Best Unquestioning Poems
I find you alone
in your favorite room of sorrow and suspense,
the woman I cherish more than victory or divine sense,
long untouched, you stare into a sonnet of romantic sadness,
supple shadows dress you in stubborn, gothic passion, a quiet finesse,
they know that I am the speed of your tears and the lover in your trance,
as I see what your heart has wept for, tender acceptance
I understand why my soul seeks your emotional opulence,
with my powerful hands I hug those lonely, sexy shoulders of tired independence,
knowing by the ease of your neck's pining tilt, by the searching gap of your starving lips
no longer are you startled by our love, no more will you deny the lust righteous,
gliding the backs of my fingers up under your smooth chin skin, beauty so generous,
I find you passion thrown,
I undo your bodice and your soft feminine flesh opens onto me
radiating craving that glorifies yearning,
I entreat you to grab my hard affection, to feel the firm rush replete
to place the head of my love within you like a heavy heartbeat,
you obey with unquestioning need, eyes alight, thighs wide
I lunge in deeply, completely, pushing through you a pleasure tide
as you breathe in the handsome shock of your fulfillment
I kiss the soft space inbetween your sumptuous breasts and taste wild wonderment -
J.A.B.
AFFLICTION?
It is said of young physicians when they first set out to learn
All the symptoms and conditions that known illnesses convey
They perceive these indications each one causing more concern
‘Til they make the diagnosis to their shock and their dismay
They arrive at the conviction
They themselves have the affliction
Now when learned academics write a thesis that proclaims
All white people are infected with a racism endemic
Filled with symptom and with signs supporting dogma that defames
Fragile folk are then persuaded by this plausible polemic
And arrive at the conviction
We’re all guilty of affliction
What could be more direful to survival of this blessed sphere
Than wild nature, once benign, by human feckless acts betrayed!
“See the wild fires, melting icebergs and the hurricanes!”- we hear
Computer forecasts yet sole factors we can truly call ‘man made’
Should we therefore have conviction
Of a terminal affliction?
Data now in a profusion never seen before these times
Flood our eyes and ears and minds in ‘monu-mental’ mind-bate range
Those with focussed strong agenda choose a menu that defines
And steers us, if undiscerning and from reason then estranged
To unquestioning conviction
THAT in truth would be affliction
I've heard rumors of unicorns
Seen only by the faithful sworn
Rising in glories you foretold
From valleys where oceans are born
You spoke of passages in gold
To take, if my vision was bold
Enough to follow where you led
Unquestioning, into the cold
I fell for promises unsaid
Surrendered to you every shred
Of light and beauty I once had
And to your dark delusions wed
We left as sun-blinded nomads
Criss crossing straight lines into plaid
As I remembered what I knew
Truth re-emerged, brightly unclad
I could pretend that red is blue
I could declare my heart stayed true
I could deny the voice of doubt
But I can't lie as well as you
10/09/21
Captains Log Star date 8391.1,
I now face a terrible dilemma. After the bloodiest of battles with a crew from
another dimension, a crew of doppelgangers, in essence a crew of ourselves, we
have finally gained the upper hand, and this other Enterprise, Enterprise of
ourselves, Enterprise of unquestioning faith, is tumbling, helplessly through the
coldness of space. And I, I remain unsure of my next move. Do I destroy this other
Enterprise before it makes me believe in the ideas I hear repeated the most? If I
destroy it, what will the consequences be for me and my crew?
(Status Mr. Chekov?)
Captain, her shields are down
With no anti-matter inducer interface
Basically she's a wounded wessel
Just hurling through space
(Spock)
But her coils are recharging
As is that of her design
You have only a brief window
Before her mains are back on line
Mr. Sulu, arm photon torpedoes
And stay ready with your hand
Lock phasers on target
And then await my next command
(locking phasers)
(Uhura)
Captain, the other Enterprise is hailing
Wishing to express their desire
This faith-based you wants to discuss
The terms of a mutual cease fire
(ON SCREEN)
(the faith-based me}
What's the meaning of this attack?
You have taken this too far
And don't you dare forget
I know how blood thirsty you are
(the questioning me)
You represent the old me
The empty parrot of my faith
But so often you gave me comfort
During the loneliest of days
(the faith-based me)
Then we have an understanding
You can see that you need me
I just want.............. to live.....
To love and ........to breath......
Form:
They stood in the bright Andalucian sunlight
The noble sunflowers with stance upright
Massed yellow ranks portray solidarity
Faces and heights display uniformity
Unquestioning loyalty to the hot sun
First the seeds are sown and their hearts are won
Swaying in the breeze their gaze never falters
As their master’s arc continually alters
Brown, yellow or purple faces can be
And a bright yellow halo surrounds all three
Broad coarse-toothed leaves on spiral stems lie
These giant plants stand fifteen feet high
Beneath their beauty lies valuable treasure
Leaves, seeds and oil to be used at our pleasure
Dried seeds are eaten or ground to make bread
Oilcake to stock and poultry are fed
As blazing sun sets on hot, summer days
Sunflowers bow their heads through lack of sun rays
But with summer over they wither and die
Ready for use as food supply
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Published in Ensalada Mixta: Observations and Inspirations
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Little can compare with the dazzling yellow of fields of sunflowers in the Spanish sunshine. However, it is a short-lived spectacle and soon decay takes hold. It is a story about nature’s way. It is also a story which can happen to the people of a country – hope, oppression and destruction. The difference is that there is no choice in nature but there is a choice for people."
2nd place in Have You Published. Sponsored by Line Gauthier November 2020
U: “March out, arm in arm, Americans all.”
Q: (Keep freedom’s fires stoked and burning.)
U: “Unfurl Old Glory while we heed the call.”
Q: (Tell the truth to all the young ones yearning.)
U: “Take back your land from this lunatic fringe.”
Q: (With all the corners that we’ve been turning.)
U: “Their true agenda makes a good man cringe.”
Q: (Point out the fact that we’re still learning.)
U: “Shout it long and loud, we’re number one.”
Q: (So beware of all the blowhards braying.)
U: “There isn’t anything that we haven’t done?”
Q: (Scoundrel’s colors, too bold displaying.)
U: “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll make it right.”
Q: (They’ve torn the flag, the flag is fraying.)
U: “For our future’s looking awfully bright”
Q: (Can we comprehend the price we’re paying?)
U: “We’re so lucky to be living here.”
Q: (Stop all the pigs of privilege squealing.)
U: “We all love this land, so give out a cheer.”
Q: (Expose the truth that they’re concealing.)
U: “And those who don’t, they can leave today.”
Q: (That keeps the selfish interests stealing.)
U: “Well, they have nothing ever good to say!”
Q: (Then begin the long hard task of healing.)
U: “Cast out the cowards who lead us astray!”
Q: (True liberty is a field worth growing.)
U: “We know the best is yet to come. Hooray!”
Q: (Seeds of sacrifice are still worth sowing.)
U: “Lift up those glasses, now here’s a toast!”
Q: (Yes, question every course we’re going.)
U: “We’re the country that we love the most!”
Q: (Or a crisper wind will soon be blowing.)
You call it Israel carelessly
You call it that thoughtlessly
Unquestioning is it okay?
Unnoticing the decay
The strong hold of all the Palestinians
The firm desires it will be free again
Did you see or have you went blind
To all the things they did
To all the slaughter
They have caused
To the destruct of all homes
To the raze of all mosques
To the perish of many souls
Strong great Palestinians
They did not do but stand
Defending their beloved country
They did not do but fight back
For what the Jews did
And you call it
You call it again
Israel…
For if they killed, burned, and tortured
It will never be theirs to own
It will never be theirs to name
It will never, never be theirs to cling too
It has been, is being, and will be
Only Palestine…
Written by: louzana nubani
Dedicated and directed to: Paulo Coelho
THE SANDS OF TIME
We stop-- unquestioning the expertise of our Game ranger
focused--examining sand and road for tracks
Uncomprehending, we ponder waiting for clues he may disclose –the light of dawn
Finally- three words:”Do you see?”
A revelation for him
We try to discern—revealing imprints on a dusty road
Man of few words, he speaks again: “footprints...not animal...fresh, close and recent”
Bushmen behind a thicket of shrub
Authentic and unique-nomads in the Namib Desert
“A family... hunting” he enlightens us further
We sit warm in blankets and woollen scarves
They crouch, short in stature, hiding—naked and shy
Feeling uncomfortable, inappropriately wrong somehow..
Binoculars and camera’s enforce the contrast-awkwardly
Our arrogance, whilst they are natural –reticently
Our Ranger details informative dialogue—geographical lectures
Nomadic in their habitual housing, hunting skills faultless...
Every imprint in the sand tells its own story
Many not wanting their legends uncovered
Invasion – intrusive, identities discovered
We linger no longer—luxurious Game Lodge beckons
Enjoying a breakfast we had no need to hunt for
Copyright© April 2013—Kim van Breda
Decisions formed from words devoid of vision,
Blind letters without even dots to the eyes!
What will make the difference?
To the virtue less rhyme of our soulless times,
In this virtual pantomime!
There is so much “out there not to find”
In this almost (middle-ages) portrait of a work unsigned.
No trace on bodies that lie beneath a war-clouded sky
Yet on and on their wind-driven voices cry.
Freedom, Equality, "Truth" beneath a foreign sky!
Almost as foreign as the voiced values; that valued them..?
As unquestioning sacrifices.) yet that is the way...
Once the die of war is cast, that is the way it lies
And lies.
© Joe Maverick 27-12-2010
God’s is the realm beyond man’s understanding.
Underway is rapid and rabid deforestation of God’s domain.
As science expands, so does the chasm
between God and men.
Men think.
Thinking gives men science.
Men love science.
Men love themselves.
So they push God back.
They love God less.
They need God less.
They think.
By countless prayers
God would provide bountiful harvests
or terrible famines.
Science provides pesticides, fertilizers
and genetically amplified crops.
So the chasm expands.
By unquestioning trust
God would heal the sick and lame
or forgive the sinner.
Science provides vaccines and medicines,
it explains that genetics determine behavior - there is no sin.
So the chasm expands.
By candlelight,
monks and scholars would study scripture and
draw nearer to God.
Science provides electricity and the internet
where religion is a mocked antiquity.
So the chasm expands.
The width of the chasm is the reach of the Hubble
--and still--
God dwells beyond the realm of man’s understanding
across the chasm of man’s pride,
in the realm of faith.
Waiting eagerly and sorrowful in the silence
for a prayer,
for some trust,
for some lost soul
to find Him.
For when science fails a man,
he looks across the chasm for God
and a perfect love bridges the gap,
provides bounty,
heals wounds,
forgives sins, and
grants light still.
Despite what
men think.
06/12/15
*this was more like a stream of consciousness/free-write than a poem.
A glance across a void; a heartbeat trips,
a longing from within her essence yearns.
From Cupid’s bow on rose stained satin lips,
unfaltering, a tender smile returns.
No words in fury, or raised voices plied;
the certainty of eyes forever kind;
no restiveness when tears of sorrow cried,
as unvoiced ear drinks tales of troubled mind.
A strong yet silent presence reassures;
unquestioning, uncritical and staid,
still through the lapsing years as life matures,
unchanging as past mem’ries are replayed.
In frames of time-suspended happiness,
lie photographs of love … no more … no less.
**sometimes, all that remains is a treasured photograph
Pensive Blues
Unwrapping a mellow chord
Repeated words one affords
Flowers awaiting new bloom
Find Blue’s infusing the gloom
Waiting upon stars falling
Across the sky of wishing
An arched conduit of light
Opaque in harmony’s flight
Catching each note expecting
Lovers’ moon unquestioning
Rhythm extinguishing flame
Silencing slashes of pain
Ember’s etching on the sky
Kindled visions that now fly
A wasteland alight once more
Blazing with lyrical score
Melody of words spoken
Re-acquaint new love’s token
Awash in the bluest “Blues”
Dreaming of wishes come true
By: Debra Squyres 2/26/13
Based on the Blues lyrics of Nora Jones:
“Waiting”, “Turn Me On”
“Come Away With Me” and “The Nearness of You”.
When the mighty wind comes to a quench
And the heavy rain comes to a halt
Would your household boast of a bountiful harvest?
Plentiful enough into your very own hut
Today a new man taken over your spirit
Trampling the power of the man of God’s thought
Tick-tack, tomorrow comes a heavy retrench
Alas, you go empty belled and no food inside your pot.
What happened to the brain given to think?
A great mind vested with power of will
But you decided to be a fool of cheeky trill
Unquestioning every questionable act of willful flick!
For a pot of porridge, thy brain halts and opts to slack
Lying low and below under a fake man’s will
Thy eyes wind open even without a wink
Yet not open enough to see the heart full of deceitful trick.
Millions of lion’s heart given to a goat to paint its will?
Weep! Cos you have sold your mind
Yet, to a set of thoughtless thinkers
Into the very hands of the man of endless gimmick
Shame! Politics have hauled the brainy brain,
And still not enough a hurt
Painting a lively skull so brainless
Thus! You are so full of total emptiness.
Relentlessly you have stopped to think
What happens when the might wind comes to a quench
And the heavy rain comes to a halt
Would your shore filled with fish so countless
Deceitful and cunny like serpent of sambissa forest
Here with you forever in thick
Soon they build a heavy fortress
So I beseech you to stop! Make a rethink
Then you can see the black mind of the man so mindless,
Yet promising to bring your black diamond home
Of all the wonderful things
God did create,
By far the best
Is your father's mate
A mother gives
Unquestioning love
And raises her children
With a tender glove
When all others have
Their work done
She is still at work
With daughter and son
She asks for nothing
In return,
Except perhaps for her children
To somehow learn
What makes good
Better than bad
And therefore a life
Happy, not sad
No easy chore,
As we all know
But every mother
An extra mile will go.
Happy Mother's Day to all the wonderful Soup mothers, and, in fact, all mothers
everywhere. You are the foundation stone of civilization.
My bed held no comfort.
I toss and turn, restless, aching thru the night and then the early morning hours.
Succumbed to ritualistic repetitions, I pray the Our Father, over and over again, then shortened to - Father.
My life circumstances gave me neither father nor mother. So difficulty arises in the words of Our Father and alters them to simply - Creator or God.
Creator God, how often have I prayed and it seems you do not listen?
Asking for blessings, release from pain and unwanted situations.
Some claim You have given miracles, blessed their lives, changed their situations, directed their paths and lives,
why not me?
Some speak of you - religiously and how intrinsic a part you manifest in their lives and their daily experiences.
I speak to you ever in search and want for sensing your presence and still it does not come, I just feel -alone.
Other believers say, they feel the whispers in their hearts; some speak of how easily they talk with you, never doubting, unquestioning, strong in faith and believing in the Word and messages.
I question everything, I've doubted, I feel as though I never had the gift - You said - Faith is not given to all, why?
IN my soul, deeply hidden, protected from the world and its fears and greed, I know better.
You are here, always, watching, weeping, waiting for the proper time.
I wait as well and believe.