Sleepless Shore
With ink on her hands she wrote to me her truths
reading over her fingered letters
she gave onto my eyes her promises
and as her words echoed through me
its her hands I ached to kiss
its her fingertips I wished to feel along my face
I moved and I kept still to her image
writing back to her impatiently my inner-truths
my collapsing conditions without her I wrote
steady was the heart and mind I listened to
finding words that came easy to promise her
always and just enough to carry on past it all
whatever it was that came and left its mark
with gentle strokes I painted each letter each passion
laid and displayed carelessly and faithfully in her name
and in the pattern of my insanity, I spoke to her willfully
yours now and forever began each page
forever and a day ended each phrase and with it I reached for her
and in the tune and ballad of a memory I finished....
poem by KarlRomeo PierreLouis
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Related quotes
Letters To No One
I wrote a letter to my love
and never received a reply.
I've often wondered why that was.
Did he up and die?
Yes, he did. It's a fact.
And because I didn't know
I kept writing letters
and kept feeling low.
These letters went to no one.
So no one wrote to me.
I've often wondered if all my words
would come back home to me?
And then one day they all came back.
'Undeliverable'
is what they said.
I guess my lover moved away
or maybe he was dead.
And so I stopped my letters.
I never wrote again.
I still have all those letters,
unopened and unread.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Dotty and Willy.
Dotty screws the pen lid,
puts the pen down, folds
her hands in her lap. Willy
has finished his poem, he
is now silent, his muse has
gone. She watches as her
brother sits back in his chair,
pushes his fingers through his
dark hair and sighs. That makes
her almost cry, that poet muse
going like that, him sitting there,
face empty, sighs leaving him
instead of words. Tonight she
will enter it all in her journal,
after cocoa and a biscuit and
Willy's kiss and him gone off
to bed, humming to himself.
She will sit by lamplight, take
out her pen, and write on the
clean page, how he wrote,
what he wrote, the words,
the muse, the leaving of him.
She will leave out the kiss,
the embrace, the seeing each
other face to face. Willy hates
writing things down, he just likes
to sit when the words come and
he can speak them and let Dotty
write the words in the air floating
there. He gets up from his chair,
paces the room, his hands behind
his back, his words gone, his mood
dark, becoming black. Dotty looks
at her hands, entwines her fingers,
makes a church, makes a steeple,
looks inside, sees ink stained people.
poem by Terry Collett
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Writing
My words they no longer flow like a calm river
They rip, through, delicate flowers wither
Not in a long time have I wrote pure gold
One more worthless word and I'll explode
So I write these words to help express
That to me my writing can no longer impress
If the letters I write turn to heavy stone
Maybe I should try changing my tone
Even when words sing a merry tune
When the words hit me like a monsoon
I look back and scowl at scribbles and letters
And know there is a need for them to be better
So I try to write something funny, add humour
Rhythms with big cats, small rats, lions and pumas
But it all seems to lack that special spark
Something with a vicious bite and a gentle bark
Let's try and make it dark, murder and death
Something that literally stops ones breath
Words that hide the killer, build suspense
But this dark angst and pain is all pretence
A rhyme about love, happy and quite light
A poem about everything that can go right
Maybe just maybe it will all fit together
But these words take too long, almost forever
I guess I'll just carry on in this infuriating way
I'll continue writing the words I just can't say
So when I feel the need to write I'll let it all out
Then you will find out just what I will write about
poem by Rebecca Pepper
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His Call
That evening
I sat down to write
My very last mail
To him.
And while I was writing
I could feel
My aching heart
Throbbing so loud
I could hear
Every beat of it
Pulsating with pain.
And still I kept writing
My very last mail
To him.
Though my eyes
Felt blurred
With all the tears
That rushed asunder
Streaming through my cheeks
And yet I brushed them aside
And wrote
My very last mail to him.
And when I had done
All the writing
I took a long, last look
At that letter of mine
Re-reading every word of it
That I had written to him
With all my heart...
Those precious moments
Were so endearing to me
For I felt that
Once this mail goes
I won't be able to
Write to him anymore
No more of those
Diary mails of mine
I used to write to him
Everyday.
For I had made a Promise
Never to go back
To him.
And that promise I had made
To him and to myself
With all the pain
And the agony
That had shrouded me.
Yes - that promise has stayed Intact
And I would abide by it.
And I haven't faltered...
Though my tender heart feels
So very Bruised.
And even though
The other day
He called me up
And I heard
His broken voice
Over the phone
Saying that
He had read my mail
Explaining himself
How he was...
How very dear to him
I have been
How very close
To his heart.
I just listened
And yet his garble of words
Were beyond me now
And more than his voice
His words of care
I could hear -
The waves of silence
That had engulfed me.
He did all the talking
And I -
All the listening...
And yet,
Today - when I look back
I don't feel like going back
To him anymore.
And I know he might call again
Asking me if I am cross.
In life's such delicate
Situations -
Being angry doesn't help
So why should I be?
It is just that
I don't feel like
Writing to him anymore
The pain is just too much
And so are the scars of the past
Like scabs on the skin
Bleeding every now and then.
And so that was my last mail
My very last mail to him
And his call for a truce
I had to choose...
Truce with him
Or truce with my silence.
And I looked back
At all the hard times
He had given me -
All the pain of the past years
That kept reverberating inside
Like the Tinnitus of being Deaf.
And I thought
I would call it a truce
A truce of realisation
A truce of acceptance
No - not with him.
But - A Lifetime's Truce
With me and my Destiny.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Forever
Take these roses all from me
Let me live, let me be
For a little while
Let my eyes,
See everything and nothing in their time
I do not mind
Who've guess I'd learn
To let the walls around me burn
Light up the hillside
My words, I ate them for so long and nothing changed
It was just the same
And I don't know if you see me
But I can tell you your face is clear
I will see you...
Forever
Forever
I will see you
Forever
Forever
Call me close once again
Call me teacher, call me friend
Just like the first time
Call my name, it echos around me in this room
Its all you
I don't know if you hear me there
But it's dark so no one cares
I will hear you...
Forever
Forever
I will hear you
Forever
Forever
I wanted you to be everything to me
Now I've got to learn to carry on
I know I cannot hide this emptiness inside
But nothing is the same since you've gone
Send me letters from above
Send me strength, send me love
Such sweet love
Sing me songs that echo in my head and in my heart
That's where you are
And I don't know if you feel me here
I can tell you one thing that's clear
I will feel you...
Forever
Forever
I will feel you
Forever
Forever
I will hear you
Forever
Forever
I will see you
Forever
Forever
Take these roses all from me
Let me live, let me be
song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My companion
I don't know where I'll be,
when who ever buys my book to read.
I was just writing the date on my new
notebook, and these thoughts came to my mind.
Sometimes when I'm going over some
writing I see the date on the paper,
and it brings me memories of
how I felt at the time when I
wrote those poems,
Those notes, they have the flavor
of me. My intimate thoughts my most
saddest and happiest moments of
my existence.
My poems my notes my
stories and my hands, they are one.
One memory in all together.
The way my hands clinch my
writing my every move of prose.
I don't know who
Will want to read the writing coming
from a stranger a none-known poet.
From lonesome I, no one
knows who she is.
I cherish every letter,
word and phrase my hands have writting.
Because all of this has been to me a wonderful
companion of my lonesome life of appetence to feed.
Copyright©ElenaToledo2011
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Do You See My Truths? .....
naked shall you see me
dressed in twilight
do you see the truth in me now?
you are wrong
for my thoughts are still covered thickly
and each letter
still tries to conceal what my words
shall try to speak
everyday i write the words
the poems that you read
do you claim to see the truths in me now?
you are wrong again
for what i am still belongs to those
unspoken
and in my silence i shower you
with its emptiness
do you see my truths now?
you are wrong again
my silence does not speak everything
there is still the hush of the wind
the chimes of wood and metal
this silence runs and does not stop
and you flag it
and talk to it
do you hear my truths? do you see them now?
you are wrong again
for i have buried all of them in their niches
when you open each
you will find no door
when you go over the windows
you will see what truths might still be there
those dried petals of a rose
those letters with words faded like sunsets
those broken pieces of porcelain and glass
those jigsaw puzzles still
unfilled
those chains with missing links
those buttons that do not fit
do you see my truths now?
i agree, on those dusts, they have now become yours
visible to the caution of
your heart.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chain Letter
I wrote so many chain letters to you,
Wrote about how much I feel for you,
You made me happy,
You took away my pain,
You always made funny joke out of everything,
When I got mad you would hold me tight,
When I cried you would wipe away my tears,
I wrote this for you,
For how I feel for you,
I once thought I lost you,
You once thought you lost me,
This may be puppy love or real love I don’t know what it is but I feel it in my heart,
My heart is yours,
Your heart is mine,
This chain letter is forever yours.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Dead And Gone
In years from now when I am dead and gone
Will people read the words that I had wrote
If they do will they agree with what they read
And if so truly, understand the feelings I had spoke.
Will they feel the pain and suffering that I felt
In the many days of my own life
Maybe they will etch my feelings inside their soul
And If so, I wonder for me if they will cry.
I wonder if anyone will go into a deep thought
After reading the words that I had spoke
And then will they think and understand that feeling too
While inside their soul or heart a memory I will had awoke.
Maybe they will be with me in those lonesome nights
When my soul and I felt so very alone
When I couldn't sleep so I had to write
While my soul stayed stationary, but my mind it did roam.
And will they feel the pain that I did feel
With every line that I suffered as I did write
Will they shed a tear that my lover never shed for me
While she was always in my heart and in my sight.
And when they finish my book and close it shut
Will they reflect my feelings as they walk away
Will they say they know the pain that I have felt
As they too had felt it in their very own days.
Will they cry the tears that was never cried for me
As they go searching for my last resting place
To give the sympathy they might say I deserve
While trying to visualize my soul through my face.
If they look and find and then walk unto my grave
I wander for me if i will receive long forgotten grieving
Telling me how sad and the pity they hold for me
After reading my words, maybe they will start believing.
And maybe they will walk to the graves of the others
The ones who did me wrong and who sealed my fate
Who made me the poet whom I had to become
Will they tell them their souls, and living they do hate.
So as I finish writing with these last few thoughts
I hope forever my words and feelings will continue on
As I know I am not alone and my pain is not fastened to me
But really who will know, until I am dead and gone.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only Thing That I Have From You
Only thing that I have from you is this rose
This rose that you have gave me when we were in love together
And now I found it between the old pages of memory
And we are apart forever
I remember how a nice day was that day together
When you gave me the red rose and I wished that our love will last forever
Only thing that I have from you is this post card
This post card that means the worlds for me
Makes me feel all that had happend between us was just a nightmare
And I will wake up one day to be with you and never apart
Only thing that I have from you is this poem
This poem that you wrote for me, promising me to love forever
And now I am reading it and we are apart till ever
Only thing that I have from you is this sorrowful heart
This heart that still has your great love inside
Forgetting you was a nightmare for it
This heart that cried bloody tears for your love
Never and ever forgod you my sweet!
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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A note in my diary
Writing this piece of peace
From my heart to you
Reading your words
From your mind for me
Feel so numb and I can’t hear
Anything you say makes me sad
And I am going to buy a fish
A fish to feed you all because...
Some words are incomplete
Few words are baseless
I’m going to take a shower
And get back to work…
Writing a short note and will send
Few diaries of snaps and poems
Pick one of them and wet the page
Let me read your mind and your words…
poem by Nithin Jacob
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My Song
I wrote a song
It's called 'my life'
I tried my best to make it a good one
I'd never written a song
Twas indeed my first
I had an eraser
I couldn't clean my mistakes though
It turned out to be a long song
A hundred and twenty pages worth
A page a year
I made a mess of it
Blue pen made a mark
As depression took a quarter of it
Yellow pen made an entrance
I decided it was better than blue
Red pen tried to hurt me
As all anger was kept inside
Green pen whispered a note
I wished I had my neighbour's song
So many colours on just one song
Twenty-five pages were dark
I knew not which way to go
I tried to turn a page but couldn't
I basked in pages gone
Hence left several pages blank
Twenty-five pages were wet
As tears serenaded my heart, it did the pages
Too much pain in one song
Tried to change the words
The things I thought all made the song
On a scale of good to bad, bad stole the day
I searched and found other songs titled 'my life'
I wrote my song the way they had
My song was like a painting
One in utter disharmony
One drawn by a clueless artist
But an artist whose passion burned his painting
I set my heart on fire on page 35
There had to be more
And more I had
On page 120, my eyes were dim and hands tired
Since pages couldn't be turned
My mind sat, and looked back
What had I done?
I'd been mountain high
I'd been valley low
I'd been good
I'd been bad
I'd been....
I lay my head on my song
Took my last breath
But before I did
I held a girl
Who had a song called 'my life'
She read my song
And shed a tear
And said I had written....a masterpiece.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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She Sang the Songs...
She sang the songs... he wrote the words;
sweet words of love, in perfect time
to her style... soft words of love;
the lyrics to her Country songs
of love and heartbreak, hope and sadness;
life spread out in flawless rhyme,
but they were really hopes, and dreams
of his...
he knew this, all along.
She wrote songs as well; and, when he read them...
his heart missed a beat;
Beneath the stave, below the notes...
her lyrics, in her childlike hand;
soft words of love, he longed to hear
her say to him...
all whispered, sweet;
now, here they were, before his eyes...
but, accident...
or gently planned?
Were they whispers of her heart...
or just composed from out her head?
he had no way of knowing,
but... in either case, her words were sweet;
a silky glide across the page...
a wistful ballad... hearts that bled;
he sadly smiled, yes... his heart bled as well,
but,
to a different beat.
She sang the songs... he wrote the words,
words from his heart... soft, yet intense;
Perhaps, one day, she'd see
they were for her...
and, not her audience.
poem by Dream Weaver
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8-3-1
The way I want you babe
Its embarrassing
I cant control myself
Its just too much for me
I cant concentrate
I dont know what to say
Except your name baby
The sweetest name
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
When you say my name
I begin to shake
I break out in a sweat
This is the best it gets
Theres nothing second rate
About this feeling babe
Its forever come what may
Its what I hope and pray yeah
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this baby
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
Its understanding and its understood
And baby it sure feels good
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this baby
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely Tear
I close my eyes and you are there
As you stand in front of me
I reach out my hand to hold you
As you have set my soul and mind free
You then give me a smile and then a kiss
And now my heart and soul is on fire
I tremble and shake with thoughts only of you
My heart is full of want and your desire.
You then close your eyes and walk towards me
We then kiss with both passion and need
You gave me what I want I gave you what you have
To each other our passions we will feed.
You then step away to show me who you are
I ravish you with my hands and eyes
I then caress your breasts and touch your lips
Once again I am a man deep inside.
You turn around just one more time
To prove to me that your the woman for me
I take a deep breath it explodes in my soul
My soul and mind of all other women is free.
You take me by the hand and lead me to our bed
We lay down together with you at my side
Your head is on my chest and my hands in your hair
My passion for you for this night I will not hide.
You then make me a man I can barely stand
I look at you as you are covered with silk and lace
We then kiss again you’re my lover and friend
As I can see the pleasure upon your face.
I open my eyes and now you are gone
And sadly it was a dream you are no longer here
I now forget the passion and the words I had spoke
Now I walk away alone, with one lonely tear.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Is Me
He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.
He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.
He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.
He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.
He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.
Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Illiterate Poet
The illiterate poet
Painted his passionate ballad
With the colors of the rainbow
Both happy and sad
Without using a pen
He wrote
Without making words
He spoke
People braced themselves
For a miracle to happen
Waiting as the mute delves
For words to say
As the clock ticked by
And no words came out
As the people waved goodbye
He stood to shout
Inaudible words
Because he was
Nothing but
A mute
poem by Poetic Kadri
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A Ode Poem To You
My mother gave me an ode poem, oh how I love that poem
The scene of her perfume on it, the picture of me in her arms
This letter I keep with me all the time, I love it so much I sleep with it under my pillow
To her nice hand writing, to the black ink she wrote in, she wrote until her ink went low
My poem is great, my poem is wonderful, to the white paper she wrote on it’s beautiful
To the green words of the title, my poem she gave me is the best
I love how she gave the lip stick print on the top of my poem, sad to say she's at rest
I will always love the poem she gave to me before she passed
To the words in the poem she gave me will always endure
Word by word my lovely poem is speaking to me gratefully
This ode poem was from my mom and for only me sincerely
I love my poem, oh how wonderful it can be
Its so wonderful do you want to read,
Take a look, take a look and you will see
poem by Twilight Simmons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Missed Right Here
That letter I wrote to you last year?
The one that said I wish you'd disappear?
You are missed right here and it aches my heart...
I wish I could take back what I started
To part us to see you departing!
If I knew I could say how miserable I am,
You would understand that.
And I would open!
If I knew that from first words spoken!
That letter I wrote to you last year?
Did not make clear my love for you.
Or was it too clear and that is why you split?
Just because I said, 'Kiss my ass and I'm out of it! '
Was not meant for you to go!
That's why I say you don't know me at all.
That's why we reach these crossroads,
And becomed stalled!
How can we overcome torment and raging fits...
If you leave me all alone twitching in a fit!
I thought you loved me?
You would always be with me,
When I went ballistic! And I've missed it!
That letter I wrote to you last year?
The one that said I wish you'd disappear?
You are missed right here and it aches my heart...
I wish I could take back what I started
To part us...
I did that to see you departing!
If I knew I could say how miserable I am,
To you
As I hold back tears ready to drip
From my eyes.
And from my eyes I could see that yours are open.
You would understand that.
But I fear to hear first words spoken...
That may leave me choked up and heartbroken.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Words and Messages
It started with a word
You wrote it to me
Began an inspired read
Gave to the night poetry
And the beauty found
A reflection of you
A line penned from the heart
Speaks volumes in itself
Quiet little words
Paint a new vibrant world
Unfamiliar and beautiful
And then it’s the same
As though known before
You wrote it to me
A single line began it all
Words and messages
You had me at hello
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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