Best Unmixed Poems
I read it so, the Bread of Life
without discourse, without contrive
did lighten, nourish, so arrive
that building up, to merit, live ~
That in my lines
I found your strife
did so surround with beauties hive
that honey of discourse revive!
This leavening of love's requiet,
that injured particle, that pride,
that unaccomplished effort's stride
that unforgiven song's abide!
That haste, that entry unrelied
were all a Godly plan, not tried,
that love unsettled so applied,
unmixed, unsettled faith ~ no bride!
Is love, thus meddled with denied,
pourous regrets hidden and shied,
how puffed up, spoiling shape's decried
this fatness trail, unholy mile!
Be waiting, like a homeless child
so love relinquished dies servile ~
to thee I give, last frenzied mile,
wherein thee walk, wherein thee . . . . smile!
Written: January 23, 2024
_____________________________________
Behold tinsel atop snow-capped mountains,
Where towering walls of gathered ice rise high.
Celestial waves flow into boiling fountains,
And flying, thawing spice fills the endless sky.
A vibrant tapestry unfolds as a kaleidoscope
Blurs appear in a realm of multi-angle vision.
The dawn is a genuine golden spectroscope.
Embracing every region, invoking raw allusion.
Sunset beams ignite the top with Eurasian light,
Dying blooms at azure are a welcoming night.
Moon, stars, and aurora borealis waltz with hope,
Velvety, dome akin to sky covers forthcoming scope.
In spring, clay and snow mix to create fresh birth,
Lava flora and ice fruits grow greater than on Earth.
An occult quiet creeps over this view and is fixed,
All this awe is an ode to one true Creator, unmixed.
In a strange way, this love cannot be named or understood.
It’s sacred yet resisting of all rational reasoning and integrity.
A love that is so pure with an intense spiritual connection of my soul with your soul.
A love of minds from opposite sex, yet free and unmixed with carnal desire but bonded with a burning passion.
You gave me your naked body and in return I gave you my naked soul.
We both gave each other our vulnerability and trust but I gave you wholehearted, fierce depth of my heart.
I shared with you my deepest, darkest inner thoughts and you maintained control and held your emotions close to your chest.
At times I felt your yearning for my time and my interactions too.
This love is free from desire of sexual union but I yearn to sleep close to you to smell your body scent to knock me out of insomnia.
I undressed my thoughts to you and appreciated your naked body in an artistic way.
I made love to your consciousness and mind which you will never know about.
I felt orgasmic force through our submerging intimate conversations.
Intrusive thoughts don’t leave my mind day or night that is the reason for my farewell.
I am strong but you become my weakness.
Underneath our platonic love lies a mystical passion beyond my understanding.
No complexities lie in my heart now but certain clarity that this love is a connection of my soul and mind. I am glad to have experienced it, only a very few are privileged of a bizarre intoxication aspect of love.
By your red scars you crucified the moving stars
By your thorns you crucified the entire world
By your dolour you crucified the world-ruler
Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”
Through your bloodiness you destroyed our drunkenness
Through your painfulness you restored all the fullness
Through your blood drainage you became unmixed knowledge
Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”
You were nailed on a crucifix to heal the sick
You were nailed on a cross to retrieve what was lost
You were nailed on a tree for all to see
Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”
Through elevation you cured the sin of wisdom
Through rising to the blue you caught and killed the brute
Through elevation you went into fruition
Christ at the near end calmly said “It is finished”
When but a child the world seems set in stone.
Too soon this cozy surety fades and dies;
And verities, like passing clouds, are flown,
Confusing right with wrong and truth with lies:
The ground’s no longer firm beneath our feet.
What once was bedrock now is shifting sand,
While warring interests jostle and compete
And nothing seems to turn out as we planned.
Yet know, my love, that even though all life
May be uncertain, nothing else be fixed,
Amidst confusion, doubtfulness, and strife
One thing is always pristine, pure, unmixed:
While much is inescapably unsure,
My love for you shall steadfastly endure.
ON PREDICTIONS
( by S.Jagathsimhan Nair)
What paths and brambled brooks I passed to halt
In this corny beat, to question my salt
What transcends this sum and what spills over
This reminder as scowling recompense
What more in an uneven air that chafes
At its own breath. What questions after such
Unmixed wisdom come of unspoken word.
Read my palm and the tangle of lines in unsuspected stir
Read my planets making planned mystery in motion overhead
And tell your considered surmise of my roller-coaster drive
And tell if it’s right that mine is just another clueless tale
Don’t keep staring in my eyes and telling all mumbo-jumbo stuff
Unravel you can’t even the contents of a grain of sand
You can tell of goals to aim at but not the sights I lose
You can tell of failures gone through but not what I failed.
Here lies the burden there lies the dream but where is the promise
Where lives the omniscient sage the old truant sobered with age
You and I are making journeys to the death-holes of prophets
Who dies after who dies after who dies after who and when.
Try gather my conscience encapsuled in unearthy voices
Try equal my inkling into the insides of a riddle
What hoodoos what predictions what jinxes and sordid warnings
After all that and what not of just a peep into one’s life.
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
For Skat's 5th poem on soup contest
I love my balloon
My big balloon
My blue balloon
My ball balloon.
How playful it is
Without it something I miss
The joy, the gaiety
The buoyancy and elasticity.
The spur of celebration
The moment of glorification
Of excitement and passion
Relieved me from the tensions
My burlesque balloon
My bright balloon
My brisk balloon
My brilliant balloon
The balloon flew up into the air,
Songs of festivity in their full blare
It is in itself the joy, cheer and pleasure
Unmixed by the sorrow or materialistic treasure.
I broke the dozen eggs
I bought a few weeks ago.
Only two of them are badly reddish.
My eyes are fixed on the good ones.
I forget to turn the stove on
As Eileen's face appeared
From the back side of my brain.
I sit there glancing at
The unmixed eggs;
Thinking...
Why are the reddish eggs
Considered bad?
Dubem, without a doubt in me
Understanding the feminine
Because - there's no other me
Emotions, climbs-heart on nine
Must those dreams kill you?.
Ojukwu, you can feel desires
Juxtapose, oh! Our dear hearts
Unmixed feelings or ires
Kwanzas for you,from my arts
Would love to catch your crazies
Uptights within, crucifies frenzies.
There is a vast domain,
Grounded on a golden land;
There the immortals remain,
And those who in holiness stand.
Once I reminisce on the pure realm
Beyond the shadows peep
Where beings in white apparel swiftly touch
My sovereign bids me to natter
Of how mortal there must occupy
In eternal bliss
Where the mighty one is eternally pleased
Not a taste of this ground is felt
Nor the chattels of this home can compare
The lanes are of choice treasure
The trees fairer than cedars of Lebanon
And of the river, as crystal, not like Jordan
Yet unmixed, while that of Euphrates is less
Every flower is arrayed gorgeously
And they sing melodies, not upon ten strings
But upon angelic inspiration, of harps
Made without hands
Time has no power there, nor can cause—
Oldness or baldness
There are no unequal roads of life
For goodness remains a seal,
The vast domain speaks plenitude
For the plenum from all race
The sun and the moon are not at their posts
And upon the brightness, its source is not from them
At instances when I feel the heat
Of this accommodating hut
Then I reminisce on the pure realm.
To MOM; March 11,1979
This is the story of an animal trainer,
Whose mettle and courage, couldn't be plainer.
A search'd reveal if you'd care to explore,
None greater exists than El Eleanor.
She's faced the very meanest big game
And transformed them all , smiling and tame.
There's Big Daddy Harry, King of the Brood,
He fights in the jungle and brings home the food.
When the hunting is hard, his scorn can be raw.
El soothes the pain, takes a thorn from the Pa.
The next animal is Rusty the Red.
