Long Unscarred Poems
Long Unscarred Poems. Below are the most popular long Unscarred by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unscarred poems by poem length and keyword.
As the moon drifts away on the sea
I'm shivering in the freeze
Of a lonely breeze
Stars cascade on my mind
I'm just looking for what's mine
Pretending to feel fine
A meteor shower isn't what I need
As I'm falling to my knees
Mouthing to the heavens, "please"
Melodic memories mesmerize
As if the universe is telling me lies
Crowning me the lord of flies
The universe opens up like a book made of stars
And I'm wondering why it was so hard
To not break away unscarred
See the stars in the sky are long dead
But beautiful even if they died
Just damned souls that can't hide
Flowers blossom with moon pearls
Before my fingers unfurled
And beheld by a hungry world
Rainbows shoot over and over on the horizon
And that's just where my eyes are
When the coming sunrise chases lies far
I'm just a man seeing the beauty untold
Unfold in the cold of night I know
This is a splendor only the stars can show
But as the moon drifts away on the sea
I'm shivering in the freeze
Of a lonely breeze
But not for long as I feel the sun
Light dancing on my skin I'm no longer shunned
And the ethereal truth leaves me stunned
I was always a child of radiant light
And I no longer have to look to the sky
To figure out why
For as long as I dream I can defeat hate
And chase away my stubborn hard ways
That lead to bad decisions and dark days
But deep down I still knew
I'll always swoon for the moon
That drifts away on the sea too soon
my hands are cracked and bleeding
I gag as bone protrudes
but the show must go on.
my hands are tightly bandaged
once i disappear behind the screen
and light illuminates my hands
I look perfect.
I steady my tremors
and put my focus
into my performance.
I wish that someone
would peer behind the screen
kiss my hands
and hydrate my skin
with tears
but instead
I watch others puppet shows
at the slightest mistake
I waste no time
I rip the paper
but there they stand
soft, unscarred hands
I’m forbidden form their theater
for ruining the show
I learned to stop letting
my insecurities show
but I always worry
that others
struggle the same
almost to a fault
but instead
I hide behind the curtain
bandaging my broken hands
—wThis Thing Called Aging
1All day, no, far more nearly for 2 years,
I have been thinking I have had
Enough of being old, being
Pleasant about this form of present:
I have had enough of this aging task.
I wish to go back— not, no, not
Return to my troublesome youth.
No returning, please,but, perhaps,
A re-setting of some physical,
.Dimensional clock, just as springtime
Returns every year and the perennials
Re-grace us all around, splendidly,
Their petals unscarred.
I will concede to grayed hair, even to
These painful bones, but I want
To hand in how I drop every 3rd
Thing I touch, misplace every 3rd
Thing I set down, or take a fall every 3rd
Outing I dare. How it goes on
That I must ask help to stand,
To lift, to fetch, to set down, to plan.
As decades passed, perhaps I gained
Some wisdom, tho now must pray
Daily for strength. And even if
I cannot travel anymore, I retain
A universe of unknowns - by Faith - in
Views from my soul, for which
I need not squint or lean in closer
To the turning pages...
I was a ballet dancer in my youth.
I miss in this aging, the liquidity
Of motion, and I give apologies
For my neediness, and also give
Thanks for this continuing life...
Not ballet, but a tango with language,
And a promenade with my dreams:
This concourse of wishing traverses
A decrepit, wooden bridge failing
Its hold over a river of inconsequence.
And, next time these desires consume
A further day, I shall laugh,
Just as aging will have taught me to do.
*********************************
sally young-Eslinger2020 (c)
They drift gently
down(downed)?
Into the heart they root,
confetti on desperate streets
glowing like gilded red roses.
Smell them as they chant your songs.
so very often (semi-pure-hearted) they keep things(you) aloft,
far above
the stingers
the biters of early frost.
All the while death's photographic memory
tapdancing and tossing needles.
You feel you can ride razors, go unscarred.
A pinwheel inside the bubble of soda pop dreams,
live forever's eternity...
The loins of the mind, a crisp confident ball of catnip and tinsel.
Every by-way of everyday doused in gentle flames.
Every gaze a swaying mosaic of prairie flowers...
but the sun is but a blemish to storm.
The downy gaze is but a concrete stare,
the eyes of hope glancing off yesterday.
When trails were filled with bike bells and pulse.
Petals of just being, brushed beneath tender chins.
We both liked butter and blurry stars... and we kissed...
clumsily, bad chip-toothed - pure.
Sediments of puppy love and living will devolve,
Wings tend to become claws
flight into crawl...
An uncomfortable lavender.
Paths will rut, become trough
cold canyon
flash flooding crashing.
Broken flowers cascading under the chin
butter turns
rancid
crows barking,
"I told you so-should have listened to father,
when he begged you to slow down.
The silk of naivety leads to brushfires in the mind.
Everything given to scorch...
the hills, the troughs
we (the survivors) hang from trees
groping the dark
to descend to the bones of things once loved
of things once cherished
of things now hated
of things avoided
things that lay dead...
a plague of darkness bred
in the silences
of
hopeless.
The lullaby raped into hoarseness,
like bike bells in winter.
We were the epitome of love's pure flame,
Where love wasn't an option, but the very essence of our frame.
We walked side by side, two love birds entwined,
Our hearts beating as one, our love forever aligned.
Everything was alright, I don't want to lie,
But now, I'm left to wonder, why the change in the sky.
Can we look back and see the way we used to be?
Bathing together, under the same melody.
We'd play our favorite song, and our love would resound,
In each other's eyes, our hearts would be found.
We were best friends, partners in every sense,
Together forever, our love would make its own defense.
Morning kisses, whispered sweet nothings, and prayers at night,
Our love was deep, our feelings, a precious, sacred light.
In bed, we'd hold each other tight,
Our love, a flame that burned, day and endless night.
But now, we're like strangers, living worlds apart,
Two people, once so close, now barely a spark in the heart.
I wish we could turn back the clock, and be what we used to be,
When love was new, and our hearts were free.
We'd make jokes, and laugh until our sides would ache,
Our dreams of marriage, and kids who'd run and play, at stake.
We were the king and queen of each other's hearts,
But a bad wind blew, and our love fell apart.
The pain remains, a constant, gnawing ache,
A reminder of what we had, and what we'll never make.
I still hold on to the memories of our past,
The laughter, the tears, the love that will forever last.
Oh, my love, can we find our way back?
Can we relive the moments, that made our love attack?
Can we rediscover, the love that we once shared?
I yearn for the days, when our love was unscarred.
Let's turn back the clock, and be what we used to be,
The love birds, who'd walk side by side, wild and free.
Let's rekindle the flame, that once burned so bright,
And make our love, a beacon, that shines through the night.
I was walking by a tree the other day…composing poems inside my head
when a breeze blew the tree’s branches open wide, “Would you like to climb? He said.
When I was a child I’d run right in and climb to the top…no fears
but I am so much older now…I haven’t climbed a tree in years.
“What if I’m not able?” I said…“What if I can’t remember how?”
The tree smiled, “I didn’t let you fall when you were young…
I won’t let you fall now”.
I looked up to the top of the tree remembering how I once soared…
and when he extended a branch to the ground…I happily climbed aboard.
I began to climb with all my might…I made it to a branch unscarred
I don’t remember when I was younger…that climbing was this hard.
I took my time on this climb…making frequent stops
before, with the tree’s branches offering support…I finally made it to the top.
I stood on a branch to catch my breath…a little tired but satisfied too
and as I swayed back and forth with the tree in the breeze…
I looked out and enjoyed the view.
As I held on to the top of the tree…I whispered in his ear…
“Thank you…for I had almost forgotten how beautiful it is up here”.
For a moment from my perch…I don’t think more happiness could be found
and I thanked the tree again as he helped me to the ground.
If today a tree opens it’s branches and asks if you’d like to climb…
climb up…climb up…don’t stop.
and don’t be surprised if there’s a smiling old man
waiting for you at the top.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I trace the ridges of my suffering~
each one a canyon carved by time,
a story etched too deep to fade.
But You—
You wear them now,
like sunlight wears the shadow,
like the tide wears the shore’s jagged teeth.
I do not know how hands unscarred
could choose to bear the marks of mine,
to let them graft onto Your skin,
as though they were always Yours.
And when I wake to the old ache
of guilt and shame,
their shadows still lingering in my bones,
I remember~
You took it.
Not in metaphor, not in theory,
but in flesh, in weight, in breath.
So here is my thanks,
not with pretty words that rhyme,
but with the quiet marvel
of a heart that no longer bleeds alone.
Too tired, i thought io myself, to lance this wound again
So I'll let the sufferings flow where no good tidings go
And we'll call it a truce in the end.
Oh, tell me once more,
How this life of ours should go,
Cause the words fall to the floor anyhow
And the small town girl's turned penthouse femme fatale
Oh but we knew how these city streets howl faux freedoms
In the face of the soft-skinned and weak minds
But mine's been all the weaker for believing poison is love
And I drank the barrel dry till I went blind to the holy light
Damn these tears and this darkness of soul
But if that's the case babe, mine's been rolling in coal
Oh, I ain't a scholar, nor master of schemes
just a two-bit pauper with sprawling rock-candy dreams
the letters don't fall into place like they did once before
And I don't search for the gold in folk's smiles anymore
I've been drowning in sin and the lifeblood of all lies
Worst part's been hiding a lost soul behind brown eyes
Tell me honey, how's life been to you?
Well, the winds tell me the sound's still alive and well
Ah, but the wind ain't so kind in the dark when your wrapped in loneliness
And broken strings on a battered guitar have lost the will to tell the tale
New strings sell good, but you pay with your heart
Aren't we running out of pieces by now ?
Well baby, meet me on the corner of 5th and eternity beyond
Of the hope and fiery passion we learned to burn in till we went wild
And can you find your way back to the stars babe?
And can you take me back to our unscarred years
before we spilled the blood of dreams not yet born
Are you ready mama?
Whisper it to me low...
In that voice of a longin soul...
Let's go.
© Robert
Form:
May swept in with heavy showers
Showers which bid me to shed off my attires
And bask in their glory!
The coldness of the waters hit my skin
And seemed to penetrate into my bones
Shaking me up from my barren slumber
And causing me to fight, once more
For the comfort that offers the shelter I was in!
May swept in with heavy showers
And started in me a storm
Lightning struck my heart
And thunder overwhelmed my soul
So much that a fire was sparked in me!
It started off and bid me to weave words
Words spun around a what if story
Words slowly and steadily amassing in me
Words, made of allure,
Words, made of dreams,
Dreams of what I had always deemed as being impossible
Dreams which lay, though, like they all do
In frail and fragile soap bubbles!
Yes, May swept in with heavy showers
And though I try to fight them
I cannot help but be drenched with their might!
Pray, come, maybe they shall leave me unscarred
When they shall give way to June!
Jerry had a big bad wolf
Who followed him to Sunday school,
Heaven school,
BrightLight toxic school,
Jerry had a big bad wolf
whose hair was black as coal,
black as death,
black as stole
his power soul,
Jerry had a big bad wolf
which was against the rule,
golden
non-violet
not black and blue
in nonSunday secular school
born against God's imaged
sacred tool,
Black through white
transparent in green goddess light
non-violet she-wolf black and bright
gratitude for godly thrival days
and wild goddess
wolf-bred
sacred nights,
Passions unscared
unscarred
without cosmic frights
restoring green peace
and non-violent just delights.