Until last week, it had been since before Thanksgiving that I’d submitted poems anywhere. I’d received more than 10 rejections in that time, and well, I’m human–so I was a little down. Decided to submit some poems this month and over the weekend received an acceptance of not one but five poems all at once! Anyway, it just goes to show the importance of perseverance–all writers need a little; it’s just something that should be said.
For today’s prompt, write a poem of what goes unsaid. Maybe it’s unrequited love, a hidden contempt, spoiler to the most recent TV show or blockbuster movie. Whatever goes unsaid, maybe write it instead.
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*****
Here’s my attempt at a What Goes Unsaid poem:
“haiku”
poem on sidewalk
washes away
with april showers
*****
Robert Lee Brewer has been trying to put the final touches on his second poetry collection, so of course, he’s been writing several poems for the third collection (because he knows how to procrastinate in a productive manner). Anyway, it’s been an exciting April so far.
Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community, which means he gets to do a million things to help writers find more success with their writing (including this blog). He’s also the author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53).
Connect with him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.
*****
Find more poetic posts here:
- Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 347.
- Michael Dylan Welch: Poet Interview.
- The Many Faces of Persona Poems.
What goes unsaid
how could you?
I do not under
stand how the
mutual adoration
we held for each
other – “inviolate”
you said –
how could you
change – I think
that somehow
you, my golden
boy, my grand
independent
loving man,
do not know
how you have
violated-cored
the center of
my soul – until
my confidence
in continuance
in the legacy of
of my life – lays
shaken -shattered
shards of my rosy
glasses torn from
my eyes – flung by
you to the ground
spraying tiny
silvers from
your grinding
heel sticking in
my shrinking soul
as you turn away –
again and again
and return
to reviolate
the inviolate
once again –
until, my son
l almost
almost –
no longer
believe
in happy
endings –
WHAT MUST GO UNSAID
It is hard to believe, she thinks,
the amount of time that just
evaporates
and is gone without her noticing,
without anything changing
Or maybe everything changing
but again, without her noticing.
Will come a day when, as if coming to
after being deeply unconscious
She will realize how much older she is,
how different the light appears,
how much life she’s missed
Hers, theirs – those of the ones
she loves, but has lost somehow
and has not been able to speak
without dissolving.
She is more inclined to shut
down completely then think
about those of whom she
must not speak
Those of whom she should
not think
Those of whom she cannot
bear to love.
The Things Left Unsaid
We bite our tongues
And purse our lips
We might even put our hands on our hips
But, we don’t dare say the thing our fears betray
We teeter on the edge of sanity
Eggshells beneath our feet
The things left unsaid
Are waiting to bleat
Their way out
Words
Words are spoken
and written
and some
if we are lucky
are left unsaid.
Words,
words have an edge
to them
which can lacerate,
creating
unseen wounds.
Leaving
unhealed marks
visible
only to the soul
of the wounded.
Words.
Some are better
when left unsaid.
Under the surface
By Debbie Cerrito
Dark water ripples
Secrets escape sunlight rays
Deep rivers below
UNSAID
his face droops on the right
though he doesn’t know it
he hasn’t looked in the mirror
for over a year
of course, when he cocks his head,
as he often does,
staring at the world from a
permanent 2 o’clock tilt
the waterfall of features
is less noticeable
the slope of his eyes and mouth,
melting like Dali’s clocks
seem to disappear in some
off-center symmetry
as if this change of perspective
could erase the microscopic clot
that cut his hemispheres
right in two
and my father could no longer
right his crooked smile
Copyright Kimiko Martinez 2016
Memento Mori
We sip our coffees and talk and talk,
Confiding our small stories.
It feels like courting, consorting,
These little offertories.
Given with a certain look,
A smile or frown of understanding,
Encouragement, that I mistook
For something more beguiling.
His hand reaches out to lift his cup,
And on his hand as it comes up,
I see my heart’s memento morii
Better Left Unsaid
If looks could kill,
You’d be a dead man , my love,
Because I know what should never be said,
Should never, ever be said.
Since i dont have any super powers,
You are here, as always,
Loved and hated in the same breath.
Can i explain that?
Nope.
Definitely left unsaid.
4/20/16
What’s Left Unsaid
An open sore pains and pusses,
It oozes and hurts,
But left alone it often closes over
And seems to heal.
Yet appearances deceive;
Inside it festers, and before long
You find yourself picking at the scab
Until the initial sore is
Much more serious than before,
Perhaps even
Deadly.
Catherine Conley
crcreateaday.wordpress.com
Delicate raindrops cling
like tears unshed
a voice never heard
cygnet’s wings unfurl
Work in progress, posting a day late due to unavoidable circumstances. Normative free verse, four word count per line…
of what goes unsaid
I would take all
of the harshness back
and leave the romance…
Constantly my thoughts turn
to what went unsaid.
It comes on during
a cool long midnight
swirling over and over
in a strange disconnect
between reality and melancholia.
Thoughts (a siren’s song)
which call you back
into my lonely arms,
beside these serious shadows.
You’ve gone too far
away… for time infinitum.
There are no inner truths
left inside to tell,
love of my life.
Dreams of the future
recall what’s been unsaid;
those targets I missed
by swift passing time.
Take it all back.
Get a do-over.
But not a chance
to tell you everything
or to change anything-
no, not ever again.
I delve deep thinking
of what goes unsaid
except in the hallowed
shadows of long midnights
when thoughts swirl incessantly
of chapels and vows
of rain and unbrellas
of you and me…
Clean Whistle
I communicated to you, after we showered,
that we need almond milk, butter, jasmine
rice and bananas.
My day reels with people
like movie credits.
You get home.
I don’t see the red recycled bag.
“Didn’t get a chance to stop at the store, babe?”
I didn’t know we needed anything, you say.
Oh
I forgot to crank up the volume
in my words
again.
Maybe they whirled down the drain
and met up with the wild cherry
blossom shampoo.
Silence
What was left when you disappeared…
What remained when I asked why…
What hung deep and heavy between
us for months…
What was on my phone that
never rang…
To this day …
I still do not
Understand…
Copyright © 2016 Annie Original Poetry
Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
As Ever, Annie
THERAPY
Sometimes I write poetry
to stem the flow of anger,
unspoken, swallowed whole,
burning like coals
in the pit of my gut.
The pace and phrasing
give me pause,
and I heal in ways
unexpected,
I no longer feel
rejected.
Star Wars
who is Rey’s father?
it’s blindingly obvious
that it has to be…
Unsaid
Some things are better left unsaid,
as thoughtless words can cut so deep
and turn one’s love to hate instead.
Some things are better left unsaid.
The truth can be a tangled thread,
once stirred cannot go back to sleep.
Some things are better left unsaid,
as thoughtless words can cut so deep.
Revenge is served
I love that it hurts
you when I smile in silence
after you hurt me
-Azma Sheikh
What goes unsaid
behind the closed door
is between you
& your therapist,
your god, & you.
What I say behind
the closed door
to my therapist
is my hopes/dreams
for you & that you
aren’t playing a game
to get through the hour
so you can hide
behind the closed
door to your room.
Light light lightening light
Come spend with me a night
Become my knight
Give me your sight
So that my wings catch a flight
Discovering the wrong and right
Illuminating my inner lamp bright
Light Light lightening light
Come spend with me a night
Become my knight
That left unsaid
By Caroline Hutchinson
The rest of the world
is turning, like carousels
spinning in your dreams
https://carolinehutchinson.wordpress.com/2016/04/21/that-left-unsaid/
Watching Time Pass
Whoa!
Did you see that?
There’s another one!
Duck! It’s flyin’ crazy as a spitball!
There it went—
another great
moment in history.
brought my toys with me
down from that attic
slung over my body
in sacks
little paper airplanes
cars with no engine
action figures without heroes
i carried my toys with me
but i left my childhood
locked away upstairs
in the carpet and wood floors and
sheet rock
even after the sheets
and scars were sanitized
mama asked if i was forgetting
anything.
no.
I never told her all i was leaving
behind
WORDS LEFT UNSAID
Words left unsaid,
All gathered in my head.
Sighs, heavily heard;
For words left unsaid.
By Pamelap
STAR LIGHT STAR BRIGHT
My lifestyle reveals
One foot in the blues
One foot in the grave
Be brave.
First star I see tonight
Will make a secret wish
To get my life set right.
What did the bright star say
This too shall pass your way.
Fugitives
We wore the mosquito summer skies like garments,
gloried sunset colors grading to blue.
Entangled on the tier below the willow tree,
candle wax in pools kept the time
until sometimes the sun came up on our dreaming
and shrugging at the momentary night
we made wishes before we left,
forming other forevers, lying there,
and above, the willow wept.
“Norfolk, Virginia”
The little girl called my name, so
I knelt down again
and stared into sparkling sapphire eyes
as she laughed and jumped and danced
on the kitchen floor
like a spinning top
while dusk’s thick rays poured
through whitewashed blinds
like honey
and I prayed
she could live
without growing up,
or, if that failed,
that at least she wouldn’t lose
her joy.
042016
Strength in Silence
I’ve got the gift of gab; both a blessing
and a curse to me.
So I left a few things unsaid between us,
just as it should be.
If I had really spoken the words
that were truly on my mind,
Only good, and kind, and encouraging ones
would have been left behind.
A piece of my mind was going to be
a gift to you – No fee.
But the chunk I’d planned to give to you
wouldn’t have left much for me.
As if your words in person
were not caustic enough;
Those last two electronic correspondences
made it increasingly tough.
My lips turned in. I held my breath.
I turned the other cheek.
I reminded myself that quiet strength
is what is meant by meek.
And with this thought the right words came.
I knew what I would say.
Nothing. Nothing at all. Things won’t change.
I’ll just walk away.
© April 2016 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
There’s Always a Song
There’s a always a song
Playing in my head
From springsteen
To Dvorak or
The Roots
To Bjork
A radio roulette
Inspired by a word
A time
A smell
Or a moment
And I cherish it
Like a secret lover
Appreciating each beat
With the knowledge it
Could never last
So many tweets were left unsaid
Brilliant words were never read
Chatty texts were never sent
Nothing told that wasn’t meant
I forgot my phone at home
No charming comments or replies
No clever words that sound so wise
No rings and beeps and no voicemail
If someone called I could not tell
I forgot my phone at home
Surprisingly I did survive
In fact I may have even thrived
Lifting eyes up from the screen
With the world I reconvened
I forgot my phone at home
Birthday Greetings
I met the Queen, and wished her well
with many happy returns on her special day—
of course, not on her actual birthday,
but close enough—she had just
turned sixty and I was twenty
(give or take.)
We had all been briefed beforehand in
the proper forms of address should she
stop and speak to one of us while
going on her walk-about
when last the band had played
(not likely!)
So, it caught me well off guard when,
while standing at attention,
she approached and stopped and spoke
(to me!)
“My goodness! You’re a young lady!”
said she, and all that I could muster was,
“Yes Ma’am!”
(Perhaps, this year I’ll send a card.)
The Things We Left Unsaid
by Katie Lyn Branson
The things we left unsaid
are read between the lines
or in the pauses of words
said in a moments confined.
Things said in passionate heat
I know I said them to you
But you didn’t understand them
I will not explain them true.
You can go your way unknown
And I will go mine in pain
I can’t make you know these things
Only frustration remains.
I thought you once understood
these things I pleaded to you
in the silence of the space
It is clear that we are through.
I hope that once the air clears
I’ll explain myself right there
to put our anger aside
and to end our love affair.
What’s said between the unsaid
between the lines of love
it is sometimes left unknown
and I’ve said this all above.
JUST BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T
G. Smith (BMI)
#===#===#===#
I’m up every morning,
Well before dawn;
Feed the dog, get the paper,
Put the coffee pot on.
When it’s ready, she’s up,
And pours a cup of her own,
Without speaking a word,
Like she’s home all alone.
Then I’m off to work,
I tell her, “Have a great day,”
“You, too,” is about
The only thing that she has to say.
I come in from work
Sometimes she’s not there;
I chase the dog down from
His favorite chair.
When she gets in, she’s tired,
And worn out,
And doesn’t want to tell me
What it’s all about.
When I tell her I love her,
She just nods, and may choose,
To respond with just two words,
“You, too.”
Just because she doesn’t say it,
Doesn’t mean it’s not so;
We’ve been together long enough
I guess she thinks that I know.
Sometimes she’s so quiet,
It makes me wonder, even though,
Just because she doesn’t say it,
Doesn’t mean it’s not so.
By nine-thirty its bed time,
She’s asleep before ten,
No “Good night”, no, ” Sleep tight”,
Just quiet again.
If it’s unsaid, is it unheard,
Is it assumed to be so?
I know what I think,
But it’s still good to know.
I get up every morning,
Well before dawn;
Feed the dog, get the paper,
Then the coffee pot on.
What a story! It packs a punch
A Boy In Love
He could never say it aloud
for fear of starting to stammer.
Instead he lived under a cloud,
depressed but ever enamored.
He sat down and composed some verse.
Emboldened by words, he conversed
with his love by baring his soul.
He won her heart, as was his goal.
Messages
He screwed up again.
She doesn’t say a word.
He makes a joke.
She doesn’t laugh or register his presence.
He apologizes, asks for forgiveness.
Without a word, she pours coffee
into their cups, stirs in sugar and watches
the steam rise, removes the spoon,
shakes it twice, and lays it on his hand,
her eyes meeting his.
Bite Your Tongue
I do not call an ass
an ass
lest I find droves—
asses en mass
I do not say just what
I think
since thoughts that are not
red are pink
My Pa said idiots
abound
there in the mirror
one’s been found
what goes unsaid is
likely true
our actions speak
for me and you
Naturalist on a City Sidewalk
gum gumgum gum gum
buttbuttbuttbuttgum flyer
flyer flyer gum
can cancan water bottle
bottle gumgumbutt
I’m cursing in my mind
***
But They Don’t
If thought bubbles rose
above my head for all
to read, I’d stay in trouble.
Without a Word
Without a word, wind whistles up
a sea of grass hissing, a stand of pines
soughing, hardwood leaves rustling
like ladies in taffeta dresses.
How blue the sky that holds
a wedge of geese, a circling hawk,
the flit of songbirds, a waxing moon,
a plane’s glint slicing through cloud.
The scurry of chipmunks, the pillaging
of squirrels, yodel and rivet of woodpeckers,
shuffling leaves beneath the feet of
deer, foxes, coyotes, possums.
Whirr of tree frog, croak of frog,
tweet of bird, scrape of cricket,
humming bee, noiseless patient spider web,
far away a truck motor scraping gears.
Is this the silence I love? Prick of thistle,
dandelion star, greening moss and clover,
sprout and bark, drip and trickle,
surge and rush, life runs to plunge us.
Breathe in and swallow colors colliding,
merged emotions, Mass for moments.
I am moved to say nothing, but to feel all
that life is move like a song in every breath.
What breath-taking images here, Jane. The last stanza awed me.
Unspoken
4/20/16
It is said that fifty-five percent
of all language is telegraphed
in body language.
How much of what you say
is understood by crossed arms,
averted eyes,
and tapping toes?
Be careful your body
doesn’t betray
what you really think.
What We Say Instead
We tiptoe
around I love you
as though it would
kill us
to say it
out loud
instead I say
I love how
wide
your shoulders are
and instead you say
stay.
In few words, you conveyed thoughts so perfectly, Michelle. Wonderful!
Powerful and beautiful and truthful.
I Would Have You Again
I walked away.
You think I never looked back?
I did.
I watched the Caller ID
every
time
you
called.
I almost picked up many times.
There were so many things I wanted to ask…
But I knew the chances of getting truth out of your mouth was as
likely as
unpaid debts to the collection agencies of our youth
getting paid.
We burned each other
and left scars that make modern day tattoos look like
a redheaded boy’s freckles.
Your jagged smile wakes me at night from solid sleep…
I would have you
I would definitely have you
Again.
Gosh, I love this.
Especially: “Your jagged smile wakes me at night from solid sleep…” (wow!)
Thank you
Unsaid
I wrapped up those words
a revolting bundle of remorse
Hollowed out a perfect space
between my ribcage
and the center of earth
And laid it to rest among ruins
of leftover love, irrelevant dreams
A heap of a hurt so offensive
it had to be camouflaged with fiction
and feathered with white lies
To quietly slip into the comfort
of the whole of me
so as not to create a hole
you see
Somethings are better left
unsaid
-Kelli Schmidt-Bultena
Correction:
* Some things are better left
unsaid
-Kelli
camouflaged with fiction
and feathered with white lies
Two stunning lines here, Kelli!
Tides
The ramblings of families
Through sweet summer grass
Winter’s sharp and crystal air
In a darkened looking glass
In passing years I’ve seen you
In the gambol of high tide
I never tried to reach you
Careless penance, heedless pride
In rolls of backwards memories and all that’s left unsaid
In clouds of dust and well-worn rust, the skins that we have shed
In receding waters I hold out my hand
Wind spray and poetry in fine grains of sand
Fading echo voices
In a twilight gold and red
Backyard wars and silent scars
And all that’s left unsaid
Unspoken
Silent hurts
Misplaced dreams
Whys, what-ifs
Secret wants
Inside jokes
I love you’s
Private thoughts
Too often
Left unsaid
Bite Your Tongue
Runaway words
tumble off your tongue
in reckless abandon,
loose,
out of control,
with a complete disregard for consequences.
Runaway words,
tumble off your tongue,
taste bitter regret when eaten,
are better left unleashed,
unsaid,
so bite your tongue.
Lorraine Caramanna
Spot on
How many times have we regretted our words – hard lesson to learn.
In open meadows
where wildflowers grow wildly,
I feel the denseness of You
pressing in on all sides.
You are the sun,
warming my winter skin.
You are the wind,
whipping around me,
enveloping me with the perfume of flowers.
Religion has chased You to the open spaces,
back to the beginning of things.
That thing we leave unsaid
That thing, the one you keep unsaid,
The one we cannot verbalize
Even though we both are aware,
It leaves a widening cleavage
Not meant to be between our souls,
Which in turn further constricts all
We permit ourselves to speak of
Into an ever-smaller space,
Glacially shrunken over years,
In the end still catastrophic.
I.
my new recipe
worse than bad
you ate every bite
II.
twenty years married
there’s not much to say
we still know
III.
clad in black
mourners leave roses
silent widow
IV.
the day dies down
birds circle the feeder
in silence
Concise pictures of how we live. Wonderful words, CB!
Blow out the candles
Silence, or it won’t happen
Unsaid birthday wish
Great little snapshot!
This clam’s
Long foot –
Easily mistaken for a tongue –
Still expresses its will
With a soundless wag.
This whale’s tale –
A slow swimming elegy –
Read silently in water rhythms
And salted rhymes.
Yet you –
So beautiful to watch
In your full-throated glory –
Your fury a Nantucket sleigh ride,
My heart, roiled in the surf,
Sand that sticks in its bifold valves –
Growing one day a pearl for you
Of mute, of perfect anger.