Unashamedly Poems | Examples

Threads on Mended Seams

On edge of crevasse
splitting the whole from broken
I waver between—
weaving to escape phantoms
longing for where I belong

I mask all my scars,
with smiles etched on hollow masks
yet memory bleeds
too whole to join the broken
too fractured to pass as whole

To love life anew
to re-forge and re-ignite
requires confession
to those entrenched in shadows
that death now terrifies me

On the mended line
I'm spurned by the ones I left
unclaimed by the rest
scars reverberate the past
with no guide to where to go

Now my mends can shine
cracks repaired with molten gold
clearly on display
showing what's been can become
unashamedly mended

Fire and Shadow of the Eternal Flame

Fire and Shadow of the Eternal Flame
(c) 2025 by the Entangled Pair

You make longing feel like poems 
all soaked in sweat and truth
they flow out unashamedly
sometimes unkempt, uncouth
and as they flow somehow they show
the yearnings of our youth

I come to you as fire and shadow
filling you with pleasured pain
pulsing you to overflowing
striving to relieve the strain
dissolving all that is not us
'til only we remain

we peer behind us, blissfully
into that other worldly place
we feel the beat of our contentment
see the thing that knows our face
our questions answered by reply
'this flame may dim but never die'

Cell Phone Break Out

She said I love you.
I said I love you.
The waitress said I love you.
The table of ten said I love you.
Am I in a movie?
Will they soon break out in song?
We broke out in laughter.
It’s all right though it feels all wrong.
Perhaps the whole world could learn -
unashamedly exclaim the same;
and laughter, likewise engages the heart.

~     ~     ~

Elle a dit je t’aime.
J’ai dit je t'aime.
La serveuse a dit je t’aime.
La table de dix personnes a dit je t’aime.
Suis-je dans un film?
Vont-ils bientôt se mettre a chanter?
Nous avons éclaté de rire.
C’est bien, même si ça semble mal.
Peut-être que le monde entier pourrait apprendre -
s’exclamer sans honte la même chose;
et le rire engage également le cœur.

I Gave Her a Dandelion

A cool damp spring day
Jonquils shivered
Dandelions danced dizzily
Swaying slowly in a chill wind
Sensually strutting their stuff
Unashamedly celebrating their weedness
Bowing to the jeering crowd
The glow of their sunshine faces
Savoring freedom
While dreaming of a flower vase

I gave her a dandelion
                                 ... It wept

I Wish It Were Us

I see couples lovingly walking down the road holding their hands.
I wish it were us doing the same in different lands.
I long for us to live unashamedly so in love.

Escape From Life

What becomes of a world of war?
The world is crowded, lonely, happy and sad
Bored I am of life I am bored
Whisperings of life hint it is stressed

The strait between hope and despair
Forthwith bears an obscure seclusion
A menace seeping through the pores of gladness
What is deprived but a hope that's deferred?

To live again is as sure as to die
To die is as certain as to live
How live the man of what kills him?
He obviously kills what keeps him alive

There's no goodness in the dead
You only live alive to forge ahead
Fall down flat, bounce back up
You fall deceased, but not back up

Next to the senile mind of wisdom I learn
The juvenile meddles unashamedly with the root of serious evils
I behold aloof as the young cruelly earns
The black and gray seek an escape from life's tempest

Why Be a Poet

I’m asked if my literary work is fiction or reality
Do I compose to inspire those to read with affection
Expressing my thoughts and feelings through poetry
Weaving my spiritual, cultural, or historical reflections

Applying humor and sadness or simple common folklore
Acceptance of my gift to write in free verse or rhyme
Often integrating images, creativity, and metaphors
I hope reading my poetry never wastes anyone’s time

A cluster of thoughts akin to an array of butterflies
Flutters in my head like a mass of balanced accounts
A helium-filled balloon, and at its end is a string tied 
Trees bid farewell to leaves cascading to the ground

Bring to life the mind’s imagination for what it is worth
Travailing and pushing the words out is how we express
Just as a soon-to-be mother, in due season, brings birth
A subtle way to connect, we, poets, unashamedly confess

On plain parchment that influenced us in every walk of life
Leaving an everlasting mark of our poetic pleasure or pain
Like footprints on the beach or a scar from a serrated knife
We are poets because we love leaving an indelible ink stain

Across the Ocean

Across the ocean 
The abnormal is normalized 
There, where perverts lose shame,
Coming out of the closet, 
 putrid degeneracy seeks renown,
unashamedly, sensuality is stuffed on your throat. 
begging for acceptance by law, 
innocent kids no longer safe,  
a subtle compelling propaganda 
men supposedly intelligent,
advocating immoral identity
urging us all to give up our sanity 
from toleration to acceptance, 
as gradually society degenerates 
I stick to my African values. 
And stand aloof in awe and amazement

Froth

He showed her around his studio
An artist’s working place
Then he took her hand
Looked her in the face
He said I don’t wish to trouble you
And I don’t want to intrude
But you are so young and beautiful
May I paint you in the nude

She blushed so delightfully
Uttered a pleased embarrassed yes
Then stood there in amazement 
As he started to undress
He stood there at his easel
In the cool light of that morn
As unashamedly naked 
As the day that he was born

Only Poor Star

On the outskirts of Liverpool
lie's a place called Kirkby

Where the residents were supposed
to be so poor

They were unashamedly referred to
and labeled as Sock Robber's

Due to the fact they were so poor
they would even steal socks off other 
people's washing line's once put out
and left to dry

But better still whilst listening to them
discuss between themselves from
different area or parts of Kirkby

Which was worse and who was 
poorest I overheard this 1 of them say

People in Southdene where you are
from don't actually realize what they
think or believe to be is the North Star
the brightest star in the sky at night 

Is actually in fact the search light 
eminent from the police helicopter 
circling overhead permanently

Collections

COLLECTIONS
so relevant
to
explore


 always
unashamedly
 unsettling
swirls  abound
reimagined
&rendered
figuratively
in
vigorous
scene
with
hints
of
 the occasional
amidst
the static

immersive
 perhaps holistic
   fashioned
 as a kind
of
 contrast


a
triumph
of
allegory
  represented
by
beauty
in energy
by  way
 of lightness
 coinciding
with
the odd
 vision
 that’s
so precise


NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE   using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand

Mothers Milk Praise

I am unashamedly willing to admit

That whatever faint praise I get

I am also then willing to milk until the
cow's come home

Because it really doesn't happen
very often or hardly even at all 

But I sure as hell do appreciate it

So thank you 1 and all 

For what though may be in short supply

Is Mother's Milk to me

Unbiassed Media

The Unbiassed Media

Bombs rain on Gaza, the youth throw stones, the Israeli soldiers killed 
or maim stone throwers, a dance of death.
What do the leading media say? Not very much,
the Gazans must be partly blamed; the victims are guilty
of the strength of being Palestinians defending their right.
In Hebron, the settlers are razing houses, killing goats and setting fire
 to olive trees and daily is the death of those who get in their way.
The media might have a byline about it, that’s all.
If Israel is criticized, it unashamedly invokes the sacred Holocaust
and calls us antisemitic
 Should a Jew speak up, he/her is called a self-hater
and be banned from entering the stolen land of Israel forever.

Friendship

A place so peaceful yet so pure in heart 
A place so soothing and calm like a branch that never wither
For in this place something is definitely special 

There is weight of gold, joy and support and unfolding years of comfort. 

You make this place grow in me 
You make it grow in my heart like a smile known to lift up my spirit 

Oh joy, you are like a fallen tree with branches whispering love in my darkest moments 
When my soul met yours it tip-toed around making me recall memories of weeping. 
With these memories we became the entanglement of this earth.
Indeed destiny made us meet. 

With friendship you made my place to be full of love and made it a warm place 
You are a long warm hug 
You are family and a whole clan of people
Unashamedly I am unafraid to call you my check in place where I find whatever I am looking for. 

Poet 
Masego Nkuna

Prayer

Prayer
Clasped were her hands, bowed was her head.
 Standing in front of the idols, she invoked her for the beads she had to shed.
Unashamedly the precious pearls overcome her vision.
Here she was in communion with the one, the Supreme, her icon.
A sanctuary where the contents of her soul were unreservedly poured.
A haven where the mask of wellness and the facade of pretentious happiness were disrobed.
An urge too strong to be ignored, she laid bare her dignity.
Here she was herself, she felt herself, she glorified herself in serenity.
Letting go of the intense sorrow that consumed her spirit, she sought solace from Mother Goddess.
Her faith in that powerful entity survived her through the darkness.
The script of her life unbeknownst to her was her blessing.
The heartache, struggles, stress and strain was all her doing.
Now with the eyes close, the soothing presence embraced every figment, every shred and every particle of the fickle ornament; 
A gift to the child coming to her in prayer fervent.

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