Best Unsophisticated Poems
FAN-TASTIC
The fan spins on the ceiling,
Like a robin’s wings, it flutters.
Casting soft, spinning shadows
On white, wood-window shutters.
Does it know, how lovely it is?
The calico cat enjoys its coolness.
The dainty pull-chains nod...yes!
As the fresh cool air, it happily pushes.
A fan, so greatly unappreciated.
Yet it serves us day and night.
It just does its job, with all its might.
Just a fan~~simple, unsophisticated!
6-16-2022
~2~
Long, long ago and longer
When I was but a child
I read of Doctor Livingstone
Who ventured in the wild.
Dr. David had no fear
He went where few had gone.
This missionary and explorer
To Africa was drawn.
The unsophisticated natives
Didn’t know the wealth they had
Allowed Livingstone to name their falls
When he shouted out “Egad.
I’ve found what no white man has seen
I name it ‘Victoria Falls’”.
When back in England he was touted.
But lack of adventure palls.
He was sent back to Africa
To find source of the Nile.
He traveled around that continent
And became lost for a while.
Henry Morton Stanley when he found him, said
“Mr Livingstone I presume?”
He died in the heart of Africa.
Westminster Abbey holds his tomb.
A party of toffs all so snotty
was crashed by a yokel so naughty.
After passing much gas,
this guy with no class
took a dump left unflushed in the potty.
(for those who may not know: Toff is a person of high-class society
a Yokel is an uneducated, unsophisticated person from the countryside.)
The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation
The Not-So Distant Past:
The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.
They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.
Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,
and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.
The Present:
19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,
a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.
I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,
our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.
Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,
babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,
yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,
needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,
for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.
Sixty-Six years ago today a very naïve farm-boy left the Hoosier farm,
To seek adventure beyond the horizon since farming had lost its charm.
He enlisted in the Air Force, a knight in blue to keep the nation free.
My gosh! Come to think about it, that unsophisticated lad was me!
Since I was only seventeen, I had to get my reluctant Ma to sign for me.
She came from a Quaker background and abhorred all strife, you see.
Pa was ambivalent about the matter - just one less mouth to feed, said he.
I marched off to face the future, another warrior for our family tree!
Harassment began once I arrived at the inhospitable induction station.
Docs had me bend over, then stand, turn my head and cough for observation.
They probed and prodded and stuck needles in my arms for inoculation.
Oh! The abject misery and humiliation of it all just to serve my nation!
Next came the swearing-in where I vowed to uphold the Constitution.
A fiendish sarge then assumed command and began his nasty persecution.
"Fergit yer Mom, Dad and Maggie Mae" said he, "Yer butt belongs to me!"
Just hours on duty and I was homesick for the farm, pining to be free!
They put me on a choo-choo to Lackland AFB, Texas, for my basic training.
I was shorn of all hair - by now my enthusiasm and patriotism was waning.
Ah! But when I donned that Air Force suit of blue, I stood proud and tall!
If my pals behind a plow and mule could see me now! I was having a ball!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
That naïve farm boy went on to serve 30 years in the Air Force, retiring
1 August 1978.
An unsophisticated feller attending an auction could find himself in a pickle!
The nuances, subtleties and gestures used in bidding could cost him a pretty nickel!
A city feller decided to attend a farm auction to see what it was all about.
Alas, he accumulated a heap of needless stuff before he could figure it out!
He was fascinated by the tractor, manure spreader, horses, hogs and cows,
And the chickens, goats, manure forks and hay to be auctioned in the mows!
The auctioneer began his alien spiel and the feller couldn't understand a word,
But farmers in overalls and John Deere caps knew exactly what they heard!
Bidding began on an old steel-wheeled 1925 Model D over-used John Deere.
The feller watched others offer their bids as he reached to scratch his ear.
The auctioneer yelled, "SOLD to the man scratchin' his ear over by the fence!"
He was the stunned owner of a tractor - it happened so fast he didn't have a chance!
Next up for bid were a fancy chamber pot, two horse collars and fifty feet of hose.
The feller in all innocence swatted at a pesky fly that had landed on his nose!
The auctioneer yelled, "SOLD to the guy who swatted his nose for fifty dollars!
Son, you got a steal! That's an antique thunder mug and so is them there collars!"
The auctioneer opened bidding for twenty bales of newly cut alfalfa hay.
The feller was distracted for a moment and waved at a pal across the way.
"SOLD" said the auctioneer, "Please write a check for this stuff to my able aide!"
The hapless guy was wondering how he'd explain to his spouse the purchases he'd made!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
HUMANS!
Why are you always spying on me? It's not my fault I live in a glass house.
Sorry. Please forgive my very UNsophisticated self for such a rude opening statement, but you startled me when you tapped on my window. That scared the beejeebees outta' me. Why do you do that?
My name is Sophi...last name Sticate. Yeah, yeah, I know. That's a cruel twist of fate, but I didn't choose my own name. I ask you, how can a fish be sophisticated when I pee in my own pool and leave a trail of poop hanging out of my butt?
Some kid throws my food at me every day, so it's no wonder I haven't developed manners. His Mom says I stink, but if she'd change my water every once in a while, maybe she'd stop holding her nose when she comes near. I even heard her threaten to flush me down the potty!
You want a sophisticated fish? Surely you jest.
NOT for any contest
Die Lorelei by Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)- Translated by T. Wignesan
For Regina von Degenfeld at Waibstadt
-in respect and unending sufferance-
(Heine, a German Jewish lyrical and satiric poet, journalist and critic,
settled in Paris from 1831 where he married Eugénie Mirat, an unsophisticated shop-assistant which earned him ostracism and dispossession from his family and fellows, but he made her his only heir on the condition that she re-married so that at least one person would regret his passing. In 1858, he was hobbled for life by spinal paralysis.)
Ich weiss nicht , was soll es bedeuten,
Nonplussed am I, what could it signify
Dass ich so traurig bin;
Plunged as I am in such a dejected mood
Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
A fairy tale from times gone by,
Dass kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.
In thraldom wrapped forever to brood
Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt,
Soft the cool wind buffets as the day beds down
Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein;
And ripple free courses the Rhein
Der Gïpfel des Berges funkelt
Mountain summit lights scintillate crown
Im Abendsonnenschein.
Divine in sunset shine
Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet
Exquisite maiden perched is she
Dort oben wunderbar,
On high there resplendent
Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,
Her golden accoutrements sparkle free
Sie kämmt ihr goldnes Haar.
As golden tresses combs she concupiscente
Sie kämmt es mit goldnem Kamme,
Flaxen tresses combs she with a golden comb
Und singt ein Lied dabei;
While luring strains her lips release in lyrical glee
Das hat eine wundersame,
Tinged in a soothing tuneful hum
Gewaltige Melodie.
Mighty stirring melody
Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe
The rower in his narrow boat
Ergreift es mit wildem Weh;
Seized is he with bewildering pain
Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe,
Oblivious is he of the Rock’s craggy grotte
Erschaut nur hinauf in die Höh’.
His eyes remain fixed high above the narrow main
Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
I believe the waves did submerge
Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn;
In the end both boatman and rowing boat
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
And the deed did with her singing merge
Die Lorelei getan.
That Lorelei had wrought.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, January 23, 2021
Albert Einstein
His teachers thought his abilities limited,
But his genius went down in history,
And his brain, after death, was exhibited.
Albert Einstein
Born: March 14,1879
Died: April 17,1955
Einstein died of an aortic aneurism at the age of 76 and the pathologist removed his brain to study it and find out what made him so intelligent.
His peers said he was a man with a child like quality that made him totally unsophisticated and without worldliness.
For Battle of the Clerihews by PD
Fuelling a need
that lay dormant
her intro into the world of sex
was rough and
unsophisticated
her first time fairy tale
turned into a nightmare
it was nothing
compared to the books she's read
that stranger scarred her
made her look for sex instead of love
blinded by a supposed search of her fairytale
all the men she attracted
somehow fell short
after their first encounter
without them being aware
they were weighed
and found wanting
deep down, she could not understand
that the contentment she chased
were somehow getting lost in between the sheets
every time she felt a little worse
and yet she continued
in that cycle
because it’s the only thing she knew
even though
that was never part of her destiny
*inspired by a close friend’s suggestion.
Not a personal write but someone out there might be fighting this demon*
14092012
It amazes me that she came to mind after some 50 years.
She lived far back across the fields, alone with not a care.
She was laughed at and talked about; some were afraid of her.
No one was ever harmed by her, and everyone stayed out of her way.
Even when they avoided her, it was difficult to escape the sound of her voice.
Up close or across the fields, we heard her so clearly and sincerely crying, “Holy!”
She was not sociable, and perhaps even a bit eccentric. Though religious, she was not a Mother Teresa. I do not remember a smile she gave to anybody for any reason. Was she out of her mind as some suggested? Was she a voice crying in the wilderness? Was she on a divine assignment from God? Was she a saint or holy person? I most assuredly did not know then, and I am presently content to let God be the judge of that. But she had no doubt about her God being Holy, because, with unrelenting commitment, she cried, “Holy!”
It’s clear to me that God had become the center of her every affection. Indeed, she deemed it her mission to proclaim the Holiness of God to a needy people. So without refrain, fear, or hesitation, she simply continued to shout, “Holy!”
She was unconventional, unsophisticated, unconcerned, and unlike anyone I have ever known. She cared not what people said, thought, or felt about her. She was fearless, and nothing mattered except her mission. She was called 'the sanctified lady’; but time after time, come rain or come shine, she paid us no mind, and she never ceased or declined. She just cried, “Holy!”
I never knew whatever became of her, but she was a small framed lady with a strong and deep sounding voice. It’s the cry of her voice that brings my eyes to tears. Without apology or regard for public opinion, from her home deep across the corn and cotton fields, we often heard her crying, “Holy!”
I don’t recall anything else she ever said or did. But I will say that if she was on a divine assignment, God must have been pleased with her. I suspect that it was a lonely and often cruel assignment, causing much pain and ridicule. But she bore the pain; she had nothing to gain; her message was clear and plain; she refused to refrain. She certainly was not popular, and I don’t remember a friend she ever had. But ever true to her task, from the depths of her soul, she cried, “Holy!”
My voice it speaks weakly but my heart is strong
Her voice is tender platinum pure shy and abandoned
She sings like an angel
She has that strong quality of something that cannot be taught
that is unsophisticated and girlishly innocent
free pure and clean
Athletes jog on Victory Field,
I join them to test my endurance,
but underneath the bleachers kids smoke weed;
are these the bright young men of our future,
who will be the backbone of our Nation?
Drivers converse on cell phone,
paying no attention on the road,
the traffic light suddenly turns red,
a crush occurs, many people are hurt;
a life will be lost for an unnecessary call.
Prices rise drastically,
but the salary remains the same,
folks struggle to buy food,
many go to bed hungry;
why is there such a disparity?
Faithful are deserting churches;
is faith dawning or pedophiles is the factor?
Pope Benedict XVI pleads vehemently;
why become priest, if one is pervert,
and be condemned by God, the Omnipotent?
Children are raised by a gay couple,
two males or females, trying to be
fathers and mothers without having morals,
why have they allowed this in our age...
when the bad influence will affect their brains?
Smoking cigarettes causes many diseases,
people die by the thousands in cramped hospital rooms,
don't they know or read the warnings before inhaling?
They think it's cool for them, not for the unsophisticated,
and without guilt they drag others to an excruciating death.
Wake up, society and clean up your act;
if abusing your body is made by choice,
what about giving up all these bad habits that are extremely harmful,
and spare yourself a lot of useless suffering, and what's the glory in dying?
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
"The ways in which we apply these [empathic] abilities
to controlling the excesses of growth and expansion
[by nurturing multicultural synergetic balance]
over the next century
will be the greatest test
of our evolutionary [democratic Win/Win]
sophistication." D Holmgren, Permaculture, p. 73
Sophistication is not
jingoism
nor tokenism
nor nationalism
nor sexism.
Democratic evolutionary sophistication
requires developing holistic integrity,
invites and nurtures polypathic
health of interdependent pleasure
and wealth of intersectoral compassion.
Until our League of Women Voters
becomes a Legion of EcoFeminist Speakers and Listeners,
leaders and co-operative
co-invested followers.
Until our democratic national party
becomes an everyday
InterNational InterDependent PolyCultural Health Party.
Until our republican nationalistic party
becomes a cooperatively-managed
EcoTherapeutic Wealth Development Project.
Until each educational and religious system
becomes a polyamorous paradise
for mentoring Restorative Peace,
a remedial safe space
for battered and neglected
abused and exploited
miseducated and disempowered
Republican girls and women.
Until each Town Meeting
becomes a bipartisan win/win part
of EarthMother's CoPassionate Discernment Network.
Until each political campaign
becomes a NonViolent Communication progression
reinforcing our EcoPolitical CoOperative Health Trust
of and for Earth's Peace Wealth.
Until Type A caste supremacist planning
to extend competing Win v Lose Yang
reweaves equivalently
with processing Type B
nurturing Win/Win
caste-abolishing Yin.
Until Left deductive dominance
panentheistically religions again
with Right inductive
mind-passion/body-pleasure.
Until masculine strength with endurance
also means feminist flow with nurturance
through mutual Left/Right bicameral
cooperativity.
Until day
becomes not so much nightmare.
Until "unsophisticated women"
becomes an oxymoron,
a population of zero,
empty vacuous imaaginary population
now singing more resonant harmonies
dancing more resilient memories.
.Inspired From Sapper French's Diary from April 23. 1916
"Come On Over Fritz"
Rain like a shower down my back off a thin wooden lath
It’s cold and miserable unlike a welcome hot bath
Air so bad we cannot breathe, today don’t feel like taking this path.
Gas bombs are falling a thick yellow cloud rolls our way.
Pray God the wind catches and sends it astray.
Thank God no gas lungs for us today…
We used the same trick as miners with a canary bird to test for gas
But we caged a mouse instead, if it died we would not pass
We got sick, but the mouse survived, oh telling us; what an ass.
Got a cut upon my leg, the doctor says it’s septic
What a relief a hospital bed, lots of company, analeptic
I though this war was right, now I’m a sceptic.
Back in the field scores of bodies lying dead
Personalities cut down, stuck in the mud ahead
Blood bath, bodies everywhere we tread.
Walking in water up to our knees without ease
Found water cress, so good with bread and cheese.
A little comfort, although not much sitting in this bise.
It’s strange something simple like finding water cress
Can give us an unsophisticated pleasure in this gory mess
Eating and drinking, amidst body parts - no less.
But we had to do what we could for every inch we could gain
How the mighty fall, the Germans came to our trench of mud and rain
With grenades, daggers and bayonets – most stayed, face down; slain.
A huge German solider was patched up by our lads
An older man with a scratch; reminded us of our dads
It’s remarkable we fight and kill, yet still mend these cads.
August the tenth a strange day, a German stuck his head over the barbette
One of our boys called out “Come on over fritz” as if he did it for a bet
Fritz relied in perfect English “no blooming fear” happy to have met.
After the respite of banter back and forth
New orders went out to be followed henceforth
Anyone talking to the enemy would be arrested thenceforth.
Entered into Mark Toney's
Poetry Marathon mile 7 contest