Best Untempered Poems
Oh seed of Dante, dost thy path
in mid-life's turning gone astray
upon a sylvan darkness hath
to tread a rut with feet of clay?
Wast thou that youth of virtue pure
who bargained not with Judgment Day
untempered green convictions sure
before life's tests induced decay?
Didst compromise and circumstance
thy dreams of glory put away
to promise them a second chance
if thou but wouldst concede delay?
Rejoice upon thy wisdom learned!
With youth's illusions purged away
there's still a kingdom to be earned.
Persist, persist, and find the way!
June 28, 2014
Rising from the desert sand
was a shimmering mirage
of a thousand shouts
Heated winds of fanaticism,
intense and blowing violently loud
Shrill calls to blood prayer seethe,
breathing fiery invocations
of a perverted philosophy
Screaming death to the infidels —
a scarlet smeared mirror reflecting
black cloth covered savagery
Crimson prayers are the daubed untempered mortar
which cements the foundation of this shakily rising kingdom
Whet the glittering scimitar swung grisly:
Beheadings are the blade’s
propaganda recruitment shock TV
Desert crisis ... dreaded carrion claws of ISIS,
oasis mirage bathe the sociopaths in bloody bliss
Mutilated bodies floating upon the desert sea,
a raised dark flag boasts of a fleeting victory
Prideful utterances of unspeakable barbarity
Contemned caliphate mercurial rising ...
now descending quickly below the horizon
Crumbling desert kingdom,
butchery sow the seeds of your ruin
The sand castle rise to power was ever so brief,
a pirated religion kingdom soon to end suddenly
Taking hostage your own faith,
now the proselyte guards are
fleeing from the palace carnage
Crumbling desert kingdom,
butchery sow the seeds of your ruin
Innocent blood spilled in the sand
will be your caliphate’s undoing
Crumbling desert kingdom,
blood reap the harvest of your ruin
Let your prophets of terror and rage
shout a false sanctum call to prayer
Intoning not this one truth: God will surely repay!
Oh my beautiful Daughters
what have you done to the men of the Earth,
turning the roar of men's' love into notes of shame and whispers,
discoloring the gallant glow of trust with untempered lust for popular worth,
I made you to be embodiment of something sacred,
a steadfast source of Divine sincerity in the chaos of Man's struggle to be heroic,
to soothe and inspire His hope for honor, to be the hand he could hold in the tremor of dread,
in the Begining you did this much and more, exceeded the seed of my dream, making Them historic,
But you, my remorseless and rabid Girls
sought to be worshiped as a cult of marauding maidens of madness,
a horde of haughty harpies wanting glory your own, thrones tailored from supine bones,
pleasured as predators of Princes and paupers
saddistic seducers of troubadours and savants,
making " high minded " heros helpless on the cliffs of your thrills,
Oh my ravenous Daughters what have you done to the hearts of men,
what have you become with speared touch and rough laughter,
warm in love sport and cold in lip lies,
the Furies have your fame and faces framed in black flame
the day is soon when your beauty will become ashen, charms unmet with passion,
and the Furies will befriend you
adorn with thorned fashion, feed you a vulture's ration,
Nemesis is on your terrible trail of predatory travail
She to unveil the wail of your reward's gale,
my lovely Princesses, my girls of gnarled gain
a wind storm of lovers' cries flies towards you
a punishment Holy in it's honor and horrible in It's hit,
bite you shall, sixfold from Humility's tit -
J.A.B.
In the garden of my soul
there fell a seed
wondrous smooth
and dark as evening’s shadow
from which emerged a tree
tentative
its stem twisting uncertain from the soil
as a lover estranged
contriving an oblique path to bliss
unassuming seeming
yet in every subtle arc and incline
betraying desire by apprehension
its bark was gray as dawn
concealing colors dimly recalled
of a forest perhaps
or the creatures within
subdued, but of a sudden
illumined stark
inspired for a moment to endure exposure’s hazard
lest their beauty rest unrealized
unto death in fear’s embrace
and so it was
intrigued by these discreet shades of delight
I stayed the instinct that bade me
cut this curious guest
before it deprive all plants
cultivated by slow discipline
of nourishment
thus intact
from infancy it passed
until mature
its roots entwined with every cherished flower
and sweet-smelling herb
it issued forth a blossom
purple as melancholy
as it touches solitude’s warmth
and is rendered akin to joy
too gentle to endure
it yielded swift to fruit
its surface saffron
its flesh red
and seeming in its succulence
to entertain all contradictory moods
suggesting rose and berry
and lavender and peach
their certainty contaminated
but through intimacy grown vivid
as melodies may
by contact resonate in opposition
and in this way I was enriched
by eating of the tree’s blessing born of doubt
though through its flourishing thence
my garden has become a place most strange
transformed by lust untempered
into the home of myriad beasts and briers
possessed of claw
and thorn that rend
and streams that flood
and fungi that rise silent
from the wetness over night
and deep
where no thought penetrates
a seed awaiting propagation
dark perhaps
and wondrous smooth
In time, a faded letter turned to ash,
dampened teak now acrid and abused,
a timeless quarrel's scene, an ancient clash,
one paroxysm fierce, two mastheads fused.
Subsumed in fortune's cast of reel and ruse,
blended masses nursing wounds and fears
ne'er comprehending how it ended here.
What forced each flag to wield its harshest hand,
yet cause to happenstance may seldom look,
wild thoughts untempered, soldiers of the grand,
nostalgia or clean might for pride mistook.
Fair warning to the hungry, e'en wisest book
makes not the calm of vernal noon's delight
worth more than ashen spoils from the fight.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
(Response)
What magnitude of love, thou hath for me
A flowing fountain welleth up inside
Overfilling my heart with love and pride
Merely mirrors the love I share for thee
Our two hearts were meshed by God's blessed grace
Our love strengthens the tie that binds our souls
Untempered by heaven, forever it grows
Immeasurable love through time and space
Countless stars will sleep, winds will rise and fall
My darling, I thirst and hunger for thee
Please bringeth forth thy love and comfort me
The love we share encompasses all
Such Divine love before unknown to man
Such true love shall never be known again
response to Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnet
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...
Feb 12 2016
Blessed read as two syllables in line 5
14 lines - 10 syllables per line
by Daniel Turner
The warming flames of a fireplace
Easing away the frost and the cold
The warmth massaging my face
As the sparks crack in the fires mold
The flame stretches one inch too far
Touching lightly the untempered wall
It catches and burns all things inside
Turning the walls as black as the night
A sad desolation, caused by one little spark
Chaos and destruction, by the once warm hearth
Things can change without you knowing why
Something you once loved, bringing tears from your eyes
Who have remained steadfast
Who wield strength when beaten senseless
Who dare to taste the ugly and unrevered
Who allow emotional currents to breeze by
Who carve the hairline fracture of knowledge into deep jagged untempered faults of creation
Who pause for the soothing rumble of a child's voice
Who take a stand when legs are broken and irrevocably unbalanced
Who play to win yet never keep score
Who think win-win is obvious and redundant
Who value shelter and engagement of all sizes and shapes
Who see the crystal godly images obscured by billowy smoke and heinous toxicity
Who sing and relish the quiet participation in the shadows of the common man
Who reach down when no one else will
Who pursue and dream even when time and humanity has rendered it futile
Who know the reason why we are called mankind
Who feel that all hearts should beat together as one
I salute you.
(3/5/12)
Beneath the weight of that
Decisive
Moment,
your mind rifles for a memory of me.
... a waltzing illusion
of whispered lashes upon
tear-stained cheeks.
Slippery images of half grins
and muddied promises
left outside the door to find their own way.
I’ve met untempered currents
that dragged you beneath
monochromatic layers
of near death.
I’ve raged against the forces
that checked your wings,
the pale blue of your gaze
adrift on low tide
that missed the shadow of me
loving you.
I hear your voice still, in words
left for me.
Alone.
And I hear time abysmal.
And time rules our worlds.
So I wait.
It’s days like this that my mind returns to Raleigh
The pitch, sandy futon, and our intertwined deviant legs
Pushing for a fix
I for one goal, you for another
I would be more aware by the end of the night
of the smoothness of your forehead, and your full Latin lips
While you would know my hips
and fistfuls of my golden hair
We would each know the fire on our tongues
and the familiar feeling of a heavy mind, tossing and turning
chest to chest
I loved you, but was surprised to find your hands rough
and your lips untempered
Like a child, you indulged in me
without the mind for what I am, or the culture to know better
Though still, you press and carry me
under the door frame, to the floor
and as we rest, night continues to sink, like theatre canvas
And We are disposed to move
With your golden skin, you lie
As your fingers trace circles in my skin
I thought that you loved me too...
But when my mind returns to Raleigh
My thoughts return to you
and your cold bed, our swimming heads
and how at dawn, you dropped me off
My bitten skin looking redder in the tail lights
Daydream: fragile as untempered glass.
Coming to life on clouds' rainy sky.
Building hopes it will at last surpass
other dreams we had and watched go by.
Wind's rustling leaves can nudge a dream,
though often found in bird's lovely song,
dandelion seeds wafting by streams,
sunset's reds massed in brilliant throng.
When you capture a daydream to own,
it will need some substance to sustain;
strength of desire, with future unknown,
don't let strength falter, people disdain.
Hold tight a daydream, or it may fade.
Once released, it may not reappear.
If, for moments, it lingers in shade,
It may become mist and disappear.
November 22, 2022
for Don't Quit Your Daydreams poetry contest
by Craig Cornish
6th Place
How love takes ownership with
a single kiss,
a sigh, a movement into a world of sensuous bliss,
Your softness of skin speaks a language anew,
the warmth of your body wraps me as you pull me close to you,
and lips explore the contours with eyes closed,
like the mind is lost to lust and is with love overdosed,
Every moment is a slice of heaven as we explore,
deeper and deeper into our own depthless vision of love,
The flow of passion sweeps across like untempered forest fire,
In that dim lit corridor our bodies provide the only glow,
One may stop a seething ocean wave but none can stop this passion flow,
it is you and me our desires as the ocean winds roar,
Fluttering silky white curtains at our bodies to explore,
the absolute marvel of creation that is unhindered love,
a force of nature that cannot be subdued,
Shut the world out, its petty distractions no longer endured,
Let’s stay here and for ever make love!
Wrote for Lu lou’s poetry competition. But
Was late by a few hours, so missed it!
I was ten
And SHE was eleven
And the other was already gone long ago
But now we get happiness
Bad habits follow
Bad actions
Bad moods
Unprepared parents make
Untempered tantrums
The medicine is killing me
Why can’t I take control
Anger and Pain
Pain and Anger
A room filled with trash
But it's MY TRASH
MINE
Sometimes in healing
We cast our pain
On the people we love
Moms got medicine
She cries for yelling
I don't care
I don't care
Time to see the therapist
I HATE THIS
I hate this
It doesn’t even work
Why did you steal?
I don’t know
I don't even remember picking that up
School is tiring
I know what I a supposed to do
But nobody sees me anyway
That girl sees me.
I don't like it
She sees me and is rude
All the other kids get yelled at for moving
I left in the middle of class
Nobody noticed when I got back
Why do homework
It doesn't matter
Nobody looks at these grades
Why keep comics
If you can't read them
I don't understand why the packaging is important
I see that you are angry
I don't see how moving a book
From one corner to another
Is Stealing
But ok
In the melancholic hour of introspection, where twilight paints the sky with sadness,
Religious souls often walk, hand in hand with righteousness,
Forsaking the tender embrace of compassion for the cold certainty of being right,
Clinging to a fragile mantle woven from threads of egotism,
As if their faith could ennoble their identity with divine approval.
In the sacred sanctuary of belief, they build altars to their own image,
Domesticated echoes of God's infinite transcendence,
Reduced to comforting whispers that mirror their desires,
Learning of the Divine as children learn of Santa Claus,
Yet allowing those notions to ossify, remaining infantile and unchallenged.
Oh, irony, as we cast aside Santa’s joyful illusions,
Maturing our visions of myth and childhood fantasy,
While our understanding of the Eternal remains in the naivety of youth,
Unprepared to confront the vast, untamed wilderness of divine transcendence.
Here, in the labyrinth of our minds, echoes of childlike perceptions resonate,
Yet the true divine is an unfathomable abyss, a dance of shadows and light,
Beyond the gilded cages of our self-fashioned sanctity,
A whisper in the wind, a flame in the depths of night.
We baptize our egos in holy waters, seeking absolution for our vanities,
Enshrining our beliefs in stone, unwilling to weather the storms
That might erode our crafted idols, revealing the raw, untempered truth,
Which asks not for our righteousness, but for the tenderness of a compassionate heart.
In this silent pilgrimage through the chambers of our soul,
We must unshackle the Divine from our limited grasp,
Allowing the boundless to flow, to mingle with the currents of our existence,
To guide us through the dark waters of humility and grace.
Let us not forget, in our zeal to be right, the gentle call of compassion,
The holy whisper that beckons us beyond ourselves,
To embrace the transient and the eternal, the darkness and the dawn,
For in that sacred embrace, we find the wondrous, ineffable face of true divinity.
Thus, in the quiet of twilight, among the shadows of our beliefs,
We are called to transcend our domesticated notions,
To embark on a journey of deeper understanding,
Where compassion and humility lead us to the heart of the Infinite,
And righteousness melts away in the light of true and boundless love.
Cold is the heart unkind
Untempered by the sun
Hollow and mercy blind
Celebrated by none
Bright is the heart afire
Splendor that blinds the sun
Hallowed and sweet desire
Cherished by everyone