Best Unimportance Poems
The weathered years pass with silent restraint
Leave an impression of time standing still
I have counted sunsets without complaint
Life washes over me testing my will
I've crossed boundaries of unimportance
Found wisdom at the rusty gates of age
I've laughed on the dark stage of circumstance
And know life's curtain falls on its last page
To play a fool in the turmoil life gave
And paint graffiti on its coldest walls
To be my own master, be my own slave
I'll open the rusty gate when death calls
I can only ask for the price of years
Find it a mixture of beauty and tears
4/6/15
Bricka
I go to the china cabinet and look inside.
Stuff is waiting for me there.
Nothing of any serious value.
Things collected over a lifetime.
When I am gone, these items of importance,
will change… and be worth even less to others.
I will do the same, in many ways.
That is okay. I am small.
That is how it should be.
He has a place for me.
Not just any home mind you.
A perfect freedom… that has no end.
It is forever! Bought for, paid for, in blood.
How can I not see the importance of stuff today?
It is worth…nothing, but what we obtain from it.
Then it is just plastic, wood, stone, or? all the same.
In heaven there are no “items of unimportance”.
It is a uniquely special place, where all have “use”
and “needs” are met.
Some day…,
However, I will not concern my self today.
Instead, I will look at the items,
and know they are memories.
The blessing…
the pieces of my life, in sweet reminders,
of instances I wish I could repeat.
Thank you Lord.
They make me smile.
The rest…, the things that do not?
I can leave behind.
It is an unimportant matter.
Only You…
I will keep my eyes, on You.
THE MARX BROTHERS or The Unimportance of Being Earnest
I will praise the brothers Marx for their absurdity
As all ‘fools’ who mask high wisdom with the artless
May they lift our spirits faced with an adversity
The rejection of such gladness would be heartless
For when loosed of strictures rife with disapproval
Their spirits could create with wild abandon
Then without constraints demanding the removal
Of that which breaks the sanctity some stand on
So I bless them for activities unbounded
Say our God is not a solemn old curmudgeon
Their folly then belied the earnest tied and grounded
Freed from stark importance laid on with a bludgeon
Could it be they heard on entering The Hereafter
Not only harp strings, but the joyful sound of laughter
10 September
Contest: My Upcoming Birthday Celebrity
Sponsor William Kekaula
She tries to raise her right, hoping to win the good fight
Praying that her daughter is safe and trying to feel right
Never seems considered with the unimportance of everything
If love were items, get a bigger table for what she brings
Her heart and mind are full but inside seeming to disagree
She never asks for anything more than days being pain free
Life was not ever given and she does not expect it will be
But everyone knows life is not meant to be lived in misery
One day she will get to the bottom of what is plaguing her
School and work are diversions in between times to recover
She is open-heartedly candid and singular in a lot of ways
Living her life under the sun looking for any sort of rays
Today, tomorrow, and yesterday time is always on pace.
One day soon time and mankind will lose the race.
God watches us with a marvel eye.
My how time pasts us by.
Some days I feel the minutes sliding through my fingers
There are no moments I know that linger
There is constantly a crowd of thoughts and events.
I always hearing myself saying “where has the time went.
See right now our time is borrowed.
Why don’t shadows ever get followed?
I do not want to be a man with a memory;
That is confined by my infinite agony.
Time brings all things to pass,
But I don’t want it to move too fast.
A continual chain that nobody can explain.
It is nonstop like a spring rain.
The days are such a repetition and it is immutable in rhythm.
The unimportance of time is the gate to wisdom.
"One reason God created time was so that there would be a place to bury the failures of the
past."
--James Long
"Time is God's way of keeping everything from happening at once."
Unknown
Who's heart has not be stirred
when seeing the northern lights
lighting up the sky with beauty
a spectacular whirl of colour
While watching the fantastic show
one is also aware of life's wonder
and of our own unimportance
in the great theme of things
The vision inspired by the aura
is something quite mysterious
the sight of the flashing lights
enables one to grow and be free
Gives one a sense of joy and delight
a belief that all is now possible
friends watch it even if only on line
and take with you the wonder and magic
PS I was inspired by Arthur and his lovely poem
Spring. Same plants, same order.
Monday morning, open for business.
Tractor-trailers, day care centers.
Every leaf that’s coming out is out.
To tonight’s town meeting I will go unaware and foolish.
It’s delicious, the unimportance of my feelings.
Even our particular war was small.
Europe had one last a century.
Hubble photos of events 13 billion years ago
Do not put me in mind of the species’ insignificance.
Just the opposite having witnessed the universe’s birth.
But birth from what preceding state? God again rears his hoary head.
They say one must let go and will let go,
God will decide what tragedy you need.
Not every seed becomes a flower,
Not every branch breaks out a truelove knot.
While the ancient Romans wrote of love
The ancient Britons wrote of war.
The Romans should have been perfecting their republic.
No god could do that work for them.
The November moth's the fall cankerworm
Slender-bodied, beige, beginning life as the well known inchworm.
In our war more children may have died than would have had
the tyrant lived in fear and awe.
We'll never know because we can't help being here.
waiting
all the time in hand I have not waiting
waiting
all patience running of hours and waiting
waiting
for their whims and my unimportance waiting
waiting
as if my past serves me well it take speed to be a waiter
waiting
Brazenly stared within the
irony of irrational horizons,
shadows colorlessly implanted on
an oasis of silent sand dunes - -
no footprints were visible in her wake,
tidal waves lilted in roaring disobedience
kinking temperaments' permanence,
reflective intimation no longer visible
beyond mirrors cruel unimportance
blindfolded in a peculiar fashion,
realities' ghostly animated particles
toppled under relevant significance
to the depths of modified senescence,
releasing disembodied spirit held its own
midst lofty persuasion's undulations,
nullified 'tween composition's banality
somewhere mid fantasy & ascertained ashes,
descent upon apparent illogicalness transpired as
transcendent lucidity mocked hazed transparency,
naked truths became clearer as they blurred into
ludicrous relinquishment 'tween rebellious renditions,
whilst flimsy breaths reprised figment's fanciful betrayal
3/25/01
FUTILITY FOCUSED
On unimportance
Perfection is put off
Till tomorrow
4/3/01
these shelves
have been emptied out
memories of a love
incinerated
all past tenses
blank name tag,
blank face serves
as testimonial
loneliness
****
On a personal note 4/10/01 my first birthday out of prison and my dreams are being realized…
Furthermore I have completed my first painting and have plans for two more my life as an artist is beginning to flourish and my hard work is starting to pay off and the lone thought resonates…
Praise God!
Two poems for mom---01
[snakeskin/ picture of fall]
Mother
As ancient time is not anxious
Of humanities youthful squabbling
You permitted my discourse
Allowing for the conclusion
(Mothers are wonderful in that way)
all the while operating
under the assumption
that serpents molt and
trees shed leaves to grow
Hermit
How many shells
Has this hermit
Discarded?
Growth is deemed necessity
And the shells,
Of who I used to be
Litter the beach behind me.
4/15/01
Lean
Lovers
Hover
Close to each other
While I have grown fat
And my Coffee time-thick
The complements we have are each other
Pine needles whir
Like birds in a thistle
Words flow from my tongue
Like the whir of a whistle
Porch side
Pool table
Reminiscence
Slightly awakened
With spring warming
My essence
Cool wind
Blowing white caps
On my skin
Ten thirty
Two coffees
Sundays about to begin
It’s so hard to be stuck in the middle of what the hell is this thing, the feeling the
thought that goes through my mind is twisting and turning, contorting the corners
of my brain till there’s no more room for imaginable thoughts just demons and
ghouls in the night they haunt your dreams
The dream-maker’s dead, gone to heaven never again to make dreams for the
little sleepers in their slumber under blankets of comfort after a hard day’s work
that didn’t seem to end
until it did like it always does and melancholy sweeps the streets of a dark
afternoon with drab shadows of a creep come and get me you can’t have me, I’m
invincible, for now but tomorrow’s another story; little girlie prayin by her bed little
girlie reading books she hopes will stick inside her head to find acceptance
maybe love; to be loved is that the greatest gift?
Desire mercy beg pardon for our sins for the guilt that rises in us for the
inexpressible wrongs we right we can’t right the wrong the spirit in the night is
darker than this thing hovering over my head only to hurt it and be hurt by it to
grow up those are two different things all things considered the sun also rises
on the other side but not till we’re asleep. Always sleeping, ever-awake, time
stops, the panic smarts, the day of yesterday is lost, the unimportance of what’s
passed is forgotten like my lost cash. I need your stash
I’m fallin harder every time I fall more often than not as my brain turns inside out.
I shall try to awaken myself to a new beginning,
realizing the unimportance of always winning.
Maybe I can write a book just for us sweet ladies.
Go out and buy myself a new elite Mercedes.
Trying something new to keep me grinning.
A fresh start would be nice, wouldn’t you agree?
Research my kindred lineage pedigree.
Wake up every morning to a dawn of a new day,
or is that over-used phrase just too cliché?
Accept all the good and throw out the debris.
What I have always loved to try with all my might,
is surf those tidal waves under the Hawaii twilight.
It would be an experience I would always remember,
but it has to be New Year’s Eve, late in December.
O, what an exhilaration, I would call it “my try night”.
So as each day passes I shall try to do something new.
Make sure to tell my hubby, “I’m always loving you…”
Be the greatest woman I could ever become and more,
the one who everyone tries to appreciate and adore.
I shall revitalize in faith…love who I’m becoming too.
Trying Something New Poetry Contest
Nina Parmenter
October 23, 2018
I am on my way to a new discovery
Of myself
A skewed imagery portrayed
Its figure dismantled, unrecognizable
By its beholder
And by its creator
Insignificance is no longer relevant
Unimportance cannot begin to describe
Purposeless casts some light
But it forms a shadow
That covers the real chasm
Of an uneventful spirit
Unhindered and uninspired
Deadend by a path left empty
And it seems to go in one direction
To nowhere
I attempt to reevaluate my image
But it just stares right back at me
And reflects off the colored glass
As it becomes a duplication
Of a person I don't even know
The wind blows seawards
towards eternity.
and thoughts are drifting
into the future far
and almost inaccesible
to our mind.
Deeds of the past are lost in unimportance.
The factor time shows us, the human beings,
our limits
To see me is to look
through storm clouds
To view what I have hidden
in the depths of my gaze.
To hear me is to listen
only to the half breaths
And recognize the difference
between solace and anxiety.
To judge me is to walk
barefoot along broken trails
Not knowing where it takes you
while caring only that no-one follows.
To know me is to feel
ancient memories you've not lived
The unimportance of associations
compared to the peace of avoidance.
To feel for me is to dance
to music playing in your soul
And to stand at the edge of nothingness
as if it were a pathway of healing.
To remember me is to forget
what others may perceive
And find the beauty of the woman
who travels the verges of both worlds.