Best Unconstrained Poems
FEELINGS
Feelings,
Masters of my destiny
Lords of my life
Strength of my dreams
Instigators of my actions
Burning fire you are
Consuming my whole
Being:
My heart
My mind
My soul
My spirit,
As you relentlessly
Demand:
To be conceived
To be formulated
To be understood
To be expressed!
A Herculean task it is,
I swear,
Such an enterprise,
For how one could ever
Constrain, you, the unconstrained
And mold you into:
Phonemes
Syllables
Words
Phrases
Sentences
And still, retain
Your explosive
Dynamism?
No language exists,
So vast
So deep
So accurate
So supple
As to pay justice,
To your intensity
To your desire
To your beauty
To your love!
Thus, having no
Alternative,
I turn to the only language
There is,
The one that the
Cosmos speaks,
And
The universe alone
Comprehends:
The language of
Harmony,
That we humans
POETRY name
BUT
Even then
To describe you
I AM UNABLE!
©Demetrios Trifiatis
28 January 2013
OH VINCENT
Oh Vincent, can we ever know what torments plagued you;
what demons fought you; what images raped your senses?
It was no accident that you sent blinding blasts of brightness
swirling, like hurled saucers to splatter upon your night sky canvases.
There you found your voice feathered
with mixed hues of unrelenting colors
swished in among tired out bristles.
Unconstrained, they brought to life
the frenzied haunting façade of your crazed visions.
Oh Vincent, you have tried to paint pictures of God,
broken frames holding thoughts alive within a broken soul,
You felt other’s deep sorrows and you placed
your mournful tears upon empty spaces,
and rendered images of a faceted life,
conceived from a passionate heart.
Oh Vincent, you created holy existences
upon folios of painted scenes
the glory of dreams carefully uncovered
and laid bare to once again transcend life
as permanent shapes and shadows.
Evocative images were lured into sensory miracles
of what you wanted to offer, and of all you had to offer
You told your stories in ways only you could express.
But, oh Vincent, I ask you, was it really ever enough?
CAK 2-20-2014
I dreamed a bird-of paradise arose one starry night.
Beautifully plumed, it floated in mystical moon-light.
I drifted along with it, as delicate as fine lace,
extraordinarily content, unconstrained and graceful.
Afterwards in heaven’s garden
Where I find no weed or thorn;
Only stoneless soil unhardened,
Life is verdant, newness born.
Rows of hedges, trees, and flowers
Vibrant in their colors fair
Beauty floods my eyes for hours
Unconstrained by time, I stare.
I can find no signs of dying
Only life and peace - rebirth
No more sounds of grief-fraught crying
That I once knew while on earth.
Life-enriching waters flowing
From their pure eternal source,
Purifying all things growing
That they pass along their course.
Stars above are animated,
As I hear deep voices sing
Songs for which they were created,
Joy to their Creator bring.
Of vile crimes I hear no traces,
Sounds of war no more I hear;
What I see are joy-filled faces
All relieved of pain and fear.
All our days on earth are numbered,
Keep this hope until we wake
To God’s kingdom unencumbered
Of our sins, for Jesus’ sake.
Dreams
Like paper airplanes floating on the breeze
forever drifting gently to and fro
and guided freely with the greatest ease
whichever way the wistful winds may blow,
our deepest dreams will take us where they please.
Just gliding through the clouds on gossamer wings
and softly floating ‘cross the moonlit sky
like paper airplanes unconstrained by strings,
nocturnal dreams just gently float on high
and bring us visions filled with magic things.
And in the morning as we raise our head
and clear the clouds out of our sleepy eyes,
we will recall the dreams our conscience fed
like paper airplane’s journey of surprise
across the nighttime skies where we were led.
September 1, 2022
Roosters crow at the break of day
Inviting the sun to come up
And reveal a partly cloudy sky
While the poet shivers as she stays
Out on the porch to view up high
The odd slow movement of clouds cupped
Like a clam shell's ridges flay
White crackled cold dew coats summer grass
Pines softly sigh their winter song
Amidst bamboo wind chime's mellow tunes
Winter's bite removes desire to surpass
Time out on the porch with nature commune
Birdsong symphony; poet belongs
Not viewing nature through the glass
The Star Magnolia now blossoms white stars
Daffodils delicate leaves show
Forcefully pushed through frozen clay
Encouraged by the signs of spring's stars
The poet's winter blues allay
As warm sun shines returns aglow
Luscious plants become new avatars
Soon the red earth will warm again
Remove the damp damaging frost
Bare limbs whipped by winter winds
Will invite to come unconstrained
Now the northwesterly breeze blinds
The pines sigh from the cold winds tossed
A poet languishes behind glass constrained
Written: February 06, 2016
Inspired by a contest..It was a challenge..
Why would I want to be a flower
when I can smell as sweet?
Why would I want to be an ephemeral spectacle
when I can be an eternal bloom with love within?
Why would I want to wilt and wither
and bite the dust?
But if I have to, I'll be a DANDELION!
Invincible, unconstrained, conspiring with
the wind to spread my domain
of golden-yellow flowery quilt
over the lawns and the meadows
as far as the eyes can see.
Slighted, ignored, untended,
I still flourish unabashed,
Teasing, mocking playfully--
An unrelenting pain in the butt!
Flower: Dandelion = Lion's tooth
"Picture yourself as a flower" contest by Andrea Dietrich
When wind’s silence
heralds boundless oblivion
and the trembles of cracked earth
raise the dust of tears
dried by the boundless footfalls
of sallow flesh
When a thread of gold
brings unearthly thought
and the misconception
of suns fallen
drives foolish men to their knees
in unending tremors
An army of one
frees the air from his fingertips
and stays not his opal blade
as it bites the rotted gray necks
of kings released from their wrongful bliss
by his trembling palms
An army of one
unconstrained by nature’s volume
freed by the sin of his naivety
yet, bound by earth’s oldest secret
as the scarlet sun weeps
its bloodied tears
An army of one
his cloak worn through
by the acid blood of his deception
and his bones stilled;
the branches of a dying oak
which no longer caress the wind
It's funny being a kid--
for one thing,
you can never see eye-to-eye
with the grown-ups,
and not just cause they're taller--
no, it's how they think,
in that strange way,
what with all their secrets
and sneaky looks at one another....
But kids are honest, kids are real.
They all live only in the present,
the here and now, but still are
magically, wondrously unconstrained
by place or time or size:
so they can be pirates on the high seas
one day, or brave cavalry charging
savage foes the next, or
maybe happy cowboys and cowgirls
home on the range under
a vast and comforting blue sky.
Kids leave it to the adults
to make a bomb that is real,
to kill or maim, to wage wars
that rubble cities and wreck nations....
Oh, if only kids could always live
in that World of Imagination,
and never become grown-ups!
Sometimes I get nostalgia attacks
Like asthma attacks
But worse
Because I have no inhaler for this
It contracts and expands my lungs into painful convulsions
Casualties of breath as I reminisce of the times before
Before I knew of the horrors of April 15th
Precedent to when my eyes were exposed
Exposed to this macrocosm of bigotry
Where you are hated for love
And loved for hate
I have no inhaler for this
My nostalgia attacks admonish my serene childhood
In wake of when dreams met no restrictions
When scholars were unconstrained by finance
When growing old meant wine and independence
I have no inhaler for this
For the ones who might cringe at my marriage
Because a sin is a sin is a sin
For the restrictions of my dreams
Because money means nothing until it means everything
I have no inhaler for this
As swift as a northern wind the nightmare will finally begin, for years we warned
you we begged for the resistance to gain steam and forefeel the dream of putting
an end to this deadly regime.
It was all or nothing the battle of epic proportion but in the end evil prevail and a
new American fuhrer we shall hail. Unconstrained by law total militarism of awe
the inferior folk will fall there is no turning back now we know were power lies as
though a new messiah has risen through blood soaked skies.
His jackbooted soldiers reign of destruction and open terror look for the full
indoctrination of an enslaved nation a product of this American fuhrers insane
creation.
A state of horror before the eyes of this republic could this be real our own
American soil crushed under the heel of totalitarian steel. As we fall in line with
the change of time what was the resistance is now a band of rogue soldiers
unwilling to march for our fuhrer and his new world order.
This is it my fellow comrades the iron arm of fascist law America is no longer
free as a matter of fact it's all the same to me. Have mercy on us my lord for we
know your righteous light will guide us day and night soon the resistance will see
everlasting might to end this final fight this dream i hold on to so very tight.
copyright (c) 2006
[A tribute to my very favorite type of dreams in childhood, and I don't believe I'm alone in that.]
Once I could fly without a plane,
unconstrained by gravity and
unbounded by mother earth,
I would soar like a human eagle,
my arms wings, my heart warm
and beating notes of pure joy....
High up in the cool air I was safe,
lord of all I saw as I dived and
banked, rose and fell again,
brushing close to ground but
never touching--then pumping
my winged arms to reach far
above a trite, boring world
whose creatures wore chains
too heavy to let them fly....
Oh, how I loved that time
when the child I was could fly
every night in special dreams,
or so it seemed...I suppose
they really were not so often,
those nights when I could jump
off a roof or a cliff and know, and
truly know I would sail free on the
untamed winds--but alas...
as I began to depart childhood
my flying dreams grew scarce,
and their glory diminished--
I would have to flap my arms,
harder and harder to gain height,
and even so I could barely free
my body of heavy and dull earth.
Then one day, one ordinary day,
it was done, and I had to walk,
to fly no more, no longer a god--
Yes, once I could fly, and whether
it came from some dimmed memory,
perhaps of heaven, or just the fruit
a kid's imagination, I know not--
60 earthbound years have passed
and still I long to fly free again....
I do not hold myself to time trumpets,
no list of things to do schedule for me;
but I follow my own true north compass,
I am unconstrained and unrestrained free !
Facing each new day with rapture and glee,
perhaps you think my life a mishmash mess;
but I embrace life in each free will breath,
filling days with joie de vivre bliss.
My words written on white are God caressed;
joy- chaos of the pen and the abyss !
Because of no restrictions I have peace,
I am not enslaved to a list of things;
letting go of "must" and "need" a release,
and each dawn a new beginning it brings !
And my spirit, mind, heart and soul has wings,
you may think my life a muddle jumble;
that cannot endure and will soon crumble.
but truth, I never know what will sparkle !
Enjoying each "in the moment" tumble;
for in time- I will be engraved marble !
________________________
November 4, 2021
Poetry/Dizainx2/Unconstrained and Unrestrained
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1403-576-04
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Agendaless Exuberance
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 11/27/2021
First Place
Your sands sieve through my fingers
The luxury is mine
You watch me around the clock
A perfect circle
Your all seeing eye.
I exist in your omnipresence
Hypnotised by your chime
You pave my thoughts
I trail your steps.
Suspended in time
I’m but a paratrooper
Eavesdropping,
Perhaps intruding even
Every molecule in me is your synchronisation
I was born, I live, and surely I shall die,
An you will keep going to face another day
Uninterrupted movements
An unconstrained flow, forwards, upwards
Towards where?
I pray you never get there!
Because who would be powerful enough to stop your watch?
I would split the seconds if I could
Until I arrive at an infinitesimal, unquantifiable figure
Until the smallest amount, the least of them all stood
Would that be you?
How do you catch something that never stops moving?
Something that comes from all directions,
And goes in all directions?
It exists in the present, the past and forever
And has no starting point and no end.
I’m just trying to understand what has been given to me
My presence
A gift is it?
It is said we’re living on borrowed time
Why not just be generous and give it away
When there's so much of it seemingly with no end?
You are just too magnanimous
Too illusive
But I’m still not satisfied, I know there’s more to you
The fast-forward, the rewind, the pause!
You’re just playing tricks on us aren't you?
How do you stay fresh, moment to moment anew?
Man personified you into a clock to give you a face
To make you seem a bit more familiar,
But you are horror, a ticking time bomb
Attacking the future
Encouraging change through decay
Forging ahead of yesterday without delay
Charging forward to tomorrow,
Breaking the now
Bridging numerous dimensions into infinity
To wash us anew with your fabric
My existence hanging on this timeline
My time zone
Winding down to the deadline
To the cut-off time
The countdown without a glitch
And face the countless forevers still to come
An infinite memory bank of rich histories
A threshold of possibilities still unimagined
This is my time,
My first and last
But you didn’t even flinch
Punctual, you are
I’m timed out
You flip the hourglass
Evilness consumed your mind
You deflowered my innocence
And robbed my naiveté’
Burglarized my integrity
While applying a death grip on my sanity
Do you think about the youthfulness you stole?
Or give thought to the exploitation of my growth?
One day you will be unconstrained and set free
Liberated from your transgressions
Will I be left serving your sentence?
To the jury you pleaded your sorrows
You were concerned for your tomorrows
Never gave me a thought with your plea
Through shallow tears there was no apology
What about my freedom
My right to freely breathe
How do I regain my vitality?
To navigate through life
Sealed with condemnation and filling guilty?
Death does not reserve its visit
I hope you find deliverance
It’s urgent you convert your iniquities
And pray for forgiveness
For he will come like a thief in the night