"unhampered" poems
Sweet gentle daughter of dreaming blue eyes
Reflecting visions from some distant sphere;
Untainted by nightmares of icy fear,
Nor saddened yet by fate's mocking disguise.
Unopened book of fickle tomorrow,
Not certain of how future may unfold,
With hours of lead or hours of molten gold;
Unenlightened yet by unknown sorrow.
Sands rush through the hourglass of wasted years,
While breaking our young hearts with shattered dreams.
The clock of life wrings disappointed tears,
Unhampered by our plans and clever schemes.
Beware grim reaper swinging ***** blade
Who mocks thee as childhood days slowly fade.
~Hilda~
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
I hear a wind whispering from the hills
It comes down tickling the woodland rills
From far is heard the frightened murmur of leaves
As it pounces on them like wayside thieves
It shakes the branches of flowering trees
And their weak petals drop like confetti in the breeze
Over hills and trees it loves to skip and stray
Always in motion, never inclined to stay
It moves unhampered over streams and field
With no resistance to its might, they simply yield
Like a child, it romps over the sloppy meadows
In its gentle touch, dances the gleeful flowers
It skillfully pleats the blue chiffon of the ocean
Sometimes curling waves in electric motion
Over the sea it runs puffing up the sails
And over the sky heaping clouds in bales
Sometimes it steals furtively like a lover
And disappears kissing our cheeks under cover
Often it comes capering with a lilt and a swing
We feel delighted when we hear its merry song
Like a nomad, the wind roams from place to place,
Hiding its mysterious presence from our glance
From an unknown hide out it comes like a spirit
But always making us feel its vigorous might!
At times it gains force and roars like a beast
Felling trees and wreaking havoc with its twist
In rampage, it sweeps the sea and the ground
Triggering sparks of fear and horror all around
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
Workingmen believed
He busted trusts,
And put his picture in their windows.
"What he'd have done in France!"
They said.
Perhaps he would--
He could have died
Perhaps,
Though generals rarely die except in bed,
As he did finally.
And all the legends that he started in his life
Live on and prosper,
Unhampered now by his existence.
4k
Ever untouched by prying eyes
Your incandescence knows no price
No quantity of gold could wager
Your glimmering translucency
For beauty sits through frosted glass
It knows no mirror image
In sunny spells it lights the way
Just possible to distinguish
At night it sits upon the lake
Which ruminates inside your head
To change you but remain unchanged
To glow when couples wed
You are the anthropomorphism
Of waves on a summers day
You are the moment two opposing
Paths conjoin in harmony
In the instance your cover’s blown
Your reflection sits untampered
For that instant your delicate soul
Lies naked, conserved, unhampered
For all of this I sit in awe
As viscous silver streams
Carve channels at your feet
Ejecting precious molten metals
Which ignite with scorching heat
I find the strength to sit up
Then rise up onto my knees
Put out your hand and pull me up
I feel so deeply of your beauty
I cannot help but smile
When I think of your gift to me
It strikes me that time has passed
Since the sun shone to illuminate
Just how grateful I am to have an
Opposing path through frosted glass
A flower to my unkempt leaves.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
I sit quietly by myself
and let your features drift through my mind,
let the thrill of recollection
stimulate my eyes to wrinkle
in a slow and happy smile.
The warmth of intimacy remembered
causes a searing red response
to my glowing personage.
Drenched with pusating happiness
am I at having shared so much,
in so short a time,
four days of the happiest Easter that I can recall.
My expression fails me
in my urgent need to tell you
of the excruciating love
you cause me so easily.
I am consumed with the most intense feelings
of sensitive , sweet longing.
Christine, this hurts me so beautifully.
My fancy runs to a grassy glade
splashed with deep green shade
and warm April sunshine;
excited children splash amid the stones
of a bubbling creek
and shreik with delight
in their careless fun.
To us, scintillating sights and sounds,
a spiritual bond of unhampered, happy humanity
and a grassy sunlit swath of beauty.
Together we sit and warmly enjoy
the conciousness of each others nearness.
Smile on my man
for you are loved
by one who, in all truth,
deserves a Prince.
Amble off to bed my friend
for you are tired and happy.
Dream of her
and remember when
In a moment of love,
she did softly whisper
“Happy Birthday my Darling”
And, as I recall,
your heart almost burst.
Marshalg
Albury
9th April 1969
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 9:10 PM UTC
The lights were artificial
the room was yet alive
it was cold, though the window was closed
the wind blowing outside mercilessly cried.
His memories lay garbled
as for misery, there was none
he had no company for a long time
and with despair he was done.
The familiarity of others had worn off
the extrovert had died along the way
his conscience seemed to fade and fade
till it was just a stream in his wake.
Running away from what he didn't know
laying waste, everything left was broke
it caught up to him, it was so slow
he found a friend in that haze of smoke.
Days started to pass by ever so fast
the window remained closed for good
the wind beat down at it every night
unhampered by it all, he stood.
Looking around in that pale light
the warmth had left him a long time ago
smiling at his own ****** plight
his friendship with loneliness began to grow.
Deeper and deeper he went into it
till there was nothing, not even light
he had burned his cigarette, blown smoke in the air
he battled with life and had won that fight.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 10:26 PM UTC
I fly eternally, without wings.
I have scoured this massive azure expanse ,for a century. I have fallen, I have broken, I have recovered ,and I still fly.
I gather tell from the winds, my wisdom, from the shadows, my refuge behind the sun.
I have spun, and I have been dizzy, I have dived and been exhilarated.
I sleep upon the clouds, yet I watch forever.
Storms do not trouble me ,rain does not quench me.I stay aloft and roam unhampered.
I see everything
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
Loving as an art form,
Brushes briskly bold and brash,
Transforms a blank canvas.
Its palette paints passion:
gleaming pinks, reds, then purples,
busily spilling onto the work of art.
From a hint of ****** flush
Follows a touch of blush
Leads into a flaunting of flesh
making nerve endings bristle.
While brushing aside dissimilarities
the imagery develops and disseminates.
As every dab and pat matters
Each patterns into something more than before
Strokes stoke the hues of emergence
Always colorful; never dull
Some shades of black and blues
Yet nothing's black and white
Turning some effects into silver
Others into golden memories
If open to influence beyond our minds,
Unhampered by concern or lacking confidence,
Each wave of the wand
Becomes uninhibited love energy.
While not always spotting the depth and the dimensions,
Our personalities coat our panoramas;
Our characters create our landscapes;
Our creations captivate our souls.
As child-like freedom promises,
A natural state of love and joy emerges.
Loving as an art forms
our dynamic duo.
Whether using oils or watercolors,
It manifests into wanting words.
It’s marked into body lanquaging,
Revealing tears and smiles,
Pleasures and plea-sings,
Triggers and treats,
Revelations and reveal-ations,
Understandings and underlyings
Fostering flow and creative sap
Loving becomes poetic portraits.
Breathing and exhaling
Expanding and exploring
Stimulating and stirring
Romancing the stone
Reflecting the pool
Remembering the rules
Two souls singing their tunes
Harmonizing
Mostly action and reaction
Give and take
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
I wanna take it back
to ‘99
When my best friend was all that mattered
and the future we dreamt about
under the effect of minds altered
was tantamount to our freedom
to roam and ride ***** through the streets of silk city
When an unhampered day felt like
the beginning of time
and walks through east side park
evoked a natural high--
because I had no business holding hands
with the boy from the other side
of the tracks
Stacks
Of opportunity
Not yet known and unwasted
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 10:00 AM UTC
I would trade the thrill of one million explosions
to see you find your smile for more than a minute.
Even for the revolution, or some convoluted invention
of peace, I would sacrifice it for your chance of oxygen;
to breathe amongst autumn leaves
and orchestras, bringing sound to your afternoon walks.
There must be coastlines or hill-sides to walk on,
beyond the traffic roar of peak-time tourists.
All in time, or out-of-time, I would forsake the freedom
of some distant land of people,
if it ensured me a date when I would hear your voice
as you recited your short-hand in a meeting of the minds.
I know that vinyl scratches over time, but at least
the melody stays unhampered; only nuanced in lectures
on how not to set the dial, how not to play Scrabble
in darkness. I suppose you are gone from me now,
with tasteless luncheons
and a lack of real punctuation to your long days inside.
Miranda felt for the light-switch after stumbling through
the hall. You heard her snorting in the bathroom
and crying over the phone to a dealer who promised love.
We were all hooked from the start, over the thought
of cardboard boxes and dogs,
yet were left howling at reality and superstitious woe.
Did you see her pass the ice-giant? Stuck to a cold heart
for life; until a meteor passes in her direction,
or until the Sun burns out.
Did you see her circling Neptune in REM sleep,
or else faltering in her tobacco pouch for papers;
a way to set flame to those consequential reminders
of a lover long left to a misery of doubt.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
silently puppeteering,
ceaselessly poised under our noses and over our heads,
most visible when crawling by,
and too often moving much too fast.
time is an imposing figure,
intimidating and all too present.
yet it is also just the ticking of a clock,
seconds between minutes,
minutes between hours.
clouds slowly drifting across the sky,
the rising of the sun and moon,
generous and unhampered.
and is it fair to give it our burdens?
to use it as a pocket in which we neatly tuck away our problems?
time is not our enemy,
but neither is it our friend.
we ask it to heal all wounds
but time has no cures and no sympathy.
time has no intentions.
and so we ponder and debate and ask it for favors,
and time watches and says nothing.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
Your touch, setting fireworks off under my skin at even the slightest graze of your fingers. The touch that gives me goosebumps and causing my heart too speed up. Beating in my chest harder than a jack hammer, I look her in the eyes and see pure beauty unhampered. I see a set of eyes i could gaze into and get lost in for lifetimes. A dual pair of eyes deeper than any cavern in the sea or in the ocean, this emotion coursing through my blood causing a great commotion. Oh wait, oh god her lips just brushed so very softly against mine, I am pretty sure my heart checked out and has left my chest now. I lean in, passion filling the air, lips locking in a soulful embrace, I brace myself by putting my hands along her waist and I swear to all the angels above she cuddled closer to my chest and abdomen. After what feels like hours, what I so very much want to be hours, we pull away into a locked embrace, my arms going around her in a protective way. Nobody touches my baby when she's in my arms, nobody touches my baby without getting a broken arm.
I Fell In Love.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 6:03 AM UTC
Unhampered velocity, flow of continuity
Selected autonomy, explore your philosophy
Treaded geography, to grasp empathically
Of no ambiguity, to reason amicably
Of no accord, nonsensical
The freedom just to be
Desire ambitiously, of difference unusually
Give access academically, promotions periodically
Acts of kind sporadically, improvise remarkably
Caring sentimentally, peacefulness tranquillity
Of one accord intentional
The freedom to be me
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 3:06 PM UTC