Unbeknownst Poems - Poems about Unbeknownst

I feel my heart Shattered beneath my skin My arms aching, calling out for you... Who..? Here I lie, shattered crying out for sweet release Or sweet embrace... A guide or a lover whomever matches the pace... Of the raging fire in my heart That burns for no one Yet burns just the same Not caring to spare my soft soul from it's pain. Soft like...

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Making it known in the twilight zone, an unknown, error-prone player reached a milestone using follicle stimulating hormone to produce a phytohormone clone of Alicia Silvestone honed from a fully grown breastbone and stray histones. Above the wind blown ozone- a moss-grown millstone the well known capstone of a milestone not foreknown. Better known was...

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i watch this kid write a simple poem today just two days ago he was in a coma of a mysterious sort here he is now laughing like nothing ever happened his little heart is on green light now concern has a wire hanger in the closet i watch this little kid fly a kite on a windy, but moderately...

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Sitting alone in silence, at midnight hour I write thoughts in the bright of a candles glow Unbeknownst what the future holds, I cower Cringing, shrinking like the flame that's burning low Is there reason to this madness, sadness...our Oh lord, Please tell me, for why? I need to know Has Satan gifted us this covid...

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I was looking for meaning in my life the looking became the meaning in my voyage I came upon little things of interest these little things became the meaning along the way I appreciate little things along the way move on and I keep on looking the looking becomes the meaning...

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Unbeknownst To Me Unbeknownst to me He thought that reality Was not meant to be....

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I float above it all my eyes closed my heart wide open fingers crossed breathing slow. Calmly I try not to get immersed in you. your aura surrounds me just like purfume and it's far too personal for me at least. I'd give anything for this urge to cease. It's calling to me and even the bees can sense your honey they flock...

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O what forgotten providence, to which my soul falls victim on and off and on again, indecision marking each page with dog eared brutality. Know not, want not, we could never truly return a moment as inconsequential as that which marks. . . Providential Dreams whose ends are more mutably cataclysmic than their begins. Can only be born of indecisive wonderlust, Impendent scenes...

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