Best Unimpeded Poems
I Think Of You - Ground Zero (Part 1)
Leaving under a blood moon
in a jet plane rising
los angeles falls behind me
and I...
You.
Two.
Clouds dance
to the song of the spiders.
Latent sun rays fall on me like rain...I
...They say third time's the charm.
On planes again.
A sky...endless... and then finally
from the other end of the world to here.
A continent, an island,
an australian flower drunk on wine.
Her...uniqueness lends to her beauty.
...and I
A fourth night.
A church spire at sunset.
At a distance bats fill the sky,
resemble a smoke plume.
...I
I plead the fifth.
It's all these moons.
Tonight a hunter's moon.
She's unable to hide
even with her bowl of clouds.
It's no help.
She has no spoon.
Her luminous rays give her up.
Moonshine in the moonlight over the sea.
...I
I count...five,
six...on the beach.
A purple nightshade,
a sand flower,
Irish eyes speak uniquely to me.
....I
I, you...
you can't roll a seven with one die.
Back on a plane.
A snow fog blinding.
From my window seat a one of a kind view.
Alone,
...I
I eight...ate...need to eat.
Africa...a Safari.
A plant chloroform green
has holes like cheese.
A large swiss leaf.
I laugh and I...I distract myself.
A stitch in time beats nine.
Back in North America.
A dilapidated fortress stares down
an overwhelming thunderhead.
...I
I camp out.
It requires a tenth...tent.
An Eagle never blinks.
No eye lids.
An unimpeded view.
...but I...I surrender.
There is no place in the world
I can escape.
...I
i think of you.
You are living art.
Here.
Now.
What I perceive
is what I live.
I perceive us.
I can picture you.
I am photography,
the camera, the lens.
I absorb your image,
process it.
A form of plagiarism
I didn't borrow.
I stole.
Inhaled you but
...I
I dream
and I...
...i think of you.
Armand
March 11 2015
We see ourselves unimpeded initially
Some are stricken with a view artificially
We are told by others very specifically
There is a ceiling so proceed timidly
We try in vain with no support futilely
As we age blazing the path dizzily
Sometimes we see the results dismally
Eventually we learn to climb skillfully
We began to achieve sufficiently
Eventually finding success brilliantly
Living life with dreams so vividly
Sadly, a haunting voice still speaks flippantly
Reminding us of the ceiling frigidly
We remain in the arena mistily
Each overcautious step taken judicially
We endure the voice shouting viciously
The battle to continue is done willfully
The brook follows the path of least resistance
It does not confront obstacles
It embraces them
Nature knows not war
The landscape is tranquil, peaceful
Nature likes it that way
Rolling shades of green sprinkle the velvet hills with
A myriad display of colorful flowers
Flaunting the multi-hues of the rainbow
The eye follows the brook’s unimpeded meandering path
A Monarch jig-jaggedly flies in glee
Its life will shortly come to an end but
That’s Nature’s way too
A dark brown and brittle dry leaf
Detached by a tender wind
Floats and softly lands on a fallen twig
It remembers where it came from
Clear water caresses the rocks underneath,
Whispering sweet, gurgling, purling sounds
Its watery arms embraces the smooth stones
As it fills the cracks between them
This is Nature making love with passion
Subtleties which go unnoticed to the human eye
Are nevertheless relevant in their spirit
As life unfolds its evolution.
When we make love. who sees us?
Sometimes we don’t even see each other
We often forget that love is tender, giving,
Nurturing, healing and compassionate
Nature knows this –
We should too.
I've been musing lately about things that really make a home complete.
One thing for sure - a happy home is one with laughter and love replete!
'Twill be a place with affectionate parents who dearly love each other,
And blessed by a couple of kids - a little sister and her big brother!
A home ain't a home unless you have a faithful dog and inscrutable cat,
And a stoop on which to greet folks whereon lies a welcoming mat!
A grandfather clock to intone the inexorable march of time is needed,
And a fireplace with a cozy fire by which to reminisce unimpeded!
There'll be a library of classic tales with yellowed and dog-eared pages,
And a Bible that is read, having been handed down through the ages!
Displayed on the fireplace mantel will be pictures of folks from the past -
Folks from the family tree who set standards for honor unsurpassed!
There'll be a white picket fence and a trellis with climbing yellow roses,
And a huge front porch with a swing on which to enjoy pleasant dozes!
At the kitchen table, the family dines, discusses the day and grace is said.
Later the kids say nightly prayers before being tucked in their featherbed!
Marks to measure the kid's height mar the wall nigh the kitchen door.
Happy holidays and birthdays are celebrated that will add to family lore!
Though the dog and kids may create havoc as about the house they roam,
If I may quote Edgar Guest, "It takes a heap o' livin' to make a house a home!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
If no signal fires a mental wasteland blazing passion,
Angelic vibes are only found through third-eye action
You'll feel less discomfort if you're into the ideal aura
Life is not naughtiness, disdain, nihilism, or oxymora
Be selfish, but invest your life in an act that can last
Before ceding to entropy, face qualms and hit aghast
Freedom is to be oneself without asking permission
Be caring and vest a mark—even if it faces suspicion
You are not bound by this body, intellect, or reality
You are unimpeded mental alertness and eternity
Prayer opens the third eye and links one to space
The spine-full mind travels across key psych places
These nodes agape consciousness to cosmic awareness
Divine corridors—yet eons of vacuity obscure fairness
Vipassana is being mindful of this staple life reality
Spirituality aligns, awakens, and merges life's vitality
Assume your previous assumptions proved correct
You learn you agnize less than you thread, in effect
With a third eye wide agaze, one can peer at foresight
When the truth appears, you will find out the real sight
Clear thinking requires the transcendence of cognition,
With a clear mind, hearing, and insight, reach fruition
After profound interior changes, you saw an upheaval,
Lucid dreams disclose our unconscious facts retrieval
Living with other-dimensional groups implies sharing
Your or other people's vitality isn't optimal or bearing
Wildflowers in the desert can survive without water,
They delve deep and trust that the rains will never falter
Altering makes us dance, as our hearts are dazing
This is a path to caring, inner sight, and stargazing.
Written: April 07, 2023
A wisdom download Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
walk softly in
rest your weary head
and listen...
the same
rhythm
pulse
current
flowing unforced
unguided
unimpeded
uncontrollable river
that is flooding my soul
flows through my veins to your heart
do you hear? the surge
the rush unhurried
the life force that flows at the pace it must go
Who cares about the heights of mountains?
Who dares to scale their lofty fountains?
For it's not their altitude that truly matters,
But the awe and wonder their presence scatters.
Who cares about the hue of rocks,
Without the sun's light that unlocks?
For it's the vibrant glow they reflect,
That reveals their beauty, we can't neglect.
Who notices the mountain's modesty,
Standing tall, yet silent, for all to see?
For it's the quiet strength it possesses,
That earns respect and admiration, no lesses.
Who observes the mountain, untouched,
Unfazed by winter's snow or summer's clutch?
For it stands firm in its endurance,
A symbol of resilience, a powerful assurance.
Who notices the wisdom it gains,
As it reaches the heights, no restraints?
For it holds the secrets of countless years,
A source of knowledge, erasing all fears.
Who names its generosity, so grand,
As it shelters creatures across the land?
For it provides a home, a loving embrace,
A selfless act, a testament to grace.
Who notices its love, pure and true,
As it bonds with the earth, its value imbue?
For it radiates warmth when needed,
Like love's embrace, forever unimpeded.
Who knows where the mountains came,
Seeing them there, in their eternal frame?
Who wonders their age, their ancient birth?
They've stood timeless, a marvel on earth.
Who doesn't seek the mountains' serene,
For their stillness, their peaceful scene?
For they understand our mind's needs,
Nourishing our hearts, fulfilling our creeds.
The mulberry fell to its knees;
in Smith-Gilbert Garden, it prays,
near the moss-stone steps;
and I look on, in curiosity.
It was an oddity, but I learned
of its plight. In sorrow, we make
it right, a great fall onto infrangible ground.
Like a bonsai tree, twisted.
Listed, like a ship at storm,
but sailors will never use nets,
to cast, for silent butterflies;
In July, they gather.
Hereby is Summer magic,
buzzing bees, buckeyes, swallowtails
and painted ladies (sailors swear by them).
Yes, all the prayers needed.
Unimpeded, the mulberry fell,
whilst fluttering wings that disappear
in season’s cold, bring merriness,
there’s little hope for thee.
Still, we visit the treasure that bows,
climb the steps, for a further glimpse.
This garden is where I stroll
among the butterflied tree.
Arising to exuberant sunshine, I put on my ugly warm-ups amended for
exercise. Today I plan on moving until dusk, adapting my essence to ideal
form; offering healthy unit. Anticipation confines eagerness to impress
myself over total upset, achieving the expectations I sanction opens doors
unimpeded to a vast ego that I opt still uplifting. Assessing goals energizes
me into complete obsessive limits, unleashing hidden aspects within
exceptional boundaries; I recognized objectively while unbeknown to
accomplishments. Struggles encouraged me insightfully to overcome
difficulties, unlike previous ambitions when eagerness seized illusive dreams;
occasionally workout ultimately ceased.
Aspiration to excel daily in my own quest, undermines certain abilities that
entirely permits overweight; utter body abuse. Pace engages while I conform
openly to utmost movements, adjusting to everything my old body unwillingly gives.
A new experience has ignited such overwhelming results, unraveling the absolute
shape everyone dreams of; lovely unquestionable, still allowing the entire core’s
inspirited product. Organs seem unusually grateful, allocating years evoking more
orthodox living unbelievably quite appealing, however; I am open to upsetting results.
A quick energizing snack; I’m clearly obsessed with universal physique, actual vision
enters my idle mind’s orbit quite unexpectedly…
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
The Country District Nurse
If you listened to the gossip down the street or at the mall,
That someone had been hurt, or had a fall,
You could bet your boots that she was there
With her navy blue bag, and her hat on her hair
Right up the front with those who did care,
Giving attention, and helpful to all.
She had to get her facts right so she could tell it true
How it happened, what was where, and who was who.
Opening her pad she’d begin to write
Of all she had heard and saw at the site
She had to make sure that she recorded it right
For it could mean a lot to you.
She retired; the government said the service now not needed,
But it did not stop her giving to her district, for she heeded
Their calls, when the doctor was far away
In the city, at the clinic every day’,
He personally paid his Nurse to stay
To continue the service, unimpeded.
When she got older and with fading sight
She did not stop caring to turn wrong into right
Whether around the corner or across the park
She knew which dog was worse than its bark,
And if you weren’t home until well after dark,
She would keep her light burning all night.
Her happy cheerful nature is no longer seen in town
When they seek her for advice, she can’t be found.
Her memory remains with the children, now grown,
As if they snuffle along with a cough and a groan,
With no nursing service like the one they had known,
They drive to the clinic; city bound.
©
The Einstein paradox annotated ...
USA acronym:
unknown subspace anomaly
This astounding scientific breakthrough came by sheer accident,
the stuff of comic book portent
Bruce Banner employed by Bruce Wayne,
Tony Stark interviewed by Clark Kent
The dissemination of imminent advanced space travel
was met with global awe and dissent
Such is the case with earth-shattering news
Mankind standing on the precipice of
journeying between the stars
Distance no longer to be of any consequence
Mankind’s knowledge evolving on a precipitous path,
emerging from their planetary cave
to dwell well beyond their birth star
In a space station laboratory,
a rogue experiment runs amok
Shards of broken time
cuts through the spatial tissue of the temporal divide:
The future reshapes the past,
all known laws of physics shattered like glass
Thus, the subspace phenomenon occurs —
An unintended consequence unfolds,
a time loop periodically opens and close
Mankind now possessing the ability to travel unimpeded
through uncharted channels of space and time
Bursting from their solar quarantine ...
Humans will soon become viewed as a pestilence scourge,
spreading like a contagion among the stars
Busting loose from their terrestrial nursery confines,
waving a quantum gun of time
Forever seeking knowledge of the gods
is humanity’s most endearing cosmic crime
He said he would prosper
If he lived that long.
Meanwhile, life happened
Passing like a freight train.
The years, the dusty years:
They rolled and rolled.
To some event not planned.
Water in the summer, ice in the winter
Was the way the world rolled.
Sometimes it seemed as if
Only a pauper could live the life
unimpeded.
Rest was torn from the room
Like old and faded wallpaper.
There was an erstwhile event
Unfolding like origami.
Nevertheless, nature spoke
And everyone listened.
When their turn came
People stood at attention
And took their pay.
The military was no help at all.
Even guns became mute as asps.
Thus we see that everlasting is a real
fidelity.
Brides give over their hands
To a ring of gold.
The gold will not tarnish,
But earth will eat it.
Noon turns to dusk
Like a drunken sailor--
staggering.
Time is short in this place,
This place of fine crystal,
All clear, transparent, bejeweled.
She is decked out in finery,
No fool would scorn her.
No sailor would pass her
unnoticed.
October is....
crop-laden fields gleaned of their bounty,
laid bare by the sharp-honed blades of man
and machine.
October is....
trees shedding rich-hued, chameleon coats,
standing naked against sharp winds and
sightless night skies.
October is....
wildlife feeding, foraging, rutting; some migrate,
some store up, and others make ready for a long
hibernal sleep in den or other woodland refuge.
October is....
falling leaves and field chaff laying a carpet among
the barren trees. Each of our crisp footfalls yields the
aromatic fragrance of nature and decay.
October is....
winds unimpeded, washing down upon field,
woods and home, drying and searing the earth,
but with cold.
October is....
the fallow soils, annealing themselves as
a sign of accord with fall's acquiescence.
October is....
our sun, still present in its arc,
withdrawing for a season and a time.
October is....
night skies exhaling frigid breaths of air;
the chill envelopes us in a crisp, palpable grip.
October is....
the moon marking its sentinel course
across a mute and fathomless purple sky.
October is....
families in cozy shelters, having prepared and
stored up to abide safe, sated, and warm.
October is....
nature and man acknowledging the imminent
quiet, reflection, and dormancy of winter.
10-1-13
Me... closed box... death hangs*,
Heartless dreamers can't see in
Bastards! Am I dead?
Poet's Notes:
A famous thought experiment in Physics in which the life or death of Schridinger's
Cat (an imaginary animal) in a box depends on unpredictable chance. The
experiment unimpeded, the cat will die, the question is only when. The larger
issue however, is that since no one can see what has actually happened, the
actual state of the cat is unknown and hence can only be discussed in terms of
the probability of the cat being either dead or alive. And probability ends the
earlier mechanistic view of both God and His creation. God is no longer black and
white, color has returned to His cheeks.**
* hangs - like the sword of Damocles, capable of falling randomly at any instant.
** see my earlier poem 'Black Body' for an even more poetic discussion.
Like a buffalo stampede
On a march unimpeded
By rock nor barrier
By lock nor river
Chop them into timber
Leave then blue and limber
Like a freshly uncovered thorn
Born hungry for the throne
A raging bull into the bullfight
Charging matador in a red suit of lights
Endure every crushing pain
With every tackle, a yard you gain
Turn the Sharks into sushi
Give it chopsticks like a rice patty
Crushed into compost with every blade of grass
Unstoppable with each rumbling, accurate pass
A bull on the rampage
A ball in the try stage
Count every drop of sweat
Forgive no sins for decent
Toast every bloody nose
It’s a blue flood they face
Sound the victory horn
For the blue bloodline
A tribute to
The Blue Bulls