Long Unvarnished truth Poems
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When mum would talk to other folks about her family,
She’d always speak particularly proudly about me …
Of how I’d gone to grammar school, my bookish ‘steel-trap’ mind.
To hear her, you would think I was a boon to all mankind!
It should have made me happy to have such a super Mum …
So why did I feel sheepish, and fat, and gross, and DUMB?
Why could I never say to any person how I felt,
Or tell them how I wished the ground beneath me would just melt?
Could it have been because I sensed that, under Mother’s pride,
The plain unvarnished truth was, she was never satisfied?
Did she feel that I’d let her down by being fat and clumsy?
Or was it that I loved my Dad more than I loved my Mumsie?
For, truth to tell, that was a fact. For all she wished it other,
I loved my father in a way I never could love Mother.
I do know she was jealous of the love between us two …
She let it slip in ‘chance’ remarks such as “Who’d look at you?”
“Your skirt’s too short!” “You’re much too fat!” and far unkinder slurs.
She saw me as a rival for his love, that should be hers.
She never learned the secret. No, she never found the key –
That he loved me just as I was, not “How I ought to be … “
The tragic thing was, we loved her in just that same way too.
We tried to show it, but poor Mum could not believe it true.
So, after all, it wasn’t me who wasn’t good enough –
No-one could satisfy her, not a soul could measure up.
For Mum had never loved herself: she’d never felt worthwhile.
That was the truth behind the boasts: the tears behind the smile.
She couldn’t let herself be loved. She never could perceive
True love can never be possessed, but it must be received.
I feel so sad to think of how she wasted her whole life
Pursuing love, in such a way all she could cause was strife.
By fighting hard to keep us, she was driving us away.
If only she could let us go, perhaps we would have stayed …
But now I am determined not to make the same mistake.
From now on, I shall give love, and accept love, but NOT TAKE!
~ Bygone beauty - the spark still pulsates ~
- quote by poet
Antique and retro
junk or culture?
I bought it
way too expensive at auction
Aging and rusty
Useless
you're probably thinking
A rustic lantern
from the time when kerosene lamps
was the best one had
Timeless design with
soul, charm and uniqueness
Brush and rub
Of sentimental virtues
the need for mercy,
nursing and care
in the hands of love
The beauty is temporarily hidden
will soon regain its former glory
The history of the lamp,
- the unvarnished truth
Brush and rub
03.04.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- 'R' Words - Poetry Contest -
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1st place in the contest
Pages of your book
By Michelle Morris
09/09/2022
The snowflakes come down
Like a flurry of white hope
Upon the grave that we stand around
The ground silent like our souls
The pastor gives a beautiful service
Words I cannot hear
Not comprehending the message
But knowing it is felt within
I stand like a statue
Cold and silent and alone
Wondering if this is the moment
When I give up my human knowing
I throw soil onto your grave
Before the casket is lowered into the ground
And there stands an angel statue
Weeping for the tears I am unable to find
For if I let them fall freely
What emotions do I have left?
I hold on to the pain
As a way to hold on to you indefinitely
Not trusting my memories
To show the unvarnished truth
Putting our love on a pedestal
A shrine to better moments
Life carries on and on and on
It goes on despite our protestations
The pages of your book
Now halted for the ages
And I wonder what my time holds
Without you here in my life
Will my heart heal again
Or will I be forever frozen in this nightmare?
I walk away from your gravesite
The sight etched in my mind for good
The last words you said to me
A reminder that we talked
Of life and love and death
Of the future and hopes not realised
Now that your book is finished
I'll have to write chapters for you too
The snow blankets the ground
And I wish it could blanket me
The love and light that left your eyes
Like your soul left your human entity
One day I'll see you again
When Heaven brings me home
But until we are together there
I'll remember you in my soul
© Michelle Morris, 2022
Black History Month began as "***** History Week"
Our holiday was adopted at a time when the country was bleak
Created in 1926 by noted African American Historian, Carter G. Woodson
Today, we celebrate the "Congressional Gold Medal" of Eugene Goodman
It became a month-long celebration in February 1976
To celebrate the birthdays of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln
Black History Month honors the contributions of African Americans
The historical contributions of Barack Obama and Kamala Harris
They deserve recognition because of their contributory impact on the nation
Another Black History Month contribution by Frank Wills from Watergate
The Security Guard was forever ostracized, because he didn't hesitate
It's time to speak the unvarnished truth,
and to do so as often and loudly as we can
I recall the fear and prejudice that were expressed by many
How do we confront this virus of injustice?
We must speak truth to power.
The burden of confronting injustice and racism
Must not be viewed through rose colored negativism
Hold accountable those who prey on black people's fears
And biases with lies, conspiracies, and tears
We must speak out forcefully and act with conviction
We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality
Tied in a single garment of destiny
Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere
Author: Floyd Neal
Date: February 13, 2021
Inspiration: Black History Month
Lay my heart bare, let it bleed and spill,
Upon these pages, where silence once filled.
With every tear, my story is written,
In ink and in sorrow, my truth will be told.
I rip my heart wide, like a book that's well-worn,
Each scar is a reminder of battles I've borne.
Let the words dance freely, unchained and uncouth,
For you to witness my unvarnished truth.
The whispers of love and the echoes of pain,
Ink stains my fingers, like a lovers forgo.
Each line a confession, each stanza a sigh,
In the empire of my heart, there’s nowhere to hide.
As shadows retreat in the light of your gaze,
I offer my essence, my spirit ablaze.
This canvas of paper, it cradles my fears,
A testament laced through laughter and tears.
So, take this raw offering, let it wash over you,
A design woven with threads just for me and you.
In the stillness of night, when the world seems asleep,
I'll lay my heart bare, and together, we’ll weep.
For in this communion, where silence breaks free,
You’ll find all my hopes, my regrets, and my glee.
Let our souls intertwine, like the ink on this page,
In the story of us, where love is both tempest and wise.
So here, in this moment, as the moonlight spills,
My heart finds its echo in the space that it fills.
Together, we’ll capture what the night has to give,
In the rawness of truth, we will truly live.
Jan 1, 2024
Most police officers
are genuinely good, decent people.
I know that. Deep down, we all know that.
Unfortunately, though, the bad apples
among them have tainted
their reputation beyond repair.
It's no secret these "bad apples, "
mostly Caucasian and racist
---might as well call a spade a spade!---
have it out for people that look just like me.
Black men are dying more frequently
than ever at the hands of police.
It's a fact. It's the unvarnished truth!
As a black man in America,
I've always been skittish about cops,
but now I'm much more scared than
I've ever been before. Who could blame
any black man for distrusting the police?
Here we go again! Here we are again,
they've taken yet another Black life.
There's more to come, folks! Why just men?
No person of color is ever pulled over nowadays
without thinking morbid thoughts like...
"Could this be the end?"
"What do I do with my hands?"
"Is he looking for an excuse to kill me?"
Yeah, I'm even more skittish about cops now,
so is the next Black guy on the street
who feels like he, too, is an imminent roadkill
Yes, world, that's how it truly feels
to be a black male in America!
Date written: 06/02/2020
On Thinking Too Much
You think too much, she said, and I think
She might be right; she, whom once I fell in love
With and think of still.
Thought on thought, I explore every option, each an
Imagined path through life; intricately building fairy castles
And fantastic worlds of love.
I think too much, yet say very little, fantasy worlds
Locked inside my head; speaking is revealing, exposing
Self to risk of rejection.
And yet I wonder, in moments of introspection, what would
I lose to speak my thoughts; knowing, as with she, I
Might hear the unvarnished truth.
But then again, as with she, I might have a friend
For life, whose eyes look out at me
With amused and understanding affection.
I think too much, and remember a troubled childhood
And the search for love and recognition; to build myself
Defence against a cold world.
And here I am again, with you, who has not
Yet laid down the strict boundaries as did she;
And I think too much still.
Sometimes unvarnished truth is hard to take.
It’s often just as difficult to tell.
Truth may cause tears to fall and hearts to break.
Withholding truth when there is much at stake
is wrong. How could such pretense turn out well?
Sometimes unvarnished truth is hard to take.
Those in the know will step up for the sake
of friends deceived, whom flattery befell.
Truth may cause tears to fall and hearts to break.
Delusions vanish, leaving in their wake
reality, with which they now must dwell.
Sometimes unvarnished truth is hard to take.
Disaster may be foiled by those who make
a move and help a trapped friend break the spell.
Sometimes unvarnished truth is hard to take.
Though wiser now, enlightened ones will ache.
Time’s passage will the brunt of anguish quell.
Sometimes unvarnished truth is hard to take.
Truth may cause tears to fall and hearts to break.
October 26, 2022
Placed first in Mystic Rose Rose's Premiere Contest Tell It Like It Is
Ha! Please take down
The eyesore
You've mounted atop your head.
You wonder why
It feels much too heavy.
Here's the unvarnished truth.
Because, well, because
One cannot be
A fool
And a king
Simultaneously
Your counterfeit diadems
Hold no weight, or value.
They wouldn't shine beneath
A plethora of suns.
Spare yourself
The world's ridicule.
To rule an empire
Unchallenged,
To someday sit
On a throne, wearing
The real McCoy
To travel so much as
Halfway
The long glory road
To acquire the royal appellation
And prestige you covet,
For starters, deep-six
Your distended ego
And delusions of grandeur
Date written: 04/24/2022
He keeps trying his barrage
of raging vitriol, but it's a blunt knife
on his target's alligator skin
A predictable high school bully
with the same ol' lines of attack.
His target always sees them coming...
and the invectives inflict no pain!
The bully sharpens the blade
with each try, then slashes and stabs
in rapid succession...
but the knife never breaks his victim's skin,
and the funny thing about it is...
the bully seems to be the one bleeding!
One fine day, the boy
bravely stands up for himself
with this unvarnished truth...
"You repeatedly try to cut me open,
yet you lacerate yourself each time
you fail to break me; and you'll keep
failing, so choose your next victim!"
Bravo, kiddo, bravo!
Submitted for...
Strand Select 12,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 01/15/2020
Date written: 01/12/2020