"unforced" poems
For the first time in his life,
he was speechless
not a word to say
A thought unformed,
a bell not rang
silently staring,
mouth agape
at the woman who made him think
in different ways
For the first time in her life,
she was speechless
to the woman who told her
she was beautiful
in so many different ways
she was speechless to the friends she had made
unable to formulate words,
chatterbox broken,
a record skipping
Like any other time in his life,
he was speechless,
not a word to say,
unforced words to people he'd never known
to people who don't care
until he's online,
with his fair share.
Like any other time in her life,
she was speechless,
but no,
not on paper,
her words flowed like a rushing river
but only on paper
to be unseen but to her.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Oh, hello itch,
I've not missed you!
Nor your pleading, uneasy,
Eager smile,
Wicked begging eyes,
And hungry open mouth.
I've quite enjoyed this past while,
Lacking your insistent whispers.
Your lustful face
Looming round each corner of my boxed up,
Broken brain -
'FRAGILE - Do Not Break'
Ignored by the world -
Allowing you unforced entry,
You made a home
Hidden in the shadow
Of my unconscious darkness.
Fitfully coming to light
To remind me
Of yours and therefore my own;
Plea to die.
Dec 9, 2022
Dec 9, 2022 at 7:47 AM UTC
those that see beauty in everything feel the most discontent.
there are extreme emotions that one who is creative must process--
an unforced authenticity and tenacity to stay focused on a subject,
and to devote the same amount of attention to each entity, that you lose a sense of self and a sense of the world around you.
we use stress as a way of pushing us forward,
and only in moments of extreme stress does an amazing happening occur.
and for this, we are deemed odd, as a normal person thrives where they are most comfortable.
the originality that visionaries possess is exhausting, yet we admire it.
we allow for many things to flow in our minds without halt,
all notions and ideas taking up precedence, and this may be our greatest fault.
day break to sunset, my mind is racing non-stop, constantly,
to the point that sleep does nothing to quell the overthinking brain,
as my lucid dreams act as a force to keep me awake at night.
my mind is in a perpetual state of fantasy, sometimes during everyday life in bouts of daydreams,
imaging new situations and being unable to describe it all.
when I try to silence the thoughts that persistently flux through my mind,
my talents feel wasted during this time of artistic deprivation,
and only do I feel truly sound when I create new artworks for a few to discern.
sometimes I feel as though my mind feeds off on my depressive states,
as it takes the deepest of emotions to generate proufound art.
while I wish to be happy, I have a need to be in a bit of a sustained disarray.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
There are several approaches to climbing Everest.
Some are easier than some others, none are easy.
This mountain is littered with discarded equipment
and the evidence of loss and unforced errors.
The cold here, at the top of the world,
pierces through your clothes
Like a million acupuncture needles.
The air is so thin
That hypoxia is a constant danger.
There is exhilaration at the summit
For those who reach the top
They stand where Mallory and Irvine stood
before they suffered their fatal drop.
We climb mountains because we are men.
We are addicted to the adrenaline rush.
We climb Everest because it is there.
We climb Everest because we must.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 8:13 AM UTC
Give me your strength as a tennis player,
Your kindness and compassion too.
For learning from your consistency,
And having your jokes glued to me too.
Striving to become you,
You help me overcome frustration over a point too.
You teach me to try my best,
And use the right grip too.
I’m rolling on the floor,
Laughing to your ironic jokes too.
You’re a great friend,
And my tennis partner too.
Besides your jokes,
I admire the effort you present too.
You’re very honest and sincere,
And fun to be around too.
My jokes will never surpass yours,
As our friendship grows too.
You make me ecstatic,
The laughter and joy increases too.
You lift me up when I’m down,
Teaching me how to become a great tennis player too.
Watching you before my eyes,
Make me not only smile but really adore you.
You’re an inspiration,
And spontaneous too.
You would fight till your goal is reached,
And improve on your unforced errors too.
I’ve known you for eleven years,
As we played together too.
I’ve been timid around you at first,
Not even glancing at you too.
Over each year we’ve talked more,
Now we’re best friends too.
I hope these years will continue,
And we’ll see each other too.
We’ve been through exhilarant and complicated times,
But we’ve been through much excitement too.
I’m grateful to have met someone like you,
You make me feel worth while,
Playing a suspenseful game of tennis too.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
The simple
Uncomplicated
Unforced
Accepted
Movement of Spirit
The rising
The falling
Fullness
The gentleness
Of holy life
YOUR BREATH
-------
Imagine a
Lifeguard
(You)
Giving
Artificial respiration
To every human being
-----
Well
In
Truth
It is not imagination !
It is not artificial !
----
Now
Everyone that you inspire is doing the
Same
To you and to everyone!
--ENORMOUS--
The amount of power
The amount of **********
That is truly here
Truly possible
If we knew it
If we would not abuse it!
---
We must have TRUE KNOWLEDGE
TRUE WISDOM
ALL else is merely petty
A else
Is living in darkness
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
There's a hole deep down inside of me
That cannot be filled
No matter how hard I try
Self medicating only makes the bottom deeper
This hole is much like a black hole
It will **** everything good that seems to come close inside
to never be seen again
Afraid to see what is down at the bottom of the hole
Afraid that it will be forever there
I search for something more
Something to fill it in with
Spiritual rituals become dull
And life leaves me complacent
Searching searching searching
Hoping that some day the hole will soon be filled again
That a smile will be across my face unforced
Searching searching searching to fill this deep deep dark hole inside of me.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
Into the Seasons of my mind I wander.
The gentle laughter that teased my tender ears,
Of my grandmother and her friends meeting,
Like ladies used to do.
The aroma of fresh baked cookies, cakes and pies,
Wafting in the cool Autumn breeze.
Back when women baked and were proud of it,
Back when there was Time...
Time to gather and just be glad to be together.
No harmful gossip, just the joy of friends
Willing to help each other through trials
That Life throws.
The strength of velvet bonds
Tied together for the common good of all.
Leading by examples, not needing to pontificate
On the deportment young ladies should show.
And me, proud to be included.
My Grandma's Shadow, adding my
Youth and exuberance to the occasion.
Learning about Life on that vine covered porch.
My apron was sized for my small frame,
I wore a dress, like the ladies present always did.
My hair coiffed, just because
I wanted to make my Grandma proud.
Oh yes, those were the days.
Before emails and internet,
When we spoke to each other and
Learned how important communication truly is.
Days, when it was good for girls to look like girls
And be proud of approaching womanhood.
Not subservient, but a partnership
That made men proud.
Yes, those were the Days!
Unforced laughter,
Able to face the world without fear,
Because we knew "Good" would win.
I'm grown now, I don't always wear a dress.
I live in a "Man's" world, contrary to my early years.
But I still smell the baking cookies, pies and cakes.
I still sit on my front porch .
My heart remembers my childhood
Though I must adjust to this fast moving Life,
I will always carry in my Soul,
As I long for the days of Poise and Ivy.
Deb Nixon
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:18 PM UTC
Gimmicks and shenanigans
Are altogether lame.
Overt meanings of a poem
Are meant to be more tamed.
Puns and plays on ev'ry word,
Or rhymes and playground taunts,
Lack a subtle nature;
Alliteration flaunts.
For free lines feel unforced,
And poems portray with power.
But not with gaudy gilding,
Like petals on a flower.
No, poems are not much better
When written tongue-in-cheek.
In fact, for all those reasons,
This one's considered weak.
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 3:46 PM UTC
I go to sleep, lonely.
When I open my eyes, the loneliness has grown and my heart hurts, it's heavy. There's a space in my heart that grows wider and deeper with every sunset and sunrise.
Invisible. I don't exist in my own life. With every inhale and exhale I fade away more. Without him even noticing. The pain is so intense, I've become numb. Dead to my own memories, insignificant in every small detail. I'm screaming, screaming from the bottom of a bottomless pit. He can't hear me.
Every touch to his body is without emotion. When he needs to fulfill himself, I'm only a body. No more than when I was paid to sell my soul.
Destitute. When I look in the mirror, there are remnants of a woman.
I long for the days when one caress lit up my insides. When a smile put chills down my spine and love could be made with eye contact. The scent of fresh made me want to crawl in bed and laugh and never emerge from the covers again. Where conversation could last for days, never in a hurry, because the most important people or things, were right there with us.
Hollow. Drowning and desperate.
I cry in random places at random times. I want the pain to leave me alone. To never have to feel this way. To wake up with a smile and roll over to make unforced love, that's real and desired. To laugh my day away and fill up my soul.
Tears. I thought they would dry up eventually. My heart and soul well up and gush out the hurt. I try to hold it in, hold it back, it overflows and I find myself wanting to be locked away in a dark room.
Broken. Shattered and unfixable.
I've made my life this.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
I’ve been thinking
about death a lot lately—
or, that is, I think the image
my brain’s been showing me.
The vestiges of the visage
of who I used to be haunt me;
and in the crickets of my slumber,
I couldn’t help but wonder
about death a lot lately.
The quarks and the quasars I inherit
from the big bang of long ago—
elements that form Mercury—
collide back and forth, and
these are pangs that wouldn’t go,
and it has been deathly difficult
meandering out of this hole.
I’ve been lost in myself—thinking
about death lately so droll.
The synapses fire and misfire;
the subsonic trappings bellow
in the cave of my deep below.
These black-and-white films
feel rewired [rewritten annals]
of which I existed since long ago.
I resonate now an unholy see
of white-noise hellos; or:
the slow slipping of my psyche
around death a lot lately.
The string of unforced errors
does all but help me be still;
yet still the terror rises each
time I open my eyes to this
farce that I’ve been waking up to.
Since your “I don't care for you,”
I've never felt so unwanted;
as my heart opened and bruised,
my soul aches for yours dotted
along my arms so they feel whole.
I unravel when you’re in my mind;
in those twilight hours of just us,
for those unmeasured hours,
you were irretrievably mine.
And doubt may blur what we feel,
and walls may [and can] fall,
and in those moments so real—
yes, surreal—
and for those days that we were,
I haven’t thought about
death at
all.
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
Please read the notes first.
Tally time, conclusion forming,
"Some day," grown nearer.
Tree's longest branch,
Coming to reach, reaching to come.
Soon to beat and plead upon
Cottage window and door.
Rooted whisperer, jealous reminder,
Revered warning, timely sounding,
Your time of Reckless Choice arriving
Destination's unnamed coordinates, uncoordinated,
Journey from wherefrom to wherever, unrecorded,
Observed by silenced overlording sky,
Testimony of the seeing voiceless clouds,
All nought and to no avail, destination head-shaking,
These white witnesses,
Muted, deaf, dumbfounded,
Knowing, yet incapable of telling
State of sated steady staid,
Sundered by sharp silent sounds,
Reckless surpasses Riskless,
Life is a recitation, an enunciation
When my less to say is soon none,
My Reckless Choice, now chosen,
Unforced but enforced,
I shall be gone
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
Falling asleep,
But needing to write,
Too much oxygen,
Or too much right,
I owe it to her, to write right meow,
Heartbeat is realizing,
They aren't coming back that night,
Like a loyal dog it begins to calm,
Until they come back,
And feel their palm,
I don't think to stand nor sleep,
Just here wherever,
Trying to remember new memories to keep,
It's awkward, but unforced,
With delirious comfortability,
But sleep eventually conquers,
And my writing loosing eligibility,
Dizzy, but the smiling won't cease,
Waking up tomorrow, or tonight.
With an awkward peace
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
It just doesn't work like that. Like a big switch in my head, (grubby and greasy with finger prints), buzzing and humming when turned on.
Actually, maybe it's just like that but...
the thing is, if I were to ramble 'bout all the ways you are just so god ******
well, that's the kind of **** that makes people want to throw up.
So if you could somehow just take my word for it that you are...
that poster that hung on my wall when I was twelve,
a wholesome dream as much as a pornographic one,
****** decadence all mixed up with kittens and puppy dogs,
well then
we could keep on loving and living well and forget about things as pretentious, narcissistic and nauseating as a poem.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
It's the night,
before another rotation,
things feel right,
unspoken words,
have turned into one way actions,
elusive internet *******
replaced by the piggle wiggle's,
chainsaw snoring,
the room smells of seroquel, feet,
and the helping of hope,
sticks from a recovery melted poet,
legs of jell-o,
mood of mellow,
dancing twilight in a skyline,
of building and buses,
a year ago he was drunk,
and jail was his entitlement a week,
later,
two years and more,
have evaporated to chemicals and nights that no longer exist,
and lust,
and fair share of unalibitical rust,
the sounds and smells he's,
holding onto this year,
the only hourglass sand bits,
not fallen through, for the feels of fear,
will only disappear,
Birthdays in rehab,
birthdays ad non infinitum,
courtships of programming & meetings,
the poet,
now producing naturally foreign unforced smiles,
better get his sponsor,
to sign his slip.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
Yes
You are wonderful
These words were for no one
About nobody
But take them, now they're yours.
Believe them stranger.
Wear an unforced smile, with pride.
Believe those words strangers.
If I make you smile, I guess I'm wonderful too.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
this smile is a timid grin
a sad smile
a “don’t lose hope” smile,
the innocent raise of the child’s cheeks;
a closed mouth smile
with no teeth inside.
this smile is an excited smile
free to convey the ups of the day.
the “just turn your head a little
to the left” picture day smile;
the natural, unforced smile of
greeting an old friend like no time has passed,
the gentle smile while resting your head
on a lover’s shoulder,
with their returning smile more coveted than your own.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 7:14 PM UTC
Worry for tomorrow is of no need,
He leads me into tomorrow with full truth,
Love is inside of me in which I live in His unforced rhythms of life,
We are only a little lower than God!
We are made to carry His glory,
Jesus lived on earth to lead the way,
In a perfect life lived Jesus fulfilled Gods purpose,
Lets go and seek to do the same!!!
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
~~~
reaching hard for words
~~~
enter tip toeing,
the loudest noises off,
save for a silent, seriously-forming smile,
re-designing your face,
while in the orbit of early morn,
mapping your return to the planetary
bed
all the while,
observing her
while closeted, comforted and cloaked,
upon their/his
landing zone bed,
honing your return re-entry voyage
home
the blonde in her traditional,
sleep arms slung in wilding, disarrayed
repose,
and
her breathing stride,
regularized and still,
yet so humanly unpredictable
wild ride
and your are surprised
by surprising yourself,
once again,
that you're in this position,
when an unforced, yet an enforceable,
warm hearted girl-glad,
chest centric?
envelops and coddles
and yet
shocking you,
that this never-expected-gift is capable of being felt
at in over up outside inside
below across beneath above and the
all encompositional prepositional,
throughout
forms of its own accord,
not asking permission,
to exist within
your body that not so long ago,
forgot where it kept
the
how-to manual
and you,
obligatory poet,
noblesse oblige,
try reaching hard for,
top shelf, newly combinated,
adjectival adverbial nouns and
verb words
to encapsulate this
shocking development
but finding none,
save for the the silent, seriously-forming smile,
busy re-designing your face,
quiet like,
it,
thunder claps slaps
in your mind
enough!
*your smile is
this time
self-speaking sufficient
and
there is no need
to reach for words*
~~~
9:03am
The Sabbath
1-15-16
nyc
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
Do you remember the times spent sprawled across your bed
when we never noticed or cared when the sun had set
how you'd trace patterns into my shoulders
and I'd pretend to fall asleep;
anything to memorize how it felt between your sheets.
I miss the fire in your eyes when you craved my flesh
I miss your unforced smile, the scent of cigarette on your breath
it feels like weeks have gone by since I last felt your kiss
I guess it's the life in you, that's what I miss.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
Wakes me up; strengthens my bones
This early morning sky almost makes summer feel like winter once again.
Unforced smiles; finally, some fresh air to breathe all on my own, in such a rare and quiet solitude.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
If music is love expressed, then how will my song play?
Will each phrase be smooth with content or broken by loss?
Will the notes be frantic and panicked, like my searching heart once was?
Or steady and certain, as my head is now?
Will the hands on the keys be shaking and cold?
Or free from fear and dancing in confidence?
How many voices will join the ensemble?
And for fleeting moments or prolonged duets?
Will I keep moving forward with driving rhythms?
Or pull everything back and take a more leisurely pace?
Maybe there will be a turning point, when dark becomes light, or when shadows grow stronger still.
Or perhaps a gentle fade, as each perfect harmony wears away at my soul.
Whether the music rises or falls does not concern me, however.
For the beauty of music is not in the highest note or the hardest bar.
It is in the reason behind every dot on the page.
And In the end there is no point in music for the sake of music, just as there is little point in love for the sake of romance.
I know there will be moments of unsure dissonance and outright clashes that were never meant to be.
But I'm hopeful, that in the same way as in music, eventually all will be resolved.
So I hope not for drama, but an unforced and natural conclusion:
A perfect cadence.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
The heart chakra
(The door!)
..
The breath
Slow and steady unforced
.
Image of a "roadWAY appear
Going both ways thru the door
--
Pilgrims and saints
Moving both ways thru
the door
///////
The light from above shines down
From below
Sounds and scent of water
--
Mothers fathers
Sisters brothers
Entwined by the mysterious power
---
Create and decay
Nurture and devour
But somehow surviving
Going somewhere
--
And lo!
You appear
.
We get on the D-train
And go down town
-
What shall we do there?
YES YES
What we shall do there
-----
Under the stars
While the Song plays
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 2:38 PM UTC
The memories hurt,
The memories will never fade,
They stick to my head like bubblegum,
They creep in my loneliest moments and torture my soul.
I hate you for doing this to me.
Why did you make me love you so deep?
Why did you show me you cared?
You shouldn't have spent 3 A.M summer nights talking to me,
Maybe then you wouldn't have known my real self,
you wouldn't have been able to reveal my weakness.
Unforced happiness,
The connection between us,
The grip of your hand when i was unsure,
The look of admiration in your eyes when i stared at you,
I saw my reflection behind those hazel eyes,
I saw the way you saw me,
My fingers tangled up into yours perfectly;
It was like it was meant to be.
You left me empty handed, unsure of who i was anymore,
My favorite summer memory,
My favorite Hello,
You made me feel whole;
yet so empty.
You were the best, and worst thing that has ever happened to me.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC