Long Unwed Poems
Long Unwed Poems. Below are the most popular long Unwed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unwed poems by poem length and keyword.
Here I Inherited a dreaded chore
In the heat of a summer’s nightmare
Clear out the gloom of the garage store
Heaps of THINGS left duly in its care
To be free of them for evermore
And their ever-present nasty stare
A world of mindless soulless things
Accumulation of uncounted scores of years
Covered in the grey dust that age brings
Some filled with memories of laughter
And others with the salt of many tears
Living on in the world of the forever after
Shoved against their will into all possible angles
Expanding into the air choking the space tightly
And now I am sinking into a net of their tangles
Down into the desolation of this waste
Where deadly spirits fly to walk here alone nightly
And swiftly leave in the morning light with haste
Dark creatures carrying curses imprisoning this heap
Piling more upon this mass of things each trip
Clutching on forever to the memories in its grip
That forgotten calendars somehow want to keep
And what secrets did these dark corners hold?
A painted picture of an unwed sleeping bride?
A ball of yarn and knitting needles sitting in the cold
A forgotten life they want to hide?
They guard the key to what this dark place means
Souvenirs full of the gloom of evil fairy schemes
And now, I was Aurora’s unknowing prince
Clearing away the curse of life’s ruined rubble
The day she fell asleep none have entered since
And so I come through a frozen forest of things and trouble
Hard against the breathing of a chorus of cursing cats
And the foul smoky voice of a vicious vile vengeful witch
Sending flying up into the air a thousand deadly bats
She swooshing out from under a blanket of black Siberian snow
I was at the end of a Russian fairy tale we all have come to know
An unsuspecting hero, heir to an inheritance with a special twist
VERSE 1.
Some people ask for more;
I'm an unwed mother;
Teen born in my loneliness;
I just want love, from anyone;
Some people past for joy;
I'll take any one;
While others seek bigger and better toys;
Now I don't want much and I don't ask for gold;
Chorus:
My heart is purple;
Purple is as the rose;
Rose to the occasion;
And I am not by any means whole;
I stand in this land of pearls jewels, nor raisin Cain;
As a boat leaves the shore,
you leave me alone with
Mother's Baby Boy
VERSE 2
Some people ask for more
Some people past for joy;
Some people pace the floors;
While others seek bigger and better joys;
I explore as you close the doors (on me)
Now I still don't want no silver or gold (silver or gold)
I just want to be held, want to be loved
What does this teenaged girl knows??. . . .
Chorus:
My heart is purple;
Purple is as the rose;
Rose to the occasion;
And I am not by any means whole;
I stand in this land of pearls jewels, nor raisin Cain;
As a boat leaves the shore,
you leave me alone with
Mother's Baby Boy
Reframe:
I'm suspended yet independent still no nothing;
Trying to be grown and. . .
of this I shouldn't ignored;
My life has just been reborn;
Impregnated in my sins,
Did' I say I was just a teen
My life has just been reborn, a child from God is love;
No matter how he comes
others say he must stop, but I 'll carry him til I drop;
As the boat leaves for shore;
he's my
Mother's Baby Boy
Chorus:
My heart is purple;
Purple is as the rose;
Rose to the occasion;
And I am not by any means whole;
I stand in this land of pearls jewels, nor raisin Cain;
As a boat leaves the shore,
you leave me alone with
Mother's Baby Boy
09/19/71
from the Short
Story Play Omaha North High School/UNO College entry:
"Mother's Baby Boy"
Beneath umbra skies I seek a mirrored moment
the breeze a capricious charmer
blows serpentine sways to life
a ballet of tall switchgrass dancers
sweeping edges raspy green
dulling in the ever dimming light
their brassy symphony a soft cymbals’ siss
lure my thoughts to ramble a willowy maze
mesmerizing my mental landscape at sunset
whispers lulling my linger
moon-shimmer lends its voice
to chanting chimes in magenta magic
dropping notes afloat on aging August’s currents
like a sprinkling of stardust
upon a cradlesong
hymns of Venus vespers soothing me
my silhouette glides
a twilight shadow an astral body
with a vitality all its own
as the unwed wind ushers
my air brushed footsteps
to where wild whimsy wafts my sighs
free from fetters
a fading breath liberated to dusk
vibrations in violet call my name
I have found the echo to my essence
a spirit aswirl in a whirl of charcoal veils -
I seize a sylph’s escape
and amidst the darkened veils.. we dance
Susan Ashley
August 24, 2019
~ Fifth Place ~
Premiere Contest: A Brain Strand Choice No 1185
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Contest: N/A Rerun 3
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~ Poem Of The Week ~
Week of September 1, 2019
First you breathe on her
Was it love or lust?
