Demystify Poems | Examples

Children

Children will always remember the void,  
They will always recall the hands that couldn’t embrace them.  
They will always remember the troubles that nightfall brings,  
And the darkness that invades their slumber.  
They will always remember the stranger who masqueraded as a helper.  

Yet, children can sometimes bloom out of the gloom,  
They may open a door to a new day,  
With a slate wiped clean,  
Finding a meadow free of shadows,  
Children can sometimes start fresh on new pages.  

Children will still be the seeds of tomorrow,  
The stars that embellish the night sky,  
The glow of a summer field,  
The gateway to continuity;  
Children will still be the voices we teach them to express.  

Children can sometimes unearth the past,  
Piecing together fragments to demystify the strange.  
Their minds explore the vast field of existence,  
Searching for goodly pearls.  
Children will always desire to play,  
And the onus is ours to teach them how to balance the day.


August 1, 2025.

Ode To De Words

There was a time when words were derived,
not slovenly crafted with prefixes.
When drain meant to let the water out.
When cast from window, meant to throw it out.
That was before the arrival of de- words
De-water means to drain, why not just drain the water out?
Defenestration is de- French for, throwing someone or something from a window
Deforestation is chopping down the trees
Decoupling is divorce, or detachment of carriage from engine.
Demystify is to remove the spook.
Departmentalise is to open the gates on open day to the silos.
Depolarise is inclusion .
Depigmentation is to bleach or whiten.
Desensitise is to get over, your touchy self.
Desalinate is to go easy on the salt-shaker.
Detoxify is to flush and cleanse.
Desertification is to water the parched fields.
Dehumanise is the demise of individuality.
Demise is goodbyes.
Come On, 
Let's End the De-s
De-End

For Everything There Is a Chosen Time

For everything there is a chosen time:
     for everything, too, there is a season;
now in mid-life, and past my former prime,
     I seek to probe life's heart, to draw reason
from its nub; and demystify its rhyme.

     There's a time to live, and a time to die;
a time to be young, and a time to grow old;
     there's time to be far, and time to be nigh;
a time to weep, and a time to feel joy.

But most of all, there is a time for Time:
     for its fore-ordained length has a hidden purpose
that the Creator gives, a plan sublime
     that must be sought beneath life's outward surface.

To plumb life's rhyme and reason, such great depth
demands time which devours a whole life's breadth.

Omoyele Sowore

Oh! ye noble men of courage, another Hero is born. 
Meet the man who demystify the terrors of our oppressors,  
Out on thee oh cowards, Up and braze up for the the imminent freedom.  
Your Fears are foolish, let them dazzle a thousand guns, they are mortals and 
            they fear our rage. 
Enlist in the voyage for liberation, we cannot all be cowered. 
Liberty is the cry of the oppressed, and Freedom is never given, it is taken 
Emancipate yourself from the claws of these terrible corrupt impostors,    




See the light of development sweeping the continents, advancement and 
            technological leap everywhere 
Our lots has been a cynosure of bandits, overtaken by fraud and moral turpitude 
Who will lead this banner to rescue us from the nebulous shame?  
Over us they bellow, Lording it, they Rule. 
Revolution is the Fear of the Oppressor, until the masses wake up from their 
            slumber.
End the reign of the bandits, masquerading as Leaders

A Taste of Death

They say that at 5:00 p.m.
   the dead come back to life
Were they actually dead --
   Do they really revive? 

Also, that sleep is a taste of death
   Pray tell, is it?
Does it taste like death?

We don't know what Death is
   We imagine it as best we can
Anthropomorphize it, as we do G-d
   We dehumanize, demystify -- Pity, that!

Ten Flies For Fun

solidify
dragonfly
mortify
horrify

glorify
amplify
beautify
simplify

demystify
intensify

butterfly
floating by

You Are the Milky Way

Each night I peruse the sky
Tilt my head way up high
Count the stars here and nigh
As if secrets to demystify
My heart it seeks to pacify

I search beyond each constellation
When sense in my heart primal agitation
And my pulse beats with acceleration
Because it’s there, the object of my aspiration

Right there before my eyes, my heart do console
I get to see you and talk to you as I stroll
Because I’ve recognized your essence, your soul

Larger than life, looking down on me, glory be
I still feel, though now angel-like, you embracing me

There is life after death, you are the Milky Way

Elated, I feel light and serene as a heavenly butterfly
Seek no further answers or dare question divination
Blissfully content to finally feel whole
Knowing you are here and there to perpetuity
Because there is life after death, you are the Milky Way



AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Submitted on May 26, 2018 for SKY POETRY CONTEST sponsored by ANTHONY SLAUSEN  -  RANKED 5TH

Submitted on February 5, 2018 for MINUANETTA POETRY CONTEST sponsored by GREGORY BARDEN  -  RANKED 3RD

Blind Bird

Following the herd
A blind bird
Turning away
With every nudge
With every puff
With every tick

An invisible wall
Obscuring the castles
Among the clouds
The endless sky
Lies far away

To its dismay
The birds ahead
Are the birds behind
Trying to see
The endless sky

To find
To unravel
To justify
To demystify
The meaning of their lives

The little bird
Seemingly gay
Witnessing the battles
Of heart and mind
To follow the herd
Or go astray

A cry for help
Confined to the wall
No one to listen
To our little blind bird
Following the herd

My Response To Rumi

"If you desire healing,
let yourself fall ill
let yourself fall ill."

Jalaluddin Rumi


Why, life is such, made of tricks and twisted ways
Life is such, made of sunny warmth and rainy days
Life is such
A blotch on our minds
A mystery
Waiting for the one to demystify it
A puzzle
Waiting for the one who would solve it!

However much ignorant am I of life and its ways
I can, though, fully ascertain
That life is meant not to be lived as if it were a ride
A ride down the river of sooth
A ride down there where love and peace thrives
Pray
Life is meant to be a torment
Life is meant to hassle us
Life is a disease and should we  
Want to be freed from its poisonous grip
Why, we should only follow its course
Indulge in it
Allow ourselves to be touched
To fall ill
To fall even more ill
So that, when faced with our insurmountable misery
Life shall itself open up
And allow us to be healed!
Yes,
Life shall itself open up its gates of wonder
And allow us to walk through them to the other worlds
Those worlds said to be made of eternal bliss!

Opomulero's Chalice

Travelling down the city, 
Sceptical why a honour is feast upon! 
My growing desire - an ecstasy to abyss
Quite an odd joy this parental care be , 
For its essence and canduor, I dare not mystify

Life, a mystique,
Dis chalice - mystique runs through! 

Honour bestowed on an enigma, 
Ecstasies rummaging the walls of prayer
for if chants be the spine of success,
Dis chalice be, then. 

The worship of a chalice beats the gods,
The echo of a chalice demystify terrors apart! 
For just like Jason in the Lost city - dear!
Opomulero's chalice - unending wave of clamour for mama's milk.
Opomulero's chalice - unending dance of marching grace! 

Opomulero's chalice - the only Elephant Opomulero can't stand its absence for long,

Oriiriibobo, I salute the Chalice.

Will I Be Wise

If I go to the library each day
and seek out the knowledge there on display,
reading all the newspapers come what may,
and listen to what others have to say?
Then, will I be wise?

If I let the children teach me their way,
drop my inhibitions, and learn to play;
and ask old folks before time slips away,
their secret to keeping doldrums at bay?
Then, will I be wise?

If I study nature's wondrous array
questioning space and the stars as they lay;
or unearth ancient pots made of clay,
recovering treasures of buried Pompeii?
Then, will I be wise?

If I demystify ancient Cathay,
deciphering riddles of yesterday,
and embrace all the prophets when I pray
absorbing all that their teachings relay?
Then, will I be wise?

If I condemn all wars, strife, and melee,
voicing my objections without delay;
upholding truths that I'll never betray,
finding the courage to walk from the fray?
Then, will I be wise?

Raving Glory

Sweet sugar lips
I miss your touch
Your sweet embrace
As much

Your kisses more than
Twice as much
Your loving twenty times
As much

You caring for the damned
Your struggle to demystify 
Your battle with my storm
I'm better for it now

Your soft and gentle touch
To lift my weary soul
Onto a loving nest
Of tender feelings

Your kind and gentle heart
To love me to all end
And above all else
Your raving glory

Rubik Cube

Yours is a horrendous bother
I decode one side, you obfuscate another!
I twist and turn, twist and turn again
Fingers engrossed around your parts, another twist
extirpates the other side! My enthusiasm refuses to wane.
I warp your shifting visage, weave the obliterated wrist,
Only succeeding to dislodge several faces,
I continue defacing your six surfaces…

In my euphoric endeavors to somehow unwind,
The unfathomable thoughts in your wavering mind,
I take manifold cyclical turns, like a brisk walk in fog,
Your complex anonymity refuses to unclog!
My flirtatious advances, don’t inveigle your resolve?
Chances to demystify you, in vain I solve,
I stare at your complacent maze,
you’re smug, with a mystic gaze!

Still in downright disarray
my curiosity, undone by dismay,
You’re unfazed, as you obliviously recline
Further inquests, but you obstinately decline!
I scrupulously ingest your manual again,
And brace for another futile try,
Why am I so smitten, as if to ascertain
If afterward, you’ll still be awry!?

© Maverick Nyambu

Sycamore Memories

Window covered by a sycamore tree
Constant friend of my snowy Maple days.
Memories spring as insects on a tree
Turn my gloomy days in glorious days

Hippocrates got his inspiration
for search in medicine he began.
Buddh sat under it for meditation
and enlightenment of mind to attain.
					
Desdemona sat sighing under it
in agony to hear willow song treat.
Flying to Egypt Mary stopped a bit.
Crann ban “Money tree” in Irish spirit.

To demystify health, to personalize,
To me sycamore is to poetize.

                        +++
December 2, 2014
Form : Sonnet {Iambic Pentameter)
Dr. Ram Mehta
Sixth Place Win
Contest: Structured Forms by Georgio V. Venetto

Rubik Cube

Yours is a horrendous bother

I decode one side, you obfuscate another!

I twist and turn, twist and turn again

fingers engrossed around your parts, another twist

extirpates the other side! My enthusiasm refuses to wane.

I warp your shifting visage, weave the obliterated wrist

only to dislodge several faces

I obligingly deface your six surfaces…

 

In my neurotic endeavors to unwind

the unfathomable thoughts on your wavering mind,

I take manifold cyclical turns in your opaque fog

Your stupor and anonymity declines to unclog!

My flirtatious advances don’t inveigle your obstinate resolve

Chances to demystify you haplessly dissolve,

In your complacent maze

and overwrought gaze!

 

Still in downright disarray

My fortitude, haunted by dismay!

You’re unfazed, you obliviously recline

Whilst my inquest continues to wriggle and whine!

I scrupulously ingest your manual again

and brace for another futile try,

Why am I so smitten, when I am already certain

You’ll still remain awry!

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