Best Naturalness Poems
Scrambling over each other, trying hard to be heard, interrupting, yelling out, being yourself.
We knew how to do this when we were two, and three, and four, but they socialized it out of us.
So we grew up un-learning our naturalness, un-learning our playfulness, unlearning our potential.
Sure, they say, we are going to help you with your potential, but as we fit into the lines, conforming,
Winding our real selves into the pretenders others accept, we lose our potential, because it is
Not ours anymore, it is your idea of what ours should be. When we break ranks, and run for it,
You lament that you cannot control us. Thank goodness you cannot, for the leaders, the ones who have
Stood for hundreds and thousands of others have learned to scream their truth from the roof tops,
Challenging those who think controlling others is normal. There is nothing more abnormal than that.
There I go…watching a young girl across my garden,
her body language exposing both pleasure and piety—
soil roots tended with naturalness amidst soft gust…
Like so, she mirrors this eleven-year- old within,
curious though kind with an appetite for daring
the unknown: But I’m not prepared to replay this game—
I mean, a comeback of my innocence when nights
barrage a mind with past transgressions still in need
of hubris’ final release …totally unforgiving,
an inner critic seethes from unresolved anger.
This jovial angel is not me.
My pissed off womanhood soaks in an outpour
where catharsis escapes me,
unless I embrace battles won lost humbly :
I am not there yet.
O that little girl by the garden and my eleven-year
old self vanish that I am left alone
to bear new flowers , their tender plea…my choice.
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5/03/2019
A John lawless Contest: The Crap Shoot Poetry
An aura of ease I carry with me.
A river, I’m rolling, just rolling along.
I move with an adaptability.
An aura of ease I carry with me.
Close to the ground, yet with fluidity,
and my heart often swells with glad song.
An aura of ease I carry with me;
a river, I’m rolling, just rolling along.
I’ll move with that naturalness called ease
on the pathway to my final sea.
Should waves arise from an extra strong breeze;
I’ll move with that naturalness called ease!
When I see sky blaze a last time cerise
and feel eternity beckoning me,
I’ll move with that naturalness called ease
on the pathway to my final sea.
For Paula Swanson's Contest: "I Carry With Me"
The old house stands still.
Rot has set in.
A flying termite caught in the webs of a dead spider, sway to the shrill of a ceiling fan.
All things sway.
Dreams rise and suffocate in the mouldering mortars
Falling on the adjacent tiled roof.
They scream, laugh, make love, declare the infiniteness
Of their finite existence through diatribes of reality and unreality.
They are passionate bunch,
Bound by their common desire to be. And blood.
And the house just is. It still is.
Once there were sparrows in the ventilators.
And envious swallows on the palm trees.
The ripples in the pond sing their dark, merry tunes
Licking away its edges,
And they shove and trample for the whiff of north wind.
Life persists in slow, lonely decadence.
The cactus on the roof thrives in monsoon and in summer.
Basil live and die, live and die trenched in the never ending circle
Of micro-civilisation.
The house harvests its own sustenance in the whispers among its bricks
That become a collective
And a roar is heard.
They pray to Earth.
The old house is defiant,
The old house is tired.
Its melting skin sizzles and stinks of industry of old,
A glorious past always in the distant like the horizon,
The promise of bright future exposed to the misery
That is naturalness of time.
The hammer rusted, weed has grown over,
They clinch onto the sickle, like oxygen.
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Form: Free Verse
Date: 02 / 11 / 2016
Growing up in a state of the country where all the magnificence is limited to either history books or fictional literature, one hopes for something more. This is definitely a political reflection than anything else, but 'the house' is not just a metaphor, it does exist, and so do the people living in it.
Those years were freshened years but the sea
Was filled with stomach cramps, and with burning tips
Against the psychosis on essential truthful belly
Vibrating of dying fishes
As they were jumping angry over the sun's rim
as if they were a kind of greener monsters.
A toxic light as the procession of ecosystem essentials
With its own measurement fled over all these scattering shadows
Of abiotic paths, and evil emerged
Everywhere from east, west; north, and south
In addition, its demented ray makes love
To the son of Harlot who was striking suddenly a final world
As a wedding ass in a golden plate, which contain
A reference to the uncommon value of what we are
And in addition why we must perish.
In a small fountain, however in such concentrated waves
By diluted waters, I drink the rich juice
Of the silence, the directness of the naturalness,
The profundity that dominate the fool,
And from those who create the essential truth
I try to be alive, and that is the only reason
I was loving this unknown monster because I myself not human,
Not a soul sailing but a rare thyroid that created those
Structures threatening to evade the failing
Moment; as they say, the Hope made the killers
Smiling, when the verdict was just a fancy holder,
Moreover, there like a virginal snake, I bite the most
Sweet breast of heaven, not that gracious evil,
Because I am the third appeal, the one you hate.
And when the monitors were still
Invisible, I know a voice shall be thrilling off:
"Oh! I born tomorrow and I can erase
Myself today and see myself in front of you
Twenty thousand years for now, but I am the child
You kill, you rape, oh, you bastard.
As an antibiotic behind it,
All things still pursing each other,
By the still unknown forcer and with intensity
All smashed around me.
I am the one!
The quickness of the hand is replaced by the sudden sight of an immobile body.
This body, free from attack yet as common as you and I.
Wrapping behind the other, the legs meet, suggesting the motion of a female.
There is a nod of acknowledgement, yet too far from understanding.
Attainment-out of the question, but the human body perfected.
This naturalness causes envy, yet is a temporary reaction.
A lightness is masked by vulgarity, which easily can be disarmed.
A bond is craved, yet never fully realized.
Considered seeker of truth, but only speaks of it.
There is confusion within the finesse,
Yet others will dance around it, indulging in their own interpretation.
The poet says that war is a wasteland.
But there is a crueller breeding.
Where those who drink coffee
And breathe the secondary smoke of their lovers
And drink the Scottish honeyed poison
And those who make slavish mortgage payments
And chase the tinselled glory of the cup
Or the greasy position
Or the fickle adulation,
Waste away in their own self.
Where the innocence of the childish
And the trust of the good man
And the naturalness of a pure women
Is hijacked by their sin nature.
The playground of the cheerful dying
is found in the skeptic of the extra dimension
who says seeing is believing;
those who are blinded by unbelief of truth.
The wasteland of the Adam nature separates death from life:
What is true from the truth,
The game from its purpose,
The mask from the face,
Tradition from it's reason,
Oil from water,
Salt from pepper,
Heaven from Earth.
Nothing eternally remains there
Nothing spiritually remains there
Only an inhabitanted wilderness
Where the heat breeds the life that rots.
What a waste.
LCan a man truly know beauty if he fails to behold the natural beauty
within your precious heart? How shall i dance with the twinkling of the
stars and romance the illuminating moon, if I dare not dream the dreams
of tasting the ripen fruits of your blissfulness?
Let me be a wandering man of madness if I should ever not acknowlege
the mesmerzing joy, charm, intellect, and beauty within your mind, body,
and soul.
For my darling C.D., it be those sweet attributes of yours that cause my
sleep to sustain its self, because of seeing you in my dreams from time
to time.
I race like a gazelle to behold your naturalness. i become this quiet lion
in the wake of your defence. I become patience to know and to love your
innermost thoughts and asperations. Yes, my darling, never will I engage
in folly to behold you. Never will I become weak if I shall never taste your
sacred love. Never will I ignore you should I be not worthy of your
fruits of your royal garden of bliss.
For I shall be as I was before I ever encountered you, yet I shall weep
within should you abandon the quest of these sentimental thoughts
of authenticity. Thus was the love of Lady C.D., the radiant princess
which stoled my heart and moved my love to be inside her love.
The teal peels as it submits to gloaming,
and a round lucidity exposed abroad.
As the alien brilliance shines far away,
the maneuvered view is being cast.
'Tis dormancy that exacts dark period of tenure,
countdown from the zero hour.
Distant silhouettes grow versus fawning growth,
dipped in Luna's balm.
The etching of profiled naturalness acquiesces,
constant figurines masquerading the expanse.
Subtle contours architecturally restructured,
split seconds surrender serene scenes.
The solid realm maintained lifeless postures,
as the teeming formations made idle trims.
Mimicry traces the bestilled in passing,
perfect copies render mockeries silence.
Heights claim their surroundings,
as the tight-lipped verdant statuesque frames.
Depths summon intimate intrigue,
whilst burgeoning burrowed bedrock bound.
Exchanging brightness extremely bold,
lilt ventures its routine as the subject of Sol.
More or less defining shadows...
there's no difference that a day would make.
BLUE....
Like the ocean.
Cool,clear,
Rippling over contours
Of body and mind,
Releasing them
Into it’s tranquillity
And peace.
YELLOW....
Like the brightness of the sun
Radiating it’s golden orb
To inspire creation anew.
That reaches within
With deft fingers
To tap the core
Of imagination
And so let thoughts
Flow free.
GREEN....
Like mother earth’s skirts
Of velvet grass,
Playful to the skin,
Soft to the touch.
And all of nature’s tones
That paint the world
In freshness and life.
And instinctively
Calls to the urge
Within each to return
To the naturalness of being.
PINK....
Like the delicate carnation.
And the soft colour-wash
Of a summer’s sky.
Light,fluffy,airy.
Bringing out the sense
Of the child
And a warmth
And gentleness
That is the essence
Of humanity.
RED....
Like the rich pulsating
Blood of life
And the burning
Intensity of fire.
All consuming.
Hot,vibrant.
Energizing,tempestuous.
Feeding the desire
That incites
To the arms of passion,
Yet also fans
The flames of anger
So with the power
To destroy.
BLACK....
Deep,sombre
Like the darkness of night
As it draws it’s curtain
Across the sky.
Bringing with it to some
A sense of foreboding
Despondency,gloom.
The fear that lurks
In every shadow
And shuns the light of reason.
Yet within it’s very silence
Lies that Supreme stillness
That can re-unite the soul
And cast out all fear.
VIOLET....
Like the sweet flower.
A humble unassuming
Portrayal of loveliness.
The pure colour
Of us all
So often buried within.
The true being,
Deep and abiding
Made in the image
Of Gooodness and Beauty.
That speaks to the mind
With the voice of
Wisdom and Truth
And opens the human heart
To the fulfillment of
DIVINE LOVE.
O Mother! O Mother!
Don’t scold us
for painting the sky.
Don’t curse us
for sleeping in the garden
all day long
under the blue sky bewitching.
We’re not idle.
We’re not lazy.
We’re dreaming dreams,
the poet’s dream so pure.
O, my Mother!
Allow us to kiss
the dream’s holy lips.
O how very wonderful,
O how very wonderful it is!
It’s a poet’s dream.
“Ah! What a life the poet leads!”
Playing with the thoughts,
filling them with colors
of the emotion as they change.
Poet’s as the pond,
never stagnate.
They live,
arousing thoughts
all new,
lit with the fickle lamps
of laughter and tears.
O Mother! O Mother!
Don’t scold us
for painting the sky.
Don’t curse us
for sleeping in the garden
all day long
under the blue sky bewitching.
We’re not idle.
We’re not lazy.
We’re dreaming dreams,
the poets dream so pure.
O, my Mother!
Allow us to witness
the heavenly marriage
between the oxygen
ff our dreams,
and the hydrogen
of our realities.
We are poets too!
We’ve been scaling
every mountain of pain
and sailing
every sea of happiness
boarding the plane of our dreams.
O Mother! O Mother!
Let us dream.
Buffer against stress
self- medication
We dream.
O My child!
If only I could think as you.
If only I could dream as you.
“If dreaming you are not,
dream are you yourself,” O Mother!
O My child!
Many a dream is born,
and many a dreams dies,
but life’s way eternally the same.
Life is nature’s own naturalness,
where hopes are drowned
in the sea of miseries,
where illusion is more powerful
than logic and logic than the dream.
Yet dreams are dreams, O Mother!
There is no heart where it is not
There is no mind where it is not.
Even Leonardo Da Vinci’s brush
paused momentarily on the Mona Lisa lips,
to let her dream
- to let her dream.
O’ Mother! O’ Mother!
Let us dream
together you and I
Heaven and Earth
are yet to be one.
Are yet to be one.
