Best Heedless Poems
Oh so far I feel to find you
Oh so near I cannot bind you;
You so wise my plea goes heedless
You so dear my plea was needless.
In each human heart you shine
For all that's good is now devine;
Each act of love brings transformation
With thoughts and words of consolation.
Breath of life, you are the centre
In that point of time we enter;
A love that gives the glow of gladness
Brings relief to comfort sadness.
All we cherish, always flowing
Passes time beyond our knowing;
Trials to test our trust and love
Lead us to new paths above.
Creation lives in love inspired
Creator lives in all desired;
Painter of the cosmic spaces
Life you give to earthly places.
Though all humanity may claim you
There's none so wise that can name you
Human mouths be mute before you
Silence only can adore you.
It seemed like nature had concocted a singular miracle
As I sat on the wooden bench looking in towards the woodland.
A red maple tree stood tall surrounded by eucalyptus trees
While down below grew the yellow protea and acacia scrubland.
Sun filtered in between the green and red coloured full growing trees
Sending bright rays of light upon the lotus decorated lake,
Dragonflies flitted over flowers, as cicadas sang their song,
As a light south breeze ruffled the surface, what melodies they make.
Thus I sat amazed at the scenery so magical and bright,
Admiring all beauty God's creation that no man can design.
Meantime my daughter sat quietly next to me, mobile in hand,
Tapping messages away, heedless of the view as I did pine.
Vulgar pale appearance
Viscount of blood sucking
Vicious creature of night
Vulture seeking its prey
Venomous fangs hunger
Victims heedless to threat
Veins puncture on impact.
Refrain
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.
Do you ask me why does my sorrow flow so
Endlessly for him? Is he not gone the way
Of men that many went before? O I do know
My time may not be long, and lessons delay.
Who do think was the man in the mirror? did
You see us there, did you know it oppressed him
When like wanton dogs drugged and rabid
Went heedless along the callous way being dim.
Look at the dance videos again, tell me
You see the what he begs to beat it. Off the wall
Are shadows falling like an inner expose
Where he internalized the world, and yet did call
In many songs - his troubled world was us
But now the king's sun set to dust, and we
Remain to heed and weep the vanity of lust
The tangled truths of out tentacled history!
Michael was God's gift to our season, and how I
Wish he would dance for me across the tribal plains
Of Africa again, where warriors ride in the sky
Through the fire make us brothers without chains
A global oneness where dreams deny the child
Nothing again. O death, what oneness beyond this
Can we find? Treat him kindly there, be mild
To him who in this troubled life knew no bliss.
Michael I miss you; O genius, sleep now in peace
The storms of life are over, the lightning ends
And droughts will come again, but I'll never cease
To proclaim your virtues to foes and friends;
Sleep beloved. Your glory stream in summer's eye
And Harlem's street are filled, old men remember
And old women interrupt their planning to cry
Farewell, Michael ... the grandest star is but an ember.
Drizzling, dazzling
splinters of diamond
Shards of crystal
or liquidized glass!
Transparent drops
from a translucent sky.
Ooh, that lucid lustre:
No wonder they say,
there's something sexy about the rain
Atleast it does seem to drive
dripping lovers insane.
And then as if frenzied, suddenly excited
the drizzle converts into a heavy downpour
as thunders bellow and thunders roar
as rivers swell and rivers soar.
Rain battering our rooftop
like needless war drums
or heedless bass drums
The heavens having opened
to announce a cloud burst
Till it's said to be raining cats and dogs
or more realistically, fishes and frogs!
O' God bless the nimbus
Those soaking cotton wool puffs in the sky
Those candy floss rainclouds sailing by.
Horrid, horrid thought;
Tiny Mother reaching forth,
Reaching always to enfold,
And in enfolding just to hold.
Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and deed.
What to do? What to do?
I am me, and I am you?
Looking for a glint of power.
Searching, searching, hour by hour;
Love…caring…heedless heart;
No Mother were you from the start.
Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and deed.
What to do? What to do?
I am me and I am you?
Broken waif, soul chafed;
Battered daughter, mother’s pride;
All that’s beautiful she must hide.
All that’s soft, all that’s warm, half formed.
Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and undone deed.
What can I do? What can YOU do?
I am me, and you are you?
Crushed like flower pedals in a fist,
Flung haphazardly in the mist.
Nasty, sour, bitter lost;
She was forced. We are forced.
Is all lost?
