Unwritten Poems - Poems about Unwritten

unwritten page

Unwritten page
An unwritten page on a Word processor, I ought to leave it this way 
look and dream of what I could have written on the page
If I delete words I have written, the page will be blank again
No history, a crumbled-up sheet of paper for the waste basket 
For now, it is too late,

My Unwritten Fate

You deserve everything you don’t think you do
The sentence is heavy, yet the sweet truth
It shows us how little we think of  ourselves
In another’s eyes, we’re the best they can see 

The things you deserve, the things that are yours to claim
Aren’t decided by your looks, your money, or your fame
We choose a path,

The Room filled with unwritten poems

A Room Full of Unwritten Poems

A room—
Quite not real though,
Not built of woods or bricks,
Structured with the unfinished and unwritten verses,
Smeared by weathering paint,
More like an echo left without the speaker.

Swaying curtains, now getting silenced.
Door hinges rusted, creaking—
But in my mind,
It’s just similar to those small giggles and laughs
Left behind by the envied person.

Envy because

Unwritten Resilience

If you must have my head, show it to the ones I’ve led,
Leave them restless in their bed, even still our young will remain fed.
Reinforced by our past in chains once bound,
With the reins in our hands, now you will hear our sound.

You’ve erased our names, only known in lies,
A stink so foul, the ignorance

Samantha’s Unwritten Vows

The aisle stretched longer that day,
a white river with no other shore.
Her fingers crushed the lace of her gown—
Where is he?
The guests’ whispers grew teeth,
gnawing the silence between hymns.

Later, they’d say he was the villain,
the man who fled his own shadow.
No one mentioned the envelope
thick with cash in the sexton’s pocket,
or the father’s wine-stained lips
sealing

Echoes of praise rise around you, your beauty, an unwritten hymn

Echoes of praise rise around you, your beauty, an unwritten hymn,
Words and poems weave through crowded halls, but you, only you,
Hear my speaking silence, a mute symphony whispering into your soul,
Burning gazes seek you, like darkness chasing the full moon,
Yet you offer me the first ray of light, a vision, a forgotten dream returning.
Your shy

Echoes of a Love Unwritten

The clock towers loom, a haunting chime,
A wish to rewind, to conquer time.
To rewrite pages stained with pain,
To wash away the hurtful rain.

If I could grasp that fleeting hour,
Before my actions turned love sour,
I'd cradle you in my gentle embrace,
And hold you in that sacred space.

More than a whisper, more than a dream,
I'd drown you

She, the Unwritten Poem

I got attached to you so easily,
like the sky clings to the fading light,
like the ocean whispers to the shore,
drawn to you without a fight.

Attracted in ways I can’t explain,
you are the first breath of my day,
the last thought before I close my eyes,
the dream that never fades away.

I care for you more than you

Unloved But Never Unwritten

By Imran Ahmed 
When A Man Gives His Heart To A Woman Only For Fate To Intervene,
And She Finds Her Place Beside Someone Else Where He Should Have Been,,,,
Believe Me When I Say Each Night He Falls Apart In Silence,
Chased By Memories And Visions That Blur Into Quiet Violence,,,
She's No Longer His Yet Somehow She's Everywhere,
In

Unwritten

There is a poem I have yet to write,
a ghost ensnared within the ribs of silence,
a pulse in the throat of absence,
a rhythm swirling down the drain of thought.

I do not pursue it. It resists my touch.
It coils at the edges of understanding,
half-formed, half-wild, shifting, unraveling, reforming—
a thing too untamed for words to hold.

It battles

Letters Unwritten

No one turns in their grave,
so, Irene I will turn for you.

I will turn this final page,
turn all those love-lights out
that I have kept bright
for these many decades.
Turn off the flow of love letters
that,
though never written,
I did indeed, scribe upon the dark,
dead-eyed nights.

Graves thrive on the marrow of lovers.
I have imagined you and I
both decaying

Unwritten Process

There is an unwritten process in the book of flatulence 
For when it is passed
Firstly, if there is a dog in the room
Naturally, it was the dog who did that blast 

Next in line are children
When an awful smell wafts by
Of course it's one of the little angels
Which they always and forever deny 

Lastly it

Unwritten labels

Unwritten labels

Why do you profile me?
Why do your eyes scream danger at my shadow?
They strip me of my humanity.
Am I just another face to fit your mold,
A man whose presence shifts your peace to paranoia?
A man walks by, another fleeting threat,
Am I so easily condemned by what I am,
Not who I strive to be?

You say

Unwritten Promises

In the shadows where silence speaks loudest,
I found you, not in words, but pauses—
Between breaths, between worlds, we exist,
A rhythm of forgotten, unspoken causes.

You are the dusk that lingers, just before night,
An unraveling thread of fate’s own disguise.
I reach for you, but the moon holds tight,
A dance of hands too far, yet close in our

UNSENT LETTERS

Lord you laid down your life for me
I am not worthy to even kiss your feet
Dusty words used on repeat seem weak
Unopened letters from heavy heart bleeds

I am so full of sin and selfishness 
How can I write you when I am 
Lost in the darkness of my worldly ways 
Like a bat I hang

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