"inconsolable" poems
The fault of our reality is not written in our stars
And it will not dance across unfavorable constellations,
Or dissolve into inconsolable fragments.
The fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
But how fortunate would it be?
To cast the providence of our unlucky affairs
Into the gloomy twilight,
Where the sky is so unilluminated
That we could close our restful eyes
And fathom a world where it does not exist?
But the fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
We are heavily folded sheets of stationary:
A collection of utterances
Bound into melancholy novels
By our mangled hearts,
And though spoken words
Still fall onto my turning pages
As tears do fall from my reddened cheeks,
I have yet to forget
The chapter you have left unwritten,
Because an unwritten chapter is one to be adorned:
It cannot end
For it does not exist.
And so we fumble through an amorous affliction,
Fabricated into a bittersweet infinity.
And at midnight,
When my restless fingers
***** the empty air for you,
And the reality of our desolate fault
Seeps into my hands,
I wish you were here.
But the fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
j.s.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
This woman speaks in tongues
Foreign languages roll from her mouth
Like summer fog ladled over the rim
Of Candlestick Park
In the not-so-distant
Far far away of long long ago
This woman speaks in rotund sentences
Effulgent with vocabulary
That shimmers with the electrified joy
Of lights over Ghirardelli Square
In the not-so-darkness
Of the clammy and cabalistic night
This woman speaks with her hands
Impresciable, implacable, and inconsolable
As she tries to mold untranslatable words
From air that is as thin
As the promises she’d preferred
And purchased with the shards of her heart
This woman speaks in lyrics
Arpeggios of adjectives and alliteration
That tumble acrobatically with the intricacy
And grace
Of a hummingbird in spring
On the kiss of a blossom
Rich and fragrant and giving as
This woman speaking in tongues
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 4:35 PM UTC
all my life
ive only thought of one thing
YOU
you are why i got an education
why i tried so hard to make beautiful things with my hands
why i got dressed up
why i learned to sing
and dance
why i never stopped trying to make a living
why i always went to the gym
and worked out to be diamond hard
why i was polite or inconsolable
why i ran seven miles a day
why i tried to be charming
why i could never stop playing with myself
why i got through james joyce
why i learned
conversational hypnosis
neuro linguistics
magick
and
witch
craft
to invoke a spell
that would compel
YOU
to dance
the wiggle wiggle
naked
from hot rhythms
and slow melodic
sways
as i prayed
burning
blood red candles
during the darkest moon
for adorations
with endless masturbations
to your beautiful *** and feet
for tender red lipped mercies
kisses kisses kisses
because
you are beauty piqued
from your golden angelic head
soft silken hair
to your sweet pink arched feet
and twinkling painted toes
magnetized
to yank my eyes
and be your
**** boy *** toy
my goddess glitter ****
queen of heaven
all paradise any man needs
BUT
sometimes i couldn't have
YOU
and
it velvet crushed me
taught me hopelessness
broke my will
gave me fear
made me cry
and shiver inside
tore my heart to smithereens
twisted my in-nerds
like jagged metal
melting me
as i spiraled
down
into madness
all burning veins of fire
until inferiority dragged deep
suffocating me
shuddery
like
winters
midnight freeze
and howling winds
through
hollow desolations
marrow-less
bones
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
*"You love them
With all your heart and soul
Yet, you can't be with them
But you'll never let them go...
And it hurts..."*
- The Girl Who Loved You
Submerged and gasping
Swept away by the immense wave
Thoughts of you I'm painfully drinking
To my heart I'm but a slave
Caught in the undertow
Find myself submitting carelessly
Brushed aside all that I used to know
Drowning in emotional debris
There's strength in me yet
I need not be killed today
I could break free, I could forget
But fight I do not, instead still I lay
Because you see... You are the ocean
And I am but an invisible speck
I, too, want a place in heaven
Not wallow an inconsolable wreck
I'd get washed over but I'd swim deeper
So we could exist only in memory
My heart betrays but never will I sever
Even if you're the love that was never meant to be
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 5:49 AM UTC
'Of course I was drugged, and so heavily I did not regain
consciousness until the next morning. I was horrified to
discover that I had been ruined, and for some days I was inconsolable,
and cried like a child to be killed or sent back to my aunt.'
-Mayhew, London Labour and the London Poor
Even so distant, I can taste the grief,
Bitter and sharp with stalks, he made you gulp.
