Best Tuneless Poems
I still remember
how you were
there in the dark,
holding my
bleeding heart.
Whilst I wandered,
sleepless under
soundless spheres.
Now I search
for your starlit
symphony
that echoes,
as idyllic octaves,
from the last song
you sang for
our lost youth;
demons we fought,
when colorless dusks
abandoned me,
between tuneless
sheets of emptiness,
where citrine gold
streaked wavelets of
strawberry scented
sunrise and
amethyst sunset
composed
hibiscus hymns.
But when ink
within my soul
hides behind
pomegranate lies,
that I truly despise,
amidst crimson-clawed
chaos of cluttered
calligraphy,
crawling in silence
along cursive linings
carved in
psychedelic perianths ~
can you hear
my pleas vibrating
through unwritten lyrics,
scrawled in
seaweed green?
Some melodies need
no words nor voice,
to narrate noiseless
refrains of
endless loss,
orchestrated
from seraphic
strings—
whistling
peacock promises,
that linger
within my
violet blue veins,
coated with
helium love.
And even in
death,
you and I
will forever,
remain as
immortal kins—
like the
evening moon
and the
midnight sun,
chasing
dewberry daydreams,
fructified from sage
mint roots,
waltzing to
your perfumed
presence in
the elysian castle.
I will never stop
singing our soft
cotton serenades,
even if the blackest
of stones from the
greyest hail quartz,
dimmed the
sangria seas
that ripples deep
into the shimmering
gates of your
home above
the seven skies.
O beloved Sun, that gently warms my soul,
with soft strings of saffron and golden shine,
I write this poem with symphonic stardust,
when euphonious memories soar above
clusters of sapphire butterflies,
when rainbows reflect a glow of nostalgia.
Allow the inked verses within
these maternal veins~
remind you to close your sleepless eyes,
and listen to your evergreen heart.
Fear not the unknown that veils your vibrancy;
there’s a song that lingers amidst tuneless skies,
with every note inscribed with your dulcet name,
for I pray for you in sanguine silence…
You will always be the lyrical light
guiding me to the reveries of redolent lilies.
You are the poetic reason,
I breathe phrases of hope,
when the orchid moon melts into orchards of nothingness…
Love always and evermore,
mother….
Song of the Four Seasons 2-16-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Song of the Four Seasons
Jagged steel gray skies
Compose barren bough sculptures
Midnight days, Orion nights
White fire crystal symphonies.
Spring wriggles adagio toes,
Sunbeams thaw tuneless meadows,
Daffodils dream yellow melodies
Blossoms burst fragrant ballads.
Downbeats of summer rainstorms
Silver sonatas of moonlight
Heat rises in crescendos,
Cool waves soothe sunburns.
Scarlet scatters leafy notes,
Crisp sapphire skies motifs,
Harvest chorales of harmonies
Harbingers in orange transitions.
“What hurts the most was being close,”
remembering us as we were,
though I'm not feeling the sage moon,
nor pearl raindrops that kissed my soul.
Now I waltz to tuneless songs as~
what hurts the most was being close,
while failing syllables of love,
and “I can't find the words”to rhyme.
Maybe,”I couldn't make you see it,”
how stars in my eyes sang your name.
What hurts the most was being close,
but, drowning in your lake of lies.
“Your heart was glass, I dropped it,” so
here I swirl beneath skies of tears
forlorn memories and I, as
what hurts the most was being close.
Songs used;
1- what hurts the most was being close ~ Rascal Flatts, what hurts the most
2- but I cant find the words ~ Lady GaGa , remember us this way
3- I Couldn’t make you see it ~ Lifehouse, Blind
4- Your heart was glass, I dropped it ~ Taylor Swift, Champagne problems
Of all the songs
You seem to be
The tuneless one,
Less subtlety.
God's orchestra
Has dealt a hand—
More toneless rasp
Than golden strand.
I wonder if
You long to be
A star
In morning's reverie.
Do tears well up?
Perhaps that's why
You paddle more
Than flit and fly.
And yet…
I see you
Standing proud—
Such confidence
In every crowd.
You waddle round,
For pictures pose—
Such character
Without a nose.
You dress with style,
All brown and green.
There's pride in how
You peck and preen.
You're grounded,
Yet you float and glide.
No treetop nest—
You strut with pride.
So maybe I
Prejudged your tone—
Less violin,
More slide trombone.
In that, the panoply
Of life
Requires such confidence
Amid the strife.
To show us humans
Not to compare—
Just be yourselves,
Be fair and square.
And when life gives you
Orange sauce,
Puff out your chest…
Just stay on course.
Dear Life,
that betrayed the heart-shaped shells,
breathing colors of coral caves in slow cadence,
I’ve surfed through whirling waves of woeful rhymes,
to navigate tides of tormented tercets,
to cleanse my stained soul with briny bliss,
to illuminate the bruised blues with vibrant verses…
Yet, time revealed the fragrance of frosted farewells,
how moving minutes mourn~
the maleficent melodies of inhumane humankind,
while nurtured nature was played in sheer ignorance…
And as the last drop of ink spills~
upon the crystalline canvas of troubled turquoise,
I whisper to the moon-pearled skyline in soft rose dialects,
remember these words as my penultimate prose.
I was once inspired by the silver ring of lotus lunar;
now I struggle to carve my thoughts into coherent metaphors,
as halcyon hues of my muse refuse to collaborate and curate,
and surging currents of existence ripple with runes of rhinestone ruins,
reflecting the aching darkness of midnight musings,
for I’ve long been clothed in shades of dusk and dawn,
carrying pain in scented silence and solitude.
Tonight, I’ll forgive the sun that forgot my name,
rest my bleeding pen within the unconditional love of my beloved kin,
as I fashion a bronze casket of black daisies and withered promises,
to forever dream in lucid lilacs and lyrical lullabies.
Remember, I’ve waltzed through the weary wilderness,
danced beneath dwelling dreariness,
now preparing to set sail upon seraphic realms of eternal serenity,
where everlasting evergreens of Eden~
shall calm the chaos within my eclipsed psyche.
There the wind shall steer my silhouette to where she belongs,
a meadow of jasmines and dahlias,
emanating thirty-nine twists and turns of tuneless memories...
The sweet sweat chorus of forgotten voices
Bared and marred by torrents of ugly vices
The agonies of today seemed to know an alien song
Memories of yesterday was singing but out of beat
Soon the pains of tomorrow will certainly dance
To the agonizing rhythms composed in an orthodox club
‘cos our battered mnemonic ear of age long pauperism
Has being spent listening to that tuneless song
Sung as a song to the scribe of our soulless soul
Hopes capsized again in the waters of the once true church
The canopy gatherings of the great bi-colored religion
Where we know we would find our salvation
In the musty bibles where there were ghosts
On every page and death on both cold covers
This black Jesuit, our bullying gold rimed priest
Whose communion we daily upon starving feast
In a healing ceremony whose cure could be death
And our efforts useless as a spare prick at a wedding
But this golden chorus of forgotten voices unforgotten
We will sing even if the lyrics were written in purgatory
And composed inside the furnace of the nine hells
This will not quite have Angels for stanzas
To celebrate your lose lips that sink our ships
With Aryan salutes to secrets once moaned
In a Nazi torments on the desert winds.
She said --- my skin is singing
Night air tangos with your kiss
There’s Hispanic heartbeats raging--
Conducted by our bliss
He said--my heart is racing
For the next dance yet to come
As tomorrow’s chasing
To beat a mighty drum
She said-- my eyes are blazing
Toward colors still unknown
Their pulsing is amazing
Wild visions rarely shown
He yawned and said --Sweet Darling
Let’s hold each other tight
Contemplate in silence
Our most romantic night
She yearned for all night talking
To delve his inner mind
But wisely kissed his ear good night--
To bask in love sublime.
From claggy Bedders and Hornets hump,
From Cordell, Laws and Radar.
We trundle merry like a thump
To see Fab Adies sock.
In hoodie cloves and clippy breeze;
In Disco Dave we pledge.
I chortle like a tuneless wheeze
To see Bad Adie rock!
On Kunterblanche we make our name,
A pallet one and all,
Then Turb into myself again
To see Mad Adies frock.
I deem it important to attend church for my spiritual maturation.
I really savor the fellowship of a loving and caring congregation.
I especially relish the potluck suppers and other social interactions,
But even in this worshipful scenario, there are bound to be distractions!
Now, I don't mind the preacher pounding his pulpit to gain attention,
Or the occasional "amen" from a dear sister for her comprehension,
But that feller across the aisle who always sings off-key and out of tune,
Sounds like a murder of cranky crows or an out of sync bassoon!
I thrill at a great rendition of "How Great Thou Art" by the choir,
And the crescendo of the organ as it grows higher and higher.
Even the woman belting out her mezzo-contralto doesn't bother me so,
But that feller across the aisle who murders "Amazing Grace" has got to go!
I can tolerate little children who holler and scream now and then,
Or the occasional raucous ringing of a cellphone now and again,
But I approach congregational singing with little or no anticipation,
When that feller across the aisle brays, "The Churches One Foundation!"
I don't mind the snoring of the guy who occupies the pew behind me,
And I can abide the pastor's profound homilies to a certain degree.
But how I dread to hear that feller's odious and tuneless strain!
(I suppose I could move to another pew to ease my Sabbath bane!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Now kicked off the warm spot on the bed where I had been
it's time to watch my owner going through his dawn routine.
Mouth wide in a quiet miaow, I can almost see his supper
Brown stain dribble on his chin from that last midnight cuppa.
Limbs stretched out to form a star, claws clenched then slowly flexing,
eyes blink, lips smack in concert , it all seems to me perplexing.
Comes off the bed at right angles, half stumbling half rolling
puts on two covers for his paws and one has a big hole in.
Pulls up the outside skin over his legs and bum as well
don't know what for – it doesn't stop that noise and funny smell.
Top skin now on, one button wrong, it's twisted at the neck
and finally his outer paws in gruesome tartan check.
Walks slowly to the little room, that noise comes out the back
for animals with a nose like mine, he's so easy to track.
Door shuts, more noise then water splashing, then electric hum
all accompanied by tuneless 'dum-ti-dum-ti-dum'
Finally he waddles out and smiles, expects applause?
Not from me, mate, I'm spruced up from just using my paws.
Now wide alert he bounds downstairs, an energetic new man,
Stuff all of that, it's too much grief-
who'd want to be a human?
As a Storm Rages Past
Rabble rouser, a spring storm lets out a golden shaft
that pierces through the sky and with a loud clash,
rousing me from peaceful slumber, shatters the night.
The house heaves and sighs a powerless response
but I fear no storm, dread no tempest, and defiant
I clamor inside: ‘Let my heart sleep storm, sad flames
you will no longer stoke!’ Nothing though will still the
unsettling rumble that thunders now deep within
the cavern of my mind for a ghost I clasp and tuneless
it sings of love. But then I hear music’s many strings
pulling at my heart that rejoices knowing it may
no longer fly high on the wings of love but it will
drink from melodies that peace and joy bring.
So scat storm!
Your time is done!
And I hear its low rumble as it gently growls away.<>
Electric Mosquito Bat
Reached out for my windbreaker jacket, lifted it off its peg…
Slipped my left hand into the left sleeve to be followed by my right…
My mind was ever so clear, my heart ever so light, for tonight I strike back..
Selfconsciously I smirked a grin, for tonight, The Empire Strikes Back…
The other family members, they are all engrossed with the TV in the living room…
Some silly local production drama, lots of overacting and tears aplenty to flood a room…
That was not for me, I have a higher mission to answer for this cannot wait…
Tonight I begin a mission with my newly gifted rechargeable electric mosquito bat….
It has been fully charged, I had timed it to perfection by my alarm clock....
Luke Skywalker, even Hans Solo , eat your hearts out for I have this sword…
It is electric, fully charged, it is lethal upon touch, mosquitoes and flying insects are cinders…
No, I do not have to swat nor strike out, I only need to wave it about to destroy all insects…
Furtively I stole a look into the living room, then turned back and flicked softly a light switch…
The lone bulb flared instantly and bathed the patio outside the kitchen in soft yellowish light…
As I leaned forward to peer through panel window in the back door, mentally I smiled again,
Now out there, in that patio, yours truly and this electric mosquito bat, we‘ll do battle to win..
Left hand grasping my electric mosquito bat, my right hand grasped the kitchen door knob…
There was a soft click as I slowly pulled open the wooden door, the battlefield beyond beckoned…
My heart was light, a silly tuneless humming still on my lips as I eagerly stepped forward…
Flying insects by the hundreds are mine to slay, the thrill and body counts will be my rewards…
Hey, who left the back patio light on?
Grandad, why are you out here? Better get inside before you catch a cold!!
@#$$#@!!
FROSTY DAY IN THE CITY
Wetless day, birdless trees,
Witless denizens of metropolis
Long await the bus into
The delights of Manchester.
Townless bus waiters -
Their earphones are essential
For Deaf Man’s Buff -
Tuneless music.
A Lover’s grief
I was, all alone, in the life,
Passing my worthless time,
You came and sat by me
My heart did a worthy crime.
I thought of you, days and nights,
Planned with you, shades and lights,
My heart felt promising you,
My beloved guest, in all tough moments,
Please trust on this caring host,
I will be there to think of you.
Then we met, again and again,
Just to make, our bonds strong,
It seemed, as if, my tuneless life,
Started humming, a lovely song,
Those moments were such sweet and cute,
I forgot, that life’s character, is to be brute,
You shared your sorrows with me,
I assured you, don’t worry, my dear!
Whether, it be spring or frost,
I am there to think of you.
In midway, you left my hand,
Invisible, were the ways for me,
Timeless, were my lengthy nights,
Hazy, were the days for me.
The last dry leaf of autumn that year,
Got wet of my despaired eye’s tear,
When you held someone else’s hand,
Desolated me, rejected me, and my dreams,
And said “get lost”,
I were there to think of you.