Best Unseasoned Poems
Amidst reality of my life two single things remain
inflection of your voice and glow of your tender eyes
held safe by this memory we become transparent rain
wild as the tidal waves of Bristol souls of no disguise
fluid as the ocean we are open inlets, giving rise
sepia moments of a little cottage hidden in the cove
the scent of sweet cinnamon and the taste of your clove
the cackle sound of unseasoned wood against the brick
we sucked the flavors of our passion, and called it love,
holding on to each other, like flames on a candle wick
molten wax and liquid centers with all I hold so dear
when the moon comes into view the stars turn into glass
willful moments arching as tender reeds adhere
we spiral down the staircase, of God's Mandir
we find the miracle of us, and know that it will last
caught between two soft spots we are cloaked in silk
like two lovers in heaven or two lonesome sacred elks
amidst the reality of my life, two single things remain
the taste of a kiss and the place from whence we came
you my first love, were always right as rain.
August 27, 2021
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Contest Name: Vagabond Dreams
Categories:
unseasoned, appreciation, love,
Form:
Quintain (English)
I only be looking down now, looking inside myself now,
not head set in defeat but reflection, not the thoughts but the actual events that happened, wild flower child, yea right boom boy im a power plant, a quater-back serving audibles, wide-receivers run em in slants, run deep, swapping the rythym up, call it skill or pronounce them fiery darts of the devil, replay read a lot of fake words, deploy nothing but truths that carry troops, dead-zone drop-off swing wide scrape the danger, winged right there then, repairs upmost respected like I have a strong command of the english langauge, a strong sense of honor, PoW's plenty of wise men, plenty that u couldnt challenge on the battlefield, u better be ready to die when you walk in their battallion, Feel the valance the stealth, feel nothing feel what you feel wether its false politics American Goverment, I dont condemn my country, American people be the damn blindest, conditionally unseasoned , refutedly would he die in that war man? Well im a black speck in his eyes dying where ever it dont make a ****, you think a soldier gives a damn about being remembered, nah its about fighting your hardest, living longer, having your friends back, perfecting that last love letter, asking God for guidance, as waiting for it, Command given stretch the ammunition, permissions only to use your intuition, now i put a disatant on that idea's be balanced if you spot it u got it, six strikes 3 terrible battle plans, instructions be on a good heart. we life size- we realize it. we competition cams with a lope pulling deeper compression, true intentions blow up in your mind like mushroom clouds, like the repurcussion was a blast to the laws broken in an accident, cheap shells cheap never be Blaine c cheap s sweetlies b bashing breaking *****es, bullstrong. balls with the brillance, beautiful blows, brainstorming, bulls of bashan beaware the wheel of furtune turns quick ask me I slip out simple vibes I be on top soon. blanks broken hollypoints I keep one jax in the chamber, Bang baby I still hit hard with the power, bang *****es blaine me, can u blame me? Straight and narrow , not like in a false form, warfront back on a warhorse, back on the foremost thoughts of a man with a decision to make..
Categories:
unseasoned, slam,
Form:
Crying out in anguish.
Flesh, and blood, and voice!
A cleansed soul left to dry!
Such searing pain, such poise.
Gnashing waves rise,
to salty eyes.
No mercy!
No release shall fall!
How shall she live,
this wicked life?
What will become,
of these hollowed walls?
She cannot breathe!
She cannot fight!
All hope has faded,
gone from her sight.
You! All the many you!
Know you this pain?
Her lifes mate!
How shall she bare,
empty weight?
This lifeless spirit!
She bleeds dry, in daily strides.
Oh, a survivor she is, to be sure.
Rising naturaly as the tides.
Tho this unseasoned shell...
will prevail.
It is not a happy day!
Ner a voice is heard!
Love! Love!
Oh Love!
This union, this best!
All seeking, in times test.
Upon her face, balances some hope.
Who now, shall give testament to this life?
When all is woe unto this widowed wife.
Categories:
unseasoned, death, husband, loss,
Form:
Free verse
You played the game of thrones
with devious glee and amoral passion
Nothing was too low for you to stoop to
Your career-cutting teeth were honed
in staid institutions of medieval bastions
Ruling class initiations helped toughen you,
made you understand
the necessary things you needed to do
But, it was only part of the game,
you always knew
On graduation day,
you were thrust into the political arena
against an old, crafty pachyderm lion
He had tough, scarred skin,
and you had to fight dirty for your first win ...
but it's a different world,
now that you're an incumbent
Some say you were looking rather presidential
A few years have now rolled around,
and your party's touting you for the crown
It seems easy enough ...
you're going up against an unseasoned rookie
So you start off by giving him a sound byte cookie,
hoping he stick his greedy hand in the jar
Then you put a couple of honeys around his hands,
and sent the curious media bees after him, buzzing
That made the amateur millionaire boiling mad,
then you talked trash about his wife and his dad
You was slinging the mud, often and fast,
loaded with plenty of ammo from his dirty past
Made your arch-rival raise the white flag of surrender,
and the path to the throne littered with so many pretenders
Now you're the king sitting high atop all alone,
with all your enemies vanquished and subdued
Cast off to the wayside,
as you penthouse gaze with a panoramic view
Having satiated thoughts of conquest
It was never personal ... it was only politics,
you always knew
Categories:
unseasoned, dark, perspective, political, society,
Form:
Narrative
If I weren't me, who would I be?
would I be imprisoned, chastised, unseasoned?
If I weren't me, how many personalities would tease?
taking me from ease, subjecting me to infamy?
If I weren't me, why on earth would I be you?
would you bring out the best in me?
have me love you for all eternity?
I see you in me
as sure cure for my therapy.
*
Categories:
unseasoned, identity,
Form:
I stand, waiting, out of the dappled sun light.
Listening to the hollow timpani that is my
stomach, the adrenalin coursing
through my chest, telling me 'its time'
My neuronal switch 'clicks'. I am no longer
inert, I am hunter. I have smelled the air
and read its menu. I have stretched life
back into my stagnant limbs
The smell is strong, close. A young doe
stands on the edges of her grazing family.
Young, healthy, unseasoned. When I pounce she
will Freeze. Making the kill easy. She will be easy
I stifle a memory. I have lost so many on the hunt.
Sometimes, I get too close and they scream, causing
agitated stares, that force me back. Back to my
hunger.
Twenty tries since my last kill. Twenty times I have salivated at
the thought of my hunger being satisfied. My preening delayed ,
like a peacock whose feathers no longer meet the expectation of
a mating ritual.
Slowly. Slower than slowly. Time no longer exists for me,
or for my kill. I skulk, each foot testing its ground before
being planted down. Hips sway low from side to side,
like an exotic dancer. Both of us earning our living.
My heart rips through my own blood, ejaculating it into a
bursting surge. Now is the moment. There will be no other
moment. I lunge, connecting with flesh. Soft flesh. Power pulls my victim
to the ground. I smell the sweet sweet smell of metallic ooze, dripping slowly,
like molasses from a wooden spoon. I hold my kill, turn and drag her away
Her family still graze, unaware of their loss. Unconscious of
my facile victory. Time soon enough to savour their haunted calls
And what of my kill? Picked up like so much road kill. Just another unsolved
homicide to add to my growing file. And what of me? I am once more content
to wait for another sound to grow deep within my soul. For I am Tiger, Hunter.
I am God!
Categories:
unseasoned, murder,
Form:
Free verse
Just imagine
this life
without music
or any desert
without an oasis
or darkness
without light
or a day
without the sun
or food, unseasoned
without salt to taste
or strong black coffee
without cream and sugar
or a garden in spring
without flowers in bloom
or the sky
without the moon and stars
Oh yes, it's true, my darling
It is indeed unthinkable
to be so starved...of your love!
STRAND PICK 3,any theme,any form Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date submitted: 04/06/2020
Anything You Want Poetry Contest(N/A)
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
Date written and submitted: 11/02/2019
Writing Challenge - December - Any Poem Na'd In November 2019 Poetry
Sponsored by: Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode (Winner: 3rd Place)
Submitten on 12/03/2019
Categories:
unseasoned, analogy, love, metaphor, perspective,
Form:
Verse
My love’s as hated as an April snow,
When newborn buds are touched by Winter’s kiss,
A barren stroke which grays all greens that grow,
An unrequited love which springs amiss.
Unseasoned fancies must I put to sleep,
And outward show that which I should not seem,
With silent sighs my split heart’s contents keep,
To unlock life and joy in wondrous dream:
Our love may burnish out the fiery sphere,
Projecting softened light on Dian’s globe,
The tuned sounds may sweet the atmosphere,
The more fool I to dwell in dreaming’s probe.
My spirits oft make oceans out of drams:
To bark and trade my heartstrings but for grams.
Categories:
unseasoned, longing, love,
Form:
Sonnet
09-25-2015
Summered Autumn Winter Bite
Abundant harvest
fall growth cycled lay
gather send a wheeler paid
festive heir praise life
Shortening days
kneads winter forward
home stead deli stock stack flue
baked chopped butchered cords
A shivering morning turns to light snow while unseasoned eyes study the hoar frost web of an architect; built during warmer wet days now slowly legging her icy fingers across an exposed neck the capture sweet with summer yield and autumn fill
Categories:
unseasoned, earth, seasons,
Form:
Pastoral
Add some water
Bring to boil slowly
Condiments will come later
Dolloped desire dropped in
Edibles let her entice
Fresh with filled flavor
Grown lovingly at home
Heartily stirred to cooking
I read the recipe and see
Jelled images of repast
Kindly koshered believers
Larders of lowfat love
Milking a midnight marinade
Nourishing nocturnally
Organic ardoured nutrition
Potluck or purposefully
Quinoa ingrained meal
Recipes of relish
Soul food sweet and sticky
Unseasoned and unwritten
Victuals for vegans
Whole meal and rice
Xanthan gum aside
Yolks and yogurts
Zealously zigzag alphasoup
© Goode Guy 2012-01-26
glue ten free soup
Categories:
unseasoned, fantasy, food, love, passion,
Form:
ABC
~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~
I.
thirsty? BLOOD'S offered
starving? BODY'S given ...dead
last breath for life ... done.
II.
Lift you up when you're down
Overlaid you with blithe when you're in frown
Vex and woe is not in their vocabulary
Everlasting caress and ardour nestled in stationery...
III.
FOOD
for your
life's given
with long-lasting
" LIFE ".
IV.
PARENT'S unconditional fervour is the reason why blood still flows. . .
~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~
===================================
I. haiku
II. acrostic
III. lanterne
IV. monoku
*-* Affection and care of parents are unseasoned...they never get tired of embracing us with their unconditional flow of " LIVING LOVE " .....
" PURE THOUGHTS ON NATURE " contest entry.....
Categories:
unseasoned, death, father, life, love,
Form:
Verse
Epigraph:
When Sailors go to Sea,
and seek distant lands.
As every man Knows,
The Reaper's at Hand.
So, that's how it Goes
and that's how it stands.
When Sailors go to Sea,
And seek Distant lands.
On thirty-foot waves,
Now rides their plight.
The scraps of shorn sails,
By low lantern light.
Most steering Gone,
lost at last sight,
Would the ship founder,
or float through the night?
A tempest Hurricane,
was the battered ships Bane.
all souls' thoughts the same.
Would the shivering Timbers,
Capsize or slip under?
Which Sum would become,
Old Davey Jone's Plunder.
On thirty-foot waves,
Through crest and vale.
The old Salts knew Why,
When the unseasoned Paled.
The Tempest Flailed,
throughout the night.
They pumped and bailed,
for their Mortal Live's.
Then they went on,
in eighty knot flail
No rest or relent.
When the Tempest Assails.
The sinking ship survived,
with All soul's alive.
As the crew rigged Mast's,
Land Ho! A Sailor cried.
Thank God at Last,
Piped the Bo' Sun's blast.
Categories:
unseasoned, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
Senryu Series
~seasonal serpents
slither in unsalted seas…
reasons unseasoned
~serpent, psychosis
permeate unsalted seas…
carnal enmity
~emotion’s ocean
many reasons unseasoned…
thoughts expendable
For and in Honor of Brian Strand
And contest
Categories:
unseasoned, introspection
Form:
Senryu
every existent conceivability
aflush, for you, wise magistrate, disposable.
in comes reason:
out-gums reasonability.
you
are so
full of
delightful spirits of unseasoned giving.
the turkey disrobed
stuffing eagerly
cranberry
(sauce)
you have smeared christmas
on your face because
you rolled the paper ripe for wrapping.
12/13/2018
Categories:
unseasoned, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Sprinkle of grit in the creases of faces terrestrial
Depravity aided by YouTube love advice tutorials
Doll eyes gloss lips curvaceous torso ubiquitous
Entices spiceless meat frozen with unhappiness
Piled minuscule crystals emenate white vibrance
Pull unseasoned cuts to sea salt tumult violence
Dishes missing piquant rub their raw in welcome
Against uptown gusto, ditch wrinkled wearisome
Screen learned psychology reveals men on X- ray
Seduction refined script, - precise final edit essay
Melting snow merges with meat, stinging and yet
Mounts a powder poured alternate animal to zest
6th March 2021
(not for Contest, as didn't stick to syllable rule)
Categories:
unseasoned, angst,
Form:
Couplet