Best Inconspicuous Poems
Amid the white patches of that mauve gracious dusk,
I bask in an awaited dawn since I found myself from a lost world
to win over my innermost conflicts at last,
I remember the spirit that rejoiced my tattered hopes...
~~~~~~My Phoenix spirit guides me in~~~~~
That mighty river~~
which flowed through rapids and ravines and
streams that mingled into it or crossed a path just once,
I remember the light which kept me sane...
The incessant cycle~~
of nights and days,
inconspicuous, anticipated, enchanting
I remember hushed whispers transforming into soothing lullabies..
That steady rock~~
which stands for ages facing all the odds
to wait for a pleasant morning,
I remember how it revived the withering moss...
That drop of rain~~
which poured to rejuvenate life in grief,
I remember how it soaked parched Earth in colors...
That winter breeze~~
accompanied by frost, undesired yet gleaming with delight,
I remember the wings that made it soar in the sky..
That lost alley in the woods~~
which guided voyagers even when nobody liked to walk upon it,
I remember the fire that guided a laid path...
That oak tree~~
which grew from a sapling when storms tried to uproot it,
I remember the courage that kept it upright...
The warrior who never gave up~~
despite the battles lost in the journey,
I remember the ashes that built her again...
The woman who found a life~~
growing from a naive girl who learnt from her mistakes,
I remember the dreams that revealed the mystery of love....
A light of faith, a ray of hope,
A drop of elixir, a soothing breeze
The fire that builds from ashes to rebirth
over lands to fly upon and rise
It guides me, lights me, loves me
While I rise to revive my hopes
I see a Phoenix engulfing my spirit.
May 26, 2020
Spirit Animal Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance(Dear Heart)
Winner: First Place
Writing a poem is like giving birth to a baby.
With the copulation of fancy and thought,
Comes the moment of conception!
It swims into you as a seed, so tiny, so inconspicuous
Once pregnancy is confirmed, comes irritation, nausea
Lethargy and loss of appetite
All the while you begin to realize
That a new life, independent of you
Has begun growing inside you
Then all the care taken to foster the young life
You withdraw, take rest and relax in solitude
Slowly the fetus moves, the first stirring of life!
With fond fingers, as you pat your belly,
Your pen pats the paper.
The first line comes like the first beating of the heart!
Then words….like little harness bells tingling
Fall in line, line after line!
Drawing nourishment, the embryo grows limb by limb
The miniscule of insight, grown after months of waiting,
Into a mature body of illumination!
A stretch of your dreams! A suffusion of light!
After the labor pains of scribbling and scrawling,
Writing and rewriting, deleting, adding and editing,
With time stretching and contracting,
A baby, nay, a poem is born……
August.4.2022
~Placed Seventh~
Simile Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Hilo Poet
you see me a monster
an angel in disgrace
for I plucked my wings out
just to honor the human race
inconspicuous yet dark
a disciple with a mark
all they do is lie and swear
they are always unprepared
for free will might be your gift
but their hearts are all adrift
I'm ashamed of what I've done
I can't be like everyone
all these mortal emotions
deny me of your devotion
how can an angel be so void
when human emotions they avoid
they are right, we are wrong
God have mercy on their Souls
Written: December 26, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
__________________________________________
Poem Inspired by Joe Bonamassa song: Cradle Rock
If I were a crib, would you allow me to rock?
In the soothing embrace of a lullaby talk.
Do you vow to watch out for me with care?
If I sway erratically through the air,
If I were an anchor, I'd secure your ship.
Sustaining you and not allowing you to dip.
Even when it storms, I'll hold you tight.
An unshakeable anchor built for the night.
If I turned an atom, I'd glide through the trees.
Could you view me? Could you hear my pleas?
Would you be struck by the facets of life's chart?
Could I potentially be inconspicuous amid my art?
If my mobile phone fails yet, I am outside.
Will you allow your dogs to lead me and guide?
Would you save me with a howl and a growl?
Do you zealously guard my desire and soul?
Should I be a baby? Could you let me fall?
Or will your hands wrap me and assist my crawl?
Would you tenderly supervise my first step?
And protect me from the chaotic misstep.
If I'm a felon, will you aim for my caught?
Or will you be able to set me free, fraught?
With caring eyes, could you sense my pain?
Allow me to gain relief by cutting this chain.
If I were a tiger, would you have me in a cage?
Or will you let me roam, wild and uncaged?
Will you accept my chaos and my savage desire?
Then will I ignite with ravenous zeal and fire?
Don't let the euphoria be the sole escape.
There's plenty else in life to relish and shape.
Discover your purpose and your drive.
And turn your ambitions and hobbies alive.
Yet if you are surrounded by fumes and haze,
You'll skip all the vibrant hues life displays.
Explore the world as if it were a white slate.
So much you may miss as you're at a fete.
Will you allow me to view if I am a night light?
Let your soul shine, and darkness will be bright.
Offering guidance while casting a soft glow.
An inspiration, no matter where you show.
The only normal family is abnormal.
Do we have daymares?
Thinking is a soliloquy of the mind.
Do you really think Jack and Jill only wanted a pail of water?
To be great is to be misunderstood.
Some people must dream to balance those who don’t.
I am entombed by the landscape of my mind.
Don’t live in a sand castle hoping the tide will stay out.
It’s hard to be an odd person in an even world.
Why is common sense so uncommon?
Your perception of reality may not be real.
The wave does not have to look for the water.
Life is making sense out of nonsense.
Is insight the opposite of outsight?
Are the colors of the trees the colors you see?
Is the opposite of disgruntled, gruntled?
We are always giving our attention to something.
Don't be conspicuous about being inconspicuous.
Is what’s behind your front in front of your back?
Isn’t nothing, something?
The clouds part at their roots…
Colliding the winds, waves
Crashing the shores.
We meet…
A rare combination
Of circumstances,
Our situation aggravate
A drastic storm, perfectly.
Words swarm our minds
Like busy bees in search
Of the sweet nectar of allegorical,
Similes and metaphoric explanations…
Pollinating our conscience and subconscious
Respectfully…
The obvious perplexities of poetic banter
And inconspicuous meaning
That bounds us…
Words that conjure from elevated places,
And rollercoaster into the subliminal…
Twirling around into loops, pen to paper
Screeches and screams to an abrupt stop.
The unexplainable written,
Describing what was unknown…
Scrambling to unscramble words
To define this acquaintance,
And when the stars play chase
Through the night sky
And the moon is set-
Know that somewhere out there
Two poets have met…
Music to my ears, so mellifluous
is the nightingale's song, ambiguous,
Give ear to her notes, they float on the breeze,
swirling through the air, they're tuned to appease;
I dance to her song, so mellifluous,
She's sitting somewhere, inconspicuous,
Her aria drifts down and I’m entranced,
In the stillness, her whistling sounds enhanced;
I hear her melody, mellifluous,
and I forget all my cares, strenuous,
Lost in her lilt, feeling romantical,
All I needed was Nature's canticle;
Such mellifluous strains, simply classic,
I hear the voice of God in her music.
09.18.2021
For Constance La France's ""M" contest, new poems only"
The secretive type
I like to creep in the night
when you hear me speak
under my breath to be polite
(i'm talking to you)
inconspicuous keep killing
the mystique building
I only speak to the
freakishly sick children
Being Taciturn
(TASS-uh-tern)
By: Miracle Man
8/29/2018
She’s often outwardly taciturn in a group setting,
Opting to be inconspicuous, “Like a fly on the wall.”
Being attentive to others while mentally vetting,
Often, her shorthand is chosen method of scrawl.
Darkness and radiance
frolicsome purport
and access of
visible world and
inconspicuous world
heart to grace
spawn the shades of truth
redeemer
between
contest of awareness
and the depth of the ocean
concealed
beneath the shackles
of humankind
Written: September 30, 2022
A Wolf...A Lamb...A Wolf
Forgetting myself...started with me
To be sweet, to be quiet...to fit in.
Conformity!
Impress by agreement. A Lamb I could be.
Convince all my thoughts;
Copacetic is me
*So it began...
My best thought is, I'm at peace. I'm content.
Be positive! I can do this!
Be like a lamb.
Softly; I'm a breeze. Calm in my soul.
Gently I'll allow, only good thoughts to flow
Small, inconspicuous... I'll learn, it's me
Just nod in unison, always agree.
*I am a Lamb...
My favorite thought is;
I'm about love, not despair.
Quiet my being.
Silently there.
My thoughts do whisper,
a pleasing hushed ease
'I am not conflict'
For lambs, only, please.
What?!!
*I am a Lamb.
My finest thought is;
I'm wonderfully bright.
As a golden suns warmth slowly softens my light.
Embrace others truths, as they are my own.
So they won't see it, I can't be alone. Suddenly. I feel
like a liar!...A cheat!
Conforming isn't me!
My own thoughts rise, to defeat.
Forcing their way, repossessing my soul
I am 'not' a lamb kept under control!
Fueling my mind, with courage and might.
My confidence is back! Submission won't fight.
*I am 'Not' a lamb.
My true thoughts are; I'll regain what's been sold.
