Long Unspeakable Poems
Long Unspeakable Poems. Below are the most popular long Unspeakable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unspeakable poems by poem length and keyword.
In the memory of Eden, when we flew innocently,
In the nights of dreams, in the bittersweet garden, we met,
You were the pure flower, I was the divine tree,
In a long-gone era, when I was younger, serene.
I didn't know you were a woman, and I a simple man,
With timidity, together we stepped into an unspeakable dream,
In tears and in cries, we felt a sweet life,
When I was younger and my unconscious soul was engulfed.
That night got lost in the abyss of fleeting time,
Our bodies forgot their sweet chant,
The fruits from the tree carry your taste within,
Waiting to fall in stellar times, in a late autumn.
Oh, Holy Lord, make Adam just a man,
To renounce the tempting apple and the desires beyond the empty mud,
To see in each day's mirror the reflection of his own nature,
To feel the tumult and beauty of a humble humanity.
Oh, Holy Lord, make Adam understand that power lies within,
Not in the forbidden fruit that gives ephemeral knowledge,
To find fulfillment in simplicity and love that requires nothing,
To rise from the shackles of sin and from the chains of debauchery.
Oh, Holy Lord, make Adam look into Eve's eyes,
Not as the object of temptation, but as a partner in humanity,
To desire to share life, joys, and sorrows together,
To create gardens of love and understanding in a transient and passing world.
Oh, Holy Lord, make Adam comprehend the charm of earthly life,
To appreciate the beauty of nature and cherish creation with love,
To be a wise and gentle human, a worthy representative of humanity,
Rising above ephemeral desires, towards eternity and everlasting.
Oh, Holy Lord, make Adam just a man,
To live with wisdom and walk humbly on earth,
To learn from his experiences and guide others as well,
To feel your infinite love and spread it through every word and deed.
Find that sweet spot, between awareness and inaction
Out to find me?
search by the sea
breathe the brine seasoned air
bathe in the great soundless sound
watch the empire of the repeating sea
which comes and goes for unknown reasons
not for a day or for a season
but forever
Out to find me?
search by the sea
you’ll find me under cloud nine
gazing seaward for long slippery moments
I romanticize my inability to focus
but the sea is a great thief of time
its pitches keeping time
to some gravitational clock.
There - see him?
the tall sun-burned man
he is my playfellow
- how, is sealed between us -
but his tristful visage quickens my heart
- he has exceeded all promise
great loves have died
great seas have dried
the threatening is most sea-like
astringent, overwhelming
promising griefs unspeakable
without him I am unrooted
and utterly unfixable
Out to find me?
search by the sea
that wide and universal theatre
is the potent scene we play in -
he is with me - we two are joined
with the stubbornness of fortune
- we were wrought by nature -
and you cannot fight a natural sea
.
.
Songs for this:
please please please let me get what i want by She & Him
Hearts working overtime by Born At Midnite
Pacific Ave by Pearl & The Oysters
To get a phone call in the middle of the
Night is drear.
A man from the El Paso Texas Police
Department is on the line.
It would appear
This is about my daughter. I am now wide
Awake and filled with an unspeakable fear.
I hear the old grandfather clock chime.
To get a phone call in the middle of the
Night is drear.
The pounding in my chest is so severe.
Bottom line
It would appear
That after five long years
Of searching I no longer have my sunshine.
To get a phone call in the middle of the
Night is drear.
Whoa! Back up! What did I hear?
Your sending my daughter home to me
On the greyhound bus and this is her
Pick up time.
It would appear
She has had one powerful overseer.
All I could do was cry. Finally I whispered
Thank you for protecting and restoring
My faith that was in a decline.
To get a phone call in the middle of the
Night it would appear
That this time it wasn't so drear.
I confess that as a child the ruthless caused me
crippling pain with deeply wounding words and
bodily attacks that led me to falter through life.
I confess that various family member’s inflicted
incessant cruel criticisms that wholly damaged
my character leaving a soul shattered in shame!
I confess that all of these hypercritical people
painted me with a dark psyche and their evil
assumptions resulted in an imprisoned stigma.
I confess that during childhood the intolerant
labels of shy, odd and withdrawn caused me to
be ostracized while living in utter humiliation.
I confess that I pray every day to be set free from
the shackles they’ve built all around me, leading to
my many missteps for which I beg for compassion.
I confess that in elementary school, my hands were hit
until they bled for laughing. Then my father punched me
in the face for laughing destroying any possibility of joy.
I confess to having fast and frequent flashes of the
details of the horrors committed against me causing
doubt of whether I blacked out during the worst of it.
I confess to being stuck in my adolescence probably
between 6 and 12 yrs. old and can’t remove myself
from that timeline, so, I plead, how do I move on?
I confess that I’m a contrite and lowly spirit,
with innate hopes as a child of God that His
eyes will only see a gentle and broken spirit.
I confess that my brokenness is impossible to
mend due to the atrocities inflicted. I tried to be
silent for so long drowning in unspeakable hurt.
I confess to never evolving as an adult due to
severe childhood trauma, and as such, it is
necessary to speak to me as if I were a Child!
I confess to praying most urgently for the wicked
to cease from inflicting unbearable anguish on
God’s frail ones according His Word:
“Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to
sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were hung
around his neck and he were thrown into the sea.” Mark 9:42.
As the heat of the rain pierces the thirsty
bosom of the earth harassed by the great heat of summer
, And as arid and suffocated, it drinks, and nourishes the plants
Burned by the sun, displays vitality, childbirth, gladness,
Your image, fountain of dreams wrought by my thoughts,
Penetrates gently through all the pores
Of my soul soiled in the struggle of burning hatreds,
Of sad and silent moments, and of daily cares.
Like a heady perfume spread by tenderness
Which seizes the intoxicated and subjugated soul in its palace
And lulls it with memories and unspeakable dreams,
Immaterial arms ardently
embrace My exhausted thoughts and my dark meditations
When your eyes are reflected in the lake of love of my heart...
Just how much does Jesus love me?
Just how much does Jesus love me?
Just how much does Jesus love me?
Jesus loves me more than all of the fishes
that swim in the darkest and deepest seas.
Jesus loves me more than all of the stars
shining like diamonds in the evening skies.
And always I am asking him why!
Why did Jesus give me the gift of harboring
songs within my heart? Why did Jesus keep
giving me brand new starts each and every day?
Why does Jesus guide me day after day?
Always giving me the right words to
write all of you and say! Jesus Christ
faithfully promises to love even me for
always. Forever and forever more!
Jesus Christ freely redeemed me from
all of my habitual sins. Jesus grants joyful
peace unspeakable deep within my heart.
Daily he comforts my inner soul.
His love for me is more valuable than
diamonds. And much more precious
than either silver or gold. Money can
never buy. All the peace of mind
I have deep inside of me.
Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! Shed his precious
blood for me on Calvary! He gave
his life to set my spirit free from sin.
Someday soon at the rapture
he promises to return for me again.
I am to become one of his watchmen
until then!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
April 27, 2020
Hankering for brighter days
Sacred lights sparkling purposefully
Stars giving it all to create pleasing atmosphere
Ushering me out of the deep shadows,
To discover my path through trenches of unspeakable wickedness
With my mind clouded by despair,
Yet willing to reach the frontier
Where peace is not an illusion
Simply a pathway to harmonious world
Augmenting the will to live…
Perceive brightness rising above…
Sunshine winking at the window…
Feel it when rain comes down on me
Sharing blessings with the world,
While listening to melodies from enchanted gardens
Moonlight passionately breathing upon me
Steering the pursuit for justice
Yearning for brighter days to embrace me
Hear humanity singing delightful songs…
Experiencing life changing moments
Freedom decorating the world with love
Fortified by heartfelt promises…
Continue marching towards the crown
To witness the eagle landing on the moon,
Regain that selfless courage,
And return to my ancient hut as spirited warrior
Hoping my heart will cherish the experience
For glorious destiny awaits us all,
In a world polished with peaceful memories
Great empathy manifesting everywhere
Everyone’s rights being realized,
With selfless kindness taking the focal point…
Humankind teaming up to compose musical piece
Assuring the whole reborn world,
That brighter days’ have landed!
I am in a sanctuary where people do unspeakable things.
Things they would never do with people watching.
Things they would not want mothers to know about.
There are lots of shadows; the floor feels wet and cushiony.
I hear the screech of an eagle, spotting prey.
Turn my head to see it swoop down 150 feet from me.
Another screech, then silence.
Twigs snap as I gingerly look for snakes.
Cobwebs get tangled in my hair;
It has been awhile since a person was here.
I stop at a creek, and look at the pebbles.
Wondering if they have ever been touched.
I pick through them, select three, pocket them.
Wild violets are next to the sandy riverbank;
Unseen, unappreciated.
I trip over tree roots as
I walk to a fallen tree, climb up, and sit.
The unparalleled silence calls for reverence.
I lie on the log and poke the forest floor
With a stick, finding mushrooms and moss.
I like the feeling
Of the sun on my back in this tiny
Break in the forest.
I hear a rustling noise,
Turn,
A deer has been startled.
I get a glimpse of her white tail.
It is a sanctuary here; my church.
~It Is Written~
(Rhyme)
As I begun one day my poems to write
Excitement in my soul built up
Constructing every sentence was a pleasure
This clearly to my heart delight
Tension with exhilaration mounts too
With every word I need another one to find
Words in my mind with extreme heat I pursue
Little by little from my soul they begin to unwind
With unspeakable joy I make them fit and then score
As thoughts from my brain flash and unraveled right
Bringing better words than they were before
Again to possess them with exact words I write
My soul from above ascends with all this divined joy
Than with pleasure from writing my verses I still enjoy.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2004
September.14.2015
Musing Lately
Let’s just say
with my husband now having heart troubles and my
being old (& bedridden while waiting for my new prosthetic-leg) makes for on-going thinking, remembering, observing, reflecting, tentatively concluding, believing
how the ineffable ultimately rules…and one’s
language (for all its commanding need to be used with a true Love ) finds w
o
r
d
s
to be less than their expressive task f
a
i
l
(despite even some i
divine inspiration)
n
g
to cast some light brighter
than the humble votive’s flame flickering in the heart —
Or more than the one tear — felt but unseen' — in the corner of the eye, bringing along its cathartic story …ready to fall down over the cheek…
Or to realize (especially after 40 years togerther) that devotion lives well beyond a 3-word statement in heights carried there by a tried, spiritual touching of our auras in the room: lives aligned for better or worse in the profound music that our closeness creates. The poems are born in being or feeling before the written.
(c) sally young eslinger 7/13/24**
In my youth, i was a devotee of James Joyce and Samuel Beckett. (Beckett even sent me a hand-written letter in response to one i sent him.). I pretty much memorized “Waiting for Godot.” Joyce and Beckett both saw words dissolving — into the ineffable. Some powerful poems lead us there, but that there, I’ve found is in the unspeakable.