Copyright 2007 Bhuwan Thapaliya
No one knows what it's like
To be the sad man
To have on sad eyes
And no one knows
What it's like to feel treason
To be faded to telling only lies
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscious seems to be
I have hours only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
No one knows what its like
To feel these feelings
To be mistreated
To be defeated
No one knows how to say
That they're sorry
And don't worry
I'm not telling lies
I'm convinced that you hate me
You like to see me cry
Its already a proven fact
That you wait
And you wait on me to die
It's all a scary fact
I find it hard to confide
You want to be away from me
I won't let go
Take me down
I've got a reason
And I want to know
The reason for the infidelity
I'm convinced of your unfaithfulness
So I'll wait on you tonight
Please take this time
For me to be unforgiving
I gave my life to you
I lay my life on the line for you
And this is how i received my pay
In disloyalty, double cross, falseness,
In falsity, perfidy, sellout, treachery
When Emily grows up
And asks for her mother
Or says how was mom like?
I'll simply reply to her
With these heart broken words
She is abandonment, ease, lightheartedness,
Naturalness, spontaneity, unrestraint
But Emily please forgive your mother
Once again
I promise it will only make you stronger and wiser
Something that your mother never was and never will
The princess inlist
In the army academy
She's very friendly with her companions
She's a young woman with a very
Beautiful smile, a hug to her
This atmosphere of camaraderie
And making good friends is good to her
It's her naturalness that captures
The hearts of the Spaniards
She's so sweet with her army friends
She gets along with her platoon
I think Spain will have a beautiful queen, kind
Intelligent, funny, with elegance and with charisma.
Bella, this is your lover
Who wants to call his love “Bella”
Bella, your lover loves you unconditionally irrevocably……
Bella, for months he is loving you hopelessly
But was not as loyal as a lover must……
I feared that it would be so difficult to live if you would say no,
But Bella it doesn’t matter now as love has become unconditional………
Bella, I fear that what if I’m not able, to show that love, to express that for long time, after this day……….
Bella, I’m an emotional donkey who need to be taught not how to love but how to express it sometime………
So here I’m proposing you as a loyal lover must
Bella, I’m offering you a rose……..
And asking you to be mine……
Bella, I like the naturalness of your smile
Seeing you smile,
I feel like a floating boat
I feel like, I have flown from mountains to the plains
I flow irresistibly in harmony with smile flowing
Through your lips
When my Bella smile that way
She becomes darling to an angelic face
Bella, today I say that I love you……….
Be mine…………..
Bella,
Dive in the sky of love with me….
Dive in the sea of love with me….
Live in the home of love with me….
Live the “love” with me, be “the half of me”
Complete me, feel the love inside me the way I feel for you…..
***** (You are my Bella……)
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..... (Really need some thrust of silence…?)
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……………… (I mean really……..)
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Love me……
Long for me……
The way I do for you…..
Write for me…..
The way I do for you…..
Live for me……
The way I do for you……
NATURE AND YOU
On the horizon gray clouds tending towards purple black
swimming slowly breaking in spots to thin slivers of light letting the final rays of the sun break through
the mood was somber and threatening as cloudy days will be
Swans flew south to Florida
mosquitoes in late autumn were increasing and were voracious
summer flowers were dying
sure that winter was right around the corner
Squawking birds flew over head
churning waters under a houseboat
swirl in a frenzy
dogs yelp in distant open meadows
Across the pond on the other side of a water well
through the mist an elk appears as a ghostly being
I thoroughly enjoyed those evenings
feeling Nature's and your organic displays
In our beach house a dark colored cherry brown rocking chair sits
your chair…with worn spots running along the arms
sits in an empty room in our beach house
by the lake
The only thing I feel I need is you
clothed in your majestic rawness exuding the naturalness of love
and I experiencing my ardor in your aura
immersing myself in your feminine beckoning
The air was turning chilly
the morning cold air formed tears on the tree branches
I remember your warmth next to me
that was a glorious night…
But tonight…you aren’t next to me tonight…
My memory recalls the dark cherry brown rocking chair you sat in
with worn spots running along its arm exuding your sweet odor of gardenias
sits in an empty, solitary room in our beach house by the lake
a lonely solemn rocking chair with me sitting in it.