Long Inexplicably Poems

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The Curse of the Loved Ones

THE CURSE OF THE LOVED ONES

Three bears witness in the patio of love:
The loved, the unloved and the extinguisher.
For some, quite inexplicably,
It's a song that fades untimely or premeditatedly,
For others love is simply lost,
And it could also be found even just for a night
The intoxications of him who has a hole in his pocket.
And another, it is the crudest kind;
The one that almost kills it victims,
It's the unrequited love.
Most stories are about those who fall in love with each other
But how about those that fall in love alone?
They are the victims of the one-sided affair,
The unloved ones but loved ones,
The wandering walking wounded -
Handicap of the advantage of a great parking space.
Unlike the ones who keep saying:
'The right person will come' (I think a truck hit yours)
Whereas, bypassing the available and harmless "signpost",
Then becoming a cursed Cupid;
Those who despite the pleas of conscience
And despite my sacrifice & heroics -
I broke my ribs to make a pen,
Write long lasting lovely lofty letters,
Rip off my flesh to make a paper
And took out my blood to make an ink.
I never forget a face for free besides femmes fatales
But I make an exception in your case.
Though it takes a strong heart to love,
It takes a stronger one to continue to love after its been broken.

VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©2014.
Form: Narrative


Premium Member The Great American Disgrace

While the oceans are churning
The world above is slowly burning
Flags of freedom have turned white
Giving up before they even fight

At the expense of the American dream
We've sold our future for an American meme
They don't care about me, nor you, nor us
As they round us up to get on the bus

Our children are full of cancer
And mothers beg for answers
So offer prayers to a do nothing God
Standing before the firing squad

But it sure is great we're no longer woke
As the American dollar tanks and we're broke
The world has descended into insanity
By a leader trapped in vanity

Some fight to be free
While others inexplicably fail to see
We sell friends to dictators
To become the world's traitors

And don't you dare hide your face
From the Great American Disgrace
Flags of freedom have turned white
Damned by cowards who can't fight

Premium Member I Dreamt of You Or Was It Your Whisper

I dreamt of you last night.
Or were you whispering to me?
Musty mist swirled around, 
Feverish fog muddled my vision.
In panic, I dreamt I could not find you.

I searched into the labyrinth of my mind,
Where spectral haze impeded me.	
I combed the place and crawled, 
To the center of a mighty solid maze
And found that I was utterly lost.
Why can’t I hear your loving whispers?

Then, in a faint sliver of a wan moon ray,
I thought I caught a chimerical glimpse of you,
Head shaven, opaquely dressed
In a dark yellow caustic gown.
Inexplicably the light went out and you were gone.
 
Happiness was so easily accessible to me,
But I spurned all favorable occasions.
I turned my back to your silken caresses,
I ignored your passionate kisses.
Yet you still whispered sweet nothings to me.

And now I search for the inaccessible.
I search for what my soul yearns.
Why do I limp with blazing eyes?
Why do I lament what I have lost?
 
Yes, I dreamt of you last night.
And then I woke, covered in sweat,
Trembling with fear, you were near me
Whispering comfort, soothing my hair,
Showering inexhaustible ardor,
Caressing with your gentle hands,
Drowning me in ecstasy, in abundant joy,
Until dawn streamed its exuberant lights.

15 July 2021
WHISPERS Poetry Contest 
Sponsor: John Lawless



Placed straight 5 out of 10

Premium Member Faded

FADED

I was visible once
but now one of the forgotten ones.
I faded away slowly
imperceptibly,
like the once vibrant colour of blue jeans.
My edges frayed 
as I walked along the road of fleeting popularity.
I felt my fabric thinning
until I became comfortable.
It made me kinda cool in a way.
I was paired with shirts and sweaters
until a time later other clothes seemed better.
My holes became too noticeable,
instead of somewhat perceptible.
The day came
when I was just a bit out of style.
So you washed and folded me
carefully put me on a shelf.
After all, I was a favourite.
No one wants to throw a favourite away.
Right there in the closet I stayed,
next to all the pretty new things.
I waited
craving  the day 
you might wear me again.
But somehow,
things just are what they are.
Faded old blue jeans
inexplicably disappear.
If you ever do find them
you smile and remember
how they made you feel.
Sadly though,
when you try them on,
they just don't fit anymore.

Emotional Onset Surges Like Tsunami 1st Wave

Unbeknownst tummy why, (around
about 2200 hours October 5th, 2018),
     a slew of forgotten incidents quasi
lee linkedin, and questionably
     nsync, though lightly browned

     with Alfred Lord Tennyson's,
     "The Charge of the
     Light Brigade" - ("found"
via Google search), nonetheless,
     said decades old reminiscences

     and remembrances, viz
     early father forcefully
     came barging unstoppably,
     and furiously galloping
     out of the blue - painfully crowned

ning me noggin like 
     a crash test dummy
     on the prowl akin
     to a frenzied blood hound
tearing at light speed - unbound
(defying laws of physics) just now

     forgotten instances I feebly
     try to expound
     inexplicably purportedly
buried in a “mound”
long forgotten everyday details,
     when all my (deux than

     young restless) children abound
did with limitless energy ground
me with fatigue as the world turned,
     two beautiful hearts lovingly pound
ding with oblivious innocent bliss,

     ah such ordinariness unwound
recollections roared back resound
ding lee - into my mind 
     with out a sound
re: collections long since past 

     suddenly didst rib bound
did (mainly, when thee and the Punim
     spent time at playground
as young little girls),
     who oft times found,

     ye or Shana clamoring
     for this dada to push
     both of thee simultaneously
     on the swing or merry-go-round,
or later on during that evening,

     or another occasion found
the three of us
     laughing (ho...ho...ho...) as we played
     one or another round
of Mancala, Uno, Scrabble,

     Sorry, (where this papa clowned
no matter, he got his game pieces round
lee sent homeward bound),
     those supposedly forgotten
     days of yore suddenly rumbling

     within thy inner sanctum all mound
joyless deep under ground
     came barreling thru my psyche
     analogous to a class 5 hurricane
     like gang busters
    lashing out and drowned
at my whole being.


Leaves

Autumn leaves fall down, 
Ready, expected, aware: 
You would never question the event, 
Or climb a tree to pull one off, 
And then place it on the ground.   
So why question suffering? 
A universality so common and random, 
Just to be received and convincing. 

Nature is natural, 
Both greenery and living organisms, 
So why pull them out of the world, 
Away from their context - both good and bad, 
To make them the the ones to blame? 
Not communally, but individually, 
Unknown to their surroundings inexplicably. 

Evolution sets us up by time, 
With nature as itself, 
Not determined or bold or pointing, 
But just perfect: 
Interacting and relational, 
Becoming better and better every day: 
Stronger, more intelligent and more moral. 

John Keats’ Nightingale represents nature, 
Because it gives voice to that beauty and majesty, 
In song, so expressive and unaffected and free, 
Encouraging us to think rationally about suffering: 
The bird’s music is so fair and equalising - 
For anyone, open to all in its accessibility, 
Allowing us to feel and think through poetry.
Form: Rhyme

God the Father is Able

God answers miraculously, and powerfully!
Suddenly, inexplicably, amazingly
God the Father is able beyond all measure
God gave us the Kingdom of God
Before the foundations of the world!
God is able because we are His Workmanship and 
We were prepared beforehand for good works for His Glory!

God the Father is our Source
God is able
His Grace is Sufficient and 
His Love is Supreme!

We have His Power working in us
God is the One we can Trust and 
We can have boldness and confidence 
Through Faith in Christ Jesus

God the Father is Able 
He can do that which must be DONE
© Mark Frank  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Black As Black

Wherever comes this strange, black chill
an overwhelming desire at the brink
inexplicably drawn and curious to sink
into the abyss of an unknown cavern?

Weighty and darker than the deepest sea
from blackest ink of a moonless night
its mystery surrounds, as I take flight
under solemn layers of silent secrets. 

Vision now vanishes, only touch to replace 
for there are no images to embrace 
nor sights to trace in this wretched place
a devilish black hole with an evil face. 

Black upon black looms ever on 
hemmed within slick and craggy walls
black bats shriek, the midnight hour calls
as I stumble into the black void of a forever fall.

Random Acts of Kindness

(alternately titled “How art thou dear reader?”)

(Inexplicably triggers domino effect
and doth indirect
lee send favorable
     ripples vibrantly unchecked.)
vagaries of an uncertain
     today or tomorrow
     excites this scribe,
     with a whim

analogous to sensational leitmotifs
     introducing note worthy
     composition melody,
     and/or lyric with vim
and vivacity, particularly
     to avoid behavior
     being predicable, and also
     (more importantly for)

     to partake of the vast trim
ming of life, (not just those
     reserved for holiday time),
     where every day provides
     an opportunity, no matter slim,
and/or fat chance to bring,
     (or deliver a smile)
     via friendly gesture accompanied

     with a kind word
     such as "hello,"
cuz no cost involved being friendly
     to a self absorbed passersby
     alighting, and enabling
stark contrast day, sans
     gloom and doom uttering,
     an innocuously neutral

     greeting to bring
a dollop of good
     day (not simply,
     those festive occasions
     (mainly and most 
     optimally, favorably,
     and conveniently during)
Thanksgiving, and/or Christmas,

     but any given evening
no matter the season if only to fling,
(albeit verbally) one or more glee
full spontaneous vocalization -
     (USDA NON GMO,
     gluten and monosodiumglutimate free)
surprising yourself (myself

     in this case) voluntarily prithee
boost interpersonal 
     social awkwardness,
     perhaps even offering
     to lend a helping hand re
garding circumstance,
     where an individual
     might be contending
 
     with something obviously
beastly, heavy, and/or
     unwieldy to manage
despite the outcome, where
     no response 
     might be forthcoming,
maybe experiencing feeling
snubbed without letting
     air of indifference
     (from recipient) sting!

Premium Member Natural Treasure

The sight of a tree has been known
to move people to tears of joy,
while others, inexplicably, see it
as something only to destroy.

But here is an inescapable fact:
when we help trees to grow and thrive,
they certainly return the favor
by helping us all to stay alive.

When we gaze out our windows,
they are a welcome canopy of green,
and (did you know?) they filter our water
making it clean, clear and pristine.

And on those warm sunny days
as you go on a leisurely promenade,
trees provide natural air conditioning;
who doesn't love a walk in the shade?!

In these days of climate change,
we need trees more than ever.
Only a fool thinks they're an annoyance.
Fact is, a tree is a natural treasure.
© Jim Healey  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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