I wake up to see a sky gray but untroubled
But will my day unfold, remaining unwounded?
The forecast says mild rains will come in a short while,
But will the flowers get drenched awake unwounded?
A fledgling bird shivers under a dripping leaf,
quenches its thirst, will it fly away unwounded?
I shake my mind off mangled dregs from last night’s dreams
But will my dazed senses recover unwounded?
I need to touch and hold rich testaments of joy
Will these console my soul to remain unwounded?
@jjote 090624
This love is a needle ,
It pricks my gentle chest,
Like a thorn it tears my tissues away ,
A great sensation of pain caresses my soul,
Sweet yet unbearable,
Like the sky on mercury retrograde.
It burdens my soul yet lifts my spirit,
Somehow I can't seem to escape it,
Like an occurrence of hurricane,
It clouds my judgement,
And blocks my instincts ,
Evidently I feel it alone .
I waited for tomorrow,
And time laughed on my face,
The cherry blossoms never blossomed,
Tomorrow forgot to visit ,
A stranger acquired you ,
Yet I'm left holding on to these emotions,
Time heals all wound they say,
But there's no healing an unwounded heart ,
Or an unscared soul ,
I chose pain ,
After setting my eyes on you ,
I knew it could never be returned,
Yet I chose to pour it out unconditionally,
I'm a fool in love I can't reason,
I'm a fool in love I'm brainless,
Just dying to be loved by you ,
Desperation drives my current fate.
This love is a needle ,
It pricks my gentle chest,
Like a thorn it tears my tissues away ,
A great sensation of pain caresses my soul,
Sweet yet unbearable,
Like the sky on mercury retrograde.
It burdens my soul yet lifts my spirit,
Somehow I can't seem to escape it,
Like an occurrence of hurricane,
It clouds my judgement,
And blocks my instincts ,
Evidently I feel it alone .
I waited for tomorrow,
And time laughed on my face,
The cherry blossoms never blossomed,
Tomorrow forgot to visit ,
A stranger acquired you ,
Yet I'm left holding on to these emotions,
Time heals all wound they say,
But there's no healing an unwounded heart ,
Or an unscared soul ,
I chose pain ,
After setting my eyes on you ,
I knew it could never be returned,
Yet I chose to pour it out unconditionally,
I'm a fool in love I can't reason,
I'm a fool in love I'm brainless,
Just dying to be loved by you ,
Desperation drives my current fate.
He had the grace of a buffalo
And the strength of a gazelle,
But he wore it comfortably
And we loved him for it.
His secret was contentment.
It empowered us all.
We were unbeaten, unwounded.
Many challenged us,
Striking below the surface
Attacking everything they valued.
We remained untouched,
Hidden in the open.
We were who we claimed to be,
Invisible to the stealthy,
A monument to the innocent
And he loved us for it.
Down through the greener woods of Uma,
Through the lions’ den to the green mamba’s palace,
Near the dik dik’s habitat,
As the antelope took off to escape the rage,
Of the approaching leopards whose paws protruded,
Upon the trees were vultures the street sweepers,
Freely interweaving chores with weaver bird choirs,
Whose melodious tuning meant zero to the jungle-
Whose circle a train man decided to cremate,
Elephants hitting their tusks clumsily-
To secure escape routes as rhinoceros tails wagged by,
On their bellies, precious pythons unwounded their rings,
To fit in the general jungle athletics
As the dark pan paper like smoke covered
Rapidly converting the small milieu into-
A small tentative night before a see through,
Thorough plights epitomized the sodomic tragedy
And the Gomorra wails.
As he moved down the valley to Naili Center
Nyama choma’s aroma spread in the setting
As occupants of a small matatizo City
Saw through to Lake Matatizo bounds-
Silence in Uma.
Sip something to long life
Be better today no need for strife
Conclusion unbounded
I step on the stage
Feeling unwounded
Without all my rage
Creation Conceals within Conclusion
Returning home, alas, long forgotten
Alone no more, an entwined surprise
The essence of one, unseen, a Delusion
The presence of self, unknown, begotten
Together no less, an unwounded lies
the man who lied to me knew
that immortality is the best kind of lie
that pain is closer to the soul than happiness
secrets known only by the old watchmakers
and the erudite antiquarians
men who lie read every book with their fingers
they know that leaves are the plaits of virgins
unwounded with bloody hands on the cross
and letters are the thorns within the heart of every Laura
betrothed for ever nevermore a wife
only the sea is for the whales’ fishermen
old whore with hair on her chin
the only true men who learn
the salty taste of death
at daybreak
"to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature" William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1601:
Along a path of solitude I tread,
flanked on either side by watchman trees,
a lush green canopy above my head,
in foliage the flutter of cerise. . . .
I gasp to see two cardinals appear.
Then farther on, I spot a white-tailed doe!
She calmly meets my gaze and shows no fear.
I can’t imagine in this place a foe!
The trees, unwounded, stand with dignity.
And whether skies be bright or overcast,
they guard this realm, and one will shelter me.
I kick off shoes and stop for a repast.
Now barefoot and relaxed, I write this poem
in quietude of Mother Nature’s home.
For The Tree contest
sponsored by Constance La France ~a Rambling Poet~
For Brian Strand's
ANY OF YOUR 2011 poems any theme/any form max 16 lines Poetry Contest
The unmistakable scent of damp wool coats drying,
Has a pleasant way of mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee,
Every seat in the livingroom is full, everyone watching TV.
Twenty four hours of, what else, football! football!!! football!!!
Parents and Uncles and Grandkids and Aunts, Sisters and Brothers and Kids,
New Boyfriends or Girlfriends whose names you can't remember,
The men and a couple of the "Grownup" girls gather on the glassed-in porch,
At halftime, to take a little shot of cheer and to remember other days,
Missing Dad and enjoying my mother's laughter and comforting her tears.
The immense dinner that gets better every year; don't ask me how.
Fixing a plate to take to Mrs Stuart who won't come, although she is welcome.
Past ninety she has no family left and is too proud to "intrude".
And Robert is home unwounded and safe, Our Son, my little boy no more.
Thank You Lord.
He's like the wind that blows softly through me
Giving me a sense of feeling secure.
He is the answer to my every dream.
My hurting heart has found a loving cure.
I have suffered many times before.
So many scars were left to wound my heart,
Tearing through my body leaving it sore.
But with him I can make a brand new start.
His love flows through me like my rich, warm blood,
It's pumping to my heart to give me strength.
To feel this way, I never thought I could.
He's there to take my love to any length.
I love him more and more every day.
I hope he never leaves and always stays.
(3/10/88)
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.