Was it fact or fiction?
You stared in the windows through my heart
Of age or not
We begot
A child co-created along the way
Conceived only in the Marriage Bed
With our inner thoughts as well as our outer parts
If we didn’t want a child
We shouldn’t have been bound
To our allure’s
While in our tangents
We’re hell bent to ignore ourselves each other family and God
Finding it odd no one
Didn't listen to the hymn
Didn't listen to our peers
Didn't listen to mother or father
Interlude intercourse anyway
Now our peers say...abort
Now those tears flow in our lust and sins now to soon
Now we should have waited
Now those sins are heavy and laden
We should both have stay a virgins
and just wait to...
Conceived only in the Marriage Bed
Don’t do the act, if you want to relax
Don’t do the thing, if you want to be free
Don’t undress, then latter protest
If you wanna be free, be real
Wait until the marriage bed
Don’t play with God or Woman
Abstinence be morally free
Conceived only in the Marriage Bed
Abort not keep your hands and genitals to yourselves
There’s no maybe’s, in co-creating a baby
Unless you’re in the marriage bed
Only then, only then this is what God sanctions
Of age or not
We shall not begot
Didn't listen to the hymn
Didn't listen to our peers
Didn't listen to mother or father
Interlude intercourse anyway
Now our peers say...abort
Now those tears flow in our lust and sins now to soon
Now we should have waited
Now those sins are heavy and laden
We should both have stay a virgins
and just wait to...
A child co-created along this way
With our inner thoughts as well as our outer parts
If we didn’t want a child
We shan’t be bound only from now on repented we will only,
Conceive only in the Marriage Bed
10/10/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
We are called to love one another as sisters and as brothers. We are called to pray for one another, our mothers and our fathers. We are called to spread the good news of hope, grace and mercy, across the seas and across the lands. We are called to understand.
We are called to preach peaceful solutions in times of peace and of war. It is one of the reasons Jesus Christ put his peace keepers on planet earth for. We are called to be the disciples of our beloved Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We are called to follow in his footsteps. We are called to feed the hungry.
We are called to offer shelter to the homeless. We are called to provide shoes for the shoeless. We called to provide shelter from the natural storms of life. We are called to spread the gospel news of Jesus Christ. We care called to provide hope for the hopeless. We are called to become the friends of the friendless and lonely people of the world. We are called to speak out for social, domestic, and political injustices.
We are called to speak out for freedom and justice. We called to liberate all of the slaves held in captivity by their fellow man. We are called to become the voice for those who have no chance or have no choice. We are called to be united to be called "for liberty and justice for all." We are called to await the morning's sunrise and thank God we are still alive.
We are called to always be there in good times and in bad for those who have no mothers, no fathers, or no sisters or brothers. We are called to comfort and provide care for the orphans and needy children of the world. We are called to rescues those in the drug trafficking and drug cartels, street gangs, organized crime and the sexual slavery trade. We are called to reach out to those who are afraid and are unable to run away from sexual slavery and domestic violence.
We are called to reach out and help single and unwed mothers or unwed athers and their unborn and born children. We are called upon those who are unable to take care of themselves. We are called to become the mouth, the eyes, the hands and the feet of our beloved Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
January 28, 2020
Now, Railroad Bob has lost his job, he’s got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking.
The union man don’t give a damn, Big Brother lies a’ lurking,
the boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope -
she casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
and stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
the stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, unwed, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
“She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
Continued
When I was a young woman- I said to father,
I hate my name . . .
He looked sad and did not give an answer,
oh, suddenly I was so filled with shame !
And it was the next day,
father said- come I want to talk with you,
I have something to say;
my dear sister was a lady of great virtue.
I loved her and promised to name a child,
on her death bed . . .
She was beautiful and just a bit wild,
her love died at war and she stayed unwed;
but still happy with life!
And she was a wonderful writer of poetry,
now, in the afterlife.
Daughter, I see you share her sweet beauty.
She wrote poetry- she was a writer,
wrote like I do . . .
As we talked father showed me her picture,
I held it tight and it was then that I knew,
that I was proud !
I sighed- wish I knew you when I was young,
and I shouted loud,
love my name! To her pic I have always clung.
_______________________
November 26, 2017
Poetry/Rhyme/I Said To Father
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9664-14-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Wish I Knew
You When I Was Young,
sponsor, Julie Leigh Rodenheaver
Second Place
Author’s note: The following is in haibun form—poetic prose (microfiction with less than 200 words in this case) coupled with a haiku. It was written in response to a writing prompt to (re)tell a Christmas story in local (Michigan in this case) contemporary terms. Bronson Hospital is our local hospital, and deer are mystical creatures when encountered on foot in local parks but road hazards when encountered in vehicles at night. Indeed, we all have mystically tinged obstacles on our sacred/secular life journeys through the dark toward the light.
By Mark D. Stucky
José suddenly brakes and swerves. The rusty Jeep barely misses the deer that had jumped onto the dark road and stared wide-eyed at the approaching lights. Fortunately, no other traffic obstacles slow the drive to Bronson Hospital…but he still fears the future since he and Maria have no insurance or documentation.
José feels jumpy-yet-paralyzed like that deer, haunted by fears about their long journey from their impoverished village. They had often felt unwelcome in this strange new land, but at least fewer people here were judgmental of an unwed pregnancy.
José shivers, partly from anxiety but mostly from the cold. His meager jacket hardly protects against freezing weather, conditions alien to his previous life. He reaches over and pulls the blanket up around Maria’s shoulders, and she smiles weakly. Maria murmurs to him that in spite of her discomfort and doubts in this time of trouble, she feels a miraculous peace of God, protecting them and promising a better life for their coming son. José glances at her and, for the first time in months, smiles too as he drives toward the lights ahead.
Journey of hopeful
pilgrimage into unknown
possibilities
(First published in Small Town Anthology VIII: Entries from the Eighth Annual Tournament of Writers, Vicksburg Cultural Arts Center, 2022, p. 161. Indeed, Jesus and his family left Bethlehem to become undocumented immigrants in Egypt to escape violence during his earliest years.)
(Image by Tomas Anunziata on Pexels.com.)
Going from one kind
of hell to another
The women would change
— but his torment remained
**
Fidelity’s Orphan
The lies are easy
but truth gives me trouble
Veracity’s mistress
lingers unwed
Deceit an enchantress
that woos in our folly
Fidelity’s orphan
— unnamed and ill bred
**
Bridges
Wit
is the difference
between a quote
— and a quip
**
Robin’s Hood
To live
outside the law
if righteousness
decrees
To stand alone
against the throne
fugitive
— and free
**
Misdirection
You can’t change what is
with what isn’t
You can’t say goodbye
with hello
You can’t fix what’s wrong
with ill mention
You can’t touch the sky
— from below
**
Lessons Belie
You can never teach
the heart of a poem
only its form or structure
at best
What’s beating inside
every lesson belies
and no box or its wrapper
— will ever attest
**
Ancient Jaws
Hiding
below the surface
Water
muddy and stark
A snapping
turtle waits in silence
Lurking
— in the dark
**
One Eye Left Open
All change is internal
the outside world staid
Heaven’s dead reckon
is trapped in the senses
Caught in a mirror
of transient reflection
One eye left open
— the other relayed
**
Between The Notes
Idleness
hides the most
attractive
industry
Often
the most valued
part of
the day
Lost
in the magic
of chance
undetermined
Rich
not in money
but in wonder
— assayed
**
Safe Harbors
Encircled by memory
old feelings surround
Confronted by turmoil
they seek common ground
Each musing familiar
old thoughts from the fray
Marching together
— to carry the day
**
Never Stop Believing
Never say no
till you’re
too busy
to say yes
Never stop writing
till the
words
have regressed
Never stop asking
till the
last question’s
gone
Never stop believing
till
right
— becomes wrong
**
(This is a fictional poem)
My neighbor does something that's out of sight.
He has babies by himself because he's a hermaphrodite.
He has one baby after another.
It's not easy being both a father and a mother.
He was raised to believe that it's wrong for a father and mother to be unwed so
he married himself.
He has twenty kids so he's not big on wealth.
He wears dresses in public and he looks weird.
He's the only person in a dress who has a beard.
People tell him that he should stop having babies and he agrees.
But he doesn't know whether he's supposed to get his tubes tied or to have a
vasectomy.
Form: