Best Unmovable Poems
Time! Those minute and
Angular grains...
Wherein, subscribed to
Each hypothesized increment
Forever,
All supposedly contain
A singular ticking second from yet
Just another incumbent
Universe:-
Man's futile attempt to try and
Feebly explain
That which only the
Great Unmovable-Mover
Can truly measure!
The rushing wonts of action render these happenings unmovable,
These feelings, passionately felt, to dull words ill and strained
She clings, my koala, with chocolate eyes pining for my green
Though each time she lets me go, she leaves me docile and pained
Once before I claimed her; yes, she did not turn away from me
But instead gazed on how the breeze could sway my branches
I wanted my bark to secrete the sweetest tears,
So she would know how eternally I yearn for her glances
For it is she alone, who can consume and digest my poisons
It is she alone—besides the sun—who gives me reason to stand erect
Sometimes, we expect
the sun to rise and smile,
through hazy hellish clouds
carrying vindictive
verdicts of venomous vultures,
surmising hues of
ink to pierce through
pores of this bleeding pen,
imagining rainbows
will unravel colors,
in violent violets and
intricate indigo streaks,
refusing to walk around
streets with
hailing stones of storms.
But what if the skies
unfold mysteries of yesterday,
would tales of truth need
translated transcripts?
oblivious to the weight
of every thorn I sustain
within these words I weave.
Whilst daggers
on my spine
still remain rusted with
runes of revelations,
as I’ve felt claws sharper
than twisted tongues,
so those feculent fingers
pointing at abstracts
across fields of
fruitful flowers,
adorned with
smokey quartz
jewels of life,
is nothing but
mere artless blades,
that burn bridges
from blunt blindness.
Let the bare brokenness
of your rags be
the conqueror of your
own demise,
I’ve seen too many
ghosts turn into
steel hearted devils with
tasteless plans.
Yet these cracks
won’t grow wider
from misconstrued
conclusions,
from barely noticeable
turbulence within a
psychological warfare.
I am more than your
definition of sharpened
needles and knives,
as I’ve been nurtured
in fearless forests with
herds of faceless wolves,
this warrior spirit
is unmovable,
by a million mountains
engraved with
lifeless blood and
bones of your kind,
so take your little
quilt of cowardly questions,
wrap them around your
fragile little ego,
perhaps, sleep too
can reveal
rosier dreams
in your doomed
nights filled with terrors,
for I refuse to
drink from chalices
of emptiness
concocted from
bitter ingredients.
Oh furry fan, you leave an
indelible paw print upon my heart.
Your devotion, unmovable as a
mountain, is ever true.
You look at me with adoration
yet it is I who learn what
faithful love is.
Your rock of loyalty never wavers
amidst the shifting
sands of life.
As I pet your fur with utter joy
I would not trade this moment
for all the treasures on earth.
Written on 5/13/2017
The old man sighed
Sitting on a rock next to a pond
Crookedly balancing Yin and Yang between his eyelashes
Conversing with the Lady of the pond
Jade eyes and un-wrinkled time
In Her beautiful face
Held in his hands
An old fishing rod
Bamboo
Bends and flexes with the times
It holds and catches even the biggest
Devils in the water
The lotus flowers embrace the jade tide
Soft-hearted water caressing unmovable rock
Trees bent in silent reflection
The ultimate knowledge, the Lady whispered
Lies between the murmur of the leaves
The laughter of the lotus
The bend in the trees
Listen! Listen!
These will outlast everything
He thought
I shall give knowledge to my sons
And teach them
Soul
The old man contemplated
The secession of his life
There is a time to hold on and a time
To let go
This time, his time
Is over, long gone with the Maiden on the Moon
Beckoning him home
He taught the young men
To bend with the rod
To bow to the spirits
To be one with God
To be forceful, to be soft
To listen and to speak
Wise Man’s words
And Foolish Man’s dreams
He told the Old Stories
He sang the Old Songs
Traditions and ancient verses
To light their path through life’s courses
And as each of his sons threw the rod on the ground
Frustrated with the old man’s ways
Outdated methods and foolish wishes
The heavens opened and unleashed
The ultimate Father’s Rage
The rain pounded on the once peaceful pond
Dismantling the flowers and smothering the land
With a wrathful urgency
Drowning the Lady in the lake
Her beautiful jade eyes never again to reflect philosophies
Hidden in the reeds
The lotuses closed onto themselves
Never again to give such a sweet smell
The old man sighed
It’s out of his hands now, it’s out of his hands now
And this,
This will outlast
Everything.
Anchor my heart
To yours
Don’t let me drift away
The current is strong
It’s pulling me
Hold me fast
Anchor me
Anchor my heart
To unmovable rock
Anchor my soul to yours
The winds may clutch
The waves batter
But tranquility comes
With your touch
Anchor my heart
Anchor me
In arms secure and true
Though buffeted
I rest in a haven
I’m safe anchored to you
Anchor my heart
To the deepest part
Of your being
In your precious heart
Anchor me
For I'm sure to be
Held strong, held fast
So, hear my plea
Till time should last
Please…
Anchor me.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Poetry, You Are My Reason
First time ever I saw you,
you were lyrics in a song.
You touched the very soul in me
you helped to keep me strong.
You gave me hope when hopeless
through changes in due season.
You became the very blood in me
poetry, you are my reason.
You cause my soul to soar above
where wings of eagles fly.
You unlock the healing
that is in the tears I cry.
You're the voice that's in the wind
the answered prayers I pray.
The song deep in my heart,
you're words I long to say.
You move me when unmovable
you shake me to my core.
When I've nothing left to give
you help me to give more.
You are the life I choose to live
the way I show I care.
You are the very strength in me
the love I have to share.
You are the hope that lives in me
the faith that keeps on growing.
The good in me the world can see
the beauty in me showing.
You carry me when I am weak
through changes in due season.
You are the very heart in me
poetry, you are my reason.
Edwin C Hofert
Life without her
would never be the same
She was the loudest, proudest
most endearingly brash
sugar-sweet and pickle-sour
five-foot-two, force to be reckoned with
that anyone in Yell county had ever met
I confess
I was somewhat obsessed
with Miss Mavis' hair as a child
perhaps it was the fact
that she was the only white woman
I'd ever seen sporting an
honest-to-Oh-My-Goodness Afro
And her hair hadn't always
looked like that
I'd seen photographic proof
pictures from the 60's that showed
her having a mile-high beehive
lacquered with layers of AquaNet
utterly unmovable
much like Miss Mavis herself
Never married, Miss Mavis' house
was unapologetically pink
in varying shades
Pink carpet, wall-to-wall
pink wallpaper, curtains, bedspread
even the ceiling above your head
pink on the tiles of the bath
pink toilet?! pink sink
pink details down to the
homemade tissue-box cozies
Looking for all the world
like the inside of an old lady 'collector's edition'
Barbie house, with rainbow-colored clashes
of crocheted kitsch thrown about everywhere
piles of clothes draped over chairs
comfy but cluttered, it had a crazy air
of outrageous audaciousness
She was more comfortable
being herself
than anyone I'd ever known
so natural
as if to say
who else would I be?
It never occurred to her
to even try
to become someone else's ideal
She was that real
Here I am on the coastline
looking out far and near
seeking out those that be lost
bringing my message loud and clear
I am high, strong and mature
able to hold myself against all foe
having experience from all my years
telling others what they need to know
So much of history in my bricks
if it had eyes much it would tell
only eternity will tell its results
my light takes many out of their shell
Young and old have come my way
so I've pointed them to what's true
my foundation built on solid ground
like a rock unmovable like glue
This light so shines far into distance
so those in darkness will clearly see
for God's love deep as the ocean
so pleased I help souls to be free
(I am pretending I am a lighthouse and penning a new poetic tale about myself in the first person.)
She walks to the door of the inn
Her hands in her pockets, frozen
Through the ice and snow she trudges
To the gates of her home
But only to find them locked and her feet are slowly freezing
Her hands are unmovable
And she refuses to move for she is scared of death
Crying in her sleep at night in the snow, the girl, she has no home
“The Clock on the Wall”
That clock! The clock with cruelty, unmovable.
Telling time to be forever in motion.
The ticking, a deafening sound.
Marked by grime.
Yellowed by generations, grown digital.
By generations choosing to be illiterate.
The face, weathered from gazing faces…from faces.
Forever burdened by the echo.
TOCK!
Each minute, reversing youth.
Spinning hours that grin madly at the crows.
Birds destined to stomp divots into flesh.
Surrounding lids and lashes.
TICK-TOCK!
That hellish clock.
Stealing jewelry and lovers and future plans
Dreams given up in anguish to dead time, in the night.
The second hand, proud, purposeful.
Its movement pushing the aged into graves.
Eternally passing hours.
Laughing wildly at years gone by.
Heckling decades…lost.
TICK, TICK!
The ticking of that god-damned clock!
Mocking the genius gone mad.
A shocking reminder of all that is forgotten.
That all will be…forgotten.
The unforgiving clock.
Moving time.
Time, a father, whose knee will be outgrown.
A chastising father.
Protecting nothing.
Holding nothing.
Nothing calm.
Holding nothing safe.
Nothing still.
Curse that clock on the wall.
On walls dropping picture frames.
Loosened by rusty nails.
Images of families smothered in broken glass.
The clock.
TICK-TOCK!
Burning down homes that cradled infants.
With fatty folds and creamy dreams.
The clock, convincing people to set alarms.
Convincing people to startle the soul…
Into a brand-new day.
A warning here is given to all
don't refuse the one that speaks
for those on earth did so at their peril
from heaven now warns you He seeks
But God comes with a promise
for in the past, the earth was shook
now He says shaken will be heaven too
all of this comes from God's holy book
What's been said so far indicates
things will be shaken yet once more
that what's been made will be removed
so the rest will stand secure for evermore
Be filled with gratefulness to the Lord
for giving you His kingdom that stands still
unmovable, unshakeable, irresistible
this is our God, lethal sharp-edged sword
Come with reverence and awe
to truly worship this consuming fire
this is God who is eternally divine
from His power, we can always draw
("See that you do not refuse him who is speaking. For if they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, much less will we escape if we reject him who warns from heaven. At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, “Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.” This phrase, “Yet once more,” indicates the removal of things that are shaken—that is, things that have been made—in order that the things that cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire.")
Hebrews 12: 25-29 (ESV)
His heart is whole
but without cracks
he smells like home
and loves with his soul
but not without cracks
he makes you smile on dark days
and loves with his soul
even when he is lost from this world
he makes you smile on dark days
takes you in
even when he is lost from this world
he never lets go
stubborn as a rock, unmovable
he smells like home
and for a second you feel whole because
his heart is whole.
Where I live
The land slopes downward
Towards Merrick Road
Inviting me for a walk.
Stopping at a corner
I hear my name
Turning around
I say hello
To a neighbor
We exchange pleasantries
No need to say anymore
And I continue on my way.
My wife and I have roots here
Passing my daughter’s school
I remember that July
When fathers,
Tradesman
And office workers alike,
Toiled under a hot sun
Working together
To build a playground.
Near the park
I coached my son’s soccer team
Families came to watch
Their children run like the wind
Memory tells me
It was a good season.
On nearby streets
I helped neighbors
With routine chores
Lifting and pushing the unmovable
Shiny things for a kitchen
Or for the room upstairs
Odds and ends
We call possessions
My wife worked close by
To be home
When our children
Stepped off the school bus
Our house ran under
Her watchful eye
A job never done.
In return we are known here
And I take every opportunity
To walk through a quiet town
As early evening
Descends
On everyone and everything.
Small Towns Revisited
by Edmund Siejka
We Long Islanders
Live near a large City
Of
Tall buildings
High end stores
Apartments with gated windows
A place where people live like strangers.
Here, where we live
The land slopes downward
Towards Merrick Road
Inviting us for a walk
Along the way
It’s just like a neighbor
To call our name
We say hello
And exchange pleasantries
There is no need to say anymore.
Our families have roots here
Passing our local school
We recall that July
When fathers,
Tradesman
And office workers alike,
Volunteered
To help build a playground.
Wives worked nearby
To be home
When children
Stepped off school buses
Homes managed under their careful eye.
Near a park
Our sons and daughters played soccer
Families came to watch
Their children run like the wind
Memory tells me
It was a good season.
On nearby streets
We helped neighbors
With routine chores
Lifting and pushing the unmovable
Shiny things for a kitchen
Or something for the upstairs room
Odds and ends
We call possessions.
In return we are known here
And we take every opportunity
To walk through a quiet town
As early evening
Peacefully descends
On everyone and everything.