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Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2018
I love you so ******* much
I'm sorry it does not always show
Believe me when I tell you your touch
Means more than you will ever know
A love text
Delaney Marie Oct 2013
You
You,
such a tiny word.
A pronoun unpronounced by those who only know your first name,
those who don’t care to learn what you’ve been through,
those who haven’t felt the salty tears your beautiful brown eyes have become accustomed to,
those who don’t know things that I do.
All because I yearn for...

You,
the inspiration to my inspirations,
the reason my smile seems to never fade,
the missing piece to the puzzled mess of a life I’ve been living,
the gift that keeps on giving and it’s Christmas everyday,
the one person I’d give the planet to if God gave me the chance.
All because my world already revolves around...

You,
making the word me seem so small in comparison,
making my favorite way to look, looking into your eyes,
making my lips quiver your name in hopes that you’ll fall in love with the sound,
making sparks fly with every day of passion in view.
All because you make it impossible to love another human being the way that I love...

You.
sobroquet Oct 2013
The most apparent thing
in her story though unpronounced
is as her life unfurled
she very rarely smiled

she possessed a reticence
a solemnity before her years
a maturation process
that involved too many tears

And so this Doctor  she became
empathic and sensitive
a healer of the lame
configured by experience
to be of assistance to the same
A fictitious poem about a  Lady Doctor  that in reality, saved my life.
chris m Aug 2014
Catch yourself wandering though memories
Shades of maroon and purple panging and banging demanding commanding your gut and your dreams at night

Burn it
ashes/ashes                                                            ­                                                  
the moment unpronounced
a blessing and a curse
bouncing in and around your mothers regrets- ashes
reminding you that there are some things you’ll never know
some things you’ll never forget
lips parted and toenails painted
a whole life
one’s existence unmarked by your
conscious/subconscious                                                                ­                        
Vacations and children and mortgages and dreams and ashes
late nights on phones calling long distance to
men/women/lovers/friends                                                          ­                      
and people you’ll never meet
people you’ll never speak to

Heartbreak is an abandonment of trust
a mouthful of ash
but it’s only the first step in forgetting a life
and leaving the dream
leaving the castle crumbling real fast
the castle built but past
satisfied with the obliteration of
one name/one face/one forgotten                                                        ­                
at last
CAMP Prompt: Write about the moment you forget someone
mads Aug 2013
For some
Unknown,
Unpronounced
Reason, I have always
Wanted to say,
"What do you want from me"
In conversation.
But I've been thinking,
And it's been a while,
Why would I ever
Need to stutter such a sentence
When no one has ever wanted me
Or even grasped the idea
Of needing me.
Wednesday afternoon, 5:43pm and I'm wasting away.
Taru Marcellus May 2014
How was your day?

                                       it was a day....except




this kid in the last row of class
shrouded in his own personal forest fire
actually took the time to cool into his seat

he settled down like a tree stump
as he listened to the murmuring of roots
                      y = ax^2 + bx +c

how could he not be captivated
in this wasteland for numbers and adolescent brains
how could he not be cultivated
                       this is my job

for the first time
he raises his hand with answers unpronounced
stumbling through parentheses
   as if they were brackets holding him together
               it is harder than it looks

he approaches the board
   -paper in hand
      and turns to face his audience

****! * it's a lot of people in here

I later ask him, when was the last time you went to the board
he says * never
It's the little victories that count
Heather Moon Mar 2016
Holy Larkspur and Loons
Goddesses of Jupiter Moons
Ancient Sunshine dancing
With curvy golden swirls of fire,
Remember that sunshine figurine so clear
As though dangling from a crib,
And you a soft sweet child
Reaching up for it?

I know you know
That of which I speak,
It’s part of the dream,
The dream we share,
The same dreams which are woven
into the souls
Of mankind.
A Cupid’s Cathedral awaits,
As Castaways journey to the shores of distant lands
Some left wrecked by the Sea
The great and open mystery
And all the unpronounced twinkling's in time
That we taste and try to place,
Metaphors of grand complexion cannot place
The distant speck
But I know you know
That these stories are crafted so delicately
Hand sewn with needle and thread
Into the patchwork makeup of our souls.
Perhaps too much wine and passion to place into the boxes of words
Carolina Feb 2020
I love you so much.
Im sorry it doesn't always show.
Im sorry I can't always express it.
Believe me when I tell you,
Your touch means more to me,
Then you will ever know.
Michael W Noland May 2013
Meet me in a dream, and sing to me as i sleep.
Wake me in the morning, to indented sheets.
Always keep the words, blurred and unpronounced.
Dangling in my head, tingling to come out.
I'm not the only one, that knows what you're about.
But I'm the only one who knows you now.
Eloisa Aguirre Apr 2019
I am looking at the absence of you
Unpronounced recollection of sounds

You appear to be gone
But I am looking right at you
Found this poem in my old notebook
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2017
Beyond my consciousness,
  in stark relief

A place beyond reason,
  all spirits unleash

Beyond my awareness,
  I inherit the wind

Each breath I blow inward,
  new endings begin

Religion, a concept,
  that God can’t abide

Dogma a pretense,
  where idolaters hide

In my dreams there’s a voice,
  that comes unannounced

Its structure on fire,
  new words unpronounced

Time but a weapon,
  to use on the weak

Its measuring stick,
  to never complete

One question—one answer,
  for all that transpires

In primacy wrapped,
  no logic hard wired

The years I’d spent looking,
  those moments I’d waste

When deep from inside,
  with subliminal grace

The great Crazy Horse calls,
  chanting words once unknown

“Your vision has freed you
—its voice now your own”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

— The End —