Best Unversed Poems
Hell belches out more black-hearted ballads
than the accord of heaven that releases
only the innocent and wafting
lofty dreamings of a population
unversed in the ways of emotion.
They simper and insipidly bow and release
delicate praises to the air as perfume... oh joyful
white roses. Sweetly sing with your monotonous harpischords.
Not we.
We are the fire in the blackest midnight...
the mud that births monsoons of a terrible beauty.
We tremble lest our own fire overtake us, we are the torrents
that pain your face with every gleefull beat.
We are the dreamers of dreams.
We are lovers, burning holes in sheets of purity and
invincible morality... we scream and shiver to our toes...
oh haunting electricity.
We are intense anger... the fury of emperors untold...
we shatter our enemies into the oblivion they beg for mercy
fists bulging, contorted eyes stinging from the battle.
We are howls of bitter triumph, the sweet partakers of the
lost cause. We are brazen to the thought.
We are the aroma of sadness that arises from the blackest pit,
we are the oppression that snuffs out the candle.
We praise from the very depths of our cavernous abyss
our own masochistic knowledge... the fiery knowledge that burns us
as we consume ourselves.
SONNET PATHETIQUE
So sad Peter Ilyich; such anguished strife!
What is the tragic loss for which you grieve
An unforgot dark chapter in your life
So you must wear your heart upon your sleeve
That noble face that should exult your art
Betrays a tortured soul unversed with joy
In music, minor key takes greater part
D’you fear that signs of happiness would cloy
Yet oft, light breaks the gloom of dark dimension
Penumbra, pierced by ray of bliss, dispersed
And we discern the soul of your invention
Who bless the days you o’er this world traversed
That in our hearts it should have given gladness
For such sublime, exquisite, beauteous sadness
I had survived how many summers? Five?
Six? 'til, self-taught, I learned at last
of terror that lurks in situations
which those I trust (myself included)
would swear offer only perfect safety...
My ball rolled under my Grandma's house
and I, well-guarded, scuttered after to retrieve it,
mindless of the tarry soil fleeced with fluffy,
small red feathers, newly molted by matrons:
hens that clucked contentment,
set upon their hidden egg troves.
Spying their nests, I thought to rob them
and so earn a Grandma's love for a city boy
unversed in country ways. Thinking, I acted,
reaching for a nest unoccupied,
half hid behind a house block.
I closed my soft, expectant hand
upon a wriggling creature coiled among the eggs,
drew back like lightning to watch
a brightly spotted snake slide off
into the farther, deeper darkness
amid a squall of squawks.
Emerging empty handed, terrified,
it wasn't Grandma's love I earned that day.
I have always since encountered similar brilliant colored
dangers whenever I have thought to grab,
for myself or others, unclaimed treasures
in strange places, in warmer or in cooler weathers.
Our first kiss whetted my hunger and thirst
I was a budding rose at your first touch
Love bloomed in the garden for me that night
With such affection, my heart was unversed
Romance 'neath a full moon... there was so much
starlight.
Passion claimed my senses; our love extol,
I'd never known such glorious delight
You gave me strength when I needed a crutch
As if I had wings, my body and soul
Took flight.
November 6, 2020
Sara Kendrick's The Speaker Contest
A babe in arms, who knows no sin,
A mothers love for only him.
A carefree shopper, enjoying the day,
Each not knowing what may come their way.
A young man yet unversed in life,
A teenage girl longs to be a wife.
A down and out, drunk on meths,
Each not knowing their impending deaths.
A cyclist peddling for all his worth,
A boy and his mates so full of mirth.
A policeman's lot maybe not a happy one,
Each not knowing they may soon be gone.
A man, overdressed in the July heat goes by,
A rooftop sniper, watching, knows just why.
He raises his sights, his target cannot be missed,
His aim is true, a bombers head becomes red mist.
© Dave Timperley 2014
They go the way they come
the way that would always make tears drop
silently, or with a wail
by the air, or by that they left behind
they go the way they come
toothless and helpless; all, but not their heart
strong, willed so promising
without the strength of their hands and feet
illogical, unreal
all the thoughts that thriftily pass their minds
unversed to us, "normalized"
squarely straight to us like in algebra
they go the way they come
without asking, nor with permission
and thus, this blood, this tear
would always flow, like cold rain, drip
today, the next, the rest
they chose to go just how they came
"Complex Of Swerves"
When one has a tender heart
And a heart real and true,
Being among fake, callous hearts,
Is a difficult thing to do.
When one has a giving heart
And so, gives generously,
Being among the predators,
Is a dangerous place to be.
When one has a caring heart
With empathy and compassion,
They get treated like those who,
The opposite, keep in fashion.
When one has an honest heart,
Where truth reigns supreme,
The liars spin their lies as truth,
Make the honest like liars, seem.
When one has a humble heart
And choose to put others first,
Attention grabbers take advantage,
Steal recognition even if unversed.
Is it any wonder why so many then will choose
As their path of life, the one traveled most,
Where character of quality one cares not if they lose,
Settle for mediocrity, as their lesser on, they coast?
To cultivate integrity in the present world,
With all the traits of human blackness being shown,
Is an act of bravery when all that's being hurled
Is the vileness of humanity so many seem to hone.
It's rough to be a person genuine and sincere;
Choosing to be honest and mean what you say,
When all you'll get is categorized with a sneer
Among those superficial as their chosen way.
Staying on the right path takes a whole lot of guts;
Requires determination, based on values all but lost.
It's a maze lined every which way with many toxic juts;
With quicksand awaiting where sinfulness is glossed.
All the human vultures and the wolves dressed as sheep
Around every twist and bend, in hollows and in curves,
Lurking, ready, waiting for another soul to reap
Makes survival in this world a Complex Of Swerves.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-06-08 06:10:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.
I was paving towards the old banyan tree
Where the moonlight was cursed
To these solitary paths my heart was unversed
Fear embraced and didn`t let me go free.
The hanging roots were a witch`s hair
The mournful leaves tickled my hands
And my legs ran errands
The scene created looked rare
Then when I touched the expressive stem
I was pushed to a brightly lit place
Where every creature dazzled with grace
And worn a crown of an innocent gem.
Still a found a love in their heart
No stains of selfishness I found
With joy and glee I was bound
An unearthly place I found just few metres apart.
I murmured," Where the hell I am, in dark beams?"
A voice replied,"Its a place where you stepped at your will recently
And you will leave soon and with a smile,decently
Its a world you weave, its your creativity, its a world of dreams".
Intoxication pierces through
Purest form of the drug
Pumping through veins
Heart beating faster
Hammering harder and harder
Breathing out of control
Pulling at hair
A high close to overdose
Eyes roll back
Ecstasy spreads in the core
Tickling as it moves
Gripping chest
Pounding near explosion
Gasping for air
Shadows surround for battle
Awaiting surrender
Unable to focus
Beyond a control
Body relinquishes power
Heart ruptures
Hyperventilation til unconscious
Death of one
Bound anew
Fused immortality
Bliss undescribed, unversed
Swells, boils, over pours
Seeping inside and out
Unity with another being
Understood and accepted
Mentally puzzled
Unable to digest
The possibility of being found
Such is a soul that is divine
Great inspiration the spiritual immaterial part
Immortal soul's journey through unversed starts
Such is a soul that is divine/ I AM A SOUL I AM DIVINE
~
Regarded believed death is just
One step in a sensational holy empyrean
Such is a soul that is divine
Holiness breathe aloud/ I AM A SOUL I AM DIVINE
~
My vessel’s filled with sublime ecclesiastic reverence
Feeling emotion passion enthusiasm, celestial seraphic
Such is a soul so divine confessing's/ I AM A SOUL I AM DIVINE
~
Angelic fervor ardor vivacity
Spiritual heavenly celestial deiform capacity
Such is a soul that is divine
~
Grandeur pageantry at naught,
this universe hasn’t seen the last of me
I am truest self-contained energy…
Such is mine soul that is divine/ I AM A SOUL I AM DIVINE
For “A Soul is Divine “Poetry Contest
Free verse poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Mohan Chutani
6/26/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
Placed 6th place in contest
"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry." — Mary Oliver
Inside the conscious mind of each poet
dwells stupendous and sundry thoughts.
They can escape as daydreams or nightmares
but sometimes, we capture them on paper
to share with the rest of the world.
We can record our exciting moments
yet also express our fears and failures.
We can create marvelous fantasies -
words to inspire the productivity of others.
It’s neat when we get our notions written down.
It's then our heads are cleared to make room
every day for more unversed ideas.
Best of all we have a hard copy
of past thoughts to read when a spark
within our own minds asks for remembrance.
November 29, 2022
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Contest: poetry is a life cherishing force 20169
Beneath the astral sky, where quiet sings,
I muse on days of love and painful things.
A question stirs, dear father, guiding star,
Am I a fool to open wide my heart?
O Father, from afar, please steer my way,
As once again, I feel I might stray,
To one whose former faults had left their mark,
And tore apart my trusting, tender heart.
In youth, I faltered, stumbled in the night,
My heart unversed in love's restricting sight.
But time has marched, and now my thoughts have bloomed,
Could I revive what once was assumed doomed?
Thrice have I tread this well-worn path of love,
And yet, unsure again, I find myself shoved
Toward a love that may not last the night,
Do I act with folly or with grace?
Do I yield to love that marred my face?
Are we, like daffodils that bend and whirl,
Transformed by time, love's wisdom to unfurl?
For love, relentless, sometimes blinds the view,
To the harsh truth that kindness may eschew.
Father, guide me through this boundless maze,
Help me navigate this transient phase.
I seek solace in the truth of love's demise,
Let it rest in peace, forever, by the wayside.
Gone are the splendours of simplicity
when youth and innocence did life portend;
now my days are filled by complexity
and sweet utopian dreaming at an end.
Thus I am not a man unversed in sin
nor a beguiled fool to splendorous love -
truly within I feel unforgiven
and each sober thought this reminds me of.
Soul-destroying are the long stolen years -
its conscious slow death, its visceral grief
that cheats me of all my passions and cares
and robs my identity like a thief.
I am alive and broke no hallowed vow
but cold the kiss of fate upon my brow.
Written: October 1991
*Image of Music Heart by Pixabay.
A Heart's Melody
Harmony palpitates...conducts the abandoned chamber,
albeit, interludes providently...kept in tune with themselves.
The metered winks...influencing oneness to soothe and rise.
The cloud nine reviewed....negotiating remembrances
of "Each and All", the "Earth Song" by Emerson...a ballad medley.
Unversed preexistence...reminiscence, rekindled charge.
Harp rhythms veinuous strings strumming...as the organ pedals.
Some rhapsodical soul...repeatedly ensures an airy suite.
Rehearsed pulses...convey themselves as an opening night.
Calm sounds reflect symmetry...hallowed core pleasures a theme
donning inner expressions...grants the life-timers brevity's blinks.
Solemn occasions the welcomed psalm...heartfelt gifts its claim.
Juxtaposed rapture instants...contrariety absent
of muted aches for a quiver...contrite hands fold into prayers,
beckoned Heaven's gate perseverance...angels heralding.
Unsung Heavenly cadences extend...stead the swan song
that left open--an invitation...as internal hope vibrates,
a renewed life has been rewarded...the heartbeat pipes true.
2022 December 09
*9th Place*
Thought rested awareness
~~Unseeking Seeker
*HM*
SECOND CHANCE FOR YOUR N-A
~~Brian Strand: Judging 2022 December 19
*HMS.
November rains pour from the sky,
seated near window my thoughts cry,
damp, cold weather and island life,
memories hurt – like a knife,
water bubbles gets swell and burst,
deep red autumn hues are my thirst.
Flocks of wintering birds fly high,
warm sense grows in my inward eye,
these birds console my inner strife,
heart starts paying a tune from fife,
birds from homeland flying unversed,
reveal autumn – grief reversed.
Wrote for Lay November Poetry Contest
20th November 2020
Sponsored by – William Kekaula
Rhyming verified with www.rhymezone.com
Number of syllables verified with www.howmanysyllables.com
Grammar verified with PS Grammar check