Best Unhearing Poems
Oh, unfeeling God
Am I ever permitted to know
why the one who was still so much needed
was the one who was chosen to go?
With all my soul I beg of you
turn not your ears from my plea.
Oh, unfeeling God
Why my deep pain do you not see?
Oh, unhearing God
You know that I would have given my all
if I could have kept my beloved
until I too, had answered your call.
I would gladly have carried the burden,
would have taken his illness and pain.
Oh, unhearing God
Why do you keep me pleading in vain?
Oh, far away God
Was Heaven’s need so much greater than ours?
If so please give me a sign Lord,
I have searched and I’ve searched in your stars.
I beseech you to love him as I did
So he will not feel so alone.
Oh, far away God
Do you not hear my sad moan?
Oh, forgiving God
Perhaps I loved him too much Lord,
in the way that I should have loved You.
If so I now give you my solemn word.
I did what I thought I should do.
I taught him to be good and true.
Oh, forgiving God,
Did I forget or neglect to thank you?
Oh, loving God
For my selfishness I vow to atone.
I’ll praise you each day for the blessing
of the child I forgot was on loan.
He was your own precious creation
whom you trustingly put in my care.
Oh, loving God
Will you comfort my pain hard to bear?
For Paula's " Beseech" form won no. 4
My house bound kitty sits beside
the tightly closed back door.
I cannot let him out for fear
he may come home no more.
Bold coyotes watch our country home
for any chance of seeing
an unwary duck or chicken
or any warm blooded being.
My neighbor's cats were slaughtered
right in front of her startled eyes.
So I have to turn unhearing ear
to his imploring cries.
I do not blame the coyotes.
Their hunger must be sated.
Most of the land where they once roamed,
has now been fenced and gated.
My kitty has never been hungry, but
he still hears the call of the wild.
His mother was a feral cat
and he is his mother's child.
By: Joyce Johnson
Written October, 2015
Trashed # 3 contest sponsor Broken Wings
crows feeding loudly in maiden hay field
in the noon sun
such a dark sound these creatures
such a ancient place they call to in the heart
'no good has ever come from this'
he recites to his unhearing heart
as he moves into the field
seeking the towering oak tree in the far corner
along the broken teeth of the field-stone wall
seeking the solace of the cool shade
and this feast of crows he must scatter
he must reap now that the devil has sown
must gather unto god
what man cast down in this dark place
this noon day sun of perils
this godless place with its murder of crows
he shouts a prayer as he treads near the tree
to scatter these spawn of darkness
they take to wing
there in the shadows he finds the mans corpse
the plague had claimed him
madness of its fever had lead him here
so here he will be buried
by the village priest
taking up the shovel he digs a rough narrow hole
and covers the corpse
carrying the shovel and the plague back to his village
so it came to this quiet european town
so the black death spreads
so the plague destroyed europe
Now there are special classes for those like me--
"special-needs" people. That sounds so much
kinder than the harsh terms in use when I was
alive: "retarded," "not bright." The people in
my little Southern hometown seemed to think
such descriptions were acceptable if they were
accompanied by "Bless his heart!"
Oh, they didn't think I heard, but I did.
Most "normal" people in town really loved me;
others simply couldn't hide their pity.
While those around me went to school and college,
played their sports, married, had families, and
went to work, I learned from them, my family, and the
town. As I loved the Lord and people, laughed, lived,
and grew wise in my own way, I observed some who
lived good lives--busy, but not too busy to care and
listen. From my sheltered spot, I watched others
as they multi-tasked, made money, got promotions,
built big houses, and drove expensive cars,
but never really listened to anyone except superiors,
who demanded their allegiance. These people
failed to care until they couldn't care.
Pity "normal" folks with hardened hearts, unseeing eyes,
and unhearing ears--the ones who pity those like me.
entered in Skat A's Premiere Contest Number 13 on September 24, 2016
Are you the one that blocked the sun?
That fired the bullet from the gun
That laughed aloud at what you’d done
To this fair land that cash built
That sat on high upon your throne
Surveying what you bought and owned
Unhearing of the anguished moans
Of this fair land that cash built
Was it you that sowed the seed
Nurtured it with savage greed
Watched it grow to barb clad weed
In this fair land that cash built
Did you set the tiger free
To spread disease and malady
Then killed it with unbridled glee
In this fair land that cash built
Did you cast your mantle dark
Extinguish love and caring heart
And dance upon the final spark
Of this fair land that cash built
You put Cuchulain’s name to shame
Sold you’re soul for foolish gain
On you’re children ladled pain
In this fair land that cash built
Hearts beat in shallow chests as brains tick in empty heads
Unseen eyes glitter as to small hands pull to big triggers
Money wouldn’t let go as it dragged the world behind it
If bombs fall killing everyone do they make a sound?
Lies come from microphone equipped stages as the masses keep a clapping
I watched millions die for greed of the liquid black gold genre
After he lost faith the son of god sold out and did Nissan car commercials
Truth is swept under the rug by the politician janitors
In the jails of hate of race only people stood
Only language of government, propaganda
Nations bleed white vomit as they all turn into one
Open your mind to your own thought not just what your taught
Flags of freedom flew high creating shadows of corruption
Someone asked quietly did he find his nuclear weapons?
Our violence took control as we laughed at history
Calling voices from the gutters to an unhearing feeling
Indicating that this is a mistake and it may be too late to start to cooperate
Even religion took its place behind the rolling tanks of destruction
Thought is the only thing left to save
Kneel to our new god, fear
I'm drowning right here as I stand on dry land.I need you to hear me and then understand.
With each passing day I wither and fade, I seek for a vessel as my cards all get played.
I have always been taught, You make your best hand. While around me I see their heads in the sand.
Gasping for life yet finding no cure.Dumping dead weight all over the shores.
Ive been beaten and battered again and again.while serving this sentence till my lifes at its end.
Im drowning right here in this open fresh air.My eyes slowly frozen in place like a stare.
You may think that I'm living but look once again,No floatative bouy would anyone lend.
Ive sent out a signal..With words just like this..a signal that shines through the dark and the mist.
So many around me have turned away heads.blind to the pain they climb in heir beds
Unhearing they slumber,with only sweet dreams.
As I cry through the nightime, they dont hear my screams
I'm drowning right here and almost dont care.This sign on my forehead"Of danger beware".
I'm drowning, I feel and the darkness I fear.
The deeper I sink the darker it gets, as Im sunken by sorrow, pain and regrets.
Im drowning right here..right here by your side.
Im drowning right here.Please open your eyes
RJM2015
As my legs grow into trunks and my arms into branches, the leaves of my leavings fall and sprout seeds among the grasses.
Spreading my roots through the mud, bringing myself a sort of immortality, though fickle it may be, comes about like destiny in its thunderous Ill-natured glee. Helpless be i to stop or divert the urge in which the need grips hopeless in my earth. Acquainted with tunnels and scar well enough to know how marred and barbed are the vines which strangle and tangle about me.
Pleading cries lie flat upon descent to the unhearing ear. And now true motives are clear and what I fear has come stomping.
And stomping.
And stomping.
Oh yes, they come stomping.
Huge bronze bells peel muffled engulfed by sea
above unhearing in depths deaf to thee
drowned the dead the lost tsunami friends
not figuring quick and sharp their ends
black churning death coming from the sea
no distinction twixt them you or me
death some surprise shaken a shock from the sea
xept not dying in autumn like you or me
God please grant them heavenly peace
God please grant them peace
chancel and naves filled ghostly a new congregation
gentle barnacle claimed pews giving us no separation
School bus drivers stay aware with eyes peeled
For cyclists who are out there peddling wheels
Watch out for those who travel on foot too
Students who saunter along as they do
The elderly, blind and those unhearing
Hold safe those on the bus you are steering.
Ever wonder why a willow would want to weep
While dreams haunt you as you sleep
Somedays blur by
You try ,
But in doing what is right, hold to your heart and fight ,
is at the same time doing what is wrong
Life in no song
Dreams make you weep
The pain is yours to keep
Empathy makes you want to stay away
At the same time, I guard what I say
If I attack
The pain I get back
It is all so hazy
To a mind stuck in crazy
Maybe it is just ,that I am lazy
Afraid to try
Must I just always question the why
Why must I care
To be fair
The world turned its back on me
That's what I see
It made me cry
I did not ask why.
Still I try
Tell a story to all the unhearing ears
So lost in their own fears
Showing a picture to unseeing eyes
Blinded by all the lies
It is the unfelt tie that does bind
It is just a closed empty mind
Afraid to leave the past behind
You seek
For a little peek
Trying to see
what is yet to be
When all is placed out in the open
But you only sit there without even hoping ,
For a tomorrow
With less sorrow
Lost to today
Lost is the way
A world passes by
So Afraid to try
It fails to see
What the world could truly be
Time leaves us behind
Each Lost in their own mind
Looking for what is wrong what is right
They lost sight of the light
For only this will lead you to your path that's true
It will show in all you do
Your actions should point the way
It will be in all you say
But you will never arrive
Without the faith that this is meant to be
Just open your eyes so that you may see
Your Long Angular Feet
You don’t know me, but
I been riding here in this trundling lounge car
for two hours now, watching
you and your long angular feet,
while rumbling over these burdened tracks,
to silent Garden City, up there in Kansas
on the high wheat plains, sky bound!
I been wondering what your name is.
Alas, it is really none of my business,
but your silent intuitive look,
your expressive knowing gaze,
has intrigued me with repentant ambivalences, and
guilty acknowledgements within my mind,
far beyond any understandable explanation,
far beyond the passing distant New Mexico mountains,
as they inertly move with silent dogged violence,
out there, in the whirring passing blur,
beyond these curving airy Amtrak eyes,
of blue tint and orange penetrating glare,
wrought with distorting apparitions of yellow
and green wheezing monsters of morning light,
with the Super Chief masticating eastern miles,
like a termite boring ferociously, slashing
into the railroad ties of unyielding time;
And so we sit, staring out this bubble window in the sun,
and I been wondering about you.
I been believing you’re educated, I can tell,
by the look of your pursed lips,
indicative of past heartbreaks and meltdowns;
and I been believing you’re a democrat,
by your descending, unhearing stare,
indicative of past arguments with fools
who sleep near obelisks, set in old stone.
And as you gaze far away
through the lounge car windows,
deep into New Mexico, its heart and rocky soul,
I wonder what you’re remembering there,
smiling, at peace with your intended purpose.
It was really nothing to me or anyone else,
nothing earth-shaking or profoundly circumstantial,
but you got off in Albuquerque,
you and your long angular feet,
and you walked away, like a dead person
in an old film reel.
I
It was unfolding of the fear.
The blue sky was falling apart
and filthy brats would lift their shriveled arms
to hold it, for time being.
Something for everyone
to stay in emptiness of a palace:
spiritless, voiceless, unhearing
for the sake of human culture,
A robot was ready to plant a kiss
on your lips and you can be bedded
with a humanoid lover.
Take a break for the dirt on your eyes.
Some saboteur will smuggle the blueprint
of a fusion bomb one day
pure on the glass eye
promising a fatherless generation.
SATISH VERMA
Let me be a light
A beacon
A hope
For the sightless
Let me be a shelter
A home
A refuge
For the homeless
Let me be music
A song
A melody
For the unhearing
Let me be faith
A message
A word
For the unbelieving
Write it on the window,
in big bold letters.
Write it on the wall,
in wet black ink.
Spray it on the overpass,
in bright green graffiti.
Write it with your finger,
on an empty desk
.
Yell it loud when you're mad,
tell it when it suits you best.
Spread it thoroughly when you're depressed.
Laugh when its mentioned,
whisper it to the listening wind,
pray it to the unhearing gods,
throw it for the dog to catch,
nail it to a wall and frame it,
eat it when you're hungry,
write it on the back of your hand,
scribble it on a blank page in your notebook,
lick it on your strawberry sucker,
just never forget it's there.