Best Inconclusive Poems
I am being told to let go
By almost everyone I know
Release, let it out, let it be
Plunge into passivity
While I cling to bitter beauty
My bruises bloom a thorny tree
Guarding roses of agony
This pain is mine, it belongs to me
My torment is my blood, it breathes
with every breath, it beats with my heartbeats
Within my tears, it weeps
It shrieks, uncoiled, beneath my skin
Where the sin of suffering begins
It is my fertile fury, my hellish choir
My savage soul, my cathartic fire
It is large and lush and livid
Conquering and vivid
It is too precious, too valuable, to trade away or wallow
in trinkets, or flimsy platitudes, or empty cliches, or hollow
promises of unfulfilling fortresses to follow
Their learned words I dare spurn
For to recover, I must burn
So I will keep it, for I know its worth,
even if their unsolicited, unwarranted, intrusive,
Questioning and questionable, inconclusive
Unadvised advisors do not grant it girth
It is here I find
What I want most
Where rage of kindness blinds
My grieving ghosts.
06/06/20
Entered in 'N/A Rerun 7'
1st Place
It's something inconclusive
This feeling that I'm not
A perfect human specimen
Lukewarm compared to hot
I scrutinise the mirror
That I carry in my phone
It tells me of belonging
Yet I feel so far from home
I probably need rebuilding
Like a human Lego set
A different type of perfect
Is the answer I detect
A voice within me cries out
Don't change a single part
I love you as imperfect
'Cos you're perfect for my heart
Let's work on your perspective
Stand right here just next to me
Now tell yourself through my eyes
Not more perfect could you be
I am being told to let go
By almost everyone I know
Release, let it out, let it be
Plunge into passivity
While I howl to bitter beauty
My bruises bloom a thorny tree
Guarding roses of agony
My pain is mine, it belongs to me
This torment is my blood, it breathes
with every breath, it beats with my heartbeats
Within my tears, it weeps
It shrieks, uncoiled, beneath my skin
Where the sin of suffering begins
It is my fertile fury, my hellish choir
My savage soul, my cathartic fire
It is large and lush and livid
Conquering and vivid
It is too precious, too valuable, to trade away or wallow
in trinkets, or flimsy platitudes, or empty cliches, or hollow
promises of unfulfilling fortresses to follow
Their learned words I dare spurn
For to recover, I must burn
So I will keep this, for I know its worth,
even if their unsolicited, unwarranted, intrusive,
Questioning and questionable, inconclusive
Unadvised advisors do not grant it girth
It is in my pain I find
What I wish most
Where rage of kindness blinds
My grieving ghosts.
5/20/18
The rain didn't fall
last night so much
as it was thrown.
The wind didn't blow
last night so much
as it was whipped.
And a whip is
a thing which
lacerates, it cuts.
The day after
was the last day
and the next days
will be filled with
no more and no longer
until the next days
outnumber the
here-with-us days
and the days after those
days will pile on, unmercifully
as well. The whipwind cuts.
Whippy storm.
Shallow breath.
Dirtied coat.
Abraded eyes.
Right one swollen.
No bowel signs right,
and few on left.
Unwilling to move -
pressed rump-first into
a corner
facing southwest.
Signs of sweat.
"My other horse went this way."
she weakly offers
to the morning air,
to the isn't there,
foreshadowing shadows
and coming despair.
"I wish the doctor would
hurry up and get here."
though we knew he would,
he was, he would be...
soon.
How soon? We didn't know.
- - -
Shaving tummy,
seeking what's beneath,
what is deep.
Ultrasound inconclusive.
Which leads to a conclusion,
the conclusion.
Mommy cooing for hours.
She's brushing him now.
"He's toxic" says doc J.
"It's time." quietly said
to all who already know.
But the spokeness of it is
it's own gift.
The haunting guess brought into
Life, into the moment
into Astro's stall.
- - -
Outside, the crows cried.
The grey winds sucked
warmth.
"You're gonna like where
you'll be." repeated Momma K.
A stroke.
A kiss.
A nuzzle.
A forelock felt.
He thumped down.
Momma started.
We four knelt down,
knowing that but
three would rise.
Syringe after syringe.
Twenty two years.
"His heart's stopped now,"
says Doc
"That's just his diaphragm
tryin' to do its job."
Astro huffs heartily.
- - -
Blankets cover him now,
in a damp paddock.
His bridle off.
At long last.
He is still.
She shakes.
Tears from both.
- - -
The wind won't stop.
He seems to breathe.
It's just the wind
under the blankets.
He really seems to breathe.
- - -
"I learned so much from this horse."
When I die
I give the Pulitzer Board
Permission
To exhume my lyrics
And some overweight ME
Will put my verses on a slab
Going thru my stanzas for tone
looking for assonance and
Consonance in my bones
As my family waits around to see
If i really was a great poet
And they will probe my lines
for cadence
Meter and Trochee
Taking notes
As they dissect
My poetry
They will say I was anemic
On my tercets
And many of my quatrains were forced
As they search for the source
One of the examiners
will write on his tablet
That I never wrote
A Sestina or villanelle
They will note, He was good.
But his books didn't really sell.
The NAACP will close that he didn’t
Represent the Black community
Like King or Rosa Parks
Leaving my legacy a question mark
And no one will be specifically sure
If I advanced the Black Race
Leaving the matter a Cold Case
My kids will ask
But what does all this mean?
Was he really a great poet?
Was he as good as Frost or Hughes
The examiner will stare confused
The autopsy will be intrusive
And they will say:
REPORT INCONCLUSIVE!!
I’d never heard those words before;
Their meanings were elusive.
To those upon the stage, such facts
Were merely inconclusive.
Derivations made it clear
Which letter groups were needed.
Concentration ruled – distractions
Vanished or receded.
Finalists competed with
Such fierce determination,
Anything but winning
Was a sorry consolation.
Yet gamely each one proved to be
Supportive and connected;
Though rivals, they could empathize
When someone was ejected.
I stayed up past eleven
‘Til the battle was concluded,
Delighting in the quiet joy
The champion exuded.
How wonderful that in this hi-tech
World where we are dwelling,
We still admire those rare souls
Who so excel at spelling!
Ilene Bauer (http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com)
Body Language
Is often Inconclusive
Written: by Tom Wright
1/29/2013
Studies have shown that with folded arms,
That we’re either uncomfortable or nervous;
Or we’re in possession of negative thoughts,
And we’re doing the speaker a disservice.
I sit in church, with arms, sometimes folded,
With no intent of other’s thoughts to divert.
But a Pastor’s sermon left me feeling censured,
With folded arms my shoulders just don’t hurt.
I’ve no I-phone so I won’t be caught texting,
Only note taking removes hands from sight.
Before mistakenly thinking the worst of me,
Walk my mile once, and understand my plight.
So do your body language interpretation,
But remember your thoughts concerning me;
Will never have any relevancy in defining,
Today’s man or the man I’ll ultimately be.
“And you may love me like a saint, but you’ll lose faith eventually” – Cut the String, Mother Mother
I’ve got the scissors ready—
Never been one to cut straight,
But let me tell you—I cut just the same!
After all, it helps me breathe, when you’re away
Now I don’t mean that in a horrible sense
Where’s the lines that make it easier to cut?
You learn to go around the edges
In a circular manner,
So not to hurt their pride
Get out of here!
I didn’t sprinkle sugar on your wound
So that you could see how sweet I could maim you
And I don’t expect you to be assured with the truth
Because the truth isn’t always an oxygen tank
Reality is the true gravity
The one that pushes you to the ground
And it will set you straight
It is fun when you duet with your imagined fate
But it’s a slap in the face when you wake up to your own wails
At 4:00 AM
Writhing in unfathomable sorrows
It’s a ceaseless solo of defeat,
And the scissors are so near and dear
It is like I am ready
Armed for the foreseen pain again
Because pains are split moments
And your love is dangerously inconclusive
So I’ve got the scissors ready—
Never been one to cut straight,
But let me tell you—I cut just the same!
I’m ready to breathe when you are…
My poor right boob, has rainbow colours
After a biopsy the doctors had to do
I’m still in pain, but there’s no weeping
I yearn for sleeping
As dreamers do
Sadly for me I can’t get closure
Until my surgery in January
They cannot confirm, if I’ve got cancer
So I await the answer
But I don't feel blue
My poor bruised boobie is
Red and yellow and purple and green and blue and pink and black and painful!!
Ouch!
12-08-17
You may have noticed I’ve not been so active on soup recently…
Last week I had to have 10 mammograms (ouch x10), which detected a mass, and the next day i underwent a vacuum biopsy, (ouch times a million lol) a week later and the results are inconclusive so I need surgery in January to remove the lump and then I can finally get closure… the waiting is the worst part!
I'm not intrusive, thereby save
or inconclusive, there be rave
my thoughts trustworthy merit praise
but on those foul days, Lord be craved!
The mild assumption I discuss
but to oneself, the talking's best
and then decipher what I meant
are these my prayers ~ am I this bent?
A meager soul's sport, not revere
sincerity my only mirror
this new encumbrance must be fear
not to endanger self, must clear!
It is my only value here
a blessed life must engineer
as with God willing, give a cheer
adversity you clown, ram steer!
A cleansing sun rises
at the first light of Dawn.
And a new day provides
a clean slate to write on.
You want to believe love
outlasts eternity.
And yet, you struggle with
pangs of uncertainty.
In dreams, love's a merging;
two hearts sharing one soul.
Yet, it's also known to
levy a heavy toll.
Though relationships form,
love can be elusive.
And its existence is
somewhat inconclusive.
More than an illusion;
love can set your heart free.
But unless you believe,
it just ceases to be.
9/14/17
Televisions getting muted
Signals getting lost or boosted
Meanwhile people hooted
Brooded and continually feuded
Was not one to make my drinks diluted
Made me snooze quick or feel rebooted
Having solutions
Handling problems without saying "Houston"
Already proven
Am only human
Not trying to jeopardize the world, because I don't want to see it ruined
Those that were undisputed
At one point or another, got uprooted
Who are you trying to kid
Hating is all that you did
Making sure, I soon win
And that I doom him(them)
Somewhat reclusive
Yet elusive
Not one to make excuses
Or rely on ruses
If you want to be intrusive
Then in the end, the evidence will be inconclusive
Went with and against the blueprints
How I meant to do it
Am one of the truest
With my music
Some folks scrooges
And others stooges
Grandma wore occasional brooches
Mom said boy stop being foolish
And so stupid
Took some cruises
Throwing up Deuces
Her name was Isabella
She came from New Orleans
Hair as black a raven's back
Eyes of deepest emerald green
Said she was a sorceress
On this she had been weaned
Had no doubt that she was
Exactly whom she seemed
Took my hand , flipped some cards
Then gave me an eerie grin
Felt a chill run up my spine
And a tingling on my skin
Said the futures rather cloudy
As she looked in her crystal ball
The cards are inconclusive
Pronounced with a Cajun drawl
But I have a magic mirror
Tells the truth about your past
All the loves you've had before
And reasons they didn't last
Can take you to the future
Only if you ask it to
For it's a magic mirror
It's magic just for you
Handed me a chalice
Told me to take a drink
To enter this magic mirror
I would have to shrink
Put the chalice to my lips
Then I thought anew
Should I really take a sip
Of this sorceress brew
Held my nose, closed my eyes
Then I took a drink
Felt myself go dizzy
As I began to shrink
Then I saw a rabbit hole
Alice beckoned me to come
Couldn't get my feet to move
For my body it was numb
Then a hand reached out
Pulled me right inside
That's when I really knew
I'm on a magic mirror ride
Almost four-o-clock in the afternoon
and not a single tambourine in sight
you should have jumped over the moon
hours ago, until
secret alien creatures on the surface
said the autopsy was inconclusive
which explains for me why
icicles drip from your heart, as the sun
warms the memory of your embrace, like
moonflowers, gently unfolding at night
reveal the mysteries of love
the bandleader, wearing a feathered pompadour
signals a final formation
somewhere in time
your tune marches into the distance
marches
.......into the distance
01/02/11
No human concept defines me
No human concept binds me
Only God's precept binds me,
as his unconditional Love outlines me
My form is a simple dimension,
of the God of love's comprehension
my soul is the reality of his holy mention,
the subject of human concept's contension
An infinite soul too free to be bound,
for within the love of God I'm found,
free of the poses, of chocolate and roses,
of human concept's superficial poses.
Who am I, a pie in the sky, only a lie,
or the mentioned man of God's plan,
created of Love, my soul shall take flight,
of entergetic light, Adamtine of might
Unbreakable, irreducible, inconclusive,
free of any human concept's conclusion.
Free of all mortal conceptions,
but of the Immaculate regeneration.
By John Moses Freeman