Long Unhealing Poems

Long Unhealing Poems. Below are the most popular long Unhealing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unhealing poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member What Is Love -2

My Heart is just an organ no memory does it have
The blood it pumps through my viens, is an unhealing salve
I often wonder, what is LOVE; a strange concept to me
Will I ever know of LOVE, as Soupers feel and see
 
One day I thought, I had found LOVE; but soon that LOVE was gone
Forgotten was the moment, when I thought LOVE broke my Heart
I don't know why I cried, from colourful Sunset 'til early morning Dawn
I can not remember how this LOVE even got its start
 
It never did return to me, a feeling of LOVE for Eternity
As time went by, as I grew old, of LOVE I had no Memory
Late at night, a nightmare comes, a nightmare named Lenore
The only words this spectre Whispers is,"Now and Evermore"

                              To be Cont.
Form: Rhyme


Silent Cry

There is a part of me,
That I keep locked up and have no key,

At least, I say, one can not be found,
yet, here it comes flowing forth, like water from the ground,

Tears I feel weeping, like sap from my heart,
I don't know whether to scream or pull my self apart,

Feeling dizzy, 
Feeling sick,
Hoping I can find my balance quick,

Set in motion, 
These forces as strong as an ocean,
Out pours all my pent up emotion,

Spewing forth under no remorse of agony or rage,
Setting everything around me ablaze,

Its' destructive nature leaves an unhealing wound,
feeling as if my life was meant for such gloom,

I can't escape my memories, I can't escape their pain,
I plead for help yet my cries are only done in vain,

No on can hear my sorrow, my loss, my tortured soul,
Not even the pen from which my words flow.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Mind Museum

Sad the heart 
sick the mind
from world 
of commotion
retiring
its past reliving
motionless drifting
to skeletons 
of mind museum
odorless images
soundless captions
spirit of senses
still pricking
its heart 
joy seeking
switching from 
dreaming
to present of gadgets 
unhealing
blowing away walls  
breathing out
relics
dropping its shoes 
of backward 
living
raising its heels
that present
kept hidden
running barefoot
to the forest 
for healing
where weeds 
grow seeds
untouched by mower
flowers 
pure fragrance
perspiring
petals unfold 
true colors
unseen
like love 
that's pure
because hidden
brooks flow gently
accompanying songs
of birds like treasure
in green hidden
each moment 
the forest 
renews itself 
perpetuating life
by giving 
with rains
and sun milk
its body
God feeding
its spirit by seeding 
continuing
dependence
with patience
togetherness
teaching
God's
unifying love
revealing.

First Place Winner as "Memory Museum" Brian Strand- All Yours- 6/5/21

Premium Member When Words Are Weaponized

Words are double-edged swords

  On one hand, they're used to teach and inspire
       They're used to express love, to charm, 
   To communicate wants and needs effectively

      Words are golden; emotionally soothing
        When draped with silken tenderness; 
          Treated with care like fragile glass

        On the other hand, when weaponized; 
    Thrusted like an epee to impale a thin skin, 
  Wielded like a machete to cut someone down...

         They can inflict unhealing wounds! 
   Just like a bullet can't be sucked back into 
      The chamber after the trigger is pulled, 

     Deeply hurtful invectives can't be unsaid.
The damage done won't be completely repaired,
          No matter how sincere an apology.  

  So when passions are inflamed, it's important
 To pause, take a deep breath, and let our anger
   Dissipate before we say something we regret. 



Date written: 10/28/2019
Form: Lyric

Ever Wailing Child

Who will cry for the little boy,

Whose wails are heard resounding inside the man.

The man whose ever unhealing wounds are clothed in pride,

These mortal scars he wears beneath his flesh

To him are medals of honour

testimonies to his character

Though his visage is a prominent countenance of pride

He is ailed by a phantom of a little whelp

a wailing boy who stands at the threshold of time

ever hurling his lamentations to the man

with accusatory tones in little grievous voices 

accursed day the mother's nipple he purged 

with tiny bites and little nibbles his mute protests understood

and from his suckling lips his nourishment rid of with haste,

& left after the mother's guttural wails, a glutinous white trail of sweet aliment.

in persuit of new tastes, urged to crawl away from those who knew him

needing to quench his dry life with spirits and to lick his wounds in solitude

the boy's mistake his haste attitude to become a man 

Ever and forever more so, suckling from a bottle's tip the said spirits, the malignant acids,

remedies to calm his demons, heart hardened and his will to live humbled, now with each sip he impugns his need to exist, sipping these pernicious aliments to tenderly nourish his grave and coax his days shorter.

bear not amiss the abhorant, dreaded days ere 

when harsh lines marked the path he progressed,

in the keeping of a world with vile intentions this lone boy

with no loving hand to stroke a tender flame on his fragile emotions

accursed day when ignorancy ailed one such as he, to hate blindly

pride and arrogance his eventual downfall ever stirring him to ignorancy. 

hate he suckled as nourishment from the nipples of a mother whose bosom coursed with old hate. 

robbed of her maidenhood, violated absent care, then the spawn to disdain and loathe unfurl out of the desecrated womb, a gift from nemesis

woe ye the day he bid his own counsil unworthy to heed

ignorant of benevolence his creeping demise unfurl

heart unchanging ever frozen in the frame of the babe


Premium Member No One Can Replace You

You left us John, yet life goes on
                        
                            You left too soon, unhealing wound

                                         My brother, 
                      
                                      Though cousin;
    
                                       Closest to me

                                 In our childhood home,

                                    Torn from our tree

                                 Could you have known

                                The heartache you'd sown

                              No one can replace you John

                            In the eight years that you've 

                                           Been gone

                             Remembering you, and hearing

                                             A song

                                      The world spins, 

                                     Time moves along

                             Poet, deep heart, brother mine

                                  We breathe, we live 

                                   No, we're not fine

                           Your pain was deep and traceable

                           You knew you were Irreplaceable

                       Now your widows picked up the pieces

                       Her shattered heart loves again, though

                                Her pain never ceases

                         How we've longed to see your face

                         Your gone:       cannot be replaced

                         The world spins, and life goes on

                        But you are SO missed brother John
Form: Rhyme

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