Long Without expression Poems
Long Without expression Poems. Below are the most popular long Without expression by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Without expression poems by poem length and keyword.
The Apology
And yes, Joan, was there a time I said there could be a tomorrow?
And when did I say our love would last forever?
Want the moon? It’s yours! The sun? You can have it!
Only that I would be a joker fulfilling a role that doesn’t suit me;
I am what I am. Loving life is wonderful.
Please don’t look at me as if I were some cruel beast,
Scheming and stalking prey for the feast.
We never seem to agree; our wants and needs are different.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I misled you into believing
We were sharing. I wasn’t taking advantage of the situation.
I am caring, but I was naïve and too immature to take that leap.
I couldn’t feel your feelings. Your look was casual,
Without expression, and now I see the hurt in your eyes.
No wonder you despise me: the loathing, the hate,
And I am ashamed for being so mean
And treating you carelessly, without remorse.
There were memories, Joan, intimate and personal,
That I will cherish, and I did make you smile.
And now, after all is said and done, the distance grown,
I apologize.
“Memories Leave Silently”**
The memories leave silently
so as not to disturb the now
tiptoeing through darkening corridors
stirring only motes of hidden dust.
Sliding through the grasp of weakened will,
unfelt amid the growing numbness
now – disconnected from – then
how – in search of – why.
Eyes search the familiar – for the known
lips form words without expression
tears – devoid of sting – dry saltless
memories leave – silently.
John G. Lawless
1/16/2016
**This poem was prompted by the phrase “memories leave silently” in the poem “A Time To Let Go” written by Silent One on PoetrySoup.
Legend of Fosse Way
Riding hard under a moonlight high
not a leaf rustling and it troubles my mind
In the distance there's music of the lyre and flute
rippling over the moors
Serenading the stars
The voice of a maiden
bleeds it's way through the thick darkness
Singing an ole Bawdy Pub Song.
My steed swift at a gallop
hooves sound their click clack
As we cross Halford Bridge
No time to be wasted
seeking comfort at the Inn
History demands I deliver this message
The dispatch I carry holds the future of England
I must make Exeter Castle by dawn.
No matter the risk or danger I encounter
It is crucial that I press on
Two Queens vying for the throne of England
Not even God can decide which be the righteous one
Protestant or Catholic not the reason for choice
A Queen must have love for Mother England
coursing through her blood
Forrest fairies ring the bells on the Fox Glove
The Oaks without expression and still
A rare breeze slaps the sleeping grasses in the glades
In the marsh toads croak complaint to night’s chill
This road is dominion of Highwaymen and thieves
Robbing those that choose this way to travel.
By the will of God and the Bishop's blessing
I will pass undetected by scoundrels and rabble
Nourished only on bread and Brambleberries
Traveling in the cover of night taking sleep by day
All that I've seen are ghosts of Roman soldiers
On this thoroughfare known as Fosse Way
If by the hand of God or the Devil
I meet with an untimely death
And I am unable to tell tale of this ride
Let not my story meet the same fate
Say my name Nigel Foster be mentioned in yarns
told in pubs and taverns .
History will decide if I am a Patriot or Traitor
As a result of my actions
When the years pass into the future
Don't let me be a lost memory of yesterday
If by chance may I live on
as one of the many legends
The many legends of Fosse Way.
Inspired by Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman"
And in memory of my distant relative,
Robert Devereux 2nd Earl of Essex.
Judge Santiago Burdon
©2019
"Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder"
Rumi
a concrete heart now
resembles feathered textures
like a house made from lace
words which were once ignored
now wound through tormented thorns
life is like pages of petals withering in winter
and fate a butterfly without a blossom -
in an analogy of caterpillar cruelty,
predators feast upon cocoons
but in an upside world with endless doors
and disappearing stairs -
there is no where to escape
in an orchard of naked trees,
a gardener cries without seeds,
breathing, but barely existing,
like a poetic muse without his ink
colourless confetti drifting
like moonlight in daylight
his soul is a conquered fortress
an empty vase with cracks
a flame unable to kindle
his spirit is an anchored vessel
he has composed a song,
but he has no orchestra
a battered punching bag
without a boxer
he can recall when rain
poured in musical colours
when mirrors were pleasant
and shadows did not follow
time seems to reverse,
and all he can see are faces
without expression
without tender nourishment
only cold horizons flourish,
so he buries romance
into a loveless tomb.
Simple Musing
(And clearing my mind)
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
Oft times, without expression
I’m caught staring into space.
Where temporarily I’ve been ushered
To some bygone time or place;
Re-experiencing events, in living color
But without surrounding sound;
Blanked out, are poignant matters
Which earlier had thoughts bound;
But too soon realism is restored
And I hark back to a familiar place.
Whatever problems that may persist
I’ll be doing my best as I face.
Don’t lose sleep over what others might think about you
But rather over what God knows about you.
Tom
What is a ripple without its rhythm,
or the whisper of a song, without a melody?
What of...silent thought without expression
~ do they still travel through time and space,
to lap a shore, to echo somewhere,
and draw a tear?
Or....the light that travels millions of years,
until we see what is ~ no longer there...
Does anything ever die and end in
our eyes only, or
is it reflected back...and return
to...nothing?
Except a wilderness of want,
where only faith resides...
Light travels through a vacuum,
and sound does not, and why
it is the most precious gift to share...