Long Ungiven Poems
Long Ungiven Poems. Below are the most popular long Ungiven by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ungiven poems by poem length and keyword.
If you're wondering why I haven't made a step
Here I am giving you my answers
Hopeful I would reach you far
Anxious - if my words would be enough
I'm sorry for the late night arguments
I wish we didn't slept through it
I'm sorry for not paying attention
To the little things you did
I'm sorry for all the tears your eyes shed
I should've had just hugged you tight
I'm sorry for pushing you away
When all you ever wanted was just my hand
I'm sorry for making you wait and worried
For being in a mood of hating you deep
I'm sorry for all the ungiven kisses
I have given to the unknown happiness
To all the quarrels we had to go through
To all the cruel games we had played
To all the messages and calls we had ignored
I'm sorry for not understanding them right
And to my most painful memory, the fool was I
When the lights were off and when the curtains were down,
You gave me choices of impossible; if you turn around
I made it all possible - for opening the door
To Spark Interest
More than the
competence
And more than
the form
More than
verbosity
And more than
its charms
More than
acceptance
And more than
the fame
Hoping
to spark interest
Nothing more
— will I claim
********
Surrounding His Heart
In a manner
peculiar
to himself
love was in vain
The standard
that other’s
depended upon
his never to feign
The love of a maiden
the love of a lass
lay broken
to bits
Impaled by the armor
surrounding
his heart
ungiven — remiss
********
But A Memory
Opening
Pandora’s Box
that regret
cannot close
A.I. preys
unchecked
our heads to
our toes
Pandering
to laziness
its gadgets
mislead
And hide
its real purpose
to enslave
and deceive
A little bit
pregnant
the feckless
proclaim
Its baby
a monster
our freedom
to claim
And when it
takes over
to never
depart
Our pasts
but a memory
in a future
— that’s dark
********
Alone & Silent
The water
rushing over the falls
belies its force
A trickle
1000 miles North
contains its source
A poem that’s written
then published
and rewrapped in fame
Hides what moments alone
and silence
— forever sustain
********
A Last Final Act
Using Logic to
explain Divinity ...
a futile endeavor
Love the gift
that keeps on giving
through hate and ill weather
Through spirit alone
we return to the source
of our making
Repledging our souls
in a last final act
— of becoming
(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)
I went for a walk...
took a moment,
saw the neighbors' grass -
not a dandalion to be found,
bushes clipped just "so",
trees bordered with wood chips,
flower beds,
sidewalks edged,
but no ones ever home...
Saw some birds -
the endless hunting
for scraps
pecking away -
hopping about,
searching
gathering
for nests already empty...
I walked over by the park -
as well,
the open swings swaying in the breeze -
weeds showing where feet
were meant to be,
sliding boards - silently awaiting giggles
seesaws - teetering on extinction
no time for being children anymore...
I sat on a bench -
opened my zippered binder
lifted my pen
and my mind wandered a bit
enjoying the sun -
the heat
the scents
the silence - a lot of silence
a lot of aloneness - there,
everywhere...
All the roses - not being smelled,
ungiven smiles,
sunshine missed,
empty eyes returning at dusk
as the days pass by -
mindless chatter of TVs
hiding ourselves
filling the nights,
pre-planned portions to the plates
to the ears
to the minds -
and the hearts crying so hard
to be heard, noticed, touched
in sad-sour dreams -
and with the dawn
it begins again
the endless cycle
of being lost - and missing
life.
In the late interlude of existence, a woman,
Readies herself to step into the celebration of her seventieth year.
She asks, has she found the soul's peace,
Fulfillment, the joy of life, or does she still wander
In search of answers to old questions,
Returning to "what if's” in a world devoid of echoes.
Her descendants prepare for her a grand celebration,
Her grandchildren, stars around her, shining to honor the occasion.
Are they the mirror of her pride?
Or is her heart weighted with ungiven time,
Persistent worries, endless wishes for better?
The extended family gathers, in this festive moment,
Yet she feels distant, a stranger in her own narrative.
Life has not followed her dreams; it has been a path of storms,
But from each trial, she learned to be strong,
To embrace her days with gratitude, to leave phantoms behind,
To graciously accept the unanticipated gifts of fate.
Once asked about future plans,
She dreamed of grandeur, yet found only silence in responses.
Now, with serene wisdom, she whispers her creed: "let it be",
Finding answers in the song of stars, in the breeze's caress.
Her dreams, unfulfilled, but never forsaken,
Urge her to dream anew, to reinvent,
To live each moment, to carve her own path of happiness,
For in the end, you are the architect of your own life.
Thus, this woman, free from the concerns of tomorrow,
Dances to rhythms of eternity, living in the present,
Changing with each day like a gentle balm,
Embracing life, in all its complexity, with an open heart.
Ahhh... to live each moment as an endless gift,
In this mystical tableau, where every verse is a melancholic sigh.
Only those who have not yet met truly love each other,
Those who, in the early morning horizon, imagine themselves as kings and queens without sin,
They dream in the secretive color of amethyst, hidden somewhere deep,
Where the heart, intoxicated by the unseen moon, weaves its untouched desires.
They are like two parallel universes, close but never destined to meet,
In their cosmic dance, traversing unexplored, unembraced circles of stars,
They look at one another, through a veil of comets, with hope in their eyes,
Flashes of potential, of pure love, in the night where silence and mystery intertwine.
Hands reach out towards the moon, the cutter of nights, grasping only dreams and echoes,
In a phantom embrace, through which the celestial breeze passes, cold yet somehow hot,
The longing for a kiss ungiven, under the fluttering eyelid of time that pulsates and waits,
And unformed promises rise like smoke, dreaming of shapes, of completed contours.
In this labyrinth of the unknown, where footsteps resonate like an ancient song,
Lies the sweet elixir of mystery, sweetening every imagination,
Thus, in the space between certain and possible, floats the scent of an unnamed love,
As two souls seek each other among the stars and find each other in the unwavering moonbeams.
They are like two butterfly wings haunting the gardens of evening in a seraphic hue,
Touching only in the breath of wind vibrating with scents of jasmine and lavender,
The purity of an unknown feeling follows its path in evanescent bites,
And in the mystery that envelops them, the love born of the unknown seems eternal and holy.
Therefore, true love ascends in universes waiting to be discovered,
On unwritten book pages, in soundless melodies, it opens the way to infinite life,
For the sake of imagining what could be, they remain truly in their shared longing,
For in the unclear vision of beginnings, the incomprehensible possibilities of pure and undimming love are hidden.