Unstopped Poems | Examples

Where is my love?

Where is my love?

What is my life kind like? Anything of life?
No, the forgotten fate of a life of the field, flower-like
Be a style like of my kind and lover of the dream life

Please, don’t find me, oh my Emma love – your kind gone
A poor man in the cemetery gone, no your life, that’s gone
Be kind, and understand the unstopped lives, getting us like

I loved someone, a woman
My life was already gone, killed
Killed by a woman, my love die

My love is a cloud in blue
Wandering on the light sky
I am wondering about the life

Where is love?
More illusion
Blue flier sky

On sky
My life

Love
Flies

Life

Life, a moving train, 
With many stops.
Disgorging souls diverse
As it journeys forth.
Yet embracing 
New voyagers
Along its steamy path.
Within its long belly,
Hearts and minds immersed.
Unstopped onward journey, 
So swift and sure!

Dusted

Those dozing particles
of thisies and thats
that nomad
within that pierce
unstopped sun
but for the blinds line

Posthumous Award

The dead can still be warmly applauded
Who on us in some field had lorded
And his overripe honours remembered
Which he himself must’ve numbered.

A piece of provocation
When earnestly it had been waited for,
A never lessening expectation
From every supposed worshipping knock on his door;
Body movements of the dismayed at a delay,
Disappointed reflections on the sun being overhead and no hay.

On the palms of next of kin dropped
Who would his appreciation voice unstopped
But Alas not first mystically consulting the winner,
By this omission making himself some sort of sinner.

Arrives at a time
Winner’s earthly clock has ceased to chime
And he had off zoomed for a court business
That brooks no human witness.

Truth Be a Lady

The truth is elusive,
while you’re still alive

The sentence unstopped,
much harder to jibe

Luck be a mistress,
come fortune or fright

May truth be a lady
—tonight

(Dreamsleep: July, 2019)

Perched Near the Volcano

these radiating, seemingly 
endless rows of dust-choked porticoes
in the bustling Roman forum.

Receding to the vanishing point:

sun-drenched streets,
Ways to, hours for due mythology;

busy temples; gleaming marble columns;
massive, stone arches rising through
the wafting dust, through climbing, curling
shafts of dark, fragrant incense;

a general push and shove; 
all the chaos and clamor
that any self-respecting business man 
could ever hope to bring to bear.


But then, suddenly, an uncanny silence
descends upon all and sundry:

resultant astonishment, utter amazement
on every upturned face around.

Then a deep, mighty rushing.
Sound and fury, to be sure,
but those like the fearsome clapping and
booming of rolling thunder itself, like the
wild, uncontrollable crackling of lightning itself.

A deafening wind howls and wails.

Eyes finally see.
Unstopped with lies,
ears finally hear.
Warmed with love and reason
the human heart once again
beats with human feeling and compassion,
with perspective and saving Knowledge.

Snared

Snared

We have all become entangled
Little snares, have never strangled
A shoelace tight that won’t untie
A hole we dig with cloudy skies

The rain that falls can feed the crops
Or fill your fear with tears unstopped
As rising tides have always turned
But, little snares are lessons learned

These little snares; I push aside
Are not defeat, unless you hide
I keep these snares; reminding me
I use them now to strike a beat

A beat that finds a rhythm right
The rudiments; the truths of life
Those little snares, complete my drum
And now, my love, our song will come

Strum, ta, strum, ta ta, struuum

© 2018 Jeffrey Spencer

Us

Slash the stars hot
Strive to shift all
The blood in "oh no"
Cold rows at most slopes
Us splash a lot
Blood on our shirts
Why tear the skirts 
Of innocent hurls
Burning in upheaval
Heat that freeze
Many of slots beads
Us stretch out skies
And cause to melt beneath
Us strike knights that sigh
For lack of lights
Us light up lights
And burn down sun light
And cause to arise
Dead of the heights
Us are high above
All heights of ancient times
Us are unstopped
And cause to disrupt every
Shrub that sprouts
Us triumph over raw scores

Darkness

Silence, darkness.
Not a light in the furthest
Reaches that my eyes can test,
And yet,
There’s a shimmer, a glimmer,
A hint, a rumour,
Of hope yet to come.
A tremble in the earth.
Trembling expectantly, eagerly.
And as that shimmer, ever brightly,
Increases, the tremor afoot, charging
Almost an earthquake,
I finally see it!
That light
That ever-so-spoken of light.
A glimmer, a shimmer…no more
But now, a beacon
A herald as it beckons
Drawing my tired limbs to the horizon
Hope, potential
Unstopped, raw, expectant.
Stuck to the shaking ground,
Ignorant of the sound,
A clank, a roar, a whistle.
A rush of air, oncoming,
Right for me; crushing me
Too enticed, engrossed, absorbed,
To get off the tracks,
Of the oncoming train.

Ruins and Precious Things

Ruins are abounding in that mind of yours;
Walls that have crumbled are causing pause for step.
Treading lightly in intention;
 don’t want to break the only pretty thing that remains.
Casual introductions are made in smoky rooms,
 smiles shared that hold no key to your meanings.
So you continue to walk blindly through
 the faceless crowd of serpents shedding skin.
I am your only guide;
The only one who knows where the fault lines exist,
 and just how to avoid them falling through.
From one nightmare to the next,
 you awake with an Angel by your side.
Precious things do sometimes sprout
 from between the seams of what was old and black to you.
Don’t be so afraid to ease your stride,
 or to peer above the walls of this enclosure.
It is only a pen made by your boards,
 and hammered in by your nails of memory.
Your demons hold no sway with me,
 not with my divinity or the pride of my kiss.
This is everything that you do not know.
This is what came crashing through the barricades.
Unstopped by soldiers, steel points at the ready
 and knives to our throats.
I walk as if on air-
 with no care for your vicious lashes.
Nor a thought to brutal intentions;
They have never scared me before.

Not Again

Not again shall I fall a victim of folly,

Or again allow my heart be melancholy.

I shall let loose my fancy roam unroped,

And my dreams wander unstopped.

 

Ideas shall rule my mind,

And all I have shall respite find

In the autonomous flow of ease,

Till I slumber in eternal bliss.

 

Never again shall I follow the dictum of demagogues,

Nor be counseled by empty anecdotes of conceited pedagogues;

I shall let all slither free,

And all ordained to be shall be.

Blessed Evening

A blessed evening by sin unspoiled,
Cleansed by blood not by sin tarnished
Upon the accursed tree of Calvary,
Shed by one by his own people banished.

I'm grateful for the Blessed Nativity
At the cowshed of Bethlehem,
And for the exploits of Bethany,
And those of Cana and Capernaum;
For all defeat sin's ignominy.

I thus cherish this blessed evening unstopped
And worship the crucified Lord unperturbed;
For though death may sweep without signal,
Life I shall have uninterrupted and eternal!

Blessed Evening

A blessed evening by sin unspoiled,
Cleansed by blood not by sin tarnished
Upon the accursed tree of Calvary,
Shed by one by his own people banished.

I'm grateful for the Blessed Nativity
At the cowshed of Bethehelem,
And for the exploits of Bethany,
And those of Cana and Capernaum;
For all defeat sin's ignominy.

I thus cherish this blessed evening unstopped
And worship the crufied Lord unperturbed;
For though death may sweep without signal,
Life I shall have uninterrupted and eternal!

A Guy, a Pony, and a Pillow

Lonely roads,
He walked unstopped.  
By his side were a 
Pony and a pillow

The pillow was faceless.
The pony did not talk.  
Yet his friends they remained.  

Unable to seek…

Unable to walk the brighter streets,
A victim’s paradise,
He ran away.  

The people jeered at the guy 
Who was “playing the victim.”
Surely his pain was his addiction.  

So,
He left to his room,
Running from the anger, 
Frustration, and
Shame, 
They all the heed at he.  

In tears and desperation he spoke to himself,
“A pony to talk to,
A pillow to hug;
It’s all I need.”

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