Unstated Poems

The Contract

A contract can be signed by pen
or, by two stranger’s eyes by chance
that fleeting catch, a knowing glance
across a room of girls and men
whose status remains unstated;
unrequested, this night, one night!
Only counted the eyes’ invite
that not needed be translated;
the rut restated for a fleet
into a rollercoaster ride
of emotions; without a guide
and therefore so, not so discreet.
A ruinous calamity
will ensue come next morning rise
when answering the where the whys;
price of one night's frivolity.

EXPRESSIONISM ekphrased

so
 inexpressible
so
 vivid 
 the uncontrolled
inner drive

this
    message 
beyond
   memory
the unstated 
void
   distilling 
the hidden 
essence of
our yesterday’s
 exhumed 
&
in today
       displayed

STYLISTA kirchner klimt modi

kitsch
              crowded
              streets
fast
flowing
         feathers
              
pointed
feet
         jagged

              distinctive

          yet    unique
something 
so inexpressible
a chord 
so vivid from an uncontrolled 
inner drive
beyond  memory
the unstated 
 distilling the hidden 
an essence 
of  yesterday’s
 buried in today
a symbol
 of
  love 
suggestive
yet
of time
immemorial

lost in
a moment
where time
does not
exist

One
with the other
alone
& yet..
  desire..
and need
together
 exist
contemplating
 a suave
astonishing
pastiche
  before
&
despite
either
in
   an
austere
 feeling
of
fine
beauty

Miscreant Leaders

Breaking ground, well trodden path,
boiling cauldron of troubles past.
Injecting theories, humanities veins,
cryptic messages to dispatch.
Puzzling pieces, testing fit,
exploit emotions, effects are best.
Impel the masses, blind ignorance,
dismiss dissenters from public view,
construct the stories, elected few.
Orchestrate, a mind control,
obedient throngs, the unstated goal.

Chronicle a Freed Verse

CHRONICLR
a romantic
  advance
insisted
 .discerned
catalogued
  unstated

an elegant
  treatise
formal
& artificial
intricately
   disposed
in
a natural
circumstance
partial
& uncertain
smooth
uniform
& unconstrained

Morning Coffee In Angie's Cafe

Warm air eases a pleasant drift
upon the morning over coffee 
and freshly baked bread, 
the far off sound
of the sea and birds bridging
distance to here in the soft
hum of Angie's Cafe. 

Everything seems to be served
within a lull, a cupped moment 
sipped slowly, unhurried
thoughts not moving beyond
the breathings 
of an espresso machine,
the muted chatter of plates
and outside, the blessings
of a bright sun. The unstated
presence of a visiting joy.

How to explain something
so simple yet falling away
into such exquisite depth, 
then hastening the moment's 
passing by trying to hold on
as embracing lovers do 
when time slowly begins
to pry them apart.

Journey

They spoke in a singular language
A language none but they could know
She with the moonlight in her eye
He with the hush of fallen snow

They moved with a slow beginning
By the light of the rising moon
In the night on the white of the snow
To the sound of an ancient tune

They hummed alone – And they carried
About themselves a certain weight
That some might possibly dismiss
As being neither small nor great

And yet to them, these two, on the move
With unstated purpose pressing
Upon their steps, each weary step
A symbol of their load un-lessened

Bore witness to their anxious plight – 
And wherefore did they travel, and what from
That required they steal silently
Across the tundra on the run?

Was it a secret they alone
Could share, and with none other
But the moon and the shifting snow
And the misty night for cover?

Of this they spoke in muted silence
In a language only they could know
She with the moonlight in her eye
He with the hush of fallen snow

Common Threads

Collective self-consciousness,
the well where I draw
old voices and struggles
lie deep in its craw
What’s shared but unstated,
reflexively pawned
to borrow ungiven
the right to what’s wrong
Collective self-consciousness,
polarity’s friend
unspoken meridian
between fact and pretend
To wait in the memory
of what’s yet to come
released by the moment
—humanity won

(The New Room: February, 2022)

Yesterday Buried In Today

kitsch
               crowded
               streets
fast
flowing
               feathers
               and
pointed
feet
              jagged

              distinctive

              unique

appearance of
things-

a new
light


a cityscape
view

life in filtered
hue

emotions scurrying
     hurrying
so inexpressible

in the challenge of everyday

   so vivid the an uncontrolled inner drive

a message beyond  memory
the unstated
          void
distilling
          the hidden essence
        yesterday’s
 buried in today

At the Table

always the surprise
by lunch in the afternoon
conversations in passing
dinner in a plastic basket
every moment savored
forever to be
gratitude expressed by hands brushing
her four-year-old daughter at her ex’s
I look for something to share
just the smallest thing makes the difference
kindness to spell the day
love collected along the way
memories to carry the week
no one can say better than us
only her company matters
please I ask a little more
questions stir as I drink iced tea
remembering an appointment to keep
she refills my cup before I ask
talk of plans to see her again
unstated lines say more
violins play in my mind
writings lurk in my heart
extracting a beat
years of life to be shared
zero in on the moment

Prose Poem Liberty

Liberty,the poet’s pride where inspiration flies free in light&space.Concentrated& alive this friend within,distilling hidden essence ,the unstated enigma,an overtone without words,flooding out as yesterday’s rain,pure poetry in still life. From a passionate silence touching the void within,words just flow from infinite imagination,oozes &permeats beyond poetry,beyond language,this novelette of structured prose of yesterday’s buried in today.

Prose Poetry Kirchner

Something so inexpressible,the challenge of everyday,sparks a chord so vivid from an uncontrolled inner drive.This message beyond  memory,the unstated void distilling the hidden essence of our yesterday’s buried in today

In Your Dance

Dancing
There is dancing
On the ground floor of earth
Eternally grateful by the beauty

I am sophisticated heart investor
Flora to flora
Fauna to fauna
I am seeking the lessons of body
No nudity is there
Centripetal gravity force of mind controls heartily 

In my heart thou life dove is flying
The blazing dance craving my inside
As divine delightful oceanic tide

The eyebrows playing with eyeballs
The nose and nostrils spying the lips
The lips amorously kissing the mouth
The hands and fingers praying and pouring mysticism
The breast beating the mind lights of world fusion
The waist and navel showing the horizontal distance of happiness
The toes hypnotizing the weak fellow in moonwalking backwardness

No I am not there
Roaming I am on the apex throne of Olympic
where your dance shaking the spirit of Zeus soul 
And Cupid seeking an eternity of me instead god of gods
by mystical unstated words of shaking exotic body 

There I am in your veins of dance 
In your heart surviving as an unrelenting drunkard 
Till the connection with the metaphysics 
where God lives alone thick ......


11.06.2020 Chattogram

Victims

Victims
By: Tom Wright
1-8-2020

As victims, some people themselves, will paint, 
It’s simply a way of voicing their complaint.
Portraying a mountain, not the hill of a mole,
Gaining public sympathy is the unstated goal.

A narrative produces words, rapid and profuse,
The aim is to show some alleged abuse.
By playing the victim with intent to impugn,
They release hot air capable of lifting a balloon.

Je Ne Sais Quoi

Inferable, unknowable,
  all senses on fire

Beyond contradiction,
  sans myriad liars

Its vision unstated,
  true knowledge unfeigned 

Born into our souls
  —its silence to reign

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

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