Best Open Ended Poems

The Little Girl's Garden

  A finagle of young fairies with colors red, green, yellow, indigo, white and orange with glittering wings are playing in...

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Please give us a topic, at least just a clue
I have no direction, don't know what to do
Do I scribe what I know, or write...

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Well, I see that Congress is proposin' another trillion dollar spree!
Those inept buffoons must think money grows upon a tree!
The treasury is crankin' out bales...

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Let not my heart become in my old age
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
But an open sunny porch, a welcome sage
A loving heart to those...

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Still frames with dead eyed memories.
Magic marker’d promises;
open ended lies
that I can’t seem to forget.
No matter how far I bury this thing
inside my closet. You...

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My tears are streaming
His eyes were beaming

My thoughts turn to past acts
His thoughts expose the cracks

My never-ending mental torture
His tools are put in order

My race...

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To butterflies, bats, and midnight creatures,
To the brilliant, the dark, and things unseen.
To roses, wine, and satin dresses,
To a lucid child-like dream.

To the musty scent...

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My open-ended lines can convey more than one idea. Verse 3, middle line, ends in “I am.” I am both okay (today) & puddles on...

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A third eye, an open ended
topsy-turvy petal blowing gap,
a vaginal bore, is what I’ve become.
The bloom's long gone. The petals sucked
dry with nectar long ago...

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It’s an open ended kind of life;
I know not where I go.
I hold you close inside my heart; 
I know you’re in the show.

I see...

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It has become painfully obvious that the only way to be heard
is to pay through the nose to be a lifetime nerd,
the way to be...

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Another crossroad.
Invalids weep when 
wearing another's
soiled diapers suddenly 
disappear.
In spite of the battered off-chance -
from a despondent interruption;
I'm the exposed exception.

Coarse fingers bleed.
My wheelchair spokes...

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(Door bell rings)

 — The damn dog barks and a voice is heard. Arms stretch, forming a letter Y. A head shakes. Dimples become this smooth cheek; lips...

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The Kentucky Hayseed

  - by Bob Atkinson

he looks a little confused
his mind cast in a fix
how can he concentrate on this
just a little bit

a...

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"The Recipe: Soul Soup"



Where do we go when we are lost? 

"Truth." she said, "Honesty?"
 
the response,
wasn't shallow, 
it was long winded

In short, the recipe...

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