Guileless Poems | Examples

Naive Faith

Chose a Title; Naïve Faith, Sponsor – Edward Ibeh – 8-27-25
Naïve synonyms: callow, guileless, innocent, pure, genuine, honest, simple, sincere
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Naïve Faith

Callow faith walks with wide eyes
In playgrounds littered with stark cunning
When adorned innocence
Seeks to soar where angels fly
Not blinded by fool’s gold
Nor looted by evil’s glittery tinsel
Or minds darkened by drugs of ebony
That plagiarizes honesty
With rationalized temptations
In ravished glamour.

Artless faith, clothed by incorruptible purity,
Shivers when simplicity senses
A wrinkle in infinity - 
Guileless belief skirts gullible’s traps 
Clothed in a gift of sight.

When beastly motives
Try to sideswipe honesty
With glitz and jewels of paste
Dangling shiny promises with dark underbellies
Naive faith, clothed in discernment,
Sees with candid clarity.

The rose still blooms despite attacks
By mold or mildewed rust
The sun still wakes the dawn
Even when eclipsed
Crowned by a faultless corona
As stars refuse to enter black holes
Faith embraces the innocent.

Flower Blossoms

Pristine displays of petals glory peaked!!!
Quintessence virtues of radiance emerge
when crystalline enchantments unfold.
Guileless, flawlessness flowers give us
serenity blossoms to freshly fluff earth.

Contemplating paradise

glorifying days gone by
meanwhile wasting time
i’ve got nothing more than an alibi
to make sense of this paradigm

i’m betting on a future paradise
where starry moonlit nights entice
and sunshine saves the day
while guileless children play



AP: 3rd place 2025

Submitted on April 6, 2025 for contest STEVIE WONDER sponsored by KAREN JONES  (Pastime Paradise) -  RANKED 2ND

Sand promises

“Thousands of desperate migrants die in the desert and at sea, or fall victim to murderers and kidnappers, as they make their way along the ‘eastern corridor’ from Ethiopia to Saudi Arabia” - Fred Harter in Obock, Djibouti
------------------------------------------------------
Ethiopia through Djibouti
to Yemen, to hopeful life
runs Sun's angry route

A glum path to escape poverty
impulsive one-way journey
fear strengthens patience

keepers turned exploiters to smugglers
dump or sell or kill their dreams
new brokers fill hopes

shifting sand promises shift their goals
'Selling hair to purchase a comb'
no turning now, walk

starved, extorted, violated, yet
hearsays goad guileless hearts
burying truth, lies march

REASONING

Do what you like or want
But don't go beyond your limits 
Don't bite more than you can chew
Don't ride on another 
Because you got the powers 
God take vengeance, good always prevail.

Use what you have 
To get what you want or need
With integrity not dishonesty
guileless not cunning 
Reason before you decide 
Don't feed your negative traits 
Kill it with justice against cruelty.

Nature is seasonal 
People, money and more
They come and go at the right time 
Make use of your logic
Pause, reflect, then you act
Variety is the very spice of life
Don't disparage any, life is a mystery.

Whimsy

Whimsy catches the wind
Like a fall leaf, orangered and guileless 
And enters the house
Like a cat, confident but cautiously curious
To whatever it is that has made the wind.

As she catches sight of herself in the mirror, 
Her colorful hues glimmering,
She smiles knowing how numbered her days 
While lingering still in the present, ‘till 
With a gentle purr and flick of her tail she is gone.

Once a door is opened
The wind will oblige for as long as it may
Circulating in with the new, and out with the old
As whimsy rides on leaving her subtle scent
Musty as old leaves, musky as a Puss in Boots.

Cats are unique in having their own minds
A quality of solitary life
Even as they put on their royal airs,
Leaves on the other hand have no minds
Nor life once they have fallen.

Seasons after all flow like clockwork
To the rhythm of an unknown Maker 
Mysterious only in the little things
How long a leaf or cat might linger
On a wind felt but never seen.

(11/9/24)

The Myrtle Free verse-rondeau

The Myrtle sits 
single, lonely
at the crossroads
adorned
with one hundred
cobalt bottles;
waiting.
Evening soon comes
and gentle winds
blow softly
that Aphrodite
sings
her sweet, enticing song.
Weak, evil spirits;
guileless souls,
will, helpless,  
answer, her siren call.
Then trapped
Inside the bottle blue
'till dawn.
When morning sun will
seal their fate.

The Myrtle sits single alone
at a crossroads, somewhere unknown
adorned with bottles; cobalt blue
now, waiting as cool evening drew
soft winds across the tree are blown.

In time, Aphrodite's dulcet tone;
a sweet, enticing siren drone
will lure the guileless souls, where to
the Myrtle sits.

She trapped them all, the fools: that crone.
Fore early dawns, sun's rays were shown
their fate was sealed, and then anew
at some crossroad, where calm winds blew
waiting for mooncalves to dethrone;
the Myrtle sits

Poetic Hide and Seek

Are we but dancers on an unlit stage
Disclosing secrets hidden in the angst of now
Revealing the ups and downs of then.
Singing in the choir of the off key
Whistling past punctuations grave yard.
Our words a chant to taunt the demons
Remind them that we are still here
That we have words and are not afraid to use them.

Do we not hide behind, and within
Each metaphoric medley of madness
Bare the essence of an eager soul
In the nakedness of our ramblings?
Children clamoring for attention
Making mud pies, walking through puddles,
Bravely turning off the night light
Yet still afraid of the dark.

But for myself, I warn you, I am here
Within the words I blend together
A guileless garment maker
Obsessed by the texture of the threads
Stitching errant words together
Into this patchwork that is me.
For I am here, peeking from within the fabric,
Modeling each moment on an unlit stage.

Eunuch Encouragements

Elephant trunk palms column, canopy claps hands
   Undergrowth glad heart shape leaves spiral 
   Navigator vines map branches, brace boa banyan 
   Utile duenna diary with my duties conspiring 
   Chaperone rope binds silent beside my grand plan


   Helpmaster holsters my faltering stride, hips squared
   Essential weapon for war against mediocrity
   Netted fruit bag binds ideas, ripe inspiration shared
   Collaboration binges exchanges evocatively 
   Oversees growth, buffers fumbles, humiliation spared

  
   Unbias advisor straddles drama, miniscule mosquitos
   Raised beyond current, stilts lift clear of silt
   Above ravaging river, twig leg log cabin cosy kudos
   Guileless sunrise server castrates lumpy guilt
   Enmeshed mirror wishes bud symmetrical smiling rose

 
   Mentor each moment monitor prods my furtive dreams
   Enlivens rainblur haze, unravels twisted maze
   Narrows channel between now and zany zone supreme
   Twines possible to present, pours zesty praise 
   Strengthened, gender invalid, my meridian self esteem





                           9th June 
                    Carbonised Agenda

Most Beautiful Christmas Poem

Quilt mine, like thorny bush, went on hurting me hard,
It said: within this night you should become a bard!

Shall I write: of child unknown, like blooms from buds, born?
Should I write he is, like the eternal seed, bourne...?

Shall I crown His majesty, in my rustic terms?
Each of my heart-beat ever his glory affirms...!

I tried to sleep on hard prickly straw just to know,
How this child felt; I could not, yet, quite undergo...! 

Cows I have many at home; goats and black sheep too,
I couldn’t, yet, smell my sheep; Where? When? Who is who...!

One who comes is blessed I know, a guileless child,
Aren't embers restless within, though outwardly mild...???


23 November 2022 
MOST BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS POEM Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose

The Myrtle - Nw

The Myrtle sits 
single, lonely
at the crossroads
adorned
with one hundred
cobalt bottles;
waiting.
Evening soon comes
and gentle winds
blow softly
that Aphrodite
sings
her sweet, enticing song.
Weak, evil spirits;
guileless souls,
will, helpless,  
answer, her siren call.
Then trapped
Inside the bottle blue
'till dawn.
When morning sun will
seal their fate.



A Note In The Wind Poetry Contest; placed 3rd
Sponsored by: Charles Messina  
Date written: 29th October 2022

Desire and Aversion

Like two-sides of the same-coin are desire and aversion,
In daily psychic chores they are whole heart-mind immersion;
Desire is cause of all sufferings - Gautam Buddha claimed, 
Aversion involves heart and mind too; both should be well-tamed...!

Charming blooms, guileless creatures and colorful-scenes attract,
From glooms and pains and sufferings human heart does detract;
Feelings of facts and fancies should go ever hand in hand,
Doesn't an oasis sooth us from scorching desert sand...?

Happiness, sadness, fear, anger, surprise and some disgust,
Should be integral part of beings like love, hope and trust; 
Emotional equilibrium is like flesh-and-blood,
Lack of one leaves the body as though under-nourished bud...!

Prayer, pondering and optimism keep beings healthy,
Coherence and humility leaves inner spheres wealthy;
Right thought, word, action, contemplation and selfless service, 
And detachment can clench one's entire existence at ease...!


30 September 2022
Desire and Aversion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker

Child Footles

Sleepy,
Weepy,

Sweetie,
Cutie,

Babe drools.
It crawls,

On floor,
On four.

Burbles,
Gabbles,

Wets bed,
Cute bud!

Guileless,
Artless,

Chuckles, 
Giggles,

Grows up. 
Sits up.

Child walks.
Child runs.

Climbs up.
Falls down.

Naughty,
Haughty,

Spoiled brat!
Moppet!

Mom’s joy!
Dad’s toy!

God’s gift
World’s light!

________________


August.2.2022

~ Placed Tenth~

Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest

Thinking In Cliches Is Itself a Cliche

What have been sayin’
It's only Saturday 
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche

Father in the kitchen
Eats his check away
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche

Don’t you shake and shiver
When the hounds of order bey?
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche

God is dead, or in Toms River –
Any dumb excuse to pray
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche

Island people don't get ready
Wherever there's tsunami
They wait until that drawback gets all flushed

But back to your studies
Back to Bloom's Taxonomy
And the camouflage of sophomore girls’ first blush

It’s cartridge, pump and filter
It’s the dose in the ashtray
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche

All the post-its in your Rilke
Will not my respect sway
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche

Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Your hopeless, guileless, wretched pact of clay
The family-brand is over –
Say whatever you want but not “gay”
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche
Thinking in cliches is itself a cliche

Trees Weep When I Write

Trees weep when I write
knowing they pay a price
for each word, each line
each crumpled thought.
They cry as pencils,
worn to nub-like points
are cursed and banished.

Recycle barrels are not impressed
for racoons do not read poetry
fail to grasp the metaphor
of transient words
the alliteration of rhythms drumbeat
nor does the alley cat
serenade the windowed house cat.

An itinerant wind
may carry my poetry
crumpled in its pocket,
drop it somewhere
and by chance
a passerby take a peek.

And knowing this
I still write to sate
the insatiable appetites
of a guileless muse
for she knows not of the trees
or the oceans
lest I explore them for her
with her, because of her.
For we are lovers
of places only we can go
feelings only we can share
moments spent alone
exploring the blank pages
of poetic wondering.

John G. Lawless
©3/3/2020

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