Best Unabated Poems
As the evening crept in
whisper of pines unfolded slowly another story,
every single instant seemed one decade;
unknown stars above blinking endlessly,
hand in hand ,our hearts unbridled themselves
and then escaped somewhere into darkness,
old moon unveiled the amazing mountains
every tree inundated by oozing silver;
under this autumn sky
enchanted by immense beauty
our speechless,unbounded moments
as four eyes met in love once more;
unabated passion about to explode moment
into fragments of pleasure
unlimited,boundless and never ending;
we inhaled fragrance of love
unfurling like a rose every second,
I thought of the universe for a moment
even though it seemed oblivion to us.
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For David's VOW/CON contest
Contest Rules:1 original, poem on the theme of any theme 19 lines no more or less.
your poem starts with a vowel then a consonant and keep all of your vowels in alphabetical order, so the pattern will be A con E con I con O con U con A con E con I con O con U and so-on until the last word ends in the vowel 'U' .
Please use more than two or three words per line...
When tons of doom filled nights fall on your head,
hot embers glow and fires burn unabated,
you recall her last breath and wish you were dead.
In a poem's sad lines you've been castrated.
From the heavens a voice thunders dire threats
about losses and breakfasts consumed without eggs.
Fumbling about, looking to hedge your bets,
you drink your cold coffee, down to burnt dregs.
On waking you find dawn's hard hammer fell
last night's burns are reminders of strife.
You stumble and look up from the pits of Hell,
recounting the reasons why you lost your wife.
Your clock chimes out vulgar curses at you
and your house bids you leave by peals at noon.
You think of the ancient, wicked dreams, too,
as night falls with its wretched lucent moon.
You dream of hungry tigers eating your boots.
Your house is perched atop two adjoining trees.
A hunter fires; but it's not a tiger he shoots.
Your second wife cuts off your legs at the knees.
With life's blood flowing from your severed veins
your heart bemoans that you married once more.
By morning you were free from nightmare's pains
but horrid memories linger behind closed doors.
What vast burdens you bear in fear of sleep
and hollows in your mind fill quickly with dread.
When your clock strikes twelve, I hear you weep,
" Odious anguish! I wish I were dead."
Shadows dance on your walls in candle light.
Dark images of her body pressed close to you,
waltzing in your arms on a moonlit night
but she vanishes when dawn's rays break through.
Which sort of dream scars your mind with more grief?
The ones in which you're butchered; burned by fire,
or when daylight steals her away like a furtive thief?
Will your penance release you from the leeching mire...
the terror you encounter each night as you lie abed?
Foolishly, you once thought love claimed your heart.
Therein lies the angst of what you most dread...
the vexing memories in dreams that tear you apart.
Co-Written with Robert Lindley based on the original
verses he offered in the open challenge on his blog.
REVISED OCTOBER 16, 2019
New Jersey’s cloven-hoofed devil
makes his way to the jetty
beneath the blanket of twinkling stars, anguish unabated
his appetency growing stronger each day
her song rose like mist upon salty tide
creating an irresistible allure
perhaps a mermaid so fair
can be the auspicious boon he badly needs
he calls to her, certain she will listen again
as she has done so many nights before
his soul’s torment she has learned to alleviate
patiently, she clings to one boulder, waiting
for she alone can absolve him of past misdeeds
she motions for him to draw near
“Kiss me now,” she begs,
“Before anything more can go awry.”
he moves toward her, still in atrocious devil form
holding fast to the rocks as a storm approaches
perhaps this time their magical kiss
will forever end his loneliness
October 14, 2019
For John Hamilton’s “Crazy A’s” Poetry Contest
The New Jersey Historical Society provided information about the New Jersey Devil and the mermaid he is said to connect with each night by the shore.
Gather around the sacred fire, my children
Let the embers' glow spark your curiosity
as we begin on this journey together;
to the time of how things once were,
to the time of how things came to be
In the beginning,
there was no war, only peace
There was no hate, only love
Harmony existed between all things,
it was the age when the eagle flew alongside the dove
Now the eagle lived high in the cliff of a great mountain,
and the dove lived in the lush valley below
And the seasons continued unabated,
from the summer's heat to the winter's snow
Then one day as the eagle sat, perched high atop his domain,
an evil thought entered his heart,
that only he alone over everything should reign
He felt because he was the most powerful bird,
his voice should always have the final word
So he gathered the other birds together,
to have them agree to make him their chief
The falcon and the hawk said they liked the idea
The raven and the owl said lets not be so hasty
The debate went on for days,
and the eagle grew restless with each passing hour
Until the stork delivered him a message,
during one spring early morning shower
The message said that the dove and the swan,
never came to a meeting, no not once
Thus, the eagle flew down to the edge of the pond,
and asked the swan about his absence
The swan said such matters concern him not,
let he who rule, let him rule just
As for the whereabouts of the dove, the swan said
he was in a cove by the big tree with the chestnuts
The eagle went and confronted the dove,
and accused him of stalling his coronation oblation
The dove replied with a gentle reproof,
saying to go down this wicked path will divide the earth into two nations
One will love war, and the other will love peace
One will hate killing, and the other will hate mercy
One will love freedom, and the other will love slavery
One will hate healing the pain, the other will hate causing hurt and misery
The eagle got angry at what the dove had to say,
and they no longer flew together after that day
So now you know, children, the story of the eagle and the dove
Which will you choose?
Will you choose to love hate,
or choose to live the peaceful way
Will you choose to hate love,
or choose to possess the spirit of a dove
Sounds of Splendor
Some say songs soothe the savage beast
On gentle melodies I feast
Sensual pleasures increase
Swing me, sway me, elevate me
Joyful psalms can jubilate me
Your lyrics stimulate me
Rock, classical or jazz
Reggae, soul and blue grass
Music always resonated
Wind songs man has emulated
Across Earth unabated
Primitive tribes made drums and flutes
Melodies traced to early roots
Angst is quelled, anger dilutes
Harmonies reign in grace
As all cultures embrace
The beauty of song unifies
Turning enemies to allies
Play set chords or improvise
All arts bring beauty to our lives
Song styles change but music survives
So much pleasure we derive
Singing in unison
Tunes from the musician
*for Catie’s “Focus on Syllables” contest (887, 887, 66 repeated three times)
Written: January 12, 2024
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Their buzzing goes unabated
the cool air scent of lavender
in this unfathomable cosmos
where dreams are fulfilled,
a smidgeon of silver wind
utterly enthralled.
Within the icy voids of
aching and colorless hues
raven-inhabited remnants
vulnerable grays
aesthetic fog, fanciful yarns
dissipating wood smoke
whispers of winter, as dusk falls
dawn in monochrome
amidst gentle chimes
traces of an emotional waltz
oblivion is grieved in silence
a blackbird with ruby wings!
The colors of the trees
Iridescent in appearance
create a stunning scene
that is incredibly fortunate
this is a poetic domain
where lilts joyfully chortle
the trees gently move
and the dryads are overjoyed
the heart of lullabies
with brilliant opals
giving wandering spirits hope
back in their house labyrinth
Scarlet nests were seen on high boughs
romantic place where calm blooms.
With the hearth of lullabies
opals that are flaming
soul-directing the wayward.
they're back in their home maze.
nests of crimson grew snugly.
among the boughs, exalted.
a sanctuary for love.
wherever there is harmony,
exquisitely halcyon arbors
colorful tapestry with wonderful beauty
Iridescent sky with gorgeous hues
In this magical setting, dreams bloom
where nature's splendor is eternal,
calmly, trees swing, and the dryads spin.
Isn’t it ironic?
That the plague called the bubonic
Killed the man but not the rat
And did not even kill the cat
That caught and killed the guilty rat
Isn’t it ironic?
That in this age of the electronic
Ebola is running unabated
It’s deathly thirst left quite unslated
Just like the plague as earlier stated
Isn’t it ironic?
That in this age of progress so terrific
A plague is not spread by a rat
Nor by bat and not by cat
But by technology - imagine that!
Mute
but immutable.
Unmoving, unmoveable;
timeless, yet tireless.
Solitary stalwart sentinel
surveils undulating horizon.
Aberrant, achromatic clouds
pock-mark the skies, as distant
rumblings herald his adversary's
latest gambit in their age-old conflict.
The wrath of a thousand crashing,
clashing, thrashing fists batter
against the beleaguered sentry.
Ceaselessly, remorselessly,
the maelstrom assails him.
But the foundations are firm and
noble gatekeeper stands steadfast.
Single-minded of purpose, placid
custodian morphs into combatant as
his luminous, voluminous blade carves
luminescent arcs through chthonic cloak.
Tenebrous tendrils wither and dissipate,
impotent under intense lambent onslaught.
His victory is only fleeting, as vanquished
foes are summarily supplanted by more of
their ilk in a seemingly continual surge.
Again and again, over and over, tormentor
presses the attack, exploiting any weakness.
Over and over, again and again, valiant warden
repels the barrage and despatches his enemies.
And so the pattern repeats endlessly, unabated,
as these eternal opponents jostle for position
in a perpetual cycle of aggression and defence.
Until eventually, finally, ultimately, the stale-mate
is broken; when Tempest's tantrum is tamed and
Blizzard's battalions have been banished, all is calm.
Tranquillity is able to reassert herself and order has
finally been restored; at least for the foreseeable future.
Obligations fulfilled, the triumphant Guardian can now rest.
Until the need arises again, until he's called upon once more,
he will wait patiently, watch diligently, in unflagging vigilance.
Forever resolute, a beacon of sanctuary, a symbol of hope, his is a
thankless task, but the Protector of Mariners will always be needed.
-----------------------------------
(C) John C Michaels, 27 July 2017
For Eve Roper's "Lighthouse" Contest.
(1st Place)
Hashish smoke trails her
along a dusky corridor
Aka the hall of fires
where mirage chimeras unleash
Encumbered with hands splayed
her crystal ball lumens
wires ghostly apparitions
mnemonic attachments
What mystery ensues
a phantasmagoria
of horror nudging
the demonic
Sitters drenched
in profuse sweat
fainting one by one
Alas unconscious
their fate met?
Coroners couldn’t ‘ve clarified
Described as an arctic chill
bolting across the sector
through each limp body
claiming mortality
As icy temps rise
Hypothermia responsible!
for the fatality, for their demise
Latter days professing onto
recordings of a gathering that took place
confessing that a séance
performed by a mysterious woman
in a trance—was the case.
The
Moon is waxing
First quarter crescent
The beckoning begins
Nodding, gurgling
Opening realms unseen
to the naked eye
Madame
Mystic, psychic,
a beguiling storyteller
and Medium
Down in a cellar, along with a Ouija
volumes of her writings discovered
delving into société espirita
The Goldilocks of the occults
Esoteric subjects,
a burgeoning interest
Astral travels,
unexplained laws of nature,
powers latent in man
Madame channeled
ascended masters
The Voice of the Silence
The Two Paths
The Seven Portals
"gifts" from the specters
This time Madame stands
to receive between intervals
and only he is seated
Warning him of dark spirits
a dimension outside
of our physical time-space reality
shadowing, making absence
of light a necessity
To invoke them
another nod
Continues unabated
Reveal the truth!
By sacred decree, by order
Behind the phenomenon
details of schemes came to light
Denounced as Black Magic
she was no longer to fright
Marked as a fraud
it all a façade
The moon is waning
Third quarter
I watch her silhouette
and heart penetrating pulses
quiver
caressing the deepest contours of my mind
raw, full, unabated
radiating
biting amorously upon my native pine
I call her comfort
and whisper willingness
of the utmost kind
I see her
naked
taking her
places
we dare not hide
When tons of doom filled nights fall upon your head,
embers glow fierce and fires burn unabated.
Recalling her last breath and wish you were dead
in poem's last line, you've been beat and castrated.
From the heavens, a voice thunders out dire threats
about loses and late breakfasts without eggs.
Fumbling about, looking to hedge your foolish bets,
you drink your cold coffee, down to bitter, burnt dregs.
On waking you find dawns hammer truly fell.
Last nights burns are reminders of your tortured life.
You stumble and look up from pits of dark raging hell,
recounting now the true reasons you lost your wife.
Your alarm clock chimes out vulgar curses at you
and your dark house bids you leave by peals at noon.
You think of the ancient, sad wicked dreams, too,
as night falls with it's huge wretched lucent moon.
Dreaming of hungry tigers eating your new boots.
your house perched atop two tall adjoining trees.
A hunter fires; it is not a tiger that he shoots.
Second angry wife cuts your legs off at the knees
Metaphor amputations are so savagely sever.
Your spirit cries out I must flee, tiger is near.
The tiger roars with laughter, I own all your pain.
Second lioness purrs with abject contempt and disdain
Your old slaughtered heart bleating faint cries out.
Memories tainted and dreams coercing a shout.
In abyss of regret the famished tiger dines.
You struggle to cope, tree sways breaking it's vines.
What of taunting lioness who's false words defame?
Half muted stutters quivering lips murmur blame.
Muttered niceties in deep with disgust feigned.
Tiger haunting your dreams, as King it truly reigns.
