Best Unrecognisable Poems

POTD 8th Jan 24


 NOTHING LESS ~ NOTHING MORE

The ambushed night when all was still,
Amidst the gloom, anxiety took my will.
Though the moon cast its calming glow,
shadows lurked in the night's dark flow.

As the final pages turned, I pondered on treasured lessons I'd learned.
I took...

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Somedays I feel like I'm surrounded by bars and bricks
encaged on a stage in tar that sticks.
There's an agonisingly unfamiliar reflection in the mirror,
as my eyes detect an unrecognisable inferior figure.

I can't see the stars in the sky at night,
and the sun doesn't rise to...

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"As a Child to Man, The Turning"



When the father is missing
Where goes the child
Walking barefoot wild
on a beach where 
all his sandcastles 
are washed away 
and mothers and sisters
are holy 
their towers high
unreachable 
he is measured against
the merit of the missing father
unrecognisable, unattainable
and his life...

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In the quiet morning light, for the first 
time, I truly gazed into the mirror, 
What I saw was unrecognisable,
I must confess I was  close to it but 
had to draw closer still,
I was surprised to see a jigsaw of 
times past.

Once a canvas,...

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I opened my heart
A heart without walls
Fragile & weak
Tired … damaged
I bared my soul
My past, my fears
My ghosts.
We shared
We laughed
We kissed
Together we danced,
Like children without cares
In the rain
Under the stars …. I was hypnotised
Your sensual mouth 
Words softly spoken 
Securely penned for eternity
With meaning and...

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"Night Flight"

the sky is 
an open eye
blue as the
Orpheus ocean 

clear in the 
shallows' grit
naivety irritates it 
birthing hard gems

it calls in 
from beneath 
the undertow 
a new dawn  

Morpheus deep
bipolar colours 
unrecognisable
hues and tones

true tides 
swiftly turn and
show themselves
for what they are

fair weather...

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At the breaking of the new dawn
Where the hopeful golden glow melts the dew
A sleepy world awakens to the brightened new dawn of life
But at the striking of that aged light
Where the anguished reddened heat squanders dew
I die a thousand deaths
Knowing that tomorrow I will...

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The Shed.

The door creaks open and refracted light creeps in,
A place filled with creation, even in the bin.
Smells of shaven eucalypt and mountain ash fill up all the senses.
Planes, saws and a miriad of tools are propped atop the benches.

Unrecognisable shapes sit in the vice...

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Time has turned us into strangers to our own past, 
unrecognisable beasts in search of some unknown variable 
to find a stability as a rock to our own convictions 
that were lost with the change of tides.

Often condemned for our portrayal 
of stereotypical convictions attached...

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The way the old lay,
weak, it's difficult to make out the words they say,
sometimes they speak nonsense and mumble away,
but somedays they are okay,
acting more like themselves from back in the day,
yet still with less than they once had,
and for them the best days have...

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In this strategic somewhere
Battalions marched to nowhere
Keeping peace in face of dragons
Concealed in the foothills.
Tiger tracks in sand vanish
As though sucked into oblivion,
Wiped out by desert storms
And the unforgiving winds.
Dear Whoever letters mailed
To post-boxes, obliviously, telling
Of whirlybird crashes
And the charred dead remains.
Friendly fire a misnomer,
Murderous...

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The magic of the puppeteer’s hands, brings life through the strings
The mass of wooden limbs on the floor, unrecognisable as things
They all applauded as they watched the master puppeteer at work
He made his puppets dance, his duty he did not shirk.

Then the day arrived, they...

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Bought home in a battered case one day 
He took it out and and scratched away
Playing out of tune and terribly flat
He scared the daylights out of the cat

The horsehair that ran along the bow
Had escaped and departed long ago 
Never mind, he played without...

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Jimmy warned Pinks of her dangerous inclinations 
of chugging too close to the capricious edge, but she kept laughing 
and refused to listen until she skid and bounced down the hill.
Jimmy retrieved her in an unrecognisable state with a torn coat,
ripped pinafore and a muddy...

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downsizing was meant to become
a tool for freedom and devotion
yet it remained a passion unfulfilled
crowded in cherished possessions

they call me a hoarder although 
I prefer to be seen as a
distinguished collector
stylish hunter and gatherer
connoisseur of trinkets 
pieces of bric-a-brac 
flea market bargains
minute trivia 
irrelevant non-essentials
claptrap...

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