Unsold Poems | Examples

Click, Clap, Ego Inflation

Click, Clap, Ego Inflation

They sit behind the veil of screen
thinking cheating is a site unseen
each clap a cheer that was never earned
everyone laughs, for the spotlight is on
shining light on the fraudsters pen
vain deceit
ghostly stats floating in silent scorn
their own applause, no one cares
what is a Baker
if your bread is  stale and unsold
your store is empty
a hollow soul
cheaters cheat, they never glow

Feeling catish this morning, surrounded by Zio lies and cheating is easier for me to see when happens elsewhere too, peace be upon you.

The Shepherd

The staff of my Father enjoining the past
futurity’s herding a bleating morass 
The bloodline of orphans forever is linked 
tattooing the flock with invisible ink
The first time the last time when nearing the end
tomorrow’s ungifted excuses portend
And times better nature is better untimed
 beginning and ending forever conjoined
Eternity’s fenceposts hem in with disdain
all future inclemency fire and rain
But just as that last final sheep stays unsold
— my Father returns to re-shepherd the fold

(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)

Love Glimmer -

I've been listening to your eyes 
for what feels like eons,
noticing how the rain cries
unto your purposeful lips,
excited also, by the sounds of your
beautiful breaths in the smooth sunlight,

Tapping the pool of love blood,
rippling rose restless
to the edge of a frozen bloom
where the youth of our love wonder stood,
speaking to one another through playful madness,
tempting tragedy to resume
so to confess innocence in the fire flood
of the raw poetry pulsing in divine mood,

I find you in the fragrance of warm faith 
and your eyes sing of sorrow unsold to sin,
palmprints upon our hearts bespeak a dangerous heat 
that says love born of longing will never be safe,
for a moment we rue what's true about heartbeats lonely and thin,
You pull me within a hue of genius and clue of spirit discrete 
revealing a teaching of soul engineering 
where the meaning of living
is loving the bleeding
of pure beauty fleeting  -

J.A.B.  02-19-2025

More Black Out Poetry

In the velvet hush of evening’s fall,
Where shadows weave a gentle thrall,
The whispers rise, a sacred call,
From hearts that wear the night like shawl.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver veil,
Their voices strong, their spirits frail,
Yet through the dark, they will prevail,
Their truth, a quiet, mournful wail.

In every line, the pain takes flight,
A dance of words through endless night,
They pen the wrongs, the desperate plight,
Yet find in dark, a spark of light.

The stars above, a thousand eyes,
Bear witness to the tears, the cries,
But still, their songs of hope arise,
A testament that never dies.

For in the ink, both black and bold,
Are stories that are seldom told,
Of chains unbroken, dreams unsold,
A history of strength, controlled.

They sing of skies both vast and free,
Of oceans deep, an endless sea,
Where hearts and minds, though bound, might be
Released through blackened poetry.

And so, they write, through endless night,
Their words a beacon, burning bright,
In every verse, they claim their right,
To be, to live, to shine in light.

Blueprint for Devastation

They interviewed the artist 
inside of her large blueprint mansion.
At one point she criticized America 
for being overtly materialistic.
Her painting studio alone, was large enough to
house half a dozen desperados...
but instead, it harbored dozens of giant unsold paintings.
I was amazed by how bright a person could be
but at the same time completely blind to their own 
devastating hypocrisy.

SHEEPSHAPE

SHEEPSHAPE

If not a ram then a sheep is a ewe
White and woolly, docile it’s true

One of many, as part of a herd
Clustered together, as preferred

Various strains are kept and bred
Unless taken for mutton instead

But there are several sheep breeds
Enough to fulfil lamb eaters’ needs

Sheep so unwanted in the wild west
They ate grass that made beef best

But lambs are cutest, as we know
Gamboling around, white as snow

So cuddly, and quite nice to hold
But not so much when they’re old

Wool is a raw material for clothes
Soft and fluffy as everyone knows

But wool can be spun into big balls
Remaining unsold until knitting calls

In Greece, sheep’s milk fares better
As there it is used for making Feta

One can even hear sheep from afar
But not so loud as to raise the baa

Sleeping Well

Boldly I exhume exclusion, a badge of sacrifice
Milestones shunned, money’s usual manoeuvre 
Cultural flimsy stronghold, servant’s fiscal price
Top tier requires slaves toil all day for approval


Nonetheless, pleasingly, I hail our lucky country 
Offers safety, anonymity, hovel unacknowledged 
No need to solidify alliances, desperately hungry
Primed pilferers for immediate advantage pillage


Supplementing streetscapes bolster unsold soles
Trove tumbledryer drums cook my new costume 
Accesses babyboomer tower, to fire escape stole
Secure deep sleep from moonless cement room





                   Adverse to version of 
               us who refuse to assimilate 


                 A new season  - Winter 
                       Begins today

A Rift Zone

*Neighboring Mauna Kea has been sleeping for centuries, but notice the red flows popping and flowing in the gray areas below Mauna Loa's actual summit. Those are rift zones that pave through gray areas untouched, then pop out further downhill wiping out whole communities. BEWARE OF RIFT ZONE--which has been ongoing now.

Mauna Loa created Kilauea Iki, Pu'u O'o, Halemaumau, and Loihi Seamount (the underwater volcano).

*Image of The Big Island Rift Zones by UHH

A Rift Zone

Our fatigued town of Hilo by the bay,
woke late Sunday and watched black turn to gold.
Midnight's oil peters ere dawn the next day,
seen three lava streamed, some people unsold.

Volcanologists call it, a rift zone,
where red skies mock as magma glows on top
while forcing lava tubes neath, treks unknown.
O'er a hundred quakes daily, stresses swap.

Slams of earth's crust formed Everest's complete,
Mauna Loa was churned out from the ground up.
Twenty-nine faced thirty-three thousand feet,
shows this volcano's peaks, win the gold cup.

Confidence of sight, conscious bets clearly,
ignorants deal with escape plans dearly.

2022 December 01

As Sowed So We Reap

Like you I get old,
Like you equal water hold,
I’m like you at core,
All vegetables here sold,
It’s just that I get tired more 

And so, need to sleep,
We both date with death must keep,
You shrivelled, unsold,
I hungry when and too old, 
As sowed so we reap. 
___________________________ 
Tanka |28.08.2021|

Each Memory

The shape of my spirit,
the weight of my soul

To measure the longing
of wishes unsold

Tomorrow the color
of yesterday’s stain

The taste of each memory 
—this moment retains

(University Of Pennsylvania: February, 2021)

Lifes Mysteries

L-  Lavish gifts, I recall from Jesus’ birth:
I – Inre - the frankincense, the myrrh, the gold.
F-  Focusing on cost should not count for worth
E – Even if certain “wants” remain unsold.  
S – Some folks who give, of course, have other views.

M – Many exchange because exchange is due. 
Y – Your presents can evoke amazement’s muse; 
S – Surprise someone who doesn’t give to you.
T – Try giving undercover – say, a toy
E – Encourage children with a secret gift. 
R – Riddles without answers bring givers joy.
I –  Invite outsiders over, snub your thrift.
E – Enigma: aim to give yourself away;
S - Spend time with those who need you every day.

An Election

How did we fall this low and sink – 
To depths men go that cannot think.
And pluck a weed while flowers grow,
In hope our needs his heart will know.
Although he stumbles at the brink – 

Where words don’t come. And when they do –
Those herds that follow find they rue.
To hear a mashed unmindful song –
Draws fear of one who’s sung too long.
Wrong notes, no theme, with pitch untrue. 
                         .   .   .
We feast press praise from morn ‘til night;
At least there’s one for us, they write.
The fight’s for change, and change we must;
Before night’s old, let’s go for bust.
Don’t stand unsold, it might be tight!
                         .   .   .
But should we yield sweet talk the ground?
Or could ideas be more than sound.
Don’t shed those tears; there is a choice.
If we can bear yet more that voice
A future’s there and can be found.

Many Unreadf Books

Many books unread

So many unsold books I have
the books are in the packaging I don’t care to open them
it is my books, and I have read them.
Same old stuff, poetry and vignettes with a few opinions
about Israel and Jews, not fashionable blaming the Jews
for the indignity, the Palestinians suffer.
The inhabitants of Israel are innocent as the Germans who
lived near concentration camps claimed.
We didn’t believe them, and few will accept the Israeli
when the day of reckoning beckons.
Strangely enough, I feel sorry also for the Israeli their
sport is to shooting the Gaza youth in the legs and by
their brutality loses their moral fibre and sinks into abject
the poverty of cognizance.

The Moonlight Fades From Flower and Rose

*Image of Orange Rose Watered Down by Giphy.


The Moonlight Fades From Flower And Rose


The moonlight fades from flower and rose,
A treasure laid forgotten, unfold,
Tis said chaptered verses that are prose,
In a limbered respite be unsold,
Tossed aside to advance ways for those,
Mystic stories cast oft in a hold,
Moments given are moments that goes,
Time is the essence ever behold,
That scent of rose, lingering yet grows,
Twilight's chariot sped into cold,
Ere some tasselling autumn e'er shows,
The redolent freshen oft so bold,
The aroma lifts and shares, who knows,
A refined world of the eve in gold,
A young star shines on a spray of rose.


2020 March 05
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND FORM
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 05

*HMS: 15 lines x 9 syllables per = 135

Fallen Angel

Silver lining,
 pouch of gold

Last remittance,
 past unsold

Blessing tendered,
pearl gateway plain 

Fallen Angel
—redemption claimed

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

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