Best Uncomprehending Poems
Hate Is Not A Crime
I have hated
still bear the scars
that caused the hate
and the scars of hating
those who caused the hate.
I know the darkness
of my hate, its futile
longing to be freed
from it’s sordid legacy.
I fear the demons
it holds at bay
in a molten ball
of raging regret.
I have honed the edges
of my hate, cast the sword
heavenward into
an empty sky
Yet the forge still
smolders, new blades glow
reddened-hot
in the flush of feeling’s
lingering lunacy.
My hate gave power
to too small hands,
purpose to an
uncomprehending mind,
fever to a dying spirit.
The healing power of hate -
the purified
cauterization of
un-healing wounds.
For hate was all I had
and hate is not a crime.
5/19/2017
submitted to – Catharsis – Poetry Contest
Categories:
uncomprehending, anger, childhood, dark, hate,
Form:
Free verse
A blank screen faces a writer
Intimidating
All that open space
What are the writer's odds?
A blank face stares dully at the psychiatrist
Unwavering, unblinking
Unengaged, uncomprehending
Where does the psychiatrist even begin?
A child looks vacantly at an empty plate
Listless, disinterested
No expectation of food on it
Not today, not tomorrow
Categories:
uncomprehending, child, food, writing,
Form:
Free verse
Pitch-black night—
scintillas of supernal light
coalesced before my
uncomprehending eyes,
opened wide to survey
endless deep.
Heaven’s milky path ablaze,
as never I had glimpsed—
the Galaxy—
remote, yet beckoning.
I spread puny arms
in tremulous embrace.
Slight murmur—
ineffable—imponderably deep.
And I seemed to hear:
“Gaze a moment more,
and I will thwart your insanity,”
for I was overwhelmed.
6th Place, Brief Unforgettable Moment, Nette Onclaud
Categories:
uncomprehending, beauty, creation, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
THE SANDS OF TIME
We stop-- unquestioning the expertise of our Game ranger
focused--examining sand and road for tracks
Uncomprehending, we ponder waiting for clues he may disclose –the light of dawn
Finally- three words:”Do you see?”
A revelation for him
We try to discern—revealing imprints on a dusty road
Man of few words, he speaks again: “footprints...not animal...fresh, close and recent”
Bushmen behind a thicket of shrub
Authentic and unique-nomads in the Namib Desert
“A family... hunting” he enlightens us further
We sit warm in blankets and woollen scarves
They crouch, short in stature, hiding—naked and shy
Feeling uncomfortable, inappropriately wrong somehow..
Binoculars and camera’s enforce the contrast-awkwardly
Our arrogance, whilst they are natural –reticently
Our Ranger details informative dialogue—geographical lectures
Nomadic in their habitual housing, hunting skills faultless...
Every imprint in the sand tells its own story
Many not wanting their legends uncovered
Invasion – intrusive, identities discovered
We linger no longer—luxurious Game Lodge beckons
Enjoying a breakfast we had no need to hunt for
Copyright© April 2013—Kim van Breda
Categories:
uncomprehending, environment,
Form:
Free verse
She isn't real.
Near mere measures of perfection,
Upon the pedestal to be placed.
All faults beyond my exception;
Within consciousness falsities laced.
Wanted to feel,
Mortal intimacies elicited by her proximity,
To finally feel wholeness fulfill.
Cover my existence with normality,
Ultimately gratifying my eternal thrill.
Inability to deal:
Simple presents pose problematic,
Appearances irrational without reason,
Alterations of plans appear automatic.
My heart, ignoring my mind, commits treason.
Heart will seal.
Now my inabilities stretched past feeling.
Outward perceptions beyond dealing.
Consciousness and soul left reeling.
Uncomprehending of the things she's been stealing.
She isn't real.
Categories:
uncomprehending, lost love,
Form:
Rhyme
For we perceive beyond the rainbow,
Beyond the shadow of gravity holding ISS.
Caught not in a void
But like bees wading in their own honey,
Pollinating space with thoughts …
Our tent did blow from on high
Exposing this nakedness.
They, uncomprehending,
A soul did incarcerate;
Feeding barest morsels shared with rats;
Though famished eyed her fleeting skirt.
So did she infiltrate his racked dreams?
Spittle healing cuts; kisses soothing bruises,
Milk nourishing hunger …
Tears washing away grimy sorrow.
Such comfort in the bounds of direst misery …
Categories:
uncomprehending, desire, dream, grief, imagery,
Form:
Prose Poetry
To cry…
Is to wash the soul from darkness
And suffers
To exude the pain in matters, in seconds
To laugh…
Is to revive your soul and body
Add minutes to your time
Add purpose to your life
To smile…
Is to hide the pain of yours
Kill the fragility of your time
Smirk towards the hurt
To lower your head toward the ground…
Is to live up your day with no meaning
Spend your hours idly
Pretend not to care but it hurts so much because of care
To foretell jokes…
Is to live the true agony
And be the greater good
For your happiness is soon to be yours again
To sit alone, peaceful and unbothered…
Is to live up your thoughts and visualize your ideas
Create the tones, make the lines
Open up the space that’s in your mind
To walk but not walk…
Is to visualize yourself in another place, another time
With other people, better people
To do stuff you never did
But then it hits you again
The worthlessness and insignificance of your life
To listen to music and look out the window at night…
Is to think about the lover you never had
Consider the passion that is never to occur
Live the gloominess of your time
To walk and see the completeness of you and partialness of others…
Is to finally realize how blessed and unthankful you are
How ungrateful and stupid you will always be
How one can never be grateful for what one has but other lacks
To wear your favorite clothing and realize it does not fit you perfectly…
Is to realize how wasteful and careless you are for your body
How uncomprehending you are for time and the quickness of it
How your life may pass swiftly without your joyfulness of youth
To suppress a tear on your pillow…
Is to dig the real thing deep down
Until you close your eyes
Dried tears on your face and pillow
And never to open them again you wish
Categories:
uncomprehending, angstpain, body,
Form:
Free verse
(In Tudu Hospital in the former Saigon,
several hundred dead babies have been
preserved in formaldehyde. They are
hideously deformed as a result of their
mothers having been contaminated by
Agent Orange, a chemical diffused in
Vietnam as part of the American military
offensive, Operation Ranch Hand.)
Things To Do
Everything's sterile. The quiet reek
of formaldehyde seeps from neat shelves.
Tall glass jars, the size of mega-buckets
of Colonel's chicken, line the walls
floor to ceiling. Let's take a look, friend.
Downtown Hanoi, at a loose end,
we'll see the sights.
But they won't see us.
These fetuses and newborn babes
gaze out uncomprehending,
the faintest hint of surprise
darkening their big bug eyes.
Here, a head is elongated like squash.
There, a tongue cascades from a mouth
to fuse with a sternum. Tiny heads
hone to a point, like someone tried
to put them through a pencil-sharpener.
Faces that will never blink look out
and seem to ask, rhetorically,
if this was really meant to be.
By what rule of law or war,
by what technological advance
could it have served somebody's end
to make us monsters,
before we even had the chance
to be born?
Categories:
uncomprehending, war,
Form:
Free verse
Some are sparks
Some are the sparks from a Parliament bonfire,
That fly ever upwards to spin and whirl
amongst the stars and then are extinguished,
falling as a fleck of ash to lie amongst many
in a grey layer, undistinguished one from the other.
And there are a few, so very few, whose spark
Reaches the dark sky and lives amongst the
Heavenly stars that shine over centuries,
Remaining undimmed, lighting our way through
Life and love, and damnation of our souls.
So the Bard of Avon shines above, even four centuries
beyond his bones mouldering in some riverside grave,
Honoured in the exhilaration of performance,
In the strut and fret of hours upon a million stages,
In the warmth that spreads in the breast with his words.
Words. His gift to humankind. Resonances in the
Fabric of minds, harmonies with our daily conversations,
He speaks to our souls, to the innermost being,
Our core, our culture, our language, and to the
World, to all of humanity, in every place.
He speaks to me and I lay myself at his feet,
In awe at his facility and originality, magician
Of words; and I strive to create as he
Might have done, knowing that I am but a
Nervous acolyte to his command.
There is this insistent command from within
To speak as he did, to create the elegant structure
Of rhythm and word; to see the world through
Eyes that comprehend the human condition,
And reflect it to those uncomprehending.
I strive to follow his path, but am not dismayed
When my words do not follow his lead.
I am not so vain as to imagine I am his heir,
Yet I would wish his ghost visit me, and lay
Upon his hands, that I may speak with his voice.
Categories:
uncomprehending, poetry,
Form:
Verse
Akito’s World Comes To An End
By Elton Camp
Akito and I were born days and a world apart
He never saw the emperor, nor I Roosevelt
Lives in peril, but we knew not why
Parents in hushed tones conversing
Events as much beyond their control as ours
A swirling vortex of a war about to conclude
Hitler was dead, but really who was he?
The master race down, slanted eyes to go
Death and destruction on a worldwide scale
An island nation struggling in its final throes
From the sky fell a bomb and then another
Sound, light, heat, wind, pain, peeling skin
I have no memory of it, nor does Akito
Each of us involved with childish play
Akito died on that day a lifetime ago
Entirely as uncomprehending as was I
I lived on and now have grown old
That’s how it is with children of war
Categories:
uncomprehending, war,
Form:
Free verse
I am appalled..Sickened.' uncomprehending..!
Why a medical facility 'namley fort sanders'
Small s...' Intentional..) discharged this suffeing
Woman..? How could they.? Are they a care facilty?
Or a scare facility.'? Can any out there advise me?
On the oppresive actions, started by the obviously
Heartless, mean spirited caller. Who requested that
Police attend.' And they did.' four callous minded cops
That mocked, and accused an innocent person with
Sarcasam...In the depths of her despair she pleaded
She called out..Sir..! I am incensed..I am in despair.!
To witness the mental torture..The physical inhibiting
Actions of the four thugs.' Will anybody own friendship
With these pieces of excrenent.!? Slime is above them
Thats how low they live.' I don't want to know their
Names even..' its so toxic their action.' Beyond sick.'
And the pathology.. dept..Are protecting these scum.'
In Knoxville, a place I would think on twice before going.'
With people in charge like this, and others above them'
Yet well below..? Below the lowest level of contempt.'
Categories:
uncomprehending, anti bullying, betrayal, care,
Form:
Free verse
The wind is moaning,
mist forlorn and low.
The hills are softly sketched
in shades of monochrome.
The village blinks awake
from Sabbath slumber.
A bleating lamb is huddled
at the field's edge, uncomprehending,
it wonders at its birthright.
No silver light is falling from the sky
to ease this cloak of grey,
and yet, on such a bleak, dreich
Hebridean dawn,
A sound to cheer,
delight, surprise,
Just as the rain is falling, falling,
I hear a cuckoo - calling, calling.
Categories:
uncomprehending, bird, weather,
Form:
Free verse
I am the color of roses, valentines, love.
I am the color of anger, war, intensity.
I am two polar opposites.
I am the delightful blush that graces a child's cheek, as a happiness that is stranger like dances through their eyes; effectively melting a mother's heart and putting her mind at peace within the same millisecond.
I am the color that haunts your mother's nightmare's and every waking second.
I am the color that triggers her crippling panic attacks.
I am the color that stains the inside of her innocent eyelids, never leaving her retinas.
I am the color she wishes to wipe from her memory.
I am the color that dripped from your wrist as your life dripped out of you.
I am the color that she can't scrub off of the bathtub wall without breaking down because she can still see the body that she birthed and raised laying there with empty eyes and a cold body. I represent the memories that she still can't scrub off of the porcelain, no matter how pearly the lining. She can still feel the terror and disbelief that wracked her mind and penetrated her soul as she gazed at your still form with an uncomprehending that no one could have the audacity to wish upon someone, let alone a mother. You may not have thought your plan through effectively enough, however, because when you left that day, you took her with you.
And as she buries your mangled body, she remembers the crimson that lit your cheeks and heart afire when you were eight, and the crimson that signed your death warrant when you were fifteen.
The reinforcement of the fact that red is two polar opposites is a bitter irony indeed.
Categories:
uncomprehending, suicide, symbolism,
Form:
Free verse
They gave me a small watch on Xmas Day
But with a watch a little child can’t play
I envied both my sisters with new dolls
As on the old settee the dolls were lulled
I stood there uncomprehending and alone
Had I reached unknowing a milestone?
Then my sister lent me one of hers
I broke that little head upon my chair
I was holding her with tenderness
Scarcely breathing in my velvet dress
So I sat down to rock my babe awhile
The horror of her cracking head was vile
Now I play with numbers and with words
Xmas is a problem to be shared
Categories:
uncomprehending, allegory, angst, lost,
Form:
Sonnet
The Tragedy of Dementia
By Elton Camp
What was Lora has faded away
Slowly, inexorably, irreversibly
Competence, intelligence, caring
Lost in a morass of tangled neurons
Unperceived by her in the early stages
Though all-too-evident to her family
“They say I can’t drive anymore
I can, but they just won’t let me”
Parents she wants to pay a visit
Though dead for decades now
Frustrating confusion interspersed
With a day or so of relative clarity
More and more, growing uncertainty
“Now just who did you say you are?”
Adults claiming to be her children
It can’t be true, but they still insist
She stares at one, uncomprehending
“I have a daughter with that name”
To her husband of sixty years duration
“I don’t know you, we aren’t married”
Finally the end, unmercifully slow
Death enveloped Lora like a fog
Categories:
uncomprehending, angst,
Form:
Blank verse