Best Unzipping Poems
Sorting through old pictures kept in weathered leather albums
I am sorting through the questions, that are tethered in my head
If time is truly relative, (as often we have heard)...
then,...what defines this moment?
I am living here, while missing them....but is it me that's really dead?
Am I here? Am I there? Is it now? Is it then?
Am I living in the future, or has tomorrow come and gone?
All the familiar faces, in sepia faded poses, are here within my hand
I sense the comfort of their arms. Their voices, soft and lingering...
How can that be, if they are gone......yet still a part of me?
Perhaps they still live and it is me, who is fading, all along?...
Wind at the window, and an old ticking clock,
keeping me counting, pondering thoughts
While the questions unanswered circle the room...
I re-memorize the faces, ....each page is a story,
the story keeps weaving, .....in memory's loom
My mother, alive, long brown braids, as a child...
Younger than I ever knew her to be...
My father, so strong, ...before he was frail...
The faces before me, did they follow my trail?
Or did they come first, ...with stories to tell?
Yes, here is my grandmother, who cradled me well.....
Where did she go? She lives in me still...
Or is she still here, looking down from above
while I still feel the love, as I look down at her now?
What is time, what is death, where am I in the scheme of things?
Can you help me unlock the spell...
Tell me, ....tell me......
Do we circle around the wheel of life, of death, of time....
In sepia, faded yellow and brown?
You look at a sky full of stars
akin to trillions of diamonds.
And watch a gold doubloon moon climb
high amidst a starlit background.
Not a sound, just you, and your thoughts;
as worldly distractions vanish.
And scrutinizing God's handiwork:
your soul finds its humanity.
A sizzling shooting star trails light,
unzipping a curtain of sparks.
And a bat starts scanning for moths,
flapping skin-soft wings at nightfall.
Shifting shadows slowly conjoin,
crushing charcoal gray into black.
And tattooing twilight phantoms:
Dusk, inks day, in colors of Night.
I'm here again
Checking you out
Missing you again
Calling out
I'm here again
Taking you out
Kissing you again
Chilling out
Here we go again
Thinking where to go
Under the sun again
Outshining and ready to go
There we go again
Hanging on tree top lines
Under the clouds again
Unzipping the borderlines
Our world will never end
Up and down the bend
Left and right we hold so tight
For so much love we'll strongly fight
They call it the Sunday Scaries
They call it the Bubble Visualisation Exercise
I felt the polished wood of my table
The softness of my son's hair
My pencil snapped when I started my Gratitude Journal
Turn to the person next to you and tell them about a teacher
As loud as God unzipping his fly
Sat in the back not being able to find the steering wheel
They laughed
They were charmed
The shapes of stories
The shapes of restfulness and well-being
My son is playing piano as I write this
I'm going to stop writing
If this isn't nice, I don't know what is
The morning sun had not yet cut the forest
into shadow and light, and the gray mist of the coming
day fell from the autumn sky.
The creeping fog added its damp prospective
to the Trees. Their visually poetic patterns
were etched in red and yellowed leaves
on muted branches of greys and browns.
Ever Greens dotted the hillside as if
Punctuating the view with quotation marks,
periods, and commas, allowing nature to
write her commentaries in a breath taking language of color.
My mind captured by the fallen leaves, cascaded down the mosaic
of a hillside to the forest floor. It was released by
a small flock of birds that landed in the trees near the lake.
Their fluttering black wings slapped and echoed.
Chaotic chirping bounced with them in a morning mêlée
of song and dance. The occasional red tipped wing
flickered through the hopscotched patterns
of sight and sounds.
Welcomed by the stark morning, and in spite
of the contrast the frolicking cacophony
brought to the once quiet serene surroundings,
My sleeping bag half unzipped I stopped…
the since of oneness made me sigh in completeness.
At last, metro’s traffic comes to a halt…
the quarter moon peeps between hilltops
as a lingering gladness warms my flesh—
half steady, half shimmering
when early evening’s air
prances like fine gauze, shedding
time’s need for revelry. Unzipping
my mind to surrender to the upbeat
tempo of glittering dusk naked in
earthy bliss, I feel all the pinpoints
of the sky tingling on my limbs
numbed by rind’s toil. Resting a bit
to groove with merriment
borne from the wake of laughing stars,
my limbs pirouette with the rhythm of wildflowers
fondling the light, embracing the
pleasure of now ...and to dance, dance joy!
Trashed #2 Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings
By nette onclaud
9/12/2015
EARTH and WATER luckier than me
Caressing beauty which is mirage to me
EARTH holding curvaceous body with passion
WATER doubling beauty through reflection
WIND gently unzipping silky hair to seduce
Unleashed fragrance zipping me into trance
Slender loin stoking FIRE to engulf you in arms
Togetherness itching for VOID full of loving charms
Chiseled face alluring lips petal to lock
Taste the oozing love as if choc from rock
Flowing gown extending beauty farther
Through covers raising excitement further
Floating flowers singing romantic melody tunes
Keeping beauty awake with softly closed eyes
EARTH, WATER, WIND, FIRE, VOID all awestruck
Nature in elements, me in awe as lightning struck
With no kingdom, beauty is still the Queen
Queen of Hearts she is, coveted by each crown
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By Hitendra Mehta
For Members contest – Earthly Elements by Leighann Anderson
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Spring resume summers day with many choices,
In the reunion of all seasons the nectar entwined,
Sunshine to scream out excitement in our voices,
Find outside no place to hide chimes of our mind.
Dare we stray towards the heat of sunburn way?
Cold play under festival of stars brightly dancing,
Pop into serenity of our soul for the entire day,
Music warms our emotions until we began crying.
Changing the moonlight into midnight falling sun,
Our smiling faces are picturesque miles of places,
Blew into fanzine memories the wild breeze of fun
On our journey in a flight of freedom for all races.
Happy boots clapping in muddy Sunday schools
Surround nature echoes amazing beautiful sound,
Water lapping rocks into balm of swimming pools,
Sovereign flavor tread kindly upon the soft ground.
No danger of lone rangers where crowds gathered
Larking about with twisted lyrics of Silver Spring,
Like Cockatoo magpie, mimicking sparrows adored
The saintly summer emblems of rhyme and rhythm.
Defending the hazardous thrush of flirty rain brush,
The crowd of drone dark clouds unzipping the field
In roving groups of light heels the adrenaline rush,
Probe under the blanket of night to be reconciled.
Sunlight glint appears again in emblazed flames,
Breathe through silhouette lily of warbling trees,
Summary days saved us from the dreary drains,
Made the stagnant world rise from wobbly knees.
To see fondant flowers blossomed in rosy bowers
Nothing could ever be compared to the romance
Of summers day rolling away cloudy rain showers
Over glens and valleys fading out in the distance.
Merry Christmas Soup
We sit together raising our glasses
Of eggnog, glühwein, or sorrel punch and passing on
Blessings of goodwill, throughout the flowing seasons
Unzipping our thoughts through poems and songs
Expressing the emotions of every heart in friendships
Accentuating their beauty through metaphors
Rhythmical we toast for never ending inspiration
Merry Christmas
12/25/2016
The successful preacher spoke with a pious tone
very soothing to the ear.
Great days are coming .
when all of mankind shall be peaceable and agreeable
and there shall be no more irredeemable souls.
The church choir stood up and they began to sing like angels and beneath the choir you can hear the rustling of pockets and jingling of change, the snapping and unzipping of handbags, wallets and purses in a very pious tone soothing to the spirit of tithing.
Hi there angel of gold
Part of my plan is raising you bold
Solving the statistics that bridges your crazy and your ladylike code
Till I can harvest your deepest emotions with a minimum devotion
Erosion – 3
Gathering blackness, queries a lot
Dancing all around yellow fragrance; slowly slowly
Doors are open whilst rainbow is at hand
To her ; herself
Mixing whole night in a bundle
Night birds are unzipping all the stitch;
windows and covers weaving each other
In every clips, in every texture loosing strength
an old leaf fallen down
I touch the dew ; darkness
Though willing are fruitless they come
in drawing huge flies
By Javed Akter
HIT OR MISS
when the razor-smiled
chaos starts
unzipping
swirling swaying
anarchy
select your
hit or miss
learn to disguise hurt
laugh at decay
shadowing
heart beats retreating
diversity
pumping
hit or miss
six million bones
are learning to
beam
strange festivity
multiplying
lightning
hit or miss
© Kim van Breda
Our engagement was our first date.
He knew I was shy and would turn away.
Therefore, he told me not to be afraid.
He knew I liked his physique.
We would continue this relationship as soul mates.
Longevity this became.
So I knew he would make me his woman.
His smile ignited my spirit.
I desired to be fulfilled.
His hand touched my waist.
He slowly kissed my face.
Then the passion begins to explode.
My spaghetti straps dropped from my shoulders.
His mouth caressed my breast.
My head begins to spin from him sensually.
I had to get control of me.
He is unzipping me fast.
This intimacy is where it is at.
We been together long enough to have sex.
Erotic I become.
Ascetic is unbecoming.
This man is now a partner.
My wanton behavior is not to be control.
However, he is dynamism and love.
This red box may hold all
Or once opened the whole world might fall
This red box is calling me
No words, sounds, movements yet my curiosity rises increasingly
Sitting, deep thoughts of what contents it may hold
I reach for this box of mysteries that could be
Pandora’s box or simply empty
Thus textures ever so smooth
White and green patterns rest within handles and its groove
Irresistible it was, and now its time
Lifting the lid, unzipping my future
Cookies. Left over Christmas cookies