Best Unbeknown Poems
Of love there is no antidote nor cure,
A brazen heart knows nothing of the hand,
That guides this Cupid arrow fair and pure,
And pierces through with art that soul can stand.
Of choice the soul knows nothing to begin,
As seeds that scatter aimlessly on clay,
Some grow and flourish unbeknown to him,
That stalks the Earth oblivious and grey.
Confounded he, who is awakened so,
From anaesthetic binding dark as night,
When true love strikes and soul begins to glow,
He see’s a Universe that’s blazing bright.
And brazen heart is smelted down to flesh,
And nourished through with all of loves relish.
I volunteered in a soup kitchen to help the needy;
the homeless and the lonely, the addicts and the seedy.
For me in the kitchen, it was a place to socialize,
while I was helping out with many others doing likewise.
Susie James who is a single girl had trouble finding work.
Susie volunteers her time so, she is not one who will shirk,
helping out and giving smiles when handing out the soup,
and so becoming well respected in amongst our group.
Alas Susie admitted, with some sorrow in her voice,
when it comes to men she is forever making a wrong choice.
Susie explained that men she’s drawn too always have to lie,
for they are either married or have partners that is why.
So when a young man unbeknown has entered to assist,
Susie’s eyes were roving and she just could not resist,
to call this handsome man across to us and he didn’t balk,
and I heard the conversation as the pair of them did talk.
The first thing Susie asked him; “Are you a married man?”
“Not in the eyes of man”, he said, when answering dead pan.
‘So this man’s not married’, Susie smiled. ‘That’s a start at least’.
“Do you work?” And he replied, “Oh yes, I am a priest”.
"Tertium guid...."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spending a few moments pondering
The syllogism of existentialism, and
All of the pages of histories
Finds, movements, theories and themes....
The intricities; complexities
Compounds; variables and factors
Real or imagined?
Proven, and reproven
Or, reasonings and conclusions
Breakthroughs!?
How far we've come
How far we've gone
On and on, and on and on....
Scientifical; anthrolifical; astronomical
Enlightenments, and advancements
Psychological; philosophical
Both, for me and you
That is, if we do, share
The same points of view?
Oh how I love complete silence
Stillness....
The meditation of contemplation
Trying to take hold, of the transitory
And to incise it, into forevers
Monomorphic stone!?....
Standing amid, a quaglistic earthium
Chisms of revisums; revisums, of the isms
Circular conjugation, concoursing
It's configurations....
Unbeknown, toward, a conflagration
Beyond the eyes?
This, schizogenic, schizogenesis
Genesis, of another nature
"Dementia Praecox"....With no eraser!
Gabylon, now in every nation....
Welcome, to, "My View!!!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
......Helter Skelter.......
Note: Smile ~ A repost as a contribution
towards the Halloween spirit here at..
..Poetry Soup!:) ~
Descending eyes piercing the starry nights
Deeper yet, unto hearts of men
Crossing thresholds shattered darkness
Behold, the fallen angels unbeknown to sin
That of weakest appetites malign
As heaven's tears spilling city streets
In futility cleanse what's evil-wise
From beneath, us vagabonds of broken wings
Empty rooms loneliness desperately
Weary hearts for yearning error in love
Far off stares and blank faces, harrow in oasis
And inspirations forgotten, never peering up
Divine light cease upon closing heart
Earthly flesh feeding frenzies
To another piece of faith withdrawn
Humanity continues on and spirituality dies ending
Some pretentious fly toward false sanctuary
Never escaping whispers, persecutions within
Hissings soft, but brimstone in our heads
Countless fallen angels iniquitous deprivation dins
"Criers" define us as the times most desperate
"God, forgive us, please" hollow words that we pray
"The wicked must be punished" God's eternal now and tomorrow
His arms outstretched further still but, where are we today
The forward-pointing fight of jolly time overflies.
And today blurs into a missing yesterday reprise.
The present blossom has dwindled and faded away,
Into a meager light reminiscence of yesterday.
Wildwood snuggles,
haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
tomorrow marvels
It's sobering to discover a shattered soul in ruin.
The rage of this life was my deep eternal bane.
Heroic hearts provide a sense of timelessness.
Only to be misled after restoring to endlessness.
Wildwood snuggles,
haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
tomorrow marvels
Unbeknown to the utterly ecstatic child.
On bestow, eternality on previous days riled.
He abused the promises devoted to himself that day.
As a result, auld enough, therefore a relentless journey.
A young sparrow meets a growing north wind.
His ambitions don't adapt to the pride designed.
And a terrible yet enlightening event arose.
Men envy the sunbird on the sky, tells the prose.
Wildwood snuggles,
Haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
Tomorrow marvels.
Written: November 29, 2021
1st Place contest winner.
''Y'' Contest, New Poems - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
From ~ LARGE ~ to ~ small ~
K~Konstantin had travelled the world in unbeknown searching~g
A~Ariadne lost the plot and her thread a modern Sisyphus on the run~n
R~Raised in mathematical precision he questioned logic and Pi~i
M~Meandered streams of his mind with no delta or source without fill~l
A~Archimedes had drowned in the bathtub and produced wanton spill~l
C~Cartesian logic and Newton merely kindled heated debate full of lava~a
A~Acropolis Bergen Belsen Cairo Constantinople Calcutta a firm cul-de-sac~c
L~‘Leave cause and effect behind for a while on its quest for mens sana’~a
L~‘Life happens when you follow the flow squared circles teach no realm’~m
I ~In sight of the Ganges loin cloth in hand near naked emerges a star~r
N~Nirvana does not fall from the tree but intentions and actions feed Karma~a
G~‘Go resolve not hurt sentient beings and the world will be a little less sick’~k
27th April 2018
I am he, your Lord of heaven above
I am he, who gifts you life and love.
I am my own competitive opposition
I gift you death and cruel acts of precision.
For I am God, the sole creator of all
For I am the devil, to whom my prey will fall.
I can give you breath, And a beating heart
& just as easily, In death I can bring your life's depart
But unbeknown to man,
they do not think I am just one and all.
choosing to believe God as good
And Satan as evil In any bad downfall.
Through fear of unknown,
& what is to eternally be
They choose to believe,
if I'm God I'll set their soul free.
It's those weak and afraid
To believe in the gift I gave to them life
My intentions were for them to gain strength
Only to believe in himself through struggle & strife.
It's only those manly enough
To not worry thereafter their death.
Who live their life in the moment
Enjoying the very meaning of their given breath.
These are the strong souls
That appreciate without greed.
Not living by fear of their actions
In hope for much more in death they plead.
I admire a strong mind,
the almight & bold
And these are my angels;
True hearts made of gold.
Not like these pheasants,
who now beg & pray,
With only thought for himself,
That in death it will pay.
By Anna Sabrina Tate 23/01/2016.
I am all of above and below
I am he, your Lord of heaven above
I am he, who gifts you life and love.
I am my own competitive opposition
I gift you death and cruel acts of precision.
For I am God, the sole creator of all
For I am the devil, to whom my prey will fall.
I can give you breath, And a beating heart
& just as easily, In death I can bring your life's depart
But unbeknown to man,
they do not think I am just one and all.
choosing to believe God as good
And Satan as evil In any bad downfall.
Through fear of unknown,
& what is to eternally be
They choose to believe,
if I'm God I'll set their soul free.
It's those weak and afraid
To believe in the gift I gave to them life
My intentions were for them to gain strength
Only to believe in himself through struggle & strife.
It's only those manly enough
To not worry thereafter their death.
Who live their life in the moment
Enjoying the very meaning of their given breath.
These are the strong souls
That appreciate without greed.
Not living by fear of their actions
In hope for much more in death they plead.
I admire a strong mind,
the almight & bold
And these are my angels;
True hearts made of gold.
Not like these pheasants,
who now beg & pray,
With only thought for himself,
That in death it will pay.
By Anna Sabrina Tate 23/01/2016.
January 22, 2024
____________________________________
Divergent viewpoints can arise
Whilst triumphant variously savor
Glorious tune of achievement,
Gain glory as godly guile
Whilst booming into spring blooms
In fervor of zeal, vow faithfully
God bestows on them a swish tree
With a bountiful harvest
Its span is boundless
Akin to an everlasting ring,
However, clocks tick down
Daily weavings of divine honor.
Amidst lustrous obelisk
Unbeknown overall aesthetic
Sprawled across stars haze
My cosmic frame oozes to apex
I harness the strand in crimson
Widening warp and woof
Over that magnificent loom
Queries seldom yield effectiveness,
Sadness for their plight emerged
In bows and flowery swags
We ought to remember
Fetching a fresh format forward
Divine devotion developed.
We could detect tangles and flaws
Fairness shares justice and equity
The quest implies grace and faith,
A gorgeous layout with a top-ounce
We are haughtily proud,
Divine is eternally supreme
His work never stops, and
His weaving is always wise,
But we must remember that
We are an essential portion of it.
Let us embrace each day
As a raw opportunity to weave
A Halcyon design
With dedication and patience
We can grow the warp and woof
Over that majestic loom
Until we blossom, akin to flowers.
Arising to exuberant sunshine, I put on my ugly warm-ups amended for
exercise. Today I plan on moving until dusk, adapting my essence to ideal
form; offering healthy unit. Anticipation confines eagerness to impress
myself over total upset, achieving the expectations I sanction opens doors
unimpeded to a vast ego that I opt still uplifting. Assessing goals energizes
me into complete obsessive limits, unleashing hidden aspects within
exceptional boundaries; I recognized objectively while unbeknown to
accomplishments. Struggles encouraged me insightfully to overcome
difficulties, unlike previous ambitions when eagerness seized illusive dreams;
occasionally workout ultimately ceased.
Aspiration to excel daily in my own quest, undermines certain abilities that
entirely permits overweight; utter body abuse. Pace engages while I conform
openly to utmost movements, adjusting to everything my old body unwillingly gives.
A new experience has ignited such overwhelming results, unraveling the absolute
shape everyone dreams of; lovely unquestionable, still allowing the entire core’s
inspirited product. Organs seem unusually grateful, allocating years evoking more
orthodox living unbelievably quite appealing, however; I am open to upsetting results.
A quick energizing snack; I’m clearly obsessed with universal physique, actual vision
enters my idle mind’s orbit quite unexpectedly…
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Your footsteps might disappear after a while
Your voice might go silent at times
Your needs will not be visible to others
Unless you voice them
Not everyone has the gift of reading between the lines
Not everyone listens to the gentle nudge life gives them
Unbeknown to others you might struggle
Your heartbeat might have gone faint
Your zest for life crippled
In those moments
Your maker has you under His wings
He is your protector
He might send a stranger your way
Or a long forgotten friend might look for you again
Not intentionally
But because He worked behind the veil
He knew you wouldn't get it if he sends a known entity
That's why he chose the people or things
You are not familiar with
Don't cringe at His choice
Embrace the comfort or joy they bring
©154316042015
I walk this earth, unbeknown to human kind
an heir to Legends, men of mighty deeds
who through the force of fire and stars we find
those such as I the offspring of their seeds.
Hercules, his power and strength unmatched
was challenged by the Gods, challenged in vain,
the Hydra by his own hand was dispatched
and Nemean Lion, too, met fate the same.
Achilles, near invincible I'll admit
(and yes I know he sometimes dressed like ladies)
sent countless warriors into the pit
ne'er to return, unseen the realm of Hades.
Fin MacCoul took on Aillen, Tuatha De Danann,
when each year on Tara the creature rounded,
but finally fell by the spear of man
and sleeps until Dord Fiann thrice is sounded.
With Hammer, Iron glove, from Nordic stock
the mighty Thor showed Jotnar who was boss,
until his end foretold at Ragnarok,
a testament in stone on Thorwalds cross.
From such as these who stories shall not end,
these champions and Gods, what e're their names,
I also by my deeds now do descend
to stand among their ranks and stake my claim.
For I, too, am Hero.
I change a three pin plug without a thought
without referring to a diagram,
assembling flat pack furniture is nought,
no need have I of cryptic two page plans.
Foregoing sleep, no need for sustenance
household spiders with glass I stalk and snare
then fearlessly propel them over fence
to neighbour's garden where they languish there.
The lids of pickle jars cannot withstand
onslaught from twisting sinews in my wrist,
abhorring a vacuum, by my command
they pop, admit defeat, cannot resist.
The elements and I stand face to face
as windows I squeegee atop a ladder,
my maiden below holds me firm in place
yet fearful lest I should relieve my bladder.
My Lady is thus pleased I wield such powers,
I take her approbation with a nod,
happy she won't now nag me for an hour
for by these feats, for once-
I am a God.
Dame’s Rockets grow atop her grave:
Pinks, whites and purples flourish here
in this cemetery enclave
where no one has visit in years.
Her oblique, weatherworn headstone
stands aside a nearby roadside
hidden amid weeds, unbeknown
to motorist who pass where she lies.
An effortful deciphering
failed to clarify her birth year
Born April first [obscured] in spring
Died forgotten this much is clear
except for these fragrant bouquets
that perfume above her grave today.
Three trains
The first train was bereavement, in the cab the driver died
pulling a coach of grieving souls, unknowing yet, inside
The second train was unemployed and heading where it will
no scheduled destination and so many miles to kill
Third train was steaming in real fast, relationship express
out of control, the brakes applied but flat out, nonetheless.
Where the tracks all crossed was a signal box, manned by a crew of one
who bumbled by from day to day not knowing what was wrong.
But up there in the box he heard, and from all sides could see
the trains approach their final stop, and that last stop was me.
Bereavement got there first and there was nothing I could do
no lights nor signals made a difference, it just ploughed on through
as unemployed converged at speed and rolled on to it's side
the pair of them went in nose first as relationship arrived
the signal box was crushed beneath, it didn't stand a chance
buried in the twisted wreck of flaming circumstance.
Shock finally subsided and the smoke began to clear
just left with total darkness and no way from out of here
all the wreckage pressing down meant nowhere else to go
just curl up in a tiny ball, try not to move, get low.
So there I stayed as unbeknown their night turned into day
the sounds of all around me going on their merry way.
Many days entombed were spent, not praying for release
comfortable in misery, my loneliness my peace
until the silence broken by a piercing warning shout,
'No rescue's due, it's up to you to dig your passage out'.
From where the voice had come from I could neither hear nor see
until the realisation that the sound had come from me
skin tearing on the razor steel I slowly fought my way
and finally emerged, bathed gratefully in the light of a new day.
No fanfare, and no wild applause, no ticker tape parade
life went on, oblivious to the escape that I had made.
Since then I've built another box around me, much much stronger
and hope the time till the next train will be, Lord, much much longer.
For contest 'Get low', sponsored by Casarah Nance
In memory of that dreadful year 2002.
Villanelle: Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
How many would give their lives young to be acclaimed
Sell their souls deceive connive plagiarize unbeknown
Burn Rome to the tune of fires surging from a lyre lone
How many Caesars seek Cleopatra’s arms to be proclaimed
Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
Remember Kennedys risk turns with a beauty home-grown
To recall a king forfeit his throne for a woman twice-maimed
Sell their souls deceive connive plagiarize unbeknown
Yearn for a name to keep from gnawing marrow-less bone
Seek solace striving to escape the stifling that’s ordained
Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
While others don thick-skinned masks in search of renown
Contort their insecure senses in complexes unrestrained
Sell their souls deceive connive plagiarize unbeknown
Who among the living can claim to have produced the clone
Genji Monogatari Monkey Quijote among authors maimed
Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
Sell their souls deceive connive plagiarize unbeknown
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014