthen your heart against all sorts of strife
that undermine a childlike view of life,
strive and prevail, lest innocence be gone!
My sad, deplorable glory is a nightmare for another
This knowing is sickening to the bone
The need for anothers' pain is like a virus
Slitting the veins of truth and delirious want of false
Watching the bile flow through
I emptied a full, sorrowful glass for you
Without even a moment’s glance
Your parched lips opened to drink
But like poison the sustainable exhalation surrounded your body
I shrank at the shrieks of your disquietude
Not knowing what to do
Expression died with the loss of flow
I couldn’t flourish in the bleak winters of your loss
I couldn’t grow
All happiness in a flash of susceptibility
Turned to woe
I gave into thinking it was all an unworthy dream
But the answers, the symbolism was never clear
The loss of your very soul is what I fear
I never meant to poison you in what I take as nourishment
And here now you rot
At the expense of these sad, empty tunes
They must mean close to nothing to you
Pain
Pain
Why do I revolve around the pain?
The empty glass of your spirits remains stained
With the insides of all things true
Torn away
Smothered in a ghostly, ghastly gore
I couldn’t see you could not take it
The sorrow I meant to erase to fake it
But instead make it
The reason I live is to sing for you
To disintegrate the swelling blue
But instead I crawled into your only space
Leaving only disgrace
The gore splattering in jewels across your face
I’ll tell you what
All my achievements are naught
They are only fakes
I am nothing without God’s grace
I spurt with illegitimate words and tunes
That you can never face!
As if by the heaven I inspired
I am drunken with your bile
Of pride risen above the mile
What is this sadness—
This anger, this madness?
Show me what to do
Show me what to say
I’ll dispose of all vagaries I dared to feel today
And replace it with pain
Replace it with pain
Discordance from another is my nightmare smothered
And this the majority crave
The need—the desire for acknowledgement
We will take it to the grave
I never wanted heartless fame
A poison in a cup
I never wanted anything
Only to fill you up
I poured the glass and there it came
Just sad, tired air
Nothing left to give you
Not even the sentiment of a stare
The truth is I am scared
The truth is I am scared
I guess, at times we are all. . .
Not there
7/13/13
Love isn’t amorousness,
Nor is it hunger nor thirst,
With vehemence, I insist: Love is a perpetual motion machine
O! Break! Break! Break! My Hardened Heart!
Be shattered by Love,
And let all your disquietude be shaken out of you, like candy out of a pinata!
E*very time you sacrifice something lesser for something greater, that is Love
From the beginning, nothing you were taught will ever matter more
Find in your heart the beginning, then work Love into practical things
Erupt! With Joy! At the presence, near, of the Beloved
Receive Her as though this new day will be your last
Veneration may be for sillies or fuddies but DO it
Elopement is all the way for the strong of heart
Sight fails, and then the hands learn to know the face of the Beloved
Crying verses with bell-like tongues fly out of those who yearn for Love's Purity
Energy-in-motion is never big enough or beautiful enough to sing Her Name
Near-to-Death, no heart, ever, does not prize it most
Clearly, clean clinical classifications cloy, clot and clutz the fervidness of Love
E*very time you sacrifice something lesser for something greater, that is Love
And now, to the subject of reverence…
When her body is a holy temple before you,
When you must wash your hands and feet and face before you approach her
When you joy to fluff her pillows or your breath catches, when you touch her
face,
When all of her is Divine unto you, and Delightful, and Dear
THEN
That is the beginning of Love!
______
* NOTE: 'effervescence' is spelled out, like in an acrostic poem
2/8/2019
Submitted for: Free Verse On Love -- 10 Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Lu Loo
Sometimes when my darling has had to be away from me,
night’s shadows encase me and I’m assailed by disquietude.
Closing my eyes, I conjure up the vision of my love,
and I put myself with him inside this vision
as he watches me with reverence.
His dark honey eyes draw me in
deeper and deeper, and thus it is. . .
my thirst begins.
I immerse myself in the warmth of his delicious gaze.
I touch with veneration the olive of his face - that sacred place
wherein his beautiful brown orbs so softly glow.
I read in those sweet eyes his growing hunger!
Our lips touch – tenderly at first with a long smooth kiss
until our bodies touch. . .and then
with fervidness,
I’m swept up by the vehemence of his amorousness,
rippling wave upon wave inside his ocean of effervescence.
And when the waves subside,
there is a calm.
My disquietude is gone; I fall to blissful sleep,
knowing that very soon
all that I’ve envisioned -
the eyes into which I sank, the skin I touched and the mouth I kissed -
will be much more than my imagining. Like the ocean -
passion’s waves rise and fall again and again for me and him.
Our love is perpetual.
Feb. 19, 2019
for Lu Loo's Free Verse On Love- 10 Words- Pick A Prize Poetry Contest
My heart sought love with a hunger never sated,
dreamt of it with a thirst cupid never fully aided
and a fervidness of longing no embrace abated.
Perpetual disquietude pooled sadness in my heart
where ashes drowned when my dreams burnt down.
Then came you with such masculine effervescence
my romantic, passionate dreams eagerly renewed.
My willingness and lovingness thrilled to be wooed
by the sheer vehemence that is charismatic you.
Your gaze held an intense, veneration persuasion
and your lustiness was buffed in brazen perfection.
Your endearing love became my safe, cocooned haven.
Whether you tenderly or intensely touch me to possess,
you relay amorousness and reverence in one, same caress.
With you, in romantic paradise, I lovingly, joyously reside.
The beating in your chest is where my sun rises and sets.
You are the Moon’s emissary:
In mood and shades of dark and light,
you share your purpose with your will
equally, mixed in the same bowl
and pour that bright power bestowed
or denied, it seems, according
to both season and circumstance.
You are the Moon’s emissary:
In ebb and flow of human tide,
within a chord of disquietude
you bring the rebalancing word,
stemming here a flood, there dispute,
all in the cause of harmony, unless
declared as love declares itself.
You are the Moon’s emissary:
you serve the altering grey sea,
hearing its whisper day by night,
knowing meanings of silences
and seeing the clean horizon
at dawn you look where man must be,
watching sails shrink to memory.
You are the Moon’s emissary:
Recognise in her circling dance
time tracked as sands of silver ran
and know her care is a command
extended from the distant stars:
To live and love yourself always
as you are, others as you can.
It is Valentine's day and I find myself brooding
as I sift through thoughts both perpetual and
disquieting;
I watch the crowds as they piously enter the card
shop for that sanctimonious day of love and passion
What do I know about love and the hunger games?
Life has sent me a series of boyfriends that go
swifter then they come. Leaving me in transient
motion and rocking frame.
No, I have no reverence for that clamorous day
of cards, blue mascara and silk slips that throne the
bedroom with sensuous hips that swing in fervidness
and lust;
I refuse to be his middle pass. Lost in a disquietude of
feverish resentment I cling to the fantasy of saving
grace and heroes of the past that show amorousness
not with fired loins but through chivalry & courtesy;
Yes, I thirst for the good old days of longitude and time;
The vehemence of my strong belief originates from past
histories that repeat without empathy and give;
No effervescence of full boy will ever claim my heart
except the love of a true one nothing else will do;
In this day and age of texting and sexting, glass tap
messages pale in my arena of love. I'd rather live in a
castle of fairy tales, then in a world of veneration to
to the holy bod and boob.
So on this Valentine day I will part the valance of doubt
and hope that I can find someone who can truly be mine.
Feb 10, 2019
Contest Name: Free Verse On Love
Sponsor: Lu Loo
(Amorousness, Hunger, Thirst, Vehemence, Perpetual
Disquietude, Effervescence, Fervidness, Reverence Veneration)