Will you take a stand your courage regained?
Can you bare the cost, can you bear the pain?
Be strong take back what your past gains.
Clean the slate wipe away the shameful stains.
Climb up from the depth of hells dark pits.
Replace dawns hammer with soft cotton mitts.
Let satisfied lioness purr, hunt the raging tiger.
Be happy, be proud of regaining your swagger.
WRITTEN WITH ONE OF THE BEST POETS I KNOW.
ROBERT LINDLEY FOR THE CHALLENGE ON HIS BLOG.
THANK YOU ROBERT FOR CHOOSING TO WORK WITH ME.
Brothers killing brothers......a field of blood
sisters slaying sisters.......instead of bearing sons.
mothers ,daughters..fathers, sons
all dead and gone, kindred spirits slaughtered one by one
by the hand of those each should love.
I wonder if at the last moment they had second thoughts
Is this the way to go ..isn't there a better way?
Perhaps dialogue or patience would have been better
Less lives could have been lost ..less regrets to bear.....more hearts could have
been won.
Yet the war continues unabated..send in more troops is what we say.
Isn't there another way?
Too many orphans left.. ..uncared for and grieving
too many tears have been shed.... hearts harden.
Prisoners of war......wounded and shell shocked veterans....... physically
handicapped....mentally deranged....a terrible plight
both sides share the same fate....pain and sadness is all that's left
no one wins yet the war never ends.
Love's now a thing of the past
only anger and hatred remain
When, oh when will Peace prevail.
Storm swept seas assault the shore
Lashing out with rage unsated
Attacking with the wrath of Thor
Oceans temper unabated
Reaching out with icy hands
Fists of foam grip granite walls
Succeeding not with it's demands
Retreats to Poseidon's halls
LOTUS FOR SLOPING KNEES
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the contentment of disheveled twigs
sitting on shoulders of humming trees,
the sunlight wafting shades on meshed nets---
it is before early morning, pale always ever,
pagan and pliant as the swoon
of winged winds. after all, while village trawlers
tug the day’s haul of buttery clams,
salmon and weeds,
the river washes its feet unobserved.
even when the hills fondle the peaks
of embossed leaves, there is no time
for human leisure on the streams, not yet. not till
compass’ hours stray too long, tedious, unabated
for folk fishermen to haul the orb ropes
and slug aquatic baits in exile, washed
from sea wine that cradles trout’s liberty…
many a time, when incandescent beam
envelopes all things gentle and sunlight drifts
on lotus flowing, rowing; as clouds hover odorless
upon sloping male knees: fishermen become
the fishes darting free, finally tranquil…
content as disheveled twigs lying
on shoulders of humming trees.
,,,,,,,,……………………………………,,,,,,
© all rights reserved
Life is a dangerous struggle
Full of inconsistencies, challenges and pains
Life is not fair even to the fair skinned
The dark skinned are not faring better either
In everyone's backyard a little rain must drop
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it.
In life, even the rich also cry
The poor in pains and agonies cries ceaselessly
The middle class have no problems 'cause they never existed
The orphans on the street go bare footed and hungry
Everyone is plagued by this turbulent journey called life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it.
Life is an endless and unpleasant adventure
Ending in one phase and continues in another phase
Beggers beg and no one gives to them
Widows cry and no one hears their voice
Everyone is caught up in this crazy web called life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it
In life, the religious are not the righteous
The righteous looks rough and rugged
Unnoticed because they have no class
For long we have been in this turmoil called life
And it has promised to continue unabated, no end at sight
Whatever happens, set your goals and go for it
The smart acts smartly by running away
They cross the sea, the Mediterranean sea
Unfortunately, you can't run away from life
Run away from it here and you will meet it there
Even though we're here, I know we'll soon be there
Only if we can set our goals and go for it
Life is everywhere, has no friends, has no foes
Life rewards, reproved and reprimands
Everyone is lotted opportunities in life
And it's their responsibility to take them
The faithful pray while the unfaithful prey
Whatever you do, set your goals and go for it
Life has no end, life has no beginning
Life is an omen, the omen never lies
Life keeps everyone busy on their own lane
Though some lanes are fast, some are slow
But ultimately every vehicle gets to its destination
Only if we can just set our goals and go for it
Life cares for no one, Life is hostile
Life is an excruciating and toilsome lot
Imperfect Life preaches perfection
Unfortunately, no one needs perfection
We're all trapped in this vicious cycle called Life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it