"uncrossable" poems
The furthest distance in the world
Is not between life and death
But when I stand in front of you
Yet you don’t know that
I love you
The furthest distance in the world
Is not when i stand in font of you
Yet you can’t see my love
But when undoubtedly knowing the love from both
Yet cannot
Be together
The furthest distance in the world
Is not being apart while being in love
But when plainly can not resist the yearning
Yet pretending
You have never been in my heart
The furthest distance in the world
Is not
But using one’s indifferent heart
To dig an uncrossable river
For the one who loves you
by Rabindranath Tagore (7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
In the fragile shimmer of your tears lies tragedy.
The bone-white curve of the moon hooks onto the past.
The night has dragged on, endless, stilled to frost;
Who is it upstairs, lost in bone-chilling despair?
Rain plays light on the ruby-red windowsill.
All my years of life on paper, blown astray by the wind.
So distant are my dreams, they become mere threads of fragrance hanging in the air.
Drifting, wind-strung, into your likeness.
(CHORUS)
The chrysanthemum shattered, the floor is strewn with tragedy; your smile has already faded to yellow.
Petals land softly, breaking hearts; my matters of the heart lie in peace.
The northern wind is frenzied, the night is not yet spent; your shadow can't be cut away.
Leaving me, alone on the lake’s surface, to become two.
The flower already nears its dusk.
Once brilliant as the sun, it's fallen, dispersed.
Fate cannot bear the world's way of withering.
Worrying that the river will prove uncrossable, my autumn heart* tears in half.
Scared you won't reach land- a lifetime spent wavering.
Hear the horses charging hysterical on someone's landscape.
The great changes of the world only whistle past my unchanging martial attire.
It grows light out, just slightly. Gently, you sigh; a night spent in this cryptic melancholy.
(REPEAT CHORUS x2)
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
for Karlotti
~
And a flower on the borders of winter.
an unseasoned sign that the singular erupting bud
will lend the lens to see, give the courage to accept
the greatest joy of man will ever be
anticipation
there will be seasons that the singular erupting bud,
be the bitterest truth nail gunned into your temple,
the perversity of a mockery, an uncrossable boundary
a flowering sign of skull & bones meant to teach acceptance
the greatest curse of man will be
the changing seasons
*La mayor maldición del hombre,
Las estaciones cambiantes*
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 8:36 AM UTC
crimson flutters down in
beads in rhythmic hymns
tangling themselves like slipknots
or messy hair on Sunday afternoons
when sunlight floods living rooms and porches and drips off shingles
it continues down a pale forearm
in patterns
neat straight lines like lines on asphalt;
uncrossable.
when the hymns cease -
silent psalms begin and bathe in cold streams.
streams turn to lakes,
still, and warm as death.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
The only French I speak,
I learned
from the
uncrossable space
in bed
You.
Me.
I learned it
when we started
to just say bye
in the mornings
When we stopped
hugging after
work,
When I was too busy
playing games,
watching Netflix,
on my phone,
and you had already cleaned
the kitchen, put away the laundry,
You wanted something
you won't take now
because I wasn't too busy and I don't even play that game anymore, and I can't remember the shows but I'm sure they are still on Netflix,
and phones will always be a distraction from people to put everything down and take off the masks
we make so we can breathe
every day and connect as people. In those moments, I started missing you and you were already missing me. I just really wish I could stop going Supernova but there's a slowly swirling marble rock ball that's slowly making its way from sitting in fire of the pits of my stomach,
rolling up my chest, bouncing off ribs, escaping to the small of my back, rolling up my spine, spinning
counter clockwise
in figure eights
across my shoulder blades until it sits over my heart and sinks to my
Stomach
Again.
Now I've lost form and more and I really just need to get my
**** together and restart.
Look at what you've done
to my poetry.
BG-4/10/17
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
I stand at the shore of an ocean
vast, uncrossable waters
between me and my salvation
I could swim, but for how long?
how long before my limbs give out
my lungs searing in my chest
metal in my throat
salt in my mouth
so I stay on the shore
(metal in my throat
salt in my mouth)
feet on the ground
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 10:40 AM UTC
I know the miles that seperate us may feel uncrossable,
I know the distance makes us sad, that I cannot hold your hand,
Carry you, or even talk to you.
But
I know the love between us is greater than the miles,
Greater than just holding your hand,
Or opening the door for you.
I only wish, we could be together forever, my dear.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
There is a cemetery in my heart
Filled with broken dreams
The shattered remnants of my soul
Lie decomposing in each grave
All the hopes cherished
All the love given
But not returned
Beneath every tombstone
A piece of my self
That has been lost
I am nothing
But a walking corpse
It is no wonder then
That I am
Alone
Who could love
A battered and worn
Husk
A mere shell of a man
That always
Says or does the wrong thing
I am cursed
By the gods
By Fate
By karma
To wander eternally
Alone
Is this my hell dimension
******
To be ever close to my heart's desire
But still separated by an uncrossable chasm
What ill deeds
Could I have committed in past lives
To merit such an existence
Gods only know
But try as I might
My sins I cannot atone for
And so I wander on
Perpetually alone
Through the graveyard
That is my heart
With no hope
Of salvation
At least
Not in this lifetime
It seems.
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 5:23 AM UTC
It's the distance
The ever-present space
It's uncrossable
Defying me
But day by day I test it's limits
Hoping that in the barrier I feel,
The barrier that I can almost touch,
Has a weakness
So that I can slip in
And find my footing
And run
Run that distance between us
Leap across that boundary that hinders me
And cross into the impossible
The unthinkable
I strain to see what awaits
But it blurs and twists together
An obstacle as formidable as that barrier
And yet still I push
No blacks
No whites
Just a swirling mix of gray
I know not what I face
But I'm driven by determination
I'll find out one day
What is hiding in the shadows
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 10:33 PM UTC
How can you feel as unloved
as a cold winter night
without street lamps
When everyone around you
still catches your eye
and sends you a smile
wrapped in praise
How can such a small distance
Seem as uncrossable as a pitch
dark river filled with cast away words
If I tried swimming would I drown
in all my forgotten weaknesses
I keep trying to grab the ropes
thrown to me
But I've grown tired of excuses
and promises
I just want to feel what you feel
as you grab my hand
Was that affection in your eyes
or pity
Could you smile with a bit more feeling please
I can't quite hear it in my heart
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
Tonight as I lay down under these endless skies
There were certain things I’ve come to realize
That it’s already been a year since you first set my heart to veer
Now if I were to tell how our story went
I’d say that from the realm of strangerhood in a Cartesian plane we were sent
Two opposite lines that were bound to intersect
Or at least at that fateful moment, I felt we connect
At that time, stars were aligned
Chains were casted for hearts to bind
And to account for each time our paths have crossed
To our skies a checkered plane is what we have tossed
Forming a constellation of smiles and avoided gaze
Of an illusionary friendship and uncrossable space.
As one side of the hour glass was slowly drained of sand
Consequently, chances were slipping off my hand
For me to get to know the better of you
And for me to show how much you’ve meant to me.
Truly, time is a **** for it screws everyone
It is a monster that pities none
But today, I will let myself be its prey
For I know after the exalted day
Seeing you would be an improbable dream
And someone’s world will surely dim
Tonight, I will let the stars do their job
The empty darkness of the night they will rob
For they will illuminate this verse to you
These last words I’ll offer you.
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 1:05 AM UTC
My city is a 6 block radius, up one street, down the next, with constant orange hands telling you,
“No, don’t cross.”
Don’t cross, don’t ever cross, don’t ever leave these confines.
Because outside, you exist.
Outside these streets, you are a real person. You do real things.
And you miss the days of riding trains aimlessly. Of finding routes with no destination.
And that was okay.
Those days were simple, those streets were real. Those orange hands told you to go ahead anyway. “Cross into the great beyond; whatever is beyond here, it has to be great.”
But there are things here holding you back,
At each corner, there is a gate, holding you back.
At each corner, there is an inkling, telling you “Tomorrow, next week, next month.”
And by next year, you are still standing on the same corner, waiting.
You are waiting to be that real person again.
You are waiting to cross, waiting for that orange hand to wave you by.
But the light never changes, and the hand stands still;
Just like you.
Still like the calm before the storm that swept you here.
And here you are again, at a crossroads uncrossable.
Trying to wade through an asphalt river to the other side, the other unknown.
You just want to feel whole again, but these city blocks are suffocating you, taking you down,
Bit by bit
You are drowning.
My city is a monarch, my city is a queen, my city is a haven.
This is not my city
For my city has skylines and airwaves and breathing room,
My city has people who live and beautiful pathways to explore and discover.
My city lives, and this city is dead.
This city is killing me
Bit by bit
I am drowning.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
Don't inconvenience yourself, please. I'm fine, really. Go about your business, nothing to see here.
Just a girl who feels like her ten mile relationship has become a thousand miles, uncrossable, uncontrollable.
Don't worry, no worries at all to be found here.
Just empty space.
That's all there has been for a while...
...and words can't fill it.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 9:19 AM UTC
Why is it that whenever someone tells me
to speak up about my problems and open up to them,
all of a sudden, they just become this
uncrossable barrier, so difficult to talk to?
Why does it feel like
they never really meant what they told me
when they said,
"I'm here if you need to talk to anyone"?
And for the past few months,
it has been increasingly lonely.
I don't want to disturb anyone
whenever I want to talk to them.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
I had a dream, long ago,
Its visions have faded so,
But here, I will write it thus,
And it shall be my focus.
I dreamt I was in a white place,
That seemed to defy time and space,
I was alone for only a minute,
My only company would be a linnet.
I, at last, had a human companion,
But there would be an uncrossable canyon,
For she held a long knife,
And then I knew, my dream would have strife.
She cut off her finger,
Quite easily, I might add, and it was a dead ringer,
For a movie that I had seen,
Upon that mighty silver screen.
Another girl appeared after a moment,
Like the former had an opponent,
And she, too, did the grisly deed,
And I could only stare, though I tried to plead.
The whole place turned red with blood,
I watched, unmoving, as they moved through it like it was mud,
I wish I could have been able to stop my stare,
And I hope I never go back there.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
Xanax in the blood
screams.
Empty chairs.
Small birds, hopping from here
to there. Waiting for the guests.
Evening sits on the
dirt road.
We look together at the
cracked moon.
The grace of becoming
gray, sweeping the floor
of life. You will wear a different
smile everyday.
The house follows you
wherever you go.Saturn or Mars
will not cast a spell of malfeasance.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
The dark of night
Is even harder to take
When I think back
To the light of the day
The cold of winter
Is colder still
Because I can't forget
The warmth of the summer
When she loved me
And I loved her
And there was nothing
That could stand between
The length of a chasm
Becomes uncrossable
When my mind says
The other side can't be reached
When I've been there before
And lost my way
With no idea
On how to return
When she loved me
And I loved her
And there was nothing
That could stand between
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC