Best Unwounded Poems
"to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature" William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1601:
Along a path of solitude I tread,
flanked on either side by watchman trees,
a lush green canopy above my head,
in foliage the flutter of cerise. . . .
I gasp to see two cardinals appear.
Then farther on, I spot a white-tailed doe!
She calmly meets my gaze and shows no fear.
I can’t imagine in this place a foe!
The trees, unwounded, stand with dignity.
And whether skies be bright or overcast,
they guard this realm, and one will shelter me.
I kick off shoes and stop for a repast.
Now barefoot and relaxed, I write this poem
in quietude of Mother Nature’s home.
For The Tree contest
sponsored by Constance La France ~a Rambling Poet~
For Brian Strand's
ANY OF YOUR 2011 poems any theme/any form max 16 lines Poetry Contest
The letter stays sealed within the envelope unread and faded
Bringing neither hope, nor memories blurred or jaded
The day it came I could not know
Which destiny the words would hold.
Out of fear I refused to break the seal
In hopes that neither fate was real
Thinking only of the I in me
Believing not that Love could ever be
Nor trusting simply your love for me
Past memories of former hurt stake their claim
Haunting wounds, nightmares in the middle of the day.
Uncounted years the letter lay
Preemptive strike I walked away
Hoping the memory that can never un happen of that day
Will be less painful than the specter of what might have been had I embraced the gamble of love
the day your letter came.
And after all these years surprisingly
That letter still calls out to me
Tho I know now what might have been can never be.
I sometimes think what if I was wrong
What if the letter told of love grown strong
Of two hearts held by one strong bond
Perhaps the words spoke tenderly
Of Love
Of Life
And not dear John as I assumed it to be.
I will never know if those words are real
Because the envelope that contains the letter
Remains sealed.
Somewhere in my twisted heart I feel
That those words unread
Can neither harm, nor heal.
Which is better?
Which is worse?
Does truth lie in the ancient verse
"Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all"
What daysman can ever make that call?
Maybe the tragedy that is worse
Is to never give your heart a chance to hurt.
So now I stand alone and cold
Much like the unread letter folded in the envelope.
Never throwing it away yet still not reading
Dying unwounded
Scarred but not bleeding.
Knowing full and well that I will never know
The message that the letter holds
Too afraid to let it go
Yet too afraid to ever know
I stand alone
A prisoner to unread words.
Fearing the past and dreading the future
Fearful of presumed hurt.
Yet I'm frozen
And alone
A prisoner held hostage by a message I'll never know.
A letter
Alone
In an envelope. Unopened.
The unmistakable scent of damp wool coats drying,
Has a pleasant way of mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee,
Every seat in the livingroom is full, everyone watching TV.
Twenty four hours of, what else, football! football!!! football!!!
Parents and Uncles and Grandkids and Aunts, Sisters and Brothers and Kids,
New Boyfriends or Girlfriends whose names you can't remember,
The men and a couple of the "Grownup" girls gather on the glassed-in porch,
At halftime, to take a little shot of cheer and to remember other days,
Missing Dad and enjoying my mother's laughter and comforting her tears.
The immense dinner that gets better every year; don't ask me how.
Fixing a plate to take to Mrs Stuart who won't come, although she is welcome.
Past ninety she has no family left and is too proud to "intrude".
And Robert is home unwounded and safe, Our Son, my little boy no more.
Thank You Lord.
the man who lied to me knew
that immortality is the best kind of lie
that pain is closer to the soul than happiness
secrets known only by the old watchmakers
and the erudite antiquarians
men who lie read every book with their fingers
they know that leaves are the plaits of virgins
unwounded with bloody hands on the cross
and letters are the thorns within the heart of every Laura
betrothed for ever nevermore a wife
only the sea is for the whales’ fishermen
old whore with hair on her chin
the only true men who learn
the salty taste of death
at daybreak
Creation Conceals within Conclusion
Returning home, alas, long forgotten
Alone no more, an entwined surprise
The essence of one, unseen, a Delusion
The presence of self, unknown, begotten
Together no less, an unwounded lies
I assumed we would be together
That’s what you falsely led me to believe
But now I’m left here with heartache
Betrayed, dishonored and deceived
I must admit, I was convinced, because you talk a good game
But now that I need you the most, you’ve turned your back and walked away
I let my guard down too soon, and opened up to you
So determined to make you happy that I played the fool
I unknowingly surrendered myself and gave you the right
I submitted to you so completely, that I gave you control of my life.
You were so visionless to the fact that I gave you my heart
My most precious gift and you tore it apart.
It seems that you’ve remained unwounded
And I’m left here lonely and baring the scars
Scars that were cause by the lies that you’ve told
Now you’ve found another and I’m left out in the cold
And yet I often wonder, if you tell her what you told me
Or if you’ve unlocked you heart and let your love run free
The same love that you promised, to me and only me
I guess the signs were all there, but I was too blind to see
But still it’s not easy to pick up and move on
Because for your lying words and deceiving touch, I often still long
I gave you all I had to give, and still it wasn’t enough
Maybe time heals all wounds
But never again will I trust
Polypaths
lead neuro-systemically back
to Mother/Child original wombed attachment
A remarkably warm
and wet counterpoint
to a sterile anthrosupremacist theory
of Original Separating Sin.
Instead,
in this organic preternatural
panentheistic
spiritual experience
of win/win healthy wealth,
co-attachment overrides win/lose
zero-sum compromised
competitive relationships
Patriarchal
and capitalist self creationships
come later
as post-partum polarizing issues
aggravated by contemporary
climate pandemic anxious
post-millennial expectations
Not supporting child-conceiving,
child-weaving,
child-rearing maternal
maturing ecofeminist instincts
Substituting win/lose separation anxieties
EarthMother apartness
sacrilegious loneliness
autistic detachment
relentless aching solitude
absence of warm humane touch
and transcendently divine revision
Moving toward lose/lose claustrophobic
degeneration of a healthy
maternally wealthy
root secure resilient attachment
AND
devoid of a wealth-feeling child
securely unwounded, emerging
from EarthMother's green womb
of co-enlightenment
spiritually opening
and then naturally closing
then co-empathic redisclosing
remembering tombs of ancient co-intelligence
multigenerational
interdependent webs
integrating EarthTribe enlightened
empowerment.
Original Sin
implies our Creator of Integrity
made us
an anthropomorphic mistake
Inadequately assumes
that humanity's spirituality
is dualistically severed
from divinity's naturality;
that Yintegral deep Flow
is not also Yang widely polycultural Strength
of polypathic cooperation
This, in turn,
confuses a LeftBrain monotheistic dominant
either/or unmindful anthrosupremacist way
of ZeroSum calibrating
win/win regenerative
analogical health/wealth
Child/EarthMother care
Which could not support
Lose/Lose Original Sin
of degenerative genocide
inspiring evangelical red terrorist
desperate,
Seize the AnthroSupremacist Day,
ecocide.
Down through the greener woods of Uma,
Through the lions’ den to the green mamba’s palace,
Near the dik dik’s habitat,
As the antelope took off to escape the rage,
Of the approaching leopards whose paws protruded,
Upon the trees were vultures the street sweepers,
Freely interweaving chores with weaver bird choirs,
Whose melodious tuning meant zero to the jungle-
Whose circle a train man decided to cremate,
Elephants hitting their tusks clumsily-
To secure escape routes as rhinoceros tails wagged by,
On their bellies, precious pythons unwounded their rings,
To fit in the general jungle athletics
As the dark pan paper like smoke covered
Rapidly converting the small milieu into-
A small tentative night before a see through,
Thorough plights epitomized the sodomic tragedy
And the Gomorra wails.
As he moved down the valley to Naili Center
Nyama choma’s aroma spread in the setting
As occupants of a small matatizo City
Saw through to Lake Matatizo bounds-
Silence in Uma.
There are some,
from birth are marked by melancholy,
The silent shades of sorrow,
are their congenial haunts.
The glades of grief are the only places,
their leaf can flourish.
Others, who through some crushing misfortune,
Being brought so low,
never holding up their heads again,
but go, mourning all the way to their silent graves.
Some, again,
disappointed in their early youth,
Either in some fond object of their affections,
or else in some project of their young ambitions.
Never can dare to face the world,
Shrinking from contact with their fellows,
Curling up their tendrils like the sensitive plant.
In all flocks,
there must be lambs,
The weak and wounded sheep.
Even among the flock of God, the Elect
It is the duty, of those of us,
who are freer than others,
Who found liberation from despondency of spirit.
Be very tender to the weak ones.
Far be it,
from the man of courageous disposition,
Being hard on those.
timid and despairing!
