Best Unfurnished Poems
3. At the Cabin
("Noh" is an ancient Japanese style of
drama, broadly similar to Elizabethan
tragedy. "The Wind in the Pines" is
my version of a well-known Noh play.)
(The Chokugan = a shinto prayer.
The priest is protecting himself from
the ghosts.)
BUDDHIST PRIEST
Do you live here?
MURASAME
Why do you ask? Who are you?
BUDDHIST PRIEST
Just a traveler, benighted on my journey to ...
MATSUKAZE
What you request is little enough.
But our cabin is sparse, unfurnished, rough.
We are ashamed. It's far too humble. See?
We cannot offer hospitality.
BUDDHIST PRIEST
I am not looking for feathers or feast.
I am a simple, unassuming priest.
A fog is gathering swiftly around:
Please don't ask me to sleep on the ground.
MURASAME:
I am sorry. You cannot stay ...
MATSUKAZE
Wait!
The fog is freezing, and the hour is late.
The moon sails out from the refuge of a cloud,
and I see the form of a man who has vowed
to abandon all license. That, I admire.
Approach, holy man, our wretched fire.
BUDDHIST PRIEST
I am grateful, ladies. Yukihira,
the much-lamented young poet,
put it thus: "If anyone
should ever ask for me,
say I'm in paradise, and I know it:
in Kobe, enfolded by green sea,
and fine women, to dote upon:
no place could possibly be dearer".
MATSUKAZE
Aieee!
BUDDHIST PRIEST
What's wrong, young woman? See,
I prayed this morning, by the tall tree,
two-trunked and handsome. Nothing bad
can come this way. You look so sad!
MATSUKAZE
You have mentioned the name of our dead lover.
BUDDHIST PRIEST
A peasant told me of two women from here,
who both loved a Kyoto nobleman.
He composed exquisite poetry,
but sickness took him, in the prime of youth.
MURASAME
Aiee!
BUDDHIST PRIEST
I think I have stumbled into the truth!
You are the girls who live in the tree!
You gave your hearts to Yukihira,
and now you're ghosts! The Chokugan!
An Elderly.
Introduction tells you,
Who shall you believe?
Listen sometimes to your senses
your sadness or your joy.
If you are downhearted you cannot
perceive any happiness or joy you will
feel stepped on.
Temptation tells you,
Who shall you believe? Even if you open
up a pathway, can you reinforce your legs
to take a stride without your cane?
Can you become independent mount
Up the stairs?
Can you open your Door pay homage
to your unfurnished Home? unable
to set up due to your age?
Or will you act as in a theater playing
the characterization of a tough actor
capable of running after its shadow?
Happiness shares,
Who shall you believe?
Your happiness tells you rotect your image
as if its still young.
Fly with your spirit like a butterfly,
venture through the clear skies.
Intercept your freedom
as long as its lasts.
Rejuvenate your thoughts to reserve
a seat in your positive will power
where you are your own master.
Weaknesses orders,
Who shall you believe?
when you slept young and woke up old.
Why tolerate that body transformation,
why presume you are still young when
definitely you are old.
Strength begs me,
Who shall you believe?
Why are you shivering before waking up?
Because you woke up old, you know it means
You are a looser.
Gather your strength to face your reality,
deny wanting the impossible to happen?
Seek, look, understand, seek, look, feel the truth,
if not, your fate today will wither.
Sorrowful prays,
Who shall you believe?
Your sadness orders you
Remain downhearted as you cannot perceive
Happiness.
Your friendly thoughts indicates you to look far
And open the entrance, where the philosophers
Meeting is taking place, enter and impose
your knowledge, dictate your long lived
teaching, allow yourself listen to the echo
Clapping at the end of your speech.
Courage is the truth,this is who you
should believe the you of the now.
This is accepting all of the above,
when I will come out from that
Door proud of my cane.
Nothing is impossible when I remain
hungry to want to live.
No matter how old or young, I am.
Therese Bacha
17 November 2013
The fire alarm went off at the projects,
but when they got their, no one spoke,
and there was the absence of fire and smoke,
it was just going to be a prank,
and that’s when a crime scene developed
in a project house basement, a dank,
the odor was so bad, it just stank,
it was an unfurnished place,
where an elderly black man
went missing without a trace,
and after completely opening up the basement door,
they found that missing man stretched across the floor,
he was in full rigor, and what’s more,
he was covered by a long sheet
of plastic painter’s tarp,
skin cooked in its own oil and heat,
shoe laces tied to his hands and feet,
and there death and drama would meet,
four homicide detectives and two firemen
stood over the body,
a dim basement with low light,
doing its best to fight off the night,
and they waited awhile,
it was like a nativity scene, Brooklyn style,
not in a manger,
but in a two story brick pile.
Love yourself like an adorable diamond sky and
Outweigh the sparkling rhapsody of pains it brings,
through various ecstatic hardship, thoroughly
unfurnished friendship, and uneven relationships.
Over and over,
love overcomes depression, hate and difficulty
For without love, there won't be growth of glory
and there will be less supply of laughter and
definitely; blessing and inspiration will never
graduate from one graceful level to another.
Verily in love,
we fear nothing,
we tear nothing,
we scare nothing,
for we are a heap of divine overflowing success,
and anything we touch, turns into a sea of eternal
triumph and an extraordinary first-class divinity .
This has graced us with victorious virtues and has
also
effectively brought prosperity to love, making all
things manifest with pure affection in abundances,
Truly, we should smoothly reign and stand in love.
One inch forward two back
Creeping toward a ludicrous goal
Relinquishing disappointment
Seeking internal satisfaction
Psychotic persistence,
Emotional self-government,
Invulnerable will,
Summate its inevitable success
Bent on destruction
Of opposition
Nothing remains in its way
Corrupt hunger for perfection
Double-edged sword it hunts
All lost, nothing gained
Predetermined history
On course for an early end
Egotistical
Self-serving
None could’ve foreseen
Seclusion from society
Inured to anguish
Epitome of sorrow
Unfurnished with tear ducts
Just sweat and blood
Its release is its affliction
Its passion is its destruction
Its serenity is its inferno
Its infection is its only hope
A solitary kernel for lack of succoring nurture aggrieved
From sun's warm caresses seasonally bereaved
With wind's chilling strides constantly plucked, heaved
Lying on fallowed ground whose cloak now desleaved
With frigid mantle over frostbitten spine weaved
Nutrient-rich pores of their cultivating provender relieved
As brittle husk to its fibrous moorings tightly cleaved
So coarse grains to earthen crevices, pockets sheathed
Dormant, but from bludgeoned shell will not secede
Nor Summer's bountiful harvest deed
A sparse, unfurnished bed temporarily bequeathed
Until providentially-rendered elements have new life breathed
Still yet, creator hath numbered all and due rations perceived
Until Spring's availing tides have Winter's corroded channels reprieved
And life's, generating tenants from their frozen prisons freed
Yes, I am a woman
They say I bring good omen.
Yet, I am stifled as a foetus
and consumed as negus.
As a girl, there is no respite
My molesters have their collars coloured white.
Shall I speak or shall I engulf in myself what I perceive
For to render aside humanity and brutality there is no such sieve.
No clouds would set asunder; No rain would come to heal.
I know I would be engulfed in the thunder
and my life would be left unbloomed
Yet I ask this world
For what fault am I punished
When you cherish and blossom; why is my life unfurnished?
I have a hollow basement,
It's unfurnished and devoid.
Love and enchantment, it should have plenty.
Tenderness it seems to lack.
Many hands have offered help,
To my basement that is empty.
Vacant and abandoned,
My basement will always be.
Even though it hungers,
For care and protection,
I cannot seem but wonder.
I just can't help but ponder.
Alone and cold my basement stands,
A soul I call my own,
Why my jilted crypt,as lonely as can be
Shuns the nurture that my vault so badly needs.
My basement is alive.
It contains all of me.
My soul, my heart, my sacred space,
Is what my basement holds.
It's blind to protection,
And you're blind to my heart.
It holds a special part of me,
That was angry from the start.
It's a personal burden,
This sadness I acquired.
Gloom and bleak defeating me,
A feeling that I know.
My basement is hollow,
But I welcome it to love.
When love can make me stronger,
My crypt will always burn.
Sadness echoes once more in my chambers,
pain, residing in me like a filthy squatter,
and my heart is squalid,
unfurnished.
Surrounded in you,
you are the fastness of my echo.
The greatest love of all might be a fake antidote
A distraction to the mundane and insane ongoings of day to day
From streaming through the cement jungle on your tap shoes
Or running in the nick of time
Spilling the cup
Jumping the ropes of change
That’s when you find the great moment of joy
One great supply of unfurnished real fresh air
“Faaaa”
Like in the breadth of living you find life worth living
And your greatest love of all
A cup of piping coffee dark and sane
A glass of chardonnay
A new pair of heels, wheels, or sealing the deal
A dress with ruffles, nothing less than ruffles
A moment with your sister
A laugh with your brother
A sweet cookie and meal with your mother
Bursting through the mundane doors you come out alive and renewed
A prayer to the heavens and your re-glued
Sticking to the point, you’re on the way
It’s a new day
A fresh new day might be the greatest love of all
-Jess
I am naked of you,
once again unclothed by love
unfurnished
I know everything of nothing.
In sympathy of tears
the air gives up its water
Hydrogen
You separate the oxygen.
Locked in cycles
we hold our own truth
pulsating
we pass through aeons.
Oblong,
curved,
rectangular,
squared,
circular,
spherical,
hexagonal,
cubical,
and traingular,
these were and several others,
the shapes,
of millions,
of partitions in my memory,
I was looking to fit ideas of shapes similar,
but fits were far and wide,
I needed to stock likes and alikes,
but all lay strewn,
harried and troubled,
I had to admit,
that I had an unfurnished mind.
And I let the world to its pass
Letting it pass by unnoticed
The never moments never asked
A time only if left unfurnished
I have not a care
I am not to bother the change
Not for moments I’ll like share
Only to have a time I remember remain
Unfettered, unwanting, undone
Rules to a game yet unknown
A perfect seed unsoiled and unplant
A place in the world without a home
And I saw the world to its toll
The truth of humanities with life never lived
To each and all be fitted with roles
For the finality when an eventual age will deceive
Having forgotten to live the day
I remember the life I have forgotten so well
A mind taught beyond words to say
Perhaps the world is just forgetting us to tell
Days passes by,
Weeks flows, nights unfolds..
Yet she’s still lamenting!
Holding a grumbling stomach, but food on the table!
This hunger is draining her till she could cry no more.
Mouth opens, salivating!
Yet denied to manducate but food on the table!
Moment she thought she hit a jackpot,
It just slips through her fingers!
Excuses, excuses, excuses…!
It’s a boring melody that when tuned on,
It chews the pride of her womanhood away!
This hunger sucks out all the mutual needs…
Leaving her feeling UNWANTED!
Frustration creeps in,
The outcome is like an unfurnished room!
She cries “ATTENTION”!
Only got away with a DETENTION!
Food on the table, yet she’s denied her rights…
Her rights to quench the thirst she feels every night!
How is she expected to suppress the hunger in her office?
When being denied pleasures twixt thy sheet???
Food on the table, yet she can’t baccivor!
She rubbed,
Scratched, caressed,
Smoothed her bowl of food...
But it won’t lit up with invitations for her.
She yearns for the comfort of her food,
Too bad, she doesn’t scrap anything…
But only got snapped in return!
Times when she nibbles something,
It’s when after pushing so hard, like a woman in a delivery room!
Food on the table, yet she got to negotiate and begs to masticate!
The hunger…
By Lebo-gfaith (23/11/2015- 01:15am)
It doesn’t make sense,
In a large room I am,
Surprising unfurnished,
The room suddenly burst into an inferno of sound,
I shouted loudly,
I couldn’t hear myself….
Diabolical it was….
It was then that I felt the chill,
I was between the walls and the loud music,
The tune was horrendous,
I could not recognise it……
The music ebbed and flowed away slowly,
Then the noise stops quickly,
I was sweating,
Cold sweat,
Wearing a depressed expression,
I had the time to look around me,
Nothing,
I saw void as void is…..
This was at one time a cursed place,
Where b-----iness took part by evil women,
Those women,
The same women,
Who taunted me and placed me in here.
This is the origin of fear,
The place where anxiety takes over,
The normal sense disappear.
Why have I got into this awful place,
Why did I think of the women?
It was a long wait,
I stood still,
Persuasion to remain was not easy,
I cannot prevent the situation,
I wished I was heading for home,
Yet where was my home,
Did I have one?
These demanding harnessed circumstance,
Excluded me outside of mental signals….
I am in undeniable worse development I have ever encountered;
The burst of light from spotlights above the room,
Played wildly on my weary and old face.
Women’s voices I heard loud and clear,
“We are watching you!”
Blackout came and I don’t know where I am!