Blank Out Poems - Poems about Blank Out

train whistle blues reflecting my saddest moods there she blows again sounds like she’s lost a friend for what does she lament? her wail sounds heaven-sent Is it a who or a lost love? she sounds fragile as a turtle dove...

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The flood of life bring sorrow Mind become empty in a moment or two Calling for perspective on the event Almost forgot what's the most important in that moment of time The flood comes slowly It kept deeper and deeper Get out people your present was not need at that moment Get going find a higher place To settle down till morning. ...

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The Spirit of kindness,hope,love,concern,empathy,wisdom,perservence,,and many more of the same kind helps us to live for eternity in "Heaven or in Hell"! These are "The Real Spirits" that we really have access to: and along with that given fact there are "Spirits That Have Access To Us All"; They are; "The Spirit of hatred,anxiety,jealousely,envy,and many...

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He came into the world without a sound. No hands reached out to hold his fragile head. The nurse just wrote his name and walked away- A child born to silence, not to songs. His mother stared through windows into rain. His father left before he knew his name. He learned that asking meant you’d not be heard. He learned that love...

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Upon a grassy hill, so long ago, our lovely, old Victorian-style home was built in eighteen eighty-six, aglow with cozy rooms and firesides burning bright. So charming were the winding stairs that flared neath the cathedral ceiling's chandelier. Outdoors, a rolling lawn and gardens spread beside a stony brook that rambled on. A time I still remember- Christmas Day in nineteen fifty-three- age...

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," I felt my fingernails digging into his back during a profoundly charged moment. It was striking to see tears streaming down the face of this strong man—he was unguarded! He sighed deeply and reached his climax again and again. This was not just a display of sportsmanship; it was a clear expression of inner...

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Teaser-act — LC What’s alive, dead, and witnessing? Me—listening. It’s the teaser-act. A black cat next to a fat fu** Skip under a ladder cause I know the origin of clatter. A four leaf—fig leaf Screw a few, hide the grief Streamline my hairline And unstuck my head fu** I light when the smoke is thick when the veil is dense and the clock don’t...

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Be quiet so you won’t be heard anymore. You might have heard this phrase growing up. Why do people think it’s their job to silence others and stop them from speaking freely? Every spoken word should be heard, like a loud ringtone from a cell phone that signals someone is calling. Everyone deserves to be heard. My...

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A practice kiss with her hand Misses body, heart The droplets like her fall — She amasses their death Even inside, outside Let rain go no further....

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A gull glides slowly Through the cloud-grey sky No sign of hurry, No hint of worry Content thus to fly. Dramatic contrast To the traffic down below Human hurry Human rush As though its sinful To go slow. Maybe somehow In a very little while I’ll let time take Its gentle course And gull-like Peaceful go. ...

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The mirror copies— life responds. Inside a mirror you are frozen. A stasis oasis. As if you’ve entered a black hole— and God took a screenshot. Paused, at the last real still frame. Everything else…A timeless story. There is something sacred about a mirror world. And it’s that you remember the light before it was refracted. Because that echo— the silent director to...

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Second Thoughts** Falling in love with someone you can never truly be with can be haunting. We hide behind filtered photos—wearing a smile, using body language as our shield. As poets, we feel deeply; we observe and express our emotions through the words we write. My heart is weary—so weary. (Elizabeth Browning) Our tone...

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Green woods Barefoot I walk Chalk half broken Unspoken yearnings Earrings from the caves Waves from the Tigris Enslaving existence Distances chopped Pearl drops ________ July 2, 2025...

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Dry Spells There’s no action in the living room, no action in the kitchen, and no action in the bathroom. So, let’s be clear about the bedroom: keep your expectations realistic, nothing is going to happen. ...

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The echoes in cartoons, The sermons in static, How every chorus begs us To wake, or vanish. Maybe God is a director. I don’t know. But the script is too perfect, And the extras too hollow, Like the background forgot How to breathe on its own. There goes the Baker. Popping pills in his blue buggy with one red ball and another blue dangling from...

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