Best Unsupervised Poems
There was a time, when the sun was our guiding light,
amidst clouds of twilight that paint our skylines bright.
There were no misleading traffic signals,
halting our ride into the mysterious nights.
A shimmering candle was the spark of truth within-
reflecting intuitions that guide through confusions.
Life was then a simple highway with fewer obstacles,
yet in our ignorance we refuse to see—
we've long followed flawed stars dressed in glowing moonrise.
I ponder, when will rain wash away hazy riddles?
as my heart is hollow and I feel empty,
like a lost gypsy on the sidewalk of a nameless street,
wrapped in a blanket of hope,
longing for empathy over a cup of poetry.
Maybe there's still a secure path for the ones that wander,
to steer without looking sideways for toxic trespassers,
lurking in curved corners behind unsupervised stop signs,
flickering amidst double lies of deceptive lines.
Categories:
unsupervised, angst, deep, emotions, life,
Form:
Free verse
When siren screams become silent
to ears for which a heart has stopped;
billions of beats - a billion thoughts,
are not stilled, they survive
in pauses that stare, and dreams
that start awake
and in journals where scribbles trace
where those thoughts rhyme and wander.
There's a sign ahead, at trail's end,
yet no one's there to wake us,
to say - don't go, but,
we've already moved beyond...
Categories:
unsupervised, death, life,
Form:
Free verse
Blazing sun stuns my eyes, sunglasses offer no respite.
Clammy hands tremble, as the steering wheel begins vibrating.
Arsenic heat suffocates, wrapping its hands around my neck.
Parched lips beg to hydrate,
but 'Jeptha Creed' increases the intensity.
Thunder rumbles through my body,
as lightning strikes in 'desert storm' flashbacks -
all I see is red flags, red lights and red rage.
Feet seem cemented trying to find the break,
then stumble trying to regain control.
Dazed thoughts slowly crumble, searching for green to go.
Metal medley of machine guns, bloodshot,
go bang, bang, bang, as all around begins to fall down.
Grenades and strident screams reverberate like bombastic echoes,
over and over again, boom, boom, boom,
like a broken record with deep inherited scratches,
resembling resurfacing scars, left behind from mangled wounds.
Head is spinning like a bike wheel, spasms are speeding, unable to halt.
I scream at graphic memories of fallen comrades,
cursing, why I was the last man standing.
Categories:
unsupervised, anxiety, mental illness, psychological,
Form:
Free verse
The Unsupervised Stop Sign 10-26-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Unsupervised Stop Sign
STOP!
Red lights flash crimson warnings
As arias of bloodred omens swirl about
My heedless headstrong rush past clanging signs
Into a deserted briar filled footpath in desertion.
SLOW DOWN!
Before unattended bowers of simpering weeds
Teach my mindless feet of snares and waiting snakes
While grieving angelic hosts
Sing pathetiques of harbingers.
DANGER!
Scoffing ignorance of neon auguries,
Captured in the throes of blindness,
My scorn winks in guarantees like surety bonds
That no other pathway breaths with rightness.
LOOK! CAUTION!
Heralds of merciful premonitions skirr,
Lay in tatters of disdain - pride traded for prudence
I swat at qualms and question like skeletons of leaves
Only to be swallowed into an abyss of remorse and contrition.
Categories:
unsupervised, angst, pride, sad, self,
Form:
Free verse
There they were, resting before me
black orbs with a layer of white
surrounded by glass
an invitation if ever I saw one
I reached my hand out in defiance of the rules
wanting to devour them, unnoticed
suddenly I stopped...
the thinly veiled threat of punishment
rang in my head
"Don't touch the cookies before dinner"
I wanted to, I needed to
there was a hunger to taste one
I reached out again, then stopped
pulled my hand back, my fingers fell limp
I walked away, my head bowed in silence
separating myself from my dilemma
as I sat down at the dinner table alone
waiting for dinner
my eyes still looking at the glass jar of cookies
Categories:
unsupervised, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
Written: October 25, 2023, For Craig Cornish Contest
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The world is wailing with wantonness
every time feelings and fists collide
crooning in the midst of the earthquake
akin to lamenting the demise of love
Watch as the world catches fire
screams will resound across the ether
an eternal chorus of shrieking, life is dead
All I view are fiery banners stop signs, and rage
In the quest for a break, shoes are static.
We bore witness to the disasters
the dreadful symptoms of spiritual demise
as in the empire of the Egyptian pharaohs
We elevate our sights instead of trusting
sensing a basis for praise toward God
some steel their souls to truth, omitting the warning signs.
Stop signs create a dilemma
Someone's whistle is blaring
shaped to ponder on the best action film
the scene where the hero tragically dies.
Categories:
unsupervised, analogy, angst, bereavement, change,
Form:
Free verse
Many years ago,
girls wore girdles.
The tight uncomfortable things,
they held one in tight.
One summer's night,
I snuck my girlfriend out.
We were off on a double date,
a night of fun and laughs.
Her date found her girdle,
the unsupervised stop sign.
Categories:
unsupervised, boy, girlfriend, humor, night,
Form:
Free verse
The lure of the inky depths
of the dark web...
too much temptation
for innocents out for a good time
Were they foolhardy
or simply naïve
sadly for them
unsupervised
there was no stop sign
I guess they couldn’t resist
the attraction of illicit drugs
posted through their door
by an unsuspecting mail man
Grieving parents
still mourn the loss
of two beloved sons
Their final resting place
an ice cold mortuary slab
Categories:
unsupervised, death, drug,
Form:
Free verse
The bosses are not here today.
Do I have to work for my pay?
Ceiling tiles need counting.
They are in Florida for 'business.'
I've a week to clean up this mess.
We work hard, partying.
Categories:
unsupervised, funny, on work and
Form:
Tail-rhyme
They rode to matches in an old school bus.
The rookies at the front, old players in back,
the coach, by the driver, "she's one of us!".
Wore team colors out, came home wearing black.
An ice hockey team, the pride of Humbolt,
met a 40 ton semi that just didn't break.
Sixteen young players' futures bought to a halt
by a worn out driver, barely awake.
Six thousand people in that prairie town,
a whole nation cried for their sons that night,
but not enough tears the sorrow to drown,
of a mother sobbing, eyes wet, throat tight.
Think on your kids, playing sport, feeling fine,
then think on the loss at lonely stop sign.
Categories:
unsupervised, death,
Form:
Sonnet
Purple spots buzz by
Chatter inside his head
The air is quivering and thick
- no rush
"Stretch out your tongue"
"why, give me seven reasons"
Blessed cogs
on the grandmother clock
a legacy from the age of the fathers
Every heartbeat, clock ticks on
Searching for connection
screaming mayhem in the hospital
Deep coma, these locks he's afraid of
Red stop sign ... foolhardiness
the smoke of zeal
sound exploding launches fireworks
Nothing could stop him
Perseverance, trying to map the unknown
Nuns in freshly ironed uniforms washing his face
he can't move a single muscle
Childhood memories, smell of warm sheets
When the forsythia produces buds
- maybe, his second chance
Categories:
unsupervised, dark, destiny, sad,
Form:
Free verse
When you tell little ones, "Stop taking all the toys,"
then you don't watch to see if they obey~~
when you instruct your school-age girls and boys,
"Stop now. Do chores and homework before you play
more games and talk to your friends," but you never
check to see what has actually transpired~~
when you give kids a curfew but you aren't ever
aware of what time they get in, proving they aren't required
to stop coming in late~~when they won't stop being mean and rude,
and you say, "You're grounded," then the next day let them go,
do, and spend as they please, proving a stinking attitude
is no deterrent to self-rule, you're under their thumb~~this, they KNOW.
Categories:
unsupervised, children, conflict, parents,
Form:
Rhyme
The traffic, always busy,
Seemingly streams smoothly
Slithering through unsupervised
Synaptic stop signs,
Thoughts colliding with ideas
Arriving at synchronistic solutions
Within the cranial carnival side show
High fiving the flirtatious filaments
Of belief’s flickering flames
The carnage of conscience
Waiting for the light to change.
Categories:
unsupervised, imagination, muse,
Form:
Free verse
(A gangster rap)
Yo, on the corner, where the street meets fate,
Unsupervised stop sign, tempting fate,
In the hood's wild west, where rules bend,
That stop sign stands alone, a silent trend.
No law, no authority, it's a lawless land,
But that sign, it's a symbol, taking a stand,
In the chaos of the streets, it holds its ground,
A rebel, a silent voice, all around.
Cars zoomin' by, ignorance in the air,
But that stop sign's there, it doesn't care,
Red octagon, a warning ignored,
In the streets of rebellion, it's adored.
It's like me, in this life of sin,
Breakin' the rules, but I aim to win,
Unsupervised, yet standin' tall,
Against the odds, I'm destined to brawl.
That stop sign's a metaphor, a symbol of might,
In a world so dark, it shines a light,
Unnoticed, unguarded, but it persists,
Like a gangster's resilience, it exists.
I roll through the streets, like a renegade,
With the spirit of that stop sign, never afraid,
In this concrete jungle, where chaos thrives,
I'm the unsupervised rebel, on the rise.
Categories:
unsupervised, rap,
Form:
Rhyme
In the mist of the journey’s penultimate mile,
at the edge of the fading fulcrum of future obscure,
at the door-step of dusk the sunset swansong resonates
for the forlorn essence silhouetted in confounding stillness.
As the twilight time is tinged by the spent sun,
sinking within the strata of the discontent dust,
with the cornucopia of the longing life unlived,
the Rubicon is reached walking the last mile.
The defining moments at the unsupervised stop sign,
design the innate paradigm of emotional epitome.
Awareness assures that the die is not yet cast,
crossing the conscience line would defy self-actualization.
The inner torment driving to self-destruction,
or the enticement of the forbidden fruit,
the sinful exploits activated by the transgression of
the decree of the unseen law maker, the absolute.
Stopping at the sign stimulates the spiritual sensitivity,
ameliorates the pain of existential predicament profound,
saves the psyche from the clasp of soul’s dark night,
unfurling within uncertainty mayhem the divine leitmotif.
Categories:
unsupervised, life, sin, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse