Best Unmetered Poems
Is it a crime
To pry apart rhyme
Stitch lines, unhitched
From native consequence
To warily marry
Unmetered time
By forced remorse
Unrehearsed
In patchwork verse
In my malaise
My daydreams ablaze
I long for eloquence...
to drip, untripped
From my lips
The devil rides
my prideful hide
Chastise with whip and spur
Damning the span
Between who I am
And who I wish I were.
3/6/20
In uncontrollable destinies,
fate is visible, signposted with faith.
In limitations of the intangible unforeseen,
tribulations from tangible organisms,
leave a heart yearning to release
the force from kundalini kismet.
What am I,
but a speck of dust,
spinning from nothingness,
composed in a complex analogy,
but more than just a meaningless metaphor.
Pursuing conscience consciousness,
a misunderstood muse in a poetic garden,
sowing seeds for a wallflower soul
to bloom as an orchid in Eden's orchards -
to feel mercy from heavenly raindrops.
A once, dysfunctional mind,
scribbled as an unmetered sonnet,
but with an eagle spirit
healing from wounded wings,
caged within a circle of sins,
polishing the heart to coexist.
Firmly planting my roots into
the mouth of mother earth.
Feeding on morsels of
atonement and redemption.
Eternally exploring self-reflection,
wishing internal paths lead to steps
with simple sentiments of silence.
Hoping illuminative energy liberates,
to ease the adversity of climbing
towards the zenith of zen -
to flourish in sunflower serenity.
Clarity, clarity, surely clarity is the most beautiful thing in the world, A limited, limiting clarity I have not and never did have any motive of poetry But to achieve clarity.
George Oppen
If it wasn't for poetry,
how would we portray stars of clarity?
Moon would appear silently ordinary,
how would we express that which is contrary?
Verses without stardust shimmer would be horrid,
no metrical composition would sound torrid.
No sapphire skies nor turquoise tides.
No ivory shores nor firefly guides.
No magic of butterflies dancing under moonlight.
A travesty of no lullabies to ease before midnight.
Horizons would appear blank, dismal and dark -
your muted muse would forfeit their spark.
If a poet's conscience suffers a premature death,
how would you honour their quill's last breath?
How would you express that painful goodbye?
No legacy for our words to poetically beautify.
Unable to honour memories of the deceased -
an unwritten elegy cannot praise a masterpiece.
Autumn would just be a modified season.
Spring slowly blossom without a reason.
Summer would bring no wonder in flowers.
Winter would be grey with freezing showers.
Would music suffer from atrocious lyrics,
unmetered songs only lead to hysterics.
Would poetic love exist?
Would our lips have ever kissed?
No expressions to defeat hate.
No epodic justice to fate.
No sweet sonnets to revere.
Shakespeare's world would disappear.
Romeo would not woo Juliet.
Literature students would forget
bards who bled ballads before us -
what would lovers have to discuss?
No angst or alliterations.
No 3am damnations.
No syllable creations.
No lustful flirtations.
An end to narrations.
All lost translations.
If there were only ugly words,
would it be the end of singing birds?
No emancipation of the oppressed.
No catharsis for the depressed.
Hearts would repress and suppress.
Demons would stress and digress.
If it wasn't for poetry,
I would still be a mystery.
I would not speak in rhymes,
there would be nothing to define.
My soul a misunderstood metaphor,
drowning in an inkless reservoir.
Life would become a burden,
as petals die in my poetic garden
and after everything has been said and done,
there would be no Poetic One.
You must strive to find your own voice because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all.
Robin Williams - Dead poets society
Poets are born,
not manufactured.
The moment when life said:
"Recite a poem for me."
Verses began to flow,
like moonlight shimmering
upon tides rushing to the shore.
Tongue spoke in silent tones,
in a language forgotten in time.
Emotions that had been internally burning
bled a scripted sadness of sentimental scents. .
A perpetual periodical anthology of adversity,
hidden behind an enigmatic encrypted haiku,
about a lost soul's suffering in chains,
caged within the nonsense of syllables.
An unmetered sonnet,
where the world saw common rhymes,
as unforgivable idiotic crimes.
Not all metaphors make sense.
Still the quill yearned for meaning.
To write in evergreen sanguine blessings,
creating a vocabulary reminiscent
of blossoming phraseology -
but words can be misinterpreted.
When eyes lie with fake flattery,
this gifted madness you call poetry,
is like a curse for a wordsmith.
The mind becomes bewildered,
drifting in heavy hues of longing lavenders,
wondering where the spring flowers are.
Some remain content with withering thoughts,
but my ink is immortal in sowing perennial seeds.
Last night,
I had a dream -
after so long,
I saw your face..
Those eyes looked straight at me.
I felt emotions not felt for so long -
like I was the moon,
my tears fell like stardust.
Finally,
I began to breathe,
sleeping but walking awake -
before you took me in your arms.
One soft touch,
I was floating,
lost the sense of existence -
time was frozen
as you carried me through marigold horizons
I felt - everything would be all right -
in angst there was contentment -
for a moment I was happy -
as you sang me a song
then
you paused in a sweet gaze
I still recall your lips move closer
before we touched - motionless.
Lost in clouds,
tongues wrote sonnets
for angels to recite -
but they found shame
in unmetered rhymes.
We walked upon ascending stairs,
until we reached majestic gates -
then you let go of my hand.
The sun was cruel at dawn,
I awoke once again alone -
with scarlet marks left on my mouth
and your sweet scent left behind -
but you were gone.
I wondered if you would return
for one final kiss - maybe a slight touch
slowly, time stopped ticking -
upon my last breath
I pondered if you would read my poems -
just like the night we made poetry.
I dedicate this poem to Thomas Cunningham,
who I admire for the tales he tells in poetry form.
MUTINY
I stands at the bow
Proud to lead
I get the first catch
and splash
Pretense while I breathe
as if our lips our sealed together
in this hallowed breeze
The skill of his hands
that masterfully guide
the ship to the seas
My intricate gown
he sees only in his dreams
as he feels the form
underneath
with his intrepid heart
His feet firmly planted
on deck,
this captain of mine,
steers the ship
He must think of the coins
the greed, the gold
under the nose
of his crew
They often smirk
and besmirch his name
under tobacco’d breath
and the stench
of a whore’s perfume
My hair is in disarray,
I dread his fate
under the hallowed moon
The thunder roars
from a shotgun
into the air it soars
In chains, he’s still in charge,
his thoughts for me alarmed
I’m pale and soaked,
the downpour mad
And so am I
My knees bend
My hands fold
My head bound
to see you through
You stand at the brawny depths
where the sirens roar,
where tremendous teeth
and hideous fins
nearly frighten you
I beg for your pardon,
plead for your soul
The head shark
leans in with stain’d fangs
mercilessly mocking,
tearing up the captain
with dead man tales
The compass spins
wildly as the traitor
vehemently describes
the fishbait before his eyes
The treasured bride
asks for a trade
her life for his
The sand sinks her knees
“No, no, Josephine!”
her sisters on her trail
“Take ours, us two,
save both of them!”
The Lord wipes his tears
and takes the dears
into his arms,
safe from the storm
The tables turn
as a sail
slices the air
rebuking the mutiny
and the crew they stare
as their daring
is circled and bit...
one arm, one leg,
one ear at a time
They’ve seen nothing like this
Then their eyes open
A light from the bow
They rub their eyes
but still they see the captain’s bride
She smiles like the crystal sea
She waves and disappears
The crew drops their gear,
unties the captain,
begs mercy,
unless they go down with the ship!
10/10/2020
Unmetered narrative
“joy, empathy, compassion
on an upward arc
an effervescence eternal
causes bliss ignition to start” ~ Unseeking Seeker
I unlock the crystal frames
of these honest eyes,
to the sizzling sparks ~
the seraphic wings
of iridescent effulgence,
swirling and swaying in silence
between spaces of rising stars.
It’s a priceless adoration,
this soul’s cosmic compassion
surfing in sync with persistent passion,
in lyrics that Kundalini light illustrates
to the chakras of nameless existence,
where material mists
do not manipulate my faceless muse,
nor impress the magnetic rhythm
of flames entwined in faultless faith…
O phoenix sun ~ peace pursuer ~
my clarity verbalized in calm vowels,
I cradle the intuitive
activator of awakening,
an ambience of amplified auroras
alive and aroused by the hypnotic scent
of ivory roses,
blooming within inner conscience.
For you are the glass sky
that stirs my spirit in patience ~
unclothing the confusions
that cloud the
cerulean of my heart’s eden,
for love is a reborn feeling,
enlightening the weariness of breeze
to return like empathetic embers
amidst the
air flowing in blissful balminess…
Tonight, I b r e a t h e
the resurgent radiance
of everlasting agape,
hold the warmth
of relentless rippling romanticism,
as fingers quiver in quiescence,
as thoughts place their trust
in erasing erratic errors of ego,
that once blinded me from attaining
the divine affection
of desire draped in the formless
flowering lotus blaze,
listening as this ink release
the rhythmic runes of resistance,
engrossed in effervescence eternal,
to feel the
fuel of fragranced illumination…
So move through the pulse
of these metaphors
and alliterated verses,
melt into the unmetered mellifluence
of magical monologues,
so effortlessly,
whilst intoxicated by the stimulation
of deep awareness ~
O beloved dawn, I am the manifestation
of ineffable metamorphosis,
I speak in coherent reveries of peace,
wearing the tiara of truth,
crowned through
woven zephyrs of zestful trust,
as you now remain,
sculpted into these amorous veins
like an unreadable engraving,
a pristine presence;
heaven handwritten,
only my conscious sighs can render…
Bye -Bye Becca good- bye, but why, it’s not clear?
How can we dance if you leave my sweet dear?
You’re a big girl; your life, your choice, your year
Come with me and enjoy the dance and cheer
How can we dance if you leave my sweet dear?
Time to let loose, take your first batch of beer
Come with me and enjoy the dance and cheer
Would there be a chance, will you consider?
Time to let loose, take your first batch of beer
Ignore childish gibberish their insignificance
Would there be a chance, will you consider?
Just keep in mind you make a difference
Ignore childish gibberish their insignificance
From time to time risk is necessary
Just keep in mind you make a difference
Respect you deserve in your sanctuary
From time to time risk is necessary
You’re a big girl; your life, your choice, your year
Respect you deserve in your sanctuary
Bye -Bye Becca good- bye, but why, it’s not clear?
It is so frustrating having everyone always telling you what you could or couldn’t do
10/3/2016
unmetered Pantoum
Plunge
into
the joyous
waters of life.
Nourish compassion
with graceful fountains of
love, replenished with caring.
Bathe in the light of awareness.
Drench your soul with spirit’s sense of peace.
Shine forever, cleansed by raindrops of hope.
The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
The Etheree consists of ten lines of unmetered and unrhymed verse, the first line having one syllable, each succeeding line adding a syllable, with the total syllable count being fifty-five. This concise form is meant to focus on one idea or subject. You may use punctuation as needed.
Articles (a, an, the) are limited to two. “The” used twice.
God is a poet,
his blessings in rhyme
Salvation unmetered,
inspiration divine
His voice calls us inward,
temptation now gone
Where the wings of an Angel,
carry words into song
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Great songs
On your day
In your own way
May your day be bright
Filled with special delight
Let your burning candle shine
From your yum cake royally dine
May your family and friends enjoy
Your birthday with a great poetess friend
Now tell me the big number if you will
I will take it just like a sweet pill
Thirty-one and holding I see
Hope your day is full of glee
Wishing you more birthdays
Writing your own ways
Poetic thoughts
In great parts
Touching
Hearts
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., 8/6/09
© All Rights Reserved
The Etheree poem was created about twenty years ago by an Arkansas poet named Etheree
Taylor Armstrong. The poem consists of ten lines of unmetered verse. The lines may also be
rhymed or unrhymed depending on the style of the author. The first line of the poem has
only one syllable. Thereafter, each succeeding line adds another syllable. There is a total
syllable count of fifty-five in the poem. The Etheree poem is similar to a Nonet poem with the
exception of the 10th line and syllable count. The Nonet only has 45 syllables, which is 16
shorter than the Etheree poem. One may get creative and write an Etheree with more than
one verse. This may take the form of a Double Etheree: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, then 10,
9, 8, 7, 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1; that is the style in which this poem is written.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
~So - So The Clown ~
( Unmetered Quatrain)
So - So the Clown
He's a very happy fellow
He never wears a frown
But he doesn't like to milk a cow.
He likes to play upside-down,
With his very cute puppy, chowchow,
And in every event, he gets a crown,
And he doesn't know why and how.
So - So the Clown,
Likes to wears stilts to grow,
And then he's so funny he takes a vow,
And thumps! He falls, all the way facedown.
Everybody loves So - So the Clown,
And he knows of his job, all the knows and how,
That's why, all they call him So - So the Clown,
But he doesn't care, about that somehow.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2005
October.02.2016
~My New Year Wish For You~
(Unmetered Rhyming Couplets)
With all the love I feel here in my heart for you
I am wishing a most wonderful New Year to you
I wish you lots of happiness and laughter,
From this day on and every year ever after
I wish you a heart filled of peace and love
And every single blessing from God above
Wishing you everything above and health
Consider all these your true cache of wealth
Leaving all bitterness far behind
I am wishing that God,love,peace and joy you may find.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
January.30.2015
ABSTRACT POETRY
words without syllables
rhyme in blank verse;
conceits,caesura,epulaeryu
ekphrasis,spaces
haiku monoku
sans...
euphony
unmetered
consonance, blurred
read..
unheard..
Which Poison do You drink?…………By Peter Onyancha
Which poison do you drink?
When you open your mouth
Your fangs!
Each word is toxic
It leaves a septic wound
Which poison do you take?
When I see you
The shaken body aches
I coil and shiver
From your venom to my fever
Which poison is it?
Raise your arm with brim anger
Bruise me with rancor and scald me
The surgeon and blade
Will piece and stitch
Degree after degree
But your unmetered spittle
Is mortal my Husband!
Which poison do you drink!?