Short Unshaped Poems
Short Unshaped Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Unshaped by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Unshaped by length and keyword.
Her skin as soft as shadows touch
Eyes portals to lands lost
A smile naturally unnatural
and lips kissed by airs needy adoration
lost in her fondness
and find i am found
A voice that reasons sound
her body undulates with unshaped perfection
i am spoilt by her gaze
my unconquered maze
Within the soul of my experience
Unconscious seeds of tomorrow's joy,
Awaiting the warmth of encouragement
Lay dormant,seeking inspiration's light;
Words,verbs,adjectives,aimless,without form,
Times,past,times present,amalgams of verse
Unshaped,until imagination's birth,
Bursts from the spring of my maturity.
all glittering is not gold!
we the dweller of world
live in enigmatic glittering
dream to posses everything
run after the mirage of desire
oh! Nothing these shining are
at last all entrepreneur find alluring ashes
ash is changing in shape to unshaped gases
turned into seen to unseen
sigh fill up despondency bin
-January 17, 2019 Chattogram
Existence
Can we experience
existence
without reference
to the body..?
Is this frightening..?
Or is it real freedom..?
Our bodies simply
are thought's boundaries
which corral
the multitudinous flow
of inner thoughts and
sensations and
of outer perceptions..
All of these mind things
are temporary shape-ings
of our true nature:
an infinite and
unshaped Existence...
Within the soul of my experience
Unconscious seeds of tomorrow's joy,
Awaiting the warmth of encouragement
Lay dormant,seeking inspiration's light;
Words,verbs,adjectives,aimless,without form,
Times,past,times present,amalgams of verse
Unshaped,until imagination's birth,
Bursts from the spring of my maturity.
Inspired by the words of RS Thomas'Poetry for Supper' see my blog today
WHITE FLOWERS OF BEAUTY
Within the soul of my experience
Unconscious seeds of tomorrow's joy,
Awaiting the warmth of encouragement
Lay dormant,seeking inspiration's light;
Words,verbs,adjectives,aimless,without form,
Times past, times present,amalgams of verse
Unshaped,until imagination's birth,
Bursts from the spring of my maturity.
Listen to me read this poem on youtube under name of ichthyschiro
the heights - too high - can't reach
the head, the hands over the emptiness
it stands like the earth pole line - unshaped
dead all beneath the roots of it
running - driving - tuning with the stormy winds
and then losing - and then disappearing
the heights - too high; none can reach
but the mind - the imaginative mind -
the confident faith - all in one day will be
Faded glory
04.08.2020 Chattogram
WHITE FLOWERS OF BEAUTY
Within
the soul of my experience
unconscious seeds
of tomorrow's joy
waiting
the warmth of encouragement
lay dormant
seeking inspiration's light
words verbs adjectives
aimless without form
Times past times present
amalgams of verse
unshaped
'til imagination's birth
from the spring
of my maturity.
repostfrom 2010
Words
verbs
aimless
adjectives
amalgams of verse
unshaped until
imagination's birth
bursts
fly free
on unfettered wings
blown to
&fro
to settle
long
forgotten dreams
as words floating
as petals
on a stream
a fragrance that lingers
a passage of light
inspiration
delineated
as
a thought
ribbon
originality
conceived perceived
crystallised
in relief
Opening my eyes—
I return to reality.
Without the world's embrace,
I stand on my own feet.
Clinging to fantasy
To grasp a sense of reality.
Lost in distant and hazy dreams.
With every blink of my eyes,
I remember someone...
Someone whose name I cannot say,
Whose voice I do not recognize,
Someone who never left
A mark in my memory,
Yet somehow carved her
Presence into my breath.
A faceless woman
In my dreams.
Shifting Sands of Youth
youth was squandered on me
young
as I forgot the song
I’d sung
was worn away by
roiling surf
edges of my unshaped
soul
succumbed to living’s
churning toll
time and tide
relentlessly
had their changing way
with me
as youth was hardened
beneath smooth shell
its shifting sand
story’s to tell
youth can’t be squandered
on the young
who’ve found another song -
and sung
John G. Lawless
©12/10/2018
A life created,
not yet rated,
plenty to bend,
to escape and reshape.
To exist in the lost and found.
Spill my full glass,
make me empty,
then half empty,
then half full.
When I do refill,
spill and spill again,
till I'm once again empty.
Spill a life created,
a version unrated.
Spill the glass.
Smash the glass.
Bend and reshape.
Exist with no shape.
The mess of a life created,
your place,
your shape,
unshaped,
and erased.
I have a quiet space
in the centre of myself
behind a high wall
where I go to listen.
I keep all my unwritten
poems there, some sleep
in a wordless dream
waiting to be awoken,
others are cloaked
in a vague notion
or an unshaped need
looking for way
to find form, a prayer
yet to be spoken
and be given a name.
Mostly though I hear
only the sound of myself,
my own machinery,
the taken breath,
my heartbeat, masking
what waits
to be made known.
Scratching the rusted face
of the dust storm?
to read the message.
I have come very far,
from the old stinks.
It was not the escape.
The unshaped sap,
spills from the cut end?
of treetops. I gather your cones.
The fall begins abruptly.
It was a landslide of
leaf drop. Yellow and brown.
I wait for the red.
It reminds me of blood
dripping from your poem.
Satish Verma