Long Unspeakably Poems
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In the uncertain blue sky of our love,
Why do you let the wind snatch the rays from your hair?
In its fickle palm, let it caress your cheeks,
With passion and desire, transforming your being into a shy dance.
Its ecstasy brings sensations that rise towards the sky,
A warm, sweet touch, like a fleeting dream.
On your body, its fingers draw the melody,
And in their eternal dance, glimmers of fine silk renew themselves.
In your arms, I am captured and embraced by shivers,
With each note, a perfection is unveiled.
But when your arms release, the fragrance dissipates,
And the sweetness of the moment is stolen into oblivion.
Why do you let the wind place its palm upon yours?
Secretly kissing your thoughts with passion?
Through thin, joyous skirts on an enchanted journey,
It gazes with gentle eyes into their mad world.
The storm cries, and sorrow dances in silver waves,
On dark alleys overwhelmed by bitterness.
In the soul, flickering, the droplets of the sky settle,
Magic and melancholy ignite in sacred verses.
The walls of our hearts are extensions of feeling,
On white pages, metaphors subtly reveal themselves.
Dancing gracefully, love overflows in every corner,
And a world of dreams takes shape in reality.
On our wings, the rain pours,
Listening to unspeakably sweet promises.
The voice suffocates in the storm and unpleasant times,
Sadness, you portray her young and beautiful.
Rising, I enter the hidden realm,
Where love denies the rules of our lives.
It pours infernally, a wild rain that destroys everything in its path,
But on our rooftops, love is reborn with every step.
May our fragile desires not be lost in nothingness,
But seep through the cracks of unfortunate time.
Let us hold them tightly in our palms,
And transform them into fulfilled realities by whispering them in secret.
are you with me, you drowsy pen?…this world is a
freakin’ distorted place. we are scribbling
like mites in pillow fights: dirty nails we have become ,
contagious as micro germs trying to make
sense of all the fake reality clinging to sleek fuzz,
pizzaz and all that jazz… ‘cmon, we are all fragile.
we’re all gonna die. so why be drugged by
penning a Lindsay Lohan kind of intoxication?
look at you, ink! swiveling like whims of tipsy lines.
far too many blots on your made-up tip…
geez, those pop culture digs scanning cosmo hours
with whisky gulps of idle entertainment, you know,
the scratch of feeble hands sucking materialistic
greed. do you think you’re rotten smart in hurried
thoughts of instant gratification? this is for real, for real.
and listen up: have you written about the will of
a spirit for true love of self, of flowers and others?
nope, not the kind you feel when intoxicated phrases
are riddled with booze shots… life goes on, every second,
every written word. there's something
unspeakably beautiful about it all...if only you and i
can share the flow of some kind of wonder without greed.
you’re wasted! pik-bam-boom, take my alcoholic
breaths to the top; see that there is no before or after.
just one rare, pure “ now” moment: damn it’s for real, for real…
our lives are a good freakin’ thing, isn’t it? hey, you’re dozing off !
©
by nette onclaud
for Elliott Bowe’s Drink Drunken Pen
Meeting by a charmfull seduction, the ignition as a spark to an engine.
Happiness flourished, blending to a family orientation.
Seeing my Cousin,Shaun in a position i never collectively envisaged.
The meeting of Eileen a pivital point, nevertheless needed taming by her.
Two daughters, single mum took to Shaun as a father, he not been in that parental position in his past, caused uncondtional love. I`m not going to sugar coat or lay pillows for the wrong doings, myself was involved amongst burning the candle at both ends.
However, you could say God sent down only something he had for the right path. Involved in an incident of which Shaun is incarcerated, also deeply regrets. A period of self explanitation, knitting the family bond like strength of a lion. It`s almost comical how good can come from bad, if you can see what i can.
Love is the utmost importance of all. Eileen, no medal could succomb you. The time is almost nigh for the gates to open, a debt of gratitude owed. Although a stunning blow the passing of your Father, unspeakably wrenching. I know that love lives amongst your family, that`ll do me.
“There is a charm about the forbidden
that makes it unspeakably desirable,”
Mark Twain
Hark!
does not the exclaim
of pain reign
the winds’ swallow?
skyward clouds of rain
are hollow.
untrammel’d, is it heard
promptly,
by the maimed;
airin’ of songman’s floggin’
for ne’er shalt again
the Queen’s ear be tamed
by lyrics of him, him who sing
courtship ballads.
nor thief nor baron
opt for the Queen’s favor,
in land of Holland,
forbid by King’s order.
erstwhile,
uncouth poet claims
her secret sorrow.
and she?
his verses so hearted
of longin’
My future happiness depended upon school,
They’re understanding of religious older parents,
Them constraining them with supervision,
So that I could have autonomy in my garments.
I mean, my parents let me wear what I liked,
But were unspeakably forceful poignantly,
Regarding who was going to dress and shower me:
Women, not men who could interact with me perfectly.
I wasn’t asking for all male carers,
Just one or two out of maybe five,
And I even offered to employ male nurses,
Rather than just anybody alive.
But my mum was disgusted at my suggestion,
Said it turned her stomach and made her ill,
Posited that I was not in my right mind,
Said that I made her queasy and gave her a chill.
The school’s social services seemed traditional,
Just like their toilet facilities, old and outdated;
The social worker had white, permed curly hair,
And so for parent disputes you could be slated.
So I never got the help I required and needed,
For my first care package at Glasgow University,
So I suffered from rejection, shortness and selfishness,
From my carers who were supposed to offer identity.
The wardens made it better for me every day,
Reprimanded them for disrespect and impoliteness,
But I never even imagined that voluntary carers,
Could suffice for my own future astuteness.
It upset my whole life, the schools neglect and indifference,
When I think that living success could have been sorted out,
My personal dignity and freedom could have been secured,
With a bit of determination and secular, atheistic liberal clout.
School is really just about your future,
It claims it by its very definition,
And the whole child should be taken and loved,
Not just his or her abilities with cognition.
I am so tired and so unspeakably old
I have been bearing about me for centuries, this grief, this disappointment
Your covetousness, vanity, ambitions
Blurred the glow of the sun, the moon,
Your selfishness, greed
Stop the divine flight of birds
You don`t see the fawn`s bashfulness and loveliness
You don`t feel the sweet scent of lime trees in June
Have you ever admired grass weaving, flowers
And asked yourself what they want to say to you
While you were watching their modesty and beauty
Have you ever thought that hills and valleys hold something of your own in them
And sometimes, when your eyes drink in a sky of stars,
Do you see the compassion of my friends,
Because I am loaded with factories, garbage,
And shrouded in smoke, while my sea is boiling and weeping
I can`t condone your wickedness
My dreams are shattered
But I am here, because of the poets
Thousands and thousands of poets are singing about me
They are saying::- Fear no more
Fear no more, we are here!-
And while they are repeating these comforting words,
They are giving all my sorrows to the universe,
Which cries for this huge burden,
Renews, makes a fresh start
Forgives and forgets
But I am still here, because of the poets
fear
As the old proverb prevails, " love comes unexpectedly"
hyperthetically speaking,exactly what happened to me
hurting decieving initially, then having to lay my cards
ending an eight year relationship,unspeakably so hard.
A feeling of selfishness,that i needed to explain
to make her see true love i found,obviously causing pain
i didn`t jump in to this,with my blinkers on
knowing that the pain inflicted, was definately wrong
But looking back in hindsight,i wouldn`t change a thing
the love,happiness and caring is what my Skinbob brings
i didn`t really get a chance, to put across the full tail
i had to explain the full issue over in an e mail.
I have no regrets at all,i did find my soulmate
we`ll be together forever,with memories to create
inseperable together,our siblings flown the nest
now i will do my utmost, to give my love the best.
Frank Herrera`s
Contest Name The CrossRoads of your Life
~ Before you throw in the towel ~
Your pen is full of ink
The paper on which you think
as fresh as a mountain stream
All that remains is to dream
of a subject, a theme, a raison d'etre
with built-in rhyme, rhythm and 'metra'
This shouldn't be so unspeakably hard
yet I suppose every minor and major-league bard
has moments when he's ready to throw in the towel
or just glare at the moon, and begin to howl...
That's it! Go out there and howl at the moon
Surely then you'll sing a different tune
'Coz when push comes to shove, it's all about mood
and though it sounds trite, a good attitude...
So, write your heart out, my friend
Let all your hair hang way down
Your poems will be the toast of the town
Here dwells a rose all may embrace,
a mystery well worth our time,
thornless rose, the essence of grace.
Here a spot, secured and sublime,
a Gardner unspeakably wise,
a mystery well worth our time.
Enter some blooms with odd disguise,
behold this garden’s rare design -
a Gardner unspeakably wise.
Planter engrafts them to His vine.
“Peace comes to them on quiet feet”
beholding garden’s rare design.
"The summer night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree
Peace comes to them on quiet feet"
Splendor’s commons where all agree
here dwells a rose all may embrace,
“With flowers on every tree,”
Thornless rose, the essence of grace.
June 1, 2021
Sponsor Joseph May
Contest Name Choose Your Form 2
I chose these lines from Sara Teasdale's poem, "But Not to Me"
changing her word, April, to summer.
"The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree
Peace comes to them on quiet feet"
One moment he was alive; the next he was dead
Gunned down midst a gang war, a bullet in his head
No motive whatsoever, nor rhyme nor reason at all
Only alienation and desperation casting their dark pall
Over an act so unspeakably wanton and cruel
It incinerated once and forever all Laws and Rules---
Society's fabric pierced, penetrated, shattered and rent
As mourners paid clumsy tributes, broke down and went
Home to a future that now felt so grim and so bleak
A Future of ambulances clanging and sirens' shrieks
A Future here Now on countless sidewalks of slums
Where murder's a hero, law and order a bum