Best Unlatch Poems
The stars will fade again this morning
They died a million years ago
As if to give a little warning...
you've lost your way back home
You left me here without a fire
as if desire has turned to stone
When stars come out to light the evening
they're ghosts of stars, that leave without a song
The moon, ..was drifting,.... watching for the sunrise,
while waiting for the light of dawn
While I was watching at the window.....
however, knowing ... ....you wouldn't come
While, there are dreams that last forever....
some dreams will simply fade away,
And treasured times that we remember
we must surrender in the light of day
..............interlude music.................
I've watched the sun unlatch the gate to morning
I hesitate to leave the window's ledge
Your pillow lies untouched beside the bed
The stars up in the sky... have long been dead
One star is telling me it is morning
It seems the others simply strayed
Some things we want to last forever
are illusions we have cherished, but will often fade away
will often fade away........
as if they're made to stray away.......
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9/6/14 For Craig's Contest: Written for the music by Kevin Kern "I Love You"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vAbytYD5KHw
Look at the stars, look at how they shine for you and everything you do - Coldplay - Yellow
Do you ever realize how powerful your words are
what feelings you bring forth
and, the sum of all your worth
do you ever realize how powerful your poems are?
Does your heart ever feel the feelings readers express
how do you know how they feel
after they read your verse so real
does your heart ever imagine the feelings you impress?
Have you ever seen the brilliance you deflect
what star can ever match
those lovely lyrics you unlatch
have you ever observed the light, that you reflect?
Poet, do you realize how much of you I see in me
no stars of heaven can reflect
those words you circumspect
poet can you see why I pine, for the light in thee .
February 11, 2020
I hold in my hand Mama's old fold-up Kodak
In its steel-blue case shut with a tiny curved silver latch.
I carefully unlatch it, watch the worn-out flaky bellows
Extend like an unwelcome, nonfunctional ********,
Emitting a strange smell I remember from my childhood
Seventy years ago, when Mama sternly warned,
"Don't let me catch you playing with my camera! "
But I did, every chance I got; it beckoned to me
Like the epitome of enticement, the soft furry succulent
Cactus she warned us kids never to touch.
But I did, once … once, believe me, and never after!
And I said her camera was the only thing I wanted
That belonged to her when she was gone.
The cactus wrinkled and died years ago from lack of care.
In ancient mythology the Apple is one of the most sacred trees. Symbolizing good health and future happiness. Since ancient times it has also been known as the 'Tree of Love' associated with Aphrodite, goddess of love.
Beneath the ancient moon the apple tree stands firm
dressed in clinging leaves and golden rays of night
Over by the garden where a ruby heart confirms
a tree trunk stands upheld by the crowning of the light
As stars of Eve appear with sparkling tails of every hue
the diamond shimmering mist of night, befalls
Drenching bark and branch with whisperings of I love yous
it stands still and listens, to a Nightingale's sweet call
This is the tree of love and here, love never dies
long after the giving, it remains attached
Blooming even in the thick of winter, I will now surmise
Mother Nature holds surprises, that we cannot unlatch.
Falling deeper in the well
No rope long enough to catch me
No key strong enough to unlatch me
No light to help me see
Breathing slower as I swallow
Too much water pulls me under
Too much lightning, too much thunder
No hands to set me free
Come help me climb, I'm sure to fall
Without a step or ladder
My swollen fingers getting fatter
My ankles bent and sharp
I'm falling deeper in the well
The blackness makes me lighter
Close my eyes; colors get brighter
As I sink into the Dark.
Written: July 8, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Craig Cornish
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Others shutter windows
at the first metallic whisper—
I unlatch mine.
The heavens rehearse
with the rhythm of sanctuary,
and my pulse answers
like an old instrument
finally finding its tuning.
Lightning does not threaten me;
it signs the sky
with impossible handwriting.
Love has always arrived this way—
sudden,
unbidden,
splitting certainty
to reveal the living grain beneath.
The storm is not my adversary
but my mirror:
both of us beautiful
only when we dare
to break the silence open.
Fledging child grows to unlatch
to turn back on parents, to find own way.
Child's hand uncupped, snapped away, rebellious.
But in time, parents and child reunite
as adults with a different relationship,
with mutual respect for independence.
Though parents still cherish the child, as child.
Do Not Open the Door-
Merely because someone or something is on the other side.
There is no—Back to the Future...
NO redo’s’—cannot always simply just close the door.
Once it is open, nothing stays the same.
Nothing is forever…but there are no take backs also.
Take caution in who and what you let through the door…
Think for yourself… trust yourself…
You must stay your course and not wavier…
When the doorbell dings…Pause a moment and think.
Peepholes are good—peek--see—think…
Don't open the door to strangers and things…
Trust your gut…what you know…
Remember those your mama warned you about…
You can always stand quiet---let them leave…they will
Proceed with caution and care--Be very careful before you
Unlock the deadbolt -- unlatch the chain… Turn the knob…
Is it your Density or your Demise…
Knocking on the other side---
…back to the future… 10-21-2015…the movie…
Copyright © fonda anne….mooreofme....mamao
The raccoon is a burglar …
There’s no door he can’t unlatch.
Baby hand-prints in the butter?
You can bet Raccoon’s found that!
My Secret Garden
I unlatch the gate to my secret garden
Take a step on the emerald green grass beneath my bare feet
As I breathe in the early morning scents
I watch the orange rays rise over the horizon
Roses with thorns remind me to never trust the good
Poppies may look pretty, though they will whisper to not trust the wicked
Lavender chases the anxiety away
Sunflowers keep the storms at bay
Secret garden, will you stay?
Vines twist and turn around my heart
Losing sight in your magical colors
Birds and butterflies flutter in my thoughts
Disappearing words I choke on to get out
Singing songs that are lost, but never forgotten
A butterfly gently lands on my shoulder
Telling me that change is okay
The birds chirp in my ears
Telling me that everything will be okay
Secret garden, will you stay?
I walk to the middle of an old stone bridge
Gaze across a rippling pond
Underneath is a family of gleaming goldfish
Splashing to their own rhythm
Without a care in the world
For a moment my reflection looks back at me
A twinkle in my eye
A child-like smile beaming cheerfully
My reflection dances around like a children’s shadow play
Secret garden, will you stay?
The sun is now setting, the crescent moon rising
I find a swing swaying from an ancient ash tree
Taking a seat, I tightly grab its weathered ropes
Moving my legs back and forth as I look up to the moon and stars
They stare back with their shimmering secrets and tall tale stories
I begin to realize my mind has been vanished of all its worries
Briskly I spring off that old swing
I frolic joyfully as a pluck off a Rose
Reaching my hand into my yellow sundress pocket
I pull out the key to my secret garden
I am okay
I’ll come back and visit you one day, Secret Garden.
I love by latching on too tightly; I thought I could hold you in the palm of my hand for awhile, the way I used to catch the wind, or tried to, when I was small. Hands hungry and determined, I placed you high up on the candelabra, and did not understand when I found you out of reach. And unable to hold you, or feed you, each little weep-drop of wax was a grain of sand, counting every second to a certain end.
But choking fire has its way of leaving chokers burned, and in salvaging my heart and hands, I loved you with my eyes. You never burn to make the room blush, or to sway the sex of lovers. You burn for warmth, to warm and be warmed, and dry the tears and frost and rain from the stricken, in the hopes that one day, someone will ease them from you. Through misery comes compassion, freedom through walls, and you and I are not the only things that crumble. And when I am gone, you will burn; when you are gone, you will burn, and I will be glad not to have been the death of you, so I let you burn.
I see a beam of light coming from the little hole of the broken window
I sit alongside the window & stretch my hand to unlatch it
It creaks when I struggle to open it
It is my grand maa’s partially illuminated & restful room within the serene valleys
There is an old grain storage wooden box & old oil lamp flickers near the window
This room holds so many memories of her husband
She is consort of a brave army man
There is an old black & white picture hung on the damp wall of her room
It is a beautiful picture of this couple
Every evening she sits on the veranda wall for some calm and fresh zephyr
Wind howls, it travels through all the valleys, peaks and hills to meet her
A calm gush of wind tenderly touches her body
I can see her placid, contented face
She has intense & impassioned blue eyes holding many deep thoughts
A flash of remembrance passes between me and my babyhood memories.
I was 10 when I last saw her; she looked young but not any longer
I could never understand why she chooses this room when she has many other
She again gets inside the room to light the lamp
And I see the flickering lantern alongside the casement once again
That’s how she passes her endmost days & nights.
I stumbled on a hovel in the woods
Dug in a foothill roofed with mossy shakes.
Inside, its furthest wall was made of stones
Piled high to make a chimney and a hearth.
Two stovepipes served as draft to bring in air.
No window spent what little warmth there was.
Who built this cell and for what purpose built?
If navvies built some shelter from the cold,
Then why not near to any railroad tracks?
A two day hike from any farm or town,
It made too far a lovers’ rendezvous.
Was it to help someone who’s lost survive?
Unlikely as it was, it might have been,
But only those who know to look can see
So meadowed as it is in growth and slope.
Opposing thumbs can easily unlatch
Its door inviting all who enter in
And equal welcomes guest or ghost alike.
Guarded and closed off, that's what he knows best
It just takes a noise to peak his interest
Don't bother to knock, 'cause he won't letcha in
Caution encloses the world he lives in
Four cats are his passion he keeps them well fed
But fear sends them running back under the bed
He's gone beyond trusting, I'll never know why
He's jumpy and nervous, alertness on high
Drawing the curtains, unplugging the phone
He's almost certain he's never alone
Peering out windows from behind the chair
'Cause he never knows what's lurking out there
He sees his newspaper out on the walk
Won't open the door or unlatch the lock
In this wary obsession, he can't help but feel
a need to distinguish the false from the real.
Baggage within
trappings of illusions,
love packed away
in neat little compartments
gathering cobwebs at
makeshift improvisations,
dusting intermittently
if by chance a light
should shine,
never wholly untangling
the snare
mid a labyrinth of
transparent entrapment,
as violin strings continue
to unlatch the same old key