Best Unwisely Poems


Premium Member The Curse of the Dead Sea

The Curse of the Dead Sea

Dark ghosts traveling through the chilled air mist
where rare rough rivers, eddied and revolved, in
twists around into a violent, furious funnel offshore,
as this turbulent salt sea of iniquity opens up its storied,
salted bowels with its turgid moving fluids drowning
into a space of predestined bedded death—for all who
unknowingly venture into the embrace of the Dead Sea.

For knoweth that Poseidon, the ancient god of the sea,
may not be there in time to spare thy life that be in the
fatal grip of this salted deadly destiny, and its jeopardy,
as it’s written in the “riddle of sands” that remain blowing
as this earthly desert speaks to thee, spiced by the coldest
of raindrops carried on winds held deep within, as dark
clouds escape with their droplets running down into the
mountain “waters of life” that feed and form an evil river
that pulsates through the deep veins of existence, as drums
inside heartbeats play to a harmonious harp filled with a
mystic music dancing to visions of a salted angel who lives
deep within the Dead Sea.

Falling throughout the depths of time in the history of this
ancient sea of sure death, are grains of sand and pure white
salt which hold misted gems that speak to each and every
human footprint, leaving an imprinted, indelible image true, 
behind the frame left crowned in the deep well of a forlorn,
shimmering pond that presciently knoweth that this ancient
Dead Sea, with its “salt of the sand” shall explain to you,
in kind, of the dangers that lurketh within the waters of its
salted, deadly grip, if thou chooseth unwisely to venture in
knowingly or unknowingly.

For Poseidon shall not be there in this “modern age” to 
saveth thee and thy immortal soul!

Amen.    

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – December 16, 2018
(Narrative)

Premium Member Too Many Yesterdays

In what haunt hath hope,
he who in solitude,
weeps into soiled palms;
calloused by that labor
desolate of redemption.
Leathered and wrinkled
by ever so recent a passage 
of too many yesterdays.

In what haunt hath hope
those tears shed in anguish
amidst gales unrelenting
which snatch at birth
and toss into oblivion.
Unmarked is the course
across age weary cheeks
drooping under the weight
of too many yesterdays.

O miserly fates
how hollow thy prize
no less, at so great a cost.
Greatness is lonely,
my soul for a kingdom
bartered so unwisely
from dust to ash
and the shimmering
to rust by the reckoning
of too many yesterdays.

In what haunt hath hope
such beggarly ilk
adorned in finery 
beyond dreamscape lux.
Hidden under lavish raiment,
decay of the forsaken
lost even to themselves 
in a calmly rippled wake
of too many yesterdays.

07/03/15

Tombstone Tales

Through graveyard
meandering, just
me and Dad
stories sad
abbreviated down to
mostly names and dates

So we tell
their stories by turns
like poor Duane
Dinwiddie
died at age thirty-three of
bee sting allergy

So tragic
how she caught a chill
Angeline
age nineteen
who died before her wedding
day, her groom grieves still

Or the war
heroes, Frank and Finn
taken in
the prime of
life, no child or wife, they were
just children themselves

Gunther Gold
did what he was told
gullible
on a dare
lost his life to win respect 
bullies didn't care

Bartleby
hypochondriac
cough, sneeze, hack
was ignored
by the whole village, but he
got them back- with plague

Len Kramer
the lion tamer
tried to save
his wife when
she unwisely came in, but-
got eaten instead

Philetus
on flying trapeeze
an ace- the
very best
until he had to sneeze- then
sadly laid to rest

Then Daddy
looks at me and I
look at him
giving in
to sudden gales of laughter
glad to be alive



(NOTE: Although I listed this as a Free Verse, it is actually in Shadorma form...)


Unbalanced Hypocrisy


Sell the kinetic death metal,
see the swivel profits 
zooming to the stratosphere
Bloody schoolyard body count
is the cost of doing armed ant-farm business
Collateral damage is the soulless audit estimation
Bottom feeders at the algae low end of the food chain,
eat shell casing scraps
tossed by an unbalanced, warfare Great White nation — 
Shark DNA with a ravenous capitalist avarice attitude,
saying: Keep silent minnow sheep,
don’t be fearful of the palpable lead ricochet sensation  
As the automatic spark-bark dog manufacturers
howl that the Second Amendment is your security salvation
They constantly belch 
that only the mentally ill 
unwisely use their adult toys to murder-kill
While they lobby their pet politicians
to bullet execute any national health care bill
Such a vomit reminder 
of regurgitated vile hypocrisy
We’re always told 
that only the mentally sick 
create the carnage from guns
As the death metal lap dog politicians
close more mental institutions
by not providing government funds
Unbalanced hypocrisy ...
lunatic leadership
of high place dark principalities
Green-covered gold lust of Roman greed proportion
guides their immoral decision-making
And the blood flowing in the Republic streets,
those Terminator weapons 
will pump-action human life keep taking

A Love Not Given

The sweetest love I ever knew,
Was a secret love not given.
A sublimating ecstasy--
A symphony from Heaven. 
                                           
A verb without an object;   
A means without an end.
A jasmine scented sweetness
On the summer evening wind.
                                           
One fleeting season of my life,
Of throbbing, tender glory,
When on the pages of the book
Was penned an unread story. 
                                           
Then, deep within my virgin heart,
Unscarred by love vows wasted,
Dwelt dreams of  rapture yet unknown, 
Of vintage wine untasted.   
                                           
But then, as happens with all fools,
There came the tragic day, 
When, to the sorrow of my soul,
I gave my love away.
                                           
Now, love unwisely given
Is, often, love refused.
Like a rose rejected by the wind,
Shattered, crushed and bruised.
                                                           
If only, now, the power were mine
That blossom to enliven, 
It would bloom again within my soul,
That glorious love not given.

Premium Member The Fish from Differing Schools of Thought

In one big ocean were many schools of fish. Most of them were nice in their own ways, but this is the story of two types of schools of fish very different in their ways of thinking. One school of fish was fond of mesmerizing things such as the colorful lures the fishermen  sometimes used as bait. Although they often got caught by fishermen, they still preferred swimming in the shallow waters. It was as if they did it by instinct and could see no other way to be. They also loved being part of the larger crowd of fishes in the ocean. They even followed the more popular schools of fish around because they wanted nothing more than to be popular as well. The popular schools of fish were sometimes quite flashy and beautiful, but so easy to be seen by the sharks that lurked close by. 

Swimming in much deeper waters were schools of fish with different behaviors from the more popular  schools. The deep-swimming fish seemed by instinct to know that they should hide behind rocks and plant life when danger was lurking, and they stayed clear of the shallow waters. They understood somehow that sharks more often attack above thirty feet rather than in the great depths of the ocean. These schools of peculiar fish were not flashy. Neither were they popular. However, they did not get caught as often by the fishermen who came from land in search of fish.

One day the hateful sharks, rulers of the mighty ocean, got together and went on a huge expedition to capture and eat as many fish as they could find. They would circle unsuspecting fish, capture them and then devour them mercilessly. The schools of fish in the ocean’s depths mostly escaped this day of entrapment. The sharks continued their attacks, growing more and more aggressive day by day as time went on. It was not long before many of the popular schools of fish were dwindling in the ocean. More and more, all fish seemed to be learning it was wiser to swim deeper.

Moral: Unwisely schooled, more easily fooled.


Premium Member The Creature From the Black Lagoon

In the cradled of life's dark garden,
It dwells amongst the murky waters
Primeval,
Behold the creature from the black lagoon.
Nay what is this creation, neither fish or 
Reptile.
Yet a blending of both, a high bread's mixture,
Intelligent, and cunning, the last of his species,
To survive.
Brought unwisely did men, bring beauties
Forbidden fruit, unto this lost oasis of Eden.
For alone sentinel awaits to partake in such
A luscious morsel.
So does it not say in biblical text, go forth
And multiply, by a driven basic instinct he
Cautiously watches from the thicket brush.
What a graceful motion moves within the
Jungles domain, 
She swims idle caught unaware, the bride
To be herself, charms him with every stroke
Across this lake placid.
With Chameleon like stealth, the groom appears,
Taking his prize to their cavey honeymoon retreat.
So tenderly he greets his mate, from shocks
Dreamy like state she awakes, and recoils in repulsion.
No love's scorn, and tragedies broken heart,
Can do more damage than rejections expulsion.
Bullets may have cut the flesh to the bone,
But was it not beauty, which killed the beast,
And the last sight he saw, was his love in
Another's arms.
So ends natures final verse in this evolutionary
Experiment,
The creature from the black lagoon now lies
Dead, upon this tragic stage of life.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.

What Have You Done To Me

Oh what have you done to me,
A city built in the name of Christ.

When an earthquake struck,
Destroying all my pretty clothing
And shaking  the flesh off all my bones.
Leaving only my skeletal frame ,
Half submerged in sewerage raw
And liquefaction adding to my woes,
Threatening to make me completely disappear.

No one with water to spare as I began to choke
On air now so foul.

When you felt safe to come out and see my plight,
You drew lots for my last vestments of dignity, 
Before inviting others in to help you pick over my bones.
You even looked the other way when the Vultures started gathering.

You filled my streets with low life's and vermin knee deep.
And patched my broken bones with cheap plaster.
Watching as those who yet stood by me grew weak,
Bled dry by insurance companies and their red tape, con artists, 
And Cowboys posing as builders,
Supplied by rip-off merchants of every description,
All overseen by government official with no idea what to do,
Except find ways to spend their money unwisely.

You raised $50 million dollars to build a playground
For children without proper homes and not enough food to eat.
Another ten or so million was found to build a marble wall 
In memory of of those who fell beside me as the earthquake struck.
Do you think that will give them eternal rest.

No future do I see worth having here,
Can you not just let me sleep,
So Christ can rebuild his beloved garden city,
Away from this foul swamp,
Filled with indifference and despair,
That the rest of the country has left to rot.

Across the Shadows, Athwart the Dark

While we all fallen, asleep
words collasped, howling and weep
Minutes losing, to the night
so glory, even shadows are divine.

The shadows of the dying moon
Reminiscing, the time of Rune,
too close, too soon.
The fire of the dying sun
Sing the song that be unsung.
The life of a dying man
Often regret and reject
of time unwisely spend.

Across the shadows, athwart the dark.
Last thing I saw, was the hope in your birthmark.
Against the stream, into the woods.
Owls hooting, trees whispering, 
lasting like they should.

At the gate of sleep, one last time
Hear the weep, like bells chime.
Harrowing years come and gone, beware.
The fall of new beginning, 
happens from those who never care.
© James Hou  Create an image from this poem.

Three Blind Mice a Parody

Three Blind Mice (Parody)

Three blind mice, Three blind mice
Unwisely they ran after the farmer’s wife
Who decapitated their tails with a carving knife
Did you ever see such atrocity in your life
With three blind Mice
© Kevin Shaw  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member BiCulturing Passion Seeds

We are born remembering
DNA's sacred syntax,
cryptic receipts with multigenerational redemption value,
to redeem integrity through this incarnation's
fully functional root and crown potential 

For ecological
politically co-intelligent
co-operative economic practice
with polyculturally unconditional intent

Mutual subsidiarity of peace 
compassioning just rightness
declared only through solidarity 
in co-prehensive 
leftbrain consciousness.

Who are these would be CoRedemptive Mentors
stalking my multi-regenerational mirror?
Tempted by good and evil
I reconnect MotherEarth's suffering 
to monotheistic FatherSun's not listening,
steadfastly ambivalent feelings
ambidextrously languaged

Riding Time's enculturing edge
flying forward for hope of better
stronger
surer lasting light,
fleeting backward darkening doubtful powers
to change what I cannot compassionately tolerate
to fulfill EarthJustice commitments together
as we might
were Anthros not a lone Redeemer 
anti-hero monoculture

Prophets without sufficient Time 
for holy spirit's embryonic forms 
flowing full-natured unction.

This present makes a safer home
than future's pregnant womb
or past's enslaving RoyalAnthro tomb
severing analogical revolutions 
apart
rather than preserving integrity's resolutions 
together.

Double-bound
stigmatic 
messiah wounds

Breathing in Earth's first breath
while dying out Ego's already last,
stifling my victorious solo shout
"not yet...not yet" out

My mythic time 
portends mystery's co-redeeming climax
without embracing Beloved EarthTribe's
sacred sensory resonance.

Redeemer musing Heart
mediating fragile warring Mind
against unwisely breaking Body,
our Trinitarian Teleology 

As messianic restitution
perpetually rides 
Earth's suffering surf
of almost pregnant paradise.

Zero Tolerance In Schools

Zero Tolerance at Schools

By Elton Camp

It began with a federal law about bringing guns to school
That offenders must be expelled was the ironclad rule

Then, unwisely, local officials the policy vastly expanded
For drugs, aggression, and other things, expulsion demanded

The intention behind these regulations may have been good
School officials couldn’t be trusted to enforce as they should

Because the regulations by modern Dracos had been written,
Students, for childish behavior, with expulsion were smitten

A six-year-old, happy at joining the cub scouts, ruined his life
Because he brought to school camping stuff: spoon, fork, knife

Because of his heinous crime, zero tolerance enforced the rule
He got a suspension and spent forty-five days in reform school

A retarded child for “strong-armed robbery” was arrested
He stole two dollars and in adult jail for six weeks rested

Only when a CBS “60 Minutes” crew came to report the case
Were the ridiculous charges then dismissed with greatest haste

What very desperately needs to be done, it seems to me,
Is a zero tolerance policy for school officials’ stupidity
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member It's a Crying Shame

George Washington would never believe it and call it a crying shame. I have observed the prohibition of prayer in public schools. Free speech is not free but is for sale to the highest bidder. Moreover, there is an attitudinal atmosphere suggesting that any speech that is not my own should be abridged, censured, or abolished. Traditional norms and family values are dropping like flies under the spell of pesticides. The Bible is considered to be narrow-minded hate-speech. I have seen people terrorized, their civil rights decertified and denied. Moral values have been devalued, set aside, and liquidized; Constitutional rights are diluted, disputed, and no longer solidified. Whatever happened to the great 'thinkers'?  I have noticed the terminal illness and demise of noble ideas. Education is being replaced with political persuasion and propaganda.                                                                           

Abraham Lincoln would never accept it and call it a crying shame. Minority rights are being revised, realigned, reassigned, and redefined. I have witnessed human rights ignored, disregarded, and not prioritized. The cultural revolution is forging ahead in jet-propulsion speed like there is no tomorrow nor time of reckoning. Belief in evolution is man's best hope for a future without accountability. There are no absolutes nor need for resolution. Majority rights are brought into question, unguaranteed, and in retreat. Equal rights are desired but unclarified, undefined, and unobtained. I have beheld the orchestrated disappearance of common sense, and before long we shall be worry-free because 'Big Brother' will always come to our defense. Alien rights are well protected, highly promoted, and unwisely provided. There is a free admittance of subjectivity and the utter rejection of objectivity. I started to weep when I realized that sanity is being burned at the stake. I'm hoping and praying that we return to our senses before it's too late.                                                           

07062018PoSoupContest, Personal Favorite Poem Written In 2018 Poetry 
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire, 5P

Premium Member Lucky

When a fetus or baby, I then could have been:

          Born to mother who died, or with father unknown
          Into poverty born in a nation not free
          With impairments or problems I've never outgrown
          Or by parents aborted if she, not a he.

                    I was lucky

When a child and teenager, I could have been:

           A delinquent or orphan or war refugee
           Or abandoned or crippled, for child labor used
           Without friends, joy, or future or dead from OD
           Or unschooled or deprived or unloved or abused.

                     I was lucky

When full-grown in my prime, I could also have been:

            An inebriate, parasite, vagrant, or jailed
            Or been killed in a war or had not met my wife
            Unemployed or an entrepreneur who had failed
            Or severely depressed or had taken my life.

                      I was lucky

And I could in the decades that followed have been:

            Unexpectedly fired, into bankruptcy forced
            By an accident maimed, watching children go bad
            Or a victim of crime or been sued or divorced
            Or betrayed by a friend, or gone stark, raving mad.

                       I was lucky

With retirement approaching, I then could have been:

            From my children estranged, mourning death of my wife
            Or investing unwisely or homeless or broke
            Having manic disorders or bored with my life
            Or in hospital bed with a cancer or stroke.

                        I was lucky

Over eighty, like many my age I could be:

            With no pension or savings or family left
            Or dependent on charity, begging, or theft
            In a nursing home languishing, sad and confined
            All alone and an invalid, witless, or blind.

                        I am lucky (or blessed)

Premium Member I Am Desire

I am Desire 

I have made some people happy 

I have made others sad 

Some people cannot handle my power 

I am desire- 

I am as hot as a ball of fire 

I am as bright as a shooting star 

I am as small as a grain of sand 

I can be as enormous as a mountain- Desire- 

Touch me- inhale me- incite me- capture 

My essence 

Love me- for I am desire- 

Some people know what to do with me 

Others use me unwisely- 

I am yours for the taking 

Men want to own me 

Women pray for me 

Some people embrace me- others- 

Spread me across the plains 

While others distribute me within the nations- Desire- 

I have traveled through time and space- through 

Generations and Race 

I am older than humanity- older than thought 

I have been around forever- I will be here- for eternity 

For- I am Desire-

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