"uncompromising" poems
*Intimate surprises
spun
from thin air.
Precious metals
forged
to last an eternity.
Unwavering.
Uncompromising.
Unapologetically bold.
Unlike anything else.
The incomparable thrill
of one-of-a-kind.*
/ Alexandra Mor
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
So it came to pass at last and sad to know a Timber has fallen
It stood in strength tall and strong for over seven decades
Resplendently toned it spread an uncompromising foliage
Masterly in domain magical in reach attaining untold grades
Humble in origins yet grew with endeavour and knowledge
Distinguishably it cut sway in tundra and in lush green glades
Son of sons of the Land held roots countenancing no crawling
It reached for the stars and danced reasons with every shades
Ran with the sun and sat with owls and vipers for tutelage
Sweeping the very highs and the lows in communal trades
In the jungle of sharks and vipers it be known who's in Charge
A Timber has fallen while the rains falls and blue clouds fades
There's now a mighty hole in the earth and rivers are swollen
Leaves scatter and branches beckon hundreds of onward bridges
Leaving best Princess, flowers and saplings for love and largesse
A notable trunk laid supine free to roam without worldly cages
Odes will enter dancing in guises and tears flow without finesse
A Timber has fallen and dirges will ring out for a man of all ages
Yemessia bows and says Adieu My Senior, we will meet again.....
[email protected].
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
as month July
crossed Avenue T. Vladimirescu
on a bicycle
in Sinaia
Denebola
in a red
cloak cross-legged sitting
over Revolution
was teaching History
to the cherries
Leyla, a midwife from Damietta
refers to the Kepler Laws :
with Fullmoon uncompromising
I do not recognize the midday crossing
of the Sun
its True Heading
the height of the stars
today 07.11.1980
right from within female Danube's womb
I bare
the smile and the eyes
of cupid .
George Vlachos
Translation : Christos Rodoullas Tsiailis
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
I tried to take a picture
Of everyday I was with you
I tried to take a picture
Of all the happiness you bring
I tried to take a picture
Of the flowers that you sent
The ones that were red
With that very strong scent
I tried to take a picture
Of the day that shined so bright
The way the sun radiated yellow
Giving us its light
I tried to take a picture
Of the nights by the lake
Where we sat in the blackened dark
Smoking getting baked
I tried to take a picture
Of the smile on my face
But I turned the camera around
To hide the clear but staining tears that raced
I tried to take a picture
Of the love around me,dear
But an uncompromising flash burnout
Causes me fear
I tried to take a picture
Of the happiness you bring
But what I captured
Was the truth and its sting
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 2:31 AM UTC
There is a love that goes beyond passion. Beyond desire.
A love that is felt within the very fiber of the soul.
One with ardent, inexorable devotion.
A love of imperceptible depth, and intense adoration.
There is a love as unyielding in its fervency,
As it is in its sanctity.
A love that is immutable, and enduring.
There is a love that sustains and validates one's existence.
A love that is uncompromising in it's absolutness.
There is a love that leads one to their destiny.
One that is incomprehensible. Without concession.
A love that holds the heart in passionate seduction.
There is a love that is timeless and unending.
A love that is unyielding in it's conviction.
There is a love with irreducible and fierce conviction.
A love with immeasurable compassion.
And that love, is the love I hold for you.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
I read a story today.
Like any good story it was layered upon the premise of the love between two perfect strangers.
Like any good story it was about romance that blossomed... and then flourished as quick as it was fierce.
Like any good story it spun a far-reaching web of hope and longing whilst still holding on to the uncompromising nature of responsibility to one's dreams.
Like any good story, there was a spot of intimacy. The gradual build up of physical and psychological attraction that culminated in the merging of two, was nothing less than tasteful.
Like any good story there was conflict.
But it was not the cliched garnish that involved oppressive parenting styles nor glaring racial differences.
It did not rope in the overused notion of "we're so different, we're two parts of a whole".
It was... a beautiful conflict.
One that does not allow the audience to choose sides.
In fact, it encourages you to think inward and root for both parties - be them together or apart.
If anything at all, it boils down to the pursuit of each individual's happiness.
Like any good modern day story, it ended with a breath held in a gasp. You hold it there for the longest moment and you have to close that breath with a heavy sigh of loss.
It also leaves you with ample room to deliberate the "what if" factor.
Happy endings last a while but sad ones... they rip a hole in you that almost never closes...
and you cannot help but go back to read it over and over again in the hopes of finding the elusive right answer or the best alternate ending.
Like any good story it was tailored in my fit. Because I envisioned myself in it. I got consumed by it. Overwhelmed by it, enough to almost break the pipes.
And like any good story, it's worth keeping...
In heart and in mind.
So I read a story today. And I didn't want it to end.
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
God made us brown so we'd be hard
to spot upon his fertile soil,
to hide from the birds...which he made as well...
to cower, dodge, to postpone hell.
But slug does not hide, or flinch back.
His coat? Uncompromising BLACK.
He turns defence into attack.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God gave us shells to weigh us down.
Without them, we would HURTLE round,
so common sense suggests. Who'd beat us,
across a distance of ten metres?
But slug, dear slug, you have the grace
to not rub freedom in our face,
to slow your stride to match our pace.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God made us quiet, thoughtful, wait.
He taught us manners, and restraint.
He taught us not to stay out late,
we're model garden citizens.
But slug, he DEAFENS when he speaks!
He goes out seven nights a week!
Beer-swilling, hard-living, party beast.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
I'd sell my soul to be like him.
Vacate my shell, and dye my skin.
I'd go twice weekly to the gym,
if doing so would let me in
to doors in town that say 'slugs only.'
But slug accepts no fake, no phony.
I'll love, but I will never be
a slug – oh glorious slug.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 5:12 AM UTC
Because it's really ******* degrading to put your
work everywhere, often times for free,
and to not even get **** back.
I'm also really ******* sick of teenagers.
Yeah, that means you too.
Here's a poem called,
**** the Patriarchy!";
"Someone told me it's just as
reasonable for men to fear ****
on the streets, as women. I've
been dropped into place and now
I realize I'm a radical feminist.
The kind of feminist people
check for under their beds at night.
The unapologetic type of feminist
who doesn't believe
in a "loud minority" of men haters,
but an eager audience listening for them.
The kind who doesn't play for your
culturally and historically inept ********
The uncompromising feminist.
Patriarchy is a cage,
feminism is my hammer;
I'm not trying to get out,
I'm going to **** this place up".
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
If you've not done it then you are a liar too
The luxury of the able-bodied to have a sneaky little poo
Look left, look right, there's nobody about
A peaceful time for what's needed now
A better handwash and a cleaner surround,
from the ceiling to extractor fan
Even onto the white grout
I'm not one to judge as I'd been there before
From a night in Yates's where they want your key to sniff coke
These private, uncompromising rooms have a life of their own, with stories I will not joke
The people of most Wetherspoons have a disabled key they use on a daily basis
Nothing wrong with them all, the odd one with a genuine NHS bracelet,
I tell you now, you really do start to hate it
But it is nice to be away from the majority of the public in a life I did not choose
Occupied, red dial turned, out come a pair of girls mostly half drunk, always together as a two
That is probably why it gets me down, a daily occurrence,
it affects us all,
These,
Disabled bog blues
JJB
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 3:19 PM UTC
Then there are these moments
When your constant addition and subtractions,
Not finalized,
But put aside,
For the smallest of tokens become the
Largesse of life.
I am writing a long poem that is yet unfinished,
Of Richard II, Bach, and the death of a king,
King Ego, the battle infernal of vanity, insecurity,
And the constancy, the sense that one is never good enough.
Then sacked, for a loss, behind the goal line,
By the few, the kind, the genteel.