The patron saint of unmade beds.
A beast of habits, bad ones galore,
His head s in the clouds, his, clothes on the floor.
El's plans are to put an end to his bad mannered life,
By chasing him within,an inch, of. his wife.
Lindsey's the next, she's no longer wild.
El taught her well when she was. a child,
Out of the home and into the night,
She's now a trainer in her own right.,
By way of taming by putting a smile on,
She's done a dog, a .cat, and one big Italian.
The animal Robert likes his milk whole,
Drinks only unmixed, unopened and cold.
Devour, he can, a whole pound of meat,
Sharing with him sure ain't a treat.
El''s main defense against his devour'n,
Is a refrigerator as big as a cavern.
Next on the tour tour is Kristin Clothes-Horse.
Her closet is full, but never her purse.
El hopes to prevent a new"confederacy"
One which would a poor man, namely, "Poverty Lee".
Now we find Jenny the Baker.
With time, she's become quite the good pastry maker.
Jenny however''s a wrestling cook,
An odd combination that's not in the book,
She has her own reasons, for truth to tell, son,
The cooking is a wrestling move called a"full Nelson".
Hilary's a creature who likes to get around
In automobiles at the speed of sound.
She doesn't always though, 'specially not at night,
Then she likes to travel at the speed of light.
It's hard to see now but she's on the track,you see,
Of her own future business - called Hilary's Taxis.
Nori's the last, but not the least,
A full member of this zoo, and like the rest a beast.
A paradox of sorts, this Blue Prize winner,
Is proof that church schools are chock full of sinners,
Thus we are the animal house,
And though we may complain and grouse,
Everyone, no matter his status,
Thinks El Eleanor's got to be, the World's Greatest!
Happy Fifty-fifth Birthday,
From son Rusty,
How splendorous is your arrival, dear autumn!
How bright like the very gold and diamond mixed!
What, exactly, is in your little heart's bottom?
The physique and psyche of the summer are fixed...!
As a groom escorted by his boys and girls adorned,
As the interiors of a shrine are well set;
Sun's peak climbing, as though gradually got scorned,
Which blade of grass, so far, is florally fit, yet...?
O summer, in India, you play great havoc,
We bear with you, yet, thinking of other seasons;
You have your reasons to be silent and gravic,
Could you, dear Summer, shake hands with unmixed reasons...?
Does your silence knock at my heart, my dear summer?
Kindly visit me tomorrow, I'm your drummer...!!!
Raw
Intelligence…
Like dry
Cement
Sitting unmixed
Never used
To make
Anything
Real
Raw
Intelligence…
A flashing
Neon light
To its own
Potential
Bulbs
Burning out
One at a time
Raw
Intelligence…
Its shadows
Forever littered
Along a
Lost and
Forgotten
Past tense
Alleyway
Raw
Intelligence…
Like shards of
Glass
In the maelstrom
Reflecting a story
Of what
Might
Have been
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Flowers are wheat
Flour is draught
Unmixed it flies
Mixed it builds up
Bread for its eaters
Two hands divide
Unity in diversity
© John Chinaka Onyeche
Like blood in flesh, with your disciples, you were united.
In your union, as though on cloud nine, they felt delighted.
Heart and mind were clear, yet were they in wisdom sure-sighted?
By your question, their cognizance, like fuels, got ignited.
Didn't you, as the Almighty, know the thoughts of each mind?
Didn't they, more than a monarch, supreme strength in you find?
Wasn't, in you, the meaning of their existence defined?
Didn't they know that before you, even fate stood resigned?
Like a pure fragrance, their unmixed thoughts of you were expressed.
As Elijah, Baptist, and prophets, your name they addressed
In you, they knew that, as an atom, each name was enmeshed.
You knew you were Christ. Calling you so, Peter was blessed.
Yet, like a lamb, by getting slaughtered, you must save the world.
Hearing this, like leaves in a crude current, their hearts got whirled.