Best Unacknowledged Poems
A fire blazes behind the veil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This veil I wear
is not made of cloth
for no fabric could withstand
the incendiary passion
I command
It's self-imposed
not forced
no man's hand
would dare cover me
yet here I am
swathed in these layers...
folds of security
you see
it's easier
much easier
just to be like the rest
not a subject of discussion
or the brunt of derision
with meanings misconstrued
by the crass and the rude...
thus,
anonymity allures
I finger the veil
its threads: religious doctrine
its dye: denial
its paisley patterns: protocol
culturally appropriate
I stand:
~chaste~
silence simmering
with actions inactive
I stand: quiet, demure, serene
but my thoughts burning, unseen
and behind the veil
I smolder
passion flares through my eyes
the only indication
that I'm alive
I pass you by
another woman
unseen
unknown
unacknowledged
I pass you by
you...frivolous in your freedom
you...unappreciative of accpetance
I pass you by
and yet, inwardly I smile
warmed by inner flames
emanating from my core
I know…so much more
There's potential...
potential this woman has in store
for this I know
when the time has come
when I'm ready
it will fall away
by my own hand
unobtrusively grand
and you will see the sight
the walking, breathing delight
of the unveiled woman
confident
sublime
a woman
calmly, gracefully, purposefully
passing you by....
Eileen Manassian
This is not meant to be offense to anyone from the Islamic faith. The veil has symbolic meaning.
Hear the keyboard’s staccato concerto,
an unacknowledged music whose echo
is known intimately by dull, bored minds.
Offices, which shut out the light with blinds,
hum with rhythm as background to life’s show.
As I write …
Dreams caress my soul
With joy that comes from knowing
The delights of God’s imagination
Inspiring me to give back to this world
Pieces of my heart and soul, my hopes
The ideas that come to me on wings
Of robins, wrens and whimsical owls
Muses that mingle with melancholy
Blend together with the rich blessings
Of faith and love, feelings that delight
Enchant my mind into remembering
The call of winds which soothe me
Into reaching out to truth and grace
Merciful prose fill my mind, reflections
Flow through me, taking me into
The moments of kindness whispering
Praises into the heavens for the One
Who knows my heart’s deepest beliefs
And listens to the prayers I recite to Him
Prayers for these precious moments
When rain pours out its rich welcome
And silence sighs soothing charms, alluring
Me to listen to my heart and hear the
Beating of passionate music singing
Uplifting those who know me and see
The charity that lives inside of me
Where only God can shine His light
Warming and healing and fulfilling
Gracing me with second chances and
Inspirations discovered in the sea
The sun, moon, stars and crimson leaves
Of Autumn and summer brilliance
And spring storms – even winter loves
With it’s glittering snow falling across
The ridges of pine and forest of faith
In God’s rich and abundant pleasures
Gushing out onto the earth’s horizons
Where we can meet it with a gaze of pure
Unadulterated enchantment because we know
This is the answer to a prayer that we thought
Had gone unanswered or unacknowledged
Now, today, with the light of life flickering
On the inside, we see the hue of a silhouette
Which leaves only the cross to trace its shape
How beautiful and stunning!
And, the mere, poetess, I ?
Humbled, by my weak poetic,
rumblings!
You are a a friend, always there,
steady and true.
I realize how little, I appreciate God's
creation, so azure and bright blue!
9/20/2021
"My passion is to see poets' souls, brilliantly on fire!"... .P. Romios.
" Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world!" Percy Bysshe Shelley, romantic poet
Without us being phony politicians mucking about with pants on fire.
We cannot change things without the courage ourselves to see evil, write about it, and see it ends.
The silence is deafening as the media cheers on Communism wearing the deranged mask of Socialism.
One day, we may lose this right to be truthful as poets forever.
Stop hiding behind butterflies and flowers, as none will keep you free.
Patriots will cheer you on, do not worry about those who avoid you."
"A poet’s work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep."
— Salman Rushdie, award-winning writer
2/26/2021
~1~
Most treasures are no more than things possessed,
Unnecessary things we do not need;
And burdens too, from which we might be freed,
If only we were not so wealth-obsessed.
Yet all the while, ignoring that, we’re blessed
With treasures unacknowledged in our greed.
Our happiness might well be guaranteed
If once a basic truth could be addressed:
That even though we’re surfeited with things
Of vaunted worth, one thing’s more precious yet,
With which those other treasures can’t compare,
Whatever else our varied fortune brings:
The people we are lucky to have met,
Those loved-ones and those friends for whom we care.
"Triple Helix from the Hip"
Triple helix
stanzas
strung together
like pearls
wisdom worn
and swallowed
like a pill
sweet and
bitter
they evolve
those others
from their bad dreams
like poetry
cradling their
purity in sentences
that speak their godliness
as if they
have done no wrong
shooting nonchalantly
from the hip
killing their nemesis
silently with dark strokes
like bullets
from guns, cowboys
toting innocence
they evolve
golden
and terrible
hissing as they hymn
like sleek green
reptilians
they take cheap shots
of triple helix like rum
they breathe it in
and expel it
like steam, lit
on fire
from
their sewers
of nowhere
some kind
of contesting
baptism, immersed in
garbage
if only they could
extinguish the lesser chord
that which exists within them
but they are
oblivious to the
nature of their true self
they’re pure
without fault
condensed and sweetened
disingenuous
glowing unicorns
with very loose horns
blown, as if they’ve never
done no wrong
listing remedies
from solitary minds
that sink their fangs
and glistening smiles
into the gormless
congregation
like rattlesnakes
strange medicine men
they portend
survival
against all odds
even
death
the unacknowledged
who don’t remember
where they sit
at any table
yet,
they'll write their
way in
they are necessary
the true lost,
they are a new evolution
dripping adulation
in baptismal fonts
of dopamine
marking their
poetic vanity
on humanity
like they
crushed a
slam dunk
on sanity
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"they were human once"...
Dystopian paradise
is all life seems to be nowadays.
days pass, seasons change
boats sail to sea, a sunlight dripping
softly, caressing lapping waves.
a melody of the unacknowledged.
“POETIC JUSTICE” (VIRTUE OVER VICE)
Virtue over vice—who will pay the price
Ironic twists of fate are flawed if virtue does not equal reward
Logic needs to triumph—to beat and defeat
The tragedy of treachery that strives to cheat and repeat
Try to see outside myself and understand the eyes
To analyze, theorize, recognize and polarize
Excuse all the highs that terrorize
Unacknowledged trauma’s are like wounds that never heal
Never feel—on a constant wheel—a terrible price to pay for sin
Until at last the outside matches the justice
History written on the body—a canvas of poetry
In the end, reality, the price to pay would be too great
Too much at stake
Comfort zones obliterated, confusion reiterated
What then… the end?
Life seems slow to reach conclusion
To wait, turn back, to stop or go
To fly or dive when there is no restraint or self control
Deceit makes it hard to separate the self
Seeking truth above the easy way out
To shout, express doubt, to dropout--- burnout
Justice is tested through another’s eyes
Disguising their own lies as they spy and deny
The poetry of playing the same game
Camouflaged by another name—to shame blame and disclaim
Does virtue win the day?
Or vice have its say and inevitably stay
Does it triumph and receive reward?
Or is logic a masquerading fraud
The poetry in justice must ultimately distrust and adjust this
Lift the darkness
Make it painless, nameless and stainless
The punishment… its sword
Mysteries of Human Hairs II
Hairs, O hairs, O’ lovely ravishing hairs,
It is also a hard truth of the world and
Of our human life and air that,
Even some saints too have fallen prey,
Before your enchanting beauty and your alluring colors.
Many mighty kings have lost their crown and kingdoms,
In the ever tempting beauty of your magnetic curls and shines,
To get hold of you, O’ lovely hairs.
Kingdoms have fallen like the house of cards and
Even most powerful men of this earth,
Have lost the edge of their swards,
Before the shining, flying and mesmerizing,
Beauty of a women’s hair and its penetrating charms.
Hairs, O hairs, O’ lovely ravishing hairs,
While many have lost their life and kingdoms,
There are few such lucky lovers of hairs, as well,
Who have remained unnoticed, unacknowledged and even unseen,
Although they enjoyed and relished the beauty of your colors, and
Have felt the softness of your hanging hair locks and curls, O hairs.
What wealth and gems you hide in your treasure,
Making many men and even women,
Mad, before the lovely ravishing beauty of you, O’ Hairs.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 28th Oct 2010
Edited and rewritten on 28th March 2012
Sin Is Fun Until…
24 By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be known as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. 25 He chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. 26 He regarded disgrace for the sake of Christ as of greater value than the treasures of Egypt, because he was looking ahead to his reward. ” Heb 11:24-26 NIV
Sin Is Fun Until it binds us;
In bondage we find our souls.
