Best Unromantic Poems
I reckon I'm showing my age and am pretty well set in my ways,
But I have zero tolerance for the 'noise' called music nowadays!
The metal bands and rap are loathsome to my sensitive ears.
I haven't heard a melodic tune on the radio for over sixty years!
Pleasing to the ear was Vaughn Monroe and his mellow baritone.
Likewise, the romantic, comprehensible crooning of Vic Damone.
A songster who could stir even the most unromantic soul,
Was the silky-smooth delivery of debonair Nat King Cole!
I truly enjoyed the ballads belted out by the ever-living Elvis,
And got a kick out of watching in action his double-jointed pelvis!
Delightful were the songs vocalized by cheerful Doris Day.
It was so relaxing listening to the Velvet Fog, Mister Mel Torme!
Will there ever be another Glenn Miller, Perry Como or Peggy Lee,
Dinah Shore, Frankie Laine or Jo Stafford entertaining me?
Oh, to hear again The Mills Brothers and their sweet harmony.
Now all I hear is dreadful screams and gross disharmony!
Today's drivel to my romantic soul gives me great offense.
'Tis alien to my ears and doesn't make a bit of sense.
Music back then invited you to hold your gal in close embrace,
As you danced and murmured sweet nothings face to face!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Entry for Nayda Ivette Negron's "Favorite Music Type" Contest
TRENCHANT WENCH FROM THE UNROMANTIC MIDLANDS
In the pub, I serve out the pints
My comely bosom gives a hint of home
And what men are escaping from – dreary sex
With housewives who scour the sink with vigour
Trim the joint and lard the fowl
Gristles of fat clinging to their knuckles
As the froth of beer clings to men’s beards.
England is a riff between the breakfast table and tea
Where homely condiments drown the flavour
Of each day, and newspapers live on scandal
The seamier the better. It makes the ordinary man
Happier than ever not to be one of the toffs
Glad that she can be had for a song
Save the one that lies buried in her throat.
Goth Girl, ebony black, manners slack, hit the sack
Gothic, Hispanic, remote chic, slick, sick
Goth Girl, non- conform, nonsense, hence
Gothic, lick lick lick, slurp, chirp
Goth Girl, tongue stud, bottle of bud, I could
Gothic, unromantic, drink quick, be sick
Goth Girl, give us a twirl, strip naked, curl
Gothic, sarcastic, bombastic, bliss, give us a kiss
Goth Girl, heart of stone, all alone, have a bone, go away, stay
Gothic, strange chic, sober, drunk, hic hic
Goth Girl, steer clear, cheers, rent arrears
Gothic, ankle boots with zip, zipperty doo dah, wheres the bar
Goth Girl, sexually free, three in a bed in garden shed, she said
Gothic, food on tick, pan non-stick, chuck a brick, night in nick
Goth Girl, nose ring, ring in nipple, bed is triple
Gothic, not the same, no shame, insane, country lane
Goth Girl, love you, love to screw, screw you, you too
Gothic, lethargic, Nostalgic, cares not, eats snot
Goth Girl, has knits, squeeze your zits, sqeeze your ****
Gothic, give us a twirl, Tobacco bag, share your shag
Goth Girl, Dark Sin, Virgin, like twin
Goth Girl, Hygiene, squeaky clean, smokescreen
There was never any controlling it?
No dodging it. Unloading it?
It stuck us both together and held us tightly in its grip
We tried our hand at moulding it
?Healing it. Holding it?
It wanted us together; head, heart and thrusting hip
Once, we nearly cornered it?
We threatened it. We warned it?
But it came once more and sheltered us, ‘till we fought with it again.
Black bruised we gently eased it
?We blew on it and teased it?
We rescued and revived it, till it burst back into flame
Then life drove us and we dashed it?
Thrashed it. Trashed it?
Tested every fibre, every ounce of strength it had?
We badgered it and blagged it,?
My word! How we have shagged it!
?It flared again and gave us, all the pleasure that it had
We disrespected and abused it.
?Never soothed it. Smoothed it?
Caressed or contemplated, its very gentle deeds We hounded it. Confounded it.?
In drink, we’ve damn near drowned it
?But still, it softened life for us and satisfied our needs
This love, it lays between us
?Binding us. Bleeding us?
The tether and the freedom that only it can give Searing us. Endearing us?
Together, there is no fear in us
?This 'It'? Well, that's simple. 'Tis the reason that we live
Invigilator par excellenence
Dressed in rags and standing adamant
In soul-killing solitude
Wedded to inane duty of scaring birds
Drawing attention of solitary wayfarers
Seizing with wonder the innocent children
Of farmworkers
Vanguard of farmhouse- frightening spectacle
For wild animals who otherwise would devour
the cattle.
Happily swinging and singing with winds
Tossing in glee with corns
So unromantic that unmoved by the spring
Lcking flamboyance of gulmohr and gaudy
Flowers
which change color like chamaleon
With touch of promiscuous seasons
doesn't move,so stoic.
Unprotected in rain- sun -winter
Sans wages sans praise performing duty
With steadfastness,an epitome of loyalty,
Simplicity and commitment...
Eyes of night beckon forth,
steal from me this deathly force,
raise above your steely voice,
this dagger etched in poisoned love.
Cut and slice fragile thoughts of hope joy faith,
so I may laugh in mocking jest.
Stitch my hatred deep inside,
so his heart may lie and rot within my stagnant sin..
People and Nature need sunshine,
it's a free gift God intended for all;
flowers turn to the sun to grow,
while humans seek it to feel fine.
Spring is meant for strolls to admire eloquent beauty,
Summer is the best season for many a beach-goer,
Fall is for the admirers of auburn trees delightful to the eye,
but Winter is for skiers who fear no sun rays on face and hair.
