Best Unpromised Poems
Gate to adventures
Portal to foreign lands,
That mystical caress
The calm of sunset
And the flame of brilliance,
Stare not for too long,
Unless you give into a trans,
And live your life
Chasing unpromised beauty.
Like Moses fleeing Egypt
and finding refuge in Midian
I was a stranger in a strange land.
Having fled Chicago in ‘84
I journeyed east to the
unpromised land of Detroit.
8 Mile Road.
“I'm a man
I'm a make a new plan”
Eminem makes and takes the rap
while party stores and strip joints
pockmark the urban warscape.
“Super Lotto” “Beer and Wine”
“Liquor“ “Money Orders”
“We accept Food stamps”
“Girls, Girls, Girls”
9 Mile Road.
Driving north through Ferndale where
the Exiles of Gentrification live,
I was reminded of the sixties
and drag racing
stoplight to stoplight.
3-2-1-green
zero to sixty in three gallons
muscleheads in their muscle cars
dual quads, hemi-heads
bored and stroked, raked and shackled
four on the floor, two in the backseat
Jim Beam in the glove box
and fuzzy dice on the mirror.
Up ahead the Reuther crossed
where once a 10 Mile Road proudly served.
Named for a firebrand labor guy,
the freeway heads east out of Roseville,
veers south through Warren
then north and south again.
Torn up and re-built before it opened,
the 20 year in the making
gerry-meandering freeway
flows west around the Zoo
with a zig through Huntington Woods
and a zag through Lathrup Village.
11 Mile Road and electric
eclectic, engaging Royal Oak;
home of the Star Dream sculpture
Farmer’s Market and all things hip—
Just ask ‘em.
11 and a half Mile Road.
Art deco portico with garish neon,
never washed windows and
a pair of 69.9 a gallon pumps,
“No Gas” “No Gas”
Vinsetta Garage,
a Woodward fixture since prohibition,
is voted Motown’s best car repair
year after year after year.
12 Mile Road.
The National Shrine of the Little Flower,
de-flowered in the 1930’s
by radio Priest Charles Coughlin
whose coast to coast broadcasts
railed against bankers and Jews
and that communist FDR.
Like a journalist trying to find the
Who? What? Where? and why?
Like a little boy peering through a keyhole
I found myself in a Motor City funk
looking more than tasting.
As twilight breaks
The world awakes
To another unpromised day
It's colorful splendor
Like paint in a blender
The beauty of hope on display
Nature rejoices
In songbird voices
As creatures start milling about
The heart grows lighter
As the sun shines brighter
Forgotten are yesterday's doubts
Then once again
As daylight ends
When the sun tells the earth goodnight
We watch in awe
The colors that befall
Stirring the soul with delight
The sun tells the story
Of life's beauty and glory
From beginning until the end
Peaceful and bright
The calm of twilight
Each one an exalted Godsend
September 21 2016
A father ails, a son's lover's lament
Steel rudders committed, what hues to lament.
No courage, the lover feels not what to speak
A channel untuned to the feast of lament.
Tradesmen and saints, what heed they at all?
The father feigns slumber, a weak heart's lament.
The lover replaced, made a crater unwhole
His plea unreturned, an unpromised lament.
One tender father, one lover's fair bones
Their son and companion, shared in lament.
The night is the most lonely time of my life where I sit and be alone with my thoughts. My perception of what I thought my life was gonna be like is now so dull and dysfunctional.I cant believe after all these years, I can no longer be happy unless I separate myself from the leech whose been hunting my life from with in. but I found happiness today i found it in a person I never met .A person whom looks like they got it all figured out.A person with a plan ,goal. A person who seeks the forbidden especially how it is now ,and days. The forbidden fruit of love. oh how it feels how it tingles inside. The same love that can also hurt a person like me. I start to question myself is this what I want ,and need in my life. but life is about taking risk making and mending hearts unpromised. Who am I to judge those having the willingness to find other wise, so I say to myself why not take a risk. All or nothing let God lead me on this path and question.I start to wonder why. I ask myself is this really a person sent by you or is it just a profound part of my imangition, a fantasy.I cant believe is he really giving a person like me whose not worthy at a chance at love , life and ecstasy. I sit back rocking myself on my chair in deep thought and smile could this be real.
She tried!
But she failed.
Because it is impossible
To give what is not received.
Totally unreasonable
To expect the unpromised.
Completely regrettable
To be and feel unappreciated.
She stopped!
She tried!
To show that she's different
A giver, not a taker.
That she'd prefer
To be self-reliant
Not dependent.
She made it satiably coherent
That she would rather
Be a lover, not a sucker.
It was a total disappointment!
She tried!
To show you could triumph
For you, she could change.
Accept to take just half
And try to manage
Until you were ready
To give her not all, but enough.
But you were reading from a different page
So you made it tough
Impossible to gauge!
She tried!
To communicate
Make you understand
What she felt.
But you made it hard
For her tender heart
You openly tortured
And for long, she was patient.
Made sure she followed
For a while, when you left.
Her desire withered!
Where would we be
without the bomb
Was Einstein a savior
or devil aplomb
Our power the fire
all enemies dread
Till stealing its physics
unmaking our bed
The world on the edge
of a looming abyss
Missiles entombing
a terrorist wish
Tomorrow unpromised
all time day to day
Eternity waiting
—forever to blame
(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: May, 2022)
One moment, a hint of love
The next, abruptly shoved
Hands over heart: Pray
Unpromised is the day
Yet when sure is certain
by Noonday's light --
Shadows stalk dark alleyways
~ Pray, slip away
Nocturnal flower
In need of sleep
Your petals wilt
The count for sheep
New dawn unpromised
The die is cast
A croupier blocking
Sun’s setting mask
Through endless courtship
Dreams on the run
A jester whispers
Till sleep has come
The meadow sparse
Its reaper gone
New light unspoken
—your buds in song
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Sometimes,
in the shadows
of the early morning light
Resting in the
shade,
awaiting the beginning
?
And hiding
from the end
of all that’s unpromised
I watch
the questions disguise themselves
as often answered
And tuck
new whispers soft within,
—a certain change
(Chicago Illinois: July, 1977)
Sometimes,
in the shadows
of the early morning light
Resting in the
shade,
awaiting the beginning
And hiding
from the end
of all that’s unpromised
I watch
the questions disguise themselves
as often answered
And tuck
new whispers soft within,
—a certain change
(Chicago Illinois: July, 1977)
The day now split
drifts off unpromised,
the dream remains with me
Our words as jewels
now treasured pawn,
their tickets burning free
The nights by measure
mornings fled,
those times you woke and lied
My heart remains
my own to wed,
your wound still deep inside
From spells you cast
upon our gift,
and quarried into stone
The past is black,
the future gone,
—this present mine to own
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)
The livery on fire
its horses set free
Misery beckons
the future to bleed
The gates are broke open
all streets painted red
Death has awakened
life dragged from its bed
One bugle is left
blowing perdition’s melee
All swords are unsheathed,
terror sharpens dismay
Tomorrow unpromised
today but a curse
The monster has cometh
—a hell upon earth
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
The livery on fire,
its horses set free
Misery beckons,
the future to bleed
The gates are broke open,
all streets painted red
Death has awakened,
life dragged from its bed
One bugle is left,
blowing perdition’s melee
All swords are unsheathed,
terror sharpens dismay
Tomorrow unpromised,
today but a curse
The monster has cometh
—a hell upon earth
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Nocturnal flower
In need of sleep
Your petals wilt
The count for sheep
New dawn unpromised
The die is cast
A croupier wearing
Sun’s setting mask
Through endless courtship
Faith on the run
A Jester whispers
“Your dreams have come”
The meadow waiting
Its reaper gone
New light unspoken
—your buds in song
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)