Best Detaching Poems
When imbalance of life churns hapless poignancy
And the zephyr of inequities breezes melancholy
Dissonance reverberates echoing pathos of grief
Seeking exaltation within metaphysical profundity
As hushed posture conjures up humbling catharsis,
Leaning in quietude, questing paranormal vitality,
Liberating from bounds of mundane, the ordinary,
Energizing calming bliss of unfamiliar, extrasensory.
Mortal soul steadily crosses limits of understanding
Reaching deep into unknown, unexplored territory,
Daring to search for knowledge in mystical obscurity
Pursuing enlightenment from supernatural intrigue,
Discovering newfound acuity blossoming internally
Adulating freedom of shedding narrow boundaries
Gaining divine wisdom, postulating own doctrines,
Comprehending missives in blissfulness of sagacity.
As laments mellow in teachings of superior intellect
And bawl of distraught soothes in heavenly solace
Finding ambrosial tranquility in endearing calmness,
Physiological longings amiably, peacefully dissipate
And gradually soul enlightens, unafraid of mortality,
Yearning for permanence of purposeful inviolability,
Meaningful beyond self, detaching from materiality,
Synchronizing harmoniously in idyllic, placid sanctity.
January 21, 2022
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Transcendence
Beauty and the Beast
In the deep core of her skin
I feel a human who is no saint
Cutting out her heart, ripping everything to shreds
Leaving my prey gutless, in every form of sin (HUSBAND)
Watch the last beat of her heart as I slowly slaughter your (WIFE)
Thank you for participating as I slowly kill her in every way
Stripping her down, enjoying her birthday suit
Watch as I slice her throat,
enjoy the color red pumping out her neck
She gasp, she gulps on her blood
Gently I reach in and remove her silent tongue
I devour her deepness, for all the beauty you mistook
Detaching all her limbs before she gave God her grace
I gave her no pity while she gave one last breath
Look at the empty emotions I left behind in her eye
Staring right back, as I pound a new cavity in her chest
Laughing at her brutal cry!
Confessing, it was time to satisfy the demons within
Chuckle at the thought, how beauty up and left
Trapped by God's given darkness,
Depressing abyss no one will miss
Her mind such a waste, a hunger she left behind only I can taste
Her eyes, I will cut and burn, for allowing him to blind her way-
Her red plum lips, I have sewn shut, for never speaking up-
Her tongue I swallowed completely
I could not stand the crying of the soon to be slaughtered sheep
Bathing naked in her guts for not defending herself
Plunging out her spine, pricking my finger on her hip
My blood gushing out thick while hers flows thin
Analyzing while mutilating, myself reflected twin
A mistake was to lurk, trapping the beauty within
Putting her in a coffin, knowing this will dry up the tears
I'm holding up a guard with an unbreakable shell
My prisoner in this body of lust, forgetting the meaning of hell
The women inside is dead, I murdered her long ago
The front I put upon is colder than snow
How can I let her find her Beauty-----------(WIFE)
When she still lives with the beast----------(HUSBAND)
I know her only secret,
That will give her life and brighten her glow
Give her a delicate rose and you will see!
The ugliness will melt, and reveal her true identity
*Thank you Beast,
*For reminding me what killed the Beauty
~5/20/2010~
Belly of the BEAST
In the dark mountain shadow
A fiery breeze coming from the East
Warmness is ripping up the sky
Hearing the sound of the Dragon Beast
Wings swimming in the air.
A sacrifice in motions
Hands wave in the air
Chanting and dancing
To the rhythm of a meal being prepared
Splitting flames above all shoulders
A virgin upon the master who stares
An event showered with a sacrifice
feeding the Beast with a virgin device
A Virgin so pure being prepared for the Beast
With sharp fangs that will feast on her innocent crest.
Clawing his grip upon her flesh
Away into the sky, as she took her last breath
In a distance the Dragon Beast, arrives in his domain
Detaching the virgins limbs, ready to steady his appetite
The beast devours into her tender and juicy meat
With a taste so sweet and ripe
Sinking his jaws in every bite
The fruit of the apple, did not full the dragons hunger
the virgin meat came with a foul taste of deceit.
Filled with an abysmal of rage
The beast set out to scavenge, the betrayal
With a heat that will send them all to their grave.
The broke vow of the virgin sweet tale.
Reveal the revenge how the dragon beast speared out.
His crackling fires upon all skin
Leaving a smell of brimstone to all who got in his way,
a hell he opened, with no mercy to pray
The Dragon Beast is one of the Devil's form of evil
In the battle of the Kingdom's last day.
By: P.D.
Exhaustion drips its weary head
Shrouding me with desolate apparel
A forlorn wardrobe of melancholy blues
Colors of emotional peril.
Indifference holds my body still
Unconcerned with the cold
Distant journeys in my thoughts
Apathy strong in its hold.
Nonchalance a steady companion
Detaching me from reality
Unaroused by what’s in front of me
I’ve lost all sense of vitality.
Inattention stands unyielding
Unwilling to make way for diligence
Insensitivity plants a seed
Growing strong in its militance.
Numbness gnaws away at my spirit
Paralyzed from its greed
Dulled by life’s anesthesia
I lack the passion to be freed.
Then one day, everything stopped
She no longer cared for things
Her vitality just dropped,
She no longer spread her wings.
Detaching herself from poems
Hundreds left unedited
Papers filled with dooms
The writer's dream forfeited.
Gone is her ultimate dream,
Gone are visions she wager
She once battled- made a name
Now vanished into thin air.
Her pen no longer bleeding,
Her thoughts no longer written
People were left wondering
Why she is no longer seen.
Her fave coffee turned so cold
Her fave books dusty, unread
Her stories remain untold
She finally succumbed- dead.
Kite-Surfer prepares for his thrilling ride
With double-checked gear, wades into the tide
Observer sits noticing all that’s around
And sees the direction where’s Kite-Surfer’s bound
Like an outgoing message that’s waiting to send
Kite-Surfer is patient, then catches the wind
Observer sits calmly beachside near the trees
From safe distance he knows more than Kite-Surfer sees
Soon, he in the water takes off like a flash
But direction of winds can never long last
Change in conditions, The Observer sees
From breeze on his face and the movement of trees
Kite-Surfer in wetsuit, armored head to toe
Cannot know direction of the next blow
And so he must catch the wind swiftly by feel
Attachment to moment seems all that is real
But never is able to choose any course
Like a passenger on a wild unbridled horse
And if judgement falters, momentum is lost
He sinks to his neck, failure could be the cost
When he’s low in the water, his only ambition:
To capture the wind and continue that mission
Watching bold Kite-Surfer safe from the beach
The Observer surely knows much they could teach
Vantage point lets Observer see mistakes
That Kite-Surfer made before leaving long wakes
The one who sits beachside, safely observing
Is totally void of all longing or yearning
Not caring which direction the wind blows
He watches Kite-Surfer like someone he knows
If you find yourself sunk, at the end of your rope
And the sky seems to fail you, one should not lose hope
Instead change your view
As if you’re outside you
And witness your actions like you’re far away:
A perspective-shifting game we can play
Detaching your ego, dissolving all fear,
Put yourself out there instead of being here
Seeing bigger picture can make one clairvoyant
Like Observer helping Kite-Surfer stay buoyant
"Regeneration 7"
The stories
like leaves
flew fast from
the Tree of Life
on each leaf
seeds dispersed
like memories
detaching, attaching
to others’ stories
breathing empathy
to walking dreams
the frisson shined
to still life
new life,
arrived;
regeneration
7
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Stef, born in New Zealand’s fine country,
Moved to Canada aged 4 with her parents,
Where she had a boating accident aged 9,
Which amputated her right foot for her life.
She’s married to fellow Paralympian fast,
Canadian wheelchair racer Brent Lakatos,
And they both train at Loughborough Uni,
Where there’s a plethora of sports facilities.
Stef graduated from good Queens University,
In Biochemistry with honours and at times,
Is a professional speaker, a fashion model,
And lay preacher of the gospel and the way.
Before the accident Stephanie played rugby,
But afterwards she could not do this because,
Her prosthetic was at risk of detaching itself,
Mid-game and injuring near placed players.
So she went into track and field athletics,
Practised until she became sick and tired,
Which saw her make the 2008 Paralympics,
In Beijing when she won gold for the sprint.
She graced the podium often at small meets,
In Manchester and in London. Christchurch
Saw her flourish when she won two bronzes:
One for the long jump and one for the 200m.
In Swansea at the European games in 2014,
Stef took home for the T44 long jump a gold,
And in the London Paras which introduced,
So many to disability sport, she won a silver.
In Rio she won another silver, on the mark
For TeamGB. She hasn’t always represented,
Britain because when she was much younger,
She competed for Canada’s rocky territory.
Big white clock is bored
With the uniformity of time
Flowing unnoticeably every day
Always the same tedious way
The clock has been sitting there
From the dawn of the time
Meticulously marking steps of
Hours minutes, and seconds
Till it could no longer bear
The meaningless existence
Of being a humdrum machine
One day the clock decided to try
Something a little bit different
A tiny experiment of stretching
Its' frame to right which resulted
In arrow of seconds slowing down
Then bending sharp to the left
The arrow of minutes jumped up
Clock excitedly slid down fast
Speeding up hourly flow of time
Then lazily went back to primal
Initial smooth fixed steady pace
Bringing time flow back to
Normal rhythm of the day
But now the clock felt inspired
So it tried to wrinkle the frame
Excitedly flipping upside down
Which resulted in unexpected flow
Of time acquiring velocity of its own
Detaching itself from the constant
Existence of space and swiftly
Rolling down the edge of a cliff
Clock fell into the dark precipice
Opening the heavy infinity doors
Where the clock hasn’t been before
In the pitch darkness it felt lost
Trying to catch the evading time
With the arrows arms like spread
Flapping through empty space
But time was evading the clock
Excited and free it mischievously
Played spellbound hide and seek
With the desperate clumsy clock
Which felt confused and scared
The world felt hopelessly lost
For the lonely terrified clock
The clock could no longer grasp
The wholesome consistency of time
Which was racing in its own speed
In infinite universe so the clock
Had to find out the way to catch
The time and make it uniform again
Feeling guilty of such a foolish attempt
To test things that should not have
Been controlled and questioned
Deeply repenting crooked clock
Tried to get back to its original form
Restoring smooth round shape
Straightening three bent black arrows
Tuning seconds minutes and hours
Recovering the consistency of time
That always flies by in the same
Monotonous predictable way
The clock swore never to
Experiment ever again
Being just a humble guardian
Of time instead of
Trying to manipulate it
They told me ghost stories and about spooks,
and that not all was as simple as it looks;
I looked into a mirror but someone else looked back,
apparititions may be clever but they don't have the knack.
Of Earthly pursuits and detaching from celestial routes,
who used to be who or are they still the same?
hands were down by the side, let me out of here,
no worry - you're the one who should have the fear.
They sang:' I'm riding along on the crest of a wave,'
was it true that good fortune favoured the brave,
I deliver my chautauqua, does anyone understand?
Like the old days, spoken all over the land.
They preferred: 'Maybe I should have loved you more,'
didn't want anything new, that's what they'd asked for.
And then as time pass
I just sit and stare, sit and stare
Ruthlessly shoved out of the way like an object
And used whenever they please
Whenever they decide its time for the little doll to play.
But no more of the little doll
No more shoving and no more forcing
As the light clears out the shadows
I will clear what I feel and keep going.
I won’t abandon hope cause is the last thing to die
I will stop mourning over the cloths that block the sun from my path
Those cloths will burn with the fire of my ire
And my path will be cleared.
No more shoving away, no more using the little doll
No more little doll, not even their Muppet
Cause as god gave me free will I shall use it
I’ll clear my path and they might not see trace off me again
I’ll escape from this dungeon
I shall be free from this tempest
I shall be free from these chains that are attached right into my nerves
I shall not lose the nerve and not look back.
What if the incessant torture didn’t happen so many dark
times, but it’s unimaginable for you to comprehend isn’t it?
What if there wasn’t such violence against me, I wouldn’t have
bled on those I loved most while devastated in my poorest sorrow.
What if the sins they committed against me didn't happen I
could've led a life without inconsolable despair.
What if my father didn’t knock me down the stairs as he spat
his poison on me, leaving me in an insufferable existence.
What if my mom protected me from the cruelty and abuse,
or showed love, I wouldn’t have hung my head in shame.
What if the kids at school didn't shove me against the wall
shouting obscenities, I could've learned to make friends.
What if my peers didn’t cause heart wrenching pain in my
teenage years, I wouldn’t have thought about ending my life.
What if that female relative didn’t kick me in the stomach,
laughing as I vomited and collapsed, I could’ve trusted woman.
What if the other female relative’s drunken boyfriend didn’t kick
me in the eye detaching my retina, I could’ve had faith in family.
What if anyone cared, after hit and run, I dragged my body and
leg cast across the floors tending to my needs, feeling utter ruin.
What if I was treated humanely in that rented room instead the
landlord locked the bathroom forcing me to go in a garbage can.
What if, my employer showed kindness as I arrived with black eyes,
instead of forcing me to work where everyone could see my shame.
What if that employer tried to help me when a car struck me, altering
my body, limping into work with a full leg cast, instead they fired me.
Despite their disgraceful abuse, I'm hopeful I can bring healing
to the demoralized by my charitable works and unconditional love.
What if these ruthless people didn’t destroy me; I could’ve been
a strong Advocate on behalf of Victims of Abuse and Persecution.
What if my words can lift up another broken person, by bringing
them the slightest hope that God will lead them to safety.
Still, though, I implore God to show His mercy and kindness
while raising me up out of this hell so I can finally be at peace.
At the confluence stands the sage
Directing traffic of divine centuries,
Gluons, microns, universes and the laughter bird
The laughter bird is afloat, his wings
Drip cold and soothing fractals
Morphed out of innocent play
And the desire for play
Small, large, star shaped, flower petalled fractals
Keep falling like snowflakes through my lazy evening
Portals that were wide open throughout the long
And dazzling day
And played welcome to ten trillion suns
Detaching each from other at lightning speed
From mother broth, carrying heat and
Light, riding the swift shuttle of invisibility
To arrive at my portals, and alight
Joining other streaming suns throughout
My long long day
Vespers, now
Now the old doorkeeper
Is pulling the portals shut, and Night
The Vedic Night, the Night for whom the
Hymns of succour and supplication are sung
To protect us from fierce tigers, and the
Country wolf, succour for me and mine
And those who dwell in ancient hamlets, those
That stand guard on moonlit fields in winter,
Birds with beaks dipping in warm and furry feather high up on the trees of night,
And the shadowy corners of our minds, also
The deep deep well inside where innocent
And sultry Semite lasses draw water for Job,
Or Jacob, or Jesus, or simply me
There, for that, but for that,
We were the flying caravan of white on blue
Flying, flying, flying endlessly
Lest we were caught by soft and welcome hands
Of the bubbling laughter of Eternity.
Una or Death, Life: 43, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel's Una ou la mort, la vie: 43 by T. Wignesan
As they used to say and keep saying still
Nobody ever takes poetry seriously
They would like to say that after a long life
You have provided us always with verse so pretty
Others laugh in the deep of their caverns
While he’s outside knowing well that in broad daylight
The most beautiful songs are of no importance
Simple and massive like an air-vent on the horizon
Blue over blue (not to see this colour play of the blind)
He cultivates his solitude in the midst
Of that crowd and of which he’s a part detaching himself
Like a mountain through which the surrounding lowlands
breathe.
* According to Anne-Sophie Constant, Una ou la mort, la vie (first book in Livre de l’homme et de la femme, just as the other two books in the trilogy : Duel and L’Autre, all in twelve lines), the poems are untitled, but numbered.
(Una ou la mort, la vie, O. C. t. II, p. 754)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Why, does existing have to be
burdensome. My mortal thoughts flee
like rain drumming at my window,
then trickles releasing a dam
leaving me brittle to exam
my own conscious; what do I know.
Surpassing life hopes as I winch
loneliness devours inch by inch.
My lips quake and swell at my low
detaching my dying cinder.
I can't take another winter
confronted with the ebb and flow,
not being able to foresee
mental skills decline as I grow
old and suppose to comfort me.
6/12/2018