Best Unlaced Poems
2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Contest Judged: 9/6/2025 12:49:00 PM
( 1st Place )
Written: September 04, 2025
They said the songbird
her wings twisted and torn
should quiet herself...
that the sky held no place
for the fragile or the worn.
Yet she kept a sky tucked inside her - a
place untouched by any hand.
At daylight she let her voice rise
and though her body stayed earthbound,
her song lifted past the edge of flight.
The wind slowed to listen,
branches bent nearer
and the horizon seemed to pause,
stirred by her willfulness .
Each note unlaced an old wound,
each chorus pushed against the walls
of a world that once turned her away.
Her feathers never mended,
yet her dream grew wide enough
to shelter every broken one who followed.
From her we understood:
reaching the sky
was never about wings at all.
- - The way we were
in poetic form, underlined and understood,
unlaced and then,
exposed –
Like chapters taken from the vertebral column
reality now realizes the connection
I am curious
how the glossary of you can still remain:
untouched,
unexplained
. . The illustration being plain . .
Who knows
your definition
when,
Incomprehensible is the selection
_______
Pull me in
again,
to the way we were
The electricity between you and me,
is Magnetic
an uncontrollable sensation,
Quite Mysterious
________
You wonder:
While I am bare and unaware
Will tracing space, aligning lace back in its place,
. . the vocabulary of me . .
Somehow
bind,
your section
to mine
To the way we were,
in poetic form
Together - -
We are underlined and understood,
unlaced and
exposed –
Reality now realizes the connection
_________________
~ Just a little scribble ~
Redolent, posh lyrics have hidden flaws.
Surrounded by a rusty sapphire sanctuary
That dampened the beauteous bronze glow.
Gold-sparkly afterglows can be sumptuary.
Surrounded by a rusty sapphire sanctuary
with acidic pollens and nervous neon wisps
Gold-sparkly afterglows can be sumptuary.
built an array of dark and wicked tale tips.
With acidic pollens and nervous neon wisps
Where platinum wings are tightly encased,
built by an array of dark and wicked tale tips.
With ash, in the dawn of solace, unlaced.
Where platinum wings are tightly encased,
I wake anxious, wailing rain, loving the flute.
With ash, in the dawn of solace, unlaced.
Melding dark poem of doom into wool toot.
I wake anxious, wailing rain, loving the flute.
That dampened the beauteous bronze glow.
Melding dark poem of doom into wool toot.
Redolent, posh lyrics have hidden flaws.
Written: January 27, 2023
These footsteps fell harder than yesterday’s
Harder than most actually
Nonetheless, the urge to take what is mine in the world and go is…
Frustratingly close to the heart of who I thought I was.
So these footsteps remind the world that running is…..
These footsteps feel heavier than last week’s
I guess the weight of it all finally reached my feet.
Nonetheless, with cemented shoes like the ones my relativity wore before me
I run.
So these footsteps remind just me, that running is…
There is nothing like running
The wind at the back of you
The rush of leaving what you know you are coming back to
Only somehow the time spent away from it
Feels like the hope you remember.
These footsteps feel as if they have lead me astray
Most of them guide me directly toward the impending finish line
But it looks as if I have never started running.
I’ve unknowingly unlaced my shoes
Exposed my socks to the air they have so desperately been missing
Sat down next to my problems
And
Talked to him about what running is.
Speak to me my muted heart
where went your rhyming ways
The voice of a hearts deepest hour
in mysteries a soul explained
Is your rhythm lost or simply hiding
in the noise of life as it whines
expression tied by hopes revising
sweet serenity and peace of mind
You run and ride with speed in your stride
ignoring all fear of the fall
you dig your heals and hold on tight
then question how momentum has stalled
An erie silence rests within
like unwritten lyrics implore
when inspiration is crushed to dust
supposing your song should be more
Poetry to you is a mountain
raised and balanced in a hand
yet your fountain of speech has ceased its flowing
like the trek across untraveled sands
If inspiration is swinging from a chandelier
opposing the status quo
and insight a vehicle to merely be steered
why now is there no marrow in your bones
Words keeping time with the beat of a life
linguistic expression out of step
lancing the poetess with a wordless knife
a beat-less palpitation in her chest
Return to me dear creativity
like frankincense anointed and blessed
convey the miracle of a heart unlaced
my poetic world at rest
Could it be I feel too much
farther reaching than any sea or the sky
or is this a symptom of insecurity
for all the where the when's or the why's
I am disassembled, rearranged
the safety net beneath me removed
everything familiar suddenly changed
with the muse of my rhythm unmoved
Perhaps when the seismic quake has passed
and my world is as it should be at last
I'll write of how transporting through worlds
was like a dance with a tornado as it twirls
Until then I'll retire my pen
and pray a new melody plays
some new, never known before tune
in the awe of poetic display
When the twilight embraces us, so does the Light
and with the Light comes inspiring encouragement. Quote _ by Poet
When I was a young child, I would lay on the green
Grass and gaze up to the cloudy dim sky.
Captive to the evening twilight.
Sun rim sank and embraced
The boundless horizons breast and moonlight's magics
Reserved silence and cool sweet-scented air.
It's peaceful brief shelter; lashed nightmares dissolved there.
Reflecting on the past days weaved fabrics
Weight as the evening had unlaced
And drew to a closed night.
Those moments my heart would quiver glorious high
As the opalescence clouds veiled the scene.
Time for bed, my bed beside the window I'd glean
The heavens and smile or couldn't help, but cry.
Famished for warmth, I'd wish the sight
Would stay, so much it graced.
The darkness would wake the night with magical tricks
As shadows danced, I'd say The Lord's Prayer.
1/2/2021
A Little Memory
12/10/8/6/12/10 - 12/10/8/6/12/10 - 12/10/8/6/12/10
ABCDEF - FEDCBA - ABCDEF
I.
I am one with who I am.
I own my black body
and I cherish my ***** spirit.
In this world, I cannot deny
either, for they both have
equal claim to my existence.
Together and not separate,
black body, ***** spirit.
II.
Silence: noun, “Refusal or failure to speak out.”
My body, covered with the majestic colors of the rainbow.
The decisions I’ve made, engraved on stone—this is who I want to be.
My identity, concealed within cobble-stoned walls of my insecurities.
Unlaced from the very fabric I considered to be my home.
My mouth, filled with tar—I can’t tell my family the truth.
I can’t speak of it.
I faced the glare of those who disapprove of my existence.
Assorted taboos are thrown at my very difference like stones.
I am labeled derogatory words—words profoundly tattooed on my brain tissue.
The tears I’ve cried would spill over in cups.
The bruises’ I’ve endured would make healing impossible.
I can’t speak of it.
Torn between two worlds— however, forced to adapt to both.
My emotions drained; my hopes of liberation depleted; my dreams of existence, misplaced in the sands of time.
I can’t speak of it.
Let me break the silence.
Meanwhile, our troop moved on down the trail.
One more bear episode needs be told.
We arrived at the next stop with out fail.
It was late evening and beginning to get cold.
Two of us went to the horse spring for a bath
And use the same one to clean our clothes.
As we left the spring we saw blocking our path.
A mother bear and two cubs, ...fear arose.
We hid behind a tree and watched them.
In our unlaced boots, carrying wet things.
As they walked up the path toward the rim.
We knew we couldn’t just appear threatening.
We slowly followed keeping the cubs in sight.
The mother had left the weanlings.
But reappeared on top of a bank on the right.
As she jumped we started yelling and arms flinging.
They ran, she ran, we gathered our stuff and we ran.
Yelling and flailing, we chased them past the adirondack
We...right behind, duck into it fast as we can
and tie the gate before they could come back.
Come back they did and playfully bite on the wire.
The boys were elated and good pictures taken,
To show their friends that none of us was a liar.
Bruce and I recovered after being so visibly shaken.
They finally left, and so came to a fitting end,
Our last bear episode and good laugh,
The other boys had at our expense and chagrin.
On the oldest boy and the “chief of staff”.
We hiked our last six miles with no major events.
Still time to glow for being a trail survivor.
Fontana resort awaited...hot showers, condiments
Then home...all slept soundly, except me... the driver.
© Mar 30 2010 Charles Henderson
Treason Reasons
Concreted cracks, abandoned train tracks,
unaffordable housing built like shacks.
Unplanted seeds gardens of weed,
never having enough to satisfy the greed.
Unseen view, is the sky blue?
Goodwill bought unlaced white shoe.
The frontyard seat on ol' bucket street,
cool air doesn't help that kind of heat.
Battles kill, unordinary run of the mill,
another happy mailman undelivered bill.
Where is our morality? What is our deal?
living here in the now is such a reality kill...
bmdavey@
02/24/16
Half a home, half a home,
Half a home conjured.
Into the jaws of skip
…….goes all we plundered.
Clear out the crap we said
Make like we now are dead
Into the jaws of death
…….our waste was thundered.
Get rid of all the ****
we must not keep one bit
Time now to throw it out
…….in the skip laundered.
Sorted before we die
Life’s reason flying by
Ignoring plea full cry
…….clearout was ordered.
Memories to right of us
Memories to left of us
Memories we now must push
…….why so we wondered.
Things that we knew so well
Things that we could not sell
Into the jaws of hell
…….all now was lumbered.
Stripping our house near bare
Why then do we despair
Should we now even care
Shedding the things we wear
…….necessity hovered.
Plunged into frantic haste
Plunged into needful waste
Choices on logic based
Leaving our life unlaced
…….why are we bothered.
Old memories never fade
Of the shared choices made
Even when you‘re dismayed
don’t count the price you paid
…….when sunshine was thundered.
Back from the jaws of hell
New home that suits us well
Honour the choices made
Memories that never fade
…….not shattered and sundered.
Ivor G Davies
Dear lover,
Sweet lover I met someone today,
Many a compliment did he pay,
He asked of my dreams, asked of my history,
I did my best to remain a mystery,
Dear lover his interest shown through his eyes,
Sincerity in his voice unlaced by lies.
No matter the words escaping my lips,
The fact remains and at my heart rips.
He isn't you, and you'll never see,
How much your words mean to me.
Your silence oh, sweet lover of mine,
Is deadly and bitter as turpentine,
So when did I become undeserving of your effort?
Why must I indulge through other male cohorts?
Double edge sword, their words merely pain me,
My heart is silently spoken for you see.
So I close my eyes, stir my drink
And of our story I sit and think.
Sweet lover you deceived me from the start,
With your deeds you stole my heart.
Others spoke sweetly in my ear,
I'd find myself running out of fear.
Because words are words until they are committed,
I trusted your best foot, and was left outwitted.
Touche brilliant lover you win this fight,
I realize now I never wanted a white knight.
All I need is someone to trust,
Where an argument won't end in a bust.
I need to be worth it, whatever it is,
I need to be claimed I want to be "his",
Sweet lover it killed me to be hidden away,
Kept in a closet until the end of the day,
Snuck in through a window to keep questions at bay.
I may take work but you know what they say,
Sweet lover if you love what you do,
Not a day of work will be had by you
Rapacious Itch
It felt things coming,
The undeniable bottom feeder reality,
Where thought had no credulity,
Where irrational emoting ruled,
Void of mind’s prep,
Blind of light’s revealing purpose.
Such remained
This well-rehearsed and produced
Pulp life infestation.
It remembered…
Once many clambered to the marble steps,
Where dreams born of teachings
Promised delivery of reward.
But today…
All that is found
Is perpetuation of schoolyard practices,
Where bullying,
Mocking,
And “my dick is bigger than your dick” war-cries
Intimidate life’s playground with slippery slopes.
Down 5th Avenue,
Up Park Avenue,
The viral contaminants parlay their wears,
A far more contagious disease than Ebola.
And it knows…
Unlike a possible cure for a biological virus,
This consumerism equation seems without solution,
Given little of non-material worth remains
Visible on the species’ blackboard mess.
Today’s squirming parade of absence
Is dominated by the pounding of urban-warrior chests,
Of Armani jackets atop unlaced “made-to-look-raunchy” boots,
Ken Doll fantasies courting the strut of Barbie Doll dreams
Clicking attention with stiletto heels
Beneath ripped shorter than short-short insecurity.
On it spreads,
Past the Wall Street reviewing stands,
Where unlike the fickle nature of society’s infection,
Market makers understand a fever’s ups and downs,
Vulnerability’s capricious norm endorsing today’s
Debauchery fashion to Trump-taste,
Loudness to drown out worthy music,
Shock to shatter the true awe of discovery,
And the drowning of excellence
As it continues its desperate clinging,
All while mediocrity’s narcissistic sell-off
Creates another closing-bell windfall.
The pestilence holds firm its lock on discernment’s immune system,
Mutating daily into a mind-shrinking captivity,
A synaptic virulence rapidly rendering this once simple discomfort
Into an insatiable itch that will never realize its pursuit of “Ah!”.
The venom is about to be unleashed
The tendom is about to be unlaced
Their trombosis stings
Their diagnosis stinks
Is this recourse for the vile syphonage of our blood?
Just to say that a few slender ones have made the larger homo-sapien suffer…
Is it not the same things that has been said again?
Ofcourse,
They think we do not understand where they are coming from
We think we do understand where they are comoing from
But what is this trend of thought that we tow?
We? ...
I? ...
My head aches from fever
My body arches from a shiver
Malaria is the best form of business development!
Is this not madness?
Sometimes my kind think that chloroquine would be the best
Sometimes their kind think that resistance is the best
That leaves us with a middle artesunate amodiaquine
But which of the two is best?
My people in the heart of the matter have weak hearts
Die people must!
Cry people must!
Run people must!
Do we not do these things now?
Do we not fear & dread now?
They have failed us is the judgement…no, the sentence.
I weep for those that will be bitten; but without tears.
The tears can't flow anymore.
The fears can flow anyhow
Think! Think! Think!
The discourse continues shortly after this bite-out…(BEAT YOUR BODY TO KILL
THE MOSQUITO)
Fourty six years since our lives collided,
on sand swept paths, mostly sunny, some blighted.
I was taking a hiatus from men.
You came to rent a room in my heart.
It wasn't open back then.
A struggling, single mom with a young son.
There wasn't much space for any other one.
I worked evenings and some times slept in.
You showed up unexpectedly, a stranger, not kin.
He was in his pj's with Tenie's unlaced,
opened our front door to your unknown face.
My son, my protector, all of three feet high,
inquisitively asked, "are you a bad guy?"
Fourty six years later, this still brings a smile.
He opened our door to so much more which
made this life worth while.
My words in sonnets, haiku, or "fences"
Only for you my endearing true love
Worry about voice, rhymes, and tenses
Only for you my prettiest pet dove
Carefully I slip each word on your string
Meaningfully picked and perfectly placed
To split your heart open and hear you sing
Sweet, sultry nothings from bosom unlaced
Light in your eyes dispels all my darkness
From your lips honey slips, drips, and oozes
Coats my sorrow and swallows my starkest
Hardest lumps, and my ugliest bruises
I'll write you a sonnet, a song, or haiku
My wild words, I tame only for you ;)