Best Unheard Poems
A very wise woman once said I must write just for me.
Let there be no other reason for e x p r e s s i n g my soul-
For I have l o n g e d for this passion to continue for eternity,
and at my worst is when my journal seems to be full.
LET my pen proclaim my adoration for only my heart-
Let my verses s c r e a m my insight for only my eyes to see.
If there are souls who would like to t e a r my words apart,
then I shall sit back and let it go calm and quietly.
No other can determine MY worth as a poetess,
I am who I am and happen to appreciate my benediction.
Tonight I will s o f t l y lay in bed and sincerely digress
on the meaning of what my QUILL bestows without restriction.
I may not be famous or hold a popular moment in the light,
I may not be the best at every l i t t l e thing that I do-
I can sure be stubborn and I’ll admit, not always right,
but s e r v i n g my internal purpose I shall ALWAYS continue.
My pen loves to rhyme and my parchment loves my pen.
I have become a woman with whom has great worth.
Then please tell me why I seem to get so upset when
I am condemned for what I WRITE when feeling mirth?
I am a child of God who pours sunshine upon every word I write,
though there may be others who don’t see the value in every word-
I will no longer be losing any more p e a c e f u l sleep at night,
and I will continue to write just for me, EVEN IF UNHEARD.
*Dedicated to a beautiful and wise poetess who taught me to write for myself. Thank you sweet lady...*
Original contest: Poem of the Day
Date Judged: April 25, 2019
Date written: September 19, 2016
For the contest, Writing Challenge 4, May 2019, No Placement Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
She could bring sunlight to the darkness
Warmth to the cold
Joy to the sorrowful
The inner child to the old
She had such a passion for life
Viewed through positive eyes
Not perfect by any means
She had lows and highs
After colliding with trauma ….she lost her way
Addictions mighty grip took hold
Desperate, alone and homeless
No more living a life of gold
“Help me” ,she managed to whisper
As she lay in pain and harm
Not a soul heard her desperate plea
As she died with a dirty needle in her arm
After a cacophony of ramblings,
day bows gently---
Infants slumber with ease in cradles,
lanterns flicker above tavern stools
as mellow winds drift around gold-hued roads
paving the way
for flights of quietude:
Somehow, mothers hush their loved ones
to tend angel dreams
before sunglow ascends… while elders pat
loyal dogs in tenements far from home:
And young girls close overused iPods,
widows reminisce; single fathers
unlock the fence, tired—
Somehow, heartbroken women lay
on empty chairs alone,
Lovers fondle sigh deeply relieved.
This is nightfall. Its language of voices
breathes through different tones,
climbing into our hearts
where we exhale syllabic pain and glory,
until robin-wings unravel our incantations
to liberate us against hidden wails.
~
For PD's Impress Me with an Old Poem (002) Contest
Written 12/2018 ,S.O.
Resubmitted 10/7/2020
Hello there, what is your name?
Do you like to play games?
What do you do for fun?
Play checkers, maybe run, Or dance, or just play?
I can’t remember a day.
Where I could run and play.
I don’t even remember my last meal.
Just rotten scraps and potato peels.
I don’t even know my name.
It really is a shame.
I’m just these digits.
That were painfully stitched,
Into my small arm.
I was born into a world of harm,
Pure insanity.
From which I couldn’t flee.
Mommy said it was because we were Jews you see.
And for some reason the Germans hated us,
All those soldiers did was beat and yell at us.
Then one day.
They took mommy away.
I looked for her.
Longed for her.
She was my only friend.
Then a soldier showed me her end.
One day when the smoke drifted by.
In the unbearable heat, of the unforgiving sky.
The stench was awful.
As it filled and swelled my small nostrils.
It smelled more than the corpses did.
All grimy and gross, as some of us slid
Them into the fire.
Their ashes flew up, higher… and higher,
Along with my mother they were free…Forever….
She was gone, forever….
The one I needed more than ever.
Now I, had to be clever.
I had to be smart.
To survive became an art.
A skill….
Some of us stole, some would kill.
For extra clothes, an extra meal,
No one should experience the pain we feel.
That we felt.
But we dealt,
With what we were given,
As we looked to our Ha’Shem in Heaven.
But the eight year old girl that you see,
Yes this is me.
Stripped naked from head to toe,
All my bones show,
Through my thin
Pale, unhealthy skin.
I’m horrible to look at I know.
But what I resemble, what I show.
Is what happens when certain people,
Become irrational, their ideas unreal.
All because of hate, and hate alone,
You are shown,
What no one wants to see.
The result of hatred, and the result is me
my friend I've met you in
the most peculiar way
I feel what you feel I cry
as though we speak.....
my friend your not alone
in this world I too have felt
the loneliness the fear..
one day life won't seem so
cold you'll see the wondrous
ways of human kind.......
crying so loud but a cry
that isn't heard in hearts
or oides of others...
shamefully I speak of remorse
and guilt as for me
a life altering journey...
