Best Unpack Poems
The
old house
from my memories
opens to a wide porch
adorned by mom with her
loving touch.Herbs,flowers
swayed to caressing breeze
Lilies in pink, roses in blue
and bougainvilleas that
blushed in lilac hues.
Green tulsi shrubs
tended with care.
Ah! leaves that
flavored
our tea.
They
were
laced
by a
fence
with a
sweet aroma
from tendrils
curling bluebells
intertwined in mesh.
The fragrant jasmine,
she sang to them
and put one in
her wavy hair.
Spring bloomed them to full moon. Monsoons brought a divine petrichor
that made us breathe the heavenly aroma of her love. She taught me
to care for them under the Mahogany tree that enveloped them from
raging heat. She worshipped her nursery like her own kids. Every
evening, dad used to share his stories watching the rosy blush.
On moonlit nights, we stargazed lying on the grassy bed and
listened to old songs on radio. I had built a corner of three
bricks to keep my favorite books to bloom and read them
on lazy noon with cuckoo's songs breathing intermingled
scents. When we left that house, the garden lived for
someone else. My mom had wished they would care
for it like she did. I packed my old books to move on.
Now years later, far from mom, when I miss my garden
of bliss, I unpack those books that still release scents of
roses and jasmine drenched and dancing, releasing soothing
petrichor. For a love so deep shall bless me now in my kitchen
garden, confined to few flowers. That love still blooms with those
books as I inhale the fragrance of those foregone days. Like I carry
my mother's essence in everything I am, the divine garden of that heaven
from my memories and the eternal fragrance of mother gleaming, lives on.
~ To the garden where I wrote my first poem
It has been quite a while
since inspired pen has met with paper
Minutes have dripped into days
inspiration has become a stranger
I have so many gorgeous pens
yellow, gold, blue, purple, black
My instruments perfectly lined
yet my thoughts I can't unpack
As I grasp for clear ideas
they slip slide so smooth and clean
Melted crystals poured on palms
they leave a reflective sheen
As I desperately seek out myself
within these patterns of liquid light
I'm absorbed into the desert
like my hands now cracked and white
Let me close these ancient eyes
Travel to a place beyond frustration
Within the land of my slumber
I will live within imagination
There colours will be brighter
nothing will slip through outstretched hand
I'll be the master of my dominion
my mind will flex as I command
Nothing will be impossible
Until night turns into day
That's when my eyes will surely open
and my dreams will slip away!
Lingering among the stacks
Interval of serenity, a luxury to
Borrow a world, then bring it back
Riches of printed page, once few
Are carried throughout the community
Requiring only a card to belong
Young and old both given opportunity
Lending literacy to growing minds, strong
Out of many streets, they share the room
Vaulted ideas have a place to bloom
Encyclopedias of adventures to unpack!
1/22/19
A strange sight upon a lonely road.
A dream ripped in half.
Looking closer, I wonder what was the travail.
An old price tag attached, making me wonder at what price it was sold.
Along the edges, tattered and torn, it gave forth an evil laugh.
As if some sly devil concocted a way to turn someone pale.
Onward I traveled, with pack upon my back.
To the left and right of the road were littered with more broken dreams.
So many that one could not keep track.
Some having been blown into the parallel stream.
So, I checked the pack upon my back.
And, yep all my dreams were there in a stack.
Cold winds howl, trying to rip my back pack to shreds.
Freezing were the winds, but forward I march.
Never losing sight of my dreams in spite of many dreads.
They all hold up strong even though many times I'm in a lurch.
Suddenly I see people returning to the road.
Going back and picking up their dreams.
Dusting them off and restoring them to their pack.
Each and every one said to me, you are quite bold.
To go forth and not let the cold winds of fate not destroy your knack.
To face life as it comes and not give up even if offered gold.
Good, bad fortune, are likewise of no importance.
Put a failed dream back in your pack and maybe a new day will appear.
Where you can unpack that dream and give it another go.
But, for today, march forward, today's failure might tomorrow's dance.
You gave it your best, and win or lose, that game has ended with a spear.
Win or lose, that game is done so pack it's knowledge away in your pack and grow.
Suddenly down the road a new vista appears and a brand new game.
Left high and dry or victorious are the two possible ends of any venture.
But in truth, knowledge is all you will have, win or lose.
For tomorrows game is just around the bend, all the same.
Win or lose, the game of life only ends for the moment within sight of the new adventure.
So, to quit and call it the end, only makes you look like a goose.
The old black man came riding up
On a wagon pulled by a mule
In the wagon he had a plough
And some other old rusty tools
As best I recall it was late in the fall
Of nineteen sixty two
He said hello and told my dad
He was looking for something to do
And for a fee would unhitch Ol' B
They'd plow up the garden out back
The old man smiled as they dickered awhile
Then began to unpack
Ol' B wore blinders as he walked behind her
It only took them a bit
With all of the kids from the neighborhood
The pair had made quite a hit
Put the cash in his pocket gave her a carrot
Hooked up and went on their way
As the old man whistled to the clippity-clop
The old mule loudly brayed
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
He comes and goes
another trip
another assignment
another suitcase to pack, unpack
another sigh
another tear
another "Welcome home, my dear"
he comes and goes, comes and goes
and life for me just ebbs and flows
She comes and goes
another break
another holiday
another suitcase to pack, unpack
another sigh
another tear
another, "Welcome home, my dear"
She comes and goes, comes and goes
and life for me just ebbs and flows
They come an go, come and go
and I?
I stay....
I stay
with words I craft
I fly away
I come and go
I come and go
My dreams and thoughts
just ebb and flow
I stay...
and fly away....
Eileen Manassian
Asleep before the head hits the pillow
Head filled with vivid colors swirling, amassing, mixing outside the lines
Transgressions grow skyward like a bean stalk becoming a giant
Worries wander aimlessly like a cat in the night looking for a spoon
Hurts pound again, and again, first a drumstick then a sledge hammer
The kaleidoscope of confusion rotates ever faster, bed spins counter
Places cannot be escaped
Faces stare as if clothes have been robbed
Running, Flying, Drowning, Suffocating, Garbling Words, Can’t Breath,
Slow Motion, Falling, Insatiable Hunger, Unquenchable Thirst, Blood Stained, Shouting
Loaded Down, Frantically Searching Pockets, Hidden Underneath, Forgotten
Fear. All fears. Nothing but fear. Afraid. Regret. Worry. I didn’t. I really did!
Each day we pack our pockets. Cram our purses. Load our backpacks
Hang needless objects and things around our necks, over our shoulders, in the crux of our elbows, on our belts
Grip suitcases. Carry stuffed plastic grocery bags on each knuckle. Waddling to the side of the bed before crashing head on
Unknowingly still pinching the key between our left thumb and pointer finger
Hitting the bed with a massive crash
every part of the day strewn around the room like a devastating mid air explosion of a 747 littering debris, miles and miles of destruction, charred remnants, unidentifiable and randomly placed objects, out of place, disfigured, often never found
Before your head hits the pillow
Drop the things you picked up today
Take a load off
Free yourself of your burdens
Neatly set everything aside
On second thought, just pile it and let it lay where it falls
Drop your yoke
Sit down on the foot of the bed with God
Hand Him the things you still cling within sweating red fists
Briefly Examen your day
Fall asleep on His shoulder
He will gently lay your head on the pillow, loft your feet off the floor, and tuck you in.
Let Him carry your burdens, lighten your load, unpack, empty your pockets, wash your laundry, even sort and match the socks.
Travel to sleep lightly and peacefully dreaming of a new day
carrying nothing but what is truly needed.
We were poor, but my brother and I didn’t know it.
Before Christmas my dad would take us to find just the right scraggly
fir tree..a wonderful afternoon tramping around in the woods.
Old and worn decorations..we were delighted to open the crate
and unpack them; it was like seeing old and beloved friends again.
The red velvet car was my favorite.. his a bedraggled Santa sled.
We always had a present or two..but the most exciting gifts were
in our stockings. The stockings were my dad’s work socks..washed
and pressed for the occasion. They hung with pride, beautiful to us.
One year I got a fishing pole in my stocking. It was stuck through
a hole in the heel. I thought that Santa was the cleverest
of men. Imagine..using that hole to my advantage!
My dad’s boss would give us the same thing year after year.
A crate of oranges, something we never had at any other time.
I can still see the juice on my hands as we devoured that special gift.
I wouldn’t trade those Christmas memories. The greatest gift was feeling
warm, and safe…and loved.
school broke up and summers here
shipped off, a long bus ride
every holiday off I'd go
to my aunts house by the sea side
she opened the door, gave a monster hug
this lady seemed immense
the first thing to hit me was the smell
musty lavender, quite intense
she eyed me up and down a while
a look of pure distaste
now come child go unpack your bag
ran up the stairs with haste
the room I had was idyllic
clean bedding a lamp and a flower
looked outside to see the view
the bright light on Blackpool tower
aunty Millie gave me a shout
come down and help me cook
side by side we peeled the veg
in her eyes I dare not look
white collar buttoned to her chin
black skirt did sway below
grey hair tied in the tightest bun
not a strand allowed to flow
we sat around a table to eat
such a thing I'd never known
she asked of school and other things
her interest always shown
a home, a real life living home
for this childhood I would yearn
a small girl I was allowed to be
secure, friendly, but stern
three meals a day, every one home cooked
never afraid, no hand was raised
and best of all, when I was good
I was hugged and I was praised
my aunty Millie I loved her so
never wanted to go home
we said goodbye and off I'd go
once again withdrawn and alone
Autumn steals the long days from Spring,
The dawn sunrise turns pinker in the reflection of water
And the morning air is crisper.
Was it Autumn that stole your daughter too?
The season turns, the season flees.
In the way the oak tree clings to its leaves,
You take caution in letting go of the last
Like the carefulness in letting go of your daughter,
You tried your hardest, but you never caught her
And as the new season arrives, you unpack
Your heavy coats.
You learn to get used to missing the warm sunshine
And on the days where the Autumn leaves fall harder,
You crave to listen to the sound of your daughter’s laughter
Mingle with the sound of rustling leaves.
As Autumn deepens, your loss deepens,
Your grief deepens and
The colder days creep in.
Old oak now as naked as the nursery
Without your daughter sleeping
And Autumn winds howl, weeping,
Crying for relief from Fall’s feelings
The way your daughter cried for healing.
Was it Autumn that freed her too?
The season stirs, the season goes.
In the way the oak tree regrows
You open your heart just as the clouds open
To let through the warm sunshine.
You see her in the playfulness of the world’s colours,
You see her eyes in the shape of your mother’s
Do you feel her in the Autumn too?
My Agoraphobia.
In 1983 you came back into my life.
Bringing me nothing, but trouble and strife.
You kept me a prisoner in my own home.
When all I longed for, Was to go out alone.
You caused me pain, you made cry,
I felt so ill, I thought I would die.
From doctor, to doctor, from pillar to post.
Where o where, is the cure I wanted the most?
Where exactly does the answer lie?
Eventually I found it, in a doctor called Di.
She gave me the will to carry on and fight.
I fought so hard, with all of my might.
The shops in the village seemed so very far away.
If only I could go out, just for one single day.
I tried and tried, the tears, the pain,
It was a battle lose or gain,
I gave it everything, yes everything I had.
It wasn’t easy, in fact, it was very bad.
In 1990, after 7 long years,
A lot of heartache, many, many tears,
I was starting to win the battle of getting out the door,
With each day, I was doing more and more,
But there was still so many things that I couldn’t do alone.
Still so many jobs, that had to be done on the phone.
I could now walk to the shops, there and back,
get the groceries, take them home, and unpack,
But I still couldn’t get a bus into town on my own,
only if I had someone to go with, borrowed, on loan.
It took several more years, of heartbreak and pain,
Before I could finally travel alone again.
May 2nd 2000, I jumped on a bus and popped into town,
It was just like my world had been turned upside down.
HERE WAS I FREE AT LAST,
Finally free to forget the past.
So I decided to do something I had never done before.
I started at college part time, each day I couldn’t wait to get out of the door,
To catch my bus, to feel like I had finally rejoined the human race.
Living life at a hectic pace.
Going to college at the age of 53,
Really did do wanders for me.
The computer course was harder than I thought it would be,
but others in the class helped me.
Our tutor was really nice,
Always ready with good advice.
Now I really feel I have turned my life completely around,
With this new freedom I have found.
With a lot of help, from my husband and son,
The battle is over, finally won.
So its goodbye agoraphobia you belong in the past,
Never again will you get me in your grasp.
This is a true poem of my own battle with Agoraphobia, That robbed me of a lot of my life,
Never wear a little black dress that looks in distress or to compressed
it should always impress and softly caress.
If you wear a small but your a triple X and the length just fits under your derriere
you will surely start to unpack and start to attract.
Sitting is a challenge as you start to scoot down
you know your on a countdown and hoping for no breakdown.
At last you've hit touchdown as you take a deep breath
Only to hear a snap and pop as something starts to unlock from your famous squat.
Your self esteem has just dropped as you start to rock
from side to side you sway 'Do I sit or do I stay' as you start to pray.
With great poise and hoping for very little noise
You race for the door knowing you have to abort
taking the tablecloth with you as you deport.
1/25/15 T Reams 1st Place
HER NAME IS GRACE
Her? name is Grace
She is tall and handsome
She draws a card and it's an ace!
"Unpack your bags, don't be a disgrace
Our little Grace!"
Born out of a wedlock, a little crazed
Not fond of embroidery or lace
No wedding bells will ever chime
For our little Grace
She wears her old coat
Over her greying dress
A charcoal bonnet
She is good for the boat!
"Unpack your bags, don't be a disgrace
Our little Grace!"
She won't unpack her bags, our Grace!
Shuts the door tight.
" A left and a left and another and another..."
She makes
She is a master navigator
Of the mazes
And mistress of no traces
amazing Grace!
And leaps on the boat tomorrow
Swift as an arrow
"Our mother Grace
She was no disgrace
When she left her motherland
She earned her living
In makeshift hotels
Scrubbing and cleaning
And later
She made her fortune
Being the hostess
Of delightful
Charm and grace
To the lonesome sailors
Our mother Grace"
Sing children of Grace
Years later
In the Newfoundland, in New Amsterdam
Yasemin Balandi
my heart it never lies
with the morning light
I pause and close my eyes
dawn is a lovely prize
still I unpack each night
my heart it never lies
she presses on my thighs
soft and wrapped in white
I pause and close my eyes
dawn’s warmth is but disguise
I feel her cruel bite
my heart it never lies
she slowly makes her rise
then showers golden bright
I pause and close my eyes
staring in her mirror
I reach for something sharp
my heart it never lies
I pause and close my eyes
Vacation Contest
Sponsor: Lin Lane
The sweet fragrance of tall palms swaying in the breeze,
brought continuous harmony into our hearts,
The smell of contentment spread as far as the eye can see,
This was our anticipated honeymoon, we were never apart.
We had been through way too much as a young adults. Our vows were made and we stepped off the plane quickly entering a world of tranquility and peace. Kauai was our paradise. This was our destination far away from the life we left behind. It was on the other side of the world. Our honeymoon was anticipated for months, and we were finally there. We couldn't unpack fast enough, for all we wanted to do was dip our toes in the soft sands of the Pacific ocean. It had streaks of cerulean and light green. I saw beauty in each pebble as the waters floated up amicably. The warm breeze showered a gentle mist through my body. I had never felt that way before. The tides gently flowed up to my knees tickling my legs....
sweet scents of palm trees
tender mist sprays through my soul
peaceful Kauai
On a tour we drove around the massive volcano Mauna Loa. It has a peak reaching almost three miles high.They have been formed over the last seventy million years. To see the eruption of lava was an amazing sight for sore eyes. I witnessed the red flow of the volcano dripping down into a hole to the core of the earth. As we drove up to the cliff, my stomach dropped to the ground. The depth of the Waipoo Falls was entrancing. I was hypnotized feeling a sense of magical desperation longing to fly freely into the blue. I saw such tender beauty in Kauai. We deserved this honeymoon after all we had been through. There we were, on an island created only for love. The intimacy was delicate and our passion for each other drove my mortality crazy.
volcano of love
together in paradise
honeymoon island
Believing we can share such a deep desire for a vacation
Engulfed into the magic an island can freely give
Nature so beautiful, bringing natural elation
Watching the warm waters is so seductive.
~Date Written: February 8, 2016~