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.
Categories:
unpenned, inspiration, poems,
Form: Rhyme
Organizing each word unpenned,
I gave myself to rhyme
And offered up my humble skills
in thankfulness sublime
Each one a treasure unto me,
with silence on the run
Verses promised and drifting near
—of memories to come
(The New Room: March, 2021)
Categories:
unpenned, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
Pegasus my white winged friend
Please come to me.
I need to feel the wind
On my face as in to the night we ascend
To where the moon illuminates the stars away
From the lights of men where one can be totally
Free.
Pegasus my white winged friend
This is liberty
To feel the wind
Unpenned
It is a luxury.
Pegasus my white winged friend
I have missed the times we used to spend
On our flying sprees.
Feel the wind.
Oh! No. It is time to descend.
Until the next time we both agree
Pegasus my white winged friend
I will always need to feel the wind.
Categories:
unpenned, adventure, beauty, education, fantasy,
Form: Villanelle
A furor surely was ignited
When somebody from United
Made a bad decision
With a most unpleasant end.
A carrier with dog inside
(The flight attendant notified)
Was placed with luggage which
The family couldn’t comprehend.
The overhead compartment where
Kokito languished had no air
And so he barked, expecting
That he soon would be unpenned.
The owners begged, to no avail.
Kokito’s cries did not prevail
And soon the family learned they’d lost
Their sweet and loyal friend.
United gets a new black eye
And not a soul should wonder why
Of all the airlines, this is one
I would not recommend.
Categories:
unpenned, death, dog, flying,
Form: Rhyme
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.
Categories:
unpenned, inspiration, poets,
Form: Rhyme
What at the least do I own
That I can proudly call mine:
My bountiful harvest of seeds sown,
Or the winepress of my vine?
A thousand sheep on a hill,
A thousand herds grazing there;
Not a one of them I own still,
Tho' the ownership I somehow bear.
A thousand chests of gold,
A thousand boxes of silver wares;
And all of them still, I behold,
Are temporarily under my cares.
A thousand lines unpenned,
A thousand notes to my name;
Yet all of them till the very end,
Are but a borrowed life and fame.
Categories:
unpenned, life,
Form: Quatrain
Blank pages hold the future,
Chapters, yet, unpenned.
Co-authors, God and I,
A masterpiece at hand.
Word by word, gently scripted,
A destiny unfolds.
Life's tapestry lovingly quilted,
A story soon to be told.
Blank canvass, tomorrow's history,
Awaiting brilliant strokes of inspiration.
An emblazoned collage of emotion erupt,
Imagination brings forth creation.
A bare garden sowed with seeds of love,
To a fragrant tomorrow give root.
Yet, to fully bloom in the warmth of the sun,
Life's storms must rain down on them too.
Life is but an art,
Sculptured by the heart.
As we are all beings molded of clay,
Solely because God chose to create.
Categories:
unpenned, art, inspirational, god, god,
Form: I do not know?
Blank pages hold the future,
Chapters, yet, unpenned.
Co-authors, God and I,
A masterpiece at hand.
Word by word, gently scripted,
As destiny unfolds.
Life's tapestry lovingly quilted,
A story soon to be told.
Blank canvass, tomorrow's history,
Awaiting brilliant strokes of inspiration!
An emblazoned collage of emotion erupt,
Imagination brings forth creation.
A bare garden sowed with seeds of love,
To a fragrant tomorrow give root.
Yet, to fully bloom in the warmth of the sun,
Life's storms must rain down on it too.
Life is but a work of art,
Sculptured by the artist's heart.
As we are beings molded of clay,
Because God chose to create.
Categories:
unpenned, imagination, inspirational, god, god,
Form: I do not know?