Undid Poems | Examples

In Stars Above

Written June 17, 2025.
Title: “In Stars Above.”
Contest: This or That, Vol 34.
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh.


They say stars are dead things,
light still traveling from a time
before love undid me.

I stare at them anyway.
As if answers live in burning ghosts.

He touched me like I was holy—
then left like I was haunted.
I called it devotion.
But it was ruin dressed in warmth.

Some nights I still flinch
at kindness,
as if it’s a lie waiting
to grow teeth.

I don’t write his name anymore,
but it echoes in the quiet.
Like the sound of glass
after it’s broken.

Pain taught me
that love isn’t always gentle.
That silence,
too, can scream.

So I name the stars after wounds
I no longer bleed from.
Not healed—
just tired of aching.

And if you ever find me
watching the sky too long,
know this:

I’m not waiting for him.
Just learning
how to live
without gravity.

The Bruise Was Worth It

I kissed the fall.
Ran barefoot through glass and silence.
Told him I loved him—
even when it undid me.
It was raw.
It was ruin.
But it stayed,
like a scar
worth naming


Ramblings of a babbling brook

This brook in the woods I pass in the winter
It babbles and blisters and wanders and splinters
In all sorts of directions grinding and winding
Turns back in connection then to itself binding
Like limbs of a squid with their purpose undid
A playground of kids with rules they've rid
Not rigid or timid, free flows with no limit
Nothing to follow, full of depth's wildest grit
A space not to wallow, fills up all its hollow
Ill will and doubt with my pride it can swallow
Like veins it runs through with no skin to confine
This brook in the woods of a place that's all mine

Premium Member Situation For a Guardian Angel

He neither tumbled, wheel over wheel,
nor slammed into the window or door.
Seemingly, an angel, placed the child,
gently, very gently on the landing floor,
to the relief of his caretaker, who’d been
as careful as she could possibly be.
Like a storm, the rush came suddenly…
Kids, indeed, are that quick!
She, the caretaker, undid the gate
while keeping an eye on her charges.
With one mistake, it could have been curtains,
it could have been a late and sorrowful hour,
but for God’s guardian entrusted with his saints.

5/27/2023

The Brotherhood of Man

The brotherhood of man 

 When he came into the hall, his brother came down
the stairs, he had forgotten to buy milk
Outside, guns blasted his brother fragmented to 
a hail of noise and blood on splattered asphalt.
The soldiers, in a killing mood, shot into the hall 
he ran up to the third-floor flat where his sons sat
told them to flee to the roof of opposite buildings
They refused and had slingshots to defend themselves
he didn’t try to persuade the boys, undid a window
and jumped on the next roof as bullets of ill will
hissed past like angry wasps on an August afternoon.
The building he escaped to had once been a clinic
for those who hated their faces and wanted a change
This war had descended into brutal self-delusion  
where the news shouted slogans of hatred, beating   
People to mass hysteria, blindly killing anyone that
resembled the foe, not seeing the enemy was them
committing fratricide.
When the blood lust of ammo suppliers was sated 
a nervous calm until a flash of light lit up the sky
there was no one left to tell why the war had started.


Premium Member Dance, For Helen

You, beautiful one,
Aware of mind's inner space,
But travelling, thrilling to movement.
Tiny jokes and masked meanings
The place you played.
You undid models 
Like a child making games, 
The barrier behind unvisited.
Hold up your arms 
And dance!
Death's not erased the past and
Is not the end of music.

This Is a Funeral

This is a funeral
Why don't you accept
This is a funeral
And this is the death

The candles are burning
The red curtains drawn 
The oak casket glittering
Like a pistil of dawn 

Nobody knew you
So why's there a wake?
Your work-life undid you
All rigid and fake 

Here's how it pares down:
A brief eulogy
A shovel of gravel
And it's all done by three

Then your friends will forget you
By the light of a screen 
Full of afternoon football
And unkillable dreams

Grotesque

I no longer need to understand the deception of atoms.
the spiral deconstruction that built the error
of the hot afternoons, sore backs
of monthly purchases and a family.
I already know what happens in this corner of the universe,
because I quit my job at the lighthouse
and undid the path of artificial light.
memory sofa.
a scarecrow driving away thoughts.
like flies that disturb the day
flying over the rotten table set.
do you see in the window the field with the crushed daisies?
see the sun's round, indifferent face?
and the indecent smile of time
licking the calendar weeks,
you see?

Rediscovering and Reinventing Life

I untied the straps of my mysteries,
I undid the braids of my misfortunes,
I started playing my forgotten song...
I tied and knotted the bag of sorrows,
I revived the memories of the adventures,
I found the keys to my portals,
I ignited my holy lights...
i burned in a strong fire
my anxieties,
I gathered my faces from the mirrors,
I stripped myself of all worst omens,
and ran to live a novel life!

Premium Member Unfound

Under the old oak tree
Undying memories
Until tornado winds
Undid that tree, your grave
Unveiled huge toppled stump
Uplifted her through air
Unfound- Felisha Cat.


April 30, 2021

Contest: Pleiades U
Sponsor: Kim Merryman


True Story~ May 2018
(only a piece of her gravestone, was found)

Footle Hell

Footle  .. It's Hell

To rhyme  .. Sublime

Covid  .. Undid

Our Dreams  .. And schemes.


          SO

Keep well  .. It's Hell.

Premium Member Smoking Gun

Who ruined my confidence,
Who trampled my young dreams,
Who turned the signpost around,
Who undid all my schemes?

Who was responsible,
Who held the smoking gun,
My parents, my teachers, my friends,
Could I afford to trust anyone?

Who deterred me from trying,
Who played on my self-doubt,
Who kept me on the outside,
Who locked my brave heart out?

I looked all around me ... 
Accused everyone,
But no one would admit to holding ...
The smoking gun!

Who helped make me a loner,
Who turned well-wishers away,
Who spawned paranoia,
Who kept loved ones at bay?

I glanced in the mirror,
When a glance wasn’t planned,
To see with disbelieving eyes, 
The smoking gun ... in my hand!

The Princess and the Pauper

The Princess and the Pauper
by Michael R. Burch

for Norman Kraeft in memory of his beloved wife June Kysilko Kraeft

Here was a woman bright, intent on life,
who did not flinch from Death, but caught his eye
and drew him, powerless, into her spell
of wanting her himself, so much the lie
that she was meant for him—obscene illusion!—
made him seem a monarch throned like God on high,
when he was less than nothing; when to die
meant many stultifying, pained embraces.

She shed her gown, undid the tangled laces
that tied her to the earth: then she was his.
Now all her erstwhile beauty he defaces
and yet she grows in hallowed loveliness—
her ghost beyond perfection—for to die
was to ascend. Now he begs, penniless.

Premium Member If I Weren'T Afraid

If I weren't afraid,
        full of apprehension and fear;
      and I did not always feel so betrayed,
        while trying to make fear disappear.
  Oh, I am undaunted in my search for calm and cool,
  and not the nerd girl and outcast I was in school;
    and I can even act a fool,
               remove my masquerade.

               Yes, I can make you laugh,
        not by jokes but by the things I say;
      just ask the nursing home patients and staff,
        I often entered a room doing ballet.
  No, not by jokes but by the pain I often undid,
  by the compassion that I never keep hid;
    by courage I muster amid,
               even when I am afraid.

______________________________
September 14, 2019


Poetry/Rhyme/If I Weren't Afraid
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1180-969-02
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Girl 4 Dot 0

nowadays, walking sidewalks is so yesterday
since I was asked “where is your Ninjas?
they are now updating status and you are just
typing some comments?”
oh, dear. I am thinking about real Moving Sidewalks
I saw the two of them in an airport
and of course, I undid leaving comments
forget it
Exit Sub

while Bruce is rebuilding Wayne Manor, brick for brick
my Rachel seemed getting an additional intelligence
after being Ex My  over her stupid theory
“the mask should be worn over my ass”
“I really needed warmth since you spent too many minutes
for just saying OK over my invitation”, she said

so I just say (repeatedly)
For Each YOU in this ing era
If you want everything automated Then
you should be grayed-out Black Widow first
End If
Next YOU
End Sub

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