Never seen a woman or girl standing up blowing a kiss in radiant air?
Is it for her sweetheart, or for someone dearly missed as her mother?
She gets carried away thinking that clouds will deliver it to him or her...
either way, it's a gesture of thoughtfulness that shows profound care.
A guy doesn't think as a gal, he differs in thought and action...
he likes to give real kisses, not dream about them so vainly,
and being impatient and unromantic, he misses out on fantasy;
he rarely looks for any sunshine, only for lips that hold attraction.
I want to die
To hang from a tree
I want to die
Lord Death is calling me.
I don't want to live
This body has drawn it's last breath
I don't want to live
For there is nothing left.
All hope is gone
Lost in unromantic bliss
All hope is gone
I've never felt pain like this
My soul has perished
Gone in heartbreaking love
My soul has perished
I shall fly forever like the lonesome dove.
A sudden rush of blood
A sharp constriction of muscles
A quick twitch in my abdomen
A million droplets on my forehead
All indicating am not in the mood
But my mind chooses to push on
A shy escapes my lungs
My mind goes blank
Words escape my lips
My muscles go limp
My legs almost giving away
Yet I was moving and was getting closer
A smooth cough escapes my dry mouth
She looks up and my eyes shyly wonder away
My mouth mumbles something softly
Her gentle reply brings me back to reality
I had moved this far;so I realized
And i knew there was no way back
I have finally made the move
Here i was fidgeting for the words
looking for the romantic phrases i had prepared
Hard I labored but none came out
Stammering a few unromantic words
She stops and listens
Finally I have made a life long friend
Lissome, silhouette shadow
Gliding the long winding stairs
Iridescent gown changing glows
Flowing, silky bright black hair
Breezy, damp cold but warms
Fresh, sweet fragrant perfumes
Lingering aura full of charms
Scent of a flower in bloom
Head with jeweled, ornate crown
Standing firmly in a dreary hall
Failures stubbornly shut down
No one heard her pleading call
Endless, lonely morning walks
With a love that struck her blind
Inane, unromantic shallow talks
A hollow life, a fixed knot that binds
Eyes closed on conscious mind
Beating heart bleeding copiously
Options she chose to leave behind
A love slave enchained by destiny
In truth, a tiara pricked with thorns
Messy hair, rent from too many pulls
Black and blue, her dress is torn
Every night she’s beaten by the bull
She’s like a wind that circles a room
Doubting an escape from a little hole
She chooses to stay despite the doom
Ignore the abuse, her clan must be whole!
CREATIVITY IN VISUAL ARTS
What is this creativity in visual arts
Where is it found, I believe it’s lost;
I don't believe that galleries are narrow?
For the paths they’ve taken now lost;
Water colored scenery of broken lovers quarries;
Galleries are broad pictures beyond belief.;
Are you upset by how tolerant they are?
Does it tear you apart to see the galleries so all-inclusive?
Exhibitions are not unromantic!
People goocking exceptionally total fanatics
Do exhibitions make you shiver?
Mystic elephants painted without his liver;
They paint a white line on a white wall;
I see spill black paint on the floor;
Are museums populated anymore
CREATIVITY IN VISUAL ARTS
I cannot help but stop and look at the yellow stitchery.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the stitchery,
Gently it goes - the cowardly, the yellowish, the white-liver part
CREATIVITY IN VISUAL ARTS
3/5/19
Somewhere, someplace,
someone is playing a guitar.
Sitting alone,
in a room, in an unromantic city.
Somewhere, someplace,
someone truly honest, sublime
birth of a phoenix
renaissance of hope
where the snow piles up
and the sun becomes a clouded pimple.
Somewhere, someplace,
someone is alone
in an unromantic room.
Believing that no one hears,
or cares.
Never caring, never hoping,
someone is playing six strings
to the beat of the oversoul.
The amber moon
Super moon last night saw it from my terrace
18% brighter and 20% nearer, said the meteorologist
How unromantic can you get?
Hugh yellow and beautiful, so close I could reach
The moon with my broom, I felt the pull levitated
And dared to dream big.
Beauty should be shared till it becomes
A memory pooled by lovers, but you were not there.
This was a night of the vague nearness of the one you love.
I walked on a sandy lane thinking of your absence.
Why don't poets write poems about stocks?
Well, they're unromantic for sure, like the innards of clocks
Ofttimes stock prices rise or fall on the strength of company reports
Which most poets can't make hide or hair of, be they long or they short
Then all those myriad ratios investors are so good at flaunting
Price to Sale, Dividend Yield, Price Earnings, they all seem so daunting
And when they published that book, "Stocks for Dummies"
Literati like you and me felt really, really crummy
So, to sum up the reasons why there are no poems on stocks
They're as aesthetically appealing as a high tech black box
Must we shun all dreams
and be told not to fantasize?
Isn't it unrealistic and unromantic?
We need to dream when stars
are above our drowsy heads:
don't they guard our dreams
from all the forces stronger than us,
darker than shadows that seem frantic
and frighten us with their size?
We need an escape from worries!
Close those blinking and weary eyes
and let your new dream begin right away,
don't open them for any reason...
stay in that realm of fantasy!
Oh, should you renounce dreams
and become another soul of desperation?
I suggest that we allow ourselves
to be carried away by mysterious dreams,
become more powerful than reality
and continue dreaming as we have lately;
every piece will fit into place without missing
anything that we are afraid of losing!
Must we shun all dreams
and trust in false perceptions
leaving us empty-handed?
How foolish it'll be to let them end...
when persistence can change everything
without the thought of surrendering!