Best Uncrossed Poems
As we age we regret words of anger and spite
That were heard and remembered and can't be unsaid.
The remarks we thought clever or proved we were right
That resulted in losses of friendships instead.
All the heartbreaks that came from suspicion and doubt,
The betrayals and hurts we refuse to forgive,
The companions and love that our pride has cast out,
And the chances we missed that we'd like to relive.
All the pathways not taken and bridges uncrossed,
All the times had we acted, a difference made,
The potential delights that timidity lost,
And the kindness and debts that we never repaid.
All the secret dishonors we long to forget,
And the wrongs we inflicted in order to win.
For the strongest of sorrows are those of regret,
And the saddest remembrance is what might have been.
* * * * *
Or as Whittier phrased it, far finer and first:
"For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
the saddest are these: It might have been"
lasting...
all through your life, dear child,
the following crucial life lessons...
let go of the things
you cannot change;
all things beyond your control.
the past lies decayed
in your rearview mirror.
don't look back!
never mind
that "T" left uncrossed,
that "I" without a dot on top;
all the wrongs not righted.
don't look back!
never mind
what you regretfully did,
what was done to you,
what opportunities you missed.
focus on the present
and mine diamonds out of it.
don't dwell
on mistakes you've made;
they're supposed to be made.
do not lose sleep
the over opinions of others.
you have no control
over how people perceive you;
do not lose sleep!
let it go...
look forward.
the future awaits you.
you can never predict
what it has in store.
there's no telling
how the order of things will go,
how moments, events;
life, in general, will play out.
look forward nevertheless!
just keep busy living,
breathing, and let
the unchangeables all go.
Poem of the week on 03/18/2023
Writing Challenge - L words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme chosen: Lasting
Date written: 03/14/2023
A sigh--
as strong as the
rivers' flow,
where dark pain
forces the flower.
Oh! To sleep through sound
and uncrossed
dreams.
My mind groans
for the woman
just beneath
the great horn.
The years drop off sharply
into the river,
just beneath the bridge--
to flow back to the sea.
To evaporate and come at us from a different angle...
Next time?
melt with me against a toxic sunset of lust
light the burning candles
illuminate the red hot metal lanterns
dive naked into my arms raw
take of my flesh as i take of yours
lose ourselves one in the other
devour the creamy liquid of my origin
and i the nectar from your petal
wrap yourself in the flag of me
i too will fly your colors
let us wage a war of sex on one another
and leave no border uncrossed
The trees save our secrets in their leaves,
And the stars offer guidance to the lost.
Wear your heart on your lips, not your sleeves,
And walk with me, fingers uncrossed.
There is a silence before the fall—
not the absence of sound, but the heaviness of it,
thick as fog, as thick as the space between heartbeats,
when every thought crowds the same narrow room.
The choice has settled like a stone in the chest,
a weight pressing down harder than the world itself—
and yet, beneath that pressure, there is something else—
a flicker, faint and fragile,
like the last ember in a dying fire.
It may feel like the point of no return,
the line that once crossed cannot be uncrossed,
the moment that closes every door behind you—
and sometimes, it is exactly that.
But even when the path feels final and absolute,
the human spirit is not so easily confined.
It is messy, unpredictable, stubborn—
it can bend and stretch,
sometimes shatter,
and sometimes, quietly, begin again.
In this moment where hope seems hollow,
remember that life is not only measured
by the sum of its victories or defeats,
but by the quiet breaths taken against the storm.
There is no shame in standing here,
in the shadow of unbearable pain—
because pain is proof of living,
proof of the heart’s relentless beating.
You may feel broken beyond repair,
but even broken things can catch the light—
fractured glass becomes a prism,
shattering the darkness into colours.
If you have arrived at this point,
know you are not alone in the stillness.
Others have stood where you stand,
felt the same weight,
and found a way to carry it differently.
This is not a call to pretend the pain is gone,
or to erase what feels unbearable.
It is an invitation to recognise
that the story isn’t over—
that the next page might be the one you cannot yet imagine.
You are here, alive—
and in that fact alone
is a powerful reason to hold on.
Because even the smallest flicker,
the softest whisper of breath,
can be the start of something
you never thought possible.
"Buddy Breathing"
Ten leagues below
the bed of the ocean in my heart,
strange creatures exist,
they guard the gate
of all things that
have past
the sound of their existence
is strange music for strange creatures,
words are not written, nor are they spoken,
mute hearts bleeding and eyes wide open
masks are worn down here, like soft harlequins
glistening sharp diamonds
they carry forgotten meanings in ever resilient silence,
the trick in the eyes is not to open;
we somehow breathe down here
it’s called buddy breathing.
we try to think of the poetry
in life, remembering the bliss
in our purposeful being,
the oxygen bubbles God bless,
sometimes rise to the surface;
we like to think we are all friends;
some immortalise us
while we die from the bends.
we prayer for miracles
like the 2nd coming
sweet kisses
sharks teeth
colophons
and unblessed
un-nun-like
sisters
Candide Diderot. ‘25
"Swiftly walk over the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Which make thee terrible and dear, —
Swift be thy flight!"
(Percy Bysshe Shelley)
****
"I’m blowing further away
This storm is gaining force
Now it’s tripping the waves
How can I test this water
The stars have their say
I shouldn’t admit this but
My heart starts to stray
I’ve tasted white light
Willows weeping
I’ve tasted love songs
Angels sleeping
Fever's breaking
Wild waves
Leaves are raking
I pray to the Saint of all that’s lost
And in the finding curse uncrossed
Wait for the sun to come undone
Signalling me
Out to sea
I’ve tasted Saturn
Seagulls screaming
I’ve tasted shotguns
Apostles dreaming
Fever's breaking
Wild waves
Legs are shaking
I pray to the Saint of all that’s lost
And in the finding curse uncrossed
Wait for the sun to come undone
Signalling me
Out to sea
Out to sea"
(Elysian Fields, "Out to Sea")
MY SUN~~~
Like the sun
against the day sky.
Releasing unrestrained light!
Diluting your daily sphere
that repulse
my intellectual needs.
Take Death into my desert
dumping you a side.
Uncrossed boundaries that multiply
concealing your eyes of beauty
from the world.
Never embracing eternity.
Like an atomic emerging
all elements of coincidence
destroying all
forms of life's way.
The nectar that flows
ruining every thing we dream of.
~~~~
Implanted with
dilutions of all the ugliness
that refrains
unmerciful ways
disconnecting
every stop,
conceived in the open.
Slicing through
exposure
that binds devotion
to the negative of dark.
Like the sun
that hits the ground.
Blinding every straight look
with the perception you preach!
By;p.d.
for Nate D. opposite of His (My Moon) poem..
When meanings have been broken,
When your cross has been uncrossed,
When the reasons that you gave me,
In the labyrinth have been lost.
When your house has been emptied,
When your bedroom is swept clean,
I will come and wake you,
From your long and endless dream.
more at http://labyrinthoflies.com
antidepressant
black death
heart rattle
against bone cage
trapped in a chemical labyrinth
smothered in a shawl mind haze
living tears dried, lost
not cried
spark fried
brain wires uncrossed.
but life
lost.
Hear the untold song we sing at any cost,
Though the crowd may laugh and children, jeer:
Through the parting clouds, lascivious angels leer,
Till a fall from heaven spells their holocaust.
Sing the unsung tale of dirty angels lost,
Licking off our faces the salt of our dry tears,
Our bloodshot eyes shut tight behind our fears
That our guiding stars will never come uncrossed.
Now our yellowed ledger shows a settled score,
But devils from the past gnaw on our souls,
And ghosts that we have wronged come to the fore
Of our fading memory, riddled with holes.
Because we are quickly rotting to the core,
We do not grieve at all when the grim bell tolls.
POEMS THAT MAKE NO SENSE (1)
another kind of pink
bothers me
a blue razor rusting
in my throat
black backboned
unbendable
blend meanings into
leafy greens
uncrossed white iced
particles
melt into hazy faded
greys
gold threads of barbwire
silver
groan purple through
mauve moans
red blood rivulets
seep deep to
their feet
splashing beats on
soiled brown musty
sheets
in
defeat
© Kim van Breda—7 October 2015
Hate
As a child I was taught to forgive
In my family hate was a bad word
I took it all in
Sometimes forgiving too easily
Yet here I am
Hurting more than I can say
Because in my heart is
Hate
I was always told that hate hurts the hater
More than the one who is hated
Maybe they are right
But what do you do when someone you love
Betrays you in so many ways
In just one day
When they cross a line that can’t be uncrossed
Even puts your well being in jeopardy
And the first thing you feel
After the shock is
Hate
I was told to sleep on it and I might feel
Different in the morning
Morning came
And the feeling is stronger
Not better
And as the day has passed
I feel as if my heart is about to explode
With all this
Hate
I am trying so hard
To rationalize
Turn this feeling around
Yet for every reason to forgive
A reason to not comes up too
The trust is all gone
My heart feels shattered
I feel like a fool
For ever trying to mend
The relationship
We never really had
I know it isn’t the Christian thing to do
But I just don’t feel that I
Can ever forgive her
Not this time
Not ever
There is too much bad blood between us
Now there is
Hate
By blood she is my mother
But that is where it ends
Because yesterday
She messed with my well being
My sanity
My life
She put me in-between a rock and a hard place
& I realized
That as much as I have always
Wanted her to love me
There has never been anything there
So now it is time to move on
Give up trying
Because I just can’t bring myself to love her
Anymore
All I feel is
Hate
By: Jeanna York
10/20/2013
Asparagus shoots, tender, and green~ killed
By late winter's artic blast and hoar's frost
All that intensive work, tossed aside, lost
The natural world rode in so skilled
Though maybe there are some shoots like love's thrill
In poor soil, lies quietly hidden tossed
Like an uncultivated field with plow uncrossed
Once worked, planted its destiny fulfilled
Those darkened stems once contained hope
The promise everlasting that slowly faded
One hug, one kiss would be the saving grace
Stir asparagus, send up telescopes
Withered heart~ beat once again unaided
Fern fill the plate and flower vase
In school-days on poles
scratched the birds,
if they were even number
especially two
(Sometimes bonded sometimes
quarreled)
we kissed palm to lips to
utter good luck
if odd especially one,
friends touched
others to transfer 'bad
luck current pass',
(Perhaps ripe time for bird that
they are free from other
influence- in silence)
and those aware of the
wicked omen viewer had
two fingers cross
To guard 'if uncrossed'
communicable vibes
But after multitude years
of oscillating nuptail this
old man remembers
brathood,
what could have been as
lucky for bird or man as
gift of constant solitude?