Best Unsuitable Poems
Woman in Chains
(What Man Would Abide It?)
Women throughout centuries – the softer sex.
I picture them subservient since what feels like time primordial!
What man would abide
being sold as if mere chattle and being called another’s property?
What man, with a love of learning or of writing,
would acquiesce and be denied
the education and the opportunities he so desired?
What man would dare take second place -
hiding in the background or covering his face
because society or church said things were meant to be that way?
What man would abide having cut off from his body
that part of him from which carnal pleasure is derived?
What man would let his feet be broken as a child,
bound up to resemble hooves to keep him in his place?
What man would abide being burned alive
if the dowry of his spouse were deemed unsuitable?
What man would abide (if not so inclined)
enduring the agonies of giving birth again and again
because his spouse preferred he stay at home?
What man would abide being raped or even killed
as punishment for even being raped?
What man would endure constant beatings for “his own good”
and feel good that his church or state approved this?
What man, if he were able to get pregnant,
would take on all the stress of unwed motherhood
when the one who got him pregnant bailed on him?
What man would abide the stigma and the soiled reputation?
What man would prostitute himself to feed his babies
because a job for one like him would not be given?
What man would abide living enslaved by an abuser,
afraid to run away or be found and killed by his abuser?
Atrocities like these through centuries have too long been endured.
No man would for so long a time endure them.
For reasons of pure biology, the role of the abused
was hoisted primarily on women.
Thank God for those strong women a mere century ago
who stood up, bravely fighting for women’s rights.
Thank God for lonely sister souls in faraway places
who even now stand fighting against inequities -
simply for the fact that they were born the softer sex.
Aug. 31, 2020 for John Hamilton's Woman in Chains Contest
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by, and
That has made all the difference".
The Road Not Taken. Robert Frost
We deem it normal for babies to cry when they arrive.
Perhaps it's the best indication that they are alive.
But in their minds, it seems they are issuing a protest.
Notwithstanding, it takes only a little bit of loving caress,
and, just like that, newborns succumb to affection and tenderness.
It's as if a baby accepts it by saying, "Now that I am here"....
What if we were just as adjusting when life presents us with the
unexpected? "Now that we are here" would be a calming and mature
manner of course. We will never know the difference our lives would have been or would have made had it gone just as we had planned or how we
had prepared for it to be.
Before now, I had not given much thought to what might be happening at
birth in the minds of the baby, but I believe that there is a God-designed element within us at birth that gives us an untrained instinct or hidden
desire to make adjustments when so required.
Sometimes, when we are drawn into places that are unplanned and unsuitable, or by our own intention, we have every right and a need to
protest and seek an exit. But then, there are times that we of necessity
must bow to the situation and say, "Now that we are here", let's make the best of the circumstance. Let's reevaluate and recalculate. Let's reconsider and recheck the GPS that God has given us.
"Now that we are here", who knows but what God has brought us or allowed us to enter this place, this season, this misfortune, for such a time as this?
Like newborn babies, let us indeed protest this strange turn of events. We
absolutely have been given a will, a uniqueness, and a mind of our very own.
By the same token, we must occasionally turn aside and say, "Now that we are here", what now? Now that we are here, a place we never intended to be or to go, what shall we now do? Does this way lead to my destiny? What new ideas and inspiration await us? I know whereof I speak, and I must say, mine has been quite a ride.
031923PSCtest, Now that we are here. Unseeking Seeker
The year was 1680 and I was travelling,
I sat in the carriage looking out the window;
The coachman was driving the horses quickly,
As a storm was approaching us from behind.
Thunder was booming and rolled over the forest,
Already raindrops were falling on the glass;
The sky was overcast with dark shifting clouds,
And everything was getting dull and gloomy.
This road was so deserted and remote from civilization,
I must admit that I was afraid.
Suddenly the carriage lurched and was falling over,
It bounced through the foliage, twisting and turning;
And then it stopped and all was quiet and still,
The coachman was dead and the horses also.
Struggling, I managed to climb back up to the road,
My corseted body, full overskirt of pink satin;
And parchment petticoat unsuitable for climbing,
The bun on my head loosened and my hair fell.
Oh dear, it was so dark and misty on the road ahead.
But I started to walk in the inkiness.
The forest around me was pitch black and frightening,
But there, through the trees a light was burning;
The rain was coming down in torrents that blinded me,
As I stumbled forward through the tangled trees.
A wood cabin was hidden in green lush vegetation,
It looked so secluded and isolated and lonely;
But I found myself banging on the door loudly,
As sheets of rain poured on me from up above.
And then the door slowly opened and light spilled out,
And I stood there dripping wet, and . . . .
________________________
August 22, 2015
Poetry/Narrative/Cabin in the Forest
Copyright Protected, ID 15-702-939-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Young Peter is far from perfect
Teen anger he fails to deflect
His trail of destruction
Has caused such a ruction
You should see the items he’s wrecked
His parents do little to stop him
They’re addicts, and too busy popp’in
Heroin and pills
Which don’t cure their ills
The outlook for Peter is grim
He ‘borrowed’ a car with his mates
and drove very fast round estates
they didn’t get far
cos they crashed the car
they’ve not even got their L plates!
He shoplifts from the local shops
Been caught many times by the cops
The stupid young fool
He breaks ev’ry rule
T’will be a good job when he stops.
He damaged his neighbours new wall
With spray paint he began to scrawl
Words that were so rude
With pictures so crude
His actions they did so appal
These issues are across our nation
Good morals are a strong foundation
We must guide our youth
With respect and truth
Perhaps it will be their salvation!
Unsuitable for contest as its not free verse but i thought it was still worth posting:-)
4/8/18
How things have changed!
The old verities no longer apply
Our world has evolved
and we must adapt
Electricity connects the whole planer
One can get in touch with people in almost all lands
within seconds
The internet reaches around the globe
The "information highway" makes for a smaller world
A world we may well leave soon in space vehicles
Space travel will change from
the province of a few individuals
to the province of billions of Earth dwellers
We are making the earth
unsuitable for habitation
We must change or be destroyed
by forces of our own making
We may be forced to leave Spaceship Earth
in order for our species to survive!
W hen you go to someone's wedding
H ave you done so in clothes that are unsuitable?
E ver shown up for an evening out wearing shorts?
R emember the times when we "dressed" for dinner?
E ven now, some do so.
I t isn't everyday that special things happen in our lives...
S trange how inadequate we are in showing respect.
T here are times when a casual attitude is not offensive.
H ovever, that is for the mundane.
E ach one of us makes choices with regard to events in life.
R ecently, I attended the memorial for a friend's mother.
E very one who was there knew that this was a somber occasion.
S ome, however, did not take the time to think about their demeanor.
P erhaps we have gone overboard with our "casual" attitudes.
E xpectations for me are that one would come dressed for the ceremony.
C asual attire and wearing baseball caps are fine at a picnic, but
T hen, I was taught that social graces begin at home.
Where has he gone, the one who carried my laughter, gave me countless stories of his pasture, unsuitable for a grazing sheep like me.
Where has he gone, the one who confused hearts with the mastery of his muse, taken by his words of smooth.
Where has he gone, the deceitful nature of his innocent behavior intentional, unintentional still favored.
Where has he gone, my compass could not detect the direction of his wind, if I keep searching will I find him again or is this a journey towards no end.
Where has he gone, hidden under a rock to hide once again, his heart that has been shattered by countless friends, will the shattered stones be cast by one, will the tears from fright be dried by the Son or will his heart still need me.
Here I am but where has he gone.
Evading feral branches and pools of stagnant stuff.
I'm taking the short way home ,
Greasy grass and soaking anarchist weeds saturate my feet,
I'm frozen to the bone all to take the short way home.
Through hawthorn trees With vampire's teeth,
Whose thorns delight in biting soft drunken meat.
Their existence justified beneath the silent moonlight
And soon I am out moaning bloodied and shivering
To start the long traipse through dank sludge
My shoes disappear beneath the earth to be reunited with the land
So here I stand bleeding and barefooted.
With the frost rattling my bones,
All to take the short way home.
Is that the wind or some ancient spirit weeping With laughter.
In the distance beneath the shadow of a bungalow
I see the wall I must scale
Each step is heroic an act bravery
That only foolish men with frostbitten toes can only know
Is it hour or ten minutes I cannot tell
Trudging through no man's land this self inflicted hell
My clothes are destroyed head to toe in smelly stuff
As if I was wrestling on a pigsty floor with a horny and frustrated boar
Oh how I could sing for joy as my muck encrusted hands finally carcass
The cold hard cement of my neighbours wall
With the will of Genghis kahn or one those ancient warriors.
I heave my aching frame over thinking victory is mine,
Only to hear the crunch of shattering glass and I scream words unsuitable for delicate ears,
For I landed in a bin of empty wine bottles and rusty tin
I hear a click and see a porch light been turned on,
"whose out there I got a gun"
"don't worry about it"i nearly cry
"it's just your average drunken fool
taking short way home.
BEE-HAVE
church was abuzz with matrimonial mass
and we were mesmerized by the goofy voice
of the master of ceremonial priest don’t laugh
my husband’s pinching his skin so thin
i dare not look at him at the same time, a few rows
back my cousin has his own planned attack
leans up near my sister-in-law and finds need
to mention her hand in my brother’s pants pocket
oh how he jests “how unsuitable for church”
now she’s ahem just staying warm so i’m
trying to keep it all together you know
church face and all but now there’s a bee buzzing
smack against my brother’s face perhaps it also
disapproved of the inappropriateness the indiscretion
aggressive move of his wife (tears rolling, ready to burst
like an ice cold pipe in deep winter) i smooth down
my dress pinch my husband’s skin (okay mine)
and try to keep my eyes front-facing ...but for that voice
our side of the family might even have tried to be
….civilized ;)
10/23/2017
Light Poetry
SAVE MY MOTHER, AFRICA
Poor Africa, why have you allowed your ancient precious priceless beads taken away frm you while coveting after a common coated carved stones from the foreign land?
Where were you when your artifacts were shipped to the land behind the oceans
And your Children worked by the mill day and night
They took away your treasured garment and sealed you with an ''unsuitable suit'' from a distant land.
They inserted straw in a bottle and dip it in your mouth, but fix hose to your anus and passed it into a tank.
Draining your blood in the name of exchange
They took away your staff of office with which you have peacefully and successfully lead for centuries. They gave you guns in return to scatter your wards around, thereby losing ur respect.
They once respected you, now dread you
No longer the you they knew
Dear great Motherland where is your sense of supremacy of those good days, before u were made to look inferior?
Will you still allow this train to continue with d hopeless journey?
Where all we now live for is nothing but money
Now we treat one another line monkeys
O great Africa hear the call from your womb
The child therein is due for delivery
Tighten not your cervix the passage of life
The future sits uncalm inside of you
The entire world awaits that unique cry
The birth of the future, the new world
Unchain yourself from the shackles of the West
Create your path trough the jungle
This is the forest from where you were raised
Where the paths to the streams and ranches
Paths to the mountains and the valleys
Your children raced and long for everyday
Call out your lost children behind the seas
Scattered across the deserts in their search for greener pastures that never exist
Call out in your slangs they know your voice
Let them come home to rescue the hailing mother
Our mother is sick and losing her breath
Fellow brothers and warriors on sojourn
Rest not in the land of your captivity
Run back home and heed the call of mama
Our mother has taken up a another father
Our step father rapes her day and night
Now about to die with her pregnancy
Come rescue our mother the mother Africa
Save the life of her unborn baby the new world
Time to leave the barn and head home
Home is where we come not their Rome
Romans built their home
Africa must build her own
(FM CONCEPTUAL)
There is nothing worse than love except unloved.
It's unclear why I have been moved from desirable to undesirable.
An unaccountable situation not uncommon in the relationship world.
The issue that one has become uncommitted is undeniably
ungracious and unsuitable.
The fact that my possession of an individuals undivided attention
that has been replaced with uninterested and unclaimed
makes me uncertain of the existence of the love she claimed.
Am I to understand that she became uncomfortable and unconsolable?
I underestimated unbreakable. Undermining the unwilling unknowing that
the price would be the ultimate. Where was I unrelenting in my cruelty?
I find it unsearchable to see what went unchecked or what parts I left unrequited.
I'll just have to let her go so that she will be unburdened.
Better that than her being unfaithful.
Not to be confused with Double Dutch which is no longer deemed
Politically Correct,
Or gobbledegoop which could be associated with goblins and witchcraft which
would make it unsuitable for religious folk,
Gibberish is now being learned by every nation on earth.
The cheif advantage of learning to speak gibberish is that nobody realy
understands it,
So it is hard to be held accountable for what you have said.
Gibberish is also now becoming the preferred written language worldwide.
Again you will not be held accounatble for something so open to
misinterpretation.
To obatain a masters degree in gibberish, you will need to learn about codes,
As you don't want your gibberish to be too consistant,
Or someone might be able to work out what you are saying and you could be
held accountable.
Another advantage of learning gibberish is that you won't have to forego that Extra drink, as drunk or sobre it will always be gibberish.
The more gibberish you produce the more people will respect you as
worldly and wise.
You will aslo make it easy for non gibberish speakers to interpret your orders in Ways that will let them get on with whatever they are doing without fear of
being held accountable.
A word of caution however, don't take too long to learn to speak gibberish or
You could be the last person except for the Queen to be understood and she has diplomatic immunity,
So you will be it, I am afraid, unless you sign up now at a very low price
to learn basic gibberish.
I wake early- even before the birds,
my nightgown is thread-bare, all a tatter;
when I try to talk, I just lose my words,
my mirror reveals a frumpy oldster.
Oh, that is not me- I am beautiful,
just a silly optical illusion;
this old mirror is quite unsuitable,
a figment of my imagination.
There is an old lady in front of me,
she is ancient, white-haired and crumbling;
wait, maybe that is me- wish I could see,
oh, she is back that sweet girl summoning.
Do come sweet girl- lets go for breakfast,
now where is my lipstick and pearl necklace?
_______________________
August 26, 2016
Poetry/Sonnet/"Crazy Old Lady
Copyright Protected, ID 16-823-455-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Which Of The Four
sponsor, Sara Kendrick
Theme - old age
Seventh Place
SKipping Rocks
dreams are for rookies
image pounders like thunder
unsuitable rocks
**Phil J.
He proved, with a skill irrefutable,
Some functions to be uncomputable.
His run sadly halted
When magistrates faulted
His code-breaking love as unsuitable.
---
(Alan Turing was a brilliant pioneer in the development of computer science. Among other achievements, he is remembered for proving that it is not possible to compute a general solution to the problem of whether or not a given program will ever halt, and for his so-called "Turing test" approach to the question of what artificial intelligence would mean, and for the pivotal role he played in breaking Nazi codes in WWII. His tragic early death is thought to have been a suicide, perhaps motivated at least in part by the horrifying legal prosecution he endured for his homosexuality.)