Disquieted Poems | Examples

Nativist Riots, Kensington Philadelphia

Sit down, and let me tell you, son,
about the historic district, Kensington,
in the year eighteen-forty-four,
when the streets broke out in war. 

The Irish-Catholic were new arrivals,
impoverished, fighting for survival.
The existing population was disquieted,
and so, Philadelphia nativists rioted.

It was then that false rumors were passed.
In a bad light, the Irish were cast,
Propaganda and lies, the devil's tools,
"They want to remove the Bible from schools".

But son, these things wouldn't happen today.
We are enlightened, though let me just say,
if there is an unpleasant circumstance,
just blame it on the immigrants.

Wahala Yon Trouble Problem

Wahala  Yon Trouble Problem

Man, I am in hot water
In a jam wit out peanut butter
Nothing personal man
been in the soup up against it
Yet in all this N that 
I am renewed in Christ
Wahala  Yon Trouble Problem
Life's annoyance unpleasantness tribulation
I am of the perfect nation
we've hear a man born of woman is full of trouble
so in this in that unpleasantness annoyance
disquieted issues end results
blessedness
Wahala  Yon Trouble Problem

pidgin
Wahala  Yon Trouble Problem
 wahala  yon gbege wahala
man, i am for hot water
for a jam wit komot peanut butter
nothing personal man
been for di soup up against it
yet for all dis n dat 
i am renewed for christ
life's annoyance unpleasantness tribulation
i am for di perfect kontri
we've hear a man born for woman na full for gbege
so for dis for dat unpleasantness annoyance
disquieted wahala end results
blessedness

4/11/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©

Childhood Image

Their smiles beamed, for they dreamed together,
sharing Barbies, goodies, and even hands.
Aware of my aloneness, it seemed I wasn't there; 
even Brown Bear didn't understand.

Staring into a disquieted mind, I sulked my secluded self.


Translucent tears stained my face a pale gray,
as bleak as rain clouds, blocking sun's reach.
Furrowed brows, droopy cheeks, and thin lips 
transformed me into a monsterous beast.

Is this hideous, shunned image who I am?


Affixed friends would glow and float into true beauty
like sun painting the beach.
Their smiles were like whispy horizons, eyes glazed like sand granules, feet gliding like waves to the shore.

Are the pretty girls worth so much more?


3-6-2025

Us and Them

We are us,
They are them,
A complex mixture,
Of women and men,

We want peace,
They want war,
They don't abide by any law
No matter how much we implore,

It is clear
They do not want to hear,
What we have to say
They do not understand,

Things don't always go as planned,
We did not want this unrest,
Peace is what we like the best.
We have put on a brave face.

And keeping up with the pace,
With foes.
Who keeps us on our toes.
As we soldier on,

With spirit so strong.
Keeping faith that we will see
Our victory
Before too long.

Us United     Them disquieted.

Visage

Mortal bonds, the chains of flesh 
Shackle a weary spirit
To a crushing forlorn succession 
Of a failing in the means to find answers 
Any action, bound to be
A fruitless endeavor
Disquieted passerby
One gaze into a jaded pair of hollow eyes
As if viewing through a pair of stained windows
Of ornate painted glass
The visage, like the empty pews
Of a magnificent cathedral 
Of agonizing sorrow 
that which never ends 
Blunting the edge of indescretion
I will find no relief 
Ceaselessly lamenting 
dismally spiraling 
Into loathing lol self reflection
Catatonically stricken 
By the weight of calamity
Ironically symbolized
To illustrate a trend
Bending will, I broke it.
I chagrined in disbelief.
mortality, transcendence

Imaginations of Solitude

"Like the silence that screams, cursing solitude
... whispers of faith sing patiently with prayers"

                                              Regina McIntosh

IMAGINATIONS OF SOLITUDE

The scream, his palms unleashing Danse Macabre.
The sinister skeletons tapping digits
 against the ebon glow of candelabra.

The sinister skeletons tapping digits.
Ten bore into his human brain, the echoes
of full violin’s disquieted widgets.

Ten bore into his human brain. The echoes
releasing...releasing a wing and a pray’r -
elongated shadowbrush of El Greco.

Releasing...releasing a wing and a pray’r,
those fierce flexuous hues - the Spirit of grace.
The phantasm flees - a disturbed boneyard despairs.

Those fierce flexuous hues - the Spirit of grace.
His countenance resounding to see God’s face.

1/28/2021
HEARTS UNIVERSE
SPONSOR: REGINA MCINTOSH
HMS - 11 syllables each line

Painting The Scream by Edvard Munch

Quietus

In a mire brewed
betwixt puddles of hell and mute dissent 
a martyr wades - 
weighed down by chains of shame and disdain
alas the thirsting self-absorbed swamp
distills and swills her stewed silence 
and swallows the last embers 
from her goblet of dreamer’s fire 

pursed breaths are pickpocketed by the shallows  
in a breathless vertical twist 
an escapist is lost in the swirl of a chambered nautilus 
distanced and deserted in the dance of descent

stillness belies the waterline’s greed 
as a heroine’s salvage is suffocated -
the slick of self-appointed apathy anoints the surface
and a disquieted wind rises to bend the will of reeds 
their flutes airing plainsong in forced supplication 
yet carelessly cast away like spindrift from broken crests
while storm clouds blindfold wide-eyed skies
stifling any play of sun on water


Susan Ashley
May 1, 2020


~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 1
Sponsor: Mark Toney


~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Spiral
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann

The Executioner Sq

The Executioner
-Walter Rossman

Wield I do, this executioner's blade
one could even hear the faint stirs of a violin played
with sadistic elan, and sense fear on this man's face, concealed,
this executioner's blade, I do wield.

When I bring it down, many a head fall
yet today, I'm frightened, unlike protocol,
through the veil,in his eyes I see a plea for mercy, i feel my conscience frown 
many a head fall when I bring it down.

And I am sweating, this man's eyes tear me apart,
almost asking, "For the innocent man I am, have you no heart?",
it continues, "for these people, weakly cheering, I've been fighting"
This man's eyes tear me apart, and I am sweating.

The blade refuses to budge, I am defeated
I ask myself, how can I replace God Himself, and am disquieted
and this angel of a man, in him I see no grudge
I am defeated, the blade refuses to budge.

A peaceful smile appears, as the soldiers make their way
his face wrought with victory, him I wish to embrace
he knows he will die today, but he has no fears
as the soldiers make their way, a peaceful smile appears.

In Horror the Children Cry

The cruel beastly fire 
Blazed the land of the earth,
Shattered many sinless lives,
And orphans they become everyday,
But they are yet to be motherless,
Since many more mothers in the planet 
Earth are with them  
With soothing hearts,

In dread and horror our children cry,
The heat blotted out their tears—their weeping, 
An infernal wind it created in the abode of mankind,
Its ghastly look our children fear, 
An impious havoc it inflicted upon them!
Their hearts cry, blazon severe pain,
Twisted many motherly hearts,
Who are not very far from them!

All agonized despaired children 
Wanted some water to quench their thirst. 
In fear, in the shadows of night
They fell asleep, no drinking water,
Nowhere, we hope in one morn they’ll wake up
With the heralds of triumph, with water to drink,
with smile in the lips and
Peace in many disquieted mothers’ hearts.


Dedicated to the children of Syria.

Just One Touch Lord

Though I am troubled by problems and cares,
My soul is disquieted, and I offer prayer.
Lord, my only son is very sick, and needs your touch
I ask for your help, for I love him so much.

He is my only son Lord, and I am a widow too.
I don’t want to worry you, but I don’t know what else to do.
Just one touch Lord, I’m sure that he’ll be healed.
Lord I ask you with Faith, Just say the word and let your glory be revealed.

Imprisioned Mind

Swirling conscience
twirling,endless motions
infinite commuting commotion
tranquil,sweet Mother nature serene peaceful scenes 
disquieted murmur of clouded dreams
swimming with trepidation in the worlds murky sea
obviously forgetting natures high's, and beautiful trees
noisy ruckus, anxiety ridden uncivilized under sea
feeling's for emancipating for needs
beautiful, pristine of nature will agree
enticing, alluring, seductive, she wants your peace   
imprisoned mind's cannot see what beauty lies for our smothered souls too see.

How Sure Can This Be

”It may not be what I want
It may end up just like the last one
Not even sure he is the one
Staying back seems my only level ground”

The struggle between desire and certainty
Is now fiercer than once conceived
Toughened by whispering experiences
Hopping out from the now disquieted heart

Shadows of the past once buried deep down
Reawakened and vividly hunting
Now you are about to cross that bridge
And avoid the river in whose depths you almost drowned

Hiding since then within your safe shell
Makes you feel secured and warm in the cold night.
Sun rays now beaming seem to catch your eyes
But you can’t but quiver at the thought of the scotching sun.

This thing has eaten up you till the plate became so empty.
Seen so happy and friendly yet no remedy.
But you can’t continue to starve for fear of poison.
You have to take that step even when you see no landing.

Then only will you experience the freedom of trust,  
The joy in risks and the relief an extra hand can bring.
Don’t forget, the proof of the pudding is in the eating
It is now left for you to pick a cutlery.

I Must Have Dreamed You Here

Thy love hath possessed me, and consumed mine every thought. 

An inescapable prisoner; handed an irrevocable sentence of love.

Thy memory hath become my ever constant companion, my dearest friend.  

My imagination carries mine heart to thee.

I have dreamt thee so close that I could almost hear the beat of thy heart.

How strong the illusion and how intolerably cruel when it vanishes in the night.

I languish in love and longing akin to pain.

I reach for thee in my dreams only for you to disappear on the whim of a touch.

Mine soul is disquieted in me; a raging storm of rapture and despair.

How long, shalt I mourn for thee? How long till I hold more than your memory?

Tis more than I can bear, but alas I will close mine eyes to sleep ,and once again 

meet you there.

The Moon Looked Like a Cat Burglar

The moon looked like a cat burglar that crisp November night;
clear skies but for one dark band splashed across his sight. 
His guise arcane and sinister, and try hard as I might, 
I couldn't help but wonder who he'd prey upon with spite. 

An air of eerie stillness fell, as he cast cool silver light, 
foretelling of his felony, contriving someone's cruel plight. 
His luminance trespassed the land as he rose to his full height; 
a meticulous surveillance to plan his act of sleight. 

Disquieted I crept inside, closed the door, pulled curtains tight, 
still his glow transuded every room setting all my fears alight. 
Adrenalin took over, but far too scared to fight, 
I sheltered 'neath the duvet to wait for morning bright. 

Next morn I tiptoed down the stairs, fists clenched, my knuckles white, 
but everything was in its place, the moon had taken flight. 
I don't know why he visited, maybe just to be polite, 
but I had uneasy feelings he'd return at next twilight.


**for 'Monorhyme Madness'

Poetry

You are my poetry; sapphire blue, sandlewood scented ink, 
painting you and I cradled in intimate metaphors,
though you lay thousands of miles away; 
storing urgent longings of my heart in ardent daydreams, 
till tender moments can be shared, and made legendary.

Words come spilling, clinging together, from memory,
flowing through my trembling hands; 
writing I love you backwards and forth,
scribing you as the most fragile part of me,
yet my strongest connection. 

I write you beautiful in imagery; 
Nairobi gold; the blazing noon sun,
the black velvet curtains drawn round me,
never to be disquieted, hour of midnight;
inhales and exhales that slip from my lips as low moans.

You are my poetry, the fevered forbidden dance
etched upon pages as detonating verses with passionate probes, 
till words become silent, where they have no place.
And I let pen fall from hand, to dare dream real
behind the veil of my eyes, as I lay me down.

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