Best Unshod Poems
How chafed the foot bereft of sole,
when unshod thoughts meet splintered floor.
Known terra firma drifts from whole,
as reason loses sight of shore.
I’ll wander where the breeze seems kind;
sweet apple blossom fairies lure.
Away from those who cage the mind,
indulging revelations – pure.
I’ll play the bride in quaint repose,
replete in sagely fettered yearn.
A farm house dowry, heaven chose;
soon I will quell all mused concern.
Old voices join the pipers tune,
a melody once clear – opaque.
Reality lies roughly hewn,
upon this page; my soul awake.
**29 May 2017**
“No matter how low we fall, God holds our hand ~
All’s enabled, if this truth we understand”
~ quote by poet
Both Adam and Eve were tempted
To eat the forbidden fruit
Perhaps their fall could be preempted
If they weren't so resolute
To take the devil's route
Let us together attempt to reconstruct
This metaphorical tale
Why did Adam and Eve self-destruct
Drinking not from the holy grail
Thus their soul growth derail
Eating the apple brought about shame
Of their naked body
Aroused lower mind no doubt to blame
Making them a limited somebody
Entertaining thoughts shoddy
Made in God's image man was complete
Essence of divine light
From head to toe at all times bliss replete
Temptation became the blight
Denuding spherical sight
Male and female being our polarities within
Apple representing animal lust
Negating God's love and light the original sin
Succumbing to ego cravings unjust
Thus doomed to ensoul organic dust
The serpent is our ego; the devil in disguise
Cajoling man to act on his own
Indulging in desires, stifling soul's bliss rise
Head over heart, love dethrone
A dark destiny, we now bemoan
Fortunately, we can reverse the error made
Simply by giving love a nod
We then enter God's heavenly blissful glade
Tip toeing into heart unshod
By His boundless grace overawed
15-February-2023
Writing Challenge -F Words poetry contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
I know of a secret place,
where we may imbibe God’s grace
after giving love our nod,
tiptoeing therein unshod.
Let’s cut to chase, cave of heart,
is where our quest we should start,
invoking bliss magnetism,
to ignite mind-body prism.
First things first, we must be pure,
recognising love’s the cure
to all conflicts in our life;
futile and needless is strife.
If we’re not love enabled,
with narrow fears yet tabled,
knowing not how to behave,
we cannot enter God’s cave.
I know of this secret place,
where we see God face to face;
bliss nectar soul may partake,
once lower mind we forsake.
23-May-2023
This or That, Vol 18 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
A note in the wind is released by our soul,
borne of burning yearning to unite with God,
for entwinement alone will make us feel whole,
so in silence we enter our heart unshod,
feeling therein divine bliss, scriptures extol,
becoming the flame itself, that leaves us awed.
Our unvoiced intent thus released into space,
ignites bliss within, as outpourings of grace.
27-October-2022
(not for contest)
Happy Fathers Day
2015
While forming in my mothers womb
You called me by my name.
In life I went through changes,
Your love remained the same.
There were times I could not know
and times I could not see.
Every thing I meant to You
and all You gave for me.
More faithful than the midnight moon
and all the stars above.
Even in my darkest hours
You gave to me Your love.
Times I did not look Your way.
From You I could not hide.
Though I did not call on You,
You stayed right by my side.
I felt You reaching out to me,
I stumbled and I fell.
You saved from my very self
You rescued me from hell.
And now I see the time has come
no longer in my youth.
Older, somewhat wiser too
I now can see the truth.
You were there just loving me
through storms in life unshod.
Now I'm here just loving You.
Happy Fathers Day! Dear God
Edwin C Hofert
THE PHARAOHS
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
It wasn’t the Pharaohs that ruled the Nile
It was the priests that sanctioned their style
As long as the Pharaoh kept playing ball
The priests insured that he’d never fall
To make him acceptable to poor and unshod
They elevated his position to a living god
Scams have existed for thousands of years
They prey on ones greed and mortal fears
People have been duped by the glib tongue
Like Lenin, Amin, Castro and Mao-Tse-Tung
Cultures are swayed by the gifted speaker
Obscuring the facts from the reality seeker
Elections are stolen with factual distortions
Twisting the truth into diametric contortions
Demagogues and tyrants have little to fear
They just say what the masses want to hear
Independent thought can be a risky proposition
A word in the wrong setting can send you to prison
That kind of oppression can’t happen here
We’re a democracy with nothing to fear
They follow the polls ,the trends are clear
Our leaders will say what we want to hear
Humble yourself in unshod feet
Burning hot sand between the toes
Green palm leaves under bright blue sky
Listen to the story and guard it well
Read the writing in the sand before the tide comes
Judgment power, as lightning before thunder
Tell smiles and hugs instead of your pain and tears
Love will always consist, miracles are shown before
12.04.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
As Winter Flees Giving Spring A Begrudging Nod
As winter flees giving Spring a begrudging nod
So the farmer waits to turn over life giving sod
Mother Nature, bows to Heavenly hand of God
Summer too, waits to embrace racing feet unshod
Young lads dancing forth with live bait and fishing pole
With promise of joy and food from fav fishing hole.
As life in enchanting mysterious ways
Sallies ever onward into those flowing days
So shall winter return to blanket earth with cold
We should give thanks we came from God's Heavenly mold.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-29-2022
Rhyme
Note: 1
When the light has been gifted and the heart wakes to see its power. Joy enters and falls like a blessed Spring shower.
Note: 2
My first in a while. Ablessing was gifted me this day- and that gift birthed this new creation, God works miracles and sees every fallen sparrow.
When the world was quiet
and life moved with grace,
time measured by seasons
and years instead of minutes,
and people saw the world as
close by, with foreign lands
far away, another universe,
not quite real, not quite true--
then the mind could rest,
enjoy the simple pleasures
of family and friends and old
neighbors to share old tales....
Life was taken slowly then,
no faster than a carriage ride,
and evil belonged mainly in
crusty books of ancient times.
There was no rancor, no bile
stirred by relentlessly biting
news that chews at the soul
like the devil's own pitchfork.
There was no magic screen
to capture you slave-like and
bound for barren lands filled
with children starving, babes
dying before they walked, and
War and Disease and Death all
coming through an open door.
Once we trod the earth unshod
and breathed the virgin air and
sang love songs to God in heaven
and saw others as brothers, some
lost, others newly found, all to be
welcome, all to be heard and seen.
Now we see the other as less than,
as missing our noble sweetness--
sure we have found the truth and
those who do not march alongside,
must march against us-- we need
no god to be on our side to know
what must be done for justice....
A poet like Emily could write in
peace though a terrible slaughter
raged far away, its madness slow
to reach her ears, giving her time
to let it sweep her untamed soul.
But she could not breathe today,
her spirit smothered by the loss
of distance and time and mercy.
When the world was quiet
and life moved with grace,
we had a sense of ourselves,
our footing in this world,
our dreams of the next....
Warm leather once danced on happy feet
Now cold and still abandoned by the wall
Lovers strolled along moonlit paths
The pairs now long gone into the past
Children played joyfully in the park
Those shoes are carelessly tossed
Young and old marched to their death unshod
Leaving behind empty soles heaped high
Worshippers at the Mountains of Madness
Worshipers at the Mountains of Madness
zealots seeking kinship of distant god
await the searing wind of cold duress
tattered clothe - torn robe - beggars now unshod
clutch thinning air in folded hands of doubt
beseeching of the peaks the madness there
blind seekers panning gold - veins long run out
follow deep crevasse of lingering fear.
Yet, lost amid frigid glistening peak
resides a hidden truth as yet unthawed
that they must coax the frozen voice to speak
and listen to its truth however flawed.
Cold peaks, those bell-less towers, should incite
rebellion in the eyes awakened sight.
5/17/2016
submitted to – At the Mountains of Madness – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Timothy Hicks
Daybreak
Desert sun, caress this mountain flat.
Rise and warm, push darkness back.
Engage the Earth, embrace it
for your own names sake,
Awaken the shapes and colors
That daybreak creates.
Establish the season
Wind up clock, cut through the mist
and shine on my stock,
From molten ash, to ignited sea
sending un-reined light, running wild and free
stampeding flame, unshod and untamed
spirited illusions from fusion burning so far away
Dappled, green, or splashed fiery red,
Mains of blue flame and hooves of hot led,
Escaping confinement, seeping through, heating the blinds
Encroaching and passing yet evoking nowhere to hide.
But to rid all the world of coldness and dark.
As the fires of spring gleam,
Through open eyes of the heart.
Give us this day, if even the last,
Hold the sorrows of tomorrow
and roll yesterday back
So that when it appears I'll be wed to the sight,
The softest beams of gold and white.
And made as one, in light of day
amongst the lost to light the way.
You see,
All of the above and the shadow of death,
are all wrapped into one.
The Sun, our greatest asset.
For that, I'll be waiting riding high on the plain,
Tipping my hat to the sky,
“It's good to see you again”
~ Harlan’s Holler ~
Dean Kuch
©2014
The locals say, in the light of day
one can visit Harlan’s Holler,
stay on the path
don't incite the wrath
of the man who lost his daughter.
The townsfolk say, to this very day,
you can hear poor Charlotte cryin.'
Beneath silv'ry moon,
where young lovers swoon,
as she lay there, slowly dyin'...
In the August heat, with tiny unshod feet,
Charlotte ventured into the Holler.
She soon lost her way
when the light of day
Gave way to midnights squalor.
Ripe berries sweet for her mom to eat
she'd gone there for the pickin',
her bucket now full,
twirling locks a' crull,
the creeping darkness began to thicken.
She wandered for days, to the towns dismay,
poor little Charlotte could not be found.
Old man Harlan yelled;
damned them all to hell—
then placed a curse upon the ground.
No crops will grow on the ground you sow,
all your livestock will surely die,
you'll toil endlessly,
in the end, you'll be
just the same as my Charlotte lie.
You'll burn in hell, you'll see,
in the end, you'll be
just the same as my Charlotte lie...
The days dragged on under the summer sun
as the child withered to dust.
Fred Harlan died,
Bible at his side,
felled by his curse and vengeful lust.
Down on Harlan's Hill you can hear them still,
mournful sobs by Pa and daughter,
when the moon's just right,
in the dead of night,
stay away from Harlan's Holler.
Lest you tarry there—
'neath the moon, beware,
of the curse of Harlan's Holler...
How chafed the foot bereft of sole,
when unshod thoughts meet splintered floor.
Known terra firma drifts from whole,
as reason loses sight of shore.
03 Mar 2020
First four lines of "Unmoored - God Knows Where I Am" written 29 May 2017. Gregory R. Barden's Rithimus Divisa 2 Poetry Contest
In he whom I endued with life and love
does to one patient in hope bear reward -
a trueborn heir a man can be proud of
and whom well affectioned is well adored.
Follow the pathfinder maps to your soul
and hold fast its moral bearings inward -
trust in seen and unseen, in faith uphold
and in your heart recompense good for good.
Thus be not reckless in your own conceits
but wise to just cause and love’s whispered breath -
walk safely in the world in all your feats
lest it suffer me and quicken my death.
Make your way like him ragged and unshod
and bend your knee unto no one but God.
Written: March 2009