Best Unanticipated Poems


Graceful Movement of Silence


The leaf of my love fell
in quiet autumn silence
Slowly descending 
from the swaying limb
of unanticipated romantic tremors
Caught off balance was
my sense of equlibrium
Shaken by the sight
of a canvas beauty come to life,
I was shook loose from my branch 
of librarian solitude
And the twirling leaf of my love
fell so softly into the lap of her open book ... 
as she turned the page silently
Thinking,
contemplating ...
She wrote a beautiful passage
in her diary
about me entering her life
with quiet grace
Describing me as a brightly
burnished leaf with the markings
of a tiger lily butterfly,
she said I floated by her 
nearly unnoticed — 
Until she had to turn the page 
of her life
And a slight, silent gust from the 
wind of change
caused me to quietly fall into her view

Premium Member Soul's Cry

Marooned on the island of loneliness
Shadows of delusion confront me
In a stormy sea, I got shipwrecked
And the sea has robbed everything from me
What unanticipated change comes over
When people let you down
What a shocking realization it is
To know that there is nobody around to care.

On coming face to face, will anyone acknowledge me 
Or will a happy smile light upon any face?

I am now a drying brook
That once has been a river in spate
A deflated balloon unable to soar high
A blind bird that cannot see a dawn
Nor sing a song to wake the sleeping world

My scars are like deep cuts
On an ill-maintained tarmac road
I sleep in endless weariness, 
And grope among dark spaces

I vacantly look into the far horizon
When the broken shards of moonlight
Paint pictures of dark demons around me

Like a bird that with nightfall
Returns to a tree to call out its solitude to the stars
I sit here alone,
Alone, alone,
Not knowing to whom I shall call out!

Will the stars keep me company?

Tomorrow, should I go into exile or wake up
With the hope that my pain will go into remission
And my soul’s cry will be heard by some attentive ears!

Or will my frozen inside thaw by itself in time?

Stopping the Dance

As quiet blackness deepened
I lay awake my heart in check,
The cool night wind blew
And welcome silence grew…
_______

Unanticipated music exploded
Roused me from bed rest, 
I tiptoed to its source:
Dark sounds from downstairs, 
Nearer, higher, and louder 
Till it reached the hallway.
He grasped my hand, 
Whirled it to turn me twice, 
Held me close, went on trotting steps
Slow, quick, quick; slow, quick, quick;
Slow, slow, quick, quick...
He never gets tired, he liked the dance.
He led; I followed - his greatest joy;
In perfect timing to his bidding, 
I swayed wherever he flung me,
His steps were full of variation – 
He liked it that way;
While I only had one reaction – 
Receive his urgings.
Perfect dance he'd always say because 
It is with such ease when partner is open
That controlled movement is played.
Ungraceful dance I never liked, 
But all this time it kept me alive:
His music and diverse steps I sought
And to it I humbly swayed.
Tonight I let him led again, 
Just like the other days and nights.
The darkness of the night was strained, 
It was only the curtains that were swaying, 
To the night breeze with grace,
Stark of light peeped out from the room,
My hands and feet went frozen like ice,
I heard a different tune within, sad, weary,
But slowly roused with excitement
And anger underneath... Heated me up
Ablaze, my eyes red-stained -
He held me closer to him, and I -
Pulled myself too tight to him
He was pleased I saw it in his sated eyes 
As I meekly submitted… for the last time.

We did slow, quick, quick steps for a two 
Or more and then he let me go; I trotted
Far away from him then back to him
Without his behest, and out of rhythm
His steps were outside our dance floor…
Down the stairs...In open position he lay there, 
In his face I saw his dance - the macabre 
dance - I never liked at all. His eyes dazed –
He had his final dance with me after all. 

_____

The night was cold, yet I felt warm, and the music gone,
The curtains stopped swaying at the night winds’ prodding.

-maria
8/11/14


What Youth Needs To Know

Life is a lesson you learn it as you live 
a schools education is given to a kid 
getting Grade A papers, isn’t that splendid 
but you’re a human being and that means you are stupid 

Understanding logic and the patterns in the brain 
but some people are toxic in these ways we can’t explain 
knowing educated logic and behaviours aren’t the same 
you can’t predict the people who are out to cause you pain 
you’ll never know what rules are used when forced to play their game 
things are unexpected in such ways we cannot train 
at school you might be clever but this life drives you insane 

people do what people do when desperate for a win 
the unanticipated move you perceive to be a sin 
it will cause frustration and your patience will wear thin 
when these people go at you they’ll get right under your skin 

when there’s no one you can tell then it is down to you 
don’t think your education tells you what you need to do 
wisdom comes with age learning what you never knew 
things the young have never done as they’ve not needed too 
so take in what your elders say the things they have been through 
because they’ve been where you are right now, yes they were young like you 
trust me they’ve seen this before and know just what to do 
they will point you in a way that you just never knew 
one day you will be older and will help somebody too 

But while you’re young trust me you’re dumb and haven’t got a clue 
because true education is from life you’ve not been through 
there is no test nor text book there’s no way you can prepare 
for what you’ll know when you are old when you have lost your hair
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.

To My Dad

I’ve always called on dad when a problem arises.
I know he can fix it and deal with unanticipated surprises.
Some how, some way he always manage to save the day
But occasionally the problem gets bigger along the way
He will try and he’ll think, but no solution comes to sight.
Then he gives up, only to come back with all his might

And when the day is done and work hours gone
And the thing still isn’t fixed-the war is on.
That problem won’t last when he is in battle mode
He will overcome obstacles and win the gold.
Bad catalytic converters to broken windows
Is there something he can’t fix? Nobody knows!

That’s not the reason I love him, I’d love him anyway.
He’s the best, he’s the greatest, what more can I say.
He’s all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever had
He’s the irreplaceable Big Kahuna and he’s my dad.

Premium Member A Perfect Murder Scene




"A Perfect Murder Scene"

underneath the gun metal clouds 
two bodies imprinted 
splayed bookmarked at the waterline

uncannily close
distance would never separate that twin set
the ocean of tears washing over them lachrymose

the day was extraordinarily ordinary
yet the unanticipated came rushing in surprising
two lives captured, seemingly drowned

carried away on the rip, ripped apart, far from shore
thrown for the risk of running 
away from it all 

eventually like double dice
the Ocean like a roiling bitter life 
spits them both back out, not wanting them, 

they are the gamble

rolled back in on the wake, washed clean
like a scene wound backwards
scratched and mottled, 8mm frame

slow motion the prostrate dead they rise like ghosts
wound up, holding hands walking backwards
up the sand dunes 

not a care in the world 
the guns in the clouds all gone
the sun now shining 

reversing down the path, hand in hand,
an old movie to who knows where 
smiles wide and laughing, hand in hand

the woman and child

out of frame, in the margin unseen,
the murderer plays his shot
all over again, he loves his bad dream



Candide Diderot. ‘24 



“Because it was regular film, it was Light sensitive. You had to be very careful when loading and unloading the cartridge.”







scene.
seen.


Premium Member The Counting House Hammer

In the Orient it's called Karma,an inescapable butcher of beasts continuously chopping,slicing & trimming the meat of our mentalities,precisely weighed,
 
Occidentally the official judge of justice is commonly greeted as God,punisher of aggravated appetites,gatekeeper to the blissful & blightful kingdoms,

perhaps there are astral accountants tabulating spiritual treasures of ours,scribing with blood & bones,celestial lawyers indicting us on ancient legalities,

no action eludes the energy of Nature's ear & eye,to sing with no voice or weep with no tears is to try & erase facts from flesh,removing silt from river,

sometimes good fortune arrives in our awry lives,unanticipated & unsolicited like dreams of victory teaching us its possible to outdo the odds,dance on defeats,

however,recompense is irrevocably required by the Divine source as agony is requisite for birth,a timeless tax that gives everything a welcome worth,a value,

a mother who delivers a deformed child,small business owner increasing sales,a professor thats worshiped,pastor of an indigent church,self content poor man,

the purse of Providence is heavy & organic like a full belly always digesting,making space for more & more charity & confiscation,smote with a kiss,

a balance of thefts & rewards,lies that give loss,love that provides learning,poverty that lends perspective,sorrow sowing strength,profits producing paranoia,

justice is a blacksmith that will heat you & cool you,strike you & smooth you,shape you into something appropriate for your properties,polish your planes -

J.A.B.  2010

Premium Member There Is a Presence To a Sunday Morning

There is a presence to a Sunday morning,
an ease.  People waiting on line for their
coffee seem more animated, less agitated,
friendlier….almost chatty.  The traffic seems
to get along better too.  No schedules demand
cut throat tactics to beat the next red light.
School buses, along with their riders, are
tucked away for the weekend.  The hum of
the tires on the pavement seems almost
musical, soothing, in a movingstillness
kind of way.  Joggers seem more relaxed,
their dogs less pressured to “get it done”.
Ducks idly talk to their shadows.  Church
bells chime more jubilantly echoing over 
the breaking day.  We sit.  Two old men
sipping hot coffee.  Reveling in the present,
reminiscing about the past, in no hurry
for the future.  An elderly woman ambles
past, smiling at the blowing leaves,
shuffling her feet in mock childhood frolic.
Cyclists relax into a near traffic-less rhythm
of wheels, spokes, gears - grinning into the
chill breeze of November.  The firehouse
doors are open, the firefighters resting
between rounds, trucks sitting idle in
the bays, hoses rolled and ready.  Two
squirrels play tag in front of a blue house
disappearing into piles of leaves only
to re-emerge atop a fence post.  A grey
and white cat lays motionless nearby.
There is no rush to the cadence of the
churchgoers.  It appears they may have
already entered into the day’s prayer.
A gentle sense of unanticipated hope
pervades the subtleties of life.
There is a presence to a Sunday morning.


John g. Lawless
11/8/2015

Stardate 24-13 Point 6

January 8th, I am guessing. It is a Friday. 

No. It is Saturday, as midnight has already passed.

I have been trapped inside myself. How long? 

It’s been an outpatient process.  

Some days I am locked in, 

others I have leave and can mingle within 

the world quite normal. 

As of late, more than not,

more often during the hours which turn into days, 

and weeks gone by. 

Here I sit, within my own being, 

not knowing quite, what isn’t right.

So in the search of 

meaningful thought, 

genuine affection to the topic at hand, 

a raw and real, unclothed, unanticipated, unexpected…

I wholly embrace,

   I crave. And when this is the case, 

I shall be fully engaged.

Let us not banter 

anymore of the things 

we cannot change. 

Let us move forward 

into the fullness of life.


August 19th, 2013 Lori Hopkins  "STAR WARS RULES"
For the Star Wars Contest

Unanticipated

I’ve been patient 
I’ve sat here,
And waited.
I’ve given you the best of all my tomorrows.
The thing is..
I haven’t even met you yet. 
And I wait here, 
A fool. The hopeless romantic.
For the girl I may never get. 
Who some say, doesn’t even exist.
Maybe you do,
Maybe you don’t,
But, all I know.. 
Is that I would walk into the abyss, with no sense of direction,
For a chance to love you.

Optimistic

Optimistic!!

Optimistic…should I still be optimistic?
No matter how much I get pain,
No one cares how much it rains, 
Just passing time remembering the gains.

Should I still be optimistic?
Miserable life, vulnerable pride, feeling like a corpse inside home,
No one is around to share, for care or to admire.
Lonely, too abandoned life.
What is left to feel it fine?
Still trying to feel energetic.

Lost all companions, all fame, colors and fumes of life.
This journey of my existence is strange, with nothing occupied.
Just floating on air, doing infertile chores and -
Glaring at the chess board thrice.
I achieved all unanticipated things; name, fame and grade,
Roamed around the productive world; won, but lost all in no time.

My expectations are remained unnoticed
Non explicable to ordinary.
I felt thirsty for water years after years,
They brought me wine;
I wanted to touch rain water,
They took me to ocean.


Ocean is not desirable to me
She is enormous, too speedy to stay back and listen to me.
I can’t imagine her to be my best pal,
I’d rather prefer the romance-lake, as it is affordable.
What man needs, doesn’t get it exactly
Whatever he gets, should love that madly.

So, what is next? I’m trying to feel happy,
Grasping whatever I’m blessed with spontaneously;
Life is one; don’t dare to lose it imprecisely.
I am optimistic, would nurse my soul to stay vigorously.

A Newfound Horror

I am
Dark...evil...mischevious.
I like to cause
Havoc...destruction...fear.
I am
Invisible...quiet..stealthy.
I go
Unoticed...unheard...unanticipated
I attack the
Young...weak...nieve
I look just like
you...your friends...your family
I walk among the 
people you know....people you like...people you hate
I act
normal...sane...innocent

You think 
I am 
nice...friendly...cheerful
You think
I like
humans...animals...children
You think 
My activities are
Singing...dancing...laughing
You think
I have
Wings...I am small...I am helpless
You think I am 
Beautiful...nice...helpful
 
I am actually
Beautiful...deadly...predatory
I can make men...
Fall in love...do my every bidding...go mad
What am I?
A faery

Moon Mysteries

Continuously wandering down the jagged concrete stairs.     
	My nomadic ways lead me to unanticipated adventures. 
The almost infinite stairs decease to somber stars and immeasurable waters. 
 	I stride towards the perimeter, sensation of the bitter waves leads to a chill. 

A shadow approaches, closer and closer, swimming gracefully along the timid waves. 
Without thought I reach into the darkness, grabbing a hold of cold metal. 
Wooden with trim of brass, I step into the diminutive boat. 
Soaring along the abyss, watching the stars overtake the sky.

Open waters diminish, trees of vibrant emerald and jade droop over my head.
	Lifeless body of water now filled with serene voices and playful motions. 
Almost missing the silence, it almost immediately reappears. 
	Back to never ending waters, though this time I’m not lost in an abyss.

Unlike before the water illuminates my dreams and aspirations.  
	My demeanor is destroyed to be rebuilt again. 
Peace and serenity flow through my veins allowing my heart to beat slowly. 
	Eyes locked on the crater filled orb illuminating the sky.  

                     09/08/13

Premium Member Marriage Is

Marriage is not an anachronism
  Marriage is a bond

Marriage is not a calypso
  It is a marathon

Marriage is not a gentle breeze
  Nor is it pristine
    Marriage is a choppy sea
      Above a listing submarine

Marriage is not a pretty toy
  Nor is it a fancy poodle
    Marriage is frozen TV dinners
      Topped off with mystery noodles

Marriage is not just "I Love You"
  Nor is it eternal romance
    Marriage is a power outage
       Sweaty T-shirt, crawling pants  

Yet for all the unanticipated things that marriage isn't  
   And all the disappointing things it is  
     I wouldn't have it any other way
       ~ One towel Hers, the other His

Mini Drama: Sturmabteilung 4

The employee took out these pizzas and put them on desks at the hall. No sooner had the pizzas popped into the gofers' eyesights than seething salivas (imaginary or real) bursted out of their mouths, and subsequent scenes were a vivid illustration of how these mostly duplicitous gofers actually preferred adversaries' cold comfort to their own leader's hot air, exactly through their relinquishment of proper positions one after another in a short while. Miraculously, throughout the corridor, both up and down the stairs, all around the SCIF site, pervasive predominance was handed over by previous hustling, hectoring, harangue and huffishness to straightaway slurp, maundering, digression and dissipation. 

Uptight mobile devices, boldly swayed and swirled by their respective handlers as flagrant confidentiality solicitors, shifted their universal characteristics from fussy flash and light to monotonous darkness and dormancy before slipping back into each pocket, together with carefully or cursorily recorded footages. The storm receded so fast that Hauptman Mutt Gaets could find favor with no timely niche to set in any redemptive steps. He turned to preparations for media slot instead, in hope of smoothing out the unanticipated anticlimax.

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