Best Unmistaken Poems
Peering in the windows,
Of those lives I barely see,
Except when tokens are procured,
For rides, intermittently,
They look at me, I look back,
Nothing severed or taken,
My pith, unimpaired,
And by them, unmistaken,
Do they think that my life,
Should be transformed to theirs,
With foreign exclusions,
And tainted, quaint stares,
Their subtle indifference,
No case dares to appeal,
Embodies the essence,
Of a world they call real,
So they ask with green eyes,
Should I now switch with you,
Would that make my self-worth,
Somehow, progressively true,
I glance, to respond,
That neither is needed,
Because as tolerance failed,
Manipulation succeeded,
We both yearn to validate,
Our courses of being,
Amidst choices of learning,
And preferred ways of seeing,
For now, the windows are closed,
The Santa Anas, they're blowing,
And those lives which premiered,
Have no interest in showing,
We will then pause to wonder,
If the sill might be locked,
Therefore sealed from exposure,
And no chance to be mocked.
(12/30/01)
and in their cold
condemning eyes ~
I am forever framed
as flawed fragments
bolted to the brutal beginnings,
oblivious to the wings of an end...
yet the intrinsic ink of my soul
knows not the art
of stirring superficial stars
~ fear not my antique antlers
caressed with copper compassion,
I am not their synonym
for emotional emptiness ~
let me breathe away
from counterfeit lies
pretending to be holier
than the highest of halos,
tainting truth with
tomb tongue-twisters
I choose to follow the rain
before the rising
of opalescent light ~
I seek streaks of sleep’s
sweet silver steam
blurring the smoke
above the veiled valley
of murky melancholy ~
traveling through the mists
of memories and magic...
I am tied to the unarmed
acceleration of alchemy,
an ambience of adoration
where poetry is resurrected ~
reconstructed amongst the
rushing resilience of rust...
I am the maternal momentum
of the mystical movers,
an unmistaken metaphor
for what sighs within the
magnetic embers
of locomotive silence,
rapidly ringing the sounds
of the sky-draped sea ~
trace this track of serene tears...
I taste time as
the ultimate revealer
of what beautifully remains ~
deep in the depths
of delightful devotion,
no longer a grey amongst
the steel of stolen secrets…
Descending,
I manipulate and manoeuvre for the updraft
Spluttering,
I spiral down, then briefly up again, to glimpse a glowing sky
Flapping,
I fall forever faster, flat-eagled
Plunging,
I watch the unwelcome gloom envelope my horizon
Tumbling,
I twist, turn and turbulate, ... then the thudding thump
Gasping,
I groan and exhale, a noiseless moan
Curling,
I recoil as innards become outward form
Emerging,
a base inside-out creature crawls and creeps
Tasting,
the tongue-tied intestines and the unseeing socket eyes
Groping,
a gruesome grub befriends the worm and slurps the slug-slime
Engorging,
as flaunted members flail blood and flick licky, sticky fluid
Reforming,
dim visions populate carnal shapes with awful movement
Gaping,
a fearful half-formed and startled face averts its gaze
Residing,
in deep gutter niches... these are my companion dwellers
Wallowing,
I sniff a redolent upswell of dank fissured earth
Disturbing,
I scrape, cleave and wipe away a smear of covering soil
Trembling,
I sense a warmth of body, a stretching of exotic wings
Enquiring,
I mutter clumsy overtures and crude enticements
Retreating,
I hear unmistaken rebuke and a sigh of disappointment
Imploring,
I elevate my utterances and seek a further hearing
Caressing,
I feel a welcoming and forgiving response
Pulsing,
the creature's cocoon gives way to nebulous female form
Ascending,
at first a cherub woman smiles playfully down on me
Transforming,
a stimulating and sensuous siren cavorts and teases
Uplifting,
wings gather me in for a swooping flight of fancy
Revealing,
from above, her intimate view of dwellers in the hinterland
Coaxing,
she fills me now with empathy and understanding
Alighting,
my body-mind lies prone beneath her
Tingling,
I feel her form and thoughts slowly enter and encompass me
Exploring,
I arouse and we gently probe between lips and sphincter
Delving,
I follow our rhythm of kiss, taste, touch and thrust
Wandering,
I experience our ambiguous male and female desire
Playing,
I laugh at how we tickle our innocence and sophistication
Loving,
I know for delirious moments what it is to be another
Consumed,
lost in coexistence with a like- but more extraordinary- mind
"Heart Art"
When one is left speechless by beautiful pearls spoken,
When absent are the words adequate to show as a token
Of feeling humbled and honoured, with appreciation profound,
And totally overtaken by their sweet, melodic sound,
Then one must search, seek to find another, creative way
To express how touched their heart is, all to try and say.
When so delicious are the words, sweet cuisine for the heart,
One must express their elation from within their deepest part.
A thousand words, it's said, lies within a photo taken,
But within a work of art can be a message unmistaken
That words cannot say to describe what's in one's heart,
But only can be portrayed within one's work of art
And when is used the canvas, as well the paint and brush,
Is from the Vault of Love, only then can bring the rush
Of emotions, giving freedom to the passions deeply of,
What makes the heart beat faster, which only can be Love.
Art/Poetry by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2014-11-15 10:44:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
Best kitchen utensil, invented by man -
By far favourite, fantastic frying pan!
Be it onion, French toast or eggs and bacon,
My fancy taste buds, drooling unmistaken.
With a light and magic touch of oil drizzle
Lamb loin is seared to savoury sizzle.
Veggies' blend roasted on a pan, to die for,
Never boil them in water, plain wilted bore!
Ah, pancakes, my goodness, grandma's homey treat,
Made with love and care - will knock you off your feet.
And last, not least, ultimate joy of French fries,
With extra depth - all times blessing in disguise!
I know with healthy eating habits I'm screwed,
In regards to fried carcinogenic food.
I should have dumped my pan pal long time ago,
But in denial, I just can't let go.
Way too late to contemplate of what I should,
It’s panned into my identity for good!
February 22, 2023
In My Father’s Eyes
In my father’s eyes there is meaning,
Undenying in their reading.
A certainness that’s unmistaken,
Obvious in it’s betaking.
In my father’s eyes there is compassion,
An understanding of extreme fashion.
Gentleness beyond compare,
Warmth within their stare.
In my father’s eyes there is laugher,
Playfulness which to master.
Brightness of a sun,
Mischievous and full of fun.
In my father’s eyes there is love,
Pureness of a dove.
A sparkle and a glow,
That few could ever show.
In my father’s eyes there was life,
A happiness of great height.
But sadly when I go to see,
It’s his picture staring back at me.
It’s a great day,
When I can say,
I am the best me,
And you will see.
I will come to you in a dream,
I will be a shout with a scream.
I will be an unmistaken seed.
Balancing every want or need!
I am on a mission you see,
To be the very best of me,
There will be nothing to say.
The Moon will set my day.
I am the need,
The deep seed,
You will hear my scream,
Planting myself in a dream!
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007
Boston Legal raises jurisprudence burdens of proof to a more realistic level
Observant fans of Bergen, Shatner, Spader, David Kelley could be seen as rebels,
Savoring games of assault and battery on real life large and small actualities
Testifying every act negligent or malfeasance and trivial grotesque fatalities.
Opinionated obscure minds, open up objectionable hearts and bankrupt eyes
Negligently embracing the politicians easily spoken but perjured lies.
Larceny lessons from history's changing more lenient laws is unmistaken
Evidentiary episodes expunge the human condition without real exoneration.
Guilty grievances gain feelings of raw emotional desire for monetary recovery
Arresting allegations appealing callous affidavits of due process inspired discovery
Legal litigations of ridiculous actions sequester every man's cross examination.
For - Your Favorite Habit-Forming TV Show - poetry contest
Thank you David E, Kelley- creator of shows like Ally McBeal and Boston Legal. you stinker.
Unmistaken and unread
Words, walk, wakeup
Past the mahogany dresser
And the ruffled feather bed
Behind the sunrise
Where love speaks red
Words, walk, makeup
She is a woman
Unmistaken and unwed
A will-o-the-wisp awakens
under a northern frosted marsh
and leaves, heat-wilted, are shaken
No whispers, just a shiver harsh…
This phantom cold on limbs, so brief!
A will-of-the-wisp awakens…
Quenching the garden in parched grief,
downy hairs stand unmistaken…
Sensory roots in bumps tauten
forearms touched in a foreboding
A will-o-the-wisp awakens…
lights its flame from summer’s scalding
Metallic core will grow its glow
Gently blazing as it heightens,
pouring ripe spice to soften blows
A will-of-the-wisp awakens…
(8/17/2022 Autumn Hints / Sea Ray DBW)
The patterned rain falls from the deep blue sky
Staining the ground with its unmistaken film
The deafening sound of the icy shrill
Is enough to make the heart weep
But I stand within the shroud
Loathing the enemy and envisioning the fire
It remains within my reach
The eternal flame of a lonely imagination
Hello, It's me again.
I was wondering if your doing better.
I'm wondering how you've been.
I hope you don't mind my letter.
I heard that you have said,
That you want me dead.
Your own sister?
You should take your meds.
Really, I care about you,
but when you start making threats like you do,
I can't tell if you are really you.
I will ask who?
Can you stop being mean.
I can tell what you need.
You are losing it, you can't see,
You are becoming crazy.
Good Lord, I just want to check in.
Just telling you to stop shredding your skin.
Honestly in this war you won't win,
If you keep digging that blade in.
I heard you were inking your skin,
Covering up your scars with tattoos.
Soon you'll get blood poisoning.
Please remember that expensive purity ring.
I guess I've forgotten,
That you can't get better than you've been.
You hid in your deep, dark den,
And isolate yourself on your bed,
Just LISTEN to me!
I may be younger, but I'm wiser.
I can't believe you.
Multiple people love you, but you just push us away.
I won't make the mistakes your making,
I won't take the risks you're taking.
I will be unmistaken,
When I pick my path
I will be very sure,
Of the college and life I'll pursue.
And after that a job,
And marriage and family too.
But my first goal in life,
Is to finish out high school,
No guy problems,
And no being pregnant.
No drinking and driving,
Or drinking at all.
No smoking cigarettes,
Or weed no matter how small.
Always saying no,
To those I dislike,
Hope, You won't go far,
Doing what you like.
Again I'll say good-bye,
Because I can't stand anymore,
Thinking about all you've done,
In Failure's Galore.
But even though I say good-bye to you,
I must say the most important thing,
God loves you,
And I do too.
That Other Life
by Odin Roark
Click
Even with flip-flops
The ground’s touch
Goes unmistaken
You’re only a child
But you have traveled this road often
You’ve picked flowering weeds
For your mother
Watched them whither
In waterless bottles
Beneath your mud roof
You’ve held closed your eyes
Wishing for better times
Like now
You’ve squatted your body
Ever so gently
To sleep
Like now
Awaiting the morning
You’ve stared all night
At a starless sky
And another life
Like now
You’ve not wanted to uncurl
The comfort of remaining tight together
Just you
And your dreams
Seems so…
But this is different
You open your eyes
There’s no need to wait
The sun has risen
The wind is drifting sand
Atop your flip-flopped foot
That never moved
Remaining still
So very still
While you wondered what
The second click never heard
Sounds like
But now
You try to smile
You know it must be safer over there
That other life
Away from roadside clicks
Improvised hatred
You don’t yet understand
Your eyes rise from your foot
Last thoughts are of your brother always grinning
Just before he moves his crudely carved queen
His checkmate grin
You close your eyes
You wish you could
Take back your last move
He pens the pensive lines
That prick men's heart unease
And cause some strands of hair
To rise in fear of guilt.
He wears no saintly apron
But communes in truth with God
To legislate on our behalf
In glossy words that talk.
He sees beyound our world
He tells our uncertain future
Like Isaiah, the prophet
With unmistaken flair.
One wonders who He is
That heals with ink-therapy
And like Jesus on the sea
Rescuing the drowning Peter
He strikes His thinking pen
And men's eyes are opened.
You carried the young pine trees from our old cottage by the lake
To our new cottage on the hill, planting them carefully, lovingly
When young and bent crooked; you guided them with a little stake
Over the years, with the sun and the rain, they grew
Into mature, sturdy pines, so strong and so beautiful
They were each free to branch out in any direction
For you planted them wisely, far apart to have room to grow
They shed their needles, sometimes overwhelmingly sad
Their unmistaken fragrance carried on the wings
Of the slightest breeze that wafts gently through the air
How it reminds me of you, and I feel like you are here
Whispering that you love us and have never left us
Then, I shall whisper softly that I will never forget you, Dad