Best Unmanned Poems
O hear I chant clinging to a sullen northern shore,
tempestuous serene rocky beach that you so adore,
sultry soliloquy sturdy stifled structure sings,
a witness of forgotten sailors and majestic kings.
Them, I blessed with gracious shelter in storms,
for I unmanned, rejoiced in accompanying norms
dreaming of worlds afar with anchored symphony,
of parting tears that await a returning euphony.
O watch my ancient red-bricked watchtower in sky
where the cherry-eyed albatross prepares to fly,
whispering of solitary voyages on vessels adrift,
guiding them through entailing waters, cold and swift.
Them, I engulf in mystic hues of radiant green light,
their shivering agony embraced by divine joy so bright,
dancing to tunes of prodigious waves as they kissed,
my feet reuniting with the ocean bed of forlorn mist.
O taste the pungent waves that carry eternal seasons,
timeless frequencies sprinkled on heavenly reasons,
essence of leaves rolled in snow and streams they fuse,
beads reborn of universe in a cradled hammock cruise.
Them, I absorb with their enchanting viscous tides,
they melt with innocent bliss my truculent slides
that flourishes my solitary light to let me sense
melodies of blushing mornings with visitors hence.
O touch my abandoned walls, barren yet strong,
bereft of warm embrace in a lifetime so long;
them I nurture with tears of melancholic grief,
to be held by tender nights of melodious relief.
I await the echoing hums of a delicate little girl,
her fingers orchestrated the howling wind with a twirl,
I became the serene light that guides despondent ships,
a proud beacon of benign hope dissolving dark eclipse.
From high above the mighty eagles soar
and gaze with teary eyes upon the land;
a proud and peaceful nation thrived, before
the bombs began to fall with czar’s command.
Their saddened eyes see blood upon the sand
as innocence lay scattered on the shore;
they’re witnessing the slaughter now at hand
from high above as mighty eagles soar.
Her cities lay in ruin from the war;
her leaders pleading for a helping hand;
the world in horror watches evermore,
and gaze with teary eyes upon the land.
Atrocities and pillage deftly planned
erasing all the joys from days of yore;
the villages and townships now unmanned
where proud and peaceful nation thrived before.
I cannot see the reason for this gore
nor endgame of this despot’s evil hand,
and history repeats itself once more
as bombs begin to fall with czar’s command.
And what will be the outcome of this stand
when smoke has cleared the war which we deplore;
and who will be the next at his demand
as angel’s tears begin to fall once more
from high above?
July 1, 2022
What loathesome burden wears your weary heart
a trinket on a cold and hoary hand?
And in its dark tide drowns the cheery part
to keep you bound, a pet, upon its strand?
Without a keel, alone and sad, unmanned
to sail the main and brave the tempest storm;
it claims the fairer part with stark demand,
and wails its horrid knell upon reform.
Stand now and rend the pall that kept you warm
and stagnant to the early morning light.
Cast out the deaf'ning rage of crushing swarm
and air the sweetness of your bitter plight.
Release your deathly grip on this disease,
And from your fingers let it fly the breeze.
I've walked barefoot through boiling sand, you don't even know.
Tried many times to grasp your hand, you don't even know.
To letters written then burnt; signals typed then canceled -
I rode this crazy train unmanned, you don't even know.
Sent roses signed anonymous to inspire a smile;
I sat and watched but didn't stand, you don't even know.
A picnic atop the roof, watching stars reflect off
of blue eyes . . . all this I had planned, you don't even know.
Timothy stutters at the words so instead he writes;
he's tried his best to tell you and you don't even know.
A beggar clump adorns a dump, his pencil box in hand -
With sightless eyes upon the skies he’s lying there unmanned.
He’s fallen down in Shantytown, his knees too weak to stand,
With no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.
The Bowery blight is hid from sight, it’s covered up and bland,
And Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.
THE DEEP OCEAN OF THE MIND
The warm pebbles touch my foot, my sole,
In the turbulent shallows of tide and wave.
My waking self feels the moon and sun pull.
And hidden in shells are beauteous oyster pearls
Of a magical lustre seen in watery dreams:
Galleon bullion from a billion seagirls.
But in murky muddy layers, the hates and loves
Of embedded past events undisturbed
Cloy the skeletons in cupboards of past lives.
Pressing my sleeping soul on the seabed dark:
Beyond the headland and my protective shell,
Cold-blooded reptilian monsters lurk.
In this unmanned land far from the help of mermaiden,
Tentacles grope up from the bed trying to reach the surface:
Threatening to expose what’s hidden.
Grand dreams are ground down, drowned, and end as sands
In a dark land oft-sifted by watery muses,
Where new events sink to be added as new oozes to old beds.
In these sands of time of the weighty deep sunless,
The tide of current events has no pull.
Only memories exist : the fossil remains of my history timeless.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(Form of this poem is tercet with slant rhyme)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We are hours into the mountain riverway, the current unfriendly to us
paddling earlier had simply strained the men to burning exhaustion,
those who have the shoulder strength are paddling the two larger canoes
while the other six vessels are being pulled along in the side shadows with elk skin rope,
their feet and ankles paying the price,
an incredible sight is rapidly, dramatically coming towards us,
two hundred yards from where the river bends
an unmanned horse is galloping in our direction
with a confident craze in it's agility as it stomps through the rocky mud shore to the left,
running like a messenger of madness, reckless and unstoppable in passion,
a white, grey spotted horse, mane long, white and smoking in the wind,
it has already run past my canoe 50 yards off shore
but Sheild's canoe, being pulled very close to it's path
and McNeal has gotten a rope to lasso this animal,
in trying to claim it they have only sped the horse's instincts
McNeal nearly trampled, has gotten a face full of rock water for his effort,
that beauty is long gone, but everyone saw the sign,
the hip of the horse had a skull, and crossbones of rifles painted in black,
suffice it to say our hearts are humpin hot!
down here where we are predictable targets confined to the river's warpath
in order to saddle up on the upcoming banks some of our men must remain exposed
everyone else has rifles lead ready and hugged, telescopes spying space,
Clark and I kneeling with plank boards for armor, rifles in hand
Sacagawea standing inbetween us at the nose of our trespassing vessel
breasts uncovered, her son Jean in her arms swaddled in a U.S. flag
repeating a Shoshone lyric of peace, her clarion voice of sincere spirit
echoing through the mountain passes like an angel of sapphire wisdom
in this methodical moment of cautious maneuver
I realize that I love her,
I love her like eyes love color,
she is so above the ordinary, so forbidden to me,
we must clarify to the unseen onlookers that we are no warparty
but that we are no laundry squaws either,
20 minutes later we find a suitable shore line and disembark swiftly,
there be no indication of Indians, no presence of hostility,
J.A.B.
There's a man named Dan of the Land
His poems humorous, never bland
With a flick of his wrist
He writes prose with a twist
From a mind that is always unmanned
Tears of a child so wet and free
Sometimes sad others glee
Comforted by a Mothers' touch
A hug a kiss assured a hush
And when not a youth
But almost grown
The well of tears go dry
As life's' will is sewn
As a Man a soul
Cries much less
Emotions controlled
Unmanned duress
A stronger faith
A hope a prayer
Spiritual strength
When no other
Is there.
As the crow flies
I died. No child under nipple. No child under bib.
I died. Without ever having loved or been in love.
I died as the crow flies. Straight and placid.
I died. unmanned, in holster, uninhabited.
I died coralled up in moments, to tangeled to give an inch.
I died as the white birch tree lives.
I died in the desert. A sponge for the sun.
I died in a boat capsized in the ocean.
To small for the August Grunion run.
I died as the pen dries,
leaving letters undone.
I died up in fetters.
Rusted tension.
I died never forgiving my father, or mother, or anyone.
I died never apologizing to my sister,
the one they didnt want.
I died wrapped up in blankets
frozen to the ground.
I died not crying for help, no telegram, no telephone.
I died never sending a single postcard home.
I died never knowing my name or names of my friends.
Oh, i died, and i died
as if never have lived.
Venera one
Mission Venus
Yuri Gagarin on Vostok
First man in Space.
Mars One
First woman
Valentina Tereshkova.
In space.
Leonev’s ten-minute walk in space.
An unmanned Soviet Craft Luna Nine
Soft landing
On moon
The first probe in lunar orbit
The first unmanned rendezvous and docking
The soil samples brought to earth
Ram’s probe on to the moon
First and only daughter
Luna brought on earth
Exact date
Exact time.
Dr. Ram Mehta
=================================
Fourth Place win in:
Contest: Magic Decade's Mood sponsored by nette Onclaud
A piece of ocean next to trees and sand
Scattered across treated mahogany.
Across a face, and a ship now unmanned,
And rolling waves, fingers trip sloppily.
Splitting the pile into organized stacks
Here end pieces, there yellow, and here blue.
Out of nowhere a playful cat attacks!
Ocean falls like rain, every piece but two
The cat bounds away leaving destruction.
Scattered pieces, mangled ship thrown on beach
Nothing but a picture for instruction.
Marching forth, I took the puzzle by siege
Gradually the pieces come together
And are ready for your viewing pleasure
Bombing Indonesia
So they broke the law and smuggled drugs etc. How about we drop some 1000lb bombs on Jakarta and nuke each individual Indonesian air force, navy and army base? FOR A BIT OF FRIGGING FUN? FRIG YEA. What comes around goes around.
The Aussies lied on scrapping their F-111s. A recon bird flew high over Indo land. She drew up the motley bunch of Flankers and got splashed. As intended. She was unmanned. Manned F-111s went in and cluster bombed the Indo bases. F-18s gave top cover.
When the flankers showed up, the F-18 pilots confirmed what we all knew: the Indo Flankers had no missiles. Just a gun. Every Flanker was brought down. Their F-16s did better and splashed two old Hornets. But the Indo F-5s got three Super Hornets, in turn being wiped out by the Super Hornets who were actually bombers. A pilot smelling blood is a rabid dog. Reports of gunning civilians are that, reports.
There were some who said that Indonesia under the Soviet dogs was better armed. Equipped with Badger bombers and Fishbed fighters. Could they resist Australia? And bomb the F-18 bases? Or be like Saddam Hussein and wiped out? Indo Flankers did no better. War, all for a few executions...
How many ship wrecks have you seen
off our Irish shores?
How many fishermen sank to the bottom,
After pulling hard on oars?
When fierce tempests gather,
you send out your beam.
Hoping to guide them to safety,
so you need not hear them scream.
Steadfast you stand strong
against the mighty waves.
Unmanned now, you're on your own .
So many lives you've saved.
On silent nights we view you,
with our feet firmly on land.
Reassured you are keeping watch,
on that poor loansome boatman.
11/04/2016
They just lie low
Waiting to pounce
With deadly results
On innocent people
And causing unfathomable
Mental and physical damage
These are strictly speaking
Not people with heart and soul
They are unexploded ordinance
Best diffused with bulldozers or
Unmanned air combat vehicles
But best of all a change of heart
A feat the troops of God, Allah
And other Deities might as well
Employ, if they are not complicit!