From nowhere, sought not, comes quiet thanks,
Appreciation that makes my angst seem
Petty and childish, smaller than small.
One draws a deep breath,
In no rush to exhale.
Then as luck would have it,
Pachelbel's Canon In D Major arrives,
An uninvited, most lovely, most timely guest,
and I am on the floor
Weeping unashamedly that the kindness of the
Few, the kind, the genteel lift me up and tissue my tears.
Unclear and unknown what I have done to deserve
Such affection, for all I have proffered are a few words,
An insight or two garnered from reading between the lines.
I understand less, emote more, and head spun,
I, poet, defenseless, for I am inadequate to the task.
I feel your hands upon my elbows,
Your arms around my shoulders,
I, am poet risen,
Words not insufficient, for
Words deemed unnecessary.
For I am poet risen,
Up, up, up by the
Uncompromising embrace of the
Few, the kind, the genteel.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
Time threads her necklace patiently,
Choosing carefully the colour and shape of our experiences,
Here, a tumbled quartz - luminous and rosy,
There, shards of darkest onyx - tragic and uncompromising,
Every now and again, a perfect sphere of sacred turquoise to mark a special occasion.
Finally, satisfied with her handiwork Time ties off the strand,
And weaves the precious metal of our dreams - unrealised - into an intricate clasp,
As she places the memento around her bejewelled neck she sighs to herself and whispers:
‘Such promise, such pain, such beauty, such loss; I will treasure you always.’
Then reaching for her spool of silver thread, she begins again to thread her golden needle.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 11:02 PM UTC
I've fallen in love with 90's cinema
Where movies looked real and not too HD
The nostalgia of being taken back to that time
Is more then divine
scenes were not CGI
and the make up was not over the top
the message uncensored
whether offensive or not the movie won't stop
and you see the times how they've changed from uncompromising film making to watered down plots with only stunts to amaze
From reflecting after a movie to not thinking at all
I'm just reflecting that's all
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 5:22 AM UTC
Where have I gone?
The person I was and swore I’d always be
Somehow, while discussing cheap beer soaked high school memories
I’ve lost myself
Lost my direction
Let others define who I am
Or at least who I should be
I was always so sure of myself
And uncompromising on the matter
How did I let this happen?
And you
I thought I knew you
But I can’t tell if you’re lost or found
If the person that I respected
Was ever really you
Or if I was fooled into thinking
You
Were something else I needed
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
The Last Meeting
I dreamt the dream again
It repeats
Always the same
Built on borrowed uncertainty
An uncompromising battle within me
It shakes the very core of me
Lingers for days within
Then Draws out through my mouth
Opening doors to feelings
I'd rather stayed hidden
I'll be at the same meeting
It's years since it happened
The intensity burned
My insides ached
His icy stare penetrated
My heart
As I was leaving
My insides started screaming
As he was not following
This brought our last meeting
The last
During the night I used to watch him
Constantly breathing
The steady rise and fall of his chest
I needed this certainty
As the moon that shared all my nights
With clenched fist and warm soft breath
Reassuring me for now
He was alive
The steady rise and fall of his chest
I had become his mistress
His other lover insisted
Keeping her talons in him
So he kept on descending
Into the furrows of the unknown
A place I could not follow
A place I would not go
I fought her for years
Then finally gave up my fears
I walked away in tears
This brought our last meeting
The last
I was standing
He was staring
The taxi waiting
Tears started spraying
My heart near to breaking
Me needing
A fresh start
This form of addiction is far from forgiving
My love had equipped it from the start
Now I keep dreaming
Of the last meeting
The one that shattered my thoughts
We are both staring
The north wind is blowing
On the sun heated sidewalk
The ******
Withdrawing from his blood
The scales are weighing
Between her and me
He has mistaken
Her love from the start
He started turning
My mind started reeling
My hands started shaking
As he kept on walking
So I keep dreaming
Of the last meeting
The one
That shattered my heart
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
What are we but a melodramatic love song.
Lust into love,
One night stands turned into a forever dance, Moving to our rhythm,
Willingly settling into second,
Just to keep some since of piece of him,
Finding peace in him,
Dangling hope of just being present,
I just want to live in his positions,
And die dreaming of laying in his arms,
Holding on to bodies that aren't belonging to me,
As if to waive promiscuity,
To be proud, Oh to be proud,
Feeling nothing more than misjudged,
But judged rightfully so,
I just wanted to love him,
Lived in such a foolish state,
Breaking down complexities,
As if love could be so simple as one sided,
As if i had a choice,
Knowing we had a choice,
Admitting in my moment,
Clinging to what would hold me the longest, Running from his wrath into one of my own,
Stuck.
In the eye of the storm,
Not progressing, and content.
Content, but lonely Oh so lonely
To have him, but not to be his, to be his but have no claim to his heart.
No, not confused,
Just wishing that the truth could be written more beautifully.
Looking to the future for answers in the now, Should we stay Or move on,
Trying to go full circle,
Lost in a triangle Surrounded by sharp edges, Looking for a way out
But I choose to stay I surrender,
No longer willing to fight the truth.
I just wanted to love you With nothing in return, Stuck In uncompromising situations, but I stay, still. Hoping happiness will find me here.
Stuck.
She loves him, I love him, he loves her,
And yet I find myself just existing
Trying to find my place but theres no place for me here.
Drifting.
Awaiting the day ill no longer need him as a crutch, Cause I'm broken, Oh to be broken
Gave myself wholeheartedly Only to end up brokenhearted,
***** of any chance of forever,
Daydreaming of broken possibilities,
Looking into mirrors, Staring at ruins Figments of who I once was but ruined,
So I stay.
Still. Waiting for happiness to find me here.
-13'
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
Maybe those afternoons,
were meant for,
that simple meeting,
amidst the quiet,
breviloquent chatter,
raw, uncompromising,
blissful uninhibited emotion.
Resounding cups,
mismatched china,
jasmine, rose, lavender tea,
celestial gardens,
plants; leaf-bearing
chinking lipped tea cups,
saucers pooling.
Immaculately intricate,
of Hadrian Denaruis silver,
an eighteenth century delight,
for ladies; un salon de thé,
sound waves wander as tea diffusers,
ritual & routine,
friendship & freedom.
© Sia Jane
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
I've fired a gun
felt it's rage
heat on my face
uncompromising
unstoppable decision
could I project
such inexorable
hate on another human
see them destroyed
by my anger
projected into their soul
Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
Broke
( broken!)
--
Yeah?
So what?
--
--
Can you possibly just try
To
Do nothing else than
Live
With
GENEROSITY OF SPIRIT
&
ETERNAL
COMPLETE
ABSOLUTELY UNCOMPROMISING LOVE?
Live with dignity
Die in eachother's
Pure hearts
--
Come on!
Enough **** suffering
&
**** suffering Poetry!!
DAMN'
It's getting disgusting!
Demoralizing!
---
GENEROSITY OF SPIRIT!
ALL TOGETHER NOW
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
You visit this place
You do not stay long
There’s nothing here
that speaks of settlement
Everything you do has an edge
of intensity wet by the weather
sharpened by the clock
If you try to be still
in what passes for shelter
the wind will find you
seek you out
So with the camera your primary tool
begin to collect - image after image after image
Point and click : view and share
Eventually the mark-making begins
though fraught with difficulty
it seems just hopeless this testing out
of the body’s response to what passes
before the scanning eye
Blink
and the image shifts
There is this fierce and on-going campaign
between the near : between the far
What lies at your feet : what decorates the horizon.
After a few hours wrapped round in nature’s vortex
the eye and brain are exhausted by the profusion of it all
wearied by the press of wind, the touch of rain, the glare of sun
Always the problem of what you do
with what you’ve seen
and touched with cold hands
pulling out metal objects from the sand
whose rusted and distressed forms
will lie exposed on the studio table
The place marks you Rain and wind on the face
raise new freckles there’s a salty veneer to the skin
the rub of sand : a wash of seawater
the grasp of pebbles : wood’s chiromatic grain
The lexicon of texture expands under your fingers
changes of temperature : degrees of saturation
and further uncompromising perspectives
unimaginable yet in two dimensions
Beyond beachcombing this is seacoast surgery
Away from it all (and out of the wind)
your memory stretches to the corners of recall
Wandering through a home-centred day
as in a waking dream
knowing you’ve already gathered
all manner of sensory matter
held and stored in the pineal gland
flowing free in Meissner’s corpuscles
Even absorbed in conversation’s company
as you turn away to fill the kettle
you are on the beach back in the wind
scanning the memory tin : priming the future.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
It’s 1:02 p.m.
on a Wednesday
I am waiting to take a test
1:03 p.m.
and I am willing
to test my willingness
to stay here
in a town that moves
on the back
of a razorblade.
They never say
what we are waiting for
here
in the quiet
resistance
like the eye of the storm
on the softest sheets.
I have become an antique,
a collectible,
a hollow instrument
used for my city’s defense.
I have begun
to move backwards,
erasing time
in a land where
clocks don’t tick
and lights don’t blink.
Love
here
always moves like the weather –
moving
churning
spilling
breathing
forcing
uncompromising
is the love of Mother Nature.
If I had met you
before the government won
or after my mind
became a gun
I would love you
I would love you
I would love you
better.
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
And amidst all the darkness and hatred that floats about us in our midst, there seems to be a light. A sheer, uncompromising light that helps you glow. You. You and your amazing beauty, your radiance, your sweet bask. I feel warm when I am with you. The mystery of who you are or where I found you is just as ambiguous as your feelings are to me. I feel warm in freezing temperatures, cool in tropical climate. There is no feeling quite like it. Calm. Serenity. Balance. Mother of God in all of it's forms. A banquet for all five of my senses. A calm silent tear falls from my face as I write this, as I wish I could be wiping away yours. A silent farewell to thee my lady, my love as I dream pleasant dreams of how one day you will be in my arms. Silent. Soft. My beloved white angel in the arms of this dark, ill tempered demon. I give you sweet dreams, my dear. Whoever you are.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
There really is no better way
To spend a rainy summer's day ......
*Your
kisses
soft
yet
alluringly
teasing
Lips
hovering
over mine
like a dragonfly
beating it's wings
Fanning
my desire
Spreading like
wildfire
through my veins
Neurons alive
with ambition
I tremble
in anticipation
of your caress
Greedy
for you to
take me
completely,
uncompromising,
owning my eyes
my body
my soul
as you hold me
on the brink
over and over
until my passion
bursts .......
Like the rain clouds
that orchestrated
this encounter*
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 1:54 PM UTC
And with hot branding, I name the end, it is unknown Obadiah, it is uncompromising Demosthenes, it is ambuscaded Agamemnon,
it is crafty Cain, it is able to pull lightning down from clouds to electrify a world beset upon by forces of great magnitude, vibrations ricochet off of each other, quaking knee's knock as earthquakes rock tectonic plates.
In this final hour what was once to edify is now to petrify and once let free the fire is an esurient monster after being kept so long locked behind the now yawning earthen gates, witness even the most pluvial flourishing plain blister and boil, witness unyieldingly the flesh bubbling in flux as if from extreme cell proliferation, another soul abdicates its husk.
Mayhap this life will lead to another, as If there will be a choice project an air-less voice on the matter, will this If, insist on this If,
hold your breath in front of polyonymous Death, let without a moan a trembling icy finger trace lips of now great pallor and make the word-less decision known, no more cyclical reaping of our worn souls says humanity and beg on the now naked ruth for our sanity.
Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC