Best Unfaltering Poems
As the sky weeps
in periwinkle petals of
multicolored roses,
rinsed in lemons, and lavender,
the poet within me
releases a bougainvillea
bouquet of unfiltered gratitude,
swaying to the celestial duet
orchestrated by
the angel of raindrops,
adorned in braided
wildflower crowns and
windswept wishes,
echoing dulcet melodies
rendered in whimsical accents.
I ponder, if tears had a tune,
would it be the
sound of drizzling dewdrops?
Would you then feel
the pain I carry,
veiled in smoky silence?
Or would I forever be
the silhouette cloaked
in fogs of charcoal confusion,
too dark to be deciphered
by the fragmented eyes
that eulogize
all that sparkles and glows?
But when stained sunflowers
swirl beneath starless spheres,
scattering seeds of sorrow
to cultivate a garland of grief,
puddled with poignant poems,
I remain throned,
as the goddess of black rain,
riddled with cosmic rituals,
sprinkling kaleidoscopic dust
upon forsaken fields,
while listening to the
drifting leaflets in crisp air,
pleading for the demise
of my unfaltering faith,
oblivious to the truth
that I fear not
mists of melancholy.
I surf through surging seas,
unafraid of twirling torrents
and blazing tides,
piercingly striking
shimmering sapphires
floating in deafening despair.
There in the abyss of obscurities,
I’m nestled within restlessness,
in rooted resilience,
like a perplexed paradox
weaving crippled odes to
the sun that longs to rise and sail,
splashing hues of cinnamon clemency.
Tonight, I’m counting crooning comets,
amidst quivering hailstones,
dancing in cataclysmic rhythm above,
to find my home within
an island of daphne dreams
and singing seashells.
For I hear the flaming flowers
in their solitary stillness
serenade rain rhapsodies,
to awaken the petrichor
soul of heavy horizons,
wrapped in stringed
milky-quartz beads,
bursting forth blooming tomorrows,
illuminated by chamomile water,
concocted from charismatic spring falls…
Yet I think of us, engrossed
in umbrella moments,
Cupid too envied this
symphony of romance
where love conquered all,
and grief but a blurred memory,
in sunlit souvenirs of yesterday.
All the people I've known
Are holding hands with the empty promises they made
So they are not alone
When day breaks
And everyone keeps getting in the way
Saying this and this
Doing nothing nothing
Feeling better with the apathy
Someone never held me
And glued me back together
Unless I kept their secrets
Unless I gave them cash
So many friends I've had
Couldn't tell you
A thing about me
Or what I need
We were sounding boards and fool's
We ran the train tracks and begged at the mall
We talked and we got high
We failed to be anything legit
People and their whole lives
Are letting truth slip away
Putting integrity on clearance racks
And faking character with all the right words
But I stand against the wall
I see you and I know what you are
You cannot hurt me with your soul hustle
With your transparent bag of tricks
My perception is true
And my intentions are unfaltering
Even when I shake
Even if I cry
My words are thoughtful
My actions are reliable
Even when I'm lonely
Even if I hurt
A thousand bees never settling down,
buzzed within his head.
Their confused drone, into a ruffled rumble grew,
lengthening into frenzied drum beats,
taking the might of roaring waves
or gaining the momentum
of a plane, prior to take off.
Mind lacking coordination
limbs receiving discordant commands,
he suddenly hurtled into the streets,
stepping out from regimented norms
and breaking loose the tether of reason,
never walking, never running
but scuttling from side to side
like a piece of driftwood over the current.
Hearing the cawing of a crow
suddenly, he into a prophet grew.
stood with arms outstretched,
waiting for the crumb of bread
to be dropped in the manner Elijah was fed
by the raven in his lonesome cave.
Seeing the audience swelling bigger
he was enthused, greatly cheered.
The riff- raff and the scraps
swarmed around to see the show.
Mounting the steps to the pulpit,
in unfaltering voice
and with fire in his words,
to the congregation,
surveying him with fun and sneer, he thundered....
“The Doomsday is near”
With finality in his tone, he said-
“Repent and flee from the wrath to come.
The tree that doesn’t bring forth,
good fruits shall be hewn down,
and cast into eternal fire.”
The transition was quite easy.
He scurried from Elijah to John the Baptist
and from John the Baptist to Elijah
oscillating between--
sense and non-sense.
The haunting strains of "Ashokan Farewell" keep racing thro' my brain.
'Tis a fitting requiem for those who bore the agonizing pain,
Of bidding a sad farewell at many a humble cabin door,
As young men were called to serve in the American Civil War.
Its poignant theme wafts as a gentle zephyr o'er the countless graves,
Of gallant men who faced Death's Scythe in unfaltering waves.
Men who wore either blue or gray and unselfishly gave their all,
Lie sleeping 'neath hallowed soil awaiting Gabriel's triumphant call.
Each time I hear those mournful chords played on the violin,
Tho' 'tis decades later, I feel melancholy for grieving next-of-kin,
And for their heroes left upon the field of strife, lonely, bereft, forlorn;
"Ashokan Farewell" is a sad lament for those who were left behind to mourn.
Every time I hear that tune, I'm reminded and left to wonder,
Why brothers tore this nation, this beacon of hope, asunder.
Thanks to one man's vision and unshakeable resolve,
A united and stronger nation would once again evolve.
Antietam, Bull Run, Manassas, Spotsylvania, Gettysburg,
Fort Sumpter, Shiloh and the formidable bluffs of Vicksburg;
O'er these now peaceful battlegrounds, once ravaged by shot and shell,
At eventide can be faintly heard, the solemn dirge of "Ashokan Farewell."
Years ago, I bought a basket,
Plain, unappealing –
Weave already unraveled,
I only paid one dollar –
I set the basket on the shelf,
Separated, secluded –
And there it stood,
Unbefitting the decor –
I filled that basket,
With defeated dreams –
My lonely heart,
My deserted thoughts –
I loaded that basket,
With yearning love –
My unspoken need,
My every want –
I found myself gazing,
Often, in fondness –
A beautiful reminder,
For somber times –
My hands may be empty,
My pockets uninhabited –
Aloneness taking its toll,
Privation draping its veil –
The basket stands proud,
Holding seeds of intangibility –
Unfaltering in its stance,
Draped with valor, still –
This Christmas I give you,
An empty basket –
Weave already unraveled,
All I could afford was a dollar –
It's Canada's Thanksgiving, today is the day
We give thanks for a country that continues to amaze
Peaceful and prospering
Steadfast and unfaltering
Proud as punch to be Canadian, this oath I convey
© Jack Ellison 2015
PATIENCE
We hear that patience is a virtue
Is this true, or simply virtual reality
When leaders are teaching our youth;
do as I say, not as I do
Regression to a version of the American
truth
Impatience is becoming intolerance
But to be patient is viewed as ignorance
In a blind world conforming to violence
Very few see need for benevolence
Many view crime as way of life
Government fuels fires, causing strife
Committing true crime with their lack of
pride
Our country torn by those who lied
Promoting bigotry and distaste for the
unknown
But these days color and homosexuality
are lactose free
Intolerant of equality, it’s a problem,
clearly
Love is love, embrace the hate
Hold it tightly until it sees the light
Peace pushed just beyond our reach
We realize that “hope and change” was
just a speech
Wars raging through the land we call
home
In God we trust, not this powerful regime
Speak out now with virtuous impatience
Change is change no matter how small
the feat
Restore hope with unfaltering acceptance
and grace
Serve what you stand for, no time left to
waste
Wisdom tooth, the oral root of prophesy
I respect you with all my worth
When you speak my eyes come
I wake up and turn as you order
I constrict like a serpent stung
At your command I fizzle like coke
My champagne foams in your honor
My hands mate at the throat
Wisdom tooth, for you anything
Ice cube in my armpit
Burial in the swimming pool
Tight diadem on the head
I speak in tongues, Tooth!
Make your choice:
I will call you my uncle
my tutor, my referee, my signatory
You are the Untainted Governor, Sergeant-at-arms, president for life
Bishop of my church, Perfect Prefect, Captain who never farts
Head of Dental Department, Commander-in-chief...
You are the Tooth of all Teeth
Your stitch is profound and unfaltering
Your ache indefatigable and mature
Your wisdom infinite yet insurmountable
Your target is spot on
You are majestic and brilliant
Your unrelenting questionnaire
Appeals to the veins
See how my eyes are swollen
My hairs erect, my nose running
I am squinting with respect
My ears are blocked and left shoulder sags
I limp and claim to walk
Mighty tooth, you go anywhere
When I hear you I shiver
This far, you have brought me, Mister!
Look at the altar
I have brought you the sacrifice
A harvest of Chocolate cake, Sugar coats, Sugar cream, Bubble gum, and Candy Lozenge
All I have, I have put at your feet, mighty one
I surrender all
Take them all with you
Leave in peace
I live in peace!
I see smiling faces
friends who surround me
in depths of darkness
when all hope is gone
Friends who surround me
undying love they offer
when all hope is gone,
they come when I need them most.
Undying love they offer
an unfaltering belief
they come to me when I need them most
the most wonderful of friends.
An unfaltering belief
they give to me
the most wonderful of friends
when they come to me.
It was a good day, a Sunday going to church day.
The sun was a brilliant glow.
The weather was agreeable, a welcoming change from the brutally brisk weather we been having.
True Vine Baptist Church looked magnificent under the strength of the sun. It's red bricks gleamed and the turret with a white cross on top crowned the gray roof. Beautiful rainbow stained glass windows were both consoling and inspiring to me.
The interior of the church was opulent, yet simple, as contradictory as this may seem.
So much fellowship love greeted me at the door, and I felt at home.
Being a creature of habit, I sat in my usual chair in the back of the church.
As a deeply entrenched introvert, not the type of person who like to be noticed or called out, although the holy spirit, which is a constant tenant there, often makes me out of a liar.
I opened the program and was glad to see that Pastor Sherline Melvin was delivering the sermon.
Women are heavily designed with complexity and deep emotions, and I am sisterly connected to this wonderful woman who had allowed herself to be a willing vessel of God.
The divine message ; how to kill your Goliath was spilled fluently from her lips unto the congregation with clear metaphors, that gripped the conscious. Powerful, pounding and personal testimony was incorporated into her sermon and it left a bruising effect on the encephalon.
Oh how clear it is that her faith is unfaltering and steadfast against afflicting storms.
It was an Alegre moment.
It was a good day, a blessed day a Sunday going to church day.
Author Mary E.W. Stephenson
Written as a church dedication and documented.
Give me the hardy breed that thrives in the arid wild
The tougher kind that walks with a sure unfaltering stride,
The restless heart that without fear the mountains roams;
Not the sissy softer variety that favors the mushy loams.
I need those manly swines with sun-burned sinew
Not the convenience-seeking boys stained with dew,
I reward the uncertain gambling of the wandering type
Not the sure stocks invested with opportunistic hype.
I have been here for years but a generation comes and goes
And yet some think they can predict me with their fake laws,
I read the speculative greed of fellows from a safe mile away
For my expansive experience spans a million years and a day.
I pick a man of valor from the faking crowds,
In his quiet among the city’s clambering sounds;
None can ever cheat my heart-scanning eye that sees
Beyond the snow-capped peaks and the roaring seas.
And my ears are ever un-waxed to listen
To the crackling labors of any gifted pen
That scribbles this account of my fickle nature
So men may know the traits that give me pleasure.
A glance across a void; a heartbeat trips,
a longing from within her essence yearns.
From Cupid’s bow on rose stained satin lips,
unfaltering, a tender smile returns.
No words in fury, or raised voices plied;
the certainty of eyes forever kind;
no restiveness when tears of sorrow cried,
as unvoiced ear drinks tales of troubled mind.
A strong yet silent presence reassures;
unquestioning, uncritical and staid,
still through the lapsing years as life matures,
unchanging as past mem’ries are replayed.
In frames of time-suspended happiness,
lie photographs of love … no more … no less.
**sometimes, all that remains is a treasured photograph
I Slept with a Female Mosquito..... By Peter Onyancha
(part I)
I Slept with a Female Mosquito.
Waking up, Good morning, but goodness!
Stupid lewd fly; family of the blood sucker
Fretful, I study the plumped mosquito
My science talks to me, unfaltering
My eye bulges and I nod, I see, I understand
Pretentious snout, proboscis, piglet wishes, I nod
Crooked legs, Ague grass hopper
Supporting a red load, Oh lord
Overladen rotund raw bottom, I see
Drooping head, like a sniffer dog
Satisfied silence, night accrued quietness
Anopheles! I scream –
She clutches tighter on the net; what next?
The scandalous vampire, ague hawker
A female mosquito, Anopheles
I lay flat, you lay fat
Goiter! I slept.
Walking along, the edge of the cliff,
What is that prevents the slip?
The horizon beckons you to take a step,
Into the glory, of the dusky sunset;
You look, down, see waves, lapping rocks,
A thousand feet below the outcrop;
Seagull, feasting on overzealous fish,
Divine beauty and the beast;
Vertigo seems a lost affair,
You have conquered your visionary scare,
Surreal, as it appears to be,
The fresh wind kisses your face, from the sea,
You follow the wind path, and turn around,
Unfaltering, you take a stride back to known ground
Plummeting void of primitive desire
All is passion and idolism
An existential angst, consuming your thoughts
What meaning is there behind "the one"?
You're a caveman deep down
Starved for attention
Feeling nothing
And everything
---
Note: this poem is the combined result of two "five-minute-write" challenges (below).
[Write about an emotion: Neutral]
Infinitely white, plummeting void of hypnotic, dulcet tones.
All is monotonal and subdued on the face, but vibrantly conflicting within.
An endless battle with melancholic thoughts.
Existential angst getting you down about the meaning behind your existence.
No expression. Uneasy, and evidently rigid.
Face twitching as a tiny amount of black ink seeps through the stainless blast doors.
Feeling nothing, and everything at the same time.
[Write about something else: Infatuation]
Primative desire, burning sweltering passion and idolism.
Hot, fiery romance and a lovingly fierce flame that ignites within.
Burnt fingers when the flame gets too hot; world consumed by thoughts of "the one"
Overwhelming and unfaltering flares to morph, snap, shape, and join your hearts.
That's the meaningful bit.
But the caveman still lies within. Starved for attention.