Short Unplayed Poems
Short Unplayed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Unplayed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Unplayed by length and keyword.
The telltale signs I'd seen
So many, many times
And yet, somehow,
I always played the game
But now the game is over
And loser that I am
The cards, they still remain
My hand unplayed
In The Fairy Tale
In There Reversed
There In Unplayed
In Player Reversed...
He IS The BEAST!!!
For Your Sake, Darling.
*Myth Reversed.*
(Psssp... For Beauty's Sake...)
-Gray Squirrel
02-25-2026
Just like this familiar song
That was never sung in tune,
Tell me, “Where do I belong?“
Scrolling this random playlist
Unplayed in my memory,
Bringing weight on my crumped chest.
As boring as this classic melody,
Everything became stodgy--
Music stopped in tragedy.
Unremitting responsibilities
Aspirations tampered by reality
Relentless quest for more
Beautiful wife, children, home
Cars, boat, vacations, clothes
All requisite trappings
Abundance of wealth and success
Colleges, tuitions, mortgages
Debt free, substantial savings
Old age, sickness, infirmity
Dusty, unplayed
Fender Stratocaster guitar
Trapped in between the lyric
and music
Wandering in a rhythm
of lost expectation
Blaming each note still unplayed
and unwritten
The echoes distend
in a moment’s undoing
Hearing a chorus
when no choir is present
Voices imagined
to sing my sequester
Wandering aimless
through scores of abandon
Harmony denied me
—nightmarish and deafening
(Dreamsleep: May, 2023)
Life & abusive substance
Power too.. 'Misuse' in abundance.
Strength to choose is inside us
The keys to use beside us
Darkness pervades,
Conspiracy is it a truth?
Are lies more feel?
Or 'good' really a factor?
Here’s to morals!
Remnants of character,
The stages of opportunity
unplayed as yet..
And leaders aspiring unto
The integrity of actors.
©Joe Maverick 9/12/2014
There are no postage stamps that send letters
back to England three centuries ago,
no postage stamps that make letters
travel back until the grave hasn't been dug yet,
and John Donne stands looking out the window,
it is just beginning to rain this April morning,
and the birds are falling into the trees
like chess pieces into an unplayed game,
and John Donne sees the postman coming up the street,
the postman walks very carefully because his cane
is made of glass.