The sun's occasional print, the brisk brief
Worry of wheels along the street outside
Where bridal London bows the other way,
And light, unanswerable and tall and wide,
Forbids the scar to heal, and drives
Shame out of hiding. All the unhurried day,
Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives.
Slums, years, have buried you. I would not dare
Console you if I could. What can be said,
Except that suffering is exact, but where
Desire takes charge, readings will grow erratic?
For you would hardly care
That you were less deceived, out on that bed,
Than he was, stumbling up the breathless stair
To burst into fulfillment's desolate attic.
3.9k
~¤~ω~¤⊙¤~ω¤~
My father told me
this is Love
how two people show
tender feelings for
one another
My father held me
so very close
I had always wanted
To be his Special Girl
Number One in our
cloistered world
My father used his charm
to keep me in his arms
till he was done with me.
Then I became
Uncomfortable
Inconsolable
Unreachable
Unlovable
I beseech abusers everywhere
Please let the children be.
~¤~ω~¤¥⊙¥⊙¥¤~ω¤~
~Moonflower~Fluer de Luna~April 2015~
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
He barks in the distance
Howling at the moon from jagged cliffs
Anxiously waiting for her response,
Dolefully widened eyes grasp for her
With a warmth withstanding gelid air
Her symphonious ocean drowns his cries
She illuminates her inconsolable sea
Her waves absorbing his mournful song
She reaches for him from high heavens
How terribly she yearns to be with him, just once more
Jan 4, 2023
Jan 4, 2023 at 12:37 AM UTC
did it work?
I give a useless tug on my skin, done to reassure me
instead it reaffirms to me:
I am, again, inconsolable.
is the mask I wear today sealed on tight? too tight?
does it hurt to pretend so much?
does it seem clear to anyone else that there are loose ends I've yet to tend to? backdoors I've overlooked?
transparencies? can they see through me?
I bare my teeth. canines, canines from the days of carnivores.
am I that carnivore? in my genes I am.
and in practice?
inconsolable, uncontrollable
barely a threat in her form.
this question comes to me under many guises:
an old man asking me: are you that of practice or are you that of genes?
a professor lecturing: are you that of cultivated identity or that of inherited form?
my concerned friends crying:
who are you?
is your mask anything like you?
and then i wake.
it's a terror turned nightly chorus.
recurring nightmares, doctors offer.
i admit i know the content of my dreams to be unfounded:
in life there are no physical masks that do the jobs my terrors depict.
no veil to hide the contours of each flawed personality, no mask to others, just me, weeping-in-the-bathroom, never-myself me
and those attempted favours to be like one another
i'll be like you so you'll like me
i'll like you because i'm like you
so the body charges on in this society like a mirror
cross your left leg when she crosses her right, fold your arms when she's folded hers, raise your hand to say hello, raise your hand to say goodbye
a kiss on the right cheek, a kiss on the left, one more on the left
this is how you show love and a greeting all at once
fold your arms over each other, this is sympathy, this is greeting, do you take comfort in this too?
so you learn to speak with your arms, and you learn to speak with your legs, and you learn to speak with your face, and you learn to speak with your head.
soon your eyes are apprentices of acquaintances, learning to borrow looks like library books, take on others' stories like they've read them end to end.
so in the middle of this process you learn to effectively say:
i see you, i hear you, i perceive you.
and in these attempted favours, at the end of your night terrors, is the parrot that they want to see. the parrot that you argue, can't really be me.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
I'd like to think
That just the taste of your lips
Could wash out every name
That's been on my tongue
I'd like to think
That mine could do the same
For you
But the truth is
I am not whole enough
To be able to fill your vacancy
The truth is
You deserve greater
And so much more
Than what I have to offer
You deserve a girl who won't cry
The first time you make love to her
Someone who isn't broken
Who isn't tainted by past
Someone who isn't scraped from rough hands
Who isn't built of memories and nightmares
You deserve someone who can love without fear
And give you everything
But I am not that someone
I will tremble in your arms no matter how honest they are
At night I will be restless and inconsolable
When the weight of the world is too heavy
I will collapse underneath it
I am not strong
I sometimes struggle in keeping myself intact
And I am filled to the rim with emptiness
You deserve so much more
Than what I can give
But I am capable of loving
Harder than most
I will pour out every last part of myself
Just to give you something to hold
I may not be
What you deserve
But I can try
My best.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
In the searing airless midsummer-
Clockwork morning rewinds
cobalt into a bleeding orange yolk dripping across
the canvas of the world.
Sky, turn the colour of dreams. Heart, turn the colour of love-
I’m posed over a skyscraper
Because I wanted to touch the stars. Because I wanted to touch you.
There’s a beauty found in the smallest spaces
Gaps in your heartbeat, getting your toothbrush mixed with mine
Honey-lemon on my tongue
So maybe you loved me, but not in a way I comprehended
I’m thinking of your lips, your eyes
and the way you said goodbye-
The word wrapped around your tongue like a prayer.
Pink bleeds into violet and it looks like the 5 a.m. Berlin skyline
might tear itself apart, like a heart bursting or a car crash.
So it’s dawn. So I’m inconsolable.
And if the angel sun sets,
then so be it.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
Il était très **** dehors était noir
Comme un maudit soir
Qui allait porter: angoisse et tristesse
Pour une mère soudainement tombée en détresse
Les escadrons de l’obscurité viennent d’exécuter
Son enfant de vingt et une années
Il avait prétendument un couteau en main
Et l’innocence d’un jeune matin
Fatal dans sa pensée. La technologie
Peut, par hasard, améliorer ou détruire la vie
Plusieurs cartouches tirées, le jeune homme est tombé
Criblé de balles réservées pour des condamnés
Les assassins nocturnes ont abattu une autre victime
Ce qui est pire, c’est qu’ils ne vont pas payer pour cet horrible crime
C’est abominable, le noir est souvent injustement ciblé
Le racisme est un cancer qu’on doit éradiquer
La mère est inconsolable
Ses douleurs implacables
Ses larmes intarissables
Et ses peines incommensurables
C’est triste et amer, la mère va enterrer son enfant
C’est drôle, affreux, criminel et méchant
Les malhonnêtes « foliciers » sans remords
Viennent de causer un autre mort
Ils ne connaissent pas les souffrances
Endurées par une mère pour donner naissance
A un bébé en bonne et parfaite santé
Quelle tristesse! Quelle calamité!
C’est une autre tranchée forcée
C’est vraiment déchiré un cœur jadis farci de fierté
Voir une mère pleurer dans une telle condition
Est écœurante pour toute la famille
Et les amis
Qui brûlent dans un enfer imbibé de pénibles émotions
L’ignorance et l’immaturité sont deux plaies
Qui jamais ne sèment ni l’amour, ni la paix
Les pleurs de la mère sont intarissables
Ses douleurs inimaginables
Ses peines incontrôlables
Et la mère inconsolable.
Copyright© March 2011, Hebert Logerie, Tous Droits Réservés
Hebert Logerie est l’auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 11:02 PM UTC
A worst-case-scenario mentality
Breeds emotional nightmares of what-ifs
Methodically feeling the pain in each possibility
Preparing for Hell, knowing it is impractical, improbable, and unkind
Each reaction gauged
Smiles erupt in each better choice
A familiar road traveled often
Lead only by a history of pain
It ebbs and flows, bobs and weaves at will
This reality is organized, easy to understand
Random thought of an unlikely, unfathomable future
**Vivid like a film
Unwavering, persistent
There is no control**ling its outcome
Forced to watch the images forged in a broken mind
Tears burn flesh and a naked heart bleeds
Stop rolling, just...stop
No amount of pleading slows the images
The pain is overwhelming
Far beyond self-inflicted, torturous, methodical thoughts
Uncontrollable, inconsolable
True and real
So very real
There is but one way to stop that future
The one shown in visions of just deserts
The future that smolders through present joy
Preemptive pain is just not an option
I've seen the future my heart has built
**The shards of a shattered soul
Offer no comfort**
My worst-case-scenario was but a benign freckle on the elbow of a body invaded by metastatic melanoma
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 5:00 AM UTC
Past thick briers and dense thickets
Beyond inconsolable oceans and insufferable lakes
Amidst the roar of obstreperous winds
Within the abyss of calamity
I've let you past my obscurities into the forest of my heart
In return you promised your own so our forests would grow
Instead you left the seeds of hatred that grew amongst my trees
You used me as an exploit for your own selfish endeavors
Our love was made of rot and mold
The passion expired and you were gone
You left me to swim my way back
To climb past my briers and thickets
To bear the violent winds
To climb out of the dark abyss
So that I may find myself once again in clutters of debris
Spread out across the shores of what remains of me
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 7:35 PM UTC
Rain clouds stain the Sky
with dark lies
Vagrant Wind trumpets them
to the world aloud
Lightning ruptures her
with needle like claws
Thunder stamps her
under its thudding feet
And the molested Sky sheds tears,
inconsolable!
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
Everything thing you are about to read is the whole truth, and nothing but...
she flew
via jet blue,
da coop
decamped urban lands,
leaving poet producing this
piece de (at-the-door poem-de crap) resistance:
Sad mad bad
where I asked?
a mountain in Mexico,
where purpled pink wild flowers decorate,
and the yoga mat is never rolled up
and post pampering included!
harrumph,
and worse,
exclaimed
**NYC got florists
and yogi masters
for hire**
with my sisters,
will commune,
hike by dawn light,
eat veggies day and night
and bone my body
with exercise
**Manhattan got veggies, central parks,
and occasionally a pretty dawn,
bone doctors extraordinaire,
don't you know the best veggies,
grown in Whole Foods in the
Time Warner Center?
go then, leaving poet,
sad mad bad
to salve my soul,
know this!
I am eating
a tuna Swiss melt,
French Fries and ketchup,
Danish made with Danish cheese,
drinking my fatte latte.
This my stress,
so well expressed,
but baby, be advised,
I am doing it,
in our bed!
all day tv watching,
crushed neath an inconsolable need
to do all those spiritual things
of which you disapprove!**
you went down the long hallway
at 6am,
you thot you heard me say,
Leila, you got me on my knees!
what was said but this:
*Save me babe,
from doing as I please!*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
They say it scars you for life!
They say it consumes your soul!
They say you never get over it!
They say a lot of things …
Am I so
different?
Or maybe?
I’m
just
Indifferent!
*Who knows?
I don’t know
I really don’t know*
I often peek inside the rusty old bucket of dead babies that I keep in the loft
And?
I feel nothing
Not a **** thing
Feeble
Formed
Foetuses
*Swirling around and around and around
and around and around
and around*
Why is it that I have no pain?
Why do I not crave my dead babies?
I couldn’t even tell you when they fell out
When they made a run for it
When they thought **** this …. I’m out of this *****
Does that make me a bad person?
Would it be more acceptable if I was distraught and inconsolable?
Then you could all pat me on the back and collect my tears
Well ….
Heres the news …
“There’s NO ******* tears here, baby!”
So you all can take your sanctimonious ******** and shove it straight up your sympathetic compassionate arses
In fact
I’ll even lay a wager that if this was
YOU
YOU
would run
through
Imaginary birthdays
Imaginary names
Conceptions
Etc
"Sshhhh ….. Don’t mention babies in front of her"
She is so fragile
Full of so much love
A tiny delicate little flower
Full of so much love
MILK IT *****
COS TONIGHT I’LL BE HOWLING AT THE MOON SURROUNDED BY DANCING DEAD BABIES
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 7:42 AM UTC
*Isabel sits on the rusted garden bench,
my heart misses a beat, yet again as I watch,
her eyes are downcast, it's late afternoon,
she looks **** tired, dishevelled, distraught.
The world is on a slide, going bad to worse,
believe me i could see premature grey in her coiffure,
she is fired from her job, I can guess,
it hits me hard to think she is inconsolable.
Then, we all are, who is secure these days!
Under a tree, with withered leaves, she sits,
climatic change, obviously is playing havoc with it,
the evening sun, just slanted westwards,
seems unusually cruel to this girl,
no cover of thick foliage, moreover.
I see children playing around Isabel,
even they are soon losing interest,
if mirthful they are, make some noise and
run around, she would have smiled,
I would have felt far better than this!
Well, I don't know Isabel, may be her name is different,
on evenings I used to watch her from afar,
with curious eyes, I admired her incomparable elan,
hoping to make friends with her,
such a gentle soul she looked.
We'd become friends, by and by, I had hope,
I saw her smile and loved her sunny side,
but before I could meet and ask her out,
it happened, even without a notice,
I am fired from my job, today.
They said the downturn affected us bad, it showed,
What can you possibly say,
other than, just accepting the pink slip*
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
the coast, it is just as you promised.
elusive--
the white stones shifting beneath my feet,
this wind. this rain,
the way the steely sky
trickles down to kiss the sea,
the indistinct rumors / hints / echoes of mountains
where the mist has slept with the trees.
vast, inconsolable:
the cliffs whisper to me
of their endless
journey to the horizon,
and captured in this fragrant
brushstroke of balsam and pine
I feel the damp northwest morning
soak into my skin,
and suddenly there is
an itching of feathers
and salt in my veins.
{evergreen, wild}
for a second,
I bite into the marine chaos
of these dancing whitecaps,
and it is just as you promised.
untamable.
pacific.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
Once we were lovers mind, body, and soul
Eros has flown, only philia remains
Sadness takes hold, no longer am I whole
Distance creeps in; the heart is inconsolable
I am drowning in sorrow’s cold grey rain
Once we were lovers mind, body, and soul
Love is diminished, leaving a gaping hole
Deep inside. Our connection slowly wanes
Sadness takes hold, no longer am I whole
I feel I am only playing a role
Toleration fades, leaves only disdain
Once we were lovers mind, body, and soul
Failed actions have taken a painful toll
Slowly dying, overtaken by pain
Sadness takes hold, no longer am I whole
Future uncertain we’ve lost all our goals
This slow erosion lets sorrow’s madness reign
Once we were lovers mind, body, and soul
Sadness takes hold, no longer am I whole
krs
August 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
Whispers of the wind
Were drawn on the sky
Of the bitter mind you left.
Words of the swing
Were drawn on the lie
Of the sinner and his theft.
Poems of the lost
Were encrypted on the smiles
Of the blackest mind,
The inconsolable, misguided ghost.
Lyrics of the raws
Were sung in an old, crumbled swing
Forgotten in a pencil's graphite,
The Creator of the whispery wind.
A whole story was scattered
Like sand's little grains.
Each word was shattered
Until whispers have lost their shadow
A rememberance of us in a fabled meadow,
A pencil on plain paper,
It's all that remains.
Apr 16, 2011
Apr 16, 2011 at 1:50 PM UTC
having beguiled my Scorpio
the full moons know
what moistens the body
elicits stark truth of feeling
in vehement velocity
racing ahead of thought
and the two argue
not every word is lovely
nor should be spoken
reactions are often
vicious junk yard dogs
protecting piles of *******
only valuable to hoarders
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
My chest feels heavy,
my breathing is so tight
that I am almost running out of oxygen
leading me to a hypoxic state.
I’ve been punching
this pulsing sensation inside.
Cursing it to stop beating,
for all it ever pounds
is the most excruciating pain
I have ever felt my whole life.
Running deeply from my skin,
to every nerve and to every tiny
fiber of my being.
I wanted to scream
from the peak of Mount Thor,
from there I’ll jump
only to submerge myself
in the Mariana Trench
to slough every tear,
repel every hatred, and
to relinquish every throe
that there is inside me.
Where no one would have
to witness me at my weakest,
where nothing would hear me
as inconsolable,
somewhere I know I will not see you.
How could you?
You grabbed my heart,
petted it, then throw it away
and have it smashed
to the ground.
How could I?
Prospered by your sole existence,
and dreaded by
the wrath of tomorrow, by
the pang of longing, and
by the ache of defeat.
Bizarre, that’s what my faith is now.
As for my prayers, they’re perfidious.
I am finally unarmed.
Am no longer the warrior
I once used to be.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
The classroom window had a clear view of the park
and when the July clouds painted the sky dark
the boy would start to cry!
Why, the teacher exclaimed, why these tears
it's all so pleasant, and there's nothing to fear
the rain is so welcome, it does only good
so why boy it finds you in such bitter mood!
Saying thus, he would walk back to his table
by the rain upon windowpane, I was inconsolable
brisker than rain were the tears in my eyes
in the thought there would be flood, water would rise
the walk back home would be a herculean feat
with the street flooded, hidden manholes beneath
I was haunted by the spectre of how the water rose
crawled past my chest, and reached up the nose
the swelling river would find me an easy victim
the teacher didn't know, I didn't know how to swim!
When the school bell finally rang, they ran joyous in the rain
splashing and soaking merrily, their way was heaven
only I stayed back, as if my feet had grown roots
late evening I reached home, in heavy sodden boots.
May 20, 2024
May 20, 2024 at 9:42 AM UTC