Long Wordlessly Poems
Long Wordlessly Poems. Below are the most popular long Wordlessly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wordlessly poems by poem length and keyword.
Nay, despite failing to make the grade,
this bluesy well red, duff mute
average white band hit,
hard knock school alumnus
jack of all trades master of none bumped along
pot hole cratered steep pitch
while riding the bus
bullies skewered kosher me all, cannibalized
carte blanche timid ego
brandishing exacto knife
threatening jugular, cuss
sing maniacally pulling out all stops
going headstrong for this doofuss
Embracing premonition making me mincemeat
vis a vis via, Atilla the Hun plus
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
after diet of worms
as hors d'oeuvre hug guess
if given a choice, would prefer Loch Ness
monster, or the whale that swallowed Jonah,
either t'would be a quite im press
heave feted feat, versus being poached,
roasted, skewered burnt alive
perhaps sautéed to feed additionally,
the Gothic (Jacks sin) five
the latter adorned with
Bandolier prototype, whence they would jive
to Vandals mess sigh ya,
these last yet another contra band
to play on command, or risk not being
he gee beegee bing a live
all thee above iterated blather spluttered
as punishment against revive
ving human sacrifice by pence hoove lee donning
a new jersey wordlessly trumpeting, and strive
ving assiduously as a one man lobbyist,
and aye willingly negotiate
to take more'n one wive
even though that would be big o' me decor,
thus a last minute reprieve given
without axing por favor
and black keys handed over
to Holy Roman Empire in hoar
rubble ruins (over the Weeknd), thus brutish nasty,
and short tempered surprisingly
(boot not prematurely) ejaculating bon jour
foo fighters actually (grand
aery an nah - did a three sixty)
feting me guest of hun or,
boosting self esteem, the first time
since being a kid in a candy store
which poetic digression
did make quite a dee tour,
and bringing detente amidst marauding
village people hoop reef furred war.
pardons for the beggar
he knows not what he trades
witness to the rapture
a feather for a spade
preaching him a savior
what alms that would've made
words to sate the hunger
though wordlessly he prayed
threnodies for martyrs
indifferently played
lulling into stupor
those starving to be saved
beneath the skyscrapers
within walls mired and grayed
they all roam encumbered
and silently they pray
ripping through the integuments
of a convivial heaven
sleeping in discontentment
stay cast-away; forgotten
penance for the pauper
watching the cavalcade
of endless wanderers
all dressed in the decay
through torn streets and corners
the grime will never fade
listen to the laughter
the asphalt takes its prey
lumbering across the pavement
the ragged delirious children
wallowing in detriment
stay cast-away; forgotten
still groping for all those long disclosed promises
still hoping for halos when their god could care less
are they conversing with angels
while carrying their own shovels
and quietly knowing too well
when and where to bury themselves
pardons for the beggar
he knows not what he pays
placed his doubt on barter
for faith without a face
he wouldn't consider
to even make a raise
when a dream is offered
it's never there to stay
No problem there is in my life
if there separated loneliness comes,
if there mourning comes as severe numb
But I let not the death come as intruder
No difficulties in the reticent life
if I lose everything wordlessly,
if I lose the soul heart unfairly
But I care the lost love always as hidden star
O yes
No shocking pathetic life there is
if the darkness kills my beloved moonlit
if the black clouds cover my cherished sunlight
Yes
Hope, I live with hope
Sun is eternal
the delightful fair dawn must come
the sun must rise to shine our day
Moon is eternal
the romantic moony night must come,
the moon must enlighten out dark heart
14.06.2020 Chattogram
Wordlessly I rise to answer a long-ago call.
I admire the rainbow but I say nothing at all.
But I notice.
The exhausted frown that she tried to hide.
All the painful truths that she openly denies.
I notice.
The songs that she plays on the radio and sings to on a summer day.
The laughter of the people around us while we dance and play.
I notice.
The wind blowing through her hair while she stares into the night sky.
The sound of the river rapids close to her feet while she enjoys a pie.
I notice.
Whenever their lilting voice falters; whenever they dare to speak aloud.
Their courage on the stage where they dared to sing in front of a crowd.
I notice.
The friends who tell him they care for him but don't actually show it.
The family that comforts and consoles him in those required moments.
I notice.
The cobblestones along the streets, light posts, trees and gardens.
All the chirping birds and fluttering butterflies near the closest fens.
I notice.
It doesn't matter if I am actually here
nor there -- even if it feels like I'm everywhere.
I will always notice.
In the depths of the night, when the stars dim their light and dreams unfurl their wings,
I venture to the hidden realms of the soul, where nostalgia weaves its web,
Like a melancholic treasure gathered through the ages, in the cities of the faithless,
In the ghettos of silence, in the sunsets of the steppes, in the dreams of those who yearned for you,
Jerusalem, by the waters of Babylon, where longing becomes song and memory, a tale.
What else have you been, Israel, but that desire to save, like a beacon in the fog of time,
Preserving your magical and ancient book, your ceremonies as sacred incantations,
Your solitude with God, like a cathedral of silence amidst the world's tumult.
But no, the oldest of nations is reborn evermore as a youthful tremor,
You did not tempt people with the gardens of Eden or the glimmer of the vanity of gold,
But with tireless labor on a besieged land, like a dream taking shape at dawn.
Wordlessly, Israel whispered to them:
Forget who you are and who you have been, like a leaf carried by the wind of change,
Forget the person you were in those lands that gave you their mornings and evenings,
Lands that are now only echoes in memory, where you need not look back longingly.
You will forget your father's language and learn the tongue of Paradise, like a music of beginnings.
On this river of thoughts, I let myself be carried,
Feeling how each word becomes a falling star in the night of eternity,
Building a new realm where memories are but delicate shadows,
And the present, a field of hopes blooming under the light of a new dawn,
The future, an unknown language awaiting discovery in the silence of a prayer,
Here, at the edge of time, we reinvent ourselves with each step,
And learn the art of living without looking back,
For in forgetting, rebirth is born, and in rebirth, eternity.
My father is a Halibut
we lived on a small island in the stream
a ferry boat took us into town
on one such a day on our way to Houston
my father wordlessly jumped overboard
the ferry shipper stopped the boat
and looked, but there was no sign of him
I had the heavy task to break this news
to my mother, who walked into the kitchen
to compose herself
The noise from the kitchen sounded like
repressed laughter of relief.
Since my father was officially missing
she was still married to him, but she found
work on the mainland as a waitress
Five years later, two fishermen caught
an enormous halibut that looked human
aghast, they threw the fish overboard
The story appeared in an angler's mag
to my mother, she was not surprised
she said, your father was addicted to sex
I still try to work out what she meant
Suddenly He returned...
A lone traveller on a journey
tripping with her memory
Breezes of unsceduled joy
He blew beneath her skin
Reaching deep witihin
breathing warmth, affectionately.
He poured honey from the moon
and filled her dusk with light
Oh how He made lost shadows shine
He made rays filter through
soft as a candle light.
Oh how it lit her vacant room
and kindled in her night.
Suddenly He returned...
A lone traveller on a jourmey
tripping with her memory
Like a young first love
they danced so fervently
Like a young lost love
they parted unexpectedly
Their paths were not to meet again
beyond borders in between.
They've let their spuming stars
fade deep into the sea.
It could never be,just never be
Forbidden wants were pushed away
and so each possibility.
Yet long lived thoughts, all wordlessly
as guarded dreams roamed silently.
Suddenlly He returned .,..
A lone traveller on a journey
tripping with her memory
keeps tripping with her memory
Always in her memory....
In the depth of the shadow that stretches when words are made sense of and then cast aside,
Silence dresses over our dreams, ethereal strands subtly strung and pierced through,
Desire boils and yearns to be noticed, forgetting through its inferno, the purity of thought,
On the throne of self-abandonment, philosophy is sidelined, silently, clandestinely sold.
Love, we demand it as though a royal due, with an often blind and reckless zeal,
At times, we pierce hearts that shared with us undoubted affection,
On humanity's altar, their blood is wastefully spilled, ritually, without intoxication.
Romanticism, we wish for it as a companion to an unbounded love,
Even when aware that vipers peddle deceptive elixirs, glittery and deviant,
Run from the whisper that seems too sweet to be true,
When words sneak in clad in golden garments, yet prove to be hollow.
Thirsty for the pure essence, not the empty sweetness,
Reveal love in bodies that plant deeds, not ephemeral rhymes,
In places that respond not with passwords, but with fearless truth.
Find success in hearts that weave good unmoved,
Not in deceitful whispers, but in hands that tirelessly sow respect and beloved.
So, wander in chasms where words bring about no dress,
In dimensions where feelings are woven into bodies, in gazes that know to speak wordlessly,
Not in rose petals that detach at the slightest gust,
But in souls that show love not in words but in desires that blaze at dawn.
The poet does not love you for your changing beauty, a leaf that shivers in the wind,
But for how the sun plays on the curve of your cheek, a subtle mirror of light and earth.
For those hidden creases in your smile, deserted paths where footsteps wander,
For the secret hues carried on the tips of your fingers, where colors come to rest.
He will fall under the spell of the exact shape of your lips uttering his name in an echo,
For the rich colors in your eyes, for how the light in them reflects and becomes a river,
How shadows embrace your body, crafting in contours, a temple of mystery.
For the poet will find you in the crevices of silence, where your word does not take flight,
He will take your heart and stain it with the rhythms you carry in your chest, wordlessly, without longing.
He will uncover your hidden beauties, a hundred small miracles that defy death,
And he will immortalize you among verses, will make your name undying on the dawn's emerging lip.
He will not be the one to break your heart, for no poet is without scar, without bitterness,
He did not come to twist words into crowns of gold without having borne a heavy burden himself.
He will love you beyond every nothingness, for he knows all too well how to treasure each ephemeral flicker,
In his poetry you are eternal, and even if the world forgets, the poet always remembers to love you.
Illahee. Awenasa, Mahkah.
The lesson Momma taught me
(which momma never taught me)
was -
No, is.
To not be angry.
To endure your pain.
To let be as things be.
To not multiply your pain
by fletching and loosing blame.
Bend the bow into a bow,
offer connection.
Seeing.
Welcoming.
The lesson Momma taught me
(which momma never taught me)
was -
Notice.
Endure the theft of self by other.
Endure ignorant and ignoring.
Endure the losings of the way.
Support it all.
Support it all.
Offer flowers where you can.
Feed the trees.
Carry the herd.
Invite the flock.
Wait with the stones.
One day one will listen.
One day one will see.
Will that one be one being?
One culture?
One day?
One may one day One.
Endure.
Support.
Offer, Feed, Carry, Invite...
Wait.
The lesson Momma taught me.
Wordlessly.
Unceasingly.
Inerrantly.
(Which Momma never taught me, ‘cuz Momma doesn’t do.)
Know this.
To earn, to see, to receive these the lessons.
Is on us.
Our active offering to the Great Receptive.
Listen. Love. Learn.
One may one day One.
One day no one will have won.
One may one day One.
Listen. Love. Learn.