Long Unexposed Poems
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"The human heart has hidden treasures, in secret kept, in silence sealed. The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, whose charm were broken if revealed." Charlotte Bronte
Sometimes I've been forced to wear a mask
to escape from people who continue to ask,
"I know you're keeping secrets. I can tell."
Relentlessly, they harp, push and compel.
With accusing fingers pointed, they attack
but I turn and walk away, never looking back
Though none of their business, they're dying
to learn the secrets I know, and keep denying.
I'll never give away confidences I've been told.
It's a burden that I bear, a responsibility I hold.
Gossips try to discover what I keep concealed,
but disclosures made to me will not be revealed.
Protecting a secret is a promise that once made
must be guarded or risk a friend being betrayed.
I have my own secrets that shouldn’t be disclosed.
It's better they stay buried and never be exposed.
Secrets live in the shadowed corners of my mind,
in dark depths they swim, where no one can find.
What's been entrusted to me, I've vowed to keep.
I'm a prisoner of silence, causing no one to weep.
November 2, 2021
"S" Contest
Hosted by Constance La France
Every time I read Pessoa I think
I'm better than he is
Salutations to Fernando Pessoa-Alan Ginsberg
Me, the monocled one, with my foppish belted waistcoat,
I'm not unworthy of you, Walt,
I'm not unworthy of you, my saluting you proves it . . .
Salute to Walt Whitman- Fernando Pessoa
Here from a place in my heart, I salute you,
Female as I am, and unknown,
Should I be praising Emily, Plath or Achmatova?
But you started it Pessoa! with your Alvaro comparing himself
to Whitman, not content to admit to a greatness of your own
and now I find dear Mr. Ginsberg confessing to his greatness in
epic manner, name dropping from Socrates to Michelangelo
admitting faults in the same breath-tracking his enlightenment
and if it was written tongue in cheek, I missed it.
How I admire the great poets that wade into the mainstream
appearing where the greatest wrongs appear, risking even
death for their beliefs, celebrated by those who embrace their
point of view, but what of the unknown poets in the world;
so many whose work is equally astounding, yet unexposed.
Musings on every subject known to man, set down in metaphor
and rhyme makes me wonder what brings immortal recognition
Is it from making a devoted study or from mixing in the right circles?
The hallowed halls of academia or is it some -one's tiny jounal
of handwritten poems waiting for discovery, the enlightenment
of the next century?
Poets, don't often, answer to their fame - writing what's inside of them
for those to come.
Thursday, 06 September, 2001
I wrote this poem one morning (Thursday, 06 September, 2001)after I had read a poem by Alan Ginsberg in the 1995 edition of The Best American Poetry.
I had never seen the poem he referred to "Salute to Whitman"by Fernando Pessoa
and today when I found it on the web Friday, March 01, 2002, I was suprised to see how similar our opening lines were.
Here are current links to the poems mentioned
https://issuu.com/hbarbas/docs/1997_salutations_to_pessoa_ginsberg_h_barbas
https://modpo2015.wordpress.com/poems-of-note/fernando-pessoa-alvaro-de-campos-salute-to-walt-whitman/
Curtis was never one to stay in one place for very long
Oh my God they said when they looked at his passport
Multiple entries border crossings migration and search of
Inner Self and ironically a fix point in his travelling mind
No go zone was merely an encouragement to defy advice
Grand locations unexposed jewels magical treasure islands
Baking in the sun basking in downpour and floating on joy
Another journey one more rite of passage before settling
Coming home to hidden places he had never been before
Kaleidoscopes Katzenjammer Kettledrums Knowledge
Hitherto homeless he gallivanted to more distant shore-lines
On full steam of restlessness experiences and adventures
Minded his voyage but remained a foreigner nevertheless
Eventually he ran out of escape routes and returned home
21st February 2021
Have you wandered off the beaten path and blamed someone other than YOURSELF? Or could it be that you never walked the path of others, because you were alone and LEFT. Did someone hurt you when you ran from the room in a rush, never telling others how you FELT? Perhaps it’s time you take responsibility and say what’s on your mind, rather than remain STEALTH.
We were made to be inquisitive and to question, but you never knew, because you never asked. You cry and weep inside while something holds you BACK, and you surrender, keeping on the mask. Most of us understand being afraid, but it’s not good to remain in the closet, not accepting the TASK.
Open your eyes, your ears, and you might just see and hear someone new, and discover it’s really you. Even you have yet to know the real you, because like a snapshot UNEXPOSED, you are still ENCLOSED in the shadow of the negatives. You are like a birthday or Christmas present, so beautifully wrapped. Don’t hide or be afraid of yourself or your shades of GREY, because you reveal your true colors when you step out into the light of DAY.
You have heard it said of you, “He’s/She's quiet and cool, so cute and plays by the RULES”. But did you hear when they said, “There is a dire need for social TOOLS”?
Perhaps you have allowed others to define the person they think you are.
This, you must forbid to be so, and slowly open your closet door.
Come on out my friend, show yourself, and have your SAY.
Let’s fly a kite where it’s windy at the beach or by the BAY.
Come on and unwrap yourself, because you have been put here for a purpose.
Unwrap yourself, because no one else can do what you were designed to do.
You have been gifted and touched by God’s hands of GRACE.
Step out into the world and leave your unique TRACE.
You need not rush, but proceed at your own PACE.
You are more than a pleasing face in a quiet PLACE.
Without you, we will digress as a human RACE.
So unwrap yourself, because you are truly loved
cj04102015
T’would seem the edge of beauty unexposed
Relies upon the images it stirs
More so than that, forever’s loving rose
Though faded knows she was the one he chose
For memory, though dark, still holds its flame
Dim light to weave its way through grayish stones
Cold winds that whisper long forgotten names
As distant bells lament their silenced tones
Thus, does she speak in dandelion tongue
Her mocking beauty rivaling the sun
For love it seems remains forever young
Its whispers of forever - ever sung
For beauty is the guise of lust’s demise
Weeping beneath its shadowy grey skies
I will never get my way with trouble that I borrow.
Looking for yesterday waiting for tomorrow.
Though I've heard it many times the answer still evades me
Live for today, they always say, yet I still can't seem to see.
Come Lord Jesus, take my hand.
Keep me from sinking in this sand.
Pull me up into the light
I need your guidance to help me fight.
Pretty pictures never taken in the gallery.
Unexposed and forsaken is his history.
The promise of hope, last knot on the rope.
A vision that he cannot see to help him cope.
Forever shines deep in the soul of those who sought.
Redemption and reason to explain what Jesus blood bought.
If you look, I think you'll see there's just no other way.
To remove the clouds that cover up the light in a new day.
ART, MY PLATFORM
I art, therefore, I am
Let your life be your Art
Something you paint with your heart
Taking care to make every part, a symphony of colors
The way your feet lovingly graze the earth
Like paint stroking on the canvas
Sketching the soil, each step with prudence
You were born with this Craft, this inner beauty
You don’t need to collect praise
For that Art fills up from inside
Let your life be your Art
Moving and being moved
The totality of mindful moments
Continue to paint your actions unexposed
For it to be, a masterpiece to share and behold.
Can I believe that these feelings can turn into a beautiful thing?
That after the storm, I can see the rainbow glowing again?
Just melt into grace
Cry, scream and laugh
This is where you begin, again
You’re strong enough to let love in, so don’t let it go
Running gently, Screams of laughter
Dancing stars, my golden heart
My sands of time will bring about inspiration
Using all that God has gifted me with
To recreate the promised
I hope my life is never desolate
That it lacks art
That would be the only poverty
I would find intolerable
La vie est une oeuvre d’Art
Un reflet de toi, et un voyage que tu dois suivre
The Yew is said to reach hundreds of long years and
trauma reaches the same festering circles buried
deep into abused souls transmitted over generations
All parts are toxic and unfit for human consumption
and yet deceptively beautiful with flat green leaves
strong twisted wood and luring berries for misadventure
‘Look at me I feed the birds and thus give to charity
children come shelter under my wings and eat sweet
candy from Sugar Daddy and then pray for my prey’
Yet poison spreads like cancer and for every Savile there
are so many unexposed savages and I must be excused
for wanting to feed them berries from their very own tree
Some escape justice during their life span die after taking
the strong resilient sap from innocent lives and fell foul
knighted by the sword which should have severed their neck
For crying out ‘Yew Tree Operation’ loud warning and clear
posthumous shaming will never bring back victim’s
childhood but please remove that knighthood and follow the trail
Yew trees in mythology and nature are not aware where to
they throw their seeds they thrive next to one another and
cover their stems pretend they are harmless so little we know
But paedophilic monsters clearly know what poisonous effects they foist
onto children do not give a toss about physical and psychological
sexual perverted abuse so I propose to cut their manhood right at the trunk
Secrecy, as in, 'don't allow this LOVE to be shown, to be known'?
Is Secret Love like lighted candles hidden away in closets?
'Secret Love' is a complicated theme, is it not?
Secrecy, as in an unexposed, undeveloped photograph?
Really, I don't know where to go with this; honestly, I don't.
So, off I go with a mixture of muse and a measure of truth.
By definition, LOVE is an action word, yielding an 'effect'.
With regards to 'secret love', can such love be genuine?
Can real love be hidden, covered up, or operated by stealth?
Is it real Love or something else with which I have been smitten?
If LOVE is secret, is it hidden because it is forbidden?
Is secret LOVE tantamount to being adulterated?
Or could it be that such LOVE has been contaminated?
My knowledge of the Greek language is nearly non-existent.
But What Greek I have learned centers around the word LOVE.
There are at least three words for the word LOVE.
Eros or erotic (Romantic love); Phileo (Brotherly love);
and Agape (Divine or God love). Love is ever active like
electricity in search of a conduit. LOVE is an ever-flowing
entity like ocean waves continually rushing to the shore.
Love originates in God, ever seeking a vessel through which
to flow. LOVE is a giver and not a taker. God's first order of
business in redemption was one of giving. "For God so LOVED
the world that He gave His only begotten son..." John 3:16.
The holly berries reveal
a bronzing tint of orange
on their journey to becoming
deep, dark, blood reds.
Soon the three bonded trees
will glow in vibrant color
held bold and standing out
against the snow and waxy green.
This is the robins and the blue jays
favorite winter treat
stolen and devoured
in one cold, harsh winter day.
Off in the distance,
some trees are fully naked
while others unexposed
wait to undress.
Some have color barely faded
held on the palette of distinction
still full with greens, yellows,
crimson reds and orange.
Others stretch and open up
the blue ocean of the sky
and but for one or two cloudy wisps,
brilliant beneath the sun.
Now and then
there comes the rush and slurried breeze
moving through defoliating leaves
then holding still and quiet
playing a game of peek a boo
throughout the days of mixing
warm, hot, cold, gentle, and rough
Indian Summer Autumn.