Best Words Fail Poems
Musing Lately
Let’s just say
with my husband now having heart troubles and my
being old (& bedridden while waiting for my new prosthetic-leg) makes for on-going thinking, remembering, observing, reflecting, tentatively concluding, believing
how the ineffable ultimately rules…and one’s
language (for all its commanding need to be used with a true Love ) finds w
o
r
d
s
to be less than their expressive task f
a
i
l
(despite even some i
divine inspiration)
n
g
to cast some light brighter
than the humble votive’s flame flickering in the heart —
Or more than the one tear — felt but unseen' — in the corner of the eye, bringing along its cathartic story …ready to fall down over the cheek…
Or to realize (especially after 40 years togerther) that devotion lives well beyond a 3-word statement in heights carried there by a tried, spiritual touching of our auras in the room: lives aligned for better or worse in the profound music that our closeness creates. The poems are born in being or feeling before the written.
(c) sally young eslinger 7/13/24**
In my youth, i was a devotee of James Joyce and Samuel Beckett. (Beckett even sent me a hand-written letter in response to one i sent him.). I pretty much memorized “Waiting for Godot.” Joyce and Beckett both saw words dissolving — into the ineffable. Some powerful poems lead us there, but that there, I’ve found is in the unspeakable.
When Words Fail Me
When words fail me, my shadow will trail me:
A meandering silhouette.
Numerous adventures , we will embark upon
No words will be spoken!
Naturally!
Or unnaturally!
Countries vast with barren lands
Betwixed black chimneyed cottages and
Windswept oceans.
On winged birds, we will fly
Undulating to the wind.
We will look down
And take note of delicate webs
That both the humans and spiders span.
Webs of lace. Webs of networks!
Fragile emotions perfumed
With bitter sweet lotions
Of course I won't have words
To describe these!
In images they will be inscribed.
Beguiled smiles, and veiled eyes.
In stones.
Carved with a scintillating sword.
And corpses: savagely occurred.
In landfills. Cemeteries. And slaughterhouses.
We will pray; my shadow and I
That there will be no more of these
Corpses to come: the savage kinds!
Both of living beings or shattered dreams!
Not in words, shall we pray but
In scents and images and other senses!
Softly, softly, my love,
do your fingers trace
the fullness of my cheek,
trailing a message,
a whisper, as soft as new down.
I open my lips to speak
sweet words of love,
but hear only, a sigh come forth.
Words fail me.
Deeply, deeply my love,
do your warm eyes
seek the depths of my own,
speaking a message,
a murmur, in silent prose.
I open my lips to speak
sweet words of love,
but hear only, a sigh come forth.
Words fail me.
I yield, I yield, I yield.
When everybody is right is anybody wrong
sometimes my mind rambles losing its way
every so often it finds its way back
I don't know where it's going or coming from
we can predict the date of our birth
death is more elusive
my mind rambles like a bowl of letters
swimming aimlessly looking for the right words
my mind treads water and right words evade me
the right time has eluded my grasp
only to be of no use when I am alone
yet my mind escapes in no particular direction
I was looking out my window
I think it was a window inside a dream
an elusive dream the other side of a window
I had nowhere to go so there I went
I saw a man unkept with the scent of the streets
scratching a lottery ticket his face changes from hope
to hopeless back to the streets
could have been me or you
When words fail me
because my mind rambles in no direction
and the letters scramble to find each other
my past is in my rear view mirror
the days are getting shorter so is life
Frank (Black) Blacharczyk
February fourteenth shock,
headline news, no valentine.
Fourteen students stilled, shot without regard
for who they were or who they might become,
in complete shock, their families and friends.
Three adults unselfishly
put their bodies in danger.
Others too regarding innocent kids,
proved how very professional they are;
they'll teach anti-violence to their deaths.
Momentary lack of sense,
a future moment ignored,
with florid disregard for liberty
fiendish nineteen-year-old Floridian
flaunted common sense only fooling one.
Students across this country
in a March fourteenth walkout
spoke against weapons in the hands of youth.
When words fail to register right from wrong,
more laws will never stop misuse of guns.
Responsible behavior
is taught best when also shown.
written March 15, 2018
Seven-ten contest (blank verse w/o meter) - host, Emile Pinet.
Intellect in disarray,
Eloquence falls short, again.
You, perfect picture, in my mind’s eye,
Words often fail when they aim to describe.
I look in every lexicon,
Delving into dictionaries,
Empty out encyclopaedias,
Thumbing through the thesauri...
I conclude no words compare to you,
Descriptions weak and rarely true.
No word does justice, phrases fail
To truly tell what you entail.
How does one convey
a past not meant to last?
How does one explain
a numbed brain?
How can emotions
simply disappear?
Why do we turn against
those we hold dear?
When will our life
as we knew resume?
Back to normal
can we assume?
End the desire
oneself to impale?
Words fail.
thoughts of you release my light
tonight light draws your beauty out
but a fool was birthed this night
thoughts of you release my light
words keep me from your present sight
why can’t I find a word to shout
thoughts of you release my light
tonight light draws your beauty out
When words fail me, my shadow will trail me:
A meandering silhouette.
Numerous adventures , we will embark upon
No words will be spoken!
Naturally!
Or unnaturally!
Countries vast with barren lands
Betwixed black chimneyed cottages and
Windswept oceans.
On winged birds, we will fly
Undulating to the wind.
We will look down
And take note of delicate webs
That both the humans and spiders span.
Webs of lace. Webs of networks!
Fragile emotions perfumed
With bitter sweet lotions
Of course I won't have words
To describe these!
In images they will be inscribed.
Beguiled smiles, and veiled eyes.
In stones.
Carved with a scintillating sword.
And corpses: savagely occurred.
In landfills. Cemeteries. And slaughterhouses.
We will pray; my shadow and I
That there will be no more of these
Corpses to come: the savage kinds!
Both of living beings or shattered dreams!
Not in words, shall we pray but
In scents and images and other senses!
Words fail to dictate
the feeling of thirst for love
loved one's no response
Sometimes words fail me,
The pain of watching war unfold,
Trying to express something that always seems
Just out of reach,
The pain that can accompany love,
The
risk of taking down our mask,
Watching the staggering beauty
of being,
rub against oblivion.
Sometimes words just fail me,
So I offer out my empty hands,
Empty except their hope
of love,
John Roberts
The first glance
After a long awaited chance.
She, in her essentials, bare
So gorgeously fair
In her eyes, a naughtiness gleamed
More in store, it seemed
And so it turned out
Oomph, beauty, passion- all a rout
In her negligee she stood, a red hot thing
Sending my heart & pulse racing
Leaving me stunned and agaped
Words fail, just the image saved.
Times may come when words will fail ~~
Emotions will run high, and tears prevail.
written December 21, 2021
I was born with the meaning of home running through my veins. ~ Lauren Eden
laughing, songs of surreal longings stirring
wide-eyed epiphanies glow
in silence, free like make believe, pretending
while sorrows meld with light’s spiritual leaves
knowing God’s love meant
goosebumps on naked moments
pouring out serenity into lives who believe
where colors of faith
meet amazing in His grace
and the stories reveal what lives beneath the stillness
eyes in quiet blue, misty with a feeling
between me and you
I know a sincere love that will always rise
just beyond indigo skies
He lives, in heaven’s glory
revealing the truth
in that old story
my blood pours out a music
inside I know heartfelt joy
binding my wounds with the most beautiful news
Words fail me
illogic sickens our world
as we’re caught in the
dystopic distemper
of our times.
The ice cube’s melting
the waters rising,
yet our house burning
as this ill wind blows
nobody no good
and that puff of LA breeze
only spreads the stench
of viral victims.
Our future discounted
by doubting Thomas deniers
prophets of false truths
doubling down on
discounted discredited lies
whilst the cryptocurrency
of insurrection warps
once patriotic minds.
Words fail me.