Short Unreadable Poems

Out in public,
we maintain a stoic face.
Unreadable minds...

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It was a fake time,
moon will not rise.

Words were afloat 
on junk dna.

A stonefaced pseudonym
dies point-blank.

The surprise, the speed
was not on our radar.

The ravenous siblings
now asleep on walls.

Naive or disingenuous.
A sitting Buddha will decide.



Satish Verma...

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Teachers foregather,
To learn forthcoming battle,
But fuming the day.

Down their heads  in books, 
With unreadable feelings,
Tea brings high spirits.

Checked their performance
was trainer of all of them,
Showed fury at them.

To fondle them lot,
Try to be amiable,
But of no avail....

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I am the ever shifting sand
The unreadable truth
Ever constant, ever changing
I know all that is past and all that is yet to come

You are not the same as all the rest
Travel your own path
Trace that singular destiny

Your fate is as yet undecided
One day you may prove yourself

Should the gods be willing...

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Why does one write poetry?
To get lost in the solace of words,
to encourage one to look at birds;
or is it something much less communicable:
a state of being, like a look in the eye,
that is unreadable?
We could talk night and day,
about the how and why,
but the only thing that is foreseeable
is the poet coming back again
for the ink and pen....

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All the words ever uttered
arise from that one first
petulant cradle song
of 'why'?
A question
reprised and voiced
with infinite variations.

Mysterious ways test us constantly.

A mystery writer
rewards both the hearing the
and the deaf.
That One
provides every insight.

In truth, the book of life
remains unreadable
unless we write it....

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Timeless as the galaxy 
friendly as a Flower. 
Loving like a momma cub 
Defensive as a father. 
Brilliant blue eyes 
wondering like the waters. 
Effortlessly changing 
like the moon changing the tides. 
Love Burning bright 
like a comet in the sky. 
Heart still broken 
Unreadable through the lines. 
One day healing 
Like a dessert no longer dry....

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All the words ever uttered
arise from that one first
petulant cradle song
of 'why'?
A 'why'
reprised and voiced
with infinite variations.

Mysterious ways test us constantly.

The One mystery writer however
rewards both the hearing the
and the deaf,
by writing yet more mysteries
with our own hands.

In truth, the book of life
is unreadable
unless we write it....

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Penned words in cursive letters
Unreadable by many the meaning so deep

Hearts hidden treasures often sublime 
Pictures in lockets kisses to sleep

Sugar and spice a lovers dream
Mixed emotions forever lost

Caressing and touching feeling so close
Words are few whatever the cost

And I in your arms in our heavenly bed
To brave  the winters ravenous cold

A treasure our love is forever to have
Within we are sheltered and never grow old....

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What if Heaven….
is HELL….
The ultimate
gated
retirement community.
No “crazy” old neighbors
talking to their cats,
feeding their plastic flamingoes
styrofoam packing peanuts.
No music
unless downloaded
from a select play list,
no flags, no bumper stickers,
(unreadable wrinkled tattoos – OK).
No churches
if you’re here
you should know why.
Just forever smiling
angelic faces
aching
to drop a cannonball
into the pool.


John G. Lawless
©4/4/2019...

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