Best Uncompleted Poems
You see us everywhere you go
Every corner of your street house our offspring
Every bridge in your city has become our refugee camp
We are the people you call peasant
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
You see us at the entrance of your estates
You see us at the gate of your beautiful companies
In search of what our mouth will feed on next
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
Our gradually fading skin
Now a sweet companion to the midnight moon and afternoon sun
We are the ones without homes
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
When bridges become forbidden by the law
We opt for uncompleted buildings
A few of us get lucky when it rains
And shield themselves under cars
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
We are the ones that beg for the remnant from your table
We are the ones life has just not been fair to
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
We are the ones that get poorer while you get richer
We are the ones that scramble for the leftover at your feast
We are the ones that fight for your used clothes
We are the peasants with