Best Vagueness Poems
This is too complex; i mean the throbbing wound
grating my belly on a dappled day, a day
breathing of tender winds and violins. Perhaps,
the strains of notes shuttle me back
to my grandfather’s library sitting on books
and archaic telescopes. Here, we would
empty the shoulders from a rough sail;
he scattering fiddle songs on painted walls…
the mellow notes tasted like hints
of vanilla scent warmed by cadences
of burning musical passion as his eyes ,
half-closed ,melted the noise
of an anxious world, of teary wrongs.
‘Bathe in the splendor of the night,’ he mused,
submitting to a trance smitten by some refrains
of Moonlight Serenade… and my rubber spine
would bend with the flesh of his vibrating hands;
violin strings weeping till we drowned in holy streams.
Now, I feel these undefined memories… the phantom
of light exhumed his lust for old charm;
and my eyes fall on the alley of roaming vagueness.
I could have loved him more than heaven
plucking his strings so soon, uninvited.
Nayda Ivette Negron's Memories Contest
Categories:
vagueness, i miss you, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
Written: January 16, 2024
_______________________________________
Always strive to trust your heart
With everything you do,
Don't be afraid of what others may believe.
Comply with your heart—it speaks best
Always follow your instincts,
And what offers you delight?
Strive to constantly preserve your heart
An outcome of vagueness,
Easily occluded by shadows.
If I could, I would save the whole world
My arms would wrap the globe,
Cease sorrow, grief, and sadness to avert chaos.
To bear a raw life for all
To ease all tears of grief and all anguish,
It would forever be gone.
I'm only a dreamer; I can't even save my heart
but I would embrace the world if I could,
With heartfelt affection for all.
Categories:
vagueness, analogy, heart, world,
Form:
Free verse
She so delicate of visage
Veiled in obscurity
Intangible appearances
Faceted in flowing black mists
Eyes buffering the vagueness lit
Piercing through shadow
Contained within
Turbulent metaphors of dusk
Tempting destiny uncontrolled
Splashing hot crimson
Upon the life sparked cinders
Empathizing too late
Categories:
vagueness, imagination, loss, sad, time,
Form:
Free verse
When the heart feels the
weight of unvoiced verses,
as the verdant embers of Venus
follow the frozen warmth
and the permafrost flickers
of persimmon and cinnamon,
like poetry slipping through
tortured time,
I stand at the cusp of
withering wishes,
like the silver of Luna phasing
above the lamented lighthouse,
cemented with mistrust,
embedded with uncertainties,
afraid of the crashing crystals
cradling my claustrophobic psyche…
O silent scribblers,
scrolling through words of woe,
forgive my impulsive ink.
I’ve long been a runner,
fleeing familiar fickleness,
exhausted and drained
in the midst of melancholy
that lingers across forlorn pages,
like coldness amidst a summer breeze,
like darkness dwelling
in the driftwood dust
of dawning dreams and rising roses,
rinsed with regrets of musky musings.
I race through miles of solitude,
chasing nirvana,
escaping the shackles
of black-thorn springs,
where breathing seems
like a miscalculated
step to misery and interrogation...
I am a misread flame,
entwined with forgotten footfalls,
reveling in solitude,
where sonnets of love
and elegies of sorrow
no longer pierce my soul,
like rusted steel.
I drown in syllables of zen,
alone but not lonely,
silent but not silenced,
anchored in the aesthetics
of self-love and serenity,
hypothesized by
the hesitant galaxies,
as if I am the conceited constellation
that wanes when
storms stir my senses.
But I refuse to pull the stars
into the hellish arms
of vagueness,
so this is me
saving you from
sweltering soliloquies
while homing
fragments of lucidity on
my own astral avenue…
Categories:
vagueness, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
in the winter twilight
the sky has fallen to a shadow
as trees and ground blend
ebbing into vagueness
and beneath my feet the way is wet
and little frills of ice adorn all
in crystalline, frosty and filigree
and the air is full of snowflakes falling
oh, my beloved snow has found me
and I am breathless
as he floats among hanging tree branches
and I feel his sweet silent kisses
upon my hair, my cheek and my ruby lips
and I swirl
as my beloved is whispering
drifting and floating
and I am wrapped within his arms
knowing sadly he will leave me
again ...
___________________
June 21, 2021
Poetry/Verse/again
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1365-852-21
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, All Yours (June 22)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 06/22/2021
First Place
Categories:
vagueness, love, snow,
Form:
Verse
f.@+$
That word
What does it mean?
Is it to glean?
Or
To
Cause a ravine or seam
Or
To tritely inflict
The mean-
-ing
Of a theme
It seems
To
Me
That such a thing
Is small
And
Has little
To bring
Or
To
Ring
Yes, much less
To
Sing
Nothing to suggest
Or
To cause
To
Keep abreast
But
Overt
In its
Suggest
Of
What words
One
Can’t bring
To mind’s crest
And thus
Attest
A
Vagueness of wit
…at best.
Categories:
vagueness, funny, inspirational, life, philosophy,
Form:
Didactic
Vivid in an undefined scene where light and darkness mix
and vagueness’ reality is in a very clear expressionism
to the point terror wears her dark shade and highly dignified
with every next step slapped with the threats of uncertainty
and directions holding no promises and lacking all truths.
Faith is the living tissue for all survivors,
courage, the sandal on which any rough mountain is climbed
and hope, what gives all existence a reason to maintain sustenance.
But these three are becoming the sides
of a triangle with disjointed edges.
A traumatized soul is susceptible to moral infections,
a punctured pocket subjects
a comfortable hand into unforeseen strandedness
making the liberty to be free, quite expensive
like the fate of moving in so much space which is still very limited.
Standing, walking, resting and walking again
as a clear vision of oneself on a second person’s perspective
on a very real event, sums up the influence of this situation.
The end of the world is reached but looking backwards gives more threats.
The free fall is inevitable and that last step
for it to manifest sits at the edge of the cliff.
Then with open limbs, the descent is quick and scary
just to land and discover the destination is one just near the bed
exclaiming in thanksgiving all holy indignation, this isn’t real.
The panting, sweating, heartbeat and palpitations say it all
of an emitting fright gunned out of the mind’s night’s cinematography.
Categories:
vagueness, dream, sleep, perspective,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
The ole diner offers twelve course
conversations salted with unspoken jargon:
one patron withholds the dialect of fed-
up-of-my-job while his buddy barely
nods, too worn-to-the-bone;
a wife texts her friend, i-found-
a-lump-in-my-breast
while her husband swallows , ah-hell-
she’s-having-an-affair.
Hear the internalized vernacular
of hooked-on-painkillers,
the lonely phraseology of my-kids-
never-visit, and the private pang of he-didn’t-
use-a-condom. Misery keeps
its six degrees of vagueness, widens
each tiny rift. It would only take
mindfulness, a willingness to stretch,
but these half-hearted translations
make for such unsound bridges —
take table three, a party of two:
he snaps, get with reality,
which means, Honey-just-listen
while she raises one finger
to her lips, signing, please-just-shut-up-
and-kiss-me.
Categories:
vagueness, feelings, language, people,
Form:
Free verse
double-entendre
double-meaning
insinuations
full of suggestive
vagueness
scattered ambiguity
sprinkled through out
obscurity of inconclusiveness
of train of thought
creating the lore of lies
of a future together as one
within a land of make believe
that one is trying to create within
the mind
Categories:
vagueness,
Form:
Lyric
I had a dream last night
fogged by an uneven frost of the morning
guessing if the sun rose.
It dawned on me
it was night still
with forehead engulfed by the fallen hair.
I figured her out
against wealthy gold streaks of sky
while flowers kept merrying in the garden.
Sitting cross-legged in the pavement
She awaited a long cherished arrival;
the pavement turning
BLACK , white
Black , WHITE
Wh…
Time danced on the cross roads
with a series of its resonant restrained movements.
Its hand drew out for me
and I trying to grab them
found the sun shining
illuminating everything
except shadow of my own construction.
The very next moment
ate up its hands
and shadow intermingled with the silent darkness.
Vehicles tossed up the roads
flooding the pavement with light
Yet,
Alterations marked the vivacity of vagueness
to fathom the unfathomable
and fragmented mirth wetted me from within.
Perhaps,
WHITE would make my shadow flee, I thought.
Sitting there,
she snatched stars from the moonless sky
and buried in the boisterous soil.
I climed up the hill
and fell from the precipice
and she followed
like unshed tears of void eyes.
I kept stringing up my instrument
as I had only songs to offer
that of my own disintegration
And she stood
in front of the church-gate
in deathly austerity.
The deity rose in protest,
Melodies evolved from the ocean-cradle
-filling the air with its uncommon pitch
and my songs kept straying in the corner
looking for fortification.
I dreamt then-
trees stretching themselves upright
trying to peep into heaven:
Deep fragrance of incences rising
where I stood
draped in WHITE
praying with vague distrust.
……..
‘AMEN’
……..
I rose from the bed rubbing my eyes
and at the breakfast table
I sat dismayed
as I remembered all.
Categories:
vagueness, imagination, life, love, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
My mind has wandered off the tracks again
Attempts to distract myself only succeed temporarily
I think he has this plan to end us as lovers by attrition
Withholding affection and slowly withering our connection
I’ve tried being more friendly
I’ve tried being a shoulder to cry on
I’ve tried blatantly saying, “If there is something wrong just tell me.”
I’ve tried ignoring him like he ignores me
So logic seems to say he is over me and so I must move on
But when I ask him he denies it
It is maddening when he says things like “I’d love to hear your voice too but there is no time.”
I am tired of twisting in the wind in this emotional entanglement
Keep me or let me go
The vagueness is killing me
Categories:
vagueness, i miss you, lost
Form:
Prose Poetry
voodoo doll
with your sewn on smile
black button eyes
that cuts my darkness in half
you love me with
your haitian nights
down on the island
with your scented candles
you cast a spell on me
with your blue denim jeans
sparkling magic of
southern mystery
the french quarter
spins in my mind
slow down the stars
powder the moon
burn the incense
watch the ashes fall
from my silk laced spirit
pour the oil of desperation
my flaming imagination
paint me a vagueness
of your hottest desire
create your potion of sexuality
give me your animal attraction
i have forgotten my soul
you stab me with
the steel needle
i am you slave
take me my voodoo doll
so steamy are the bayou nights
standing in the cold
of alabama dreaming
Categories:
vagueness, loveme, me,
Form:
Free verse
Venetians masqueraded themselves to hide their identity;
their vagueness was allowed openly,
"Be a Casanova, a Shakespeare, a Hamlet :
all are welcome to join the banquet!"
" Keep your masks on, or you'll be asked to leave;
it's the Dodge's order: you must comply to enter!"
the doorman solemny speaks scratching his fussy hair;
he hears a mocking laughter to make his mood aggrieve.
"Dames can freely talk to their admirers,
whispers are allowed as long as they are sexually discreet;
they will charm you with their words...
while the Venetian's fogy moon adds splendor and conceal much deceit!"
"Must I remind all to keep your incognito for a stupendous carnival night;
walk on semidark bridges, follow moonbeams as if they were jewels!"
And the austere doorman continues becoming lenient to strict rules,
"Leave nothing to the imagination,be anything you desire: it's your right"
Categories:
vagueness, celebration, character, imagination, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
What do you think of, when you hear the word SOFT?
Is it gossamer spider webs, lining an old barn's loft?
Could it be the fluff, from the dandelion seed?
Or the down from a bird, whose been recently freed?
Would you describe SOFT, in musical terms?
Like Pachelbel's Canon in D, or the songs of terns?
Is it possible to picture SOFT, as a pastel scene?
Or maybe the vagueness, of a old fading dream.
Might the caress of an eyelash, on the tip of your nose,
Rival the feel and subtle smell, of an opening rose?
SOFT could be a gentle breeze, in late afternoon.
Or the muted chortle, of a parenting loon.
Then there's the softness, of an old man's earlobe.
And Cumulus clouds, that circle our globe.
But I'll argue all day, or until my words are forgotten,
Nothing's as SOFT as Beagle Ears-- or a Baby's Bottom.
Categories:
vagueness, cowboy-western, funny, on writing
Form:
Rhyme
Love is an infinite definition of how the mind, body, and soul work collectively for the greater good of the heart. Love is not an emotion; nor a feeling. It's justification that in this crazy world of ours life has a meaning. A reason to coexist in this universe. An answer for why we count the ways. Does she love me? or Does she love me not? Love is a compromise between what your eyes witness and what your thoughts perceive. You see; you can stare down beauty and at the same time think it will not fulfill your soul or grant you pleasure. Likewise, you may be disgusted by the sight of; but know it is the right kind. In the vagueness of its broad definition it is unpredictable. Yet it is the only power whom alone can cleanse the seven deadly venoms that sin our anatomy. Love is a decision. Shall I, wont I, may I, can't I. Its concept is understood, but in its usefulness is a paradigm you may never understand. Love is an action. You can say it but will you do it. The fire of turmoil; to fight for it will you go through it? Love is a continuous cycle of make ups and break ups. I love him, I hate her.
It's an infinite definition of how the mind, body and soul work for the greater good of the heart. Therefore, I feel sorry for the broken hearted because they're broken in their minds and shattered in their spirits. I feel joy for the kind hearted. Because, they have experienced what many have never
felt...A sure thing in an unsure universe, something true in a house of lies. And I admit, it's sad if they're the ones you know. Their happiness is murderous with your jealousy killing you slow...
Categories:
vagueness, lost love, love, universe,
Form:
Narrative