Long Unshared Poems
Long Unshared Poems. Below are the most popular long Unshared by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unshared poems by poem length and keyword.
One day, I will leave on a path of mist and dreams,
to an unknown place where silences whisper eternal stories,
into a secret mountain hidden on the maps of my heart,
where the shadows of the past dance under the gentle sunset.
One day, I will leave with steps of wind that carry my desires,
with a suitcase full of memories flowing like a river of endless longing,
carrying with me what I feel, an ocean of emotions crashing against shores,
what I love and understand, like a flower opening under the gaze of the moon.
In the mountain's silence, I will find echoes singing old soul harmonies,
and in its quietude, I will rediscover parts of myself lost in the waves of time,
for each rock is a page from a journal of wandering souls,
and each breeze carries stories of unshared love and longing.
One day, I will leave behind shadows of steps and forgotten whispers,
with the thought that the mountain will welcome me as an old friend,
in a silent embrace where past and present intertwine,
like a tapestry of stars on the sky of an endless night, without regrets.
She sacrifices herself,
on an altar of secrecy.
Leaving the best of her,
on the cold stone of iniquity!
Hidden behind a smile of "I'm okay",
she says she can't remember yesterday.
Yet those scars on her bitten lip,
have a different message to say.
She shuns her femininity,
the reminder of her misery.
Locked within an artist's mind,
freedom exchanged for insanity!
St. Peter offers some treasured relief.
Yet in her mind she's trapped underneath,
the weight of a man now dead and gone.
Ensnared within her forgiveness belief!
Time doesn't heal,
because she never reaches out.
Frustration expressed, in each strangled shout.
Clinging to the fragments she never talks about.
Pieces of evidence are everywhere,
top to neck clothing and short cut hair.
That once carefree girl who is no longer there.
Now she adheres to rules of right and fair.
Cracking jagged shards bottled up inside.
She doesn't believe her broken needs repair,
sometimes the victim is sadly unaware.
So she occupies the shadow lands of being scared,
relief is elusive for her thoughts remain unshared.
Her a silent prisoner with soul insnared,
sacrificed by a monster who pretended he cared!
Form:
Love
From the greatest joy
Comes the greatest sorrow.
In the laughter of today
Hides the tears of tomorrow.
A first smile, a first step
A first word saying your name
The first illness, first fall
When mom can't stop the pain.
To be a super hero
Takes just a Band-Aid on a boo-boo
Broken hearts and constant fears
Unshared by those given care to.
But when they grow, they understand
The pain not stopped with ease.
The pain of rejection, of broken dreams,
Lost loves, and wounds like these.
Hero mom has lost her cape
Can't kiss it better anymore
But has to keep on feigning strength
To somehow wholeness restore.
But for every barb that wounds our child
One hundred rip our flesh
The strength outside and the torture within
Would never seem to mesh.
Each time I think it can't get worse
My assurance is swept away.
I got the call this Friday last,
"Mom, my love just died today."
I'd rather I had died myself
Than watch the grief this deals.
I know it's worst when she's alone --
I know just how she feels.
And yet I know from loving her
Great joy comes from great sorrow.
So we cling unto the hope
We'll shed tears of joy tomorrow.
What is this sense of being?
That I am, I have been, I will be-- is it a blessing
to ever feel time's razor edge, gathering its moments in my
memory as a squirrel hoards its seeds and nuts for winter,
food I will eat when my youth has long since melted down?
Or is it a curse other animals are spared: to know that
uncalled day will arrive, rudely, perhaps violently--
the one day we are bred to fear?
Yet for some unshared reason I have never feared that cold
day, that day of burning ice--not as a child, when I sensed it
signaled a return to heaven's luxurious playground, nor as a
young man when I thought dying to be no more than oblivion's mask.
Now I know death is only a sleight-of-hand, a party trick
of that great illusionist, Time, who is itself but a vapor,
a wisp of smoke veiling eternity....
I dwell amongst the byways of my past,
My heart unsettled in the present day,
Only in dreams am I correctly cast,
Performing in a happy ending play,
Where all the other players know their part,
And one, in truth, is closest to my heart.
The stage is set within a northern town,
Just one of many on the Great North Road,
The scene is grey and just a bit rundown,
With nature's blessings scantily bestowed.
Yet sweetly blooms a rose, as roses do,
And in my dreams, my love, the rose is you.
A cherry flowering midst the winter gloom,
Unruly clouds a windswept dance perform,
Upon the breeze, a summer-sweet perfume,
A rainbow vibrant in a sudden storm.
Unshared with you, they're seen as through a veil,
All joy is tempered, colours drained to pale.
When blessed sleep enfolds me in its arms
My half-life day is banished out of mind.
Your loving presence once more charms and calms,
As one forever, our two hearts entwined.
With youthful aspiration yet instilled,
Would that my waking hours were as fulfilled.
Sick with longing for you, for the scent that entwines the morning air with unfulfilled desire,
I lose myself in your eyes, a tempting labyrinth, dancing with hidden desires,
Your voice, like a gentle breeze, carries whispers to the edge of the night,
The sky bends to listen to our stories, the stars illuminate the paths of fate.
Sick with the longing that disturbs my peace and memories that burn like falling stars,
Every moment together becomes a universe where your heart is revealed,
Your presence resonates in every heartbeat, a secret hidden in silence,
Between words, you appear as a mystery that cannot be captured in oblivion.
Sick with your smile, with the gaze that gives me chills and awakens sanctity,
Like an altar in my soul, where all you are meets the desire for love,
Reviving the world in the colors of love, writing the story on the night sky,
A love unshared until now, in verses that conquer the spaces of destiny.
Sick with your shadow, like a secret melody accompanying me through time,
When the moon dances in the sky, and the stars softly sing my thoughts,
Every note becomes an unspoken longing for you, finding no solace,
I remain a smoldering fire, my longing burning eternally, without cure.
Sick with time, a merciless enemy, refusing to stop the rare moment,
When you are in my life, every second rushes toward evening horizons,
Leaving behind my bewildered heart, yearning for eternity in love,
Living a single heartbeat, like an eternal and profound feeling.
Sick with longing for you, without escape, but I would choose no other solace,
Your longing is the flame that gives me strength to face the days ahead,
I love with an intensity that makes my soul vibrate in secret,
Your love remains the only treasure, in a world of illusions and shadow.
Two Taurus husbands
intending to nurture shared truths
of Win/Win
organic mind/bodies
engaging Earth's interdependent communion
To discover our conflicting
and often unshared
half-baked thoughts
intentions
anticipations
in articulate and marvelously punctuated language,
rhythm,
lexicon of meta-confluent function
and integrally warm
co-gravitating flow
like butta'
To uncover,
recover,
rediscover
our therapeutic seeds
and traumatic weeds,
cooperative hopes
and conflicting transracial despairs,
repeatedly,
co-passionately,
authentically,
resonantly
and, at last, co-arising
Yummy regenerative treats,
communication strings of ecstatic recreation,
spectral sights
and savory sounds
and bouncy muscular rebounds
of potential co-redemption
Healing,
anticipating rom-com therapeutic curiosity,
resiliently co-engaging discovery
re-connecting beloved EarthTribe communities
re-developing health-wealthy outcomes
Slowly replacing
traumatic stress disorders,
binging on hate crime dramas,
and RightWing atrocities
against sacred EarthMothers
and green innocence
While wintering and withering
deep seated desperation
in life's last retiring
isolated
lonely recliner.
In a corner of the soul, where dreams intertwine with reality,
She told him a secret, like a leaf whispering to the mysterious wind,
He opened his heart, like a book read under the moonlight,
She believed that friendship was the thread that tied their stories,
He saw how love wove shadows between their hearts.
When the chills of weakness enveloped him, she was his pillar of light,
When clouds of sadness covered his smile, he was the morning rays,
She laughed, believing that laughter was just a game between two friends,
He smiled, knowing her laughter was the song of unspoken love.
Not a moment passes without him wanting her, to have her close,
She, who sees friendship as a gentle flame in the night,
He, who saw love as a fire that consumes and rebirths.
In the silence between words, in the glances that do not meet,
An untold story is woven, a dance of voiceless desires,
She, dreaming of friendship as a safe harbor in a storm,
He, hoping that love is the ship that carries them to a shared horizon.
And so time passes, with unseen wings of longing and dreaming,
She, with the sweet smile of friendship on her lips,
He, with the bitter taste of unshared love in his soul.
In a world where silence speaks more than any word,
They live the story of a friendship that hides an eternal love.
Laughter filled our home
Sweet voice anchored our home
The finger that was always pointing
Sucked finger made a lifetime mark
Elegance was her middle name
Confidence was her best friend
Humour was the twinkle in her eye
Oooh,that temper,say no more
Those eyes said it all
Her body language told a story
Her dark skin guided her life
Her natural hair showed who she was
She was quite unknown
Stories left untold
Experiences left unshared
Goals left unachieved
She is part of my world
She is part of me
The only one who knew her was me
The only one who knows her is me
Only me,Mamntakhwende
Since childhood,
as alexithymia struck my soul.
I kept all my hopes a secret,
hidden in a bucket of unshared dreams.
I kept my soul sweet like marshmallows,
but life has finally caught up with me,
Like a fast car overtaking recklessly,
leaving me behind in the slow lane -
and I'm running out of fuel.
I'm a vehicle of flashbacks from flashlights,
fatigued from embracing the old,
preparing for freshly brewed emotions.
Yet they deprive me at every dawn,
as new beginnings are always challenging.
Suffocating in this silent selcouth slumber,
life tries to call my bluff, when it knows,
I am the master of my masquerade.
My soul pleads with fate to usher me with belief,
but I can see death at my doorstep,
creating intrusive insecurities like termites,
eating away at branches of my sanity,
feeding upon my ordained Orphic glory.
Emotions are an interior mechanism,
so many remain fooled by my exterior,
but I'm tired of searching for salvation.
You who claim to love me,
gift me a scented candle made with your hands,
so its sentimental scent can bring me peace.
Take me to a place without a name,
without a label,
without judgment -
without suffering.
Unchain me from jeapordising January jitters.
Free me from meandering in misty meadows,
which have misplaced me in foggy morning sunshine -
bring me clarity.
These are not random thoughts, random poems,
because my ink is tired from trying to find new metaphors,
to supplement an abundance of alliterations,
portraying humble happy horizons.
Love can be a false emotion,
when we yearn for reciprocal ravishing redamancy,
but when was love ever equal or even fair?
I have no resolutions, just to breathe with ease.
Sometimes love's presence made me feel aesthetic,
but sometimes a badly drawn self portrait.
You can stay or leave, but do come back,
hold on, but not too tight that it chains my wings.
When I ascend, please, miss me,
so my spirit flies back to you.
Can you not see the irony?
We accumulate many reasons to die,
but search for only one reason to live.
Ask yourself which oxymoron are you?
Dying to live or living to die?
*Alexithymia
A person's inability to recognise or describe ones own emotions
* Redamancy
a love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you; the act of loving in return