Best Unspun Poems
...so as the universe expands
I’m left at its existence end
Uncertain of my place in it
To keep aspiring in spite...
Appeasing it in a father figure
The sun - the lit end of a cigar
Feeling like an abandoned child
I let my imagination go wild...
I write with powerful imagery
Something like atomic energy
Self-assurance that my life does matter
Hoping that someday it’ll read my letters
I’m wondering where and when it all begun
When or if it’ll all ever get unspun
So with pen and paper I give it a face
In the silence of the vacuum of space
08-13-2015
For Contest:
John lawless's DON'T FIGHT IT.....WRITE IT!!
I sit and watch you everyday
From a bookshelf where I will stay
Not quite like new, patched with a swatch
You everyday, I sit and watch
You used to hold me so much more
When I was softer, not yet tore
I'll wait right here for you to see
So much more, you used to hold me
Once a loved one, now a keepsake
Loyal love does a true friend make
I hope no more yarns come unspun
Now a keepsake, once a loved one
I'm always here to watch you grow
If you need me, in high or low
Don't forget me, I'm always near
To watch you grow, im always here
(Swap quatrain)
Where Are You
I stand upon a precipice
Where once a battle raged
Between just two... the rest of us
Still searches...unassuaged...
So many questions torment me
(I should or should not done)
A constant torch of agony
Forbears a love unspun...
Still nothing fills this empty space
Where promises once were
You vanished! Gone! Without a trace!
In echoes...now you stir...
Faint silhouettes lost in the dark...
Hope's murmurings decried...
This longing bleeds without a mark
Or traces...since you died.
2.1.2017©deborah burch
Quatrain
Mildred fled when Joe asked her if she
would let him see 'below' for a fee.
As she shot to a run
though, thread caught and unspun...
So instead, Joe got showed it for free!
We were visiting good old Niagara Falls, the most beautiful place on earth. With its waterfall cadences and fresh lit sun, who could ask for anything more. Hand in hand we strolled together wearing summer sandals light as air. We talked and spoke of days to come, how we'd make a family together some day.
Lovers in love
two linen gloves
fitted just right
There were acrobats, jugglers on tightropes, and children rippling the air with their tinkling laughter. Together we aimed at little yellow ducks and won the grand prize. Hugging Mrs. Jewel Bug, we walked away kissing beneath a bluest sky dappled with cotton candy clouds and morning sighs. Since we stayed longer than expected, we stopped by a little Cafe and drank frothy cappuccinos to our hearts content.
full-fledged memories
golden colored hours
days gone by
Those were the days of impulsive escapades, endless surprises and pleasant up-comings. Moments of mindlessness existence in a lifetime yet to be unspun. Today the mortgage is paid and the children left home. My favorite juggler is in heaven waiting for an old tattered Jewel bear and a swollen gal with a heart pliable as ghee. I smile at the thought that one day I will join him. We'll drink foamy coffees and watch the trapeze artists spin, swing and fly. They will hang off ropes made of stars and moonbeams, just like us.
Spanish bells to break the sun
a million diamonds come unspun
spiral plumes to yearning earth
holding it's mouth agape
Albeniz in fingerprints
plucking strings in quick descent
brings to mind the toreador
to Dali hallucinate
Catch the sun drops in your hand
with the rhythm in demand
We are chords to strike and sing
a melody delicious
Feel the swell and taste the air
filled with Spanish savoire fare
Dance under the diamond rain
gaping mouth in heaven.
Like an avian roosting when his cawing has spilled,
I mourn in grief as this shadowed night grows cold
Crushed and grieving from promises unfulfilled
Sorrow burgeons my heart, in bitterness enfold
like unspun wool on a distaff or a poem not quilled
I am overwhelmed with fear; somberly weeping
beneath my rowan tree. In dour thoughts, I dwell
Wisps of silver moonlight cross the sky, sweeping,
signaling hope in darkness, as if it were a death knell
In my den, I feel protected; sanctuary of safe-keeping
My troubled eyes are in search of benevolence anew
For faith and courage instead of such dismal dread
How I long to take flight, trading grey skies for blue
to locate a paradise where happiness can be spread
sharing a drink of wassail; fruited ale of sweet brew
I shall swiftly soar among shining stars at great height
Fluttering my wings on journeyed path of poetic volition
Never again to be lost and alone on any mawkish night
No shadows holding me in their melancholy perdition
for I've learned how to ignite flames of lambent light
So calm
my mom
my nose
a rose
I shed
blood red
nose bleed
I plead
cryin’
dyin’
instead
she said
you picked
he kicked
you’ll live
just give
the horse
his course
a fall
is all
don’t come
unspun
what’s done
is done
tale spun
my son
Drenched in dark mold state sponsored hypnosis
I dig far beneath the earth
Crawling through the virgin tight intestinal sewers few have thought or dared traverse
Seeking that final escape into...
