Unclad Poems

Semi-Salted

He deserved, but never served

As a squid just like his dad

Well preserved, but fragile nerved

All emotions were unclad

Anxiously, he set to sea

Needing moxy really bad

Waves of three, his soul set free

Now ever a salty lad

A Fantasy at Fall's End

At fall's end, I breathe her colors in and sigh.
Unleashed, I soar with leaves, for it's a thrill
to taste chill wind and dance into the sky.
Unclad and glad, I swirl with clouds until
I drift through mist. Farewell to all of this.
Winter soon will bring my lips its snow-wet kiss.

The Lights Of The O-R

Dodging a bullet 
the Pet Scan loomed large… 
results both good and bad 

"Nothing today 
to panic about " 
 tomorrow left unclad 

The moment secure 
the future unsure… 
prognosis under siege 

The lights of the O.R. 
calling his name 
— with hope the last reprieve 

(University Of Pennsylvania: September, 2020)

Silver Beckoning Moon Whispers

Written: June 4th 2024, For Joseph May Contest

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silver beckoning moon 
Shuffle along, unsettling ground
Exposed by truth unclad unbound

Shattered promise-laden blue eyes
Birthed fire with whisper
Silver beckoning moon 

Bare, glittering sheath.
Velvet sky, tormented with anguish 
Shuffle along, unsettling ground

Revealing withheld splendor
While dawn casts shadows
Exposed by truth unclad unbound

A Window To The Soul

The eyes are the windows to the soul
But I once had my shades pulled down
A mysterious individual difficult to figure
Masqueraded around town as a clown

Always been known as a jester at heart
But some say it's a cover, a facade
To hide this feeling of insecurity inside
Wouldn't allow my soul to be unclad

Well that most certainly used to be true
But poetry has allowed me to be me
Under the cover of a protected environment
It's allowed my true self to be free

The truth will out it's always been said
In my case it's proven to be so
Owe my appreciation to all my poet friends
And to Cathie, my wife, my soul

A new found confidence after many years
Not the person I started out to be
Feeling of freedom expressing my thoughts
Nonjudgemental, a feeling of free

The eyes, it's said, are the windows to the soul
No truer words have ever been spoken
Poetry has allowed me to forever be free
My long silence has now been broken

Heartbeats and Moonbeams

I thought about you lots last night
The moon and I were friends
We kept each other company
Companions 'til the end

I counted sheep to fall asleep
It didn't work too well
But once I had you on my mind
Off the cliff I fell

A deep doze then enveloped me
A dream state soon ensued
A lakefront through a vista 
The vision was imbued

With a woman silhouetted
Beneath the shimmering trees
Approaching from behind her
I weakened at the knees

My arms then wrapped around her waist
On her neck I placed a kiss
She turned and looked right at me
Her eyes said "yes" to this 

Her hair was blowing in the wind
I moved it with my hand
I brushed it back from off her face
Her beauty was so grand

We walked a path together
It led us to a shore
No words were necessary 
We knew we wanted more

Unclad from any branding
Hand in hand we waded in
And then we swam, three elements
Water, skin, and skin

A night aflame continued
The morning came too soon
But waiting for me when I woke 
Was my old friend, the moon

Icy Waters

I wade into the icy waters
And weave my way amongst the reeds
And watch the ducks as they scuttle
From ripple to ripple diving playfully.
 
I feel so young despite my age
When in the stream I unclad my feet.
Rough soles, thick though sore
Move carefully over shingles bare.
 
It is as if the water cleanses
My heavy soul from all its sins
From so many transgressions
From so many injustices.
 
But it is always thus with life it seems
That we remember only the ugly past;
We soon forget our good and blessings
Instead we suffer greed for a better life.
 
So let us raise our expectations,
Commit ourselves to our resolutions.
Go on our journey through its destination
And waste not our lives in angry simulations.
 
For if like ducks we dive into the stream
And search for tidbits, juicy and sweet,
We'll find so many treasures that 
We should forever hold so dear.

Full Moon

Daily bouquets from me just for you
Sprays of fresh dainties each morning anew
They're not made from flowers as one would expect
But corsages of orchids of music bedecked
Posies of pieces played straight from my heart 
Unspoken words, melodies of art
Unclad and uncovered, my soul now in view
Be gentle, these bouquets are played just for you

Squirrels In the Sycamore

Last leaves have fallen from the sycamore tree
Leaving her limbs unclad, so naked and bare
While they wait for their new coats of cottony
White snow, and the squirrels, here and there,

Skitter about searching for the nuts they stored
All summer long for wintry days they anticipated
Most of them have found carefully stashed hordes
Since the leaves are raked and falling has abated.

Instinctively, they hurry to prepare for the winds
Securing their leaf nests in the hollows of limbs
They even seem to cooperate as squirrel friends
As the warmth of a November sun steadily dims. 

A sense of barrenness and busyness on the lawn
As the sycamore filters the dimming light through
Up early, I can see the squirrels working at dawn,
Mother Nature has taught them exactly what to do. 

Written November 6, 2022

Somewhere In the Thick Dark Forest

SOMEWHERE IN THE THICK DARK FOREST

Somewhere in the thick dark forest,
There, you'd find captives 
held against their will.

Hands bound, legs chained,
They lay on the hard ground, half unclad.
Dehydrated from thirst and hunger.

Separated from their families,
As many nights and day come and go,
Thought of their imminent freedom very bleak.

The blood thirsty abductors,
Show no mercy nor compassion
As they raise their long hard twisted whips,

And dig into the wounded skin of their slaves,
With each strike, they curse and yell,
Ready to exterminate.

Men,women and children weep uncontrollably,
They have been dealt heavy blows.
Some have fallen, some have been scarred.


Somewhere in the thick dark forest,
Captives still languish 
in the camp of their abductors.

When a Flower Waits

They sit with a purpose in sight
inviting me sweetly with bright 
yes they bloom at will
cuz they know the drill
those flowers of sentinel light 

Competing for my sweet attention 
they wait for my pollen retention 
they signal me home 
where I love to roam 
those flowers of beauty reflection 

Wiping the pollen away I am glad   
secreting the nectar dropping a tad   
a succulent flower 
sure holds the power 
when a seedling in love goes unclad.     

  

June 10, 2022 
Sponsor:	Matt Caliri
Contest Name:	Bee Creative

Proper Use of the Zerox Copier - Ap

Xerox copier sounds raise my eyebrows			
wondering if he’s photographing unclad organs	
like another time?							

Beware zealous dismay from your justifiably		
Quickly vacating nervy, kinky gentlemen!


written November 5, 2021
for "Alphabet Soup" poetry contest
sponsored by William Kekaula

Rumors of Unicorns

I've heard rumors of unicorns
Seen only by the faithful sworn
Rising in glories you foretold
From valleys where oceans are born

You spoke of passages in gold
To take, if my vision was bold
Enough to follow where you led
Unquestioning, into the cold

I fell for promises unsaid
Surrendered to you every shred
Of light and beauty I once had
And to your dark delusions wed

We left as sun-blinded nomads
Criss crossing straight lines into plaid
As I remembered what I knew
Truth re-emerged, brightly unclad

I could pretend that red is blue
I could declare my heart stayed true
I could deny the voice of doubt
But I can't lie as well as you

10/09/21

Fuzzy Socks and Crocs

There are sights that can give me a start-
silly things that turn cold my warm heart;
fuzzy socks and big crocs
is an image that blocks
me accepting them as looking smart!

And for sure, when are seen on a gent
sporting shorts, untucked shirt like a tent-
bony legs, bare and thin
propped by crocs, socks within,
for sure, adds to my heart's discontent!

Then again, if he seems kind of old,
maybe his unclad feet do get cold!
Fuzzy socks then would do
inside crocs- from this view,  
now my heart sees him comfy and bold!


June 9, 2021

Contest: Fuzzy Socks and Crocs
Sponsor: Francine Roberts

If Christ Were To Return

If Christ in his triumph and glory
Decides to unravel a new chapter and story
By returning from whence he departed,
He shall in stupefaction be started,
To find out this wanton era
Has indeed,  bested Sodom and Gomorrah.

He shall stagger to behold
A frail and lackadaisical Bi Mvondo on hold,
Exorcising with his magical wand 
For still more dominion over the land.

He shall in horror watch 
Men courting men as women watch,
Holding hands and darting pecks,
wantonly on chests and necks.

He shall the Levites behold in dismay
Roaming Inns both home and away,
Presiding over unclad bodies with an exposed scrotum,
A duty, absent on their holy curriculum.

He shall wince at the sight of the brewery,
And gape at the sight of the Levites' golden crockery.
For which the masses residing in carnage
Have been plundered and pillaged.

Shuddering, He shall run back to His Father
And on his way, pen an apology letter, to Sodom and Gomorrah.
                           © Temajung Michael T.

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