Long Unsent Poems
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How many words have gone by unwritten
thoughts sacrificed to summer's gentle breeze
whispers of mind slipping in unbidden
Often times happy with a playful tease
But others nudging a painful displease.
A note we meant to write, a card unsent
another birthday we somehow forgot
words of poetry, so clear our intent
lost in sunlight's laughter, as is his plot,
gaily gathering words we had once sought.
If we could capture those moments that pass
Write them in a small book we could carry
Think of the momentous times we'd amass
memories to pages we would marry,
and, unwritten words could perhaps tarry.
April 15, 2023
For "Writing Challenge--U Words Contest"
by Constance La France
howmanysyllables=10
Funeral for a Shadow
Today we buried a shadow.
No bells were rung, no mourners dressed in black, no names were carved into stone. Only the wind remembered where it once walked beside me.
They said, "How can a shadow die?" But they never knew that even darkness grows tired of carrying a broken heart.
I gathered the pieces of forgotten evenings, the echoes of laughter that no longer knew my name, and folded them like wilted flowers into a silent coffin.
The sun stood far away, unable to watch. The moon lowered her silver eyes, ashamed that she had witnessed so many unspoken goodbyes.
The trees whispered prayers through trembling leaves, while the river carried its gentle hymn, washing away footprints that once believed forever was possible.
At the grave, I laid no roses.
Instead, I buried old promises, half-written letters, unsent apologies, and every dream that waited at an unopened door.
The earth accepted them without judgment.
Then, something strange happened.
The shadow did not ask to be remembered.
It thanked me for finally letting it rest.
As dawn unfolded its quiet wings, I walked away alone—
yet somehow lighter than grief, stronger than sorrow.
For I had learned that not every funeral is for a person.
Some are for the versions of ourselves that loved too deeply, waited too long, and forgot that even the longest night must surrender to the morning.
So if you ever find a lonely grave with no name upon its stone, do not weep.
It may only be the resting place of someone's shadow—
and the birthplace of their light.
In the twilight's fading whisper, a solitary road unfurls,
A path unwinding, shrouded in mystery, where love and loss entwine like vines around the heart.
One way, no escorts, no turning back, no gentle hands to hold,
Just the echoes of memories, a lonely heartbeat, and the silence that remains.
It takes us unawares, this thief of moments, this reaper of dreams,
No warnings, no farewells, just the sudden jolt, the severed thread,
A pain that shatters, like the first cry of birth, yet infinitely more profound,
For in its depths lies the abyss of nevermore, a chasm that swallows hope.
No calendars mark its arrival, no clocks foretell its knock,
A stealthy intruder, claiming all, heedless of wealth or station, rank or name.
Rich and poor, it levels all, a universal reckoning,
Leaving naught but echoes, whispers of what once was, what could have been.
The severance is brutal, the grief a crushing weight,
The not knowing, the unseeing, the unheard heartbeat of a loved one's face,
The messages unsent, the words unspoken, the love unshared,
The communication severed, like a lifeline snapped, leaving only desolation.
When body and soul disengage, what remains?
A fleeting shadow, a wais coat left behind,
Questions swirl, a maelstrom of anguish, "Why? When? How?"
Yet the answers lie beyond the clouds, in realms unseen, unknowable.
In this life, we walk the edge of shadows, precarious, fragile,
Each breath a gift, each moment a treasure, though we seldom see.
And when the thread unravels, and our time is done,
May the love we shared, the memories we forged, be the solace that remains, the light that guides us home.
I notice the single placemat within the circle of noise,
Placing my phone on the cluttered side plate,
I can feel the Christmas spirit resonating through,
The crowd of extended families unwrapping each other’s joy,
A tear drops onto my unused napkin,
My mind races with memories of family togetherness,
The phone reminds me of the unsent WhatsApp messages,
I spot the waiting team slalom through the chairs,
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a waiter offering me the red, white, or rose wine,
I must have blanked out for a quick second or two,
As for some reason I chose the red wine,
I’m not a big fan of red wine,
I notice something unexpected,
A noise behind my ear struck me subtly,
Hesitantly I turn towards the surprising situation,
“Would you like to join us?” A lady to my left asks alongside her children,
Tears flood my unconscious shirt,
“No-one should be on their own” another added “Join us!”
