Best Unscarred Poems
My island slept for years in the care
Of Tainos, Caribs and Arawak
Their canoes on the sea breast bare
Dreaming of milk from manioc
The swamps unscarred, trees secure
Batos and songs rinsed in the azure.
Then came doom laden caravels came
Prancing with Conquistadores
Their swords to slaughter, then to shame
The Ave Marias slutted by whores
Whose blazing balls of canons denied
The sufficient death of the crucified.
My island was the Mary Magdalene held
For ransome in the frying lust
For gold, the continental wars spelled
A trembling virginity in the dust
A lost of idyllic grace, where bloody men
Sowed the evil inherited again and again.
From Spanish to French, Spanish to British
How callous is all history
A spectre publishing the marginal brutish
Shrivelled glory of identity.
And still my Mary, her alabastor box a gift
This tropic wonder, this lignum vitae of thrift
From empty tomb to broken hearted disciple
Evanglizes the Mahoe dawn
Over the Blue Mountain where peace ripple
On the motto, still the fawn
In the forest brings the stag to court
This island stands ready to file a good report.
I Am Not your doormat
I Am Not your punching bag
I Am Not a target
I Am Not yours to reprimand
I Am Not unscarred
I Am Not without
I Am Not the enemy
I Am Not your doubt
I Am Not your keeper
I Am Not required
I Am Not your mother
I Am Not your child
I Am Not a pillar
I Am Not a flower
I Am Not unbreakable
I Am Not to be devoured
I Am Not to be ignored
I Am Not to be taken for granted
I Am Not a heartless soul
I Am Not empty handed
I
Am
Your Wife
The sweetest love I ever knew,
Was a secret love not given.
A sublimating ecstasy--
A symphony from Heaven.
A verb without an object;
A means without an end.
A jasmine scented sweetness
On the summer evening wind.
One fleeting season of my life,
Of throbbing, tender glory,
When on the pages of the book
Was penned an unread story.
Then, deep within my virgin heart,
Unscarred by love vows wasted,
Dwelt dreams of rapture yet unknown,
Of vintage wine untasted.
But then, as happens with all fools,
There came the tragic day,
When, to the sorrow of my soul,
I gave my love away.
Now, love unwisely given
Is, often, love refused.
Like a rose rejected by the wind,
Shattered, crushed and bruised.
If only, now, the power were mine
That blossom to enliven,
It would bloom again within my soul,
That glorious love not given.
“THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS WINNING OR LOSING. THERE IS ONLY WINNING OR LEARNING.”
Thank you Anna Lund, for allowing me to use your words to weave this lyric!
***
You never learned to live your life
And never learned the art to thrive
You keep on stumbling
You keep on learning
Your voice is weak, your words are strong
You are impatient, it takes so long
But you keep on trying
You keep on trying
The thought that you will lose so hard
Will never win, remain unscarred
Still keep on trying
You keep on learning
Want angel wings instead of chair
Want your children all be there
You keep on fighting
You keep on winning
Because that’s what you do in life
You don’t just try it, no you dive
And keep on learning
You keep on learning
You win, you stumble and you fall
And stand again, stand really tall
There is no losing
You keep on learning.
***
April 14, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
There, thrust to
high Heaven
my ever trusted foe
whose flashes flames
of fine froth
lured me within his
caste raps.
There, lies my
intent torment;
A galaxy of my
inventor
Deadly duel
reminiscence.
Falsehood keg me in
Bars,
spade off, from
sprayed spittle.
Like a barren
scarecrow.
Stood scar of the
underworld,
A trait, from
trusted Martian
His facade holds a
fang
His rear springs a
barrow
His mid inhabits a
maim,
runs the raw rubbles
of a rival,
What a rust of
uncrowned remedies?
Like the unspoken
mirage.
Seared off from the
carcass
Set asunder from my
design
Have I return unhurt
and unscarred?
Where are the fang,
barrow and maim
That once engulfs my
whole sanity
where is my
entrusted foe?
Where are hands that
spared me?
Whose satire bears
me up,
Like the spider’s
barrow
is the cradle of my
existence?
There goes my foe
There goes my
torment
A friend and a
comforter,
Engrave in a solemn
sepulcher
Owe in spread wings
to oblivion
Leaving a fang for a
portion:
Solace that hurts,
Secrets that sieved
the siege
A hidden jewel for a
treasure
Truth that heals.
Amidst shattered hues, they stay alive,
Broken crayons, yet they thrive.
Purple persists in its royal grace,
Pink too, in its delicate embrace.
Shorter, yes, and somewhat marred,
Yet each color, its essence unscarred.
A tapestry woven, albeit frail,
In their imperfection, they unveil.
Awkward they feel, in a trembling hand,
Difficult to sharpen, to understand.
Yet in their struggle, a lesson learned,
To cherish each moment, each color earned.
Through the scribbles and the lines,
A masterpiece, against all confines.
A star awarded, a testament true,
In every stroke, their resilience anew.
An A+ gleams, a testament bright,
In the world of hues, they shine with might.
For in their fractures, a beauty found,
Broken crayons, still coloring profound.
Too tired, i thought io myself, to lance this wound again
So I'll let the sufferings flow where no good tidings go
And we'll call it a truce in the end.
Oh, tell me once more,
How this life of ours should go,
Cause the words fall to the floor anyhow
And the small town girl's turned penthouse femme fatale
Oh but we knew how these city streets howl faux freedoms
In the face of the soft-skinned and weak minds
But mine's been all the weaker for believing poison is love
And I drank the barrel dry till I went blind to the holy light
Damn these tears and this darkness of soul
But if that's the case babe, mine's been rolling in coal
Oh, I ain't a scholar, nor master of schemes
just a two-bit pauper with sprawling rock-candy dreams
the letters don't fall into place like they did once before
And I don't search for the gold in folk's smiles anymore
I've been drowning in sin and the lifeblood of all lies
Worst part's been hiding a lost soul behind brown eyes
Tell me honey, how's life been to you?
Well, the winds tell me the sound's still alive and well
Ah, but the wind ain't so kind in the dark when your wrapped in loneliness
And broken strings on a battered guitar have lost the will to tell the tale
New strings sell good, but you pay with your heart
Aren't we running out of pieces by now ?
Well baby, meet me on the corner of 5th and eternity beyond
Of the hope and fiery passion we learned to burn in till we went wild
And can you find your way back to the stars babe?
And can you take me back to our unscarred years
before we spilled the blood of dreams not yet born
Are you ready mama?
Whisper it to me low...
In that voice of a longin soul...
Let's go.
© Robert
Help! Help me!
I've committed a crime so stupid
Why didn't I listen to the signs
They held 'Forbidden' written in blood
yet I was too intrigued by curiosity
to tuck tail turn away
The fruit so sweet, so tantalizing
like a siren to pirates
became a wagging finger of smoke, beckoning seductively
Disastrous, catastrophic
this has turned out to be
They are covering every inch of this city
breaking in buildings
searching in streams
shooting townsfolk
all in search of me
and like a coward I flee for my life
in less than perfect stride
to save my own behind
Masterpiece, this city was a masterpiece
now it's a wreck
City of Bones
City of Rubble
City of Despair
City of Betrayal
cause I'm betraying the ones I said I'd never leave
but I tread on pebbles
near the city of gates
unguarded, unprotected
but I laugh so treacherous
while I see the explosions sounding off dismayal
Sound betrayal, sound betrayal
while I leave unscarred, unscathed, disturbed
They drift gently
down(downed)?
Into the heart they root,
confetti on desperate streets
glowing like gilded red roses.
Smell them as they chant your songs.
so very often (semi-pure-hearted) they keep things(you) aloft,
far above
the stingers
the biters of early frost.
All the while death's photographic memory
tapdancing and tossing needles.
You feel you can ride razors, go unscarred.
A pinwheel inside the bubble of soda pop dreams,
live forever's eternity...
The loins of the mind, a crisp confident ball of catnip and tinsel.
Every by-way of everyday doused in gentle flames.
Every gaze a swaying mosaic of prairie flowers...
but the sun is but a blemish to storm.
The downy gaze is but a concrete stare,
the eyes of hope glancing off yesterday.
When trails were filled with bike bells and pulse.
Petals of just being, brushed beneath tender chins.
We both liked butter and blurry stars... and we kissed...
clumsily, bad chip-toothed - pure.
Sediments of puppy love and living will devolve,
Wings tend to become claws
flight into crawl...
An uncomfortable lavender.
Paths will rut, become trough
cold canyon
flash flooding crashing.
Broken flowers cascading under the chin
butter turns
rancid
crows barking,
"I told you so-should have listened to father,
when he begged you to slow down.
The silk of naivety leads to brushfires in the mind.
Everything given to scorch...
the hills, the troughs
we (the survivors) hang from trees
groping the dark
to descend to the bones of things once loved
of things once cherished
of things now hated
of things avoided
things that lay dead...
a plague of darkness bred
in the silences
of
hopeless.
The lullaby raped into hoarseness,
like bike bells in winter.
I'm fresh, a fresh rose,
With beauty unscathed,
Covered in a skin, soft and smooth, unscarred.
If you mean harm, just let me be,
Touch me not, if you endeavour to crush me.
.
I'm green, a greeny leaf,
With youthful blood and zeal,
Of wishful dreams and daring will.
So if your plan is not to tend me, leave!
Abstain from molesting me, the fairest of leaves.
.
Don't break me, i want to grow,
Don't break me, nurture me instead.
In my pursuit of knowledge, I will define my destiny
Shedding the insulting notions that so many others have conceived
And remove the cloaks, which you have draped over me
In my pursuit of awareness, i will seek my true identity
Become things far greater than what the mortal eyes can see
The embodiment of courage, derived from my ancestry
In my pursuit of understanding I proudly pave my own path
I extinguish adversities, smothering its wrath
Navigating the obstacles that you erected my past
In my pursuit of wisdom, I remove the stain filled stigmas
Maneuvering the years of oppression, resolving the enigmas
My history empowers my pride, it doesn't interpret my dilemma
In my pursuit of perception, I defy the statistics
Fist clinched, pounding in the air, to shatter their ignorance
I battle unawareness with wisdom, the most profound form of vengeance
In my pursuit of insight, I seek to discover my origin
Retracing my roots back to the Motherland.
Dreaming of the home that I’ve never known, from which I descend
In my pursuit for consciousness, I right the wrongs of a painful legacy
I will rise from the remnants of your subjugation, bold and victoriously
Unscarred and unmarred I will stand triumphantly
In my pursuit of me
Beauty Beyond The Skin
Beauty in the ancient past must have been far more than skin deep and a sight for sore eyes
Every person, place, and thing in the entire universe was unmarred, unscarred, and undisturbed
Animals roamed freely, being at peace with each other; never having to kill or be killed for survival
Unlike our present world of savagery and misery; of insecurity and incivility, that we have come to know
Time heals all wounds they say; so let’s take hold of the hands of time while there is still time
Imagination of the portrait that God painted with His creative hands, helps erase the ugliness
Families ever intact; fortunes not idolized; food enough for all; fleeting fame, never to be worshiped
Until we all learn to love for who we are, as simply God’s creative beings, we will never experience beauty
Love never fails; it will never hate; it does not boast itself; it builds up others, and wishes the best for them
12302015(PS Contest with the theme of “Beautiful”)
The world is savage, punishing and hard.
We experience more than we can bear.
While not a one of us comes out unscarred,
it isn't even anything like fair.
We long for a bit of recognition
for precious things we offer up and share.
We all rate. Life's not a competition.
There is little reason we must compare.
We all need empathy, we try so hard.
When the world plunges us into despair,
and the life given us we would discard,
we must find someone on the earth to care.
A lake presided o'er by mystic elves,
this world is but a mirror of ourselves.
As the moon drifts away on the sea
I'm shivering in the freeze
Of a lonely breeze
Stars cascade on my mind
I'm just looking for what's mine
Pretending to feel fine
A meteor shower isn't what I need
As I'm falling to my knees
Mouthing to the heavens, "please"
Melodic memories mesmerize
As if the universe is telling me lies
Crowning me the lord of flies
The universe opens up like a book made of stars
And I'm wondering why it was so hard
To not break away unscarred
See the stars in the sky are long dead
But beautiful even if they died
Just damned souls that can't hide
Flowers blossom with moon pearls
Before my fingers unfurled
And beheld by a hungry world
Rainbows shoot over and over on the horizon
And that's just where my eyes are
When the coming sunrise chases lies far
I'm just a man seeing the beauty untold
Unfold in the cold of night I know
This is a splendor only the stars can show
But as the moon drifts away on the sea
I'm shivering in the freeze
Of a lonely breeze
But not for long as I feel the sun
Light dancing on my skin I'm no longer shunned
And the ethereal truth leaves me stunned
I was always a child of radiant light
And I no longer have to look to the sky
To figure out why
For as long as I dream I can defeat hate
And chase away my stubborn hard ways
That lead to bad decisions and dark days
But deep down I still knew
I'll always swoon for the moon
That drifts away on the sea too soon
—wThis Thing Called Aging
1All day, no, far more nearly for 2 years,
I have been thinking I have had
Enough of being old, being
Pleasant about this form of present:
I have had enough of this aging task.
I wish to go back— not, no, not
Return to my troublesome youth.
No returning, please,but, perhaps,
A re-setting of some physical,
.Dimensional clock, just as springtime
Returns every year and the perennials
Re-grace us all around, splendidly,
Their petals unscarred.
I will concede to grayed hair, even to
These painful bones, but I want
To hand in how I drop every 3rd
Thing I touch, misplace every 3rd
Thing I set down, or take a fall every 3rd
Outing I dare. How it goes on
That I must ask help to stand,
To lift, to fetch, to set down, to plan.
As decades passed, perhaps I gained
Some wisdom, tho now must pray
Daily for strength. And even if
I cannot travel anymore, I retain
A universe of unknowns - by Faith - in
Views from my soul, for which
I need not squint or lean in closer
To the turning pages...
I was a ballet dancer in my youth.
I miss in this aging, the liquidity
Of motion, and I give apologies
For my neediness, and also give
Thanks for this continuing life...
Not ballet, but a tango with language,
And a promenade with my dreams:
This concourse of wishing traverses
A decrepit, wooden bridge failing
Its hold over a river of inconsequence.
And, next time these desires consume
A further day, I shall laugh,
Just as aging will have taught me to do.
*********************************
sally young-Eslinger2020 (c)