Best Unthought Of Poems
Written: December 11, 2023
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Intricate depiction of a being?
That a single hand could create
Beneficial matters can be evanescent
When built out of yielding clay?
Molded into fiction, scales, and tails
In terms of creative process,
Ground and airborne entities
Morph into unthought-of shapes.
A refined intellect creates ephemera
Quickly under a gentle moonlight
I'm floating in the swaying elevator
Regarding heavenly breezes.
Hair converts into poet-trees from poetry
Yet untamed ideas are captivated
With the spirals and knuckles
Brilliant sculptor's vision and decision.
lifting our minds into untamed sight
Those who grasp this routine are lucky
And the beholders of moonbeam dreams
Pursue the path that moves the heart.
Forgotten you
As your mind collects the memories of yesterday
Forgotten You
Epiphanies tie into knotty strings of realization
That very moment. . .
You merely exist
Back then. . .those smiles
Those. . .distant laughs
Some you remember by name
Gone now maybe
Like the exhalation of the wind
Others dispersed in the world of arbitrary happening
Like leaves from falling, man-made trees
There is no doubt that they have
Forgotten you
Activate the bomb
Ignite the fuse
And you’re on next year’s history book
Never forgotten
But drained of all remaining good
That smile you gave
That happiness
The warm embrace so long ago
Salt-coated with piles of rubbish
Over last remaining mental spurts of comfort
Evil, evil, evil, evil, EVIL. . .
Always absorbed and remembered
. . .though never forgiven. . .
All good and gracious sentiments
Packed up in a box set nonchalantly in Downstair’s storage
. . .that chair with the broken leg in the corner of the room
That mangled cobweb holding a dangling, lifeless spider
A drowned sailor’s hat drifting through the current of the ocean
The single tear from a soldier’s vigilant, memory-stricken eye
The frustrating thoughts of a mute
The unchanged. . .HATED deformations
Forgotten you. . .
One soul brings to light weary, unthought-of happenings
Wedged deep into what she can only imagine
With not even a hint of understanding
. . .of the pain. . . .of the bewildering distortions
Of the ugly. . .
One soul merely vomits sickly verse after verse
As humanity embraces its downfall
The poet hangs onto her unjustifiable, forgotten. . .
Words
It was a woodcut in our high school history text, Unit 4 Beginnings of the
Modern World, that so disturbed,
from the Nuremburg Chronicles depicting the burning of the Jews, flat
perspective,
faces of the victims among flames, in no particular agony, not especially
Jewish,
during the Black Death 1/3 of Europe died 1347-1351 alone. Although
you die together you die alone.
Earlier that week, I had attended our 6th grade's performance of Fiddler on
the Roof, thinking
Coltrane should have recorded Matchmaker as a bookend to My
Favorite Things
but as the play darkened
with the town's absorption into the diaspora, democracy
yet unthought of and rule of law a fig leaf for authority
Jasper, who played Zero Mostel, delivered his line well to the effect
you're just doing your jobs while wrecking our lives.
Anyway, nothing like that is happening here, is it?
The gardener planting tomatoes, the gravedigger finding skulls,
there is so much life a little death won't matter.
Jasper
was a beautiful ham,
big as Zero.
A friend posed
this question: must all states be melting pots like the United States?
I said yes
not because they should but since
it's inevitable. Let labor flow like capital!
America was the last word of the play and brought a tear of pride to my
eye.
Immigration, exasperating argument re the Other.
How many's more than enough? 9 billion, a rational,
real number that exceeds or
we're convinced
is within the carrying capacity of the planet.
Climate change is the new Black Death.
I like the Amerindian body type and face mixed in with the European,
African.
The irrepressible economy rolls out reams of logs, ores of elements, bags
of ice, fields of rice.
Embargo. The moon stares, bare, full of interstellar space.
Better a cold shoulder than a visit from our military.
The crazy Nazis must have felt themselves extraordinarily compassionate
toward the mother, earth, the goddess, history, or some such
abstraction and, thus, acted on a fraction of all they did not know.
Selfless soldiers just doing their jobs guarding the border or,
on the other hand, collecting fagots for the burning of the Jews.
This isn't real, this feeling is slowly consuming me in ways unthought of for a humambeing.
He will not serve in my heart, no way, I rebuke and refuse to accept that fact of it being.
Go away and don't come back cause no one likes you.
You take life, left and right and have no remorse like you don't got a clue.
You took her from me, and I will never forget that, but little did you know I will see her again.
She will smile that beautiful smile at me once again and you will not be able to breath again.
You will suffocate in my success and glory,
God got my back like no other and we know we will prevail like a perfect story.
So hold on to your seat because it will be a short ride for you.
I will break free from this deseas you placed upon me, that depression will die, you just don't
Have a clue.
You re-house Machiavelli’s soul in your foul frame
That soul great guides your head and heart;
Not what you learnt from the kitabs
Beacon to you is Lucifer’s own light.
With verisimilitude unseen,
With finesse unthought of,
You pose as a Judhishtir.
But Dharmaputra, I know you
Engineer mischief meanest.
You are the mid-husband of
Old rustic plot,
Vile stinking villain
You know not- unhiegynically you rot.
Honeydew on the grass sparkles with life as the Sun comes up shining.
Way up yonder the Horizon’s preparing for its glorious arising.
Purple, blue and gray radiantly come together and all stand out alone,
Way up under this great big earthly dome.
Bird’s shadows fly at distances, yet each distinct by their flocks belted,
And each disappears away in colorful misty skies where all of them roam!
Beauty in foresight is clearly seen on this perfect unthought-of day,
Even to my own likings of a surprising.
Too compelling just knowing that all days are counted by,
Each exact group already individualized by being numbered!
Foliage secretes from its many branches of trees per several hundreds.
All with there own story to make known to the unknown.
Consistently re-budding as season’s change to each one that is now arising.
All seeming to prepare for that God-awful battle called Armageddon.
Years pass on and still the Sun comes onto the horizon.
Life’s at a standstill, yet, steadily ticking with the hands of time to carry on.
Nothing can be done to stop the cycle of our Earth’s creation.
For every beginning there is and ending as it is to see
Dawning is “The Sun on the Horizon”!
Be thankful that you have this very day,
For the Sun is rising upon the horizon,
What a wonderful liaison!
®Registered: Ann Rich 2001
A beep!! Message inbox queued
Bring around his sleepy-eyes
The night prowler came alive.
Last night’s morning sayonara smack
Later left with unrequited calls.
Message through network by amorist, said,
‘Hoped if u were here beside,
I wud have rest my arms upon u
N wud slp t8 until U wake me up
4m my woolgathering’.
A morning tea and breakfast
First lecture bunked and second lecturer’s incomplete task
Noon show lunch break and evening CCD on the way.
McD snacks together
Only left with dinner, back to home.
Clock ticked dinner time
Her cell beeped, ‘ honey calling you at midn8’.
FM on, light music quenched the dimmed room
A gentle breeze left with thoughtful blossom.
A miss call alert, so called a reminder –
Afresh mood and respond back
Two rings for that awaited hands to answer
A muted ‘Hello’, and both felt back.
Retrieved day dilation and few imaginary soul kisses in between
Blurred with further topic, exchanged dally romance
Yet sounded reality.
Eyes closed and more audible muted talks
Aleatory future plans,
Queried by an unthought-of waiting call.
A new topic now, ‘ who was it?’
Unknown number so whether is that to be left aside??
Tentative soul mate yet in a dedicated tone
Questions rained and situation falsified
Might be a secret that to be hide.
Coped modishly and eyes left with few drops of water
A penitent kiss followed.
Things now became thicker,
The soft music echoed through the network
Snap up pillow and twisted moves
Extend of imagination seemed
Fetched them more closely.
Awaken dad knocked
Cell phone averted and her hammy sleepy-eyes
Fooled begetter proved not to be a dictator.
Excused candidly and led off with next day’s plan
The good night dawn and jaded eyes
An argument who would cut the line…..
Lastly a fanciful tight hug and a sayonara kiss
Left again with another, beep!!
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When I ask Thou:
Oo…Love
Where are Thou from
and where will we go to ?
Then Thou answer:
Oo…my lover
I am from the big bang deep down in your heart.
My presence is like a lovely white speck
which spouts out from
and then overflows
the black hole of your transitory life
and together with you
we will go to the purely different world
which has no space, time or relativity,
no dream and also no desire,
no-think and nothing.