No longer a choice but compulsion;
Ruin, shame and lost worthwhile goals.
Drugs and unlawful sex may be exciting,
Until they have taken their score.
The conscience is disbanded;
The frontal lobe of the brain ignored.
Right and wrong conduct unacknowledged;
Sanity and stability fades;
Sin Is Fun Until it controls us;
In lies and crime we wade.
Stealing from loved ones;
Ruining lives along the way;
Causing pain and utter ruin;
Numb, no desire to turn back or pray.
Sin Is Fun Until its season
Comes to a completion.
Death is the end result;
Hope of nothing but the 2nd resurrection.
Money all gone in pursuit of fleeting pleasure;
All friends lost because of the enemy.
Love a thing of the hazy past;
Destruction and degradation sin’s sanctuary.
Sin’s fun is a form of deception;
Satan’s tool for our eternal destruction.
Satan tempts with his own discernment;
Thousands of years of experimentation.
Don’t be tempted by pleasure for a season—
What is sin but a long term lie?
Sin Is Fun Until it bankrupts;
Controls us to destructively comply.
© Copyright 2012 Maureen LeFanue
www.maureenlefanue.com
When Passion overwhelms
Passion my weakness that tends to overpower,
as if I am living only to nurture love and hover?
Logical thoughts beating and buzzing in head,
my biggest strength, words are better unsaid !
Heart full of love pumps into my farthest cell,
yearnings sizzling hot that refuse a tranquil.
Tears from starry eyes slip like quicksilver,
life nearing end, gloom and sorrow shimmer!
Wake up, can't let my being vanish in vain,
betrayed love why am I craving to attain ?
Unaccomplished, Unacknowledged, Unsought,
can't let suffocate and blot out my thought.
Love be soft as feathers, mind strong as reins,
my strength my ideas, firmer than any chains.
Sprout and grow fast and tempestuously,
making me stand venerable conspicuously !
Written November 7th, 2014
For contest by Verlena S. Walker
Awarded HM
"The pain Of The Unseen Effort"
The weight of the world,
Upon weary shoulders,
Crushing the spirit,
As effort and energy,
Seem to vanish like vapor,
Into the silent void,
With no recognition,
In sight.
In the shadows of toil and sweat,
Lies a bitter pain,
That steals the soul's song,
And smothers the light,
Of hope and ambition,
Leaving only a shell,
Of a dream, once vibrant.
The agony of unseen effort,
Ripples through the soul,
In waves of despair,
A silent scream,
In a world that doesn't care,
The tears of frustration,
Flows like a river,
Drowning the heart,
In a sea of sorrow.
In the depths of the night,
As the world sleeps soundly,
The pain of unacknowledged toil,
Sings a forlorn song,
Of unrequited love,
For a world that fails to see,
The beauty of the unseen,
The strength of the unnoticed,
And the resilience of those,
Who labor in obscurity.
As the dawn breaks,
A new day rises,
With it, a glimmer of hope,
That perhaps this day,
In the midst of darkness,
A light begins to shine,
A flicker of recognition,
Glimpsed in the eyes of others,
A small victory,
That ignites the soul.
"Visceral"
Beyond
the invisible
a farscape
much closer
than great distance
unacknowledged
silence calls
what waits
within
to listen
something
powerful
visceral
beckons
you are not
the narrative
programmed
into you
nor responsible
for perceptions
painted over
the unread in you
silence calls
what waits
within
to listen
something
powerful
visceral
beckons
beyond
the invisible
it watches
and it listens
standing
firm in its
own light
and truth
the unacknowledged,
acknowledging
the unread
in you
beyond
the invisible
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Push the Limits” / Enigma
https://youtu.be/k1ktapNmi-s
Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi! /Enigma
https://youtu.be/jJsGtlaMm4U
Morphing through Time/Enigma.
https://youtu.be/ZntPhESIHf4
MCMXC a.D. / Enigma
https://youtu.be/T2YLLlHPO0g
They toil away
unacknowledged and unseen
working day and night
fleecing the scene
they know all your ins and outs
steadfastly collecting
everything
they can on you... Meet
The Lint Factory Inc.