Long Undamaged Poems
Long Undamaged Poems. Below are the most popular long Undamaged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Undamaged poems by poem length and keyword.
Matsuo Basho: English translations of Haiku about winter, cold, rain, rains, frost, frosts, snow, snowflakes, wind, children, childhood, hail, hail stones, winter life.
Mushroom-gathering,
rushing to beat
cold evening rains.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ceremonious
hailstones
assail my hinoki hat.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Caught hatless
in a winter shower?
So it goes.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How many frosts
have tested
this pine’s mettle?
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A winter drizzle
obscures
the field’s freshcut stubble.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The drinkers’ faces
paler than the snow:
a flash of lightning.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The polished mirror
clear as snowflake petals.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The relentless wind
sharpens rocks and stones,
topples cedars.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cold fear
desolate as a deserted
frost-crusted shack.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How marvelous,
the winter snow
will return as rain.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Children come running,
dodging jewels:
hailstones.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
At least the world has left,
unblemished and unbegrimed,
a single wooden bowl.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The bowl in question had been left by Rotsu in Osaka, and was returned undamaged seven years later. Rotsu was a Basho disciple.
The mud snail’s closed lid:
winter confinement.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Inside my hut,
watching my own breath:
winter confinement.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
So weary of Kyoto,
of the withering wind
and winter life.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I will soon be included
among the fortunate ones:
beyond winter.
—Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Flawless Aster under Auspicious Cloud.
I find myself under an Auspicious cloud.
My sweet dreams overcome the flaws in disaster.
Smoothing away all my flaw's in my fear.
I slept under the star shape like an Aster.
Vanishing away the ugliness of my nightmares.
I awaken to a peaceful morning of tranquility.
In a fragrance path leading me to my own Dynasty.
I saw the solution that disabled the flaws of our unity.
Using myself perception of my abilities.
I am overwhelmed by the flawless gloom.
Accepting the careless ways of my responsibilities.
Surrounded by the human bloom.
I am cheerfully flowing out a perfectiveness of a glow.
My flaws have been cleansed and purified.
I joined the flowers of the radiant promising future.
To accomplished life in an auspicious way.
A flawless look into the obvious day.
A beautiful elegance in our harmonious way.
Unmarked in every soul with a purple ray.
Faultless, blameless, no need to beg and pray.
Unhurt like the beauty we find in the sky.
You hold me close with the whole feeling of love.
I am the Auspice in your eye.
Undamaged me with the atmosphere of your Aster wondrous sky.
Unharmed you stand in front of me.
I'm wild like an Aster flower in your hands so perfectly.
Smiles to the world full of flawlessness.
Like a diamond found in nature untouched and unbroken.
Spoken words clearly come out bless.
A star, two flowers, a cloud, an imaginable token.
Symbolizing the love with no weakness.
Impacted on kindness and daintiness.
Waking up to the the worlds of reality.
I turn around like the moon.
On my taste buds I flavored the blossom smell.
The brightness of a flawless day.
I brush the dust of my shoulders.
I have no anger to castaway.
I've earned no fault when it comes to reason.
Now it's time to comprehend to live in the new.
Forbid my self to dwell on the old.
Look into the beauty that our future world holds.
Close the vision that we only see things for its flaws.
Clear your mind to inner self of mortality.
Longing to see the Aster in the dark sky.
I own the impurity of my air to the Auspicious cloud.
To absolute revive the love of the things that are alive.
By: P.D.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“she’s such a beautiful little girl…”
What was it about me that gave him attraction?
Only a sick old man could find sexual satisfaction-
Six years old was I when my innocence was stolen,
my essence once whole, then left in sheer fractions.
He was the prodigal man, the boy made of golden.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“what happened to my sweet granddaughter?”
From where did he learn such pleasurable abuse?
He was a monster at best, dense and obtuse-
I’ll never forget the first time he pinned me down,
I was so little and weak as I tried to refuse,
in solitude I wept, forever wearing a frown.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“she used to be such a good little girl…”
I turned nine and still held onto this harm in silence,
too young to realize the effects of his violence-
I was wounded on the inside and outside had scars,
turning into a sassy girl full of disrespect and defiance.
He would finish with me then go smoke his cigar.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“oh you rude girl, my son would never do that!”
She never listened to me as I carried this cross,
and losing my grandma became my greatest loss-
She turned her back on me, I never saw her again,
she used to love me, was my absolute best friend.
His harm broke us, and our relationship paid the cost.
I can hear my grandma say on her deathbed,
“sweet girl, I’m so sorry…for I too was a victim”
Why would she avoid my pain from his pleasure?
I guess she was threatened by him beyond measure-
Oh, I wish I could rip off his hands and throw them away,
my life should’ve been a gift, an undamaged treasure.
Now I live with the guilt and shame every single day.
I can hear the Lord say,
“my sweet child, forgiveness is the key,
rest assured in darkness hold onto me-
When your fear takes a turn for the worse,
I pray only My light you shall see,
always hold My hand and put Me first.
Let's talk about it contest
August 1, 2017
I SEE HER. . . .
Her beauty unbound by chains of lust, or self pitty. Her skin irreproachable, perfect, sound, unblemished, unbroken, undamaged, unimpaired. Her eyes carry the depth of the green sea, and when they look into yours they show you the man you could be, the man that you want to be .Just so you can be that man for her. She carry’s herself with an essence of independence, and a legacy long sustained by strong beautiful women. Her lips in a peculiar shape like that of a heart. . .wait it’s my heart i see bestowed in the shape of her lips. I realize my ambition to define the fine fabrics in which her brain is weaved. Her simple glare turns me into the submissive man vie only dreamed of becoming, for this means that I can complete the act of giving her what can be given back my, undivided, complete diligent love. As time goes by. . . She and I have been together for some time and I realize her beautify is unaffected by time her eyes stay bright, and luminous enough to put the sun to shame. Her skin never grown old for I always see her as the Angel she is..Back to reality. . . “Bro! “ i look up and see an old friend of mine wait, no a current friend of mine,, my body’s numb to the touch my legs erratically tremble below me I look around and see my youth, I look. My boy looking me in the eye like I was crazy. “You good, dawg?”. . . “was it all a dream?. . . i look up lost in a world without love nor compassion, and I . . . see her? My boy was asking me what’s wrong but I dashed forward to see her . . . I meet eyes with the angelic green eyes of the women I’ve been in love with my whole life and as our eyes meet I come to reality. The women I have fell in love with and spent with my whole life. . . I’ve never seen before tonight.
Love at first sight,
William mosby 3rd
Form:
MORE THAN A SOFT TOY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raggedy Ann with her patchwork heart,
more than soft cotton, calico, embroidery, and yarn,
a doll created with Mother's love,
stitched together with gentle hands.
Her gray button eyes understood my childhood world,
her red yarn hair meticulously combed,
her smile eternally stoic,
her face bore the promise of a forever friend.
She walked with me to school,
first day of school jitters, she sat, a steadfast sentinel,
on the corner of my desk,
absorbing my fear, radiating calm.
Hospital smells, a white, sterile fear~
Raggedy's soft body, a warmth against my chest,
before the cold steel, after the raw ache,
her doe-like, button eyes, unwavering.
We shared tiny cups of cocoa ‘neath the pecan tree,
her embroidered face never betraying
the weight of my childhood dreams,
my childhood fears.
My first editor, she listened tirelessly
to the endless stories I told her~
the one’s created from my fertile imagination,
without judgment, without end.
Now, she sits in Mother’s curio cabinet,
still a steadfast, quiet comfort,
her threads and stitches connecting me
to the fertile memory-filled fields of yesterday.
Her button eyes, dark pools reflecting
sepia-toned summers,
reliving ghosts of laughter,
rides on unicorns, and make-believe.
Her worn calico dress, faded and undamaged,
is stained with childhood tears,
a fabric chronicle of scraped knees,
childhood regrets, and silent fears.
She inspires me now,
grounding me in innocence,
showing that imagination
endures into adulthood.
Raggedy Ann, more than a soft toy~
she is the echo of my Mother's love,
a tangible piece of home,
carried in my arms, worn soft with time.
What if I told you I love you?
There would be no lie in this
Lies would not slip from my lips that want to be pressed so badly against yours
Wrapped within your arms who will hold me on the coldest nights, mine will do the same
At that point everything would disappear
well , everything other then you
Because at that point you are the only thing that matters
What if I told you that I can’t undo this feeling?
Because you and your word are already infused within my bloodstream
And wrapped in my mind
Unable to be entwined from my life
Because the imprint you have left on my skin
May be there for a lifetime
What if I told you that I have been dealing with this for years?
But I threw it out the window because I was always told loving another girl was wrong
But in reality gender doesn’t matter, love does…
I don’t care if people were to give me weird looks
Showing that they know that I love a woman
I wouldn’t care
Because I love her
What if I told you that you are beautiful?
Just like the sky full of stars on a clear night.
Or like an ocean slowly moving onto shore
Or when the auburn and orange leaves fall from the trees at the peak of fall
You know that feeling you get when you see that amazing display?
That feeling of beautiful awe?
I feel that all over my broken body when I’m with you
Because you make me feel as if I’m whole and undamaged
Like i’ve never been hurt before
Hold me as tight as you can
While i whisper words of love into your ear
And block out the words of society
Because they will say cruel words
Because we are both women
But we are more powerful than they will ever be
Because we found love
~11-5-17~
Who is in the room?
Who owns the room?
When the GreenWoke Tribe
evaluate their strategic platform
for conquering RedUnWoke DiaTribes
what politically scientific purpose
and/or psychotherapeutic intent
for healthy inclusive democracy
[and not merely more wealthy
StraightWhiteMale corporate kleptocracy]
may wake up and win/win thrive?
Not so stuck on playing win/lose
monopoly games
preferred by monotheistic
anthrosupremacists,
privileged competitions
for recreating monocultural bullies
and sacrilegious
sanctimonious
green or red politically correct
dogmatic unwoke bosses
Judiciously proclaiming discrete
separate but equally undamaged
deceit
In resonant baritones
repeat unenlightened bass base
repeat disempowering soprano space
repeat replete
unwoken
still broken
repeat...
Who is behind the broom?
When GreenWoke evaluators
reconsider healthy
co-passionately wealthy
sweeping democratic invoked potential
Integrity to grow more
bilaterally healthy
bipartisan support
for woke up wealthy.
Woke
could send out evaluation forms
to every registered UnWoke
and this might explore half our hoped for story
of how empowerment
and enlightenment have grown/groaned
through last year's sentient
yet often somnolent
competitions in stuck down government.
But, growing trust
more than mistrust,
woke truth
more than unwoke half-truths
together show and tell,
as all UnWoke know too well,
bipartisan passions
co-invest tax-payers
and health therapeutic players
preferring to synergetically swell
rather than not tell
quietly fell apart
stuck in competitive squabbling
hell.
It's been a while I handled my humble muse like this.
Here is a duet between Mfoniso Ubaha and Wems Henry Temmy
MU
I am fine.
You smile with head up, saying; good.
I chuckled, putting up a dirty smile
And you call it beautiful.
I said: okay, you believed it
Without knowing how not okay I am.
WHT
You are mine.
I travel miles with eyes closed, murmuring; food.
I winks, seeing your falling smile...
How fast it becomes artful.
Oh yeah, hmm,the fall hits!
And drive me lonely till you closed your arm.
MU
I am sick but hides it.
I prefer my depression to you--
It is more real than you are.
I put you out to avoid your s.
I lied to you, you loved it, then you don't know
I pretended for life, to live the life I live.
I am a lier and you don't know.
WHT
I longed for thy lips glee that fits.
As thy fainting pressure reads true.
I may be seen to be afar...
But my heart's hole measures feelings omitted
For all the packages you filed won't go,
Even when it dives;
To relieve your painted feelings, it glows...
MU
I got a thick skin and an elastic heart.
Your blunt barb can't sting me in.
Your Poisons didn't reach my vessels...
That my system was undisturbed.
There I live undamaged.
I survived stresses and strain ...
I am unbreakable.
WHT
I embraced the tears tearing its limit apart;
While the fear blocked the bin,
That for peace, you grow unnoticed nestles
Where the prolonged brace is well managed
And the strives thrive though in pain.
Yet, the cross for both becomes bearable.
© ® Mfoniso Ubaha and Wems Henry Temmy
What do you do
When you can feel the walls
Closing in on you
Walls
That are there to protect you
From the harshness of the world outside
Harshness of the world outside
Can they build those for your mind
Walls
That are there to protect you
From the harshness of the world Inside
Harshness of the world Inside
They look so pretty
These walls
Painted in happy colours
Happy colours
Plucked from the rainbow
By a glittering fairy
Collected in a huge bucket of gold
Happy colours
Plucked from the rainbow
And mixed with sunshine
Then why
Why is it so dark
Inside these walls
Walls painted with
Colours plucked from the rainbow
And mixed with sunshine
Why do these walls
Painted in happy colours
Not lend their happy to me
For just one night perhaps
Maybe if they do
Then I
Will not feel like the walls are closing in
Maybe if they do
Then i
Will not fear the dark
For one night
Maybe if they do
Then I
Will drop my regrets
Like a cloud sheds rain
And becomes lighter
I will shed the sorrow
The regrets
The guilt
The anger
All those tears unshed
All those feelings unconfessed
And become lighter
Maybe then
I'll rest
Now that I've shed
The despair
That used to creep into my sleep
And colour my dreams
That peculiar colour
Of gloom and doom and all things bad
Maybe now I'll sleep peacefully
Finally rest
And hope to wake up
A new person
Not flawless
No
That's not what I ask to be
Just undamaged
Just whole.
Form:
Awaking to exceptional day, I noticed obviously gross, uncut grass,
all glaringly exhibiting growth in degrees ordinarily considered unusual.
My ambition to erase the ill look of my ugly duckling animated me.
Every bold invader was ostracized most unmercifully.
Persistently advancing, still energized, while ignoring time or thirst, unknowingly.
Pleased as grasses etherized helplessly, I rejoiced over their utter ruin.
Admiring my efforts gleefully, I stopped only for upkeep.
Surprised at the emergence right in time of prized unusual plants and
some edibles, deliberately I carried on with ultimate results.
As pride exalted me, I reckoned on finishing undamaged.
Perhaps a more experienced person in mowing occupation would understand,
the almost hypnotic effect that is brought on by unreasonable dedication.
As beauty emerged with incisive deftness, orderly rows ultimately triumphed.
As mower ensnared grass, I boldly opted to unload.
Tiredness assailed me even though I knew once more unbounded pride, acknowledging that every blade is mowed on my utopia. The action has energized some inactive muscles, obviously long unused. So as result expecting that I will observe some unpleasantness for attempting more exercise than I might often have utilized.
Now a peace envelops me. I know of nothing unpleasant.