Unmapped Poems | Examples

Muse

In the mirror I see, framed like a painting
a woman caught between 
the plain in yesterday
and the pointy yellow leaves
leaving for tomorrow—
She chases the leaves, not realizing
she never left the field

When sparrows stop chirping
and her steps can no longer keep up
the leaves she caught remind her:
this tale only ends
in the aftermath of a birdsong

She's the passerby you see and forget;
She's the milk in your fridge silently going bad—
She's the soul you don't read,
the smile you can't catch,
the sunset by an unmapped coastline.

Mindscapes

A deep pit with a crumbling edge.
Far below,
is a muddy pool swarming with crocodilians.
There is someone with me, a boy.
I shouldn't have taken the child here.

I am slipping, taking him with me,
he won't let go of my hand.

We are sliding on pebbly scree.
A gun drags at my hip,
its weight pulls us down
to where green-scaled
and armored reptiles
thrash in a melee.

One mindscape devolves into another.
I’m a visitor to strange
and as yet unmapped streets.
I've lost my parked car
somewhere between many unfamiliar
city blocks.

Home is a door in the back of my mind,
I suspect that behind it
is a child who knows the way back.

A small boy appears,
he is holding a tin wind-up crocodile,
one his dad once bought him.

At his side a long-barreled revolver,
the same type of weapon
I purchased in Florida
in the event of an alligator attack.

Edges of a Dream

The quiet peace where webs of sleep enrapture,
in twilight thought - the precipice of dreaming.
It's there, the unmapped thresholds of conception
begin to splay within a sultry slumber
the embryos of covert premonitions...

The Musty Halls of Our Endeavors

Open the clasped and ancient doors!
There are mountains of footage
to peruse.
Thousands of long years to sift through.
Who did what or who did nothing
are of great import - apparently.

Who was that fellow
and why did we follow?
That despot killer
where was his karma?
We must seek clues in the dust of ages.

Pages must be read and scrutinized.
Order and reason sought
for we are nothing
without a history that teaches us.

Yet, here there are just trackless words,
statements, records,
testament's from blind witnesses
and towers of hearsay.

How to proceed?
Should we file away the sane
and burn the insane
or will the sane in the end
drive us into insanity?

Somewhere at the very bottom
of a mute pile
wise men have been muffled
have dried-up under layers of faded ink.

Dig on must we?
Or should we close those rotted doors
and walk away on new bought shoes
recording only our steps
leaving no signs on unmapped paths?

Terra Incognita

Terra Incognita 

Hidden!
Uncharted eternity birthing
Roiling! 
In a slow dance
The pregnant pause of terra’s faults
 Breaks o p e n 
   In slip strikes
Earth’s fiery magma
Spit back into the hands of Heaven’s potter
Churning!
 Moody
  Mercurial
   Footprint on the landscape’s soul
Journey to epiphany and nature’s improvisation
 New land birthed
  Uncharted steamy islands
The territory of infinity’s face revealed
 Spouting from the abyss of oblivion
Amorphous!
 Shapeless
  Nameless
    Anonymous 
Ambivalent explosions of molten earth
 Unmapped anticipation
  For future nomad’s unquenchable quests. 

8-29-22
Contest:  This or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen Terra Incognita

11-14-22
Contest: Mile 20 Poetry Marathon
Sponsor: Mark Toney
25 Lines

Terra Incognita

"Life is either daring adventure or nothing at all." 

                                                 Quote by _Helen Keller 

I would like to be an adventurer,
     and set sail for places terra incognita;
still uncharted, unknown, undiscovered on earth,
          in remote corners of the world !

It would be amazing to find places,
     and be the first to walk the land;
areas untouched, mysterious, maybe forbidden,
          perhaps an unmapped lost city !

Be the first to roam a forest jungle,
     wild, quite strange and dangerous;
unexplored until my discovery or so I believe,
          oh, to find a paradise pristine !

_____________________
August 07, 2022


Poetry/Verse/Terra Incognita
Copyright Protected, ID 08-147-562-07
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France

Theme chosen - Terra Incognita

Written for the Standard contest, This or That, Vol. 13
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Judged 09/04/2022

Third Place

For Oscar On His 10th Birthday

Child of sun and sky, child of isle and sea,
  the moon and stars to light my earthly trail -
his the taken road, the unmapped journey,
  his the unwritten Oscarian tale!
When beyond mortal youth this world you quest
  leave behind unworldly comprehensions -
seek it wide, seek it wise, and seek it blest
  and beseech its higher interventions.
Long may the Muses sing when your heart sighs,
  true your lyre echo, your mighty bow draw -
estrange yourself from the Gods in disguise
  and believe in you and all you care for.
When the blast of heavenly trumpets come
yours eternal will be a new kingdom.


              Written: March 2010


     Pic above: Oscar at 4 or 5 years old.

My Witness

Got into that a mirage
Unmapped in all its grounds
Where no lifeline could exist
Cautious distrust kicking in
An area where sorrows spread
That the beings had spoonfed
A stipulation of a well-crafted hat
Intruding two thirds of real hope
In that frame of mind pinpointed.

Walked through such a path
Paved long enough to the unseen end
Beautiful flowers emerging from sides
Just strongly pouring attractive odours
The fragrances to be sold at no price
That anyone would like to pass through
An amusement of natural adorable sprays
Leaving some marks to get questioned
By the look it expresses over the context.

Seek beyond the best feasible option
Uncharted below infinite water flows
To what the superiors would believe
Self opinions triggering mass faith
A sense to be named as uncommon
That no light ray felt to beam
A true meaning of being fake
Crashing all the Joules by others
To this little significant dot.

The Pearl In My Hand

Sailing in a ship,
To the round trip, 
With a pearl in my hand, 
Leaving behind the sand,
Looking at the prussian blues, 
Lead taken by the airs,
Watching the salty drift,
Needle-less compass in my fist, 
Unmapped of the destination,
Sun starts spreading cerise reflection,
Glossy moon orders the darks, 
Crying beneath the shiny sparks, 
Fear of losing the pearl in my hand,
Stellar winds aware of that man,
Me craving for pure and supreme heartland, 
Reaching for giving you the pearl in my hand,
Wishing the pearl is forethought by you, 
Pacify with cuddles under the hue, 
Dispelling unhappiness from the pearl in your hand, 
Relieved by my auspice of my life-span.

Sharpest Peaks, Body But Half Decayed

Coldest mountains, sharpest peaks
Lonely, quiet there does lie
A better end it still seeks
Body under light blue sky

Its corpse has flown far and wide
Glassy eyes and foggy skin
Tumbling through river tide
None are there, no next of kin

The valley has mountain walls
Forever trapped, a ravine
So far down, echoing calls
None can hear his shadow scream

Water cold, it runs solid
Spirit wanders far away
Body kept almost flawless
Tired corpse is here to stay

Freezing water so no decay
Slowly comes the summer melt
Maggots gnaw his hope away
Hardened face begins to welt

Winters coming fast again
Who he was, none can tell
Here a hiker now and then
Body, now, just a symbol

Only few pay respects
Helping others escape his fate
Tourists, with different dialects
Though for him it’s much too late

Till this day the cold has trapped
Valley, his coffin he’s made
In a mountain, quite unmapped
A man, but only half decayed

Fire and Wind

A land of destruction 
With unmapped sense of direction 
Fire set with singular flames 
Powerful wind gone untamed 
Mother nature's worst possession

The Hinterland

Democracy devolves into tyranny, Plato cautioned.
Flooded by the frigid torrent of factionalism,
will we certify his prediction?

Blinded by the prevarication of public discourse.
Numbed by the inundation of disinformation.
Crippled by the conspiracy of doubt.
The real deep state festers in our cortex,
a place where the charlatans of fallacy 
invade,
a dwelling where terrorists of mind 
take control.

But the terrain before us is vast.
The dense forest and effulgent meadows ahead are unmapped,
musky, fructuous forest floor perfumes the breeze,
The scarlet skyline of the dewy untrodden beckons us. 
Abundant life is our rehearsal.
Can we honestly say we know for what?

Yet, such rapture is eloquent in our dreams.
Such reverie will arrest the parsing of our quintessence.
Our distortions are lifted when we are united
in communitarian struggle.


Published Online 4/2021: The Opiate Magazine
Also scheduled for print publication: summer, 2021

Fresh Feelings

My feelings well up from inside
Suppressed no more, this side
Every deed now with emotion
The balm of a healing lotion

Stuck no more in sterile talk
I am on the freedom walk 
Free from being trapped
Now in territory, unmapped

What do I now really feel?
Like a rewound movie reel
Like a volcano rumbling
Buried feelings now bubbling

Home

I lie here spooned against you in the dark, my arm draped across your softness, but I remember those lean and muscled days – do you remember mine? 
How is it now so many years past that vibrant heat of youth, when we made our promises and thought we knew, we only thought we knew . . .
 
We never guessed at what lay in store: those nights of desperate pleading. The worried dawns and stressed out days. 
And certainly not the anguish of betrayal or the loneliness inside that very thing that was meant to keep us company. 
 
But neither did we anticipate the sweetness of enduring, the compassion in forgiving the very humanity of what was once exalted and adored. 
The plinth and its burden (or the burden that was the plinth) long fallen and yet still precious. 
The perfection in acceptance of the imperfect.
 
What is here is entirely new; produced from tears and laughter; bitterness and joy. Something forged from the hard, hard work of making it work. 
It isn’t what we thought it would be and we are not who we once were, but I remember. 
And even in this unexpected unmapped and uncharted territory,
You still feel like home.

(c)
10/2016

The Wind To Know

Lost in the miles, lost in the smiles,
the road calls out my name

Throttle in hand, a beckoning land,
no two days then the same

Direction unmapped, my nose to attack,
what’s never been before

Fate rides ahead, making my bed
—the wind to know for sure

(Limon Colorado: August, 2019)

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