The power of God.' Breaks forth unguessed in surprising all
He is always at His best..As a spring appears in desert wastes
So instrutcion and prophesy fill a space.' A mouth a screen?
A song line or more..The artist even unconsciously is a door.' The window closes..That door gets shut.' through many
Transposes on lifes often dimly lit road, there is such interaction many glimpses are showed.' Yet where are
The teachers? The prophets, or the wise.? They are staying
Dumb and silent.' Are they blinded by lies.? Where there
Should be enquiriy at the feet of the Lord.' There is false
Knowledge and thesis that are wholly of 'this world.' No
Growth is expected.? As war and pestilence hit.' As many teachers teach drivel..Thats the whole.. And true sum; of it '
Categories:
unguessed, bible, education,
Form: Rhyme
In the city of silence, shadows dance slowly,
The garden of forgetfulness hides a secret lowly,
Dreams are born in minds that no longer believe,
People pass by, lost in thoughts that deceive.
Tolerance is the virtue of those without faith,
But how to believe when all fades to wraith?
On the pathways of conscience, I tread with care,
Deciphering voices lost in shadow's lair.
It's not the evils named evil we dispute,
But the forgivable ones, we often refute.
The world's a stage, playing roles unguessed,
Lines spoken without feeling, unconfessed.
In the garden's melancholic magic, I find anew,
Another truth I often dream to pursue.
Whispers of wind carry memories of yore,
The living flame of hope that endures evermore.
In the stream of consciousness, I let myself drift,
Between dream and reality, in the rift,
Seeking the light lost in unspoken queries,
On the wings of thought, to faded answers and theories.
Categories:
unguessed, fantasy,
Form: Free verse
Right beside me lies my dog
Flight to dreamland, slumbers deep
Quite the racket, sawing logs
Slight, the chance she wakes from sleep
Eyes are closed, at peaceful rest
Sighs at visions yet unguessed
Rising, falling of her chest
Guys, let’s face it: I am blessed
Categories:
unguessed, dog, dream, sleep,
Form: Lento
I. DEFIANCE
Fie!
Must I
Explain why
I’m moved to sigh
Whenever I try
To contradict the lie
With which some people imply
That it’s wrong for me to defy
Those people or things I must decry?
II. CONFORMITY
They
Who may
Choose to play
By the rules stay
On track and obey
Them and try not to stray
From the path; they will repay
Their debts, make sure that what they say
Is the truth, and do their best each day.
III. HILARITY
Lest
Unguessed
Or finessed,
It must be stressed
I find I’m impressed
That you are so obsessed
With making a joke or jest
In which no trope would be repressed
And irony is deployed with zest
Written for, and "Defiance" submitted to, Charles Messina's Rhyming Nonet Contest
Categories:
unguessed, anger, humor,
Form: Nonet
Deep in the woods of central Maine,
Schoodic Lake lies placid and pristine,
Its limpid, pure waters lapping against
Shores of boulders crowned with cedars,
Whose grey, writhen trunks and roots,
Clinging doggedly to the lichen-streaked stone,
Resist the winds from off the lake,
Resist the blizzards of countless deep winters,
Resist the inescapable ravages of time.
The waters of the lake are cold and clear—
As if newly born of distant melting glaciers,
Or gushing up from unseen springs, far beneath.
They say the lake is bottomless--
Its serene surface an expressionless face,
Beneath which tempests, passions unguessed,
Might bubble, and froth, and rage,
Before at last sinking out of our ken.
The lake, mirrorlike, reflects the tree-girt skies,
Rippling gently, and seems at peace:
But who can know what that visage hides,
Where, far below, those umplumbed depths
Conceal mysteries -- profound, immemorial,
Unknown, and ultimately-- unknowable.
April 4, 2019
Categories:
unguessed, mystery,
Form: Free verse
I found this hand written poem in an old book on the back of an unfilled out Galesburg High School enrollment card. The name Harvey Kemp is written at the end of this short poem.
I found this poem touching and thought to share it. I haven't been able to locate the poem or poet on search engines after a half hour search. If anyone has info plz send.
Thanks
Blind
The spring blew trumpets of colors;
Her green sang in my brain.
I heard a blind man groping
"Tap-tap" with his cane.
I pitied him his blindness,
But can I boast "I see"?
Perhaps there walks a spirit
Close by, who pities me,
A spirit who hears me tapping
The fine-sensed cane of mind
Amid such unguessed glories
That I am more than blind
Harvey Kemp
above rendition is exactly as written.
Categories:
unguessed,
Form: Rhyme