Unmixed Poems | Examples

God Only Knows

Brian died
taking
part of me
with him

The part
that he
lent me
in 1966

Brian died
and the
colors
diminished

The notes
out of rhythm
and time
— left unmixed

(Pet Sounds-Ocean City N.J.: July, 1966)

You Are The Messiah

Like blood in flesh, with your disciples, you were united.
In your union, as though on cloud nine, they felt delighted.
Heart and mind were clear, yet were they in wisdom sure-sighted?
By your question, their cognizance, like fuels, got ignited.

Didn't you, as the Almighty, know the thoughts of each mind?
Didn't they, more than a monarch, supreme strength in you find?
Wasn't, in you, the meaning of their existence defined?
Didn't they know that before you, even fate stood resigned?

Like a pure fragrance, their unmixed thoughts of you were expressed.
As Elijah, Baptist, and prophets, your name they addressed
In you, they knew that, as an atom, each name was enmeshed.
You knew you were Christ. Calling you so, Peter was blessed.

Yet, like a lamb, by getting slaughtered, you must save the world.
Hearing this, like leaves in a crude current, their hearts got whirled.

Natural splendor

Written: January 23, 2024
                   _____________________________________

Behold tinsel atop snow-capped mountains, 
Where towering walls of gathered ice rise high. 
Celestial waves flow into boiling fountains, 
And flying, thawing spice fills the endless sky.

A vibrant tapestry unfolds as a kaleidoscope 
Blurs appear in a realm of multi-angle vision. 
The dawn is a genuine golden spectroscope.
Embracing every region, invoking raw allusion.

Sunset beams ignite the top with Eurasian light, 
Dying blooms at azure are a welcoming night. 
Moon, stars, and aurora borealis waltz with hope, 
Velvety, dome akin to sky covers forthcoming scope.

In spring, clay and snow mix to create fresh birth, 
Lava flora and ice fruits grow greater than on Earth. 
An occult quiet creeps over this view and is fixed, 
All this awe is an ode to one true Creator, unmixed.

OPEN VERSE NO 26

STYLISATION
 natural
myriad
  scintillating
feeding
   fluidity in
exemplified
  opportunities
detected
  exuberant
& ominous
 empathy
Of
 imaginative
 dedicated
&exclusive
 opportunities
 of finished
d facets
MANNERS
direct
peculiarities
unrestrained
in joie
 de vivre
attain
  clarity
 closely
modelled
  on radical
orientation
of
unmixed colour
in
synthetics themes
closely composed
yet?
  sketchily
 suggested
by
inspired motifs
 & etchings
in
 corrective considerations
of multifarious
 impressions
of
continuing
& intensifying

Beyond the Silence of Summer's End

How splendorous is your arrival, dear autumn!
How bright like the very gold and diamond mixed! 
What, exactly, is in your little heart's bottom?
The physique and psyche of the summer are fixed...!

As a groom escorted by his boys and girls adorned,
As the interiors of a shrine are well set;
Sun's peak climbing, as though gradually got scorned,
Which blade of grass, so far, is florally fit, yet...?

O summer, in India, you play great havoc,
We bear with you, yet, thinking of other seasons;
You have your reasons to be silent and gravic,
Could you, dear Summer, shake hands with unmixed reasons...?

Does your silence knock at my heart, my dear summer?
Kindly visit me tomorrow, I'm your drummer...!!!

Crucifixion of Jesus of Sabaoth

By your red scars you crucified the moving stars
By your thorns you crucified the entire world
By your dolour you crucified the world-ruler

Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”

Through your bloodiness you destroyed our drunkenness
Through your painfulness you restored all the fullness
Through your blood drainage you became unmixed knowledge

Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”

You were nailed on a crucifix to heal the sick
You were nailed on a cross to retrieve what was lost
You were nailed on a tree for all to see

Jesus cried loudly “Why have you forsaken me”

Through elevation you cured the sin of wisdom
Through rising to the blue you caught and killed the brute
Through elevation you went into fruition 

Christ at the near end calmly said “It is finished”

Unity In Diversity

Flowers are wheat 
Flour is draught 
Unmixed it flies 
Mixed it builds up 
Bread for its eaters 
Two hands divide 
Unity in diversity 

© John Chinaka Onyeche

Stillborn

Raw 
Intelligence…
Like dry 
Cement
Sitting unmixed
Never used
To make 
Anything 
Real

Raw 
Intelligence…
A flashing
Neon light
To its own 
Potential
Bulbs
Burning out
One at a time

Raw
Intelligence…
Its shadows
Forever littered
Along a
Lost and 
Forgotten
Past tense
Alleyway

Raw
Intelligence…
Like shards of
Glass
In the maelstrom
Reflecting a story
Of what 
Might
Have been

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Enduring Love

When but a child the world seems set in stone.
Too soon this cozy surety fades and dies;  
And verities, like passing clouds, are flown, 
Confusing right with wrong and truth with lies:

The ground’s no longer firm beneath our feet. 
What once was bedrock now is shifting sand,
While warring interests jostle and compete
And nothing seems to turn out as we planned.

Yet know, my love, that even though all life
May be uncertain, nothing else be fixed, 
Amidst confusion, doubtfulness, and strife
One thing is always pristine, pure, unmixed:

While much is inescapably unsure,
My love for you shall steadfastly endure.

First Acrotic

Dubem, without a doubt in me

Understanding the feminine

Because - there's no other me

Emotions, climbs-heart on nine

Must those dreams kill you?.

Ojukwu, you can feel desires

Juxtapose, oh! Our dear hearts

Unmixed feelings or ires 

Kwanzas for you,from my arts

Would love to catch your crazies

Uptights within, crucifies frenzies.

The Pure Realm

There is a vast domain,
Grounded on a golden land;
There the immortals remain,
And those who in holiness stand.

Once I reminisce on the pure realm
Beyond the shadows peep
Where beings in white apparel swiftly touch
My sovereign bids me to natter
Of how mortal there must occupy
In eternal bliss
Where the mighty one is eternally pleased
Not a taste of this ground is felt
Nor the chattels of this home can compare
The lanes are of choice treasure
The trees fairer than cedars of Lebanon
And of the river, as crystal, not like Jordan
Yet unmixed, while that of Euphrates is less
Every flower is arrayed gorgeously
And they sing melodies, not upon ten strings
But upon angelic inspiration, of harps
Made without hands
Time has no power there, nor can cause—
Oldness or baldness
There are no unequal roads of life
For goodness remains a seal,
The vast domain speaks plenitude
For the plenum from all race
The sun and the moon are not at their posts
And upon the brightness, its source is not from them
At instances when I feel the heat
Of this accommodating hut
Then I reminisce on the pure realm.

The Leavening

I read it so, the Bread of Life
without discourse, without contrive
did lighten, nourish, so arrive
that building up, to merit, live ~

That in my lines
I found your strife
did so surround with beauties hive
that honey of discourse revive!

This leavening of love's requiet,
that injured particle, that pride,
that unaccomplished effort's stride
that unforgiven song's abide!

That haste, that entry unrelied
were all a Godly plan, not tried,
that love unsettled so applied,
unmixed, unsettled faith ~ no bride!

Is love, thus meddled with denied,
pourous regrets hidden and shied,
how puffed up, spoiling shape's decried
this fatness trail, unholy mile!

Be waiting, like a homeless child
so love relinquished dies servile ~
to thee I give, last frenzied mile,
wherein thee walk, wherein thee . . . . smile!

My Balloon

I love my balloon
My big balloon
My blue balloon
My ball balloon.

How playful it is
Without it something I miss
The joy, the gaiety
The buoyancy and elasticity.

The spur of celebration
The moment of glorification
Of excitement and passion
Relieved me from the tensions

My burlesque balloon
My bright balloon
My brisk balloon
My brilliant balloon

The balloon flew up into the air,
Songs of festivity in their full blare
It is in itself the joy, cheer and pleasure
Unmixed by the sorrow or materialistic treasure.

Accommodation of Desire

I broke the dozen eggs 
I bought a few weeks ago. 
Only two of them are badly reddish. 
My eyes are fixed on the good ones. 
I forget to turn the stove on 
As Eileen's face appeared 
From the back side of my brain. 
I sit there glancing at 
The unmixed eggs; 
Thinking... 
Why are the reddish eggs 
Considered bad?

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