Unobtrusive Poems | Examples

Veranillo de Membrillo

(Spanish people find September to be very sad:
they call it "the little summer of the quince".)

Somehow, the silver birches simply know.
This splendid heaven, pure refulgent blue
can not abide.  The grass fronds, stiff as glue,
like swifts and grillos, uninclined to go,
are troubled by the carking of the crow.                                                                           
It’s autumn, and the rains are overdue.
A corpse whose hair improvidently grew,
September is deceptive afterglow.
At dusk, a silence falls across the close:
the trees stand tall and motionless, morose:
now unobtrusive, heretofore verbose:
tart evergreens like laurel, tamarind,
immortal olives, silver in the wind,
sing “adios verano, adios!”

Finding Myself

All day
I have been 
searching
for myself.
And there I was,
unobtrusive,
watching on,
keeping quiet
under a loud
chatter of thoughts.
I quite often
get lost.

Before You Were Born

There must be 
an entry point
somewhere in the fabric 
of being, perhaps 
an unhealed 
wound in the bark 
of an ancient tree 
deep in a primordial 
forest or gouged 
in the cliff face
of a remote shoreline 
where southern ocean 
gales pound the continent, 
or somewhere quiet, 
unobtrusive, hidden 
from view in a corner 
of the self where it has 
been all your life. 

You feel its cool breath
blow across your face
much like when a slight 
breeze comes out 
of a cave when standing
near its mouth.
There are days now
when you are there
near its gape
when a weariness 
takes hold and you peer
into a dark nothingness
at the very centre 
of yourself, see it begin
to slowly dissolve
mind and form,
welcoming you back
to that place 
where you were 
before you were born.

There Once Lived a Man

I write because I need to
It's what I have to do
Put feelings down on paper
Thoughts I have towards you
It doesn't stop the longing 
That ever present ache
But it helps to write them down because
I know my love's not fake

And if somebody reads this
They'll know there lived a man
Who loved a pretty Bluebird
Who's middle name was Ann
Unshowy, unobtrusive 
In whisper, not in shout
But loved he did this Bluebird
Until his days ran out

Wooden Box

Wooden Box

In my deep deep wooden box I keep: in 
triumphant completion of 
something’s; depending on 
whethers; keyboards with 
buttons who don’t make notes audible to 
the human ear; descriptions and reports on 
equipment and clothing for 
a specific activity; a 
few arrogant diplomats; cutlery who aren’t 
consistent with or 
aren’t in harmony or 
aren’t unanimous with 
cutlery sets; pompous ducks who 
scribble notes concerning the annoying to 
them smell of 
chimney smoke not in an 
unobtrusive manner; and finally 
people who use the word 
“consequently” ad nauseam. However the box isn’t 
locked. They can come and 
go as they wish.

Inevitability

                                             I always feel the
                                                 stiff breeze in my heart.
                                       The rumbling ,rolling thunder
                                       growls in the overcast, vast,
                                           inky sky.
                                        The lily is asphyxiated
                                              by an utter,
                                         excruciating agony,
                                          it murmurs things
                                                   unsaid.
                                        It fills with pure,
                                           deeep-rooted fears,
                                        the verdict is unknown.
                                        Raindrops water my soul
                                               like an endless
                                           angst weaves into the
                                            unobtrusive path.

Indivisible

For years I’ve passed a sculpture
When I walk at break of day.
It’s very unobtrusive,
Likely meant to be that way.

It’s just one word carved out of wood
And tethered to a sign
Reminding people not to park
Or they’ll incur a fine.

The word is “indivisible”
And in the USA,
It’s front and center in the pledge
That schoolkids learn to say.

We’re meant to think our country
Is united and, with pride,
We pledge allegiance to the nation
Where we all reside.

But lately, we’re divided
Like an apple cut in two,
Each half belonging to a crowd
That’s cloaked in red or blue.

This week I found the sculpture gone
And I was not surprised;
Perhaps the artist figured out
His hope’s been compromised.

Discombobulation

Life has become an amorphous mass,
Sans shape, sans structure.
And my mind is in total discombobulation.
I feel I am like a scrap yard.
My world has lost its tint and throb.
Defeated and decimated,
I long for an about-turn,
To reach back from whence I started
To get out of this quagmire
To restore all that slipped through my fingers,
 In the tangled labyrinthine paths of life!

How I wish to curl unobtrusive,
Into the womb that bore me once,
To be reborn once more as my old self
To enjoy the peace and bliss, now alien!

As trees bared by the winter blasts,
Stay in wait for the spring to arrive,
I await a new life, fresh and new.
Before that, I must rip loose, 
And peel away the covert mask
Sticking tight to my concealed face
Though it may cause me to bleed.
Exhale the soot of hatred,
Polluting my larynx and lungs,

The time is up for me to leave the stage.
But before I make the final bow
I should fit into a new cast,
And become a man again!!

The Art of War

Man prefers the art of war

Than peace that's so elusive

Life goes on just like before

Death is so unobtrusive

Cardinal

Bright red flash against
the snow-filled trees,
the cardinal comes to rest
in a shower of white.
He trembles on a limb,
black eyes darting,
searching for something
to eat in the bleak landscape.
Nearby, his mate waits  
patiently, unobtrusive in
her somber browns.
He flits, one branch
to another, still for a minute.
Then he takes wing, 
and the streak of red
momentarily brightens 
the world of white.

Star Pupils

My love for you is hidden
Though well you know it's there
Right now a guest unbidden
But like surrounding air
Not visible through eyesight
Not tangible to touch
Yet present and most certain
Ubiquitous as such

And though no one can see it
There's a sign that gives away
Its existence unobtrusive 
For just you it will display
Come close now, look into my eyes
There's shapes my love imparts
They only form there when you look 
My pupils turn to hearts

Live Music Scene

Standing right behind you
Outside I'm playing cool
Inside desire's mounting
Self control's the rule

If I could I'd kiss you
Your lips in full receipt
My hands around your waist
One moving with the beat

You dazzle and delight me
You make my knees grow weak
Just your very presence 
Stops my skill to speak

Pretending not to notice
I heard you sing the songs
While swaying to the rhythm
For you all of me longs

Your ways are unobtrusive
So subtle yet they're there
Incredibly attractive
No fuss and no fanfare

But how I sense your passion!
I'd love to be the one
To see it in full fashion 
I'll sleep when we are done

Just For You

Smell of rain after a storm
With lightning, thunder, summer's warm
Water drops from skies above
Bathing all the earth thereof
And when the sun breaks through the cloud
The rays are quiet, never loud
Just like the thoughts I have for you
Silent, unobtrusive, true

Now please don't think that I'm obsessed
I just have time at my behest
And what I do with it is write
And play and plan the coming night
Where I will dream, I know I will
Of bluebirds, lilacs, from the quill
Of pens and pencils that I own
Next day flow words knitted and sewn

Into the shapes of letters and notes
Of music that itself emotes
The songs inside that must come out
Expression's what they're all about
I share them with you since I know
You like to read them all, and so
As long as you would want them to
My pen and pencil write for you

Love In Rhyme

Poems, poems, poems
They're what I love to do
The way that I express myself
To tell you I love you

They come to me so easy 
I have so much to say
And when my heart's on fire
I write three and four a day

Each one a separate heartbeat
A loving, sincere kiss 
From my lips out to your heart
A target I won't miss

I love you with a passion
That flows inside my veins
Controlled and unobtrusive 
There's no torrential rain

Could ever quench this fire
Its trend is grow and thrive
Maybe someday there'll be no need for words
Then watch these poems come alive

Alone In the Crowd

amid scurrying feet, 
in the whirling humanity,
with divided aims, 
and sizzling brains,
she paused with singularity of purpose.


never in a hurry, more at peace,
on a park bench, alone,
bent and weird, she sat.
when she moved, 
 her bones creaked,
on rusty hinges!


ragged in dress, torn in body, 
face scourged by Time,
its contours deep like ravines.
her withered breasts,
hanging like nests of tailor birds.
hair lying disheveled,
with eyes shrouded in mist,
she looked out into the sinking sun,
never dreading the darkness that falls. 


the park bench was her temporary halt.


she sat there every evening
determined to live on,
with the coins habitually dropped, 
into her outstretched hands,
by those sailing past her,
unobtrusive self.


like a monument of patience
she sat.
sat, so alone!

~ First Place Trophy Win~

Dec.16.2022
Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest. No.55

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