Best Unceasingly Poems
In changing of the seasons that go on
unceasingly, from winter until fall;
in each day's path from day until the dawn -
I see so much, yet I've not seen it all.
This world, of which I am so very fond,
contains a fraction of creation's art
that God has wrought in all the worlds beyond!
Oh, sun above, shine on and fill my heart
with radiance of beauty; let me know
that we have value to a loving God
though we be as the grains of sand below.
Shine on, oh moon and stars, I'm ever awed!
All that we know and all we've yet to see
are proof of God for all eternity.
Categories:
unceasingly, creation,
Form:
Rhyme
Her reveries slant the compass of time: 1970s. Minefields now roar through blurred visions. She retreats into dots of space to live in the moment, as emotions fling to a gray sky. While curtains blow unceasingly, hours freeze. Again, love passes; leaves, while a young wife’s heart crushes in tears.
bouyant clouds wander
in the expanse of night time
to gather shadows
There is delicacy in pain. Letters from Nam change the dark of winter to a glitter of December lights. As she sets the table, the flaming candle waxes through a kitchen filled with sweets and almonds . He is the breath touching musical tones in the quiet rhythm where carols are sung together. Feeling his presence,
she regales in a lone dance of fond remembering.
pines in crimson gold
waltz across the starlight
etching mellow notes
Somehow, a woman begins to droop beside a half-closed window. In the cold of duskfall, she longs
for her soldier husband, quietly. Then wiping her cheeks, she is refreshed by those who need her, now. In a joyful play with daughter and son, Aunt Jamie finds her true north. Such is the luster of more tomorrows,
moon glimmers, dust fades
a balm of healing renews
fresh discoveries
For 1/14 2016
Categories:
unceasingly, memory, recovery from, uplifting,
Form:
Haibun
Once upon a time
My lady called
I stood mesmerized
At ocean’s cusp
Glinting, glimmering, gleaming
Thousands of sparklers
Dot her sequined dress
Shouting
Look at me!
Look at me!
Breathless ripples strew pebbles at shores edge
Cormorants perch on hips of slate
Eyes of diamond reflect starry nets
Starfish mouth warm honeycombs of tide pools
Waves of breast, milky white, feed the minions
Feet of clay glue her honeyed presence
Roaring, rumbling, ripping
Like the sea serpents
Who call her waters home
She crashes
Into shore’s stationary sentinels
Whose feet she laps unceasingly
Capricious as she is
This lady is not fickle
The meditative state
Which hypnotized and paralyzed
Is there
For your embrace
Categories:
unceasingly, beautiful, muse, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
“Fear whispers worry into your ear, anxiety into your hopes and doubt into your faith… Love whispers hope and peace” – by poet
With a brain washed pale
By voices thundering
Silent screams echoing through me
Clearing away the debris
Of disappointment and disillusionment
My mind darkened on a clear night
No stars twinkled through my thoughts
And the blaze of my heart
Was smothered beneath the darkness
That was like a consuming fire
Shooting flames through my mind
Resonating fear and doubt
Clouding my soul with black suspicion
Breaking away all the hope and faith
Pouring disgust through my veins
Marking the way for desolation
Despair and waves of guilt
That sauntered across my emotions
Coloring me in hues of gray
Bipolar disorder screamed
Beneath a mask of whispers
And I cried – tears of desperation
Tears that flowed out of me
Relentless, unceasingly
And I prayed for peace
That only God could bring to me
Philippians 4:7 (King James Version) And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
March 23, 2021
Categories:
unceasingly, dark, fear, health, heart,
Form:
Free verse
Leaving my car, I hasten my pace as
silent pain, screaming inside me
intensifies with the increasing movements made
by what I only can describe as an invisible snake
slithering beneath my flesh.
It’s felt by only me, and seen by no one -
the strange phenomenon
of a nervous system gone awry from side effects
of the “miracle” of modern medicine.
I know my conditions now by the title of Neuropathy,
but that definition does not come close to
describing what I experience unceasingly.
Mere “tingling or numbness”
would be preferable
to the feeling of a slithering serpent
squeezing or pressing down along my back.
Striding into the grocery store,
I find what I need as quickly as I can.
At any time, my metaphorical serpent
might decide to wildly strike,
perhaps while in the checkout line as I wait
with my silent screaming -
Please, line, move! Just let me finish here!
Afterward, with grocery bags in hand,
I scramble to my car.
Once inside, I press my back against my seat.
Ahhhh, relief!
The snake loses its momentum when I am reclined
or pressing myself against a surface,
and so I am not physically as active as I used to be.
People with chronic unseen disabilities
are not just a few.
When you chance to see someone fidgeting
in a line, looking as if
they’d like to “jump out of their skin,”
maybe you are seeing someone like me
with silent pain, screaming
from within.
Nov. 19, 2022
For Edward Ibeh's Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest
#3 chosen: Silent Pain, Screaming
Categories:
unceasingly, pain,
Form:
Free verse
You wish to reach the deepest parts of me
To lure the abandoned child from her eternal sleep
To protect my shrouded frailty and soothe the storm within
But through no fault of my own, I could never truly let you in
You will underestimate my devotion, and burden my heart
Shatter my delicate trust, and at your hands, I'll surely fall apart
It would be wise for me to forget
Your eyes, your arms, your lips upon my neck
The heart knows no rationale, unlike the mind
But it holds the answers that logic unceasingly struggles to find
It's in my nature, it has always been my way
To seek comfort in solitary darkness, I find no refuge in the light of day
In my earliest years I discovered that no matter which love I chose
Far too many thorns mar a single rose
Categories:
unceasingly, angst, confusion, introspection, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Each of us is born the main persona
in the narrative of his or her own life.
Through ever-changing atmosphere,
supporting characters and diversity of settings,
we help to mold the rising action of our own tale.
A great variety of characters abound in our stories.
Some of them, bright pennies tossed into existence,
spin wildly on exploits which make for
the most gripping of preliminary chapters.
However, their denouement is hard to guess.
Others, silver dollar, sparkle too,
but in a much less compromising way.
I suppose most of us could fit into that category.
Giddily we dance through early life’s events.
Then on and on we go, unraveling our plot,
striving always for happily-ever-afters.
A smaller group, Olympian, glide like skaters
on ice. Not only blessed, they are also driven.
Their chronicles inspire us; they are gold!
Others, although colorful, when held up to the light,
they are shown as counterfeit, the perpetrators of pure fiction.
A few, by fate and nature not so blessed, may court insanity,
or at the very least, create confusion
with their crises that seem to come unceasingly
yet often fail to find resolution.
Possibly, if given a good polishing,
they could be diamonds in the rough!
There are others who are the spawn of a society gone wrong.
They stalk our paths, as unfeeling as assassins.
The pages from their lives can horrify.
However, those who wield great power
are also often morally corrupt, and
if their stories live on, it’s in infamy only.
These types of souls are nothing but
cold, hard cash, and paper burns or crumbles
in the end.
A final group is joyless.
Given something . . . giving nothing back,
they hoard the talents God gifted them.
They wonder woefully why no one wants
to open their books to even read
the parts that once had held some promise.
For them it would be better to have been
a rusting copper penny in dread of its own conclusion
than even an evil-doer whose story titillates
and at least gets read.
Categories:
unceasingly, life, metaphor,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Still Seconds ( A Valentine )
Chocolate box romance
Of ribbons and flowers
Wishes in poetical phrases
Letter and verse
Imprinted rhythmical beats of hearts
In soft sweet confessions
Underline Cupids children
But my love prowls
On feline soft paws
Its breath an engine
Its rhythm slow steaming
Waiting
Saint Valentines greatest lovers
In painted masks
Have struggled expressions
Too beautiful to defy descriptions
Of eternal Kings and Queens
In heavens love
Of Cherubim and Seraphim
But my love rages
In perfumed heat
Its still seconds it eats
Its constant deciphering of
Wanting
A full deluge could wax Shakespearean
With torrential emotion
Propound and profess
Passions unceasing delirium
And so esteemed the grammatical invocations
Of loves powered obsessions
Would write unceasingly on
But my love irreversible
Stands helpless acceptance
Its distracted ecstatic if
Its intoxicated blood
Needing
And so I break upon a howling wind
Aching pours from my throat
A screaming name
Desperate tempest to a brooding sea
I stand helpless
In still seconds
Unable to contend
With love
Categories:
unceasingly, lovelove,
Form:
Free verse
It is in fire
that each of us is born.
Fires ignited in consuming passion
to embrace the pleasures of the heart and flesh;
fires
rising from the smoldered embers within
unquenched, indestructible burning of the heart;
lips pursed to reveal
the sensual enticing
opening to come forth, give in;
touch the candle flames and burn
endure the torch within,
set the blaze afire
scorch the mind of thought
and melt in the all-consuming charring
of love;
be the slave, the tormented martyr
the agonized hunger satisfied
by the consummation of love
beyond all dreams, beyond imagination;
give in, submit, succumb
there is no escape, you are forever captive,
the slave of love forever
seared in the passionate blazing glow
of the fire burning unceasingly.
Slave to Love Poetry Contest
John Hamilton
July 3, 2019
Categories:
unceasingly, love, love hurts,
Form:
Free verse
Do not think me overly confident
Because I believe the obvious fact?
Do I come across as arrogant
Because I have thought processes you lack?
Do not yourself be as the ignorant are
Who buy into wild conspiracy theory
Or follow "leaders" who do not care,
Thinking only of themselves, so wearily
I find it sad you blather on unceasingly,
That you are convinced of dangerous lies
Which would undermine common decency
Destroy the values on which America relies.
Do you really think against all evidence
The 2020 election was riddled with fraud
Or are you searching for some confidence
In a thing greater than yourself to applaud.
Have you asked yourself recently how
You can make your country great again.
What is your motivation for acting so now
What can you hope in desperation to gain?
GOLD MEDAL WINNER
"Create a Theory" Poetry Contest
All Poetry - October 19, 2021
Categories:
unceasingly, patriotic, political,
Form:
Quatrain
"Melancholy is the happiness of being sad."
Victor Hugo
Filled of memories, dreams lost and found
and heartaches hugged and embraced,
time stands still, laying quietly ticking in wait
of everything that was and is never meant to be.
I sleep, dulled and delayed by my dreams
slipping into futures forgotten and passed
with yesterdays anguish awakening, grasping, clutching at my heart
in want of your love not given
and mine, too easily given away.
Melancholy is my seduction, sensual emotion. pleasures endured
for need of loving you without return
imagined laughter at your amusement
that I am blinded by your beauty and innocence and yet, you see me not.
Full of hope, passion, lust filling every bone, sinew in my mind
this heart cries, weeps unceasingly
for the perfection of untouched love
that beats and breathes in every salted tear
that will forever, long eternally for you.
I die quiet and stilled, silenced by these imaginings
that tear at my heart and soul
and force my mind to false comforts
that is not real, to happily cry at loving you.
7/20/19
Writing Challenge 2, July 2019- Melancholy
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Categories:
unceasingly, angst, heartbreak,
Form:
Epitaph
I sing Him praises throughout the day,
Gentle admiration for what He might say…
If He knows the depths of my heart and soul,
His loving praises from me seem to flow.
Words of joy spring from my inner voice,
Short, sweet tributes to Him who is my choice …
In hopes that He will always know of my love,
Which I am certain springs from up above.
Signs that I chose to give of myself freely,
My absolute best is what I give ideally…
With a pure, honest faith that He will always embrace,
I am so very thankful for His eternal grace.
Despite all my worst deeds, He continues to provide,
Reassurance that I’m blessed so long as in Him I do abide…
Always discerning the best that He grants to my soul,
Reflections of the cross forever in control.
Alive, like His word, my worship of Him delights,
Taking my heart and soul to wondrous heights…
Fulfilling my greatest needs to show Him my feeling,
The hope, joy and peace that come from kneeling.
Believing in Him so deeply that I praise Him unceasingly,
Helps me to get through each of my days pleasingly…
Discovering endless promises written down by His pen,
Celebrated freely by those long ago wise men.
It is with thanksgiving I come unto him on my knees,
Whispering my prayers that I so hope do please…
Giving back whatever I can with all that I have inside,
From the depths of my spirit where he does reside.
Categories:
unceasingly, god, hope, inspirational, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
Thirteen ladies dancing
By Throckrington Moor’
Each movement stately
Each movement sure.
Stark against the sky
Each single girl,
Feet firmly planted,
Arms all a whirl,
Moves to the wind
In a slow rhythmic way,
Dancing consistently
Whether night or day.
Really only dancing ladies
In my minds inner eye,
Really just wind turbines
Outlined against the sky.
Spare and sparse in their design
To me things of simple beauty
Unceasingly performing
Their appointed duty.
Just by Throckrington Moor
Each one proves it’s worth
Providing clean power to
Help save our wounded Earth.
Each time I pass that moor
Those girls are standing there
Stark in their beauty
In that clear moors air
Categories:
unceasingly, beauty, earth, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
O man, the ground is cursed because of you,
and all your days are labor filled with pain.
The harvests from the field are meager, few,
burned by the sun, drowned by torrential rain.
The thorns and thistles, plotting, will conspire
to join as an impenetrable foe;
unceasingly, to never weaken, tire,
they add still further misery to your woe.
And if perchance a gracious yield abounds,
‘tis not yet time to lay your weary head;
thy beast of burden, yoked, must make its rounds,
trod out the grain to make the daily bread.
And yet, the lot of man: to work the soil,
raise drink in thanks, find joy amongst the toil.
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Categories:
unceasingly, joy, work,
Form:
Sonnet
Anacreontic Verse
I’m feeling so blue.
My tears fall
drip, drip, drip.
Eyes bright red
as the deluge flows
unceasingly.
My broken heart aches
and cannot be fixed …
such intense pain
so deep inside.
Why did you leave me
all alone,
expecting me
to soldier on
without you?
I don’t need
a photograph
to see your face
as it is printed
indelibly
in my mind.
Your parting
was so sudden.
No phone call
or letter
just intense silence.
Drugs took your life,
but your memory
will live on
forever.
Submitted to Best sad poem ever II
Sponsored by Laura Loo
01~02~16
Categories:
unceasingly, addiction, dark, death of
Form:
Verse