Long Unuttered Poems
Long Unuttered Poems. Below are the most popular long Unuttered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unuttered poems by poem length and keyword.
your moment of concentration
has me mesmerised
I'm no longer a poet ~
just a fool with unuttered longing
this day already drew its close
but I can steady my weary gaze
settle it upon you
all but your beauty ebbs away ~
I look on with tired eyes
"lit by a match"
I'm half dreaming ~
my favoured state
and you
within arm's reach
as I drift aloft
caught between the shadows and smoke
that swirl together
one last time
Inspired by The Sulphur Match by John Singer Sargent
My ears are sealed, forever bound by quiet/
A world of stillness, no sound can riot/
Yet my mind pulses, alive and aware/
With whispers and images you unknowingly share/
Every thought, unspoken and raw/
Every dream, every flaw/
They flow to me, a bittersweet stream/
Of joys, of sorrows, of hope, of esteem/
Your words, unuttered, cut me deep/
Your judgements linger, wounds that seep/
I yearn to mend the hate that you keep/
To wake the love in hearts asleep/
I see your regrets, the burdens you bear/
I glimpse the pain beneath the glare/
Life's weight is heavy, this much is true/
But why place that pain on me too/
For though I live in silence stark/
My soul is tender, it feels each mark/
So spare your scorn, your anger untamed/
There's kindness in you, don't leave it unnamed/
Quite far we have traversed, in pursuit of goals we chose,
Through troubles and trepidations of seasons in throes;
Sometimes reveling sunshine, sometime in glum of shadows,
Always together~ on barren terrains, or verdant meadows.
In albums of yore, we ruminate now, turning pages of life,
Banishing anguish of feelings-forlorn, fuming in strife;
Reminiscing in moments passionate, of love sublime,
Treasured in memories-beloved, accumulated over time.
Harboring wisdom, inlaid in life’s waning phase, as we age,
In realms of reflections, insights-sapient, now we engage;
Learning from knowledge gained, from choices we made,
Accepting with grace, laments of secrets, as yet unsaid.
Regrets unmitigated, voice remorse of unuttered sigh,
Seeking empathy from goodwill of repentant goodbye;
As life tallies good versus bad, that introspections confide,
Eying a tranquil state of mind, devoid of hate and pride.
It’s time to reflect, it’s time to mend, it’s time to befriend,
As journey of life, beaming content, approaches its end;
Living final days in covenants revered, humbly we penned,
Elevating self, in peace of bliss, to heavens we shall ascend.
There is a name the dusk will keep,
A low, unuttered thing—
It stirs beneath the olive leaves
And will not rise or sing.
Rocco, they said, as if a bell
Had tolled beneath the sea,
And something cold with jeweled eyes
Turned once, and looked at me.
No wind had moved, no branch had sighed,
Yet stillness grew so deep
I felt the world draw in its breath
As though it feared to speak.
Basalisk—O shadowed word,
With fire beneath its skin,
You walk the edges of the heart
And turn all longing thin.
For beauty held too long, they say,
Will harden into stone,
And eyes that dare to love too much
May petrify their own.
So let me pass with lowered gaze
Where quiet mercies lie,
Nor meet the gleam that stills the soul
And teaches it to die.
Yet somewhere in that silent dark
A fragile sorrow wakes—
For even stone remembers once
The shape that love could take.
To you, He is many things, too numerous to mention
But for now, He's a confidant beyond and above all others
He's the God whom you have learned to acknowledge and love
Not a human with whom at times you may have issues of trust
Not a human with whom there may be difficulties of understanding
Not a human, even the best of friends, who may render 'judgments'
He's your Lord and Savior, through whose name you approach The Father
He's your Heavenly Father with whom you have the best of a loving
relationship. A priceless love, unconditional and endless, never betraying, forsaking, or divorcing. He's your recipient of every thought conceived, every
prayer uttered or unuttered. He hears and entertains my meditations, hopes, and dreams, never turning a deaf ear. No human of any stripe nor type has
earned the right. But into His sacred heart is poured my most intimate issues from the deepest portions of my tainted heart where no other has dared to
trod. It's in my heart, as must also be in yours, precious and personal items preserved for the ears of The Most Holy, ever to remain unspoken and unwritten; to my God, a silent prayer.
03012019PoSoupContest, Pick A Title, Edward Ibeh;
Title picked: A Silent Prayer
A seed of love rests dormant in my heart.
Unable to get it sprout on fertile grounds,
It still lies thick and hard like a dried nut.
Can I hope, a cool shower of rain will soak it,
Causing it to sprout, strike roots and grow into a plant?
Now I am crushed under the marauding wheels,
Of a nameless pain, I can’t articulate.
Though I have bandaged my hurt long ago,
It peeps its head breaking the wrap,
Causing the wound to bleed from time to time,
And I get plunged into an unnamed pain.
No eyes are there to gaze on my despair,
But like a heavy log, it always burdens my heart,
And mournful sobs come out from me.
Just like the soggy surroundings,
Now, as a dull mist hangs in the air,
A sallow gloom invades me,
As an unwelcome odd- time intruder.
Though it had rained some time ago,
Dark clouds gather once more in the sky,
As if another shower could be expected.
Leaves still shed drops of tears
And time moves on at snail’s pace.
The happy world I once fashioned around me,
Has collapsed and memories call from the past.
His words- “Now that our pathways sever here,
Let us part’’- fell in my ears like a loud thud.
It was the greatest blow I ever received.
Now upon life’s highway, desolate I walk.
I am crushed under the marauding wheels,
Of a nameless pain, I can’t articulate.
Silence burns inside and thoughts bleed in silence.
In the dank confines of my soul,
This unuttered pain seeks redemption.
As I cannot open up my heart to any one,
Here I am, penning this poem,
Still aching, and my mind cracked and shattered.
Within every individual's mind resides a poem,
casting doubt on the assertion that each person is an island.
An internal dialogue permeates,
encompassing both positive and negative elements.
As I traverse the bustling street,
I observe others who may also perceive my presence.
Nevertheless, each of them harbors a poem within their innermost thoughts.
No matter where you end up on this planet,
You will never forget where you originate from
A mango tree is thriving in Brooklyn,
Though it may seem improbable.
However, it is still a mango tree.
However, where are the fruits,
Where are those concealed poems destined?
Will they return on the same route,
Will the verbs and nouns remain silent as well
While conveying unuttered expressions?
Did the Pied Piper know he would be deceived?
Was he aware a poem would emerge from his story?
Within every individual's mind resides a poem,
Eventually, someone will understand it correctly.
Lush stubby grass bends and sways
A perfect place to spend our day
Forever, it is spread, beneath our feet
Green carpet as far as the eye can see
Encompassing silence with its prickly touch
The sky so blue, with touch of gray
Appears to enjoy a game it plays
Gathering clouds that tease the sun
Who darts, and hides between each one
He sends a yellow ship that sails,
Upon a sea of flowering hills
We spread our blanket under the trees
And marvel at the fickle breeze
It takes a turn, from hot to warm
It soothes the brow, then cools us down,
We lunch with wine, French bread and cheese
Big apples, grapes, of red and green
We nap among the shady groves
Awakenend by the scent of rain
A run for cover beneath a bridge
We laugh like children, once again
And like ripples on a silent stream..
Dripping songs, and unuttered words
Sweet music is played.... new memories are heard
For Carol Brown's contest "Picnic Time"
Light evanesced upon his leaving
with the final choke of dusk--
the fragrance of orchids wisping softly
and I shiver...vapid, empty
clouds swallowing the kiln of lamppost-
and into the restless clang
from winds booming,
the dirge of hummingbirds stutters
which makes noises louder
than my groans-- the ceiling of sky
breaking like splinters of glass-
and among incandescent stars,
our distant, intermittent rendezvous
withers as my peppered tears grate
the bitter tincture of night's burial
from all his trespasses,
a body language
coiled in stale cocoon...his words
barbed as jailed verses ...
unuttered ,unsaid.
They’re not for you
Nor you for them
Unwritten words from unwritten pens
Like shades of white
Blanks on a page
Unwritten words in an unwritten age
They speak in volumes
Though tongues may fail
Unwritten words that tell no tale
The poem that’s never penned
The bell that’s never rung
The hero who’s unheralded, unsung
For words unwritten
Are without heed
That none the wiser will ever read –
Unuttered words
Are words unheard
By man or beast or woodland bird
They give no voice
To mice or man
To emulate, evolve, or take a stand
And with no voice
No song to sing
The robin sighs and folds its wings –
Unspoken words
Are words unknown
In aching solitude adrift, alone
Unexpressed
And lost in time
As beacons in the night that never shine