Best Unloosed Poems
He has learned to earn joy from paying sorrow's fee
He has learned to turn and fight and never to flee
He has unloosed the burden of false royalty
Cast off at low-tide to be swept out to sea
His bended back straightens to a minute degree
He walks a bit taller, a better man to be
With nothing to lose now, with no guarantee
A battle-scarred prince bows to one shaky knee
At last feeling worthy to request it of thee
To slip on your slipper, it fits, you will see
THE BLOOD MOON
In the crimson illusions of the blood moon,
The creatures of the night howl and swoon,
As the cursed emerge from hallows of the cryptic
Shadow realm, for it is the devil’s night, of incantations
Mystic spells, known as Sowen-Halloween!
Thin are veils expelled by this elliptical giant on high,
Turning into twisted illusionary phantoms, ghostly images
Of the past, melting as vaporous mists against this intrinsic
Shimmering opal ruby, hanging in the night’s sky above!
Trickery’s witchery cooking within the blackened caldron
Pot, a bitter sweet poisonous treat to feed the spoiled
Kindred of humanity!
Flight of the bat-winged vampiric do soar, reveling
In the crescent redden celestial body orbiting above,
Thirsts insatiable undead, flapping in the night gusts
Under currents these creatures of the evil demonic!
Hell hounds do bay at the unholy, this scarlet elliptical
Transfection mesmerizing these canid beasts of the
Accursed, banished by the flowering bud known
As the wolf-bang behold the devils bred, the werewolf!
In the harvesting graveyard, the unsanctified earth
Moves thus with a shakings dishevelment, as the
Soulless are disturbed within their unloosed soils
Deadened bedding, releasing the tormented,
Behold the rebirth of the zombies,
The walking undead!
In the scattering of the autumn leaves a crispness
Is sounded in a deafening breeze, as humanities
Children scrapper about beneath the blood moon!
Shouting trick or treat, smell my feet,
Give me something good to eat!
But on this specialist of haunted nights,
Others dwell within the darkness,
Waiting for the innocent to misstep into
Their realm of the unknown!
Be so aware human kindred, for tonight
Is Sowen-Halloween, and the blood moon
Does shines above!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
English sonnet
I ponder him who pledged to me his troth.
Our marriage came to shreds with pressure wrought.
He saved each tangled ravel, wove new cloth,
resuming our design with errors naught.
Haphazard doubts occurred which caused some snarls
of jealous hate which anger loves to knot.
Distrust released, his flag of truce unfurls
his calculated plan of love's own plot
Sometimes our banner's hem still comes unloosed
though aging thoughts begrudge, repair we'll find.
Disease destroys and bodies come to roost.
Ere sleep descends, what happens to the mind?
His word has shielded ev'ry other plight.
I have no doubt our God will span that night.
December 4, 2016
contest: Best Friend Sonnet
hostess: Regina Riddle
Between the witching hour and saffron dawn,
When guileless hearts are peacefully asleep,
An evil prowls a wolf amidst the sheep,
With fangs as bloody daggers swithly drawn;
And erelong the warmth of blood shall spawn,
A frenzy thus unloosed from hellish keep,
While all the angels’ watch and soothly weep,
As souls are bled, until ungodly gone.
Awake I prithee, yon morrow blushes night;
While sun forestalls evil in its grave,
Prepare a holy arsenal to fight;
And double-glaze thine eyes with marbled sight;
Your dead, undead shall rise a vampires’ slave,
Then woe to hearts unsheathed eftsoons twilight.
Pick up the plaid skirt curly,
ride to the rave party on the down low
Sneak out the lame pimple place early,
take the cutie to the Hush Hush ‘Mo ‘Mo
Trying to act playa Romeo ... like he know,
but those fumbling hands show
And the honey he brought,
she don’t know too much mo’
Amateur young lovers trying to be pros ...
mature triple X adult for the first time
But they be talking too much,
don’t know when to put the tongue
in the plug
How to get wired ... get electrocuted love
They don’t tell each other that they really don’t know,
so they continue to put on a clumsy show
She talks a titillating tart Juliet,
but she ain’t a grown woman yet
Her body says she’s good to go —
but she don’t know how to pick up the pole,
and vault to the next love level tho’
And the rookie Casanova, with the limp bent noodle,
ain’t got a French poodle clue what to Irish lip doodle
So they continue on with their comedic vaudeville shuffle :
Dumbo gives the bimbo Bambi girl
a hasty, upstairs wardrobe malfunction
This gets dizzy Dolly’s bra flapping like a pigeon
runway model at a pantomime luncheon
Fanny Panty Brice and Klutzy Superfly
starring in a “Dingbat Does Doofus” short sex life
Silly-o omelette loving ... screw ups by the dozen
Doh boy’s first diddle muffins never got into the oven,
cuz he couldn’t get the rise inside the Twinkie to grow
Donut hole girl never got the cream-filled poke ladle straddle,
cuz she couldn’t turn the soft soft wood into hard hard paddle
No tell no ‘mo
what you say you know ... but don’t
No tell no ‘mo
what you say you can do ... but your IQ won’t
No tell no ‘mo
what you say you know ... but you really don’t
No tell no ‘mo
what you say you can do ... but don’t know how
to
make the bosom udders give up
the moo-moo
Baby woodpecker wearing a baby chef rubber hat,
take your baby beaver apron
unloosed string bow
and naked fetch the how-to-milk stool now
No tell no ‘mo
what you say you can do ... but don’t know how
Get the ‘Mo ‘Mo
moo-moo tail tongue pail — Right now!
And go out to
the barn and learn how to milk the cow
Parable
I just want to come before you brother
And tell you a story
Expound on a moral glory
Lord let your word fit my mouth
Convey intended meaning
Making it plain
Christ unloosed the chains
That bind me down
Jesus found that He cared for all
Let me re tell the stories parable
The tree went forth and the olive tree said there are now our god and man
And the fig tree saidv reign over us
Sweetness be promoted over these trees
Ahh! Come reign with us
Come thou now and aniont me king
Put trust in my shadow if not let fire come out of the cedars
Have to stop worshipping the creation need to worship the creator
If upon reading this do you understand this the
Parable
2/5/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2010
mute ‘triloquist
and talking mime
went on a date
for the first time
he threw her voice
under the bus
you should have watched
the way she cussed
she shut him down
with signs that hurt
when slipped his hand
beneath her shirt
but then he gave
her new white gloves
and pantomimed
undying love
now she’s his doll
he needs no strings
unloosed his tongue
and now he sings
Crazy 2020
Up side out – downright up –clocks get surly;
Rivers flow north – time faints – Murphy’s Law scores;
Early runs late now late running early –
One and three just don’t make four anymore.
Rosters crow at midnight – moonrise at noon;
Zebras minus stripes – giraffe with short legs;
Cats with trunks – hippos hop like kangaroos –
Cows give green milk – pink hens laying pink eggs.
Natural order all in shambles – spun round –
Winter's wearing flowers – snowflakes confused;
Mother Nature’s psychotic break profound
Normal now anormal – chaos unloosed.
Year “out of order,” just hang the sign out;
Wait for repair – a screwed up year no doubt.
5-23-20
14 Lines
Squalid thoughts,
Disguised as Dust Bunnies,
Lie dormant,
In a mind's un-swept corners,
Awaiting time and opportunity
To be unloosed from confinement,
By the tongue.
But never,
Will squalid thoughts,
Be ascertained hibernating,
In a beautiful mind.
~ So much exquisite history today,
That piques our curiosity to seek ...
The information midst our DNA,
Unloosed with but a swab inside our cheek ...
But some are secrets, best left ... to mystique. ~
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "When Line Five Enables Your Poem To Thrive" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Sponsor.
the un-struck match, does darkness bring,,
the unfair world's a bitter thing,
the unloosed demon meets his match,
so poor, the former rich do sing...
when logic don't smoke the hash,
yes lassie, per alas,
i'm thinking,
its just a logic swing...
Don
re: Dr Ram "The Matchsticks"
...
In an old vineyard
When Jesus was just a lamb
His coat eight years old
Working with the chaste Joseph
His father and guide
As the beloved Mary
Kneeled and prayed to God
In their small and humble home
A visitor came
Golden and shining brightly
Like beams of sunlight
Shooting through the home’s window
Shooting from heaven
Shooting down from the clear heights
Mary beheld him
Thinking he was her young son
Putting off his coat
With gentleness the child said
“Where is dear Jesus
My dear brother and brave twin
I want to meet him”
Mary never responded
In fearful blindness
Thinking he was a phantom
From the lightless depths
Rather than light from the heights
She seized his right arm
And tied his arm to the foot
Of the worn, torn bed
Not wishing to scare her more
He remained at peace
Not saying a single word
During this event
Jesus held an empty branch
Observing the wood
As if it were a mirror
Soon he heard Mary
Jabbering in confusion
With tears raining down
In this dim storm of wailing
Jesus heard the words
Breaking through the whirling clouds
“A phantom has come
Dressed in golden apparel
Dressed in bright lightning
Saying “Where is dear Jesus
My twin and brother
I desire to see him”
Joseph please help me”
Only Jesus saw the light
And heard the thunder
For he had wise eyes to see
And had ears to hear
He proclaimed with holy strength
“Mother, where is he
So that I may see the light
Or should I wait here
Waiting for the bright sunlight
To break through this storm”
Jesus said these words in joy
Joseph was startled
Mary wiped away her tears
They entered the house
And found the spirit at peace
Still bound to the bed
Both the parents looked at him
Then looked at Jesus
And found them to be the same
Mary walked further
And unloosed the child angel
He bowed to Mary
He and Jesus said no words
For they were brothers
They hugged with their gentle arms
Gave a holy kiss
The angel child disappeared
For he and Jesus
Became one white pearl of light
Thus the empty branch
Bloomed with delicious almonds
Bloomed with holy life
Thus this town was sanctified
Crowned with golden, shining grace
Poem based on the account from the ancient apocryphal book The Pistis Sophia, Chapter 61.
What would I do without my dear friends on the Soup
When I need a pick-me-up, they're there to give me a boost
The love I feel each day
Shows me the loving way
To help me through when life becomes unloosed
Sand only looked to alight,
find some alone-time in the muck
no fuss was meant, it is only a space
as big as a grain taken, escaping its identical
brethren of billions on the sea floor.
Oyster only opened his rigid
lips to rinse, to breathe the brine,
to move a snack through his labial palps
in private, when a tiny intruder, unwelcome,
unbidden, disturbs the digestion,
initiates the unintended consequence
of oyster's defensive reaction.
Called upon, mitigation arrives over time.
Nacre warriors, layer by layer, smooth
sand's edges to soothe oyster's irritation,
an effort that deafens new pleas from a grain
now only looking to go home.
In the dark-churned slime, desire
emerges as a luster in the mud, a dazzling
monster named Pearl, radiant and angry, hard
with longing to be unloosed from her mucous
roots. She sends dreams as currency of streaming
shimmers, to bolster her chances of freedom
from an endless, watery night.
Lured by the glimmer, human hands pry open
shy bivalve, tongue and lips slurp up the middle
like a salty kiss, until teeth accidental onto eager Pearl
warmed by the breath.
For the indiscretion she now sits pocketed in slacks
belonging to hands with plans to pierce her spine,
string her along, then hang her on another lover's neck—
stranger to sand and pearl, already grown
wayward in closeness, is a new desire that oyster
degrade on ocean's bottom, turn into sand and join them
on the choker.
Drifting
Drifting here, mongst would be demons,
Cursing all who come their way,
Laughing how its computer, feeds one,
Smouldering thoughts be yours today,
Damaged minds, so full of hate,
Working making misery,
Oh I can upset you in the thousands,
Makes me feel, a bird of prey,
Subtle terror on your computer,
Worms unloosed to your dismay,
Killing off your computer boota,
Darkness fills the void n stays,
Always there amongst the human,
Hatred of mankind does stay,
Black heart demon, a world beater,
fickle fated, ironic clay.
The biter it gets bit for sure,
Payback only ten times more,
“Sow and reap” kicks down your door,
Ironic twists the knife, the more,
Know the feel, I’m sure implying,
What comes next, just after dying,
Haw haw haw,
It’s frightening…..
Don Johnson