Get back my old self, feel enlightened and bold.
My thoughts are not truths! What I believe, is my right!
My true self is brave! Be damn sure, I will bite!
*I Am a Wolf
My only thought now is; I'm seeing me, so clear.
I am 'not' a Lamb,
I'm a Wolf without fear!
To deviate or follow. To protest or agree.
My thoughts are my own!
To decide, up to me
*I AM a wolf!
Now, I am genuine. Honest and free.
I'll behave as I choose, I've re-found the true me!
I will brown nose to no one or be a doormat for love.
Take me or leave me, herein and above.
I'll be contented and scrappy, 'cause that's who I am!
Definitely a Wolf.
Not particular to Lamb.
I Will not comply
I Will not lie down
I Will not go quietly
I Will not submit
I Will not roll over
I Will not shut up
I Am Not a Lamb!
They approached me in an inconspicuous way
as quaint & confusing disillusionments do,
saying, " Hello, you're the best - "
I replied reluctantly,
" Thats why I weep every night - " ,
crying like a captured secret,
sorrowful like a caged cure for cruelty,
they became silent as photographs missing sentiments,
our dialogue was at an end,
was my statement a joke, modesty, a travesty,
nobody wins something of value by themselves,
One cannot taste the terror of triumph individually,
and risk is instinct to a Victor's jubilee,
I mention these maxims as testaments,
validations for the tears of all winners
who have lost tremendously along the avenue named " Greatest " ,
there exist three inevitable enemies that attempt to impede
the achievements of all great people, ironically,
these serve as motivations not to rest,
first, the lazy luxuries of life that stymie the strength
of ambition and when absent,
induce abject illusions of incredible iniquities
which stifle Will,
secondly, undisguised, unabashed competitors
whom combat without care or compassion for others,
devoid of devotions to fairness or decorum,
thirdly, and sadly, loss of loyal friends,
they once greeted you respectfully, then eventually
cheerfully, dutifully deride you for exposing mediocrity,
please don't dismiss this lesson of lonesome liberation via success
as a proud 'pity parade', masquerading megalomania,
or as being dreamily decietful,
to be a faithful, or even phony follower,
to be intentionally indolent or dastardly discouraging is so simple,
so safe,
Freedom is often distasteful -
J.A.B.
Words To A Wren
They have not taken thee, thou art too small
To tinge their fancy with a moment's flush;
Thy safely lieth in a ruined wall,
Thy plainsong blendeth with loud water's rush.
In dusky shade thy duskier shadow flits
Beside the pathway; friendly in thy flight;
No wrath of Heaven scares thee from thy wits,-
Thou art a brave and homely little wight.
What man can tell the meaning of the tongue
Thy presence in our memory uttereth?
What say you the thoughts of thee that wind among
Our travels on the ways of life and death?
If our hearts knew that secret we should be
Lords of the legend of our destiny.
Robert J. Lindley
presented , 3-10-2016
Note:
1. Wren- The wrens are mostly small, brownish passerine birds in the mainly New World family Troglodytidae. About 80 species of true wrens in roughly 20 genera are described. Only the Eurasian wren occurs in the Old World, where in Anglophone regions, it is commonly known simply as the "wren", as it is the originator of the name. The name wren has been applied to other, unrelated birds, particularly the New Zealand wrens (Acanthisittidae) and the Australian wrens (Maluridae).
Most wrens are small and rather inconspicuous, except for their loud and often complex songs. Notable exceptions are the relatively large members of the genus Campylorhynchus, which can be quite bold in their behavior. Wrens have short wings that are barred in most species, and they often hold their tails upright. As far as known, wrens are primarily insectivorous, eating insects, spiders, and other small arthropods, but many species also eat vegetable matter and some take small frogs and lizards.[1]
I'm a whisper in the wind, shouting out,
mocked by reality, I'm plagued by doubt,
struggling to grasp what life is all about.
Rendered inconspicuous as white noise
I set dreams aside, like yesterday's toys:
hopes my heart harbors, my ego destroys.
I'm a question, posing as an answer;
both a pragmatist and an enhancer;
I treat hypocrisy as a cancer.
He stood erect, still and silent
like a wax museum figure
in an inconspicuous nook
hidden in nocturnal darkness.
His long, needlelike canines gleamed
in the moons ebbing subdued light.
Blood red fleshy folds encompassed
these parasitic instruments.
Two grand, black, membranous wings hung
close to his sides, down to his feet.
On a sudden, voices were heard
Trick-or-treaters were approaching,
nearing his ambush location.
With anxious anticipation
his webbed wings began to quiver.