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Àŧùl Apr 1
Hello Stranger,
Done with the Roka,
It's a pre-engagement ceremony,
But right now,
I don't know what I am for you.

Next will be our engagement,
Then I'll be your fiancé,
And you'll be my fiancée,
But right now,
I don’t know what you are for me.

After that we'll have our marriage,
Then you'll be my Dharmik wife,
And I'll be your Sworn husband,
But right now,
We're strangers for each other.

Let's make it easy,
Let's share with each other
Our likes, and the dislikes too,
Let's be friends until we wait,
Let's get to know each other.

You know about my weaknesses,
It's apparent and obvious,
But behold, I descend into your life,
I have my shortcomings,
But I have my gifts too.

You'll see me spreading joy in your world,
And you'll realise that your world is mine too,
But don't worry,
Just let my love grow in your heart,
Next I'll plant a ring in your finger.

That ring will mark you as mine,
You'll put a ring around my finger too,
And this particular ring will mark me as yours,
We'll be each other's fiancée & fiancé,
I'll make sure that you are fine.

A few weeks after that engagement,
We'll sit in front of the Holy Fire,
And that fire will be our witness,
And so will be the Àgnì Ðévà,
The God of Fire will seal our togetherment.

Right now you're cautious,
Maybe a bit scared too,
You are in the dark,
But so am I, dear,
Don't worry, I won't disappoint you.

And I know that me you won't dishearten,
We'll gel well beyond the physical realm,
The world will soon see us as one unit,
We'll enjoy each day in togetherness,
And it will no longer be an untitled relationship.
My HP Poem #1961
©Atul Kaushal
Nat Lipstadt Feb 6
Upon appearance of an untitled poem with no body in my Drafts
<>
never have I ever
written an untitled poem,
nor painted a human sans
a head;  arms, legs, o.k., but,
but when the purging urging
enwraps me at 12:22 in the AM,
i cannot birth my babies
stillborn,
unnamed, forlorn,
it’s every breath would be
an accusation, of breach, malfeasance,
a child nameless, is the worst of all orphans,

the poem’s title is its inner essence, a preface,
a forward, and epilogue, just as your names is
both begin and end, a hint of who you are and from
whence you came, and where you are bound to be bound,
it is your birth name, and final resting place, a hint of who you
we’re, ared destined to become, to be, and to come,
an entitlement!

ah you curse or bless, thy given name, no longer do
you examine it, write it repeatedly, to despise or admire
the sounds of it exiting thy mouth, a roomful of teeth
and tongue in concert cooperating and conniving, silky
hissing your who-you-are-ness, you, who are poem, exist not,
cannot be, without your entitlement; ah you pause and say
to the sleeping woman who neither hears nor cares,
who am I, who I am, and the differences
entre deux
that are my
character

yes, a untitled poem is forever
unwished, unfinished
unwashed?
and to eternity, forever lost,
unsigned, unconsigned,
unfortunate
unconsummated
finis @2:52Am
2-5-2024
lucidwaking May 2022
Passion flows from the pen.
Lines race through the mind
In a feverish fervor.
Such a noble piece deserves a remarkable title -
Something unique,
Innovative,
Never been done before...

"Untitled."
Showing 1 to 20 of a 1,000 search results.

Oh to be the young, Untitled poet.
They live in a world of dreamy wonder.
It takes an earnest naivete to believe
That the three stanzas, freshly written
Are beyond the need for a name.
How can words so profound be labeled?
To name the art would do it a disservice,
Surely.

However, do not frown on the Untitled poet.
No one is born with
A sophisticated understanding of the thesaurus.
Indeed, you were once a starry-eyed artist,
As was I.
We all need our time to bake,
Letting our edges singe and crisp.
In due time, they'll look back on their journey
And take note of how they've grown.
After all,
How can you call yourself a writer
If you don't hate your old work?
Janay Feb 2022
Be obedient to your love and peace
Don’t pretend
Don’t deny
Don’t rush
sometimes
The process needs to be readjusted
And
That’s ok.
In the beginning it’s rough
We look forward to the ending but fear the
Loss of what could be
Ashanti Aug 2021
Some of the best things are untitled
#untitled
neth jones Jun 2021
110
I enter a voiceless Forrest
quiet
           as after ******

it awaits a wind
                     to disturb
its brooks
          to run full babble
and the creatures
                 to muster bravery
and reveal themselves

Caught unawares
I feel I may have embarrassed it
I shall return later for my walk
Evelyn Ann Apr 2021
Its is long overdue
We have already wasted enough time

We have carried this weight, these baggage and so much emotional turmoil, for too long, it blinds us and hinders us

Making us uncomfortable, unacceptable, unable to grow, unable to see what needs to be removed from our lives and unable to overcome obstacles

But I am too afraid....

No, we are afraid to remove such a blindfold and such a hindrance

It seem almost impossible
Because these are things that I....

No, these are the things we treasurer the most.
mc Apr 2021
i sat alone and waited for the sun to come up
i never did like mornings
but it's not really morning; i never closed my eyes once
instead, i stayed awake through the night
and paced until i wore down the rug
this youth is full of endless nights
and praying for the kinds of highs i only find when i'm drunk

i sat alone in the back of my car
with nobody in the front seat
i left the keys out on the hood
hoping for someone to come save me from me
i waited in the parking lot until it got empty dark
the night is one big endless sky
and imagining what it's like to die alone in my neighborhood park

i sat alone at the edge of the creek
clinging to my own shaking hands
the water ran over my feet and we moved together like it was a dance
i fell asleep in a bed of reeds in the late afternoon
and dreamed of catching fireflies
and running towards blue headlights
and swallowing the moon
rough draft
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