Long Unspoke Poems
Long Unspoke Poems. Below are the most popular long Unspoke by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unspoke poems by poem length and keyword.
December
It's the last month of the year
This year took me by surprise
Never thought that this year
My mom would have died
Lord knows I've cried
Lord knows I've prayed
Lord knows I'm thankful
For the years he gave
She was with us 30+ years
Forever in our hearts
Your legacy will live on
We will keep your name alive
We will thrive ??
December is a new start
December things can change
I've decided to turn my pain
Into smiles
I'm super blessed
I promise in December
I will not be stressed ??
I will give it my best
This month is an opportunity
This month is for growth ??
This month is for blessings left unspoke
This month is for visions that turn into reality
This month is for you
And definitely for me
This month is for miracles
Wait, watch, and you will see
Lord, I thank you
Lord, I praise you
When I think of my life
And where I could have been
If you wouldn't have never washed away my sins,
December is for new beginning and new winnings
Yes
December is for passing all test
December is for telling my story
In the midst of my tears ??
I still give him Glory
December just started
I am ready
To be led by thee
Walk in his word
Do what he needs in order for me to succeed
To My family and friends
Keep your head up and chin
We are king and queens
Destined to win ??
As we end this year
One thing I know
Is that God
Is always in control
Written by Concetta Hardnett
12/1/2024
At the far end of the casket,
his girlfriend hugged his wife
And told her she was sorry,
that she had tried to steal her life
Their tears then ran in unison,
for a man who loved them both
The years they shared now testament,
to a choice he left unspoke
They never met before this day,
and would never meet again
But each knew well the other,
and they almost felt like friends
The mistress left, the children wept,
and the grandchildren played outside
As his wife looked down, saying: “Your hell has passed,
sleep well my love—goodbye”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
At the far end of the casket,
his girlfriend hugged his wife
And told her she was sorry,
that she had tried to steal her life
Their tears then ran in unison,
for a man who loved them both
The years they shared now testament,
to a choice he left unspoke
They never met before this day,
and would never meet again
But each knew well the other,
and they almost felt like friends
The mistress left, the children wept,
and the grandchildren played outside
As his wife looked down, saying: “Your hell has passed,
sleep well my love—goodbye”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
Who only Honor can, must never Love!
(And Yet, he Loves, all hidden and unspoke!)
Who hath Heart sworn to Holy Spirit Dove,
Can never break what must remain unbroke!
Yet words a-tangle mesmerize him, still!
They speak in echoes and tangential cries.
They do not dare the sacred chalice to spill
And yet he holds the image of her eyes
As jewels to look on, filled with misty hope
O! Would that I were he, that I might love,
And in my loving, hold the higher rope
But this, my friends, bears never thinking of,
For thinking leads to yearning, that, to doing,
When he that Loves must end his hope’s pursuing.
O, cruel Time...thou silent thief of breath,
Whose fingers trace the fragile veil of death;
Thou weav’st the hours in threads of grey,
Till love itself doth pale away.
Thou tak’st our laughter, sweet and brief,
And turn’st it into dust and grief;
Thou swallow’st faces, soft and fair,
Till none recall what once was there.
The heart’s confessions, still unspoke,
Lie buried deep where echoes choke;
The tender glance, the trembling vow,
All perish...none remember how.
Yet in thy wake, though all decays,
Some fire endures through mortal haze;
For words once breathed with soul’s intent
Outlast the frame that Time hath bent.
So love whilst hearts are yet entwined,
Lest silence chain thy speech confined;
Proclaim thy truth ere night unfold—
Time may erase me, but my words are told.
And thou...hast thine been told?
Poetry is a prolonged kiss from the kingfisher's lips.
The interpreted being of a hummingbird’s wings.
The things you do or the things you don’t.
The things you say and the things left unspoke.
The truth, the lies, the half-full hopes.
The light, the dark,
the near and far, almost there’s.
Euphemisms. Nights spent in alleys.
Alone, apart, together at heart.
The life, the aches, the losses
new beginnings, lovers, losers.
Regret.
Regret.
Regret.
Nature, art, destruction,
or the remnants of.
Winners,
haves and have-nots.
Have you ever danced or chanted naked around a bonfire?
That is a poem.
What is a poem?
You.
What a gift it’s been
to be alive at the same time as your pretty face.
At the far end of the casket,
his girlfriend hugged his wife
And told her she was sorry,
that she had tried to steal her life
Their tears then ran in unison,
for a man who loved them both
The years they shared now testament,
to a choice he left unspoke
They never met before this day,
and would never meet again
But each knew well the other,
and they almost felt like friends
The mistress left, the children wept,
and the grandchildren played outside
As his wife looked down, saying: “Your hell has passed,
sleep well my love—goodbye”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
Taken sideways, swept as a web strung spider
Sand sugar legged staggered specimen lured by weightless
Drifters soon to be lifted by unruly tide's violent
Fears ditched for the squall enthrall of ocean fizzed caress
Bolstered by booming blue brew, cork floated
Swell surmounts without pattern or rationale, contankerous
Bobbed from below, five foot heads promoted
Bounced jack in boxes sprung from rolling realm rapturous
By tide's untimed tumult, sea steamed unite
Sapphire stew participants simmer, softening vegetables
Drawn to next wily wave, crest conquer delight
Drag of salt soaked slow motion moon cascade incredible
Roaring turquoise rise, crumb humans crafted
Into toys at mercy of lapis lazuli, control's essential revoke
Track formation, tremor with desirous laughter
Brought to cool commotion by compulsion utterly unspoke
26th September
- For Ace -
At the far end of the casket,
his girlfriend hugged his wife
And told her she was sorry,
that she had tried to steal her life
Their tears then ran in unison,
for one who loved them both
The years they shared now testament,
to a choice he left unspoke
They never met before this day,
and would never meet again
But each knew well the other,
and they almost felt like friends
The mistress left, the children wept,
and the grandchildren played outside
As his wife looked down, saying “your hell has passed,
—sleep well my love, goodbye”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
That one lost their tongue
somewhere along the way
long ago, the sound,
doesn’t come out the same
anymore, so they roll it up
like a carpet containing
a nakedly dead body
of blunt words
like unplucked violins
untuned to how it all
really works
begging to be heard,
and the flowery prose,
purple and bruised
like over-ripe fruit
teeth rottingly sugary sweet,
is now seen
day-in-and-night-out,
struggling with ease
way too much
like madness overgrown,
the dense overgrowth
of language unspoke
hides glittering gems
blushing shamefully
more exquisite than
the now daily averies
all penned in babel
that flow in glass jarring
anticipated patterns
of suffocating
paisley prose,
the simple beauty
in the plainly spoke,
never again
to be seen nor heard,
the mercurial metaphors
birdfeed scattered
to the begging migrations
of petulant bluebirds
naughty nightingales
honey trapping
wet-beaked hummingbirds
all beating hearts
with their wild wind flapping,
tossing sticks and stones
to those tongue thirsty
kiss lapping, lap dancing
love parched, gargling
swallows
Candide Diderot. ‘24