A blade that cuts me open
doesn't leave a trace but grasping
for comfort it bleeds blood of sorrow
blood of death......
Holding my hand guiding me to a garden of roses,
He whispered , “spiral your way into the synthetics of voices and noises ,
Navigate through the patterns of Braille textures “,
I held his hand , to only feel the drips of his helplessness ,
Smiling softly as I gasped into the spring air ,
The softness of the fresh fragranced petals brushed against my fingers ,
Feeling the senses running through my veins more than he could ever begin to imagine ,,
If only he could see the light in my darkness ,
And hear the voices in my head ,
He would not give me the stares of confusion ,
True that , the mirror seems like nothing but just a word,
waking up to a receded eyesight could be every reason to bleed,
I found my comfort through the silence of colours ,
As my heart cried louder in the quiet stillness of the night,
The harmonies of the wind ,
The warmth of the sun and change of tides ,
Somehow the seasons seems to be more clearer in the shaded shadows,
I felt the pain in his tears trying to blend into the rain,
Indeed he could fool the ones with vision ,
For I am no stranger to the constant battles of dark revisions,
Though I felt his intricate precision ,
I held his chest only to hear his sighs and highs ,
I refused to surrender into the darkness of the blind,
Living in the creation of the world in my own mind
Stranded on an island
Talking to the birds
Welcome to my life
The life of the unheard
No one quite understands the way I feel
They know the fake me
Who knows the real?
There's the usual "How are you's?" said in haste
But people don't take the time to look you in the face
You fools think all is okay
But in my mind im far far away
Stranded on an island
Talking to the birds
Welcome to my life
The life of the unheard
You are all the same
Identical clones
Lost in media, music, and phones
Blind leading blind
Cold hearts, numb mind
Searching for things you'll never find
You fools think you're all okay
But in reality everyone is far far away
I know I have been on repeat for 15 years
I lost all my originality when I was sick and stolen from
My guess is it poured out along with my soul and fears
chasing after my sanity as it flowed away in tears
Its hard to come up with inspiration when your on pause
trying to justify the actions of those who love you
or at the very least come up with a justified cause
one they could of chases based on misinterpreting something they saw you say
or do
But best laid plans and lost causes your once dream life was taken from you
with nothing but a barely believable story that I can only take accountability
for not being strong enough to stay in the right when they made moves to take
my light and say it wasn't true
confused in the dark is not a reasonable place to figure out culpability.
The only thing I have left in me because I shed my soul daily I dont save up
because I cant promise all good every day so let it go good or bad send it
home
and start fresh the next day but I can't shed the memory of the darkness and
the way out it stays in me like a circuit loop in a conduit.
So I can travel in the darkness to shed light on those who stay there and
hope they find hope to search for light because follow me or you when its
their fight is not the best way.
all this said and I am still not right I no I may be meant for darkness to help
others overcome.
if thats true what all the pain to keep me here
so much inner strength it takes to just find a smile and a way to help others.
heal
when all I could been is gone why is that the deal
unloved and alone for 15 years fighting a war that free others.
but dooms me to something that I cannot hate or regret only dred
Hope that i did bot deserve it that I volunteered otherwise I may die in
clovers
But surely it is hell that waits for me.
I feel so unheard I pour out words that are not great
but they would carry meaning spoken to anyone strong and meek
from ear to ear of peasants and kings
and these words will carry a truth for all who truth seek
the orphaned child gazed at the moon
consoled not by love from afar
he sat alone, holding a spoon
stark solitude was his soul’s scar
the lamp in the sky has its moods
the orphaned child gazed the moon
when it is pitch dark, his heart broods
callous too seems, the sun at noon
“if God’s real, grant me love’s boon
that tender touch of mother’s kiss”
the orphaned child gazed the moon
“get me out of this dark abyss”
choosing to take all life along
with God he began to commune
his spirit then sang a love song
the orphaned child gazed at the moon
1
Puddle, swallow me in your
archaic and gracious depths.
I’ve been roaming through
my city and its veins
with no oceanic nor
dry eyes to salute to,
with no raw rapid river nor
traffic sign to guide me.
2
Their gods are angry at me,
puddle;
they now know -and not before- I have mocked
their rituals and broken their now transparent
and blood-ebon core. They´re angry at me,
puddle.
3
Release me from my self-put chains
Release me from these empty bonds
of mine,
from this modern and boring-to-watch Greek tragedy.
Save me, puddle;
sing to my haze under the red coldness
of the moon
and to my solitude under the fire on the petrified
willow.
4
I often walk through destroyed
statues,
with flesh and vines
touching the new light,
parasites of the old shadow
upon them.
I stare, and the copper-covered statue
blinds me with the reflection
of the wicked
sun
through the tortuous
morning mist.
5
There are
only
my dreams
in the mist,
and
my silhouette
dressed
as a man.
6
Please puddle,
let
my feet
touch gently
your first drops,
and so on
until
my figure
is wet
in the ocean
and
my neck
is hanged
from
the sky.
I’ll be able to swim towards the calm shore,
and rest in that land,
in the half-wet half-dry sand,
in a pain-free limbo.
Time will pass by,
and I will have forgotten
my human cover.
But just after my eyes clarify,
I will be forced to leave
the snow that had surrounded me,
and I will have to return to my core
and to the chaos I lived in.
And even if chaos won’t let me do it,
I will keep
trying to kiss it.
Let my voice represent those seeking emotional, physical and or mental emancipation!
Let my voice be that of the woman whose cries go unheard in the humdrum activities of this life!
Let my voice be the microphone that bellows the wails of the suppress, underprivileged and less fortunate!
Let my voice be that of the Freedom fighters: Nanny of the maroons, Rosa Parks and Susie King Taylor!
Let my voice be that of the unheard who speeches fall on deaf ears...
Let my voice be that of the unsung song that is shelved because it does not fit the profile of success- greed, sexual immortality, jealousy,
scandal!
Let my voice be the voice that seeks peace.
Let my voice be the voice that tells the stories of millions who were denied an opportunity.
Let my voice be the voice that speaks or articulates godly qualities.
Let my voice be the voice of those who have been muted by the society- The Unheard Voice!
BY STREET CRIES
PEOPLE PASS ME LIKE I DONT EXIST
LIKE I AM THE ONE WHO REALLY WANTED THIS
DROWNING IN MY SORROW AS I REMINISCE
DAYS OF MY LIFE FULL OF HUNDRED DOLLARNESS
FAST CARS PLENTY OF WOMEN TO KISS
NOW WOMEN RUN CAUSE OF MY STENCH
I USE TO BE ON BILLBOARD ADVERTISEMENT
NOW I HOLD SIGNS IN FRONT OF BILLBOARD ADVERTISEMENT
FACE FULL OF PAIN BEYOND RECOGNIZEMENT
HEART FULL OF SHAME WONDERING WHERE THE TIME WENT
YOU CANT SLEEP OR BE HERE IS MY ONLY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
FORCE TO LIVE IN A ENVIRONMENT WHERE ADDICTION IS DOMINATE
ROB AND RAPE HAPPEN TO THE SCARED AND SILENT
JUST TO GET A PLATE CAN TURN INTO SENSELESS VIOLENCE
UNDER THE INTERSTATE JUST TO CLOSE MY EYE LIDS
BLINDNESS PROTECTS YOU FROM SOCIETY DISGUISES
WHILE I STAND IN A FOOD LINE APART OF THE POVERTY CRISIS
I know a person
Who now cries underwater
To hide his sorrow!
Relentless venom in a still river
seeing out it's weak.
Tainted beauty cries
pure, sweet, eternity.
What was then
could not be now.
Such tales surely hold
mistaken ground.
A whisper heard,
a voice in the wind,
Shadows sweep over,
darkness begins.
With each taste
there's little pain.
His burning venom
numbs my veins.
Rid me from such despair,
beyond this paralyzed nightmare.
Bring me back to that still river,
let me hear such tales again.
Let the wind voice it's worries,
before it's darkness see's me in.
March 12, 2016
I may not be perfect, I'm not supposed to be,
I cry these painfilled tears, from my eyes for all to see.
Alone, I've walked through life, struggling every single day,
I'm sorry I've made mistakes, what else is there to say.
I'm a lamb, that is cowering, in a lions den so scared,
Injustice for the innocence, stolen, that my heart has had to bare.
Yet I'm told that I am crazy, over tears I do not hide,
But, hold me close just once, to feel my pain inside.
I am my own person, there isn't anyone like me,
Please quit trying to change me, into someone you want me to be.
I will not throw away my beliefs, to adhere to what you want,
Just because I am different, doesn't mean that I am wrong.
I know we don't see eye to eye, about the morals of our lives,
But, please make a note to self, I'll stand alone to fight.
I'm tired of being on my knees, begging for your approval,
I need you more than you'll ever know, one day I'll be above all.
But, before you stand to judge me, deeply clean out your own closet,
You will not kick me when I am down, I'm my own advocate.
I will rise above all this, very soon; You'll see!
My wings have already spread open; Look God has set me free!
Please do not be afraid, for I refuse to fall,
Stop pretending that you care, cause alone I'm standing tall.
But, listen to my cry daddy, before my time is gone,
I should not have had to write to you, any poem, letter, or song.
I will see you later on, one day on the street,
But until then, " I love you very much" and "can't wait until we meet.