Best Unstained Poems
I emerged / born with a silver pen in hand
…and a tempest raging within.
Words writhe, a serpent's coil
…tightening their grip
A soul adrift in a sea of
…self-made iniquity.
I buried my daddy
…in the black shoe
…by the Yew tree
Yes, I, the beekeeper’s daughter
…bearing the weight of hexagonal cells
A hive of memories
…buzzing with secrets.
The bell jar shattered
….a fractured hive.
Its glass walls no longer a prison
…but a shattered cocoon
……a metamorphous!
Pain and disdain drip like honey
…a bittersweet nectar of survival.
He, a poet
…crowned in the harsh light of fame
Bound in chains of duty and shame
His words
…a romance of lure and alarm.
Echoing the sirens' song
…enticing and harmful.
Yet, his tongue
…a viper’s forked lie.
Whispers truths and half-truths
…conjuring illusions to die.
Wandering the maze of being
A little fugue of
…fractured fairytales.
Each note a fleeting glimpse of clarity
Lost in the discordant
…cacophony of life's emptiness.
Like my "Little Fugue" a dance of shadows
A journey through the corridors of the mind
Seeking answers in the interplay of light and dark
Striving for harmony amidst the chaos
Parchment of blood and ink I leave
A riddle of life and death's plea
Maniacal madness with visions slight
A macabre dance upon the night.
Ariel, brings lightning and fire!
With heavy heart
…I sealed my children's room.
Softly kissed them farewell
……Extinguishing the final flame within.
Enveloped in oblivion's velvet veil
………Yielding to the oven’s cold caress.
…………No, more morning songs...
Inscribed a cryptic goodbye
Breathed in the silent slayer.
For, I Lady Lazarus
…Dying is an art
……Faded into the ether…
Her blacks crackle and drag, a fire of new birth
Flames licking at the borders of life
Consumed by oblivion's greedy blaze
Lost in the vast cosmic ray.
The embers die
…a fleeting spark gone
No masterpiece
…….just dust reclaimed
A silent echo in the void unstained.
A mystery lost
………never quite explained.
Yet, God's Lioness
...Fierce and Untamed
Roaring her defiance
…Covered in darkness…
----
Underneath the star-strewn skies
A fleeting passing note.
Lost in the vast expanse
Living on the edge
For, I am but a speck of dust.
The old year hobbles out - his path an aftermath of blunders.
Glowingly expectant, the new year readies for a grand entrance -
wearing nothing but fresh unstained diapers of naiveté.
For the Sijo Poetry Contest of Rick Parise
I wove a garland of flowers
A garland full of love
Beautiful stars fallen on the green carpet
I collected and wove
The dew drunk red rose amongst
The daisies so white
The heady jasmine round them
I wove into a ring
The tiny blue bells danced around
The lily’s unstained beauty
Yellow wild flowers peeped from under
The vibrant petals of marigold
Then into this ring I wove
My love and desires
And held it against my heart
For him when he’d come near
By-Tahera Mannan
Contest- Flowers
Sponsored by- Francine Roberts
The beauteous moon lustres amongst glowing
celestial fires in the vault of heaven.
Shining for you.
You with your gifted ink flowing
on a white abyss, your thoughts pure and unstained.
Painterly with colours of the heart that
bears witness to the sweetest kingdom,
for whom romance lyrically waltzes with grace
serenaded by a honeyed euphony
perchance seeking a kindred soul.
Penned sonnets of true love journey
forth on angels wings that
sprinkle stardust in her eyes
melting into tears of innocent yearnings.
Soft whisperings caress her
cheek with your sweet invisible breath.
Words prompt forgotten dreams now
undisguised. Losing herself to her muse who's
passion for prose enraptures her being.
Her gratitude flooding for such resplendent verse.
in an
angst- saturated
moment i find you there in
my travel bag, injured by the neglect of
a poorly screwed-on sparkling water bottle cap:
my beloved poetry notebook of fifteen years. You are
now one-third soaked and stained at the top. I shudder to
think of throwing you away or burying you in the cemetery of
old college diaries and love letters. You were my faithful collector of
anxiety and pleasure, cleverness and drought, loneliness and victory;
oftentimes tucked away for months at a time as creative energies were
diverted to other outlets. Like a loyal dog whose master travels away, you
never gave up on me. How many times the tears stained your inky pages
long before I even knew that sparkling water was a thing! When friends
moved away, or betrayed me (how i wished THEY would move away), when loved ones died too young, or old ones lived too long (how they wished THEY could die instead), when my son was slaying dragons and my daughter was breaking up with an inattentive boyfriend; when my wife struggled with her sisters, or when I agonized through physical therapy or cancer surgery, you were patiently there for me. Even as my joints and stitches eventually healed, you continue to be my invaluable companion, both for my history you contain to the left, and for the blank, hope-filled pages to the right. Like me, you are aging, stained, lumpy, scarred, but two-thirds useful as i write under the stain.
///NOTE: the shape above roughly mirrors the unstained portion of my notebook, which I will continue to use in its deformed and lumpy new state!
Also, no poems were harmed in the making of this poem. I write in pencil, so the water didn't render any previous pages unreadable, thankfully!///
There's a tiny monster gliding in the air
Whoever you are, it shows no spare
Swiftly quaffing the earth's unstained blood,
it resolved to bury a raft of bodies under the pleading mud.
Missiles are aimed at an eclipsed enemy
Trying to discover home in this endless journey
Warriors are rifled with
rigour
Not caring for a cut or a blister.
School drums went dumb
Town fairs said no welcome
Smiles and lives are masked
Tears and fears are hiked.
A son was buried while his mother quarantined
A husband died miles away leaving his wife estranged
The empty stadiums engulfed the players' sky-high spirits
Innocent lives are turning to dust every few minutes.
It's transient my child! It's all transient.
Short-lived are these strong winds
Ephemeral are these hot waves
Cry not in the dark night
Smiles re-bloom upon winning this fight.
Every bud blooms after the rain as a norm
It's time to be an eagle and rise above the storm
I read the burn to hand-feed
the dark with pills of pleasure ~
twilight entombed
within troubled walls,
swollen and sore,
throbbing with ache,
an insatiable appetite
to relish the realism
of your silhouette of sapience,
a breathing poem
with metaphors in motion,
meticulously merged
with the musk of euphoric musings…
O bronco wild, white force,
the bona fide heat
heaving in bedazzled breeze
around the fragile fingers
of my unclothed heart.
Walk me out of the devious
doors of demented dreams;
free-flow me to a realm
of quenching quiescence,
where condemnatory pupils
do not imprison
the tongue that savors
the flavor of foreverness,
with everlasting vapors
of pulsing peridots
staining these panopticon lips,
sealed with softly sewn secrets.
Serve me your sanguine silk…
They do not sympathize
with the bleeding thorns
painfully wanting ~
sleeplessly yearning
to trace the honest waves,
catalyzing the spark
awaiting escape,
away from the cross-eyed fables
fabricating the fragrance
of my zealous love ~
your rose lady,
restless to bloom as one,
rooted to the runes written
across your ambidextrous armor.
I am tattered and torn,
stuck in a scrutinized cycle,
yet still I refuse
to let these petals wilt.
I let my thoughts wander
to the waking wilderness,
where gypsy blossoms
caress and nurture
the penetrating luster
of pearl-light sepals,
resembling my damask spirit,
unstained by the sepulchral ashes ~
dust-laden, kohl-corpse chains
of faithless society,
of blood serpents
masking malevolence,
pretending to be well-wishers…
I care not for their callous clamors,
cruelty caved
in charismatic lies,
deciphering my virtuous dawn
as dangerous delirium;
so take me away ~
to flawless fields
bathed in orange topaz skies…
~ I am yours to worship,
your masterpiece of paradise ~
***Inspired by the artwork; The Lady Rose, by Paul Delvaux
Vibrant blissful presence, empathetic
Eager to serve whoever comes his way
Pure hollowed out form, always ecstatic
To the rhythm divine, in stillness sways
Spontaneous love bewilders ego
Throb of bliss brooks no thought interference
Flowing in gentleness sweet and mellow
Bubbling with joyous childlike innocence
As a humble conduit of the divine
Ceasing grasping, shifting to connecting
Content with benedictions God assigns
Aglow in bliss self-illuminating
His earth life unfolds in as is ordained
Persona nonchalant, pure and unstained
20-March-2021
this form is dust yet moves as though it’s alive
propelled by God’s breath, divine spark in our heart
too subtle to find so it’s useless to strive
unless we’re still causing ego to depart
and melding head with heart, flame of love revive
prayer on our lips being the way to start
with resolve and patience finding soul’s essence
living light eternal, our pure quintessence
having known now who we are nothing is gained
since whether we know or not, we are the Self
but having garnered wisdom, soul is unchained
and no fears or desires remain on our shelf
our childlike heart again pristine and unstained
trusting God fully as life flows by itself
poised in peace at all times in heart’s play station
viewing life’s a dreamlike manifestation
as a dweller of the void, beyond space-time,
one with God in a singularity field
bereft of attributes, no peaks left to climb
infinite is the power we therein wield
yet free from desire, we’re engrossed in love’s chime
acting spontaneously, needing no shield
self-existent in the splendour of our light
with time dissolved peace replacing bliss delight
Self is consciousness labels cannot define
being that wherefrom the universe arose
yet in pulse dual too found when we align
head and heart with love, the fragrance of a rose
causing nodes in form with bliss beats to align
accomplished whilst we yet remain in repose
wherein all we need to do is vaporise
that thus in doing so, God we realise
deeper yet within, truth of Self we pursue
recognising consciousness that’s absolute
a bright darkness from which nothing can break through
beyond all realms and music of Krishna’s flute
tightly packed energy known to sages few
yet we are That for it is our very root
one without a second, nothing else exists
known when we abandon ego’s to-do lists
“Doves”
Doves of peace cradled in both hands
lotus flowers unfurling, on each petal many faces
one name in between the two hands
claps for our self-acknowlegement in the now,
opens oceans held by the power of many wings,
one dove walks between the rolling waves reflecting
mirrors in that solitary place, there, we all confront
that which is contained within
parting days that shudder, we move through storms,
faith strikes our free choices, electric like lightening within the clouds
that which moves within the heart of us all, some are called, to be touched
within the conscious imagination
hidden within both light and dark,
only there, within the in-between of shadows
we ignore the others who say this cannot be true
so we decide to revolt against the norm, "We"
leave what is safe and sure,
here our voyage launches us forward
these new and different births,
where better worlds are created
within the hidden purity of light and dark
within the shadows of our imagination
Candide Diderot. ‘25
“As a lotus flower is born in water, grows in water and rises out of water to stand above it unsoiled, so I, born in the world, raised in the world having overcome the world, live unsoiled by the world.”
Buddha
“There is the mud, and there is the lotus that grows out of the mud. We need the mud in order to make the lotus.”
Thich Nhat Hanh
“As the lotus rises on its stalk unsoiled by the mud and water, so the wise one speaks of peace and is unstained by the opinions of the world.”
Buddha
I longed for love—love pure like driven snow,
untouched and virgin—in the years to come:
but years did come and go until (O woe!)
it, like the fall, decayed in my autumn.
Heartbroken, never I a princess met
or maiden girl with whom to spend long nights
of ardent love. (Alas! best to forget
my heart's too foolish hopes of its delights.)
Unstained by sin, naïve and innocent;
unspoil'd by life and vice in the very least:
I cast'd aside my youth's prurient bent,
forswore my loins' lusts and was my own priest!
Now aged and useless, I've denied all love;
thus life's reproach abides and won't approve.
I saw her a milky complexion and a voluptuous frame , she had a name but no surname noone gave her a surname .
I found her similar less incommon a saree she had draped in an impious commotion to look like what she had to look like .
Little choice did she had to hide the wonders of her skin which were not wonders to her , the brightness of her smile nd her cleavage were unholy to them to her , it was mere piece of flesh scotched and held tight without any pocession she was never touched with admiration but only exploitation.
They scorn at her as she is relegated but forget to question her origin before grabbing her , forgot which caste did she uphold because for them she was not a piece of art but a Harlot , her beauty was perhaps sold .
Her feminsm staked for the pleasure of a night nd she cried , she cried not of the pain it gave her but about every remark of unholy and stained sexuality which slapped in her nightmares of open eyes maybe she too complained but her complaints sucked in by mouths of holy men .
But wait , last night she too saw a dream of all holy men where she was also one of them no less was she revered wearing a saree washed with dignity this time .
Her speech as a monologue of her aspirations and not melancholy of compulsory sex . Her lips now echoing the eulogy of her power , they stained her skin but couldn't reach her heart .
Maybe she wants to be a doctor , an actor , a choreographer a singer or a poet but no one asked her . Her demeanour no more sluggish say hello to the newborn priggish her prefix is not just a prostitute , her life is much more than bodily servitude .
No less than a pandit she is a sensational prelude so the next time you see a prostitute just smile at her not for her stained sexuality but for her soul’s individuality because her soul remains
Unstained .
By : Ridhi bhutani ( herfingerwings)
The day becomes night;
As a comrade transcend
To true world beyound.
Oh! Finally, a jolly good fellow drops the baton;
A justice of peace with unstained character,
A sacrificial giver who neglected his needs.
Death, you never cease to amase
As you drive home valiant colleagues.
Death! Hope you know?
Here a while we must be parted
Because
For a while the tired body
Erupt in sleep.
Soul and body reunited.
Thence; death, nothing shall divide
Father, mother, child and brethren.
Nevertheless, the dead, you were great while alive
And great in death.
The pens, sleep till we meet and part no more.
WRITTEN BY EDORE PAUL OYAKHILOME
0092348081195600, 0092348131176767
DEDICATED TO JOURNALISTS .
I look out from the stake
to where my judges are seated;
those proud men know nothing of me.
In Christ I am never defeated
though I will die here today,
condemned for my faith and my courage.
Let me look only at the cross.
The beautiful city of Rouen,
in the curve of the River Seine,
will witness the crime
that will live long past my time.
The bodies of a thousand men
decorate your majestic walls,
you are the bride of terror, torn apart,
a city without a heart.
I have heard the voices of angels,
the commands of God I obey;
though men think they have laid hell around me,
I will rise in the smoke up to heaven
just my shell in the ashes will stay.
And now, below me a scene that horrifies,
people screaming ridicule, irreverent eyes,
cruelty calloused, stare without shame.
My spirit hovers
a conscience pure, unstained,
I am neither a heretic or insane.
Copyright, September 9, 2015
Faye Lanham Gibson
The preordained forgathering
An ineffable Dayspring by Night
Of the King's subjects...
Children of the Light
A convivial convocation, fervent & true
Eternal & ardent princely quietude
The Kiss of Life from the Depths Above
Unremitting, interchanging overtures of Love
Concurrent convergence in the midst of the impasse
Only to gaze upward through a sea of opaque glass
Perfect laughter; resounding illume
Radiance magnificently imbued throughout His inner room
Lofty din; unstained by sin
The movement of His Spirit transfigures yet again
This moment will be inscribed;
Yea, it shall even be outdone
Nevermore to see through a mirror dimly
Eternity yet to come