Long Unclench Poems

Long Unclench Poems. Below are the most popular long Unclench by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unclench poems by poem length and keyword.


The Language of Dust

In the end, we will laugh.

We will draw back the curtain and see there was never distance to cross.  We were not away. We were not lost. We have always been home.
There is a table, with many already seated.
We will sit with them and join the meal.
Notice the chair holding you.
  Let the hands unclench.
 Notice light resting as dust,
  with no promise of arrival. It gathers quietly on  the table that was always there.
You do not have to earn the meal.
You do not have to understand the room.
You do not have to become anything more than what you already bring.
The language of dust says, there is no need to wait.
The meal has already been set.
The table was never withheld.
Only unseen
Pull the curtain away
You can sit at the table now.
So, Sit.
Sit now.
Nothing is wasted. Nothing is outside. 
Everything participates
Sit and laugh a little sooner
Sooner than expected.


Premium Member Poke Her

They agreed to go to their favorite hangout and cigars.

Once they were seated the waiter said that the restaurant had a deal on Italian wine.

In the beginning  it was easy, turn the cold shoulder for a few days.

And that was followed by fantastic sex.

He loved to poker her and she carried her part.

But the children came and it was much harder.

They had a full house and the meanness .

The thing that bothered her most was his control issues.

And he believed he ruled over the family like a king.

She always peeked at his hands when they fought.

Whenever he was angry he would clench and unclench his hands.

He knew the relationship was over and he should have folded.

She wanted to lay all her cards  on the table.

She had tried hard but when angry her face would get flushed.

They would rake in each others defects and the love died.

The high road was never straight and neither took.

He would raise past issues that were long dead and forget the progress..

He thought he was a stud  but the children were his weakness.

He wanted to holdem but she wanted their best.

All she wanted was for him to ante up in the marriage.

They were both bluffing and the love weakened.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Let It Go

Dinner was over an hour ago
Counters wiped clean, dishes are washed and dried
I hold my glass up to the light like a color slide,
   and see the world, warped, and blurred through the half glass of rosy wine

It makes everything seem clearer, somehow, and sobers my mind

From our long silhouettes, we sit on the lawn, and gaze to the mountains,
                    talking quietly, and sipping the pink charodonnay

Dark of the shade seems to drink up the light of day

Summer carols being sung by two mourning doves, 
                    are accompanied by a choir of crickets in the dewy grass
                    calling for reverence in honor of a dying sun
  
Soft voices are lifted in still air
The pink light seems to paralyze time.

We have found kindness here, 
                     and somehow the grueling trials of the year
                     seem smaller than they did yesterday

Now the day turns toward the darkness
                     and we have rid our taste of the dry and bitter dust
                     of everything that has been said and done

The north wind shakes the trees
                      and the last leaf that clung so fast and tight
                      releases its grip, and disappears into the dusk

We shall never need to see where it lands 
                      for we  are  forbidden strangers to the dark
Let us remain friends with the light

Let us unclench our old resistance

And after we have finished the last drop of wine
                      we will turn, and go inside
                      and thank our stars
                      for the pungent taste
                      that yet lingers
                      on our tongues

                      in case
                      we might
                      need
                      proof 
                      that some years will harvest a bitter taste....

                      and  
                      some
                      years
                      will
                      harvest
                      a
                      crop
                      blessed
                      by
                      the
                      sun
                      

                      



_____________________________________
For Deb's Contest: "Referential" 
reference: Chris Aechtner's Poem:  unclench fists
Form: Narrative

A Fistful of Diamonds Or a Handful of Colored Sand

Quote: If I tell you that I have a gem folded in the palm of my hand, the question 
of belief arises, but if I unclench my fist and show you the gem, it will not...
Buddha 

A Fistful Of Diamonds Or Colored Sand 

A fistful of diamonds or a  handful of colored sand 
God blew a breath and scattered me all over town
I don't own airborne wings I don't live in fairyland 
but when I see I only see reflections of His gown 

A clear cut glass edged and polished with shine 
another object of valor dulls before His stars 
Sotto voce, an invisible sign of His Divine
I can either accept the vision, or decline 

The mayhem of  the worlds chaos just a blow 
I'm soak in the reflection of His quiet calm 
Spikenard anoint and flowers bloom and glow 
He is my diamond in the raw my soothing balm;

A fistful of diamonds or a handful of colored sand 
He's the love I crave for, in the palm of my hand.

June 29, 2021
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Musebound

Once while sitting, idly, scribbling
thoughts, like drool, slow, slowly dribbling
eraser tips muse gnawing, nibbling
I spied a shadow on the floor
suddenly the muse came creeping
creeping through mind’s chamber door

The month was chilly, wet, and raw
goosebumps raised by wingless “caw”
pencils clutched in darkened maw
mocking me in retched slumber
muse dangling in her frozen claw
words fled the dying lead filled lumber.

“Muse” I cried, “be gone, be free”
“take you’re accursed touch from me”
“unclench my soul, let it be!”
retouch the page with warmth of pen
Heralds - in trumpeted decree
Rejoice – for Now is never Then.

So does the flow of lover’s hearts
celebrate such “fits and starts”
play both “joy and sadness” parts
from icy veins bring forth blood red
upon bare pages draped in art
‘tis passion’s heat the muse must bed.

©4/7/2018

//with apologies to the Bard//

submitted to – BRING ME TO LIFE – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Aiyah de Torres
Form: Verse


Masquerade

Bury your guns deep in the sands of time
Break your daggers in half and leave them behind
Unclench you fist and loose your stare of hate
Live in love today before tomorrow comes to late

Masquerade the truth to hide your inner lie
Masquerade your soul and surely you will die
Masquerade freedom and war will increase
Masquerade your cause and live in peace
Masquerade your fear or fall upon your lance
Masquerade the fight and give the world a chance

Disarm your bombs before they suddenly kill
Rip up your message of malice that you daily quill
Douse the fires that you start and burn
Cross the lines of war sign the treaty to overturn

Masquerade the truth to hide your inner lie
Masquerade your soul and surely you will die
Masquerade freedom and war will increase
Masquerade your cause and live in peace
Masquerade your fear or fall upon your lance
Masquerade the fight and give the world a chance

Sheath your sword before your heart turns cold
Break down your divided walls and simply grow old
Sink your ships and swim to your homes shore
Return to a clear young mind like we all had before

Masquerade the truth to hide your inner lie
Masquerade your soul and surely you will die
Masquerade freedom and war will increase
Masquerade your cause and live in peace
Masquerade your fear or fall upon your lance
Masquerade the fight and give the world a chance
Form: Rhyme

If I Believed In God

If my head wasn't filled with thoughts of revenge  
I'd be able to unclench my fist and open my hand, to take God's in mine
Leading me out of the darkness
Stepping foot in his everlasting garden

Planting seeds of forgiveness for my enemies
So that by rainfall, I will be nourished and bud with new perspective 
Washing away will be my pain and suffering
I'll be praying for my enemies 

By morning sunlight 
The ideas of vengeance, my sins
Will evaporate
I will ascend and be uplifted

Holding onto angers hand
Is like befriending the Devil 
To not be in contact with God or your soul
Only to be entranced in the thought of sinning 

Our lives are not guaranteed
We could all die at any second 
I will leave this earth in peace 
To join my fellow brethren 
Not plotting revenge, only praying that those who have harmed me
Will reconcile with us in heaven

Forgiveness for our enemies
Is a courageous and powerful act for a person to do
So don't waste life's precious seconds cursing others
When you could be using that time to pray for you

Pray your heart can let go of those wrong doings
Pray your debtors will someday see the light
Pray eventually they can plant seeds of their own
And take God's hand to be led out of the darkness 

When my life is taken, by then it won't be for granted 
I will be strong, my ego I will have overcome
Even if it's with my dying breath, I will have the love to rise above 
I'll be down on my knees
To God I will be
Praying for my enemies

Premium Member Tranquility

"It is neither wealth nor splendor; but tranquility and occupation which give you happiness". By Thomas Jefferson

A place where the zeal of my heart dwells
The appeal of a simple life, as lucid tale tells,
within a framework of some tranquility.
Slower flow and less agony ooze credibility.

A sulfurous fury emanated from the darkness.
Nostrils flared with a fiery, acrid harshness
Roaring voices mutilate the uttermost peace
It is impossible to tango with a noxious piece.

My chest heaves, and my lips unclench in a sigh.
Release suffocating lighting with the word "supply."
I'm blessed in my peace, and that lets me smile
embroidered with power and dominance style.

To admit a stroll when I could spare some time
In a casual way down an uphill road, sublime,
I absorb it all in whilst I walk through the forest
Each idyllic scene unfolds for an hour of rest.

Where I'd stay is beside an almond tree,
Its gentle breeze murmurs as it hugs me
where I'd quietly sit by the windowpane
holding a mug while glancing at the rain.

A place to catch the firefly's graceful elegance
Relax amid a velvety starry sky for your dance,
A little peace and quiet amid life's frenetic pace 
So my soul is punter attuned, full of helpful solace.

Written: April 13, 2023

1st place contest winner 

Writing Challenge - 'T' Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member KEEPING GOD

Line of inquiry: “Of the fact we are alive, we are sure. All else scriptures say, may or may not be. So presence vibrant, heart pure and demure.  As formless awareness we become free."

I wake to the fact of breath~  
a small certainty,  
steady as dawn warming the edge of a curtain.  
Everything else feels like wind-light pages  
turning in a book I cannot fully read.

I keep God by keeping still  
letting the mind unclench,  
letting the heart grow quiet enough  
to hear its own unbroken pulse.  
“Be still, and know…”  (Psalm 46:10)

Presence becomes a soft radiance~  
not seen, but felt the way warmth gathers  
around a candle’s invisible center~ 
formless, yet more real  
than anything I can hold.

Simplicity is the doorway  
where I set down  
the heavy furniture of belief~  
the arguments, the certainties,  
the need to name what is already here.

In this uncluttered awareness  
I sense a quiet truth:  
being alive is miracle enough,  
and the rest is a gentle invitation  
to trust what moves through me  
without shape,  
without demand,  
yet wholly holy.

No Other Way Out

Poetry Contest "Give me a Ghazal" Entry

                                   
                                           No Other Way Out




            So very still eyes cast inch by inch, still afraid of what's to come.
          Not knowing how you got into this pinch, still afraid of what's to come...

                    Pondering your reflective time used to unbetter life.
     A stone turns, a branch breaks, sudden flinch, still afraid of what's to come...

                If only you were a good boy, a very, very good, good boy.
   Your heart might breathe as your lungs unclench, still afraid of what's to come...

                  Saddened by your inability to stop the war in your head.
      Thinking thoughts of the right way to lynch, still afraid of what's to come...

           That's it, ending it, tie the knots like Michael's perfect braided noose.
       Around the neck, standing chair, drop, cinch, still afraid of what's to come?...
Form: Ghazal

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