Best Untapped Poems
Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
I See You...
Wanderer, wanderer, lost in the haze
void of direction, succumb to the craze.
Give ear to my madness, so deftly designed;
deception de-jour: aimed to muddle your mind.
Hocus and pocus no need for free thought,
erase your opinions, your conscious to rot.
As sugar and soda your smile decay,
a hoax and swindle, then off on your way.
Smoke and a mirror, please don’t look too close.
The truth makes one banal; drugs for the morose.
Illusion can conjure emotions untapped
a quick misdirection, now I’ve got you trapped.
You think you arrived here, quite all on your own
you’re one of a billion, another sad clone…
I’ve stolen the treasure that once made you free
brainwashed you to thinking all’s as it should be.
Gobbledygook and hyperbolized drivel
platitudes, platitudes, mentally shrivel;
accept what I tell you, and not an ounce more,
wanderer, wanderer, you’re lost evermore.
07/12/15
The muses all march to their own rhythmic drum
Or saunter or scamper in their favored time
The poems will come when they come, when they come
Blank paper on desk, pen on finger and thumb
The poet sits poised to inscribe thoughts sublime
The muses all march to their own rhythmic drum
With verve you foresaw untapped depths you would plumb
But zeal slowly fades in a mute pantomime
The poems will come when they come, when they come
Yet do not despair or resign as would some
The cycle of seasons is their paradigm
The muses all march to their own rhythmic drum
Enjoy the down time: visit friends, share some rum
Read poets you love while awaiting your rhyme
The poems will come when they come, when they come
Then, glorious day! Muses sing, dance, and hum
Fresh words fall like snowflakes, cathedral bells chime
The muses all march to their own rhythmic drum
The poems will come when they come, when they come
written 22 Jan 2020
Boated through the tantalizing Kerala backwater
in a pleasant summer morning;
Coconut groves were adorning
our way and perky fishes were chased by river otters
Cacophony of the swaying lofty coconut trees
and the nearby evergreen plants
produced a mesmerizing chant
that certainly consoled the chaotic minds and appease
Majestic banyan tree with its spiraled pillar branches
enthralled the endemic birds
and the migrating animal herds
on the river bank, renovated the place into the ranch
Suddenly the boat entered into the hollow way
where tangled trees made archways,
and fallen flowers filled our pathways
welcomed us, it was such an unforgettable day
Reflections of the slender palm trees on the waters,
painted a flawless picturesque picture
with the kaleidoscope of colors and mixtures
Which was untapped only in the perpetual back waters
Coots and cormorants swiftly plunged into water
When they heard the sound of the boat
Tranquility of the place calmed the hysteria
and it led to the apocalypse of worldly emotions
Sep-9-2017
POTD on Sep 11 2017
I was so happy and I felt so blessed as I received this honour on the death anniversary of my favorite poet Mahakavi Bharathiyar.
Plagued with an unimaginable measure of beauty
She sits somewhere between the Indian and the Atlantic
Her history boasts of nothing but debauched slavery
Having served leaders who were very autocratic
She boasts of a vast expanse of unexploited vegetation
An even greater magnitude of untapped mineral resources
Yet her people reside in abject deprivation
As they look beyond their motherland to external sources
Famine, drought and diseases are her nemesis
Her leaders never seem to be sensitive to her plight
Amassing wealth for themselves and families
Ignoring the very reason for their current might
Oh Africa my motherland
Bursting with glory and heavenly blessings
May the good Lord stretch forth His hand
To bless thee with leaders worthy of your consecrations
I look at my card, it's that of a fool.
Should I put this card back into the deck?
Can I harness his power as my tool?
I try to keep my emotions in check.
Will immaturity rule all my days?
Should I put this card back into the deck?
Perhaps impulsive, the fool has his ways.
Does my own journey lead to a bright place?
Will immaturity rule all my days?
Sometimes it's hard, to look at my own face.
I see untapped potential in my eyes.
Does my own journey lead to a bright place?
I look with excitement and realize.
Sometimes a fool doesn't have to pretend.
I see untapped potential in my eyes.
Will I stop before I come to an end?
I look at my card, it's that of a fool.
Sometimes a fool doesn't have to pretend.
I can harness his power as my tool!
Tarot Poem Contest.
Gypsy winds, wind their way
across deserts and plains;
whip the tumbleweeds and
sands into a frenzy.
Nomad scorpions roam dunes alone,
burrowing deep, to escape
a tempestuous sirocco.
In lonely places cacti sentinels
stand vigilant day and night;
the magic within them, untapped by humans.
Only a few know the secrets of desolate places;
fewer still, those of their own backyard.
Observation, in its purest form, is a rare practice;
most people live on the Earth, not in it.
Participate in life and it will broaden the mind.
Expand your knowledge, with the senses and insight;
wisdom is bestowed, as a reward.
A bump on a log, never gives, but stagnates.
The winds of change, reveal secrets to the open ear;
listen carefully, to those gypsy winds.
To reach nirvana
Poet paradise
You have to reach the third level
It's a journey to forever
It may take some their whole lifetime,
and others may never get there
It's a quantum leap
fraught with uncertainty
First it takes writing skill,
then an inexhaustible will
and finally, untapped creativity
The first level is easy
Most anyone can do it,
you simply write what you feel and think
It requires no linguistic coordination,
no moral obligation,
just the courage to dive in, unafraid to sink
Some people drown in their own words,
no sense of it all can be heard,
just a rapid ride on their stream of consciousness
If you make it through the first level
with pen still in hand and curiosity still intact,
you can further elevate and explore
But a lot of poets, sadly, become satisfied with where they're at
The second level is much harder
Not everyone can do it,
exploring themes not from your own personal experience
It's a precarious climb
melding a vicarious mind,
leading you sometimes to places that you never sought to find
Some people can't handle it, they cower away
when facing the daunting realm of the unknown
Unanchored from their familiar world view, their confidence be gone
If you make through the second level
with sound mind in place and determination still undeterred,
you can shed the constraints of time and space
But more winnowed poets, regrettably,
haven't the creative stamina to finish the race
The third level is the most difficult to reach
Only breached by a chosen few,
who were born to travel to the farthest dimensions of the mind
They breathe unexplored air,
they speak with authority of being there
Poetic pioneers fearlessly going where others are not so inclined
They are chosen ones who enter a hidden sacred space;
transversing the treacherous depths of the heart, facing come what may
They are timeless souls searching beyond the veiled gray
They've reached the third level
Nirvana
Poet paradise
The nexus of every imagined possibility:
they will be faithful to observe,
faithful to record,
faithful to write all that they see
Creep the vines crawling the guarded walls
Peek the rays drawing into my restless mind
Breaking dawn burning off the morning mist
Submitting no longer to a life of trepidation
Living out daily dreams and forgotten fantasies,
letting go of pains and endless sufferings,
releasing thoughts and feelings
trying to make things seem
right in a world of all wrong
Generous soul pour out your torments
through my veins bring to light
in the freshness of a new day
a garden of bountiful harvests
in an untapped sea of love
where the butterflies come to play
It’s been a year since I joined the soup,
Meanwhile we’ve gone round the sun in a loop,
Sadly some fell off, didn’t quite make it all the way,
I’m clinging on, hoping to find one better day.
But the loop continues, has to persist,
Like our thoughts, it’s what makes us exist,
So off we go on our journey, around once more,
Headlong to tomorrow, unsure what’s in store.
Creating poems of all shapes and every kind,
Unaware what verse will next spring to mind,
Oh boy then it comes, at once all together,
A feeling of achievement moments of pleasure.
Sometimes I wonder are they already written,
Preprogrammed into life, an untapped composition,
Latently buried, in the back of our mind,
Placed there by creation, or maybe design.
So like it or not, as we loop around the soup
One thing I’m sure of, this life is no fluke,
And that’s us in a nutshell, as we spiral through space,
Today seems the same, but earths in a different place.
PODIUM PLACING PROMISE(4) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand 20 lines
03/01/2020
I'm lost in there
battered between form and function
existing in the guesswork
institutionalised by containment
figured out on the block
measured by what takes up space
every layer perfectly in place
to provide freedom to conform
I merge and merge again
despite being part of no plan
unstoppable in my inexplicable existence
tip out my untapped potential
lay me on the table
busy yourself with dissection
broken up into components
I can do no more
cannot be put back together
an empty head
with no view of itself
an offered up cadaver
any day of the week
Written: March 13, 2024 For Andrea Dietrich Contest
_______________________________________
Happiness is the epitome of love and affection,
Happiness, a thrill bliss, soulful, with excitation.
Happiness must be sought, not idle, a lofty vow,
To love and be loved is the ultimate Elysian glow.
Happiness loop on a string, scented by divine love,
Scarlet roses, auric happiness from above.
Happiness from bliss inspires untapped reverence,
Elegant colors of true love and thrilled evidence.
Happiness in love embrace, hearts bear flight,
A symphony of joy, pure and bright.
Happiness in our existence we hold so dear,
To love and be loved is always, forever near.
Happiness is a garden of blooms in a dwarf abode,
Crimson shine dazzles each whirling blood lode.
Happiness is a waltz on emerald meadow view,
Uttering songs to those blooms of turquoise too.
What if the world is full of love
Accepting of God's message arising from above
What if the world is full of laughter
Knowing there exists a glorified hereafter
What if the world is full of truth
Fills the minds of all the youth
What if the world declared no more nasty wars
Much healing to amend all divisive people flaws
What if the world now all together as community
With each other develop affectionate perpetuity
What if the world lives in harmony with nature
Ascendance of the soul enhanced a joyous stature
What if the world is full of happy smiling faces, brows no longer furrowed, worried
A gentle pace of movement in a world no longer hurried
What if the world is full of kindness supporting when we fall
A world that's full of freedom allowing each proudly to walk tall
What if the world fulfils untapped loving potential
What if all the what ifs morphed becomes existential
WHAT IF.........
From tragedies emerge
untapped reservoirs of faith
astonishing their bearers and the world
Why God, O Why, does it take
death and destruction ~
~ for Your nature to unfurl
You sleep ashore with longing eyes wide,
Consciously still to swell with the tide.
Late night before the endless, black sea,
I found you wavering there for me.
But lost you against the sky above,
And woke up mournfully in love.
Sunrise I found you in the garden, streaming,
With flowers in your hair, sprawled out and beaming.
You were warm like skin in summer rain;
We kicked across the fields you reign.
You seized my hand; my head still spins,
My love, you teem to merely exist,
And conquer means to infinite ends.
I take you in like roots take up rain,
Like a needle pricks an untapped vein,
Like a candle strips a savage flame.
You are the absolute ecstasy for which I distend,
The sun to which I tirelessly bend.
And I lust so much it burns me up;
When you see that dreams are not enough,
In a garden alluring, obscure, and lush—
The forbidden will awaken upon our touch.
--
9/5/14