Short Unvarnished Poems
Short Unvarnished Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Unvarnished by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Unvarnished by length and keyword.
Short Verse
Under a sand stone
I found the unvarnished truth
Alas it was subjective
Not a gold hued axiom
A truth void of arguments
One unbiased through a lense seen clear
Objectively,subjectively unvarnished in form
No quantum entanglements at all devoid of expectation
Free flowing electrons prism like in possibility
The other a one eighty of the above
A dash of wood varnish
A- twiddle-lee-dee
A coat of wood polish
A-twiddle-lee-dum
An Easter red bonnet
A twiddle-lee-doo
We shall be
Like unvarnished wood
Blessed by the carpenters hands
Then, he shall smooth out the rough edges
bones are bones, when left alone …
our marrow - the love, unvarnished,
but sun-to-sun, the blood's undone
by time, and the truth, so tarnished.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, September 8, 2022
Days come alive and I breathe
fresh scents of freedom, of sacrifice
floating fearlessly from your moon
your aura, an attraction anointing
my glisten, an unvarnished truth
waiting to explode/explore within
a weekend of assertations
held firmly in the depth of your eye
Ze French, they are haughty
Kremlinites, vulgar, crude
Le artiste charcoal sketches
in the unvarnished nude
Brits keep a stiff upper lip
Pointy-shoed Italians think they are hip
Ukrainians fight like the dickens
their stockpiles reduced to slim pickens
Rimas Dissolutas
Unrhymed stanzas
Rinse and repeat
Envoi garnish
Attractiveness eludes us
Tiny dancer
Awkward on her feet
Reputation tarnished
Pirouette complete
Beauty unvarnished
----------
A Rimas Dissolutas with 4-line stanzas and an envoi: abcd abcd cd
SILENT BEAUTY
Unobserved beauty
Deep in the forest, they thrive
Bluebells make no sound.
HAPPINESS
Cloud nine called to me
Happiness captured my mind
Unvarnished laughter.
LOST DREAM
Brilliant dream shattered
Claimed by a new day dawning
Never to return.
The cold, unvarnished truth
is often held back
from the malignant narcissist
out of reluctance, if not fear
of how deep it's knife would cut;
easily inflicted wound never heals
Bite Size Poem No.21 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Date written: 09/17/2021
Exposed and bare,
stripped and stark-
a body without a soul is nude...
an unclad essence in the dark.
Unvarnished and unsettled,
raw and unprotected-
me without you- defenseless...
an overt still rejected.
Within my natural modesty,
I've found a reason to be prude-
a manifestation and oddity,
I'm more hidden in the nude.
November 13, 2016
You want the blood,
not just the skin—
a poem that bleeds,
raw and open, like a wound
that won't close.
You want the truth,
sharp and unvarnished,
a mirror held up
to your own dark,
secret places.
I then will give you the bruises,
the way pain curves
around the bone.
You want the soft parts
exposed, a body laid bare
for you to feel human again.
Making sense of it all…
our grandest myth
Wisdom born of age,
bleeding youth’s betrayal
Questions dry unvarnished,
cold naked in the night
Darker darks reface the cliff,
all edges sharper cut
Two images, clearer than before,
preying in deadly contrast
Wonder imprisoning the day
—fear stalking the night
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Making sense of it all…
our grandest myth
Wisdom born of age,
bleeds from youth’s betrayal
Questions drying unvarnished,
naked meanings
Darker darks reface the cliff,
edges sharper cut
Two images, clearer than before,
preying in deadly contrast
As wonder divides the day,
—fear stalks the night
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Draw back the curtains at your wake
To welcome in October
And heartily libation take
Lest the old crows find you sober
Invite your fond familiars in
Each cat and rat and magpie
Ignite your jack-o’-lantern grin
And kiss the moon at midnight
Fling far and wide your festive gold
Let no leaf go unvarnished
Stoke hearth and heart against the cold
Lest silver linings tarnish.
Red beacon, burnished landmark
Rustic domiscile, ruddy stable
Sentinel on the scenic route
Natural redoubt with primitive clout
Wooden canvas, organic sculpture
Unvarnished facade with homespun charm
Fabricated equine loft
Habituated shelter for rodent, fowl
Free-flowing form in static realm
Leased to the fertile land you adorn
Pastoral heirloom, cherished monument
Essential dwelling, nostalgic mold
I am
a windmill, dilapidated but still rotating, creaking,
Lake Windermere off season, quiet and autumnal,
a tooth ache throbbing, an irritation, black decay inside.
I am
a foot stool unvarnished, one leg uneven, rarely used,
a penny farthing holding up traffic, out of time and season,
a pop song, mimed.
I am
an apple, red amongst a bowl of green.
I am one line short of a verse.
I am a letter unopened and unread,
returned to s-
The artists
Alfred, my chosen father, who denied
The paternity has his statue erected in Faro
At last, they honoured him for being glorious
Brought colour to an otherwise gloomy town.
Graffiti made by the likes of Banksy charms,
Most of the rest is scribbling on a wall.
I know little about a painter but Caravaggio
Spoke the unvarnished truth about our life.
His critics like to point out he was illegal too
What else to expect from a truth-teller.
Artists
Alfred, by chosen father, vehemently denies
the paternity and has had his statue erected in Faro.
At last, he was honoured for being glorious
bringing colour to an otherwise gloomy town.
Graffiti made by the like of Banksy charms
the rest is scribbling on a wall.
I know little about painters except for Caravaggio
he spoke the unvarnished truth about our life.
His critics like to point out that he was illegal too
what else to expect of the fearful.