I graciously accept after they make the decision for me,
They share that they are from Lincoln,
As they collectively lift the small square towards their table,
I can’t believe the surge of care that I’m being shown by strangers,
Stories were poured as the red wine wrote the words to a great Christmas Lunch,
I laughed to many a tale about their previous Christmas trips,
Smiles simmer in this cauldron of enjoyment,
The red wine even produced miracles,
Overcooked beef became irrelevant in the cape of chuckles,
To be included in such a positive way, real and not in a forced manner,
Opening the door to showcase the missing piece on the mantle of Christmas,
I’m glad I chose to go down the stairs,
I felt a little overwhelmed by all the morning family togetherness being showcased,
But my faith in humanity has been restored,
As long as the flickering light within the hand of Christmas remains,
I will try my best to rise to most challenges,
As today a small gesture had a hugely heartwarming effect,
A large impact that will not fade in time.
Lord you laid down your life for me
I am not worthy to even kiss your feet
Dusty words used on repeat seem weak
Unopened letters from heavy heart bleeds
I am so full of sin and selfishness
How can I write you when I am
Lost in the darkness of my worldly ways
Like a bat I hang upside down
Blinded by your light but praising you Christ
For the calligraphy of your heart
Wrote liquid loving words of faith
Your sacrifice saved my soul my life
And I am grateful yet blind
As to what word I can find
Great enough to describe you
How can I pray when words get in the way
Can I dance you a note
Filled with the Holy Ghost
Can turquoise tears I shed
Be a poem my eyes write
Each time I sin is like
Nailing you again to the cross
What letters can hearts write
To heal your wombs
The elephant in the room
Without you all are doomed
Thank you for forgiveness
Thank you for knowing me
Better than I know myself
I throw myself at your feet
Asking you to read my heart
We don't talk about it
Since hands upon the clock have ceased to move
When minutes creep, on skittish feet
The walls grow small~
By blue degrees, she drowns slowly
Waiting on skies which never clear
While she cuts holes in paper souls
Calling pain by prettier names
She is not invisible
Although she is unseen~
Cloudy skies have beauty, too
Dappled in blue's infinite base
But all the sunlight is full of smoke
Frost tipped flowers of summers fled
Into the wind of oblivion
Melancholy lullabies
Scattered like coins down wishing wells
Price of paradise
She lies and says that she is fine
When truth is too fearful to seek~
Here lies the grave of innocence
Guarding roses of agony
Too brief a heaven to reside
In vastness
We shall lie
Under a thousand eyes~
I am full
Of emptiness
The silence
Of severed hope
Sinking to
The floor of futility
Under the toll
Of heaven's weight
Distract my dark thoughts
New moon's amnesia
As the ground
Falls off my feet...
Her epitaph, an unsent letter~
It takes more sight
Than you would see
To love the soul
That belongs to me.
3/21/21
Fragments of Verse contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Written: September 20, 2024
For: Letters or Photographs Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Ink Empress
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A mound of unsent letters was under my pillow
Frozen in time, drifting through my fantasies
My rhymes are scribbled with secret poetry
some have brilliant gleams
others induce quiet cries.
I have a letter written in ink at daybreak
a liquid of warmth embraces every syllable
I saw your name and felt an immense longing!
how it gnaws on my chest as a ravenous beast.
I released my hands and let you sail
away from the solitude and heavyweight!
a spry touch from your forgotten memories
for me, a sweet delight, but oh my inner injury!
Our space is still
a shattered wand to touch my pained heart
with dryer life to perish in the shadows
the sun is setting, making it time to chat
down the soul, sipping from saturation straw.
Distant away, my desert hurts
love that will melt needles
rejecting thread for another morning stitching
with unfamiliar birds, who molt their feathers
the spindled leg has ungainly wings
Satan laughs as he burns the sand.
Prophets of haste lack words
erosion glass steeple returns home
this is the worst season ever known
Your Nimbus Breeze is limitless
burning your deed with the rust of logic
carving now in grey dust.
I can only write words that you will not foresee
gathering lost pebbles for eternity
draw up our sunken riches
these words of mirage, palm arms swaying
my black meeting reminds me
of a dream from yesterday on a forsaken planet.
“Everything I Never Said”
They called me quiet,
as if silence were a gift
as if it meant I had nothing to say.
But my silence
was never empty.
It was crowded
with unsent messages,
unfinished thoughts,
and feelings
that grew too loud
for a voice I never used.
I learned to hold words
at the edge of my tongue,
to swallow them whole
before they could exist.
Because the world
only listens to noise
and I was never loud enough
to be heard.
So I became smaller,
quieter,
easier to ignore
while inside,
I carried entire storms
that never found the sky.
No one saw
how my smiles trembled,
how my laughter arrived
a moment too late
like even my happiness
needed permission
to be real.
And maybe
I was afraid
afraid that if I spoke,
I would spill too much,
feel too much,
become too much.
So I stayed silent.
Not because I had nothing to say,
but because
I had everything.
if i have to stay another day it might just drive me mad
im counting weeks without a change, its been twenty nine
i just close my eyes and hope i’ll wake up fine
i just wait and see if i wake up to clear skies
not every meal should make me feel this nauseous
but now every number on the scale makes me more cautious
if i don’t think too much it almost feels like playing a game
my score goes higher the lower each digit gets
at least i’ll never turn to cuts and blades again,
at least not while i still have some common sense
i’ll just try to quietly erase myself
or at least i’ll make some changes while i play pretend
i’m looking for ways to disappear without a trace
right now it feels like that’s the best it gets
all my thoughts and prayers remain unsent
all letters to a god i don’t believe in
but i still wish he’d spare some time to try and save me
if he created me there’s no way he could forget me
at least i know i’ll never turn to cuts and blades again
at least not while i still have some common sense
I'm remembering our tender moments; how sweet was love
that filled pages of poetry you will never read, where I wrote of
my affection and things I no longer have the chance to say.
Words of passion, anger, and dreams that were swept away.
Melodies of memories I hold, still flow within my broken heart.
I try to console myself with writing you since we've drifted apart,
by recalling your voice as it gently whispered close to my ear.
Utterances that I'll not ever forget because I hold them dear.
Had I only imagined or fantasized that you loved me, too?
No, I knew your heart loved mine before we both vowed, "I do."
I remember the day you took my hand and knelt upon one knee.
"Yes!" I cried, and I saw the desire in your eyes for want of me.
I cannot chase those reveries away. Ones of your lilting laughter,
thinking we'd share that tethered treasure of love forever after.
Love; the greatest of all glorious gifts to each other we could offer,
more priceless than precious gems or coins that would fill a coffer.
You once asked me to write a pensive poem about a fallen star ~
A foreshadowing as I think back now, pondering where you are.
I wonder if you still think of me with the same thoughts I remember
or have you forgotten me as if there's not a spark left in that ember?
Once it burned brightly. I don't want to believe that could be true
for my heart still beats with longing and the yearning want of you.
I will close this letter in these wistful words, "With love, always."
Perhaps not the sentiment that I should fondly offer you these days.
Forgive the stains that have blotched the ink. They're from my tears.
I haven't managed to staunch their flow, even after all these years.
I addressed the envelope to our home, but it matters not one whit
that neither of us still live there. I know it's time that I get over it
but this letter will join the others I keep hidden inside a desk drawer.
Bound with crimson ribbon, written for a love I can no longer implore.