You have passed on, distant and silent, o departed soul,
you are no longer here; life has left you whole.
You have been laid to rest in the cold, unyielding ground,
and where your voice once answered, no echo can be found.
Oh, O re tlogetse o hlokofetše—
You have left us, erased, wiped away,
breathing no more, cold as if fast asleep today.
This letter carries no spirit,le hloka moya,
it reaches for a shadow that was once my moya.
O, how the heart has turned into stone Pelo ye thata
severed feelings, emotionally detached, left all alone.
To feel nothing, go hloka go kwa, in this silent place,
unresponsive to the tears that fall across my face.
Go senyegile—all is broken, ruined, and still,
motionless paper resting on a frozen windowsill.
Whose time has run out, go felilego sebaka,
a page deprived of joy, drifting into the dark.
Oh, but I write to you ka nnete, in complete, unvarnished truth,
remembering the living one, yo a phelago, from the days of our youth,
when feelings responded, warm, empathetic, and bright,
filled with delightful joy, radiating pleasing light.
Your Rhythm, a gentle breeze
swirls the emotions
and guide me through maze
of life, i learnt lately
Your imageries, a telescope
amplified the bitter truth
But, wasn't it a gem to be seen
Your words, an enchanting soul
sparkle the page, making me whole
brushstrokes of magical art
paints a picture that touches my heart
So does it pierce
with unvarnished truth
a soul crushing existence
hopeless nights and desperate days
2 years ago seems like history
History of glorious times
Lets navigate
Not to the past
but to your poem
Your message, beacon in the night,
shields me like a knight
Oh!I am grateful
A river to flow
deafened by the dose of reality
Your craft, mastery of essence
Echoes emotions that never depart
Your art, a reflection of soul
Inspires to thank you wholeheartedly
While climbing the corporate ladder,
Jill zoomed right by Jack. He got madder
than a wet hen. Then, fit to be tied,
so determined to soothe his hurt pride,
he told lies on her. “Cheater!” he cried.
Everyone knew the unvarnished truth:
Jack was dishonest, mean, and uncouth!
Only ONE paid Jack any attention~~
his employer. I feel I must mention
Jack got kicked to the curb with no pension!
As for Jill, she has earned the respect
she is shown. All know she won’t neglect
any duty, and her employees
know she cares about them. Each, she sees
as a team member she’s glad to please.
In our heads are
two voices.
One is
deceitful,
judgmental...
You're not good enough.
You're not beautiful enough.
You're not strong enough.
You're not lovable.
You're not worthy.
You will fail if you try.
Laugh off these falsehoods
and listen to
the other voice within
that tells you
the unvarnished truth...
You are enough.
You are beautiful.
You are strong.
You are lovable.
You are a trophy to be held up high!
You will succeed, every time.
Days come alive and I breathe
fresh scents of freedom, of sacrifice
floating fearlessly from your moon
your aura, an attraction anointing
my glisten, an unvarnished truth
waiting to explode/explore within
a weekend of assertations
held firmly in the depth of your eye
Artists
Alfred, by chosen father, vehemently denies
the paternity and has had his statue erected in Faro.
At last, he was honoured for being glorious
bringing colour to an otherwise gloomy town.
Graffiti made by the like of Banksy charms
the rest is scribbling on a wall.
I know little about painters except for Caravaggio
he spoke the unvarnished truth about our life.
His critics like to point out that he was illegal too
what else to expect of the fearful.
Ha! Please take down
The eyesore
You've mounted atop your head.
You wonder why
It feels much too heavy.
Here's the unvarnished truth.
Because, well, because
One cannot be
A fool
And a king
Simultaneously
Your counterfeit diadems
Hold no weight, or value.
They wouldn't shine beneath
A plethora of suns.
Spare yourself
The world's ridicule.
To rule an empire
Unchallenged,
To someday sit
On a throne, wearing
The real McCoy
To travel so much as
Halfway
The long glory road
To acquire the royal appellation
And prestige you covet,
For starters, deep-six
Your distended ego
And delusions of grandeur
Date written: 04/24/2022
The cold, unvarnished truth
is often held back
from the malignant narcissist
out of reluctance, if not fear
of how deep it's knife would cut;
easily inflicted wound never heals
Bite Size Poem No.21 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Date written: 09/17/2021
Verity
Telling the truth to people close to you
is a difficult feat, the accusations and repercussion
can be dire.
When you puncture the picture where they see
themselves as helpful people.
The unvarnished truth is they will rob you blind
and expect you to be grateful.
Those who were your friend will not help you
for them, assistance have a pecuniary aspect,
If you let the trespasses against you slide, you will
think of yourself as a coward; and those who were
your friends will feel contemptuous of you.
Why so many must die?
Disparity…not death’s fault;
Death loves all people…
The truth has its ways,
Be careful how you respond;
Bigotry explodes!
Together…we die,
Together, we live apart;
To gather…denied…
Covid-19 kills,
But it’s not the enemy;
The news reveals…who…
Unvarnished truth…: shines;
Varnished lies reflect no light:
Only the liar…
Let’s not be dismayed,
This crucifixion shall end;
Resurrection comes…
Reading this you live…
Understanding this…you grow;
Ignorance uproots…*
*Grow… x 5
*Grow…5+2
*Grow…7-2
He keeps trying his barrage
of raging vitriol, but it's a blunt knife
on his target's alligator skin
A predictable high school bully
with the same ol' lines of attack.
His target always sees them coming...
and the invectives inflict no pain!
The bully sharpens the blade
with each try, then slashes and stabs
in rapid succession...
but the knife never breaks his victim's skin,
and the funny thing about it is...
the bully seems to be the one bleeding!
One fine day, the boy
bravely stands up for himself
with this unvarnished truth...
"You repeatedly try to cut me open,
yet you lacerate yourself each time
you fail to break me; and you'll keep
failing, so choose your next victim!"
Bravo, kiddo, bravo!
Submitted for...
Strand Select 12,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 01/15/2020
Date written: 01/12/2020
The artists
Alfred, my chosen father, who denied
The paternity has his statue erected in Faro
At last, they honoured him for being glorious
Brought colour to an otherwise gloomy town.
Graffiti made by the likes of Banksy charms,
Most of the rest is scribbling on a wall.
I know little about a painter but Caravaggio
Spoke the unvarnished truth about our life.
His critics like to point out he was illegal too
What else to expect from a truth-teller.
The preposterous fictions many
profess to be unvarnished truth
warp the very fabric of our universe --
cause those long dead to walk among us
through the spectral midnights in our minds.
The bone dust of those past millennia
films our eyes, coats our shelves
of sacred primers, those missals
unquestionable in their catechistic
authority -- so we become
the acolytes of those controllers
who have themselves always been
instructed, conditioned, and suppressed
by generations of such teachers --
through example, reward, or punishment.
Think! Open up your mind!
The truly free do not fear to question
and to decide the truth or falsity
of any proposition, any statement
or assertion and to declare
what they have concluded to be true.
Or false.
On Thinking Too Much
You think too much, she said, and I think
She might be right; she, whom once I fell in love
With and think of still.
Thought on thought, I explore every option, each an
Imagined path through life; intricately building fairy castles
And fantastic worlds of love.
I think too much, yet say very little, fantasy worlds
Locked inside my head; speaking is revealing, exposing
Self to risk of rejection.
And yet I wonder, in moments of introspection, what would
I lose to speak my thoughts; knowing, as with she, I
Might hear the unvarnished truth.
But then again, as with she, I might have a friend
For life, whose eyes look out at me
With amused and understanding affection.
I think too much, and remember a troubled childhood
And the search for love and recognition; to build myself
Defence against a cold world.
And here I am again, with you, who has not
Yet laid down the strict boundaries as did she;
And I think too much still.
A PLACE IN THE SUN
Through each disconcerting walk of life
Till all my explorations cease
All the vulnerability I’ve got culminate
I have lost the kiss of peace.
In a place next to the sun I gladly soar
Hoping to be near God, ending my inner war.
I loathed my ostentatious life
Yearning, in spite of all my fears
Land me safe in a place next to the sun
Where I can purify my eyes with fresh tears.
With every word said and every cruel thought
I atone to those who my cruel deeds had bought.
My heart has been completely crumpled
In vain my love with exertion broke free
Unvarnished truth should be my salvation
Seeking the lost emotions, to comfort Id.
In a place next to the sun I dream of going
Where all past transgressions shall be foregoing.
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