Long Unsaid Poems
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Simple words left unsaid
this blindness of pride
unpinning the twine
a haunting
———-
Draping her shadow
crescents of blood
thickens to drizzle
a river of mud to
his presence
———-
Gloried divine
Savior to sole
unhealed in misery
no growing old
the revelation
———-
Centipedes crawling
pains again
poisoning floods
these misty rains
in exorcism
———-
Easing confessions
of screaming torture
reeked a misery
expelled in anger
a cleansing
———-
Unhitched by grace
serendipity flowered
this breeze to face
tendrils of love
seeped to core
is forgiven
Form:
And then she said to me,
“Just keep yourself in mind as well. That’s all I ask…”
And I felt the shards of pain in her soundless voice, though it was your grave’s soul speaking
I wanted to embrace her for that eternal kiss of advice,
Had I done so, I would never leave her side…
Still my dear, I must go, to see more of this world
To be there for my dear angel despairing
In our heartfelt goodbyes, you well know my mind and heart are with you
Love, I must be free now
There awaits an untouched land to gaze and walk upon
A new hand to touch and hold on to
A purpose for my words I hold fast
And please… please don’t say you have fallen for me!
For I am tragedy, chaos, a never-ending pit
Please don’t go down that road- think nothing of it!
As she pleads to me…
Don’t go…don’t go
I’ll miss you…I care for you…I love you…
And my eyes close in that frustrated pause of what may happen
Cringing at the thought of losing that warmth of your cling
I cannot bear to hurt you dearest one…
Yet I cannot bear to stay
Because if I turn once again to you,
I will never see the beauty beyond us both
And this, with your sacrificial tears, I simply cannot bear!
Do not say so loud that you love me,
I cannot bear to hear those words from your heavenly mouth
They both sooth me and perturb me
Can’t you see…why I must never let you have me?
In many of those excruciating pauses,
There were times that I begged for you to love me
Searching every detail out, every crack appearing on your trembling flesh
But when I saw the gaping hole that made up my closest friend,
When it finally sunk in that your heart was crying for me,
And me only,
I remember whispering to myself, though directed at your soul,
Love me when the light dims
Be selfless when you must let me go
I will write you poetry when I feel your heart sobbing
And the laughter we have long shared will kiss your thrones of despair
You will always be a deep, warm part of me
A heart so jovial in outer layers, but tender in its beautiful core
I will sweep my wings over you, dearest
Singing and dancing around bittersweet chords
For in between the rests of passion
There is vast beauty beyond us
“Keep yourself in mind as well”
Though your heart trembled from the pangs of unsaid truths,
That’s all you asked…
Written: May 22, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Daniel Henry Rodgers
3rd place contest winner
*******************************
They found it in a cellar no one remembered building—
a small box of tarnished brass, hinges soft as old breath,
a warm lid that felt like it had been pondering for a long time.
Scholars termed it a mnemonic engine,
while clerics labeled it a sin-counter.
Children claimed it housed a star that forgot how to shine.
The lady who inherited it—
The one with the quivering hand and the always-paused voice—knew better.
She had seen the way the box listened.
When she approached, the air thickened,
as if the room were holding its breath to avoid spoiling a pledge.
The box never opened for her or anyone else.
It often shifts its weight on the table at night like a dreamer rolling over.
She kept it despite demurs that it buzzed, projected shades in locations,
no lantern may explain, and knew things no object should recall.
When she tried to leave it behind,
the silence in her chest grew heavier, as if the box were
only keeping her unspoken life from collapsing.
She swore she heard it whisper, never words, some nights.
A quiet, rhythmic counting sound.
Counting her unspoken regrets, options, and lost selves.
Maybe the sum of times she walked back from a truth.
The reliquary kept its secret.
It waited, watched, and held what she couldn't say.
After she died, they found the box beside her,
still closed, warm, and listening.
No one dared touch it, but someone claimed they heard it exhale—
a long, relaxed breath, as if it had stopped counting???
If you only had a thousand words to say, how would you say them
would you use them for good or evil, how would you use them
Now, the Word of God is all-powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword
dividing the soul and spirit, enter the deepest part of the joints and marrow
and is a discerning of your thoughts and mind and they never grow old or cold
The word of God is alive, they penetrate, demonstrate, separates the good and evil, they liberate you and me, ain't you glad, God's word became human and dwell among and we did not know it.
If a thousand words are left unsaid, one's tears fall dead, a broken spirit unread,
a shattered dream, a ripped heart falls apart, a single word from God will heal,
what a deal, He has sealed, with ONE WORD and will not let it go unheard,
from His mouth, they came and He gave them to you and me, can't you see?
King of Nothing, ruler of change,
In a world of shifting tides,
Where constancy is but a changing page,
And sameness is my mask that hides my face.
Through endless cycles, I reigned supreme,
Eternally shifting, lakes of sand.
My world spins, like a lucid dream,
And I a nothing player in your grandest schemes.
I can wear no crown upon my head,
No throne on earth to call my own.
In the dance of life, I dancing tread,
Transforming all that's known not dead.
From dawn to dusk, and dusk to dawn,
I wove your intricate grand design,
The past is lost, the future born,
In my kingdom lost I found the words.
A kaleidoscope of moments fleet,
Nothing stagnant, all I once believed.
As petals fall, new blossoms greet,
No comfort in stagnation, there is no church.
King of Nothing, I bowed to your might,
Embracing the chaos, the winds of change,
For in my realm, I found the light,
And my freedom from the words I left unsaid.
I sing, I fly, I dance, I do
As rapture rises, each hue new
I exult emotes from my heart
Aura glistens like morning dew
Spontaneity is an art
Deeming all souls one, none apart
Thus tango dancing with the breeze
I feel within, ignition start
Rid at last of thinking disease
I feel blissful, as nodes unfreeze
There is no doing to be done
As I amble through life with ease
Within heart glows, the central sun
By God’s hand, love’s bliss grid is spun
I Am as am, feeling complete
My false self dies, I come undone
As polarities meet and greet
From head to toe, am bliss replete
Such matters are best left unsaid
Dance divine leaving heart upbeat
I Am by soma nectar fed
And by throb of agape love led
Befriending silence, I ascend
As I lay asleep, on my bed
life ~ a marine carousel of soul-cracks
an odyssey of thorns and memories,
a reverie
of regrets and roses.
and I a mere spectator
of my own circus~
I reminisce
lost in the eyes of bleeding skies,
tracing colors within
the celestial
casket of cryptic lies,
emanating funeral embers
of deceased innocence,
blanketed in buried trauma,
six feet beneath
familiar footsteps
that stomped butterfly blossoms,
oblivious to the suppressed cries
leaving an ache
between
suffocating ribs…
but will saccharine stars
ever reveal
stories left unsaid,
as every cocktail I sipped
was but a
wistful concoction of chaos…
O beloved moon,
forgive the dreariness of
the deadliest midnight
mirroring grief
like a paradox
of paralyzed peonies…
I’ve long been a victim
of soulless ghosts,
sold to the scorching gold
that the narcissistic sun
served on sinister platters~
as if I were not human,
as if k a r m a slept in
the arms of mythical tales….
yet I am all that the
cold fangs of destiny
failed to unravel
I am k i n d n e s s,
awaiting kaleidoscopic rain.
I am l o v e ,
longing to lace
lakes of hurt with light…
I am p e a c e,
painting pages of loneliness
with perfumed prose.
I am h o p e ,
delicate yet unbreakable.
I am t i m e ,
fleeting and untamable.
so if tomorrow
I forget syllables of serenity
to embellish
introspective i n k
with whimsical wisps of wisdom
and redolent runes of resilience
remember
I refuse to
drown in
delusions
and despair
for I will swim
against treacherous tides
facing satanic seas
in falcon fortitude~
a maternal mermaid
s u r f i n g away
from mundane misery,
as I taste the tender sparks
of turquoise
tomorrows
amidst the seething storms,
veiling the saffron
between
softened streaks
of dulcet dusks...
When Passion overwhelms
Passion my weakness that tends to overpower,
as if I am living only to nurture love and hover?
Logical thoughts beating and buzzing in head,
my biggest strength, words are better unsaid !
Heart full of love pumps into my farthest cell,
yearnings sizzling hot that refuse a tranquil.
Tears from starry eyes slip like quicksilver,
life nearing end, gloom and sorrow shimmer!
Wake up, can't let my being vanish in vain,
betrayed love why am I craving to attain ?
Unaccomplished, Unacknowledged, Unsought,
can't let suffocate and blot out my thought.
Love be soft as feathers, mind strong as reins,
my strength my ideas, firmer than any chains.
Sprout and grow fast and tempestuously,
making me stand venerable conspicuously !
Written November 7th, 2014
For contest by Verlena S. Walker
Awarded HM
Mister Joe, would-be muse,
jangles loose change in his pockets.
Each tiny clang sets forgotten cupboards humming.
Forgotten thoughts spring up, without asking.
Memories jog the journey while he's walking.
The kettle whistles before; the teacup understands.
Old riddles wash, rinse, tumble, and spin.
Rhymes peg themselves upon invisible lines.
The breeze flaps fresh ideas, hung out to dry.
"Finished the laundry, Mister Joe?"
The washing hangs bone-dry on the line.
He gathers the clothes, fluffs them loose.
Now the creases know exactly where to hide.
By dusk, his pockets have quietly grown heavier.
Loose change is dressed in freshly laundered clothes.
Every coin now sounds suspiciously like poems.
Next morning, he empties his pockets, onto the page.....
Sorting the jangles, line by line.
He wants to cast jangles and clangs,
into the minds of his readers, if they'll listen.
To show enough, but to leave enough unsaid.
He wants his words to fish where quiet memories sleep.
Each image leaves another mouth half wide open.
So the reader finds footprints before finding feet.
And a mirror quietly longing, to become a window.
The catch is prodded, puzzled - shaken and stirred.
Some readers smile; some simply stop and stare.
Each little clang becomes another hidden key.
Unlocking rooms he never knew were waiting there.
The poem, once written, quietly triggers,
jingles rattling in the readers' pockets.
Coming home with someone else's change.
For a poem is more than the bell a poet rings~
It is the echoes awakening in waiting bells.
The page is turned... the reader keeps on jingling.
The reader keeps on jingling.
The reader keeps on jingling.
I packed my life in corners stitched with thread, A passport, photographs, and borrowed shoes; The room I left still holds the words unsaid, While distant cities wait with colder views.
The airport glass reflected two of me— The man who stayed, the one who chose the flight; Between them hung a quiet, restless sea Of mother’s prayers and unfamiliar light.
I learned that exile is not always pain; Sometimes it is a bridge of aching hope, A narrow path that bends through loss and gain, Where lonely hands still somehow learn to cope.
And though my roots remain in red-clay earth, Each honest step abroad becomes rebirth.