What to Do with These Untitled Verses
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What to Do with These Untitled Verses

untitled verses

I love jotting down words, arrange them in lines and eventually make some sort of poetry - my own. Many of these poems were composed of two or more verses and they all have appropriate titles in them. But the ones that were written with just a single verse or two, remained untitled to this day. I have started this practice of scribbling down my thoughts on any piece of paper more than twenty years ago, which seems like a whole lifetime away from me.


I write, I jot, I compose

a poem, a verse, a simple prose;

about colors, about nature, about love,

about the beautiful things that are sent from above.”


So what do I do with these short verses? I just thought I might share them here as they're not that many compared to the titled ones.

Looking back, life seemed so fresh and simple from the eyes of a 12-year-old girl like me. These are some of those musings from that long ago:


“I'll love the sea, I'll love the sky,

I'll love the trees and the birds that fly.

I'll love the pastures, the rocky mountain high,

and the little things till the day I die.”


“I am soaring high

and up in the blue I fly,

My dreams up in the sky

is to be the person am I.”


“I reached out toward the stars

I needed to explore the endless universe.

Time stood still.

The stars reached out towards me,

I needed the comfort.

The universe became an endless fantasy,

Reality became a dream.

My dreams came true.”


As the years turn the pages of my life, the simple joys remained and were made more meaningful by the difficulties and pains encountered with each failures and challenges. The memories, however, were suspended in some pieces of paper where the words poignantly retells the emotions from each moment.


I looked up and what I saw

was a tree so tall

it left me small.

I couldn't breath.

I thought I'm gone …

for good, for bad …

for whatever.

The tree so tall,

it laughed at me

and there was I,

so small and smaller and gone.


The clock, tic-toc, tic-toc it went.

The day and night, they pass and …

where am I?

I go, I go, I go,

but I don't tic-toc as I go.

I'm not a clock.

what am I?

My days and nights they went by.

what have I done?

My life, my life, it comes, it goes

like tic-toc, tic-toc of the clock.

what do I know?



man, woman

girl, boy

standing, walking, strolling

along life's highway.

No words – no talking, no listening

miscommunication, misunderstanding.

Man, woman

girl, boy

standing still like stones

cold, hard, calculating,

indifferent, aloof,

full of reservations.

Aren't we all?


Be there rainbows, be there light,

be there happiness, be there joy and love.

Whatever's out there …

I couldn't see them.

For whatever's out there …

my life is bare.

My life is dark,

no more rainbows, no more joy,

no more light.

So let there be …

What else could be there?

Be there twilight instead!


And the best inspiration for writing would be love - romantic love, young love, all sorts of feelings of love. Love at some point could be a blessing, such bliss while it lasted. And love when it ended, was too painful to verbalize, it can only be written, yet even words fail to depict its sorrows sometimes. There is no wonder then why more poems were written about a love ending than when it is just beginning.


“Morning breaks and the fingers of dawn appear.

The last starlight faded from view,

the moon gave a last glance,

the early sun said, “Hello.”

I opened my eyes,

I saw your face, I smiled.

The sun gave a smile,

I gave a smile.

The whole world smiled.”


Color me in black and white

color me in red and white

color me in blue and white

color me with love.

These colors show your love for me.

you colored me,

and now I know.

You colored me in gray?




No? I thought …

I walked, you walked,

you held my hand

I didn't mind

because you seldom do.

We walked, I held your hand,

you minded

because I always do.

The world was ours,

now it isn't.

I wonder,

what made the difference?


“From where I stand

is a hidden place.

My body longs for rest

and couldn't wait

for the day when

it will be lying down

in a place

that's hidden.”


These are some verses that remained untitled. Why? I do not know. For some reason, I want them to stay that way - untitled, hanging verses, rhymes, no rhymes, makes sense, may not.

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Comments (5)

I think they are lovely with or without a title

these are very nice and lovely sentiments.

Sometimes you don't need titles. Some of my best poetry came from riding in a bus or just sitting under a tree... when the words come to you, it just flows like a river.. which I'm sure you understand. I've written over ten thousand lyrics... many which I had a hard time choosing a title. Good job, and good work.

Simply Poet

you have an awesome collection of poetry

do check out


Login and post so that people can appreciate your wonderful verse and get to know that poets like you are still there and blogging !!

Also have a look at what other poet's are upto!!


Simply Poet

Very pleasant.