Best Undiluted Poems
another typical day, with feet on the ground
ordering the hedge to meet my image of trim
many measured bits fall before the cutting edge
casual thoughts detach, is there anybody in ?
then some mental inner disturbance jangles
with corresponding jig, nerves rip in deeper
following the run of a stalk, the hang of a sprig
so prune the untidy and unwelcome creeper
a movement to the side of my eye is caught
something is scared, behind dense vegetation
the fast beating breast of a baby brown bird
a frantic flutter and then much aggravation
descends to the pavement in fear driven escape
panic ruptures in flood, under a half sliced-off wing
chest partly open, feathers flecked red with blood
cupped warm in my hand, young life does cling
grim realisation, fledgling with no hope
pressure leaking, ebbing from a dying heart
but then our eyes meet, answers it is seeking
'where's my mum, when can my flying lessons start?'
the deed is now done, the light that shone has gone out
just the salt of my tears at this horrible juncture
the killing of one hundred and fifty million years
and this clumsy ape's evolutionary puncture
undiluted guilt, too much concentration to bear
to forgive and assuage, soothing rational thought
replacement anger and even more depressing rage
bombs target children when careless wars are fought
imagine that child, in screaming terrified terror
in mortal trouble, reduced to core instinct base
an external world has turned your home into rubble
'where's my mum, why can't I see her familiar face?'
Categories:
undiluted, bird, child, death, humanity,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Wine ferrets out the truth
Or so it is reputed
Like that which it seeks
Wine works best -- undiluted
Categories:
undiluted, drink, truth,
Form:
Epigram
I heard it said once
That attractive to an artist
Does not mean "pretty"
In the average sense
But more something that
Is interesting to look at
And makes you want to
Keep looking
To him, I can look for hours
And want to keep looking
He is the color burnt umber
Like coffee and cream
And purest black ink
Not blue-black, or brown,
But the undiluted purity
Of a spilled ink-pot
Shaped by the delicate curve
Of a calligraphy brush
Into perfectly, haphazardly
Beautiful curls, erratic and
Bold
And his eyes
Those eyes
Like coffee, taken
Without cream or sugar
But turned amber by sunlight
And sweetened by laughter
Making what might have been
Intimidating, with their darkly
Charcoaled outline that
Marks them as Arab
Instead as sweetly inviting
As the warm half-light of dusk
And so addictive
I've been looking for hours
And I want to keep looking
Categories:
undiluted, arabic, art, beauty, color,
Form:
Free verse
Life in its simplistic Nature, undiluted.
Categories:
undiluted, morning, night, voyage,
Form:
Monoku
Rachel
Rachel, sweetest looking peach on such a high branch
A teasing sway in her round hips, full of undiluted
gorgeous femininity
Eyes as blue as sky and a voice that is felt all over,
more like a warm breeze than sound
Aesop might recommend the lesson of the sour grapes,
but his Greek eyes never saw such a perfect
northern beauty as Rachel. He would have to
eat his words and tell his tale in reverse; how this unreachable
treasure made all the low hanging fruit taste sour
Damn!
Categories:
undiluted, beautiful, beauty, for her,
Form:
There will always be a last time
Fragile web, I can't confirm strength
threads spun together into the complex tapestry
Existential thinkers of the abyss
searching for light in the dark
and attempts to stake out a way forward
Phoenix bird, more than just an act
Picture becomes incomplete
the pieces scattered by the wind
Don't lose track
one question at a time, a wine glass half finished
where stars explode
Caught in this swirling undiluted power
unfiltered heart that is deeply rooted
The lighthouse must be lit
Swallowed poisonous syllables
the light from the computer screen stings the eyes
long-term parking - accept your own limitations
Categories:
undiluted, death, life, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
Thankfully, the mid-term elections have come and went.
Thankfully, we'll suffer no more TV ads related to that event.
Thankfully, we'll not receive any more phone calls from politicians.
Thankfully, we'll receive no more mailers outlining their positions.
Thankfully, the prognosticators will find something more productive to do.
Thankfully, we'll hear no more political twaddle for another year or two.
Wouldn't it be novel if the promises made by those shysters came true,
Or will it be politics as usual and 'twas only undiluted scatology they spew!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
undiluted, humorous, political,
Form:
Couplet
A WORLD WITHOUT VINCENT
Vincent is the beauty of the day
With a sparkling body that shine
And make the earth smile beautifully.
He stands in the midst of the earth
In greatings to all it habitats in perfection
Vincent is the light of the world
Whose brightness surpass the day.
He stands above the sun with his
Glamouring teeth to revolved the world
round the sun which cause day and night
He is the stars and the moon
That clear the darkness and
Separate the night and day as an enemy
Vincent is the conquerer, the hope and the
Miracle whose words rekindled the death
Vincent is the air that never crack in noon
Technology that rule the world to naturalism
Creator of immortal man that Exist to nurish
The world with their undiluted breast milk
Under the unfriendly atmospheric weather.
Vincent is the fire and the treasure
Which lies in the undying belly of the phonix.
Vincent is human with an immortal heart
Sent to love, hate, protect and secure
The inbalance nature yet to balance.
Vincent is a movie, the art, the music
The rhythm of lonely women's heart.
Vincent is a poet Whose pen bleed
To create a change to the world
Whose pen' blood hurt so many.
Vincent is love, the night of the night
Darking the world to make human rest
In him lies hope for the voiceless
He stitches the boundary between the have
And the have not in the lonely society.
Vincent is the uncorruptable government
Singing unpreached righteousness to man
While men sleep, he covers their hearts in
The closet of his fortuned wide palms of love.
He sees apple of hope in Every creature.
Vincent is the sweet death in men's shoe
Devouring them happily every morning
Then covert the dead into foetus in wombs
Dust to foetus, man imperishable and immortal
A world without vincent exist in a dream.
Categories:
undiluted, age, art, beautiful, blessing,
Form:
Blank verse
I was a little girl holding mothers hand-
unprepared for the harsh and brutal image
of my sister being run over by a truck
the image raw graphic violent and terrifying
I will always remember the chilling scream
my mother screaming and screaming and screaming
it will haunt me forever-
the bleakness the reality powerful fervent
perhaps that is why we were so close
mother and me
until her death we shared this raw emotion
just us-
the scene was garish
a little girl lay dead
in her sweet pink dress
I was naïve unprepared for such an intense
violent death
I was a just a flower growing
so I folded my petals up around me
and there I dwelled unspeaking just staring
into nothingness
mother went to a raw place painful and lost
only the love of a grandma
could reach my shattered tender soul-
she was uneducated and inexperienced
but with untrained skill she opened each
petal one by one and each raw emotion was revealed
somehow mother and I recovered in time (or did we)
and life rumbled on
but still when I go to the wind blown cemetery
and I touch the name suzanne
it all comes flooding back the undiluted raw image
and that penetrating scream to goes on for infinity
and this has made me the poet
I am
a poet born from raw exposed pain
______________________________
July 29, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/raw emotions
Copyright Protected, ID 15-695-291-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Raw,
sponsor, Catie Lindsey
Fourth Place
Categories:
undiluted, childhood, death, mother, sister,
Form:
Free verse
THE TABLE MOUNTAINS
To what shall I compare thee
Oh, awesome sprawling masterpiece of nature?
Is it the Sinai of Mosaic Israel
Or the pyramid of Egypt?
Welcome to the end of the world, or is it the beginning?
Where mountains wear crown of splendor
Adorned with shimmering brightness of early morn sun
When heaven’s tip kisses mountain top
With lips of nature in her most pristine, undiluted self
With runaway innocence beyond the earth reproach and corruption
Graceful, bold and gigantically imposing
Its royal robe perfectly cut of
Meadows and greenery tended by the dew of the dawn
Come view the mountains in the cape
Come, and go, cleansed and cured of all impurities
Trapped in its sharp, cold and warm embrace
Come, see the Sinai
In the west of the black south
Oh! Is it burning smoke or icy cold steam
That engages the cloudy sky at the mountain top?
Or is it the blazing sun, icy steam and thickly fog in trinitary unison?
A trio in a race of space
Wow! Its dawn at sunrise
The mount stirs and time stand still
sun submerged, the steamy, smoky fogs lifted
Revealing a golden morn like the first day of creation
Come see another wonder of the world in South Africa
In the fortress expanse of Cape Town
Cape Town, here I am!
Enthralled, entranced, I am endeared!!!
Categories:
undiluted, adventure, dedication, holiday, inspirational,
Form:
Ode
I drank of true love today
In it's pure undiluted state,
And all that I once thought was love
I now revile and hate.
The glow and glory of real love
Can best be felt and seen
In him in whom it first began;
Our god, our lord, our king.
The greatest love was his to give
A potent product of his word;
Thus when he speaks all things obey
To testify that he is heard.
Because he let me drink of it
I know I'll never be the same.
I sense it strongest in his word
So in his word I will remain
A willing handmaid of his love;
A maid-in-waiting for his return.
“Come quickly, lover of my soul,
And teach me love. I long to learn”.
RETA PRUITT
July 31, 2016
Categories:
undiluted, encouraging,
Form:
Rhyme
Cotton balls
Are they icebergs that float in the sky-
Those looming shapes in glorious white,
Sometimes darkening as they sail by,
Dyeing the sun to make of day, night?
Or smoke puffs that barely lose shape
Drifting by without an upward swirl,
Continuously traversing the skyscape,
Driven by the Earth's unending whirl?
Like giant cotton-ball-wrapped skis,
They glide through the sky’s sea of air,
Stretching out as far as the eye sees,
Shimmering in the midday sun’s glare.
The heralds of the god of showers,
Both blessing and cursing the earth,
By providing ale for all blooming flowers,
Or flooding our cities in undiluted mirth.
But such great feats, who can perform-
Across the sky, fly water like a kite,
Invisible air, give puffy visible form?
A great spectacle, for my daily delight!
May 28, 2017
Categories:
undiluted, metaphor, nature, rain, sky,
Form:
Quatrain
Within the furthest reach
Lie those desires
Who's name one dares
not to speak
So seductive
So intriguing
So intoxicating
So indulgent
Those private passions
Burning at the molten core
of my soul
Luring me to the very heights
Of ecstasy and intrigue
The expression of my desires
Undiluted
Uninhibited
Unmoved
Even in their wildest tantrums
Neither persuade me
nor cautions me
To cease....
Categories:
undiluted, deep, i am, imagination,
Form:
Concrete
Intrinsic…
like a bird’s wing soaring on whispered winds of sun stroked air
across our bare skin light beams dance into the coming night,
a radiant delight of coloured rays blaze forth between spaces
and embraces the elegant touch of discovered elements there
as though light’s flare has enchanted this moment.
A seed of nature plants its spores beneath our flesh to our bone
unknown of its own energy gushing through our veins,
like the grains of sand soaking up the awesome sea we stand planted
in the open land of love below and above we are creations,
mutations of the very life that saturates our soul’s light…
we invite in the essence of everything.
Surfaced senses feel the ardent glow of nature’s fingertips,
willing our smiles to eclipse their poised shape
as this landscape of free decree has flowered in time.
Behind our minds the mountain rises in all its splendor…
a rendered vision without gender they are alive
and as we too they survive by the spirit or sunlight and rain
a plight to behold of extending miracles twinkling gold.
Intervening our divulged beings you splash between
as a gaping gash of rampant illumination ignites the sky
I am high…
as wild existence has no means to lie
Intrinsic…
Undiluted, instinctively we find the juice of life’s fruit flowing,
growing shapes of stars stretched across our shades of gray
as we stand slain for this moment by paradise’s vice
living within a diving clash of endless possibilities…
here…we are set free.
Mad magic meanders through and around our limbs
like a whim to be as one above the ground beneath our feet
as sun’s heat evades the breaking twilight
a trickle of extraordinary white wraps up our pose
and we transpose from the humans of what we’re known
to the resplendence born in our souls.
Categories:
undiluted, nature
Form:
Alliteration
The city doesn’t need any elevators
Or escalators or anything to push people up
There are no clouds in this brightened city
no bourgeoisie emancipation, no atypical beauty
silicon bosoms out on the overstretched skies
mechanical tirades of the undiluted selves
the cubicles at Grande elevators are full of
lowered shallow spaces of begotten lies
should the company now start manufacturing soaps?
or narcissistic pleasures of the condescending physical realm
and illegal sex tapes with real orgasms?
But would any of these have any upsurge
On the emotionless lonely workers
who have thrown people up all this while
keeping a low profile in this profane job
the crowded elevators do not inspire any orgy
or clichéd electricity failure induced seductions
there are just too many of them (not the orgies!!)
the office of Grande, meaning big and great and great as desolate
is densely illuminated with the low intensity money saver bulbs
waiting to die their organic death as they are un-switchable
the products, by the way, are now “auto maintained”
the elevator which doesn't work well
changes itself
the one which is an escapist shoots itself up,
beyond the last floor, turning into precarious ash
the loneliness in the office, which is on the ground floor
is only equal to a fugitive bird
without a pinch of shelter in this extended, tall,
gyrating and syrupy city
Categories:
undiluted, analogy, fantasy, funny,
Form:
Blank verse