If we have a lion-like spirit,
let's not imitate the king of beasts,
Expressing cruelty,
on those timid fallow deer that fly before them.
Let us place our strength at their service,
Reaching out to help in protection of them. .
With downy fingers,
bind up the wounded heart,
On our hands,
gloves and bandage,
Being there nourishing their fainting spirits!
In this walk of life,
let the unwounded warriors bear their injured comrades to the rear.
bathe their wounds,
cover them from the storm of war.
Being gentle to those who are desponding!
Some deal with others,
roughly handed thoughtlessness,
"Ah," they say,
"if such a one is so foolish as to be sensitive, let him be."
Being sensitive,
timid and desponding is ill enough in itself,
without us being hard,
and cruel towards those who are so afflicted!
Go forth and do to others,
As you would that others should,
in your hours of despondency,
deal with you tenderly and comfortably,
so, deal tenderly and comfortably with them.
Lambs, wounded sheep,
Christ died for each one of them.
This love is a needle ,
It pricks my gentle chest,
Like a thorn it tears my tissues away ,
A great sensation of pain caresses my soul,
Sweet yet unbearable,
Like the sky on mercury retrograde.
It burdens my soul yet lifts my spirit,
Somehow I can't seem to escape it,
Like an occurrence of hurricane,
It clouds my judgement,
And blocks my instincts ,
Evidently I feel it alone .
I waited for tomorrow,
And time laughed on my face,
The cherry blossoms never blossomed,
Tomorrow forgot to visit ,
A stranger acquired you ,
Yet I'm left holding on to these emotions,
Time heals all wound they say,
But there's no healing an unwounded heart ,
Or an unscared soul ,
I chose pain ,
After setting my eyes on you ,
I knew it could never be returned,
Yet I chose to pour it out unconditionally,
I'm a fool in love I can't reason,
I'm a fool in love I'm brainless,
Just dying to be loved by you ,
Desperation drives my current fate.
He's like the wind that blows softly through me
Giving me a sense of feeling secure.
He is the answer to my every dream.
My hurting heart has found a loving cure.
I have suffered many times before.
So many scars were left to wound my heart,
Tearing through my body leaving it sore.
But with him I can make a brand new start.
His love flows through me like my rich, warm blood,
It's pumping to my heart to give me strength.
To feel this way, I never thought I could.
He's there to take my love to any length.
I love him more and more every day.
I hope he never leaves and always stays.
(3/10/88)
He had the grace of a buffalo
And the strength of a gazelle,
But he wore it comfortably
And we loved him for it.
His secret was contentment.
It empowered us all.
We were unbeaten, unwounded.
Many challenged us,
Striking below the surface
Attacking everything they valued.
We remained untouched,
Hidden in the open.
We were who we claimed to be,
Invisible to the stealthy,
A monument to the innocent
And he loved us for it.
Sip something to long life
Be better today no need for strife
Conclusion unbounded
I step on the stage
Feeling unwounded
Without all my rage
This love is a needle ,
It pricks my gentle chest,
Like a thorn it tears my tissues away ,
A great sensation of pain caresses my soul,
Sweet yet unbearable,
Like the sky on mercury retrograde.
It burdens my soul yet lifts my spirit,
Somehow I can't seem to escape it,
Like an occurrence of hurricane,
It clouds my judgement,
And blocks my instincts ,
Evidently I feel it alone .
I waited for tomorrow,
And time laughed on my face,
The cherry blossoms never blossomed,
Tomorrow forgot to visit ,
A stranger acquired you ,
Yet I'm left holding on to these emotions,
Time heals all wound they say,
But there's no healing an unwounded heart ,
Or an unscared soul ,
I chose pain ,
After setting my eyes on you ,
I knew it could never be returned,
Yet I chose to pour it out unconditionally,
I'm a fool in love I can't reason,
I'm a fool in love I'm brainless,
Just dying to be loved by you ,
Desperation drives my current fate.
I wake up to see a sky gray but untroubled
But will my day unfold, remaining unwounded?
The forecast says mild rains will come in a short while,
But will the flowers get drenched awake unwounded?
A fledgling bird shivers under a dripping leaf,
quenches its thirst, will it fly away unwounded?
I shake my mind off mangled dregs from last night’s dreams
But will my dazed senses recover unwounded?
I need to touch and hold rich testaments of joy
Will these console my soul to remain unwounded?
@jjote 090624