Long Words fail Poems
Long Words fail Poems. Below are the most popular long Words fail by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Words fail poems by poem length and keyword.
My eyes recognise who you are, they see the familiarity of past lives
When the recognition was virginal
The book of the first, the begining, and the start
As my words fail in awe of your presence
Nameste, I bow to you
Do not take my hand, for I am unworthy
I broke the ties that bound our souls
Infidelity the scissors which cut the thread
You seek now the purity I stained
All I offer, all I can do
Nameste, I bow to you
Such is this life
The breakage of the delicate sanctity of destiny
The essence escaping the vessel
Shattered, on broken glass I walk
And as blood seeps from my wounds
Nameste, I bow to you.
Mistaken, the identity of my soul mate
Ruined, the betrayal of a decieved heart
He spoke in your voice, his touch felt like thine own
Fallen, unto the spell of falsehood
And as you now appear, truth appears
In my disgrace
Nameste, I bow to you.
As your face reveals your disappointment
Those eyes reveal hope
You ask that I stand and face you now
You offer your hand once more
Eternally my remorse shall shame me
As you speak, and you say the words
Nameste, nameste, I bow to you
Wrap yourself around me.
Hold me tight.
Whisper sweet nothings.
All through the night.
Tell me you love only me.
Hold my hand for all to see.
Let romance be in the air.
Kiss me softly....just there.
Listen to what I have to say.
Let me brighten up your day.
Dry my tears when my guard is down.
I'll be your clown, you be mine.
Here's my heart, please take it
I need your love if I'm gonna make it.
I have enough of being on my own.
Together we could be so strong.
That's my wish for the New Year.
I've sent it out for you to hear.
Words fail me to express my desire.
Come my love, set me on fire.
In the shadows of a fractured consciousness, where words fall like shattered glass,
The man, unable to articulate, to express with clarity, retreats into action.
His thoughts, like wild horses, gallop through the vast and tumultuous plains of his mind,
Yet his tongue, bound by the chains of a limited lexicon, stumbles, falters, and falls into silence.
In the theater of existence, where every gesture becomes a desperate cry,
The vocabulary of action is tethered to the body,
Each movement a scream, each breath a prayer,
Yet the silence of true understanding hovers, vast and unmoving.
When words fail to bridge the chasms of human connection,
Violence erupts like a wild, primal, and relentless storm,
A language of fists and fury, born of frustration,
The man's body becomes his voice, his weapon is his extended lexicon.
In the bleak landscape of limited expression,
Weapons become the dictionaries of the inarticulate,
Cold metal and sharp edges writing sentences of blood and pain,
For in the heat of conflict, the unspoken finds its violent release.
Men tread shadowy paths, their souls burdened by the weight of miscommunication,
The frustration of unspoken words etching scars upon the fabric of their beings,
Seeking solace in the harsh clarity of confrontation,
An incomprehensible lexicon that speaks in echoes of fear and aggression.
In the swirling depths of consciousness, the storm's fury continues,
A symphony of silent screams and unspoken desires,
Bound by the fragile chains of an inadequate vocabulary,
Eyes that ask what can't be answered, hands that seek what can't be grasped.
Yet in this maelstrom of silent agony, a glimmer of understanding remains,
A hope that beyond violence, beyond primal cries,
There lies a place where words can heal, where silence gives way to connection,
Where the fragmented pieces of the soul can unite in the harmonious dance of true expression.
For in the heart of the storm, in the eye of the silent tempest,
Lies the possibility of finding one's voice, of breaking the chains,
Transforming weapons back into words,
Reclaiming the language of humanity, the melody of understanding,
In the perfect blend of hearts, where silence no longer reigns.
What do the eyes say?
What can the eyes say?
Why do we speak through our eyes?
Eyes speak
When words fail,
When fear holds the tongue,
Eyes speak,
When you don't know how to say.
Eyes are powerful,
Projecting anger, fear, dismay, hatred.
Projecting happiness, peace, relief, love.
So, what do eyes say, what can they say?
They say all the things we wish we could,
All the things we wish we would.
They speak of past joys, hopes, dreams.
They speak of past hurts, pains, disasters.
They speak of future plans, dreams, and wonders yet to be seen.
But while they speak, they also listen,
They listen for the sadness of others, the longing,
The hidden desires of another's soul.
Some are better at speaking
Some better than others at listening
Some hide things,
Like one speaks, at the same time they listen.
The language passes through one persons soul
Out of their eyes, going into the searching eyes of another.
The words pass into another's soul and tug at their heart.
So what do the eyes say?
The eyes say nothing
And the eyes say
Everything.
The worst I had ever felt was now when I had to experience my fresh wounds become re-born from the bleeding, I am enduring
I tried to apply direct pressure with a clean cloth and mimic happiness to stop this bleeding I opened wide
The worst pain is going through my own thoughts and failing to escape the cage of guilt and sorrows
My own blood soaks through the scars
My body shuts down
My body wants to escape
My body is telling me to be numb and not feel any emotion
I am bleeding!
I am bleeding without knowing which part of my body bleeds more than the other
I kneel down on my knees and try to say a small prayer but even then, words fail me
“So, help me God” is uttered as I re-birth my wounds and re-open them again
“Do not remove it”
“Do not remove the cloth, instead put more of those and let's see how the bleeding can stop.”
My heart tries to be above the pain
My heart tries to be above the constant hurt as I try to dress it and seek medical attention to attend to my broken heart
The worst feeling I had was today and now
The worst feeling was at this very moment
Poet
Masego Nkuna
Aqueous darkness
Rainy windowpane;
Warm shelter
~~~~~~~~~
Journey joys
Sublime moments;
Ages ago
~~~~~~~~~
Words unfurl
Paradoxical lot;
Decipher feeling
~~~~~~~~~
Haughty culture
Arrogance limps;
Self-indulgent
~~~~~~~~~
Old man
Blank stares hint;
Lonely devotion
~~~~~~~~~
Watering hole
Crowded after hours;
Funny monkeys
~~~~~~~~~
Kitchen fuss echoes
Meal time crackle;
Feisty commotion
~~~~~~~~~
Bedroom window
Darkness outside;
Lonely feeling
~~~~~~~~~
November moments
Monsoon arrives;
Punctual wetness
~~~~~~~~~
Day slips away
Sudden dark swift;
Deserted walkways
~~~~~~~~~
Eerie lamp-post
Old halogen glow;
Ghostly coldness
~~~~~~~~~
Words fail
Music fiesta;
Jazzy sensorial
~~~~~~~~~
Old black car
On the verge;
Arrival and departure
~~~~~~~~~
Spinal back stabs
Nerve injury hammers;
Excruciating hurts
~~~~~~~~~
Sorry picture
Robot-man slithers;
Painful cough punctures
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
23 November 2016
Singapore
By this chapel
A new light dawns;
A grand marvel
Of early morn.
A saintly glow
Falls into place;
A mellow show
Upon your face.
Here as I pray,
I come to know:
A lovely ray
Of hope that shows.
A nimbus now
Shines an aura;
Light can endow
New aurora.
I sit with heart,
Mind feels stillness;
Grace now imparts
Joy in calmness.
A certain feel
Sits by my side;
I feel a thrill
That now abides.
Words fail to come
As mind feels blur;
An inner psalm
Floods a new spur.
A while with Thee,
My Lord I pray;
Joy sets me free
As nimbus strays.
Here I sense light
Beyond mere thought;
Love feels most right
When sight is naught.
A touch divine
Has come to me;
Zeal feels most kind
As joy sets free.
And as I leave
For worldly gaze;
Be Thou my gift
In earthly craze.
Leon Enriquez
04 January 2015
Singapore
Surprise flings impromptu
In seeming solid too:
Fatigue can hurl a play
That heals the cosmic stay;
Today I met a man
Who shared a curious plan;
A wanderer most strange
With a fabulous range;
A stranger here perchance
To cast a foreign glance;
Sanguine and yet fancy
His demeanour easy;
Twinkling eyes spoke flavours
Beyond what words favour;
A simple smile made bright
The zesty cheer put right;
Plain few spoken words sought
To make meaning of naught;
Such cryptic telling poise
Wrought mystery by choice;
I'm sure he had a pitch
Where curious questions itch;
Not much was said or heard
Yet a sense beyond words;
I feel a certain surge
Of ideas that emerged;
Now here I sit to think
Of many things to link;
The day has ended here
And he to other spheres;
A mystic moment dwells
Upon enchanted spell;
A casual surprise forms
A preview to a storm;
How strange this melody
Where words fail harmony.
No logic can explain
The range of sad refrain;
Too soon the lonely night
Where dreams unfurl sure flight;
I pester now the tale,
No words can make the sale!
I wonder on this dream
That seems to fact odd scheme.
Leon Enriquez
11 Nov 2014
Singapore
The world begins here,
at this worn wooden table,
its edges softened by years of hands
that set, cleared, and held.
Morning sunlight spills across plates,
coffee steam curling like old stories
we tell each other
between bites of bread and laughter.
Here, my mother folds love into dough,
my father seasons patience into stew,
grandmother hums the recipes of our past,
and unseen, ancestors linger in the scent of cumin and cardamom,
their whispers threading through the clatter of spoons.
Arguments dissolve in the hum of conversation,
joy rises with the scent of fresh coriander,
and tears, too, are gathered
between the bowls and shared silence.
This table teaches me:
life is breaking bread together,
listening when words fail,
holding space for each other,
and remembering
even in ordinary moments,
we are never alone.
The stone is cold, the pews are still,
I sit within my own mind's chill.
But through the shadows, soft and low,
I hear the font—its steady flow.
It isn’t a voice or a thundering word,
But the sweetest song I’ve ever heard.
A bubbling brook in the summer heat,
Where the thirsty and the broken meet.
Like a bird that lands on a mossy stone,
I’m no longer failure, I’m no longer alone.
He isn’t shouting from a distant throne,
He’s the healing water, making me His own.
My plans were a map I drew in the dust,
But the water washes them back into trust.
I see her future through tears in my eyes,
But He sees her spirit, a beautiful prize.
Not a group home, but a place in His hand,
More secure than the best of the lives I had planned.
When words fail and only tears remain, Spirit steps in to speak for us.
In that quiet church, let the sound of the bubbling water hold the weight of those fears for you. Jesus, I hand it over to draw a plan for her and trusting the One who created the "brook."