"untaken" poems
Were I to chase the light,
I could never turn back,
not to darkness,
not to shadow,
not to any breath left untaken.
There is no end,
there is no limit.
There are only whispers
lighting flames into my head.
I might never reach it,
but every fallen star
has its own everlasting presence.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
"I love you."
My fingers froze:
dark eyes on a list
as long nails clacked
on gray keys which
stuck with age and use.
I dreamed of love,
sweet hordes of
doves escorting me
to my desire of
love, love, love.
Such dreaming flags
floated in my mind,
wishing to be a hot ***
body made of rag,
a delicious mess
of hearty gags.
I wanted promiscuity,
in all its forms,
shed of all its innuendo
and flimsy disguises.
I wanted hard action,
man on man,
cheap rides and
cheaper thrills.
I wanted to be a little
pornographic princess,
a tiny-dicked seductress,
big ***** conductress
of all his passions.
My flag flew up as a
hormonal reaction,
attraction,
smooth bodied and
tight lipped action
running up and down
my jaded cadaver.
He wanted a **** *****
a promiscuous witch,
casting love spells and
**** glances to make him
itch.
He entered my love nest,
the back seat of a car,
to destroy my frame,
to rid me of my childishness.
My folly melted away
in sexyhot sways
of my hips as
my lips would say
lust filled nothings
that would be filled by
empty sighs and
****** filled
"I love you's."
My fingers froze:
as brown turned to white,
my body turned to snow
and rained down around
his swollen flagpole.
He was incompetent,
inept at the deed
and unable to satisfy,
but it was my ego that needed
this gratification, not my
libido.
I laid in the aftermath of the attack,
calm,
demure,
sad but
ultimately relieved
Finally,
I am ravaged.
I have soiled my nation
and salted my own fields,
laying waste to my youth,
my innocence.
I wanted to be conquered
and so did I receive,
being taken and
yet somewhat untaken.
I remember his voice,
that dumb accent.
I remember his preconceptions
of what this was supposed to be.
"I love you."
My fingers froze:
as lungs filled with air,
and brain filled with contempt,
my jaded body grew
to desire--
God, I really wish I had a cigarette.
I remember how he thought
I cared,
how he though that
anybody did.
I remember how,
I thought I had, too.
"I love you."
No, you don't.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
”against your will were you created,
against your will were you born,
against your will do you live,
against your will will you die, and
against your will will you stand in judgment before the
King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He.”
Rabbi Elazar HaKappar (C.170 - C.200 CE)
(Ha Kappar: the one who made and gave atonement)
<§>
***in these, the years of my erosive declination,
when the noble prize, time for introspection,
once was a chore of delaying, now no longer can be off-put,
the certainties of Elazar, offer guidable satisfactions***
***the nighttime review, resurrecting my life, the gaps,
the untaken actions, those dream-schemes speak loudest,
memories of what should have been, are a litany of what ifs,
prosecutorial accusations of crass wastage***
***against my will, the charges brought,
against my will, plead guiltily my innocence,
against my will, knowingly, time’s erasure judgment,
secures my fate, all the granular cells causal dissipation***
***my warped willingness to be a coward,
it was my meditative, to natural be the lesser man,
choosing the safety premise, the road most oft trod,
the addition of my meager totality, willing given***
Even if all these land mine/roadblocks
and summary judgements are against my will,
willingly do I confess, in all innocence, my guilt,
“if it be my will”
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 2:45 PM UTC
There is a greatness in your form
The way you carry yourself around
Like you're the beginning
And the end
Of every sentence.
There is a cruelty in your eyes
And how they cut me down
Around every corner
And under all the moons and suns
We've seen together.
There is a kindness to your body
Like it has covered all it's bruises
And learned from its mistake
Of trusting you with it.
And there is ****** on your lips
When they join with mine
And I feel my life ending
With every untaken breath.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 10:16 AM UTC
Shopworn covers, brittle pages,
faded, handled carelessly -
dime-store dreams locked up for ages
in the musty library.
Risks untaken, words unspoken
stacked in cornered memories
beside the shelves that hold the broken
spines of bound-up fantasies.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
Shopworn covers, brittle pages,
faded, handled carelessly -
dime-store dreams locked up for ages
in the musty library.
Risks untaken, words unspoken
stacked in cornered memories
beside the shelves that hold the broken
spines of bound-up fantasies.
Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 5:01 PM UTC
Within walls the humdrum echoes
footsteps magnify into monsters
so do journeys untaken, unplanned.
Step by step conquest is mastered
in real motion forward
mountains climbed
distances measured with hard muscle
counted in steps -one by one.
Nothing impossible
to the journeyman
No yardsticks to measure success
even God is a step closer.
Meditate dreams in sequence
until nirvana nears
at the journeys end
and reincarnations materialise
step by step.
Walking on the wild side
lengthens the shadows of darkness
until we fail to see the light
that will lead us back to the beginning
to the first step from where we started.
Step by step
in rhythm with the heartbeat
we all work through life
and onwards into eternity.
Author Notes
Step by Step. ' He who wants to walk the whole world must take his first step'
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
I trudge my sled on through the snow,
I pull it another mile
This journey takes a day and forever,
I'm only just a child
I began this long ago,
But the end is nowhere near
So much hope I've come across,
But not as much as fear
I come to find a crossroad,
Not the only one today,
The roads stretch for miles on,
And on the pavement my choices lay
I know once I choose,
There is no going back
And good judgment, God help,
Is something that I lack
So I throw the dice,
And hope for the best
And leave it to the Devil
To decide the rest
So, on I go,
Down this new road
And on my back,
A brand new load
Of hopes and worries
And things to desire
Of haters and lovers
And a world full of liars
But I can't help but wonder
About the path untaken
If it's forever gone,
And then my thoughts awaken
If I had taken that road
That is so long gone
Could it have taken me
To a beautiful dawn
Or would it lead me
To a forest of thorns
With great, tall beasts
With blood-soaked horns
Or maybe to a place
That's never been found
A place without color,
A place without sound
I suppose I'll never know
Where that barren path led
So I'll keep along this one,
To the horizon, I'll tread
Until I come across a ditch,
Or another fork in the path
I know this journey is long
And I won't get out unscathed
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
Laying in the canopy of trees,
Among lush, green branches,
Stretching in quiet addiction.
Offering hundreds of leaves
As an endless sacrifice
Up to the infinite
Ending with a vast void
Full of solace.
Mystery.
Silence.
Finally, the god sighs.
Blinks.
The offering untaken.
The request recycled.
The plea granted.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:44 PM UTC
Screaming ***** & Volumes of joys ungiven
An uneasy joint & The Waste made to happen
For lost Hedon & pleasures untaken.
...
So,
You, are a high one free of those burdens
A woman of the real and true garden of Eden.
Call me then, and if in Eros you're a brethren,
I'll find a quick way out of the shackles of this den.
Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 4:45 AM UTC
At the end of my day, looking out my window,
I reflect on the things I did, the friends I met, the thoughts I had.
I regret only what I regret, leaving out so much I could have lived but I didn't.
So many feelings conveniently ignored to make ground for a reflexive and inane life.
So many opportunities neglected and that remained invisible to me.
So much existence trimmed down or that passed by my side in silence –
I was too distracted with nothing and everything to reach out and ****** it and live it.
I’m happy nonetheless, for I realize that life is indeed a show of middling experiences
That arbitrarily builds up or into greatness or into commonness.
It’s the patchiness, the randomness of life that makes it wonderful and lovely.
It’s life untaken by contemplation that flows and grows into something special.
We think too much, for nothing!
Nature doesn’t need your help to follow its course.
You are and you will always be the greatest obstacle along your own path.
Bring down your guard and unwind your mind.
Try to be like the minute sparrow intuitively carrying a twig to its nest.
Let the wind blow, let the sun shine, let the grass grow.
I believe in a world that I can see, unfiltered by concepts,
That is touchable and is untainted by the mind.
To think is to destroy things – that’s the sole sake of thought!
I believe in a world that is solid, eatable, drinkable, and can be sensed by the skin.
I believe in a world that can be heard, and pushed, and slapped, and squeezed.
I believe in a world that is uncertain, but that is real.
Don’t come to me with your romantic and impractical ideas that are hazy and shapeless,
That require my gullible imagination, my complicity, and a speck of idiocy, to survive.
I want to stay authentic. Please, let me stay ignorant and authentic!
My feelings are my thoughts (they are my only thoughts).
I have feelings as a flower has scent and colors.
I don’t want to think about the world. I don’t want to understand it.
I want to be a part of it. (To be we don’t need to think.)
I just want to love the world and accept it.
I want to love it, but I don’t want to know why I love it, nor what it is I love.
I want to love it for love’s sake.
I want to love it with childlike innocence.
Love is always uncomplicated. Remember this,
Love is always uncomplicated.
Calmly, as the oak tree I see in my garden,
I pull back from my window sill and go back to my life,
To my pointless life, my careless life, my foolish life,
So filled with simplicity, truth, and beauty.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
His world caved in
What he so eagerly
Tried to keep stable
His happiness was dimising
As the weight of the world
Held him down
He could not get up
His claustrophobia set
His breathing got shorter
He screams to the world
For modest help
But silence is returned
Untaken by the narssasistic
world, who only care of their own
Walk past a man who needeth help.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
so many years behind us
so many that we've missed
spent in company of others
while dreaming of a tryst
our pasts have helped to shape us
and bring us to this day
destined to find each other
as if meant to be this way
just one step remains untaken
perhaps too scared to take a chance?
so as the orchestra of fate warms up
tell me, may I have this dance?
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 10:34 PM UTC
The golden orb of sunrise as it breaks the horizon....
The new fragile sprouts on my plumeria...
The fuzzy baby peaches growing. ..
The sweltering heat of the day...
I think of you.....
As I shower with water beading off of me...
As I pass places we once were...
Another song on the radio. ..
As I make plans for the day...
I think of you....
The sunlight in my grey eyes...
The wind in my hair....
The untaken path...
The rustle of leaves....
I think of you....
The purpling sky...
The fiery setting sun....
The blackest nights....
Under a smattering of a million sparkling stars...
I think of you....
I share these with you in unspoken thoughts....
I ache for you in everything that I do...
The simplest of joys...
Unable to be....
I think of you.....
E.J.M.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC
nature in nature out
frozen in rooms of pink
castles ignored
fairies without fairy dust
spring cleaning prophets
take down memories
faded wrinkled corners
hugging each other
sealing secrets
aligned to symmetries
choices untaken
disciplines forced
age has no reason
take down from pastels
store in archives
remember.
wall flowers?
us reaching across cultures
to embrace newness
tomorrows happiness
taken today.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 days ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11694338-Wallpaper-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.TW8o0AaA.dpuf
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
.
Sun startles the lovers who lie,
Crammed in a single bed.
Once the sun blanketed doves,
Each day a wrap for godlings
And the night was a sea of hope
For the lonely, lost, drowning.
Now the morning is a shroud
That eyes shy away from it,
They look for each other—
Out windows murky into day,
But night never really leaves,
The untouched skin breaking,
The unshared fade of breaths
Untaken, unwound fingers,
Trapped in open rooms
And light revealing,
Cold uncovered,
Lovers in morning.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
will talk to you tomorrow
she says
the next day begins
with no moment to laze
my pings of "hi"s
have become pangs with sighs
and shes been too busy
to take notice of my craze
one more day. one more night
i keep counting untaken breaths
awaiting her voice and sharp gaze
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
I'm not a person to you,
my subtleties are lost in a constellation of tally marks,
the strikes against me in your mental map of our universe.
My buttons can’t be hidden from you you’re the one
who tied them so loosely to the cuffs of my sleeves
and the bulk of my 20 cent words form the change in the linings of your pockets,
where my hands used to be.
The pads of your fingers find the freckles on the nape of my neck but the worn feeling of you thumb prints against my pulse reminds me
the pigmentation is no longer cute to you
just another imperfection for the list..
which is running through the front of my brain
like your hands used to run through the creases
of my smile.
It’s the poetry to the empty screen your face used to fill
that reminds me some pills are better off untaken,
and that sometimes empty yellow bottles are filled with the hope that is left behind by the promise
that sickness requires it to be refilled again.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
Let this night my silence seem as one with cricket and with woodland owl
and let my ache of you be one with coyote and with wolves mournful howl
that I by lake and flowing stream could er' compare my flowing tears
as I watch in plaintiff awe as moonlight so softly disappears
for what am I if I am not a part of you and hence apart from you
I too liken of the forest elm and oak bear arms untaken too
so let this night in silent reverie give up but a whisper of hope
as I from beneath your window sigh and to the darkness now elope
for love unrequited stings the heart a double edge
as I my heart though poor it is to your heart pledge
no man er' knew such need and want as I do here
awaiting a chance to love you dear.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 7:18 AM UTC
We all think there will be more of it -
A better time to say how you feel,
Or let someone into your life.
We live in a world of “somedays” -
One days and eventualities
Living life on hold without even noticing.
Don’t wait until you’re holding on for dear life -
Wishing for the unspoken to be said,
Regretting your untaken opportunities
And screaming at the sky:
“Hey! Do you sell time?”
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC
Sun startles the lovers who lie,
Crammed in a single bed.
Once the sun blanketed doves,
Each day a wrap for godlings
And the night was a sea of hope
For the lonely, lost, drowning.
Now the morning is a shroud
That eyes shy away from it,
They look for each other—
Out windows murky into day,
But night never really leaves,
The untouched skin breaking,
The unshared fade of breaths
Untaken, unwound fingers,
Trapped in open rooms
And light revealing,
Cold uncovered,
Lovers in morning.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:10 PM UTC
I make my way out of my warm and cosy home,
Walking towards a park so near
The chilling and sobering wind,
Brushing against my face
I hear the grass crunch beneath my shoes,
The hushed whisper of people conversing
I feel at peace and harmony with all,
I reach a bench empty and untaken
I sit and breathe in fresh air,
Staring at the ripples made in the river before me
Ripples created by ducks and swans,
I observe adults walking from work and children waddling from school
I seem to pay no attention to them,
In a world of my own I am in
I drift into a short sleep as the sun sets,
Who knows if it shall rise again
When I open my eyes.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 2:46 PM UTC