"unapparent" poems
the comforting warmth of the morning sun,
like I had known it from the days of yesteryears.
the familiar scent of dew-kissed grass,
a fresh aroma that brought forth the tide of gratitude laden tears.
I had foreseen the day to be just as before...
I had planned to play out my morning as I had rehearsed.
but your message had foiled all that I thought I knew...
it brought about the smile that eternity had kept pursed.
your words were laced with the flowers of spring...
they set at ease the unapparent apprehension I've always kept.
they spoke of compliments meant only for the worthiest quills,
I've read them in disbelief as I think not of myself, an adept...
truly you are one that's generous and so very kind.
for your words flew off the page and had struck home;
bearing the stoutest of hope and most selfless of wishes.
they had provided direction in these vague circles that I roam.
so now allow me to thank you dear poetess...
for drawing the sunrise clear into my view.
I shall revel and bask in its delightful rays...
because your words had painted today in the brightest hue...
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
I crave achievement, but my body aches from failure.
From constant wounds to my frail skin, courage is beyond reach.
It is elusive, distant, away from my ***** hands.
I want to fulfill my ambitions, but my mind wavers from success.
From procrastination and the dark holes of depression, my conquest of dreams is fruitless.
It is shameful, humiliating, disappointing to my household.
I wish to express boundless love to the world, but my small mindedness has failed to grow beyond ignorance.
From lack of effort and unapparent care, I am a disgrace to my well wishers.
It is sad, dismal, sorry to see such a being alive.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
Where does one start if not with the absolute I,
Beginning with sight,
The sun kept clockwork in check.
The kids kept their songs in their heads
The parents kept photo albums full of smiles where a split second
Becomes the cover letter for years of dread.
The page kept condensing life that is better left unsaid,
While the reader kept considering the page a part of him.
Beginning with sound,
The ocean kept grinding the ground.
The guitar kept articulating the waves that come from
A place that can be found
In the engine of muscled bone,
Arriving at what you know
Through nature's transient code,
Read between simultaneous consideration of scope
And a song that keeps you on your toes.
Beginning with touch,
The cage kept the prisoner condemned
Who was slave to the ego's violent whims.
Hunger ravages the idealism of men,
Who kept on believing in sensory over stimulation.
While rapid eye sleep kept fostering shackled sheep
Towards their only release.
Beginning with dreams,
I start to seem incomplete
Fuzzy puzzles kept flagging themselves as urgent but unapparent in meaning
And even faster in disappearing
To make room for me.
A resurgent thief
That kept insisting on stealing a mind's freedom to be.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
Dec. 30, 1989
In the valley of the angels
In the fields of broken snow
On the mountains of the warriors
Where the devil fears to go.
In the passions unapparent
In the tears of a restless child
In the calmness of the country
In the cities growing wild
Wherever love lies sleeping, whenever hope is lost,
A gentle heart forgiving will rise up from the frost
In the heart of bitter conquests
In the nights that never end
In the lies that hold the moment
dangling from a liar’s thread.
In the eyes of well know strangers
In the looks of friends that care
In the path of eminent danger
In the light of all that’s fair
Wherever love lies sleeping, whenever hope is lost,
A gentle heart forgiving will rise up from the frost
In the never ending stories
In the poems of bitter youth
In the ravings of an old man
Who has never faced the truth.
In the silence of the villain
In the victim’s callous laugh
In the arms of lover’s smitten
In the families torn in half
Wherever love lies sleeping, whenever hope is lost,
A gentle heart forgiving will rise up from the frost
In the bending of the willow
In the arrow’s perfect path
In the breath that any minute
Could always be your last .
In the patience of the hero
In the soul that takes a stand
In the seizing of the moment
When the moment is at hand
Wherever love lies sleeping, whenever hope is lost,
A gentle heart forgiving will rise up from the frost
J. H. Webb
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
Green to the eye
begets the visage: life-
Startlingly simple,
a color tells it all.
So ‘tis with the note
and the morning earth is smelly-
I ask,
by what happy accident
is everything made plain?
Like a dog bearing its belly
or a moth sleeping in daylight-
the unapparent thing of life
these words just cannot say.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
I was never moving backwards, in fact I never moved at all.
Here; among the markers and holy proof, have I, the path finder always sat.
Body stoic, thoughts dampened, eyes crossed spying wide but, ever wise?
Atop the two inch tower, in the humid shadow cast neathe the pine and needle.
Silas Wright Dewitt, my company unapparent, December fourth, 1844 was he bore
November tenth , 1904 is he born.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
One day I am walking, walking past a stone
I see a painted pattern undiscerned.
A marbled sort of mess, in shades of grey and brown,
the mass before me wears a cloak unlearned.
And to pass it by I am so apathetically inclined…
But upon closer inspection, I am surprised to find
a stone more tightly packed than first imagined.
The large and solid mass, from distance looking pure
Brought to light is seen to be deception.
The pattern I first saw, of messy marbled streaks
reveals to be of more compound complexion.
I feel the want to approach it closer…
When I with curious eyes delight to look more closely
I can see the tiny bits of rock and bone,
sand and shining mica, and shards of shell infused
bits and pieces all combined to solid form.
I recall the recent past, when only grey had cloaked this rock,
A spot that from a distance yawned a monochrome,
And I see this spot is parcel of a hundred tiny pieces–
An unapparent universe in stone.
I am now a nose’s length from this sight superior...
The closer that I draw to this planetary exterior
The I more I see each particle discrete.
I think that if I took a hammer, and blasted it apart
Each sediment could be a stone complete.
If I am solid body, what is to say
That I could not be so composite underneath?
I could be a thousand microchosms, from the inside out;
My solid form is only the relief.
And yet that I would find companion in this ordinary stone
Is destiny of day quite unforeseen
Discovered by surprise, while in this boredom’s hefty hour,
Retracing over simple path routine.
But more surprising still, while I’m comparing flesh to earth,
I can’t decide if it more likely seems seems
That stones resemble bodies, pieces making up a whole,
Or if bodies help us view the Earth extreme.
I think I may be too up close to see.
I am walking past this stone to let it be.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 6:21 AM UTC
the bigotry in me
proclaims you bigot-this-or-that
a silent death forgone before be met
the unapparent--yet habitual--whole you are
prereduced in pornographic quips
or tongue-slips given over to a politician's herd
remains in static symmetry's conclusive wan
sinks in double-speech's soft caress:
single, oceanic oil spillage shrug
,the value dancing buzz--
atop sommellier ****
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
One day I am walking, walking past a stone
I see a painted pattern undiscerned.
A marbled sort of mess, in shades of grey and brown,
the mass before me wears a cloak unlearned.
But upon closer inspection, I am surprised to find
a stone more tightly packed than first imagined.
The large and solid mass, from distance looking pure
Brought to light is seen to be deception.
The pattern I first saw, of messy marbled streaks
reveals to be of more compound complexion.
When I with curious eyes delight to look more closely
I can see the tiny bits of rock and bone,
sand and shining mica, and shards of shell infused
bits and pieces fused in solid form.
I recall the recent past, when only grey had cloaked this rock,
A spot that from a distance yawned a monochrome,
And I see this spot is parcel of a hundred tiny pieces–
An unapparent universe in stone.
The closer that I draw to this planetary exterior
The I more I see each particle discrete.
I think that if I took a hammer, and blasted it apart
Each sediment could be a stone complete.
If I am solid body, who is there to say
That I'm not so composite underneath?
A thousand microchosms, from the inside out;
My solid form is only the relief.
That I would find companion in this ordinary stone
Is destiny of day quite unforeseen
Discovered by surprise, in boredom’s hefty hour,
Tracing over simple path routine.
But more surprising still, while comparing flesh to earth,
I can’t decide if it more likely seems seems
That stones resemble bodies, pieces of a whole,
Or if bodies help us view the Earth extreme.
I think I may be too up close to see.
So I am walking past this stone to let it be.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 6:25 AM UTC
When nobody cares what's going inside
your heart in moments you need to feel care
when you are supposed to be satisfied
at least when somebody notice you're there...
and you want to scream and let go the fear
but something has hanged in you on a string
and you want to feel the hug, and comfort
yourself with the same bizarre haunting thought
that you lead a life, full sunshine and light
that cannot be led by someone who's blind
you comfort yourself that you hear the birds
and voices, and music a deaf person don't
you comfort yourself you can easily achieve
the peak of a hill of which ******* dream
you comfort yourself that you feel the life
with all its misfortunes and cravings and trials
and when you're sitting at sunset on shore
you know the path of the sun's chosen your
unapparent figure as aim of its tour
and feeling of life can pierce to the bone
when you tries to fancy where're people who've gone...
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 4:35 PM UTC
I was never moving backwards, in fact I never moved at all.
Here; among the markers and holy proof, have I, the path finder always sat.
Body stoic, thoughts dampened, eyes crossed spying wide but, ever wise?
Atop the two inch tower, in the humid shadow cast neathe the pine and needle.
Silas Wright Dewitt, my company unapparent, December fourth, 1844 was he bore
November tenth , 1904 is he born.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
If I secretly wanted to explode
Would you tell somebody?
Pass center-left
We're strangers now
Happiness?
Not really
Contentment?
Maybe.
I can't help but feel we're better off
No we...
You
Me
Separate entities
Backside volley
To the side of the valley
Favorite my tweet
And I'll flip-flop my meat
Meet me at the grocer's
Five-dollar Tuesdays
Make sure it's ******
Unapparent Appalachians
I spelled it wrong initially
Thought-o-sphere
To drivel near.
I got stuff to do.
I got stuff to do.
I got stuff to do.
Just touch me,
Somebody.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
California is getting punished,
For something unapparent.
Because they have the breath of Hell,
Burning through their front doors.
So for the love of the west coast,
Somebody save Malibu.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 2:21 PM UTC
The admiration lark is falling, the unasked skirt is crawling,
The writhes are swelling, the self-haunting is knelling
The unapparent showers are thrown, and the interventions each stiffened
Let your duskier perils play:
And make her polluted insufferable with tear on tear.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 3:16 PM UTC