Best Uncontained Poems
This road is snake-like except
for the crusty scales of an intestinal
late dusk. A boy treaded on the
lane tracks lean and nomadic...
burnt shoulders grilled and toasted by
the sun, as if his coal skin sparked like
burning diamond weeds. In a flash, a tender
sorcery poured in my veins. There and then,
I longed to whisper a tune, play the tambourine or
partake of the loaf in my sack with him.
But he waited for paper clouds to ruffle his hair,
seemingly undisturbed by pilgrims like me
holding unto holy relics and bones of night. The gauze
shirt as his frock winged with the silver winds,
windblown stroking my ebony tresses with a whisper
hushed by his delicate omnipresence.
In a dimly lit bus, sand wheezed tribal notes
moist on my eyelids uprooted by uncontained
temples of longing, now becoming thick
as woolen destiny. If only for a flicker of time,
his eyelids met mine so briefly... parting saline dust
of sacred, smiling gazes. I was inside a cell
of a wombed bus. He was outside enlarged by a
hundred stars exploding dewdrops, inviting eternity.
For a fraction of silence, we met somewhere
between the fluorescent of our twin eyes. He, the angel
first fondly encountered ; I, the dreamer ever bewildered…
I remember...I was five.
---oooo----oooo---
(( P.D.'s " your Own Favorite Poem
by nette onclaud))
They elude me now ...words
Drinking befits a drowning man possessed
Swimming off this broken page
Baton winning in a relay race
I breached the ribbon sliced with chest
Joy! I gasped
Grown tired of my own riddles
Those halting jagged lines
Conversely I committed
So disrespectful of my crimes
In dispatchment utter lunacy
Forgiveness once again!
Ive come to claim my lost respect
My place so quick forgotten was
So Zeroed out of ten
Twelve steps from cursed enslavement
Danced to music uncontained
Toi-toi in lone detachment
Side stepping their allure
And tangoed with enticement
And cha-cha'd with no cure
Then dropping over hurdles
Burning through those barricades
All over all these obstacles
So help me God I try to change
No longer need prescription
Still sometimes do I crave
Unshackled is your prisoner
Dispossession freed this slave
There is something about that -ism
A mystery by name
Other than recovery
Benign this deathly game
Be it known that happy healing
Doubles, behind the curtains of shame
Line of Inquiry:
“We look at spirit not at form
Our touch is gentle, kind and warm
We but reflect God’s love and light
‘Tis the path to which we conform”
Serenity of Spirit is to be invited inside,
not captured and held.
Its movements unfettered and as free
as waves crashing over the sea.
I touch them as they rush to shore,
uncontained, refusing to be restrained
like the sacred stirrings of a silent spirit.
God's light reflects across open waters.
Of its inspiring ebb and flow, I am aware
that He is everywhere... in ocean swells,
dwelling in depths of cerulean Chakra
I feel the bliss of fernweh* inside me
That distant place I cannot see
but exists at the end of the path I follow
once awakened from doubt,
where God's light and love await me.
Words are unspoken during meditation
offering adoration and solemn appeal.
It's tantamount truth I seek...
sincere belief, devotedly divined
not of the body, but in spirit and mind.
Intoxicating, the righteous realization
that God's light glows within me
with calmness when spirit is inhaled,
carrying with it the elegant essence
of a pious paradise; an Elysium Eden.
In a komorebi** moment, shadows fled
when revealed was God's grace,
His radiant presence,
and in the palpable peace I felt
my soul was filled with reverence.
My heart needed spiritual healing...
a transformation I eagerly accepted
when he planted wisdom seeds in me.
*fernwey - yearning for a distant place
**komorebi - embodies a sense of tranquility
Zeal uncontained, needing quarantine
Oscillating rigor mortis, feigned or real
Madness, the only description saleable
Both for actors and non actors alike
Invested in the runaway train consumers
Enjoy at the expense of real tragedy
Shuttered from public view, until it's not
10/15/14
I have spent,
a lifetime,
being calm___________cool collected---afraid to show the darkness!
U n a w a r e,
of the freedom,
that comes from releasing the beast, no longer muzzling the dog!!!!
Growling low,
from deep in my chest,
fists clenched and released, red flush in my face and chest.
I feed off your fear,
as you look into my eyes,
you my tormentor SURPRISED as you watch me rise.
Big man,
see my new found addiction,
I'm in a heightened state, no longer afraid, an uncontained contradiction.
Interruption,
between heart and brain,
moving from soft spoken to someone I can't explain!
Powerful emotion,
to me my weakness personified,
letting my self completely go, spectating from deep inside.
ANGER e r u p t s,
fifty four years of playing the stamp collecting game,
I'm the one at fault but others think you're to BLAME!
Written October 29, 2015
By: Richard Lamoureux
For Casarah's Dancing with description contest.
Note: this is eight lines stylized for visual effect.
I’m tired of trying to tame her
Of needing to blame her
Of trying to keep her colors
Locked within the lines
The sad confines
Of this life
She is there
Always pushing my limits
She’s there
The real woman that I am
The real me
Wild and free
Untamed
Uncontained
Unafraid
Wanting to BE…
To tempt and tease
To possess and please
A beauty flaunter
A good girl taunter
She’s there
She has the walk
She has the talk
She has the eyes to beguile
She has that wicked smile
And yet I keep her locked away
I keep her every need at bay
She’s in disguise
From prying eyes
Dormant, she lies
She cries
Misjudged and misunderstood
Ashamed of sensual womanhood
Veiled in culture's restrictive norms
She abides in her roles, the forms
Hidden away
Made to play
The domestic game
Tame
Tame
Ashamed
Of the fires within
Made to believe… it’s a S I N
To give in and to taste
T’would be unchaste…unchaste
And so passion consumes
And the whole world assumes
She’s docile and demure
But this I know for sure
She lies in wait
To satiate
Her desire
With wanton fire
She waits…
And so she lives a secret life
Her mind in turmoil and in strife
And I, and I???
I cry
I cry
Her every fantasy…deny
And I comply
To every single man made rule
And force her to be some silly fool
And I lie
I try
To forget
I’m made to fly
I wear the smile
But it’s not worthwhile
My mind unstable
For I’m not able
To set her free
To be
To be
Oh, can’t you see?
The hidden woman
Is me
Is ME!!!!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
She stared into the mirror,
wished she could utter the Queen's request.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall...."
What was the use? She was not beautiful.
Nor was she rich. No plastic surgery for her.
Oh to be beautiful, men admiring her,
she'd be always in control,
beckoning, ordering, playing, partying.
But her face was not beautiful,
passable perhaps, but not beautiful.
Was it any use for her to wish the impossible?
Was beauty so important?
The media thinks so. Look at all the ads.
Cream for this, cream for that,
slimming, poises, massages, trimming.
She picks up her brush.
Yes, her hair was beautiful,
smooth like a luscious green meadow.
She smiled. Her face lit up.
Incredible how such small lips
could produce such an effect.
Even the old woman whom
she helped yesterday said so.
You have a lovely smile
and a big heart, she had said.
But she did not say she was beautiful.
Nor did her husband ever tell her so.
He just called her "My treasure."
And they always made love in perfect harmony,
uplifting their hearts, passion uncontained.
Again she smiled. Soon he'll be home
for dinner and love. Did she need to be beautiful?
Did she need to change her life?
Was not all she possessed
all for the best? Again she smiled.
Her face, not beautiful perhaps, lit up in joy.
Maddening thought to process such a word
Mad definition defining more than anger
Mad upset feeling fever flushed climatic danger
Mad mangled minor class offense verse major
Madly suggestive messages a madden proclaimer
Mad made digestive mental notes selective
Madder matters making moves motioning more
Minds mad capacities hijacking brains plane
Mad makers massive maze uncontained
Moistening our various vented veins change
Mad to be or not to be?
Crazy…
An android phone, put simply, is death.
Its blue light reveals corpses in faces
as viruses and viral videos spread uncontained contagion.
Men walk dead, necks broken, hungry for brains.
someone else's thoughts distract them from the pain
of their silent, rotting faces.
strangers are comfort food, as their skin
stretches tighter and tighter on their bones.
8,28,2018
my endless void of grief breathes pain
no light, no hope, no peace, no gain
just aching hollow uncontained
my memories unspoken
on replay always broken
adrift upon a glassy sea
of nothingness, a nowhere me
sedated by my apathy
a shell, a husk, no feeling
a ghostly past comes stealing
a whisper sighs within the haze
a truth sublime begins to blaze
life can be better than this phase
The mirror starts to splinter
An end for endless winter?
then breath returns somehow within
and pulse where none before had been
a hint of light past darkest sin
dim, unsure, yet brighter still
to heal a long broken will
the journey long, dark and bitter
yet beauty found amidst litter
grace and strength to become fitter
inner light, no surrender
heart unbroken but tender
;
he parlayed a condom full of nouns
in bold thrusts of the quill
for the para structuralist cadres
many of them freeway orphans
who won't even read a stoplight
on the other hand
there's a lot of other hand
upon hearing the chimes of midnight
I opened the door
another surprise party
that I knew about all along
arranged by my body building therapist
who was a notorious sadist
requiring humiliation ab astra
went in after my scenario gland
in an act of divine pity
sewed me back up real fast
couldn't handle the pixel rate
the audience shrieked and laughed
it was the great awakening
after the Treaty of Lucky Seven
in which all nations pledged
to honor their accidents and idiocies
as though they were instruments of divination
uh oh here comes my chiropractor
a known mob boss
never found the need to knock
cracked his knuckles at the door
and politely asked may I enter
he spoke 7 languages
and several materialist dialects
and could talk without
moving his lips
many were blamed for
things they never said
a hundred times a day
nothing is uncontained
archaeologists in the city dumps
using a subway map with all the stops
snorted and toiled through Winter
at their historico-revisionist comedy
piecing convex to concave
any idea past its prime is stupid
this is the unfortunate fate of all humanity
nobody really likes change
unless it’s more money
oh I know I’ll never work in this town again
but with a bankroll
the size of a chewed pencil
you get the picture
now buckle up kids
mommy's going to drive a little faster
there's a cop on my ass
and I think I can lose him
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
My chest is raw and there are bite marks on my soul
My hands are curled and my overworked libido is dying
And I know
I’m at the place where sexual desire
Becomes physical addiction
The lack of
Your necessary breath
Is a suffocating effect
My blood is black
My lips are dry
My joints are locked
And my eyes are foggy
My body is rioting
Destructively searching
For hidden remnants
Of warm uncontained passion
That I’m withdrawing from
Love’s touch is absent
It’s friction fading
I will desert my body’s turmoil
I’ll return
When It enters you again
Inferno...
rage uncontained...
within;
a love burning...
too hot to cool down;
without cease...
raging!
That's my love...
for thee,
day by day...
unsmothered!
Leap into the flames!
Let my heart's inferno...
singe!
Let it envelop thee!
tryptophan fills my veins,
lost in lingering lullabies-
i sort out what used to be mine
he was enchanting with evocative eyes,
feverish in tantalizing touches;
a fraction of forgiveness without
atonement made me weak-
and i am left
BREATHLESS
but
i am placid and quiescent,
yet
frenzied and unrestrained-
i prosper in the present,
reckless and uncontained
the wrath of my spirit, spontaneous-
faded and jaded memories
of whens and nows and
hows and thens,
i can’t handle all the
sleeplessness drifting
onto my pillow at night
searching in the shadows deep,
like an x-ray deeming for bones-
for youth has lost her sleep…
searching for tenderness,
longing to leave a farewell note,
just to say goodbye for good-
so i can finally breathe-
but
i am left
BREATHLESS...
once again
*********************************
1.22.20
Brian Strand
A baseball game is fun to watch and cheer
For nine innings are spectators all geared
Pitchers and batters, runners and fielders
Excitement uncontained as umpires yell there
Batter up is the sound pitcher to the mound
The hindcatcher yells the batter Now!
As the batter swings the crack is heard
Foul ball is the umpires voice and final word
Two strikes and three balls while the batter eyes all
The pitch is thrown as the batter swings tall
April 21 2016