Best Imprudence Poems
They call me the Cheshire Cat, that's my name.
A creation straight out of Lewis Carroll's brain.
I live in a in land of wonder you see,
and store plenty of tricks up my sleeve.
I'm a feline that can grin from ear to ear.
I can also make parts of my body disappear.
I am in love with irony and all its complications.
I adore philosophy and erratic explanations.
Speaking in metaphors, that's my intricate specialty.
I'm not insane, I just live in a different reality.
A reality that fulfills my immortal amusement.
A world where I demonstrate my brash imprudence.
Wonderland's espionage is a good title for me,
eavesdropping on all there is, nestled in my tree.
SHHHHH! I see a young girl approaching, she is coming closer.
She looks alone and lost ......I wonder??
Curiosity can't kill this cat or make me fall
I am a bit mad, I dare say, but aren't we all.
A frozen chunk..
his numb heart thumping against
the malady of raging menace
ears pressed on a twisted loop
his wailing scars defy imprudence.
Gasping as his skin festers
with decaying yellow leaves
awaiting his impending doom
on snow covered in blood red weapons
his drooping eyes imagine his existence
bidding farewell to the soldier
echoing memories of his beloved
rustling leaves wipe in Autumn's whirlwind
smiling faces beginning to dissolve...
Oh but what about angels?
Wouldn't they caress his last wishes..
How he listens to wretched silence
in desolate sounds of trampled twigs..
Envisioning fallacies of resurrection
warm his frozen courage
he succumbs to an eternal slumber..
~~~~~
Swaying in a hammock of ecstasy
he wakes up at twilight
away from the frozen battlefield.
The sultry aroma of electric waves
twirling to seduce him in azure blaze,
his beloved's fingers entwined
to trace sandcastles on his palms,
an albatross afar orchestrating
vibrating shades of dusk in rhythms,
dancing flames of haloed stars
on a galactic opera in breeze..
His carousel of Cashmere threads is a dream
that pulls him away from dark shadows.
He walks freely on a tranquil plane
immersed in oceans of his symphony,
his love gazes in awe of his courage..
Let his soul rest on his soft dreams
wavering like stars from heavenly willow,
slipping in pirouettes to streams of oblivion
he breathes in the silence of his anodyne...
I sought to compose an imprudent poem
And started to draw on the blank paper
Words in transparent foliage
That took on the shape of weeping dew.
I wished to disobey the rule,
Institute an unruly troop,
Not to house feelings of stone,
Nor even listen to balanced peace.
I wanted to, but could not compose
Verses in metrified lines
Using named decasyllables.
Among lines with alternating rhymes,
Is born, with the imprudence as sung
Not a poem, but rather a Sonnet!
Deep below the ocean's surface volcanic vents do spew,
Fumes of pressurized oxygen with their bubbly molten brew.
Down where the water's pressure is denser than that of air,
The lava's effervescent bubbles form an atmospheric lair.
There lives within these domes of air a group of simple people,
Who've built a social structure, igneous edifices and coral steeples.
As mammals, they share the very brain within our own dense heads,
But they've learned to use it in ways we've never dreamt of nor read.
Here above the surface we use our bodies to produce economy,
Blinded by bills and schemes of capital with very little autonomy.
Unbound by bonds of profit and wealth, the people who dwell below in the bubbles,
Can feel and read each others' thoughts, keeping them in love and out of trouble.
To eat, they can summon and stun the fish that swim outside their atmosphere,
With a simple thought which emits a pulsing wave which their minds can hear.
Beyond meeting their needs for sustenance and nutrients,
They spend their remaining time playing with their compatriots.
The games they play are aimed to grow their minds that give them health,
And laugh with friends, for humor and happiness are what they consider wealth.
They have one law: the Golden Rule, which is to love all with pure imprudence,
Which is neither governed by politics nor policed by the failure of jurisprudence.
Unlike the surface dwellers above that they have become psychically aware of,
They have no distant sun to worship but volcanic light that they've grown to love.
For they make no assumptions of origins and live to learn not claim,
Reasons for light to embolden the masses with fear when darkness came.
One day these people wholeheartedly hope that their bubbles will rise to meet,
The people above who live in duplicitous splendor rather than in simplicity of unity.
I cringe to see your delicious tears trickle thus
And your emotions foul as our ties get worse,
I wish we both lived in some idyllic utopian land
Where things obeyed the whip of some magic wand.
There, I would not hold a grudge against my only love;
For there the egotism and imprudence that shove
Our affections to make room for hate do not tread,
And the strings of binding care flourish in their stead.
Which place would keep in friendship two souls so fond?
The frosty chill of the earth would not save such a bond
For it’s fraught with hesitation and such suspicious doubt
That uproots the fledgling shoots of love before they sprout.
Which imaginary land would host our love’s endangered day
And defend it against its impending fast-approaching decay?
I’m convinced that there’s not a place among the planets nine
That can ever tame wild restless hearts such as yours and mine.
Music makes one dance,
and the dancer expresses
the mood of its sound;
poetry makes one recite
verses that are lively or dark...
it's the state of the moment,
that voice trapped inside
longing to break free.
I lift the burden of heaviness
by letting out my breath
and give life to words
whether they sound soft or harsh,
impactful, shallow or profound...
I master the language that
only the poet understands.
Do I expect awards, handshakes
or lauds? None of these I meditate
to win the crown and scepter of the gods,
and undeserving of such glory or merit...
I let modesty outrun imprudence.
Whatever critics think of my work
as being excellent, or mediocre,
I pursue enlightenment in knowledge...
words and ideals that make wisdom grow.
My pen is more powerful when it does
something amazing and reveals
the purpose of its intent by mastering
the language that only the poet understands.
Written on 1/23/2017
These dreams
Which I dream now for few nights—to my surprise…!
As last night she was walking with me
On that willowy road,
And looked down in the dumps, and remorseful for all-- she ever did.
And when I tenderly asked her why?
She gave a quarrelsome reply,
“What! (Bulging her eyes out and wide);
He my Husband is not my Lover?
As I was—someone’s dearly loved…!
And I can feel it every single minute,
I am an unwanted wife but a moneymaking machine.
I…, I mourn my imprudence I called my wisdom,
Rejecting alas! Those merry days and nights in love
For this false fictitious living…!”
Well! I could sense it with ease
That she still loved me as ever,
And needed in bad time my arms’ refuge.
My God! let these dreams turn true
And she returns soon to my long wintered garden
As sweet spring.
Human imprudence
leading to so much bloodshed
learn to love like birds
share the sky above to fly
let love triumph over bullets.
© kashinath karmakar( 10th August 2011)
===============000===============
Placement: 10th ;(August 2011)
Contest:Bald Eagle in Cemetery contest (Photo based)
Sponsor:Carolyn Devonshire
Will liveliness find its way?
Can I see my friend again?
I ask such questions in search of answers,
but find nothing but afflicted heartbreak
when contradiction becomes aching past.
Forgiveness becomes a price
if woe becomes your regret.
I search for reasons to move on with ease,
search for amends from reparation found.
I must atone for the perplexed lost years.
I shan't seek unbearing pain
or things facing forlorn tears.
Stretched out before me is courage and joy.
I need repayment for wrongs committed,
wipe away my morose and disturbed fears.
I drown in depressed anguish,
intense grief and imprudence
can only cease when given one more chance.
I need to find peace of mind, but quittance
could squelch my agonized and intense soul.
My path's lapsed if it's traveled
too light with no warm regard.
Seven-Ten Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet
March 6, 2018
With impatience, we leave
for a broader world covered in gloom
With imprudence, we deliver ourselves
Into a brand new darkness
With grace, we thrive
And embrace the bleak future of our lives
It's just how the society works, I guess
I've tried many times to theorize why we are
And why we hate all
I've tried many times to love
Only to be met with violence
Oh, dear society please keep it up
Maybe if I shout high enough
I will be understood
Maybe if I cursed loud enough
You'd hear me out
I'm just a pitiful error;
Unfit for modern society's perfect biology.
With anger, we delve down
Into a bloody hell that everyone seems to love
With anguish, we march to the tone
The tone to injure ourselves to
With perfection, we love
And I hate you
It's just how the society works, I guess
I've learned that all of us are fake pieces of rubbish;
I've learned we're all littering a beauty that we rape slowly, surely
Oh, dear society please keep it up
Maybe if I hurt immensely,
I can inflict these wounds onto you as well
Maybe if I leap down the concrete tundra,
I can make it rain acid on your precious face
We're all pitiful errors;
we're all perfect for one another
Screw your creations, beast
Screw your ideals
Society, please glue my shattered pieces
Into your deviated masterpiece
I hate you...
Maybe if I die slow enough,
I can enjoy the burning of it all
Maybe if my corpse mocks well enough,
I can stir tears in your toilet eyes
Pitiful error;
that's all we ever were.
It is dreadfully bitter
The taste of my imprudence
A brackish reminder
Bubbling acrid froth
Impossible
To choke back
Aftershocks heave and pitch my
Shaky foundation
Acid courses over
My
Dreams
Destroying hope of
Amaranthine love
The brine erodes each stone
So well
Etches them with its indifferent regard
Leaving me a caustic cocktail
To slake a ruthless thirst
Nothing is sweet
Everything
Burns
Dreams are best left for dreamers
I will gather stones for my foundation
Dear child, in your ascent toward maturity: optimize liberty exercise
overcome dilemmas of rationally choosing between right and evil
along discernment to choose always the best against the better
be enlightened as deceit in the guise of truth lurks---
leading to the door of nowhere.
My child, be warned: Don’t wallow in agony over impulsive decisions
while groping in hopelessness, tortured by angst of imprudence
then suffer because of blind optimism’s grievous affliction
since it’s easy to be fooled by glowing vanity beam---
pointing to the road of futility gain.
Oh, child, I beseech you to keep on walking circumspectly with integrity
I say this since I love you, and I care for your successful future
once I ventured freely; you, too, are entitled for it blissfully
yet, heed to instructions avoiding blunders’ repetition---
directing to the way of peace-filled eternity.
Now child, I beseech you to yield to the Almighty God Who ushers your steps*
nurtured by His Word and reared through His compassion sufficiency
cleave steadfastly to the Saviour with faith that pleases Him
repenting for transgressions while thanking His grace---
assuring life everlasting.
*Psalm 37:23 The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way.
September 18, 2020
The astute and the dumb are
found on this road we traverse;
the one with goals to set, the other
with no character, interest or talent...
can both coexsist and not clash?
Which one of these two individuals
can survive a biological warfare
without discipline and knowledge?
Most certainly, the one has studied
the activities of the superior minds
that somehow seem invincible to
whatever they encounter on the
battlefield or in the menacing air.
This is not a war between two
mythical gods, Jupiter and Saturn;
who took the side of the courageous
Titans? Today, nobody is immune to
such an Apocalypse event, it may partly
or entirely destroy our unique planet
on any erratic, or maddened moment.
Let the mindful guide the careless
and diverge them from their dramatic fate.
If History is a testament of lies and truth,
can it be meditated by some who are
about to repeat the mistakes of the fools?
The astute will prevail in any given
circumstance, the dumb will be subdued
for his ignorance and imprudence.
I sit by the moon
and exhale all my zeal
of wanting you one more time
but the pain I don't want to feel
again and again over your imprudence
of not comprehending my love
and slaying my feelings while playing innocence.
#monostich
After ten years a night like this,
when I will be in my late thirty's;
with a healed heart and maintained smile,
I will be laughing at my youth's flaws undefined.
I will be laughing for rushing after those 'emotionally absents',
I will be laughing for wasting months and years over my imprudence.
I will be laughing for dedicating them saucy love poems.
Maybe I will be reading them aloud but I will not be feeling the same.
Those breathless nights will be gone.
I no longer be keen to do constant adorn.
Those traitors shall be anxious to get back me,
but I shall not feel the same pace of glee.
I shall be celebrating my birthday without mourn.
Because till then I shall admit this that 'Winners Stands Alone.'