Its Vastlessness Symphonic...
Wavelengths Defining Colors
Unwitnessed; Yet Understood
Yet... It's A Singularity Still
Where It Expells What It Will,
What It Can... And Renamed
And Renamed Again...
Ageless, But You Knew That...
With A Switch: A Singularity.
-Gray Squirrel
07-15-2026
Faith writes in Invisible Ink—
Upon the Quiet Air—
No Scholar sees the Syllables—
Yet all the World is There—
It does not Clamor at the Gate—
Nor trumpet its Decree—
But like a Bird within the Soul—
Insists—Eternity—
It threads the Dark with Tender Light—
No Lantern could Bestow—
And where the Reason falters most—
Its Gentle Certainties—grow—
No Proof adorns its fragile Hand—
No Measure marks its Height—
Yet Mountains bow—unwitnessed—
To its Unspoken Might—
It is the Poem never penned—
Yet read by all who Grieve—
A Verse the Broken understand—
Before they can Believe—
And though the Page be Torn by Time—
And Ink be washed Away—
Faith keeps the final Couplet safe—
For an Undying Day—
However, the world seems hell-bent! Problematic and questioning.
No one here is the true solution you are looking for. Not even the extraordinary quotes. Quotes are just facts which are sometimes applicable.
People are unworthy of trust, and
animals are unaware of humans.
Still, you are figuring out—sitting in one random room or just lazily lying down—crying over small or big aspects of life.
The time you think a bit in detail, you see light, you urge for darkness. Or vice versa.
The heaven you are searching for is the questioning about the living in hell. There and here. Nothing is yours. Not your life before birth, after death, or in between. Neither your good deeds nor your sins.
Anger is you; calmness is you. You are fear and courage. God in you and Devil in you.
Good in you and Evil in you.
I hate you, but my love is you.
If it hurts this way,
know—I never wished it so.
Yet they bury me in blame,
while my soul lies in cinders,
scattered and silent.
They say I never tried,
but the witnesses scream
from the hollows of my eyes,
from tears
no one dared to witness.
I wonder—
where was my fault etched?
If no sin was mine,
why does suffering cling
like a shadow that devours the light?
If nature remembers,
let karma carve them as it carved me.
But here I remain—
drenched in endless rain,
a ghost wandering my own grief,
waiting for a rainbow
that may never rise
I knocked on the door of limbo,
where the breathless rest,
neither damned nor divine,
but I was not even shadow enough
to be let in.
They saw my name
unwritten,
unwitnessed
and turned me away like a sin
never spoken aloud.
So I walked the earth
as half a ghost,
haunting the body
I was born into.
Devotion Poem. MY PLEAS
(For Jim) ***
I’ll call out for you
All the enchanted,
The splendors
all usually
unwitnessed by
the average day’s
Noticed sights and
The sweeter songs
blue butterflies
hear, and which
sound unto
Composers’ ears days
before they’re
written.
I’ll plead colors of joy
encircle you like a
Future-come more
Than this present
noon…
A future drawing of itself
Reborn, with you
A Phoenix rising
On the dawn of peace.
This is a poem that has no end…
and as I wait, will please find none.
————————————————-
(c) sally young Eslinger 10/7/21
Unbroken unridden
Unseen unforbidden
Unbridled running free
Unwitnessed through the trees >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Unknown but unto thee
Unequaled in romance
Unambiguous lance
Pleiades U Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Merryman
Syllable counter PS 7x6
01/05/2021
Alarm bells are ringing,
a familiarity forgotten.
A code I can not remember,
my brain corrupt with data.
Evolutions unwitnessed by me,
I was never invited into broken heart,
this fading away.
Your scent, recognised by my memory,
like a photograph fading in reverse.
I am in the darkroom, undeveloped,
I won't see who I'll become.
I am on display, out of sight,
my stealth is my stillness.
No one expects me here,
obligatory blindness.
Oh how I would scream,
eternities passed and you are here.
beyond all my hopes,
an impossible dream.
My heart will stop,
my thoughts will cease,
but for now,
you
are here.
Time has created writers of century
Praised aloud for writings honorary
Prized globally with invaluable glory
Turning lines to deep thinking story
Magic of dots lead revolution purely
Unleashing world’s important history
Coining perfect pieces called literary
Lines curving to meaning revolutionary
Endowment to write thoughts freely
Though some being looked at angrily
Still the words shining more brightly
Eternal gift of Locke, Voltaire, Rousseau …
Pen is a mightier weapon said truly
Those who deny know not its beauty
Played ne with unequalled lines simply
Unwitnessed so far the unveiled mystery
Languages varied , spoken distinctly
Yet idée exchanged among commonly
Lines need a glance of heart’s purely
Then ideas turn to innovation surely
O Line! Has a start, ends with finally
Nevertheless continues even blankly
So many meanings in dictionary
Form conversations even nonverbally
Parts, Play, prose or poetry
Adds life to non breathing – silently
Writers gifted to use its versatility
Line turned a treasure noted timely
Four letter carries connotation widely
Unseen still there …simply…plainly…explicitly
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.