Best Beens Poems


Within Reason- Maurice Yvonne and Seren Roberts

Within reason
lies a house full of ordinary
a chest of bland memories. 
 
                              You end up with
a pocketful of might have beens.
 
Within reason is five square feet of grass 
and the proverbial white picket fence,
nothing else.
 
                 The word 'important'
never makes it onto the page.

Nothing"within reason" was ever found
             that didn't already have its place. 
 
When u abandon
                   Reason
you also abandon
        Impossibilities. 
                the brother of reason
The one needs the other
                   two heads of the same dragon.
One breathing fire and brimstone
                  the other living without hope.
They never live separately
                         they are siamese twins.
The ying and yang of yesteryears.

They had a reason with a hint of possibility

They had something,
                  something maybe,
 at best something insignificant.

             But imagine what waits 
when you eliminate 'impossible.'

In the darkest dark
                                  within the scream of 'don’t',
       inside the insanity of abandoning reason 
                                                  it is there you'll find  
          that decaying flesh infested with worms
   it is there  where the round wheel was found. 
 
You use a black shovel 
             through the bone 
into the skull 
            through the brain 
along the heart 
                       into the gut. 
 
There  lies that fine line between insanity and genius
                                 but THERE is where you have to go. 
 
          To get there you abandon reason. 

 Abandon the dogma shoved down your 
                                 throats all these years.
 
Glide on the wild side.
                Show your body hair.
Expose your fangs.
                  Lights, camera, DANCE!
Categories: beens, life,
Form: Verse

Just Fingertips Apart

Each step I take along the way is more than I can endure
and every curve in the lonesome road becomes a detour
back to you because movin' on is somethin' I just can't do,
not if movin' on means no longer will I be with you

I can't explain what I hear when you don't say a thing
But my heart dances to every word of the songs you sing
I feel an ache so bittersweet when with a ragged breath
I whisper and you're not here. Juliet dies another death

I can't rewrite history, but if I could I'd steal time from stars
All I can do is pencil in, "I loved you" on pages of memoirs
When dying embers of us become ash without a spark
I'll be lost without love in my life, wandering in the dark

Emptiness is a painful emotion no dictionary can explain
A chorus of 'What could've beens' I'll echo in sad refrain.
But what can I possibly say to console my broken heart
when it realizes that we're no longer just fingertips apart?
Categories: beens, lost love,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Play

I've dreamed of things and might have beens
with hopes and love in back lot shadows.
Replaying these cold-heart wrenching scenes
that will bring no dawn to my tomarrows.

And as this play plays out each act,
my role fades from lead to second best.
Mere words no longer cause effect
to cure the faults of love's ill rest.

I pray to God, re-write these lines
that I might toss aside regrets
and bring the peace for which I pine
to a closing scene no one forgets.

I'll take no bows, of that I'm certain
as stage lights dim on this final curtain.
Categories: beens, love hurts, sad love,
Form: Sonnet

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Out Here, We Are Stars

Out here,
where time forgets its name
and distance wears no shoes,
a single atom dreams
of being seen.

A nebula breathes in slow creation—
a phosphorous wound
stitched by light,
spilling stars like secrets
never meant for mouths.

What lilt remains in the voice of the void?
Even silence has shape here—
serpentine,
a slither of ancient radiation
wrapping the bones of galaxies,
like a mother tucking in
what she cannot keep.

We call it space,
but it’s more:
a cascade of almosts,
of might-have-beens and never-weres,
falling endlessly
through a gravity
that remembers everything
but forgives nothing.

The lunar dust knows—
how soft it is to vanish,
how even your footprints
can outlive your breath.

And Earth, blue with burden,
floats like a question
we’ve stopped trying to answer—
spinning myths into maths,
naming fire with numbers,
hoping to out-code
the ache.

There is a myriad of ways to be alone.
But here,
in this tender, terrible expanse,
we are together
in our unknowing.

And maybe that
is enough
to make us stars.
Categories: beens, space,
Form: Free verse

Meander

A Renga for Poetry Soup:


Meander

Time and the river
Endless silver morning
Autumn leaves float by

Shimmering streaming mountains
Pines swaying in constant winds

Morning mirror
Another gray hair
Ah! the wind of time

Spring's last daffodil
Plucked for a dinner paty

Diamond blue fragments
Reflecting off stream waters
Another moonrise

Sunset colors disappear
Shooting stars

Campfire sparks
Fresh fish and conversation
Embracing shadows

How many friends have vanished?
Canyon echoes

Retirement time
Facing all the could-have-beens
Tears in whiskey

Quietly at the gravesite
For her long dead daughter

Rolling ocean waves
At the sunset horizon
A ship disappears

Dry pine needles underfoot
In the distance, tolling bells

The sound of a car
Approaching - disappearing
Sleepless night

Between the windowsill plants
A single moth, dry as dust

Cloud shrouded moon
Moire patterns fill the sky
Wandering ghosts

Great grandfather's photograph
Fading before my eyes

Dried flowers
Holding a spider's web
Sunrise

Children building sandcastles
The sound of waves and laughter

The old phonograph
A song from long ago
A shaft of dust-light

Sitting on a redwood stump
A logger counts his wages

Stopping to listen
An unknown bird's mournful song
Fern embroidery

Seeds on the wind drifting by
Tea kettle whistles

In the dazzling sunlight
Achingly white billow clouds
Ring of blue

A drone of mid-day falling
On the autumn wind meadow

A hawk ascending
Call of triumph echoing
A trout in her talons

Smoke from the hermit's cabin
No one remembers his name

Winter rain
The dry emerald brook
Resurrection

Waking from a flight filled dream
Facing the machine filled day

Watching the moon set
Chaotic starshine appears
Orion's embrace

Singing satellites sparkle
Between the winter branches

River of wonder
Filling the child's eyes
Christmas morning

Bright snow on the open field
Melting in the winter thaw

All that I can find
Of the homesteader's church --
The empty window frame

Spring breeze rustling the old tree
The sound of grass and lilacs

The old woman
Serves herself a cup of tea
With her memories

Forest boulder
April rain
© Jim Wilson  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: beens, lifeold, winter, sound, autumn,
Form: Verse

Premium Member One More Time

The voyage long, begun at dawn, and then
the winged beast of metal rolls wheels to ground,
loved ones, inside and out, bear only grins,
and recount old tales of "remember whens?"
The hours of waiting fast recede, unwound,
as passengers embrace their long lost kin,
they grab their bags, head toward waiting cars
with hope and faith, forget the "might have beens."
"Worth the wait?" said Gram, Gramp smiles without a sound.
His son beams at 'the wife' and passes round cigars.
The world is right and bright again.
Categories: beens, family,
Form: Curtal Sonnet


New City - Get Ready

Mama I want to be a star
I want to grace stages that host the world's revered faces
Fantasies shameless my pipe dreams contagious 
I want to be famous

Not one for fictional frivolity
I speak of what's in front of me
A new city called Poetry, 
I watched as the has-beens soaked their dreams in sewage streams
Unphased by rodent plagues 
These ones embrace their own rat race
I still try to navigate the avenues
Negotiate the ones and twos and find a way to tell the truth 
 

Young and unstable I stumble in the giant footprints of those who stood before me
Tip toe  on verbal terrain as desperately I pray the weight of immaturity won't bury me, 
Admittedly this spoken world is new to me 

-But- 

Is it possible in any way the gift of verse will carry me? 
 
I see me breaking grounds, earth shattering and in my dreams these words resound
I'll turn cacophony into somewhat of a sacred sound
I want to craft phrases that serenade, deliver sweet-somethings that emancipate
I want, in some way to bring meaning to confusion 
Dear world of poetry
Sometimes when they're floored I'm in awe of how my flow's flawless, I  hear applause no pauses, waving arms and stinging palms bear tribute to those timeless charms, classic tales still bent with intent to succumb to new pens

Pave way for insecurity
For fear of gift escaping me
See I fail to write when I'm  trying to
I get it right with no intention to
Am I...within my right to claim potential true?
Tear ink off her hinges, her blue ball point cringes
Left hand in debt
My blank page bereft

But in the back of my mind
I see standing ovations and soul drenched invasions..
I want to pierce every being I encounter, 
I want to penetrate faith, tear doubt asunder,
Let me to speak to the  valleys
negotiate peaks and make friends with epitome
I want to part oceans and in the grips of my  - pause   -   tempt emotions,

mold momentum to set in motion the wheels of adoption so that poetry.....may adapt herself for me  

I want to write poetry, I want to speak 
I want to reach within,
 pen something...
 A remote reflection of her 
This...this brand new city
I present this piece as fantasy
 when in all reality
I do hope she's  prepared for me
Categories: beens, art, career, character,
Form:

Nearing the Finish Line

As the might-have-beens get smaller
And the what-the-hecks get taller
Life gets sweeter.
What a beater,
Death looms, but ya wanna stall'er
Categories: beens, life,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Between the Stingers

Trust, like a pitiless whore-master, grins
as between the sheets and at my breasts, he suckles.
Though Cupid lauds' the joy, I feel only stings.

The manic moon shivers to shriek-like violins
as trusting seed is split and son-less my knees buckle
mother-less street urchin blanched, impatient, sin.

In sympathy the sun pales night's mood swings
seeking to caress and hold with a fractured chuckle
love's exhausted, and misspent, ripened lingerings 

To the dying day and I, cry of might-have-beens
ivory white my ice hands, my bleeding knuckles
Trust like a pitiless whore-master grins
Though Cupid lauds' the joy, I feel only stings.
Categories: beens, lost love,
Form: Villanelle

Premium Member You Know I Loved You

Said I was stayin’ home today?
That used to mean lovin’ play?
But your look told me... you’re confused 

Then I went and said the words?
Shock was followed by the hurt?
Love doesn’t mean we always get to choose 

You know I loved you... please hear me 
You know I loved you... and I still care 
You know I loved you... forgive me?
But there’s no holdin’ onto love not there 

We’ve both grown our separate ways 
It happens a lot these days?
Tryin’ to heal scars with drink 

I hope someday we can be friends?
Once we get past the might have beens?
You can bet on love, but it’s never a sure thing 

You know I loved you... please hear me 
You know I loved you... and I still care 
You know I loved you... forgive me?
But there’s no holdin’ onto love not there 

There’s nothing you did, there’s nothing to change 
Sometimes love just slips away... 

You know I loved you... please hear me 
You know I loved you... and I still care 
You know I loved you... forgive me?
But there’s no holdin’ onto love not there
Categories: beens, forgiveness, i love you,
Form: Lyric

One Stitch At a Time

dedicated…
to this hurt
to this pain

until you
ask 
me
why?
I cannot explain

and I want
to tear my heart
OUT!
and show you
everything 
that I am..
not

the edges
frayed
tattered
because I let them
in
gave each of
them
the sharpest scissors

hoping for curled up edges
like
Christmas ribbon
instead 
I am unraveled
like your
favorite sweater

I want you to be 
angry…
I ruined your
hope
of perfection

just put me
in your keepsake 
box
with all the other
possibilities
the could-have-beens
the almost maybes

but
you offer 
me the most 
beautiful golden
thread..

fix yourself, you say

but I can’t sew
and I feel
useless
once 
again…

until 
you take my hand
in yours
and teach
me
..
.
One stitch 
at
A 
Time
Categories: beens, friendship, life, love, sad,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Pink Bundled

We’re welcoming our newest,
a little girl has come has come.
She’s sweeter than a melon
or a ripe and juicy plum

You’ll find her by her mommy’s side,
in pink from head to toe.
When she has rested just a bit 
she’ll be ready for her show.

She has a lot of long black hair.
This is a great surprise.
The wisdom of the ages
is showing in her eyes.

The world must seem so strange to her.
She’s handling it with aplomb.
She’s stolen all our hearts away,
a beauty like her mom. 

She is less than one day old,
and as I meet her gaze,
I wonder what it would be like
to have no yesterdays.

No sorrows and no sad regrets
and no what might have beens,
only her name upon the page
as her new life begins.



					
For Royal's "Pink Joy" contest
Categories: beens, color, daughter, family, happiness,
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member A Lightness of Hunger

is
what
what is...
what is what
is what is now...now...
all the whens and the might have beens...
a captivating time space wonderland called...the now...
a stability without hunger to consume and fill all from an emptiness void


stan sand
© Sand Blown  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: beens, allegory, analogy, appreciation,
Form: Fibonacci

Regrets -

I never liked the smell of lilacs although they were always
your favorite flower.
When did you stop bringing them home?  I never noticed, 
Wish I had.

I always thought walking through pine-scented woods was such
a bore, kicking leaves, how foolish I thought, and didn't
hesitate to tell you so...collect them for a fall bouquet, 
hell no! 
Wish I had.

How my memories haunt me now; I rejected your every whim, such
little things.
You wanting to build a snowman, I complained, 
'It's too cold for that', and how hurt you were when I wouldn't
wear that silly hat you bought for my birthday, from my favorite
store,
Wish I had.

I found an old letter today, stuffed deep in the pocket of your
old coat, the one I never liked, both smelling of lilacs.
The letter was penned in an unfamiliar hand.
Bits of crumbled leaves fell as I unfolded the pages of this, your private world.
Some words were faded by time and splotches of tears.
Yours? 
Hers?  
No matter!
Such gentle words, flowing sweet with love
like the music of a string quartet.
If only I had written those words that must have made you smile, 
mellowed your mood, touched your heart, but it's been so long
since I spoke to you of love.
Wish I had.

Sitting alone, lost in a turmoil of cluttered 'might have beens', 
the ring of the phone startles me; it's you, expressing your regret, 
you are going to be late again.
I wanted to ask you to bring lilacs home for the table I'd just
set, but I didn't!
But oh God!  I wish I had! 
I was always too proud to cry until now!
I wish I had! 
I wish I had!

Cynthia
Categories: beens, lost love, words,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member It's Not That Complicated

Why do we make things 
so complicated?Falling
for someone is a gift.Will 
your heart get broken?
maybe so but don't let 
that stop you.In time 
your broken heart will 
heal.We live in a im-
perfect world with im-
perfect people.Life is a 
beautiful dance we may 
slip and fall but we get
back up.For a chance 
to experience love I don't 
mind the bumps in the
road that may come along 
the way.I dare you to be bold
and not worry about the fear
of the unknown(heartache 
and fear).And say whatever 
happens will happen. Because
life's too short to think about 
what could have beens.
© Alexis Y.  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: beens, how i feel,
Form: Free verse
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