Date 10/12/2008
On some bleak airfield on some Cambridge fen
(that awful winter – 'forty-seven, I think)
my mother, novice servicewoman then,
crossed parade-ground like a skating rink
to see the Christmas concert on the camp.
Inside, the nissen hut was black as ink
till airmen lit a feeble spirit lamp.
The snow was driving against one outer wall:
she calls to mind a smell of tents and damp
and stinging fingers, fresh from snowballs,
and gouts of steam, blown out in cloudy spurts
as people laughed. Then lights dimmed in the hall.
She now recalls a curious stab of hurt
to see the Italian janitor of the base
revealed onstage in P.O.W. shirt
when curtains opened. What had been a place
of uproar, now – faced by this threadbare clown –
had undergone some dreadful loss of face.
In dubbin make-up, N.A.A.F.I. dressing-gown,
as solemn as a high priest at the altar,
this patched-up Pagliacci, ear-flaps down,
sang ludicrously well. The keyboard faltered,
and stopped. The singer, weeping now, kept on,
quite heedless, as his clown's nose dripped tear-water.
There's something sacred in the humblest song
(with wretchedness wrought into lasting good
through alchemy of art) and, all along,
the watchers, to their horror, understood.
He sang so gorgeously of going home
because he knew full well he never would.
Plant Not your seeds in Poor
soil. Heinous and Quagmire
loves society. Yet,
you seclude yourselves from
your very own seed that
you have planted. But, Why?!
Non compos mentis
at the time?!... Were you
Callous?!... Or maybe
Myopic?!... Even
society that
claims to be so
Erudite has
no rejoinder.
Complicity
lurks within
the poor soil.
Be Chary
when you
Make your
S-E-E-D-S!
Pace, G.
INK-U-SCRIPT
06-15-2012
I went out walking to the woods today
I saw some canvas cities there
And many empty houses along the way
With yards overgrown or bare
And some building still in a heedless way
I met the paradox of man's dismay.
I went out walking to the woods today
To find the road not taken there
But following fire and cloud turned away
To wipe my friend's uncomforted tear
And watch the jays and the magpies play
All around our descending disarray.
I went out walking to the woods today
To escape the cities cold despair
But from earth's predicament could not turn away
The sunlight withered gardens everywhere
And there the road not taken made of clay
God with us amidst sins decay.
Solstice…
Solstice…
How can I drag myself without divine wine?
I am falling, and I need wine to be mine.
Being inebriated has its own joy,
To me, heedless and headless both are just fine.
I am tired of me being without me.
The me left me, and I don’t know where is he.
He is not me; where is he gone? He is missed.
I am not me; me is not him; who are we?
I am done with my faith, love, and devotion.
With this gray hair, my soul has no emotion.
Where is my bottle of wine? How much more pain?
I’m done with the desert drown me in ocean.
How much longer for my chalice to get filled?
How much more is enough before I get killed?
I came in, and I stayed, and now, it is time.
I must break from my cage that I didn’t build.
The sky is full of tears; it washes my pain.
To me, the best remedy is dancing in rain.
Am I going to dance once more as it rains?
Hope I will see the next year, and then complain.
The good and all the bad are kept within us.
If you have it, you will lose it; have no fuss!
The more you gain, the more you lose when it's time.
Keep only love for good; not much to discuss.
6/10/18 Haloo
This poem is in the form of "Rubaiyat", it is the plural form of Rubai. Rubai is a quatrain with the rhyming of AABA. Each Rubai is a book by itself, it starts and ends within the quatrain, but when it's in the form of Rubaiyat, it follows the single theme with the same meter throughout. Poetrysoup has a good explanation of this format.
As rippling horizon
douses fiery orb,
you are at your
most alluring.
Ethereal,
diaphanous limbs
stretch out,
reach for me,
beckon to me.
Barely audible murmurs,
laced with
forbidden promises,
cross the distance
between us.
Whispers become
more insistent,
more urgent,
more pressing.
Begging, cajoling,
pleading, coercing,
demanding that I come to you,
that I give myself to you.
Eventually,
inevitably,
relentless appeasement
erodes my resolve.
Heedless of the warnings,
heedless of the risks,
I succumb completely,
totally and willingly,
without compunction,
without restraint.
Wrapped in your embrace,
rapt in your presence,
I submit to your whims.
So implacable,
indefatigable,
I'm utterly entranced.
You draw me down,
encourage me,
guide me,
bid me explore you.
Probing your inner sanctum,
I crave you,
love you,
know you.
Your scent,
your taste,
your sounds
fill my every sense.
I inhale you, imbibe you,
devour you, as you -
in turn - devour me.
Your very essence engulfs
every inch of my body.
Breath snatched from lungs
as passion escalates,
threatens to consume me,
promises to consume me.
I thrash atop you,
beneath you,
within you;
borne aloft
on waves of ecstasy.
And finally,
finally,
when I have
no more to give,
you cast me aside.
Giddy,
exhausted,
totally spent,
I roll over and watch,
helpless,
as you pull away.
Trembling
outstretched hands
cruelly snubbed.
Desperate pleas
callously spurned.
And then you're gone.
Our time together
was so brief,
so fleeting,
so transitory.
I'll never forget
our impassioned tryst,
but you won't even
remember my name.
Jealousy's venomous barb
pierces my chest
at the thought of
you with another.
I have no wish to share you,
yet I lay no claim to the
Daughter of Poseidon.
You belong to nobody...
...but...
...you do belong to everybody...
--------------------------------
(C) May 2017
Bit of a departure for me... before you think I've gone all "Fifty Shades of Grey", the whole poem is metaphorical.
Souls, beautiful souls, hidden
They shine lazily in the spotlight
At dusk fall, their luminosity is of hope
And our gauges of distress drop
Hearts, loving hearts, delicate
Filled with love enough for a few more
When broken by the heedless hands
They stoop, behind walls, gathering their patches
People, a caring people, friends
They came as strangers to impact this life
Their generosity is like soundless bells
One hand gives, the other blindfolded
Lights, lazy rights, glow
The light for a symbol of humble beings
Beings everyone prays for
They glow when you need them, and when you don’t
Just as carriers, blessings pass through them
Ungratefulness doesn’t hinder them
Delayed by giving, they would have been rich
I pray, for more into their basket of blessing
Earth has daughters, and you are one peculiar
The relativity of wealth and poverty
Amazing.
Einstein’s formulations pale
In juxtaposition to universal carnage.
Obese pigs of a glam,
filled holes of cultural blacktop.
“Get your plump white asses off the necks
of the weak!”
“Who the hell do you think you are anyway?”
The cyclic nature of problem and solution;
“Ahhhhhh,” Eldritch Cleaver where are you?
“Thump, thump, thump,”
The arterial pulse of a puss infected
gangrenous limb
“YES,” whiteness
Raw, heedless, mercenary killers of diversity
Pristine sinks
Seek purity
GOD!
Heedless of rejection
standard smile ever so sweet,
childhood void of substance
youth lost in everlasting grief.
It is not from choice to serve
the world’s ancient art,
although somewhat obliging
never, with an amorous heart.
Learning curves to encounter
street wise evolves the trick,
cloned to procure all-comers
remembered the wall, to build of solid brick.
Within the glow of hopeful themes
upon the road side where they reside,
some locked in obscure dreams
under a solitary lamp light.
Whilst amidst the affluent of their craft
a class of high distinction,
content to work the street of pure gold
ne’er cast an eye on those that bear
the bar-code of extinction.
So soon a whiter shade of pale
for alas a fallen Angel,
forgotten now her love was her fame
for society is unforgiving, spreads the word
across the social media of shame.
© Harry J Horsman 2017
U n c o n s c i o u s while the entire universe
fights against her reality,
she seems to have been MISTAKEN…
She makes all things decent worse,
holding an insensitive mentality,
while all her inhibitions have been TAKEN-
She carries on without contemplation,
forcing her into an oblivious revelation.
C o n t i n g e n t upon her choice to let go,
she reveals the reasons she was rejected-
Stoic and heedless, she craves CONCERN…
Preoccupied with loss she sinks below,
never feeling appreciated or connected.
For absorption of memories she does YEARN.
She craves the desire of a burning sensation,
Forcing her into an oblivious agitation.
N e g l i g e n t to life, she’s always distracted,
feeding off intellect while absent-minded-
Uncurious as to why she’s never felt LOVE…
She once found hope but she overreacted,
and always had to be kindly reminded,
that sometimes awareness comes from ABOVE.
She feels a rush of an inadvertent obliteration,
forcing her into an oblivious orientation.
Form O-Only One
Sponsor, Broken Wings
May 8, 2017