And somehow or other you do not know it now
we certainly will live in the unthought-of realm happily
and will never die
The sun doesn’t rise in these terrible skies
The world was in ruins once
Some kind of beautiful
Hell sat around us
Just you and me
This was the saddest
The truth could be
It was like yesterday didn’t matter
Only a banjo
A fiddler and untouched strings
Do you remember
It was some kind of beautiful
Lovely was a disastrous sport
And futbol was a feeling
Cigarettes ran from touch
Smoke came as a form of trust
And hope remained a potion of bad luck
Do you remember when hell sat around us
Tomorrow was unthought-of
We were fishing for the blues
Day light in sunny nights
A harvest moon
A picnic with apples
Oranges and tomatoes ripe
A midseason delight
Can you guess who’s home
We were just about human again
"metaphors, cliche's, & no one else"
You see I felt a presence when you were sleeping next to me like you were guarded by some sort of angel that made me want to cry because my heart couldn't fathom how I a girl so empty and broken could be as lucky to be yours and have you as mine.
Finally it's begun to make sense why your name is in the bible,or even why you have a whole book in the bible infact,because you deserve a special place in my heart and that's something you'll always have and more.
We called it redamancy and we laughed at how we kept finding words to describe what we had,what we have,you know....something like serendipity my favourite word right next to your name.
As much as we keep finding these words to describe the love we share for each other deep down we both know that this love we have is unthought of and could never be defined
As I look down at my bloody knuckles,
Crying tears of agony my eyes refused to shed,
I realised how pointless it was
How pointless to pretend, to believe.
My hand trembles as I pen this,
The flow of words, more powerful than any strike,
My one solace, my get away.
When I look around,
I see the faces of my tormentors,
Jeering at me,
Accusing me of crimes unthought of.
I delve deeper into my pain,
My fury- my agonising drug.
As I build up my walls,
Look my tormentors in the eyes and say: 'bring it on!'
Love is a many faceted thing, it is multi faceted thing, it is alive.
More then an emotion, more then an energy, more then a spirit
Love is a living thing, it breaths in the hearts of men
It moves them to the highest heights and yet to the deepest depths
It causes men to do things unthought of, unheard of,
It causes them to dream things beyond the ability to dream.
Love is wonderful, yet love can be destructive,
Love never lets go, yet can let go in a moment of time,
Constantly reaching, constantly pursuing, constantly feeling,
Constantly going beyond all limits, beyond all hopes.
When do you know you are in love?
When you know you have reached beyond the boundries of your own heart,
And have broken into another, piercing the very depths of their soul.
Speaking words so lightly, so fully, so unforgettably real.
Making a connection, a union of two hearts and two souls.
Love is what makes the world go round and it is so profound, it fills us so full.
Love brings us such a strength, love gives purpose, and the power to fulfill it.
Whispering
thoughts to one's idlest fancy,
Imagining feelings
to one's innermost soul.
Babbling inanities,
crying insanities,
Wondering, wandering
alone and alone.
Where does it take one,
where does it want one,
where does it seduce one
along the strange source
of forbidden mysteries,
of unexplored paths,
of untouched feelings,
of ecstasies unknown,
or unthought of.
Where will it end?
Sometimes it seems all the love songs have already been written;
No new ways for “I love you” are left to be said.
Sometimes it seems all the love plays have already been scripted,
And all the love sonnets have already been read.
Then when you are with me I know that can’t be true;
There must be love songs that have not passed any one's throat.
The love I feel for you never before has been experienced;
There must be some unsung love musical notes.
Sometimes it seems all the love poems have already been thought of;
No love words are left yet to be rhymed.
Sometimes it seems all the love phrases have already been whispered;
No new sayings can new lovers find.
Then when you kiss me I know that I must be the first one
To ever feel love as deeply as I do.
And so there must be some way unthought-of
To express just how much I love you.
When the thought of you comes
My heart pinches me still
With my voice, in silence I scream
My mind is a hunted house that host your ghost day by day
A constant reminder of the day I left
I wish to come but my legs are heavy
Heavy with the thoughts of your mother’s reaction, your sister’s grim look, your brothers rage, and my saying sorry to every cynical hello from your families and friends
So,
I stand at the Junction
Where the road to your house and mine meets
Walking to and fro but never reaching your house