Told Poems - Poems about Told

Johari window; no one can see through this pane, where I make my decisions. my thoughts ala carte, and not all desirable, sussed out in my universe; perplexing to me. sift through so many pages - childhood habits and missteps. when faith came my way, how divine the candlelight, the Spirit lighting my path. electrifying, sword of positivity discerning my every word. don’t always listen to the reproof; button up. shame’s...

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A plethora of complex verbiage clogs and clutters solemn university tombs, gem encrusted sequestered vaults impervious at least almost, when immediate accessibility enjoins the ultimate in verifiable clarification on matters, that ally one disregards at a perilous cost not just in economic terms either, As I can amply testify in copious quantities of valid instances how...

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After a hazardous trip from a far- off district, With drooping spirits and waning energy, I alighted at the station to catch the night train, My heart besieged by memories of a home, left behind. Like a drop in the ocean, I quickly merged with the buzzing crowd. In the blinking light of platform lamps, I saw a huge crowd- the young...

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There was a D.J. at a club where I would go some weekend nights and dance till late. Not gorgeous, but an entertaining guy, he called me up and asked me on a date. It took me by surprise. I thought why not? Something inside me did not feel right though, My inner voice told me perhaps I ought to just stay...

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I made a mistake was young and stupid I had no guidance as a young adult Found myself pregnant thanks to Cupid felt strangely this woman was in a cult She invited me to bible study When I got there I felt unsure It was in a private home And everyone seemed overly invested They wanted to pray over me They locked...

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My inner voice, is a two-faced bard, That takes all credit when a win is starred. But slinks away and hides when the outcome, Doesn't match what it said, what's to become. Can I read its doubt in the quiver of its sage? Or in the mumbled, jumble of its feeble grab to engage? It can be so assertive when it...

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At the end of the meal we shared, my participle principles split my jeans, when you called me to split the bill! What about the banana-split you had for dessert? You split-up spilled friend? Or the soggy split pea soup you asked me to boldly forgo, for the aperitif? The tiff began and ended with the present and past-principles of split personalities,...

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Written: June 08, 2025, contest Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon. Quote "Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder." By RUMI ****************** As the soft fingers of dawn spread light, And dusk fades, in...

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S-hould H-ave I-nstructed E-very L-ife's L-esson A-nd M-essage, A-s Y-ou T-aught E-ach O-rder F-rom I-mmortal L-ord O-penly ©bfa051025 Monocrostic (Birthday of Shiellamay Teofilo)...

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A tale is told of a cruel man who once cast a stone at a righteous dervish’s head. The poor man, too meek to strike back, picked up the stone and kept it close?—? waiting. Time passed. The king, angered by that cruel man’s misdeeds, cast him into a bottomless, dark pit. The dervish came to the edge, aimed?—? and hurled the same stone down...

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My father leave me since child, I was about seven years old, Nothing I remember which he told, Than mother ice cream to sold. My father have not yet died, But he has kept me aside, Phoning him a lot I have tried, My calls ended without being applied. Sometimes I fill myself bad, Like I am not his blood, How he has keep himself...

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Truth be told: I am just too old For all of this Betrayal. Because you have left me Countless times While being right there. I needed a man who wasn’t afraid of me, a man who would fight for me, a man who could hold the complicated blocks of my soul for a moment and help me arrange them...

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Live every day as if it were your last, they told me, words carrying shadows and chills, a thought like a storm gathering on a clear sky, a pressure that presses to immobility, a swan song that moves the soul in circles of unease, where time intertwines with fear, but within me, like an echo of another life,...

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They with masks and scalpels rewatch the seconds I was given without consent. My breath hitches as warnings stillborn in my throat. At this moment, I am but a body opened for overdue answers no one asked for. A poet’s gift lies in the voice of Truth. No— A poet's gift is to lie, constantly, in lavender-gray syllables threaded through with near-Truth— The...

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The ceiling blinked first—it told me I was looking up too much, time laughed in a corner, counting backwards just to mock me, my shadow packed its bags and left a sticky note: "You're thinking too hard. I need air." The fan above spun secrets, whispering in Morse code, I'm not sure if it cursed me or told me the...

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