Best Unresponsive Poems


Premium Member A Shout Into the Void

Upon the arc rises familiar visage of tenebrous dawn
As birdsongs protest, yet another day gone wrong,
In anguish of emptiness thrashing~ stygian, forlorn,
Screaming relentlessly of despondent, indignant void
Blasting his emotions, clasped in poignant thoughts.

Nothingness was the theme of his darkened night
That brazenly shrouded luminance of starlit skies,
As the waxing moon turned pallid, refusing to shine
And benevolence of Venus dolefully uttered a sigh
When dreams, too, acceded to nightmares’ assault. 

Life has been a long journey, trekking hills of misery
In hollow pursuit of hope, always despaired trying~
Every forward step of progress unresponsive, lacking
To rescue him from oblivion, from gravity of abyss,
Where silence echoes fear, warning there is no exit.

He knows intimately, she too feels dread of anxiety:
Of ocean-storms unseasonably rushing summer heat,
Parching her delicate notions of blossoming spring,
Of harsh winters encroaching on her autumns fiercely;
Yet, she stands steadfastly, defying the curse of grief.

Prodding goodwill of divinity she tolls bells of harmony 
Giving voice and meaning to life’s reassuring feelings
Clamoring for a day to brighten halo of their morning,
Demanding relief; with her clenched fists at the ready…
Forever, if it takes that long, to alter path of destiny.

December 20, 2021
Poem of the day on December 22, 2021
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 27 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title: A Shout Into The Void
Categories: unresponsive, anxiety, emotions, life, stress,
Form: Verse

Often

4/27/17


Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn
Changes rarely or often
Occuring by the top of the river mouth and at the bottom
Near and far from fruits and vegetables still fresh or rotten
As well as any flowers starting to blossom



Fields full or barely with any cotton or pollen
House that do or don't have a black cauldron
On the walls paintings or posters of batman and robin

I stood solemn
And navigated inbetween columns
Before I saw a downtrodden
Individual with the stature of gollum

They were drinking some concoction
Out of a goblet and eating an opossum
Inside a sodden area full of toxins

I had options
But stopped to talk and help if they had a problem

Untrusting and unresponsive
Until they started to soften
When I spoke truthfully, they began feeling awesome
Then reached the goal, by using their noggin

Realizing we all are allotted
So much time even if more is what you wanted
Whether or not you paid homage
And seeked wealth and knowledge

Always had a little or a lot in common
Many a times I have fallen
Been long forgotten
Heed with caution
And watch it
I'm coming in with more speed than an aeronautic rocket
And the force of a super sonic comet
Sorry that it makes you uncomfortable and on the verge of being
about to vomit
No I'm not, to be honest

The reason the house is so called haunted
The monster underneath your bed and inside your closet
With more clarity than any prophet

Amid molecules that split or bonded
Lines remained dotted
Or connected in and out of any quadrant
As the universe was in constant
Motion with occasional paradoxes

By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories: unresponsive, poetry, rap, word play,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Enter My Dream Smiling

Enter my dream smiling, never pausing to ponder why
Whispering gently to me, exploring the phrases I write
Listening to cadence of heart composing ardent reply

Questions linger unanswered poking pain in teary eye 
Answers blunder aimlessly unresponsive to life's plight
Enter my dream smiling, never pausing to ponder why

I'll bring you comfort, discerning sigh, hearing your cry
Witness the rhythm of passion scintillating in my sight
Listening to cadence of heart composing ardent reply

Not easy to share my feelings when love has yet to try
Come prepared to lose yourself wandering in my night
Enter my dream smiling, never pausing to ponder why

Decipher romantic call, reveling in joy, lifting you high
Hold my affection, embracing love, to shed your fright
Listening to cadence of heart composing ardent reply

Having discerned text of minds you have seen the light
Surrender to sensual feelings , snuggling love just right
Enter my dream smiling, never pausing to ponder why
Listening to cadence of heart composing ardent reply

May 29, 2018
Placed first in early January 2019 contest by Brian Strand
Categories: unresponsive, imagination, romantic,
Form: Villanelle

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Template To Save the Soul a Collaboration With Ivory Jones

Caught off guard in templates of color
 that feeling I have frozen in the flesh 
 is singed by the siege of beauty served

Burnt oranges,reds,and colors of ash
Lusciousness and fleshy desires
Is it just a depiction my eyes have envisioned

Created and demonstrated to cut the frame 
edging the sight to save the soul that saw 
poison in the passion of painted pictures

Our juices produced the perfect antidote 
Which laid the blueprint for the impeccable frame
Together our bodies permeated the template 

A border to beset the beast buried 
under the blunder of censored skills
with the site to see free in cyanide

Boarders now imperturbable 
Representation remains unblembished
Unwanted deciphering becomes unresponsive
Categories: unresponsive, introspection,
Form: Free verse

Sping and Gallows

Dedicated to artist N.

It was the spring so frantic that 
even the ancient gallows at
the city square spawned a green sprout.
I read my poetry aloud 
to you, my first, my awkward and
ecstatic poems that I penned
last night to sing your abstract art,
your cold and unresponsive heart,
your gray-blue eyes and the prune sleet
on my lone way home. Oh, how sweet
you are, young rhymes! Years later I
see that not fondness but those my
first trials of pen resulted in
my happiness, my gloom akin
to deepest hell, my grace, my curse,
my sleeplessness and this small verse.

You married a long time ago,
I sing of other beauties, though,
in spring the memories about
you still make ancient gallows sprout.
Categories: unresponsive, love, memory, spring,
Form: Rhyme

Holy Spirit

Elusive being sought by far and wide
Seen by many unresponsive to our call
As veiled, elusive vacillating bride
Apparently intending to forestall

Don’t look for Holy Spirit up above
Nor in the dark of night in call of prayer
That being portrayed as a Snow White dove
 Comes not with feather born on breath of air

Could it be our signal error in this quest
Is our focus on external source of blessing
Wishing ever hopeful answers to request
For unwanted situation - a redressing

While The Holy Spirit hidden by our sin
So close to be unseen is deep within


3 December 2019
Categories: unresponsive, religious,
Form: Sonnet


Premium Member Through My Fear

Oh granny gran...I'm here, I'm here
I held you so close, even through my fear

You're so cold...please open your eyes
Just once again..see sunny blue skies

Paper white skin, against my rough calloused hand
Each breath slips away, like hourglass sand

Sirens screem, but you can't speak
You tremble...my knees are weak

God granted us these precious days
To laugh again..and be amazed..

And say I love you, although you know
Through my fear, my love will show

*hello everyone.sorry I've not been able to read all your wonderful poems and comment lately...
  I found my Mother In Law in a diabetic coma a few days ago..unresponsive...almost lost her....
  Been caring for her a lot...she is almost 91....hope to be back among the fun real soon..:-) :-)
Categories: unresponsive, caregiving, family,
Form: Couplet

Premium Member The Thrill Was Gone-For Contest

Old Paddy wanted to have a last fling
But quite unresponsive was his old “thing”
He takes a small pill
To get back the thrill
He’s not expected to last until spring



2/19/16
Categories: unresponsive, age, humor,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Music of the Sky

"Music of the Sky"
Sputtering awkwardly to conquer the first morning's air 
While they wake up all around your flower garden 
Promoting an ambiance to a cloudless sunrise 
The emboldened Wood Swallows begin their song

The crack of dawn smiles at you who can't help to smile back 
An enticement to join the activity  
You are a photographer in America  
As your own version to birds of paradise begin  
To tickle your ear with intermittent chirping
 
The fluttering songbirds sing beautifully in soprano
Calling for their unresponsive partner, it might as well be you
To keep them company for a morning babbler who is radiant

Lifting up your spirits 
Showing reluctance for leaving them
But the robins and sun birds deserve attention too
It is you who must take flight now

A kingdom in your continent while everyone puts on a show
Cuckoo! Cuckoo!  
Mezzo-soprano masterpieces offer sweet sounding competition
To lure you in their direction 
You are pulled so many ways and yet
There is no wrong way to go
Tons of free spirits in North America beckon
With fancy allurement for you
A males feathers spread out 

Fascination grows with each sensation to snap a shot
Your patience is well worth the waiting 
Redeemed by the call of the magpies

But the worst part of the day is to come 
When it has the urge to turn into night
And the music of life will cease

Those nocturnal beauties will be punished 
By your absence they go unappreciated
For eight hours while you sleep
A frown composed on your face as you sink to your bed
And there you will settle for the chirping of crickets
Categories: unresponsive, life, nature, america,
Form: Free verse

Doors

When all the doors are closed, and you’re behind
Thick walls that seem to offer no escape
You thrash around, lament the cruel fate,
Beat unresponsive stone with bloody hands.

When all the doors are closed, and you regret
The path not taken, weep about the choice
You did not make, feel that it is too late,
And, in despair, think this is where it ends –

Be still! The prison silence forces you
To listen to the quiet inner voice,
And you’ll find clarity, and see the gate
Through which you can emerge in new green lands.

3/28/2017
For contest Doors
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
Categories: unresponsive, hope, life,
Form: Iambic Pentameter

Last Call

As a child and a teenager I used to attend a mission-hall, 
Which had an outreach to the homeless of Edinburgh; 
And every three weeks until I was about seven,
They would give the last call so that god could your soul deliver. 

They said at the end of every sermon, 
Every three weeks in the evening, 
“This is the last call!” and they meant ever, 
‘Cos Jesus could return any time for the believing. 

I felt so intimated by it, this unkind presence of mind, 
That I could not properly sit on my seat, 
But I knew that they were insane with melancholy, 
And that it was the real dynamics of life that they could not heat. 

I refused to chat with them after services and at the youth club, 
About what I believed and about the in and outs of my thoughts, 
But poignantly sat down with the Youth Fellowship leader once, 
And talked to him about what in me life had very clearly wrought. 

When I said outrightly that I did not believe in the Second Coming, 
And that life was for keeps, give or take a few possibilities, 
It was as if his world crashed down disarrayed in shambles, 
As he was shattered by my philosophical sway and confident amble. 

He realised fully that I was damning their last call, 
The pressure of it and how it riled, writhed and tormented;
That it was for no good reason, for no universal moral principle, 
For no disciplinary cause and for no complimentary angle. 

So he arrogantly walked away from me, rudely with passivity, 
Not aware of his own need of polity, sense and direction, 
But it was a triumph for that mission-hall boy worker, 
To react to an objector so firmly and not himself recapture.

They were generally unresponsive and indifferent, 
To intelligent objectors who had a righteous way, 
Because this left them with their day-to-day lunacy, 
With reality dressed for them to face another day. 

That mission has changed today into a Christian centre, 
Bright and refurbished and selling lunches in a cafe, 
And I am proud of its journey, how far it came, 
Because the transition was by no means lame.
Categories: unresponsive, child, gospel, jesus, leadership,
Form: Rhyme

The Stranger

Broken tears is where it all begins, the love has lifted for now a mist in the air. Tears fall upon and evaporate into love fog. Yours eyes became cold lacking compassion, unresponsive with those shallow stares.
     Stranger in your heart never knew the love we shared shall ever fall apart. Never would have I thought I would be an absence of your heart. To take a journey into your scorned mind, and really see how your feeling inside.
   Your eyes tells me a story of all your lost, even all of your lies. Your soul has begun to die.
Yours cry suffer to inflict pain and torture. Tears began to burn and endure to enflame your pillows at night, intense dislike.
No one is there to kiss, and hold tight behold your over night burial site.
      Leaveing you in a slumber your heart is slaughtered, savagely murdered.
Yearning to once again become a slave, owned by another.
Laughter is what you miss, going through withdraw from my kiss.
Watching me from doorways is harder to resists.
    Remember me? It's the stranger you set a side, but now miss.
          Broken bliss pitiful, pathetic promises. Petty pleasures emptiness whispers, words that leaves blisters. Cutting deeper than any scissors.
Tears over flowing deeper than any river. Symbolism repesentation of  broken mirrors.
Termination limits of love, I perish from existence.
French kisses of death, hollow sunken indented last breath.
       Losing your voice likely to result in defeat, as you couldn't began to speak.
Grief over becomes you difficulty, grasping for a glimpse of me.
Shattered love we mastered, you discover no longer your partner.
                  Forever thee foreigner you disclaimer...
                      So therefore you became...
                            The Stranger.
Categories: unresponsive, girlfriend-boyfriend, life, lost love,
Form: Light Verse

