Best Unwritten Poems
There you were - dancing,
unaware of the intense rain.
Despite grey clouds grimacing,
your radiant glamour enticed emotions.
Emeralds and sapphires shimmered
through those luminous eyes.
First glimpse of your warm smile,
saw suppressed symphonies resonate
with each beat of my heart.
Not all poetry is for everyone's eyes,
so we read each other in silence.
Unwritten ink dyed our skin,
as the pen lost control,
carving our names within
timeless beloved ballads.
Two souls scribbling secret sonnets,
easing restless chambers of our minds.
Naturally beautiful like nature,
our evergreen love blossomed.
As we wandered within utopia's oasis,
our feet kissed sun blessed paths,
leading to passionate pastures.
There is no transcript,
to our epic love story,
it will forever remain an
unpublished manuscript.
Simple Musing
Silent One
11 September 2018
Rhythms of pulses echo in souls, augmenting tenor of love song,
Reminiscing in sanctuary of life, together they shared for long;
Yet, memories sadly clamor aloud, since the day she’s been gone,
Of nightmares that cruelly shattered, dreams of their avid dawn.
Her unwritten absence now perturbs in void of the undone, unsaid,
As their unfinished tapestry longs, for stitch of the missing thread;
Vying affluence she delivered, to wealth of their beloved yore,
Steadfastly defying angst that destiny grievously brought to fore.
Unseen, she still occupies, fond yearnings of his moaning heart,
Struggling in her absence, since stealthily she decided to part,
Missing her hypnotizing smile enriching the fervor of her glance,
Nostalgic in embrace of desires, proffering a pledge of romance.
Emptiness haunts him now for misinterpreting clues of silent sighs,
As regrets torment: how long did her smile, hide her desolate cries;
Neither could he sense in her eyes, tacit bawl of love gone awry,
Nor could he decipher from her kiss, subtext of her covert goodbye.
Curtain may fall, music may end; yet allure of real love never dies,
Words of their solemn oath, unwritten absence no longer denies,
For bond of love reinvigorates hearts, tolling eternally as time,
Strumming passion’s sound of music, enamored in love sublime.
Inside an inkwell, lives a fairy tale
A classic, filled with love and misery
Where," Once upon a time" has long set sail
And "happy ever after's" yet to be
It's plot, a knight, once schooled in chivalry
His quest for love, the dragons he has slain
From Crusades 'round the world to frippery
The jousts with Father Time who drew disdain
Yet deep inside is where brave knight remains
A lifetime of adventures, good and bad
The love he searches for, still unobtained
Still finding peace, his "grail" this Gallahad
Perhaps, I'll buy a quill one of these days
Release Sir Knight and legends of his ways
by Daniel Turner
Spenserian sonnet abab bcbc cdcd ee
He told me to write a poem
About beauty, wind blowing
Hair tossing , dream making stunning
Gorgeousness of living
Beauty addicts and blind ambitions
Movie stars and historical happenings
Formal dresses, women in high heels with
Faces meant to smile
That’s what poems should be about, he says,
Your good at that kind of thing, just spit it out
“Shawty, write a poem about beauty, that’s real poetry”
“Everything is beautiful, baby…”
“But what is beautiful to you?”
Beautiful.
Births and rebirths
Phoenix Red celestial torching of the hearts
Interlocking fingers in twilight
Kisses, Death, sorrow, crocodile tears
Laughter, Ecstasy , black
White, brown, yellow, silver crimson
Skin on skin, chest to chest, on and on, soft
Hard City light heaving, breathing against the Ebony sky
Natural Twinkle of diamond shadows,
Cosmos, Atoms, Hydrogen bonds, Electrons
Nucleus, matter, anti-matter
Smash together, slither mutually
To create harmony.
Everything.
Everything is beautiful.
“Just write about that then..”
"Not everything has to be written, somtimes you just have to
live it out.."
"What's the point then?? What's the point of writing about butterflies
and waterfalls? I just don't see it? Why do you have to doll everything up and
make it more then what it is? Not everything has to be picked apart and analyzed."
"Mmm, I suppose."
"What's real poetry to you?"
"Everything..."
"I don't understand."
I recline and rest my head on his chest
Tracing lines of thought on the ceiling
Helping him dismantle the universe and put it back together
In his own way
Enjoying lyrical symphonies of life
Breath by breath…
Together
Silent
"This, baby, This is real Poetry.."
For long I have been an aimless vagabond
I strayed far, the world being enormously wide.
Traveling to lands foreign, I searched my fortune.
At the end, fed up with all that was alien,
And wishing to withdraw from the world’s bewildering stress,
Decided to set out in search of my roots and my people.
Parents dead, my faint connections with my folks were gone.
My ancestral home was occupied by my brother,
With whom I had hardly any correspondence.
But when I was choked by thoughts of my dear home
And the yearning to visit struck me as an irresistible urge,
Without second thoughts, I boarded a plane,
And headed to my native village with dreams many.
From far I saw my house perched high on a hill,
Dappled in grey, squinting across the field.
Nearing it, my heart began to beat in pounding thuds,
In the excitement of a reunion long overdue.
Alas! There was none to receive me, only some creepy spiders,
Busily spinning gossamer webs over closed windows
Its vacancy haunting me, I tried to ring the doorbell.
But the rusted contraption sat silent on the cracked wall.
What had happened to the family living here?
Have they migrated to some far-off place?
A hundred questions propped up in my mind.
Wished to ask someone, but seeing nobody around,
I stood silent in the weed grown courtyard for some more time.
I thought of the heydays of my life, with a deep yearning,
To run round the house once more as a child
And be under its shelter, to lie down and dream the dreams of old.
Everything looked so forlorn. Feeling suddenly orphaned,
My eyes got welled up with tears as never before.
Hesitant to chew the unpalatable truth that this house will no more board me,
Casting one last glance with a heart laden with memories,
I turned my back from that spectral home,
Which stood silent as a symbol of UNWRITTEN ABSENCE!
Some songs remain unwritten,
so many unsung.
Sometimes there are words,
but no background music
so I curse this refrain.
Unable to find the perfect blend
My art remains unappreciated,
my soul blames my spirit,
my spirit my heart,
my heart my mind,
yet my mind remains mute.
Too fatigued to fight,
constantly pondering
why do I let myself create a
vocabulary of unspoken language
where a brittle bridge of
mulberry memories still stain.
Why do I remain in perpetual pain?
I know I cannot sing in tune,
nor play in an orchestra,
but, If you knew the verses for these violin strings,
then would you sing..... With me?
Too feel
Too believe
Too be heard
Maybe then, I too, will know if I'm understood -
bringing an end to this ebony eye existence.
Only the birds know my ballad,
but this morning they have no melody,
maybe they have forgotten the chorus to our chant,
so now my anthem of angst is surreal silence.
Why do they supress the lullabies?
Lyric less in lament,
I'm a nightingale surrounded by a murder of crows,
and I see cats prowling,
they seem to sense my breathless beats.
Yet, I know in a playground of pitfalls,
the canvass must bleed in a brush of emotions,
so blank pages portray lyrics of a sincere symphony,
blasting in colourful sounds, merging forever
because the world is the music,
my life a mere note
hoping it is never abandoned.
There is an unwritten process in the book of flatulence
For when it is passed
Firstly, if there is a dog in the room
Naturally, it was the dog who did that blast
Next in line are children
When an awful smell wafts by
Of course it's one of the little angels
Which they always and forever deny
Lastly it is the men
Who simply bear no shame
When in the company of women
Without question they are to blame
As for us delicate creatures called ladies
We would never blow a foul trumpet tune
If by the slightest chance it ever came to fruition
It would be the lovely aroma of sweet perfume
Not another phase in my life
Or another chapter to be closed
There won’t be more pain to erase or
Another story to be told
I won’t speak of memories
I’ll be living them daily
Not another “that point in my life”
Or another “used to be us”
There won’t be an “experience” I had or
A page to be turned
I won’t speak of you
I’ll be speaking to you
Not another heart breaking poem to be written
Or another entry in my new book
There won’t be more ink to be wasted
And paper recycled
I won’t be able to have a final draft
I’ll be writing our story forever
She came into our lives unbidden,
A pleasant surprise,
Her open heart was never hidden
From her soulful eyes;
She won our hearts with her gentle love,
Always filled with grace,
Her time with us, a gift from above,
Still holds a dear place;
When small, we had fun, running around,
Playing all the time,
Perking up at the tiniest sound,
She raced through life's mime;
With unspoken words, she cared for us,
Active and naughty,
Strutting around queenlike, making fuss,
A little haughty;
Her unwritten absence rankles now,
Blackie in peace sleeps,
For ten years, she brightened our days, how!
Unshed sorrow creeps.
I see it right there, the subtle changes,
As you tuck those toes underneath your tights,
Fighting behind silences and sickening sunrises,
Contain yourself, you might cross a fire you can’t outcry,
I can hardly see those eyes through the mirror, hollowing through like a swirling tip of a tornado,
As if muffled drums were held still on cotton gloves,
The tiny twitches as you twist those thoughts,
Drowning in words to the point you see no light,
I guess your lips have learnt the lungs of quiet,
And your tears have tasted grace of terrors,
You’ve gone far enough and I hope you find north,
Walking in shattered bones one too many times,
Swimming through waves like a forgotten shadow,
Forgive me for this outrageously unwritten absence,
Pretending perfection while these veins remain paralyzed,
What more of your heart is left to give,
When you’ve played it like a tune with a broken grove,
The beastly blues voicing it’s protective aggressions,
Maybe one day I’ll love you out loud and all your shortcomings,
In the meantime I shall learn to make peace with breaths you take.
Lord you laid down your life for me
I am not worthy to even kiss your feet
Dusty words used on repeat seem weak
Unopened letters from heavy heart bleeds
I am so full of sin and selfishness
How can I write you when I am
Lost in the darkness of my worldly ways
Like a bat I hang upside down
Blinded by your light but praising you Christ
For the calligraphy of your heart
Wrote liquid loving words of faith
Your sacrifice saved my soul my life
And I am grateful yet blind
As to what word I can find
Great enough to describe you
How can I pray when words get in the way
Can I dance you a note
Filled with the Holy Ghost
Can turquoise tears I shed
Be a poem my eyes write
Each time I sin is like
Nailing you again to the cross
What letters can hearts write
To heal your wombs
The elephant in the room
Without you all are doomed
Thank you for forgiveness
Thank you for knowing me
Better than I know myself
I throw myself at your feet
Asking you to read my heart
There will come a time, at any age
When I will no longer grace this page.
That’s when I will be out of rhyme.
At any age, there will come a time.
An unwritten absence, you see, to be exact.
I will leave everything on Soup intact.
The only difference, there won’t be me.
To be exact an unwritten absence, you see.
To remember me, do a good deed.
Do it for someone who is really in need.
Don’t resuscitate me, let my soul go free.
Do a good deed to remember me.
When I am lying there covered with a sheet.
Give my heart to a man who’s own does not beat.
Give all my organs to those that need a spare.
Covered with a sheet when I am lying there.
Give my eyes to that girl, she’s not seen flowers.
My ears to a boy who hears silence for hours.
Give science my brain to study and unfurl.
She’s not seen flowers, give my eyes to that girl.
If there’s something you must bury, let it be every fault.
My impatience and envy and failure to exalt.
My bigotry and unkind thoughts of an adversary.
Let it be every fault, If there’s something you must bury.
Like the autumn weaves warmth
With hope and grace,
Inspirations in temptations of laughing scarlet,
Blazing tangerine and glorious gold,
Soothing away the darkness as beautiful
Casts its shadow over my spirit,
A dream reflecting peace that rouses me to remember
Where there was a choice, reserved for joy,
Light was the sustaining power –
Arriving in my unwritten absence,
When bold flames of passionate bronze
Faded into the summer and reminded me why,
Why I was like the dwindling moon, sliding beneath
Stardust dreams, coloring the night
In ebony history – grimly waning ways,
Soothing away the fog of yesterday and creating
Intimacy in the bonds of laughter and compassion,
The seclusion so liberating, smiling into the moments,
Erasing the black and putting away the smallest tasks
Excusing melancholy and blaming dusk
For its exasperating way of giving in to doubt,
Listening to the enchantress, lunation
Who boldly praises the nocturnal memories,
Roaring and seeking temptations,
So wise and wonderful they cling to the flesh,
Like sweat shimmering and sliding,
Sticking to the moments in an abiding grace –
Is memory so brave as the reflection it gave,
The intimacy between two echoes,
Night and day, yesterday, the past – weaved
Into the present moment, erasing the wistful wish
Who dreams light yet focuses on the night
And remembers only to agree with autumn’s brave kindness,
The memory like a taunting of two thoughts,
One of love and one of sorrow, each with their own fears
Their very own tears and so many trusted years
When everywhere there was light
Poured out on endless stirrings of what it is
To give in to the past and its spirit,
The blessings rising like a mist across the mountains,
The moments when life fades in sterling sands
Visions of kindness when life is truth
And life binds the days with praise,
An aching praise who restores and renews,
Invites the beautiful to breathe
And the sadness to grieve…
This is the past and it’s healing will give hope
To the ones who remember
A clinging ache, meant to break…
Yes, there is victory in the faith who believes
God wins – in the end, GOD WINS!
Why don't I feel your absence?
A painful absence that should tear at my soul
Why don't I feel your absence?
A suffocating absence that should consume my breath
Why?
I reach out
Hoping to hold you
But my hands grasp at thin air
Leaving me lost and feeling small
Reminding me...
Unspoken words
Unwritten absence
Unexpressed thoughts
Are all I have
Because you aren't here.
UNWRITTEN ABSENCE
Reminiscing bygone golden days
spent once when our amour danced in glamour,
two wobbling hearts tensely entwined.
Now we are out of touch staying far apart.
Your pearly pulses rhythmic in cadence
searching for my unwritten absence.
Morose memories haunting over lost love
Those precious remembrances with whom to share !
Now each moment to ruminate glorious past !
But we are far away from each other !
Yet eternal bond was established between us.
Me still carrying firm confidence :
You are lamenting over my unwritten absence
expecting my sudden appearance.
Murmuring Zephyr caressing me !
Same tender breeze might brush your soft lips.
We are far away staying apart.
Even no rare chances to meet each other.
Immense love preserved as treasures,
impossible to measure !
Confined in fathomless depth not to reach ! Hence !
While dreaming of my unwritten absence
I know, your expectation yearns for my presence.