Long Unabashedly Poems
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my makeup was fabulously light green, lips ruby red
I fit in well with the theme, witches, warlocks and the undead
the blue I had sprayed in my hair glittered like starlight
when we entered the party, a gang began a quick fight
my witch hat was pointed at an odd funny angle
could I get a dance? Just one maybe wrangle?
I looked at my husband whose nose gave a twitch.
I looked fabulous as a sexy, gorgeous young witch
my husband dressed as Dracula with cape and red tie
he watched me dance with another, we both wondered why
the rest of the night my man spun me around the floor
I had not danced in a while, my legs and heart said we wanted more.
My friend laughed at our exuberance yelled out “get a room!”
I gave her a gentle tap on the head with my yellow straw broom.
the food was delicious, the drinks were cold and refreshing.
my husband’s eyes were on me, I knew he was undressing.
funny to me, since we already had two babies at home.
the next thing I knew, I was picked up by a gnome.
The gnome ran off with me to the ladies room to gab.
she had a lot to tell me, and she wanted to blab.
this was a Halloween party provided by my school.
At our principal’s house, and he was now a fool.
Made silly by drinks, which went straight to his head.
His wife was so embarrassed, she sent him to bed.
teacher friends were dressed as goblins, super heroes, and a ghost.
We all discussed unabashedly the craziness of our elusive host.
He was a shy guy, and would be embarrassed to death about this.
A cobra slithered up to me and tried to speak with a hiss.
Nancy! I was delighted, she was my best pal at school.
She had a lot to confide about our nemesis, Mr. O’Toole.
O’Toole was walking around saying dumb things to everyone.
Speaking with Nancy about him was incredibly fun.
My husband was devouring everything off a huge silver tray.
Tidbits and appetizers in black, orange, yellow, and gray.
two jack-o-lanterns were giving me a clever candle wink.
I felt cute tonight, happy, totally energetic, and in the pink.
we had a sitter that night for the first time since our second baby.
Do you want to go home yet? I stared at my man. “No, yes, maybe.”
With two children at home under the age of two, this was a delight.
A marvelous Halloween party that made me feel happy and right.
As a teenager, I was so lean and lanky.
My mother worried over my physical stature.
She believed that all the nutrients in my diet,
were rapaciously devoured by my hair.
From childhood onwards, I had long, thick hair
that cascaded down my back like a jumping cataract.
Each time I got ready for school in my uniform,
my mom had trouble plaiting it into two pigtails.
After school, it took much of my time to tease apart the strands,
release and unbind, what my mom had so neatly done.
She wanted to cut my hair short, I too agreed
as it took so long for me to have my hair dried after every bath.
(It was a time when we had not even heard of hair dryers!)
When I conveyed my mom’s decision to my friends,
they said in unison- “Your long hair is your sole attraction,
we are all jealous of you for it. If you cut it
you’ll be like a sheep after its fleece is sheared,
Oh, so ugly”
My hair was straight like stick, black and glossy without even a curve.
I was so upset about it as curly hair was what everyone preferred,
in a village without the ‘refinement’ and sophistications of urban life.
After every long journey, I had to spend hours clearing the tangles of my hair.
When I entered college, my hair became my distinguishing mark.
All referred to me as ‘the girl with long hair’ and it became my identity.
Girls from cities had begun frequenting parlours for straightening their hair
I was happy I had natural straight hair without recourse to artificial means
Thus, for the first time, I began feeling proud of my hair.
I spent hours before the mirror, admiring my hair and tying it in styles, varied.
Also started wearing it with my chin up and flaunting it unabashedly.
When I joined college as a lecturer, I could hear exclamations of ‘wow’
from my students, whenever I turned to the black board to write something,
and my silly feminine heart fluttered in vanity like a peacock.
Before long, silver threads began to peek here and there.
When they came in one and two, I plucked them away.
But Time, like a mischievous imp began to play nasty games.
In a couple of years, I was all grey and now I thrive on hair dye.
Indeed, a messy job! To make things easy I have cut my hair short.
Sad, my mother is not there to see me in short hair!
Manila folder,
Growing older,
Lying on table,
Watching other files,
Grow bolder,
It was earlier looked upon,
Now ignored,
As if it was dead,
After a bloody gore,
They had submerged in its custody,
A lot many papers and notes,
Carrying dates and events,
About people and of people,
Some body took a decision,
And others left them for future,
It needed for a full view,
Lot of sutures,
Perplexed and seeing its capacity,
They had simply affixed a label,
And left it at storage level,
Years went by in vain,
Lot others joined it in graveyard,
Not for short but pretty long,
Saying has it that every dog has its day,
It so happened that while the manila folder lay gathering dust,
One of the persons not decided upon with in the manila,
Had grown in stature and length,
Either through effort ,luck,relation or lust,
He had reached where he was,
He beckoned all signatures in the manila,
And sought his dues,
If it was not forthcoming,
Then he waved a thick stick,
All signatures rushed to look for manila,
They raised dust and dusted files for long,
Opportunist men got their way,
And having found manila,
Gave a full blooded bay,
As they chuckled in delight,
The 'big man' came around for another fight,
Now they were scared to no end,
And turned the pages of manila,
They frantically looked,
Where they had signed and not,
Where they did not they did,
And some places where they had,
Got it erased,
Manila was theirs,
So what if 'money' was his,
Finally manila was in demand,
And used and gored,
Like a happy whore,
Manila looked askance,
At the door to graveyard,
Where it had spent years in exile,
Before getting this 'exciting while',
Then to top it all,
The Manila had its final big ball,
The day came,
When the big man came to undo his last fall,
He held the Manila lovingly in his palms,
Which were wet and warm,
In anticipation of lot of money caused calm,
His greedy and beady eyes,
Warmed each curve of manila,
As manila coyly smiled unabashedly smiles vanilla,
The swarthy and mean big man,
Saw his words,
Understood them well,
Kept them digested in mind,
Looked disdainfully,
At frightened signatures,
And voila! Tossed the manila folder,
From where he stood,
Back in graveyard to grow older.
video of "Ironic" is for my 'Cinco De Mayo' contribution.
Alanis Morissette, emotive mezzo-soprano voice
and confessional songwriting with a feminist’s choice
Canadian, nineties rock-star famous for Jagged Little Edge
Raw naked cringe-y to the profound, empowering by virtue I pledge
(She’s helped countless women and girls to find their voices, to speak out, and to take up space)
Thank you India
symbolizing spiritual awakening and enlightenment
Thank you terror
acknowledge the challenging and painful aspects
Thank you disillusionment
of life that can lead to growth and wisdom
Thank you frailty
highlight vulnerability and accountability as essential
Thank you consequence
components of personal development
Thank you silence
suggests finding peace and clarity through
introspection and contemplation
let go of something burdensome, which ultimately leads
to personal growth and transformation
A pivotal moment, represents as a turning point
where she gains a new perspective and begins to understand
the value of forgiveness, living in the present, and embracing her own divinity
How 'bout me not blaming you for everything?
blame the moon, release unriquited love and like a bird that doesn't know where their home is, fly away
How 'bout me enjoying the moment for once?
How 'bout how good it feels to finally forgive you?
How 'bout grieving it all one at a time?
Thank you frailty
The moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it
Was the moment I touched down
How 'bout no longer being masochistic?
How 'bout remembering your divinity?
How 'bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out?
signifies emotional release and catharsis,
suggesting that facing and processing emotions
is crucial for personal evolution
How 'bout not equating death with stopping?
Thank you nothingness
Thank you clarity
Thank you, thank you silence
Ladies sing along with the goddess Alanis
Thank U Providence
Thank U Canada
Thank U Alanis Morissette
Within Passion's Dream
A Collaboration with Michael P. Clarke (Vladislav Raven)
Within Passion's Dream I hold you close beside the Ocean of Love.
I behold God's heavenly stars and they hold not the beauty of your temple.
You are the glory in my every thought and dream,
let me taste of your divine lips and love shall flow.
Come dance with me through love's divinity;
oh beauty of my heaven your love does sing.
You are all my tomorrows wrapped in a beauteous dream,
come my beloved in the love we share Within Passion's Dream.
Within Passion’s Dream, you are eternally mine,
as we nestle in the ardent arms of an orange-adorned full moon.
Let me enrapture you with the warmth of my legs and breasts,
entwining you in my vines, drinking deeply from the goblet of love.
Electrified by your sensuous caresses that awaken all my senses,
my beloved, your essence seeps into the pores of my very soul.
Whirling in ecstasy from the sweetness of honeydew kisses,
we twinkle through a star-studded Milky Way Within Passion’s Dream.
Within Passion's Dream I am enraptured by our love,
your temple joining with mine in a passion primal in its bearing.
Let stardust caress us as in love's magic we dwell,
your lips on mine and divinity's song is sung.
I lose myself in the eyes of an angel's face,
swimming deep within memories vision.
One heart, one soul, paradise our aim,
I find your eternal beauty ever before me Within Passion's Dream.
Within Passion’s Dream, I behold the wonder that is you,
sprinkling sunbeams and moonbeams showering me with your love.
Bodies and souls merging, we waltz to melodies
of a celestial symphony divinely orchestrated.
Like juicy golden grapes on a ripened vine,
unabashedly spurting their syrupy sweet wine,
tender tendrils of our love do gently unfold and
our hearts chime in rhapsodic harmony Within Passion’s Dream.
01-18-2017
Poem of the Day - 01-20-2017
Note: Mike wrote the 1st and 3rd stanzas, while I wrote the 2nd and 4th stanzas.
Thank you my friend, Mike for inviting me to collaborate with you on this piece, for your wonderful inspiration, and making it easy for me!
Upon revelation’s flight
Under Orion’s focus
I witness a fiery glow towards familiar horizons.
‘Tis no sunrise
It is a striking reality.
My saddened retinas witness monochromatic pitchforks,
Desolated screams,
Embellished declarations from misguided leaders
And self-made stallions riding into condescending sunsets
Without any earned punctuation to be taken seriously
A House of Eroded Representatives
A village of One
A village of souls
Pushing
Back
…
There was a home upon these well-worn landing strips.
This was my home.
But, these forged rooftops now taste
Withering, hurricane gusts of red velvet cake’s mold
Rusted nails forcibly detached from honored foundations
Unto egotistical coffins
The reality
Shining through meter-less corruptions
Comes full circle
Small doses of poisonous vendettas
Fed from tarnished, silver spoons
Echoes of Cuban Fidel
Lace elasticity of “open arms”
With onyx, unfiltered coffee drops
Coating infant’s petulant lip
Witnessing cotton-less sheep walking with listless fervor
Towards silenced, condemned “Noahs”
I signal pilot within my melancholic wisdoms
To redirect our flight
To a new horizon
To an unsheltered domain
Where even waterfalls still allow
Conducive verbiage to rise
Amongst the unabashedly meek
To a destination
Where stature is defined by all
Not by one
Where character
Is developed under accountabilities’ pen
Where high horses & curtained theatrics
Are the only victims of banned tomorrows
Where honor
Is still defined
Without deleted, impulsive banter
Where friendship,
Love,
Wisdom,
Memories,
Shine
…
Because
Things
Things are no longer the same
Things are no longer the same
Things are no longer the same.
©Drake J. Eszes
“And my ties are severed clean. The less I have, the more I gain. Off the beaten path, I reign.” –Wherever I may Roam by Metallica (my lifelong song)
Balmy january fifth two thousand twenty three
pardon moi as I self plagiarize
with slight modifications
cuz following words written
at least an Earth's orbit ago
exhibits pearls of jocularity.
I ran than jumped high
into the upper atmosphere
like a faux young American
landing on the lunar surface
frisky buck naked and bare
no matter weight of world
and personal woes oppressive,
yours truly shrugged,
(she loves you yea... yea... yea...
think Atlas) "faking" without care
free, able, eager, ready, and
willing to dare
daubing, muddying, and wading
metrical feet into stream
of consciousness (think)
metaphorical earthenware
placid figurative smooth as glassware
reflecting mine mien
mean disheveled hare
reed state of swiftly tailored body,
mind and spirit long
acclimated, accompanied,
and accustomed
with mental, physical,
and spiritual malfunctions
ever since birth,
(or even in utero), where
biological mutations did interfere
easily availing self
as token "scapegoat
school kids did taunt and jeer
futilely screeching nevertheless
targeted and doomed killdeer
lamely seeking safety, albeit laughable
pencil necked geek longhair
donned as outdated "hippie"
lame excuse for cheesy mouseketeer
every day of younglife (mine) wanted
me "mommy dearest" near,
cuz yours truly
felt like kin outlier
one lonely human
being within alienation
forever seeking salvation
courtesy wing and prayer
ill fitting analogous to round hole
raised to accept unconventional
credo, gospel (according
to Matthew) mores as quare
figurative peg thus revere
ring boyhood, because
growing up scare
re: especially as
undersized withdrawn tear
huff eyed little lad
donning monogrammed underwear
“enlightenment touché”
honoring inimitable Voltaire where
he unabashedly espoused
freedom of religion,
freedom of expression,
and separation of church and state.
Listing A Personal View Of What Poetry Is
1. Poetry is a stone,turned to expose to searching winds once hidden earth.
Robert J. Lindley
2. Poetry is art, mind painted, heart colored and fire risen.
Robert J. Lindley
3. Poetry is a fruit, hanging on a bountiful tree, begging to fall.
Robert J. Lindley
4. Poetry is an ever expanding ocean, begging ever more creatures to swim in its swirling depths.
Robert J. Lindley
5. Poetry is cake on a golden platter, eaten with fork, spoon, butter knife or greedy hands.
Robert J. Lindley
6. Poetry is cherry blossoms, crying for the soft, cool winds to wave their beauty to the awaiting sun and the gasping skies.
Robert J. Lindley
7. Poetry is glistening dewdrops falling upon virgin ground to gift dawn's hope and night's desire to match brilliance of falling moonbeams.
Robert J. Lindley
8. Poetry is man's heart and soul uniting to bless others, while temporarily shielding searching souls against this dark world's poison tipped arrows.
Robert J. Lindley
9. Poetry is brightly sent musical notes that heart sees, mind colors and spirit longs to record.
Robert J. Lindley
10. Poetry is ink blotted, soul driven splashes that cry to be read, beg to be understood and unabashedly sings to give to its readers.
Robert J. Lindley
11.Poetry is a colorful bird, in heavenly flight to a paradise that awaits man's sincere pleading heart and desirous spirit.
Robert J. Lindley
12. Poetry is a child happily playing, a mother joyfully singing and a father blessed to have and so very dearly appreciate loving both.
Robert J. Lindley
Robert J. Lindley, 7-17-2018
Subject, ( What Poetry Is)
Note- This was inspired by reading, The Name Forsakes Me's blog this morn.
Which lists 50 famous quotes on what poetry is.
'Killing" time while homebound until...,
a cure gets distilled and/ or found
for pandemic, thus... I expound.
(Yupper - courtesy coronavirus CORVID-19),
how ja guess my good smear it in friend?! -
within Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania
toyed with thought to withhold or send
hmm... perhaps superstitious end
synonym with ominous trend,
methinks hoop fully auspicious,
and synonym with propitious will not abend
mine luckless mien kampf,
cuz the latter two similar lend
heft well woolworth
their weight in gold - words,
would moost notably, likely,
and heavily portend
toward disastrous, disadvantageous, disharmonious...
to Matthew Scott Harris,
whose time on Earth would
uninhibitedly, uneventfully, and unabashedly end
(ous ending intimating "possessing, full of...")
in this case foreboding...,
yours truly rendered permanently
incapacitated to offend
sense and sensibilities
honorable sacred tenets to poetics
tantamount to committing sacrilegious sin
if hypothetically practiced orthodox church goer,
and believer in reincarnation legend.
No matter getting cremated
(ha - of course after I die -)
good one, though... ha) crafting epitaph,
impossible mission to claim alibi,
while on leave from life,
and into cerulean heavenly sky
of course this guy would never lie
even in jest..., though all joking aside,
now tis golden opportunity well nigh
to compose obituary (mine of course),
one garden variety
(veggie burger eater) generic guy
who... doth not fear death, nor shy
about bidding permanent goodbye
to sordid vices that
DO NOT (no way) apply
to yours truly, he coon sitters himself...
well rather ho hum, (especially as singer -
for Curmudgeon Dummkopf Ensemble
(also known as the all star Schlemiel band),
no idea, I cannot explain why.
We sat in clusters, on couches, giggling at the antics of the wild ones, the PP’s.
Aka popular peers, who were dancing with self confidence that oozed into the walls.
The PP’s were gyrating to folksongs, flinging each other over furniture, laughing also.
Their laughs made our laughs sound muted and staid until we had a bit more liquor.
Suddenly we were up dancing, part of the PP’s. No, better than the PP’s because….
Our extrovert-ism had dissipated; we were now glib and extravagant, glitzy and glamorous.
My best girls were kicking their feet into the air with a natural loss of inhibition.
I was the highest kicker of all, felt like a Rockette at Music Hall, only prettier.
Some guy laughed and pointed to our group of dancing Barbies. I smiled big time.
Flashing him my best “who gives a cranium” look, for my cranium was now dancing.
I had turned fluid, my appendages were flipping and flopping. I was unleashed.
A wild fox in the middle of a barely lit cavern of wild foxes. There had never been such a party.
Best party I ever attended, someone said in my ear. It was my friend Sadie.
She was totally utterly unabashedly in the world of Alice; and this was the tea party.
The mad hatter was the next person to catch my eye. I threw back my head like a pony.
Dancing so hard, that my heels made the clopping sounds of a seventeen hand high stallion.
If I never attended another party as long as I lived, it would be okay now.
For I was fifteen, and this party of all parties, made me feel joyful and pretty.
These feelings were terrific. This party gave me enough enthusiasm to last for the rest of my life.
A Cheshire cat was grinning at me from the couch. I gave him a flippant happy wave.
Written 12-6-2020
Contest: Party Folk Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward