Simply to put text that we cannot cover anything complex
There was a simplified version of every object-- an annex
The loss of everything to put it understandable; loosing context
Was like cutting all of the trees just to portray land like Lorax
Though, where we put things behind the bars is just the manifesto
Everything could be described out and reasoned with a memo
I was warned by Spinoza, that not everything fits out and can be a reductio
So, would a man be reasoning out of everything killing complexity would be a maestro
A virtuoso indeed, to be smart that it leaps every precautionary never stumbled
Wish I was that man to hide complexity, to assign simplicity-- oversimplified
But, I would lose the essence of dopamine in searching question categorized
As I would never understand if short text means something to unconcealed
It was nineteen-eighty and I felt great -
off to the carnival with Brenda on a date.
Am I really going out with this beauty?
Showing her a good time - that was my duty.
Under the stars, on the intramural field,
her excitement for the rides was unconcealed.
The stars and lights flashed in her pretty eyes -
it was like fireworks exploding in the skies,
but I was looking at a lot more than that -
and was hoping for more than rides and a chat.
For her fun was a ride on a Ferris wheel,
but I was all wrapped up in her sex appeal.
We were together, but on a different page,
The rides scared me - upside down in a cage!
My goodness, that was forty-five years ago.
I wish I could have shared her experience, though.
And that was my first and last date with Brenda,
a boy and a girl with a different agenda.
At Lough Allua, along the waterfront
One observes a turning of the tide
From river stones, which stay blunt
Are nature’s creatures, who needn’t hide
A little toad searches for anew
Commencing a journey made by few
Its passage, grows so weary
Following the gravel track
On its way to Ballingeary
High ditches cloak edges of the roads
Serving to both sides, a useful shield
Tender branches break against the cars
And one peers through leaves, into a field
To spot vibrant hydrangeas, unconcealed
Yet across the rugged boundary
One can hear the mud clumps crack
With a sand-tinted Hereford bull
Rolling around on his back
Retiring into a pond
Atop the Shehy Mountains
The land in Spring, it is so fond
When in the creases of these hills
The emerging sun shines through the petals
Of those lovely daffodils
The Petal is a bud
That opens to a bloom
It blossoms with the Sun
On Summer afternoons
When Climate freezes Day
It’s easier for Men
To know why Petals wither
– Theirs to understand
But when Summer is at hand
And Noon upon the Day
Men can but exclaim
With unconcealed dismay
When the blooming flower
Folds and fades away
But for Frost within the root
And Chill within the stem
– These cannot be ascertained
By Petal or by Man
Inspiration is something
That can be hard to sought.
But motivation it shall bring
When it is caught in thought.
Endless sources of it there
To broaden up your mind.
They are out there everywhere
Waiting for you to find.
Mindset is a primary factor...
Is yours willing to
Be open and play the extractor?
This is up to you.
What you know plays special forces
On this battlefield.
Imagination in its courses...
Make it unconcealed.
What are you into? What moves you?
What is it you desire?
Anything certain proves to
Be something to inspire.
People leading by example...
Places you have been.
Objects plentiful and ample...
All that you have seen.
Experience can play a role
And also what you learn.
Progressing towards a goal
As well as what you yearn.
These are just to name a few
Sources which do exist.
Everything comes down to you
And your will to persist.
Dandelion little bud soon will have a golden crown,
taller this is bound to grow
upwards, skywards to our sun,
now ripened with blossom wide, unconcealed, too bold to hide,
until the time is right to leave...
though death is a mere bluff,
evolving to a special stage transforming to fine fluff!
Put Youself In Their Shoes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Placed 1st
______________________________________________________
It was late August, during summer break,
We went to our grandma’s village called Snake.
She had a small house beside a big lake;
She was known to people as Mrs. Blake.
She liked to live in the village alone;
There she loved to live a life of her own.
In her little field, corn seeds, she had sown;
That time to its full size the crop had grown.
Around the field, there was a mountain range…
There we went for harvesting for a change,
Not expecting anything in exchange.
As we were novices the work looked strange!
We worked since morning till evening untired;
The art of harvesting we had acquired.
Our work in the fields everyone admired;
The children of the village got inspired.
After the work, we returned from the field;
People welcomed us with smiles unconcealed.
And honored us by giving us a shield;
To them our whereabouts grandma revealed.
Picture: 3
Date of posting the poem: 8/16/2023
"All a man really wants, is a girl who looks good in a bikini." - Jack Freestone
Hot white sand sticks,
tingles the salacious sense
of beach-braced feeling,
clad in skimpy bikini.
Out of the blue the golden sun gilds
the skin unconcealed,
lubricious assets fix attention focus,
the imagination latitude narrows.
The construct of the consummate mind,
the unsculpted bikini body beguiles.
Corn is harvested and hay neatly bailed
Indian summer hovers over field
Wind frolicker dived smoothly then impaled
Unwary creature who was unconcealed.
Small bird of prey with beautiful feathers
Keen-eyed Kestrel looking for easy prey
Golden autumn simmers perfect weather
Mammals scatter in rush to get away
Kestrel is focused gliding back and forth
Harvested field's microcosm of zest
Onlooker gripped by sadness and remorse
But Nature as always ever knows best.
Kestrel is formidable bird of prey
Wind frolickers will always 'seize the day'.
'K' Words
Poetry Contest
Chosen Word: Kestrel
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
10/03/2023
Pixabay Image by: VanZonneveld
O Melancholy, my home-alone friend,
with Indolence conspiring to mark time,
with best intentions, and thoughts unpenned,
and faded vision, as the perfect rhyme,
so almost, so not quite, so very close,
distracted by my wastrel amigos.
If I could somehow loosen ties that bind,
and hold me in such unrelenting thrall,
if I the secret antidote could find,
to let me hear again the muse’s call,
my mind, now free, a-roving, unconcealed,
my deepest unsung thoughts in verse revealed.
Unending sojourn, inspiration sought,
and sometimes unexpectedly upturned.
When with the souls of poets we have walked,
their intimations shared, insights discerned,
if we, as in a dream, a trance adopt,
we too may tread their lofty mountaintop.
Spare me the agonizing of disaffected trolls
Who find nothing of substance worthy of note,
Desperately seeking a modicum of control
Their unconcealed nastiness a matter of rote.
Have they nothing better to do with their time
Than to criticize the successes of legitimate poets
Who, themselves, have difficulty making a rhyme,
But coming up with a dig, they promptly throw it.
Let’s preserve Poetry Soup from this pitiful type
Who comes here only to stir and create turmoil,
Making sure not to give them impetus or hype
In another place may they find more welcome soil.
Doing all we can to maintain peace and goodwill
Let’s keep Poetry Soup free of fractious voices,
Being careful not to engage in avoidable overkill,
But never failing to silence disconcerting noises.
Written May 17, 2022
Underwear so varied
Unpublished, well, not now
Unconcealed, all can view
Uncovered, unashamed
Unblushing for the world
Unfurled, unblocked designs
Unchaste attitude girls
And boys/men
Online syllable counter
1Underwear so varied 6
2Unpublished, well, not now 6
3Unconcealed, all can view 6
4Uncovered, unashamed 6
5Unblushing for the world 6
6Unfurled, unblocked designs 6
7Unchaste attitude girls 6
Contest: Pleiades U
Date: 04/30/2021
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
Of PAN and MAN
Beyond the hedgerow bright with bloom of May
Our daily lives move on with purpose strong
From where the thrush and warbler sing the day
Soft hum of traffic, plays a different song
The tawny herd lies sleepy-eyed in sun
On lush green mead oblivious to where
The cars, the trucks and buses onward run
With each disposed by one of nature’s heirs
Along the roadside verges, now revealed
In rainbow hues, wild flowers exquisite face
Uncaring road’s dismissal unconcealed
Though passers glance admiring of their grace
To count less the works of man than of Pan, some are fain
Let us bless them all and embrace as our whole domain
Whenever I look up to the heavens,
your smile and beauty is all I can see.
I guess I will never quite understand,
just what in the world that you see in me.
Somehow you just seem to keep me guessing,
and always coming back and wanting more.
I do know that I have never quite felt,
anything even close, to this before.
I promise that I will always love you,
a little more each and every day.
With all of the passion that we have shared,
I know our blue skies will never turn gray.
My heart was broken and left unconcealed,
because of you my love, it now is healed.
full of emotion
pulsating
brooding
heaving
parsed
by desire
with
feelings
of the heart
a
voyage
of discovery
poignant
aglow
audacious
&
breathless
an intuitive
tableaux
with
gestures
explicit
&
visible
flooding
the moment
overflowing
frantic
!onging to
give
floating
in uncharted
seas
to a love
afire
...
to
savour
sensuous
burning
with fiery
passion
a consuming
flame
driven to despair
all
peace of mind
no more
wounded
deeply tortured
without
the semblance
of reality
mediocrity
a silent shadow
on
circumstance
suddenly
hope
in a sense of beauty
unforced earnestness
conceived
a state
of fermentation
vivacious
&
exciting
what bliss
what delight
free
unconcealed
to know love
&
stand amazed
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.