Unforgiving Poems

Look at me now, torn and cast into the unforgiving wind of passing

Look at me now, torn and cast into the unforgiving wind of passing,
Just as a bored child abandons a broken doll,
Seeking something else to fill their heart with new laughter and colors,
Torn and cast away, I can offer nothing more, I am a vessel emptied of the essence of giving.
Perhaps, if you would let me

Unforgiving Grief

My grief is not resolved
It blocks the heart
It torments my life
The more I recognized
Not only sadness
There's also anger
Envy, lack of confidence
Emptiness and fear
Living in grief is unforgiving
Unacceptable and losing
It transform love more to hate
This is my worst case scenario.

Golden leaves, sheet music written by the unforgiving hand of time

Golden leaves, sheet music written by the unforgiving hand of time,
Fall in the slow rhythm of years that slip away like sand in an hourglass.
We are violins tuned to the melancholic tone of the eternal autumn,
Playing the ephemeral melody of life on the fragile strings of existence.
The mirror of the lake reflects the leaden sky

Unforgiving

bottles broken and empty

            just like your promises

                   emphasis on empty 

              

Beneath the dome of an unforgiving sky, a spring with a leaden heart warms up

Beneath the dome of an unforgiving sky, a spring with a leaden heart warms up,
Around it, whole worlds gather, with stiffened breaths and glassy stares,
Herds move, languidly inside a landscape torn from an apocalypse painting,
And lambs – ah, the little white lives – begin their journey to return to the earth.
There’s a hidden corner of

When Doves Cry

When doves cry, it makes my blood boil. 
I grit my teeth in rage and spit in deaths face. 
Crocodile tears from the white pigeon that flies through the ashes
of the hand who guided the blade that nearly killed me. 
I have carefully practiced mourning this death before. 
I have played this very scene in

Deeply They Linger

A life I lived has passed me by, 
My thoughts of wanting to go back in time 
I am trying to turn away and fly 
I will lose my will of losing this time.
 
My fragmented memories on recall, 
Difficult for me with an event installed 
So long ago, I thought no more of it

Our Past Is Unforgiving

Our Past Is Unforgiving
Miracle Man
4/23/2023

We squander our time
when we venture into the waste land of life
inhabited by the what-if’s, and if I’d only.

Time is not a granter of mulligans, 
so the past is unforgiving.

Mistakes or bad decisions are a part of life,
and leaves collateral damage which affects others.
Any mistakes should be viewed as teaching tools.

Oh, Death Is Unforgiving

  
"Shadows of yesteryears rise up again on All Hallows Eve, 
to roam the streets and parks, to whisper in the trees."

                                

The Unforgiving Race

The horse sped by, restlessly galloping 
The train disappeared in a blink 
The cars are obstinately racing
For a moment, I forgot to think! 
The gushing wind is loud and unforgiving 
The ground under my feet is trembling.
With an untamed and ambiguous force
Everything is filled with speed and remorse. 
I halt to hear, listen through the

Quick Question

How can you say 
every life should be saved
when you have no concern for the living, 
for the hungry and poor 
you have saved that life for 
yet find yourself so unforgiving?

~Jeannie Cronin

Whatever Lola Wants

Born on a spring cyclone from Kansas' stormy rain,
awoken now in low growl, slowly reversing.,
down a low ramp, like a movie star rehearsing,
at new shore in sunshine with an exotic name.

Just like a kid in love all over again..
learning her games in many a winding curve,
perhaps proof enough I haven't lost my nerve,
shyly look back

Unforgiving Sky

If the sky should crumble and fall,
And the fire should have dominion over my soul
In the moment of my last gasp for air
I wish to be painting the city of love in this notebook I have 
It’s like we’re colorless rose flowers,
Magnificent but still can’t attract the bees to stay long enough,
With no nectar nor

Drunk

He was a raised hand,
Striking down his past. 

Delivering sutures 
To each of the futures 
He touched.

Braying of donkeys 
Echoing in his background.

A passing cloud, 
Thundering loud 

Smatterings of thought, 
Like intermittent rain 
On corrugated tin.

Ridges of grey matter 
Rising, then falling 

To the beat 
Of felonious assault 
,
Hard, soft meeting

Life, entering death 
Arm in

Brokered Finale

In your parched desert land
As the pendulum swings
And your friends are all gone
Still you’re moving right along
Like it doesn’t mean a thing

In your parched desert land 
Thinking life’s unforgiving
Why not swallow your pride
Take an honest look inside
Join the land of the living

In  your parched desert land
Your manufactured death valley
Kind response was so important
Yet your

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