Into what?
ANYTHING unspun from the artificial reality generating parasitic construct of that which we call I
I crave simply, only, total transformation
But there is a fatal poisoned kiss working its way through the veins of all planetary systems of control
And i can see myself wide eyed half crazed playing constant games of chicken with existences projections of a core heartbeat named OBLIVION
Gone are the days of all desperate narrative conjuration
All those dumpster bin beliefs that twisted the body and warped the mind incinerating completely all CREATIONS maps
Dancing to those chaotic tunes disintegrating all dream, and all the shrieking nightmares fornicating inbetween
No longer wanting with nothing to need
No hope
No fear
Exhileration of setting to fire all those costumes to stand naked upon that original stage
Just new birth wonder
And an awestruck smile
Ready and willing to be struck down by a sacred storm of swords
Let my blood pour forth to feed the earth
And may my seed remain always free
Thriving
Uncursed by my afflictions
I lay in my bed.
Thoughts come in waves.
When will it end?
The Dragon slain.
No amount of time.
No person, no thing.
Can change the fate,
That the needle brings.
Sights of Orange,
Delight my eyes.
I pick up a crystal,
And to no surprise.
I crush it down.
In that damn orange cup.
I’m so overwhelmed.
The sinking feeling abrupt.
I carefully decide,
The amount to pour.
Then mix it with water.
And dissolve once more.
I take off the cap,
To reveal the shine.
Of that needle so enticing.
That it blows my mind.
I feel so small.
As I stare at that point.
My body quivers.
I can’t disappoint.
Thoughts of guilt.
Invade my brain.
But my body keeps saying,
This will soon end the pain.
So I draw the solution,
Into the stem.
Then flick it twice.
Let the bubbles settle in.
I slowly push the air out.
That’s collected on top.
And wonder to myself,
If I will ever stop.
But I shrug it away.
And again think of pain.
Then tie on my tourniquet.
And say “ it” again.
The veins start to pop.
And spread on my skin.
They bulge and prod,
And trickle within.
Sometimes this takes hours.
Sometimes days of my life.
I get so frustrated.
But search on with strife.
I stab myself over and over again.
Until the blood flows red into my syringe.
Seeing the blood,
Makes my whole body weak.
But I surrender with ease.
No more words can I speak.
I push the plunger forward,
Till she entires my veins.
Down to the last drop.
Empty and insane.
I wait just a second.
Pull the needle out.
My body turns to fire.
This is what it’s all about.
From my toes to my head,
Her venom spreads.
Ecstasy at last.
No more feelings of dread.
Then the fire fades,
Just as quickly as it came.
And then there’s just calm.
A final break from the shame.
I’ve given my life to this process,
So many times.
The bigger the shot.
The bigger the crimes.
When I’m in this state,
The dragon has one.
My mind and my heart,
Become unspun.
I do terrible things,
To all of my friends.
My family, my children.
But she always wins.
I always think I can only do one.
But that’s never the case.
The cycles just begun.
“The devils tool” I’ve heard it said.
Takes every ounce of life.
And leaves you for dead.
But you rise up and start
The process once more.
A zombie. Tortured chaos.
I don’t know anymore.
A tapestry lay in an ancient sun,
Basking neath a ventrous day yet unspun,
Colorful hues of ocher and saffron,
Draws aqueous fumes that moist production,
Every eye, blossom, unhatched egg, greet, opens,
Fortuitous bounty spreads emotions,
Gathered, skins, feathers, and scales, 'bout all strewn,
Harken a flightless prayerful dove a tune,
Invocates breaths to cite a liturgy,
Jolts loose a cloak of boundless energy,
Kingpin meanders its righteous release,
Lifts a poised sky veiled like an altar piece,
Mirrored echoes o'er a restless domain,
Naked beings wild, nay wear traps of vain,
Oaths show side-by-side, generating warmths,
Pleasant touch between life, light and air, calms,
Qat leaves pools a creeks hold, stirs brew a tea,
Raven espies to hover, pecks a spree,
Symmetry fulfills in a baseless realm,
Tenacious wanton rhapsody days' whelm,
Universe descendants be a joint trust,
Vast spectered spectrums spirals to adjust,
Webbed stars a new sky, quietude abound,
Xenon fades into a nulled swarty crowned,
Yielding yawns, surrenders lids to be froze,
Zzz's orchestrates descents towards a lulled doze.
Date: 06/01/2019
I treat love as a rare art, a bold banner fluttering in the wind,
Only those who have fallen off the map of the world, the barefoot kings of the sky, are worthy,
Weavers of warm words, who weave webs of dreams and pure hopes,
Where girls come to immerse themselves in the boundless spring of poetry.
Then they discover the secret thrill, the bud that gently opens to the light,
And let the unspun thread find its destiny in the world like a liberated river,
To these dreamer kings, exiled from concrete kingdoms into freedom,
Only the poet's path was destined, dancing on the edges of the universe.
They walk on the branches of the stars, building bridges between chasms and unseen abysses,
Without courts or castles, only with a heart like a palace of thoughts and longings,
And there's no way to gather them, for they are the wind, the rain, and the song of the night,
They are the nomadic kings of dreams, eternal wanderers on the hidden map of the soul.
They travel through galaxies of words, in search of pure and luminous truth,
With eyes toward horizons where the sky and earth kiss in deep secrecy,
Each of their steps leaves behind echoes of light, falling stars in the night,
In a world that cannot contain them, but owes them the magic of existence.
Autumn is the fall from life
Winter is the death of life
Spring the resurrection
Summer is the life
In the auburn autumn there can be not
Denial.
Of passionate reactions
If it were not for the love of lust
What would become of us
Who could exist
What does influence our
Zest for life
What inflames our best of life
How will we be in the rest of life
In the auburn autumn there can be
No race for life left Unrun
No lace in life left unspun
No place no craze no pace
No phase left to live
Auburn autumn has begun
The clouds look like cotton balls,
Unspun cotton candy.
Oh! How I sing the song of sweet victory.
Horizon finds its resting place in the abyss
The distance creates a feeling of uncertainty
Why is the light so far away?
As the sun fades away into nothing fear emerges,
Yet I find comfort in this place between certainty and uncertainty
Strange I take full responsibility for a sudden emergence of excitement
She feels a warmth spreading throughout the miles of vessels in her heart
An occurrence that rarely makes itself known-like a shy child choosing a parent for protection from the horrors of the outside world
I think this aerial view of the world puts me on top because I cannot see what everyone else is seeing
everything below;
Such a general term… everything
I think it is safe to say that up here I have finally escaped
I do not have any feelings of angst or worry
No one to insult my sensitive interior by way of my physical appearance and flaws
It could be that I am closer to God as cliche as that may sound
She has not seen him since he whispered to her the devil of anxiety would consume her soon if the angles were not called upon
All I can see is a sea of blackness with one yellow light illuminating from the ground
That light is me
Kindness and heart lies in that light
Light of mine
Will only flicker in times of despair only until I see him again
-Katherine Beth
Another Saturday of middle men gathers, save one, be another weekend passes, mumbling about, till I spoke out, forgive me, this be the truth of it.
'Tis but a few words, that I lent to friends ears, a course set to change,
for heard they, of a raw web unspun, perchance 'tis innocence had a part of it.
Furthered loan lobes, of fate's mired pace, that weld's their chest so tight,
it held the breadth of them, a chance to swim in its currents of a tenuous life.
A friend astrayed, from our prearranged meets of jovial matter, 'tis cavorting,
leads to a quietude, a disturbing view of jaws, 'twas given a shot of novocaine.
Reveal I to them, of a sacred trust, known only to me, and now our friends,
as a harp strums an unsung tune, strands of arrows tender points, prepares.
A test on a piece of paper, whose strength enough to shred an unstable heart,
and bring a man of untold years, of the worth that remains--a small sum it be.
No tear was spared on a solid face, that offers free slides of it, to yon floor,
pooling whispers of ancient values that will spirit a hospital room's brief use.
Sounds of car doors, engine revs, as the voice of gps's unattainable reach,
of heartbeat's ascent,'tis be a final race, rally they must, for the one of them.
A room of jovialness spreads, cavorting returns to normalcy, dry eyes rounds,
yet I see the truth of it, for they drown in tear-filled dams of fortuitous eyelids, all.
*October of last year, its earlier half, my colonoscopy test result reveals one polyp, and during the interim of its results, our friend passes away. A day before the funeral, a prerecorded message states it was benign. All of us had ourselves checked out. I suppose, my words suffices a small tribute to his memory, yet, he's not being forgotten by his friends for the many Saturday's that has passed. *This is for you buddy.
Date: 05/30/2019
**Re-edited**Date: 06/01/2019