Eminem Protege 2

Eminem Protege 2

Don't care what you think
 I need Ten Shrinks an Ten Pens Full Of Ink
 To Let my Inner Wisdom Tink
 Colder Than Ten Penguins In A Rink
 My Spirit Fitness & Physique at it's Peak 
Adrenaline Obese 
Extinguished to Concrete
 Out the Pyramids Extinct 
Into this Physical Dimension as A Sphinx 
Face of a Beast of a Lynx
 Idiot Beliefs placing limited reach 
on my limitless fatigue 
My Old Image Obsolete
 I stole Potion from Ten Witches An Ten Wishes
 from Ten Genies an Ancient Magicians
 an Buried the lamps in the Ditches
 while I summoned Ten Fighting Spirits
 of Venegance as My Apprentices
 I Opened my Sealed Syllabus
 to Reveal my Ventriloquists 
Just left Hells Kitchen with Skin Itching 
with Skin Blisters open Skin Pigments
 Stealing Lucifers Instruments
 to Use them Against Him 
To appear as Glitches
 against the System
 I cook Hot Meals with Mittens 
an make him taste the Illness 
I'm Inventing
 But only an Sample for Interest
 for His Taste Senses
 cause Hells angels can Sensor the Sizzling
 I'm Fly like Ten Twin Pigeons
 with Eagles Precision
 I'm a Scientist but I ain't writing Science Fiction 
with Knowledge that would leave Einstein Winded
 I been Fighting for Living 
100 percent Percentage
 an no less than a Percent difference
 Still Power in my Engine
 to keep the Ignition Driven
 You can't Compare to these Rare Characteristics
 the Judgements from your Conscious 
is InTolerant to my Unresponsive
 Mental Doctrines 
Im use to Antagonist 
Real Hebrew who's a Zionist
 False Prophets who Diabolic an Jewish
 Judaism Created with Iron Fist
 in A Luciferian Science
 of Enlightenment 
Jewish Hybrids Of Pirates
 Stolen Israels Environment
 I ain't Racist
 Just apart of a Nation
 Created
Created Generations to Generations 
Heritage Invaded
 an Culture Undertaken
 Perpetrated
 by The Synagogue of Satanist 
my fire been Penetrated
 the fire in the eye of the Tiger formulated
 stripes on the tiger Blazing
 I'm Judahs Inspiration
 an Judas Envy Craving
 But I'm not Babylons Patriot
 Bablyonion Doom Waiting
 Doomsday
 when the Moon Change
 The Wolf Rage 
Waging Spiritual Shade
 against Ravenous Wolves in Sheeps Wools
 is Game
 Sharpened Tools 
my Sword is Shaped 
Cut open the Wolves
 an Bathe in the Pool 
of Blood til It's Drained 
I'm a Prophet in the Apocalypse
Categories: unresponsive, birth, character, leadership, new
Form: Free verse

Our Final Conversation

I arrived at my dad's flat
to be greeted by my auntie
who was in a state of shock
she had found my dad
sitting on his bed staring into space
she had tried to engage my dad in conversation
but he was totally unresponsive

the back story briefly:
my dad had lung, skin and prostrate cancer
and he was now living on borrowed time
although he had looked brighter
before he was discharged
today my dad resembled a ghost

I managed to get my dad in his wheelchair
and take him to the bathroom
where he fell unconscious
I slapped my dad's face
I didn't want to
but I had to
he came back to me
the relief was like a volcano exploding

I checked on my auntie
who was still visibly shaking
she was 95 and my favourite auntie
seeing her shaking and crying
made my feel so useless

dad's Macmillan Nurse arrived
and assessed the situation
she rang for the ambulance
I knew the answer already
but I still asked her if this was it
she didn't need to say a word

there was a knock at the door
and in came the paramedics
after carrying out their checks
we headed off to Whiston Hospital
in the back of the ambulance
I held my dad's hand and looked into his eyes
I told him it was almost time to return Home
I encouraged him to embrace the Light
and not to be afraid
I told him his father was there waiting for him
I told my dad I loved him
it was our final conversation.
Categories: unresponsive, appreciation, cancer, dad, life,
Form: Free verse

Fellowship With God

To birds and beasts, God gave the breath of life
but into man, He inserted a soul.
From the dust, God made man in His image
and it is this soul that makes mankind whole.

Our eternal being rests in our souls.
Consciousness therein lies with each person
Some folks don’t realize they have a soul;
for it's their body they are immersed in.

When Adam and Eve defied their Creator,
over their soul, His spirit quit hovering
They had been unresponsive to His will
and their body thus lost its covering.

The connection with God, man’s spirit, had died
yet their body and soul remained alive.
The soul had a new-found mind of its own
apart from the plan that God had devised. 

The redemption of souls is essential
to understanding that life is eternal.
Body and spirit are destined for death;
the soul is our seed, undying kernel.

The question remains – the soul’s salvation?
Christ’s death on the cross pardoned our sin;
restoring the connection with God’s spirit
which indwells all those who want His life therein.

When the body dies without a spirit
the soul goes straight to dwell in the abyss,
resting there 'til the Creator chooses
to inquire whence the spirit went amiss.

When the body that dies has Christ’s spirit
that soul goes straight into God’s keeping 
to that heavenly place of rest called home
where we’ll serve Him with all of our being.

In Christ’s resurrection, believers have hope.
His Spirit guides the soul back into line
with what God always wanted - fellowship
with His creation, with all things benign.

That’s why I praise Him, the Lord of my soul.
Christ is risen, Hallelujah, I sing.
That is why I tell you, you can be whole
by believing in Christ, by making Him King.

written May 10, 2016
Categories: unresponsive, 11th grade, body, death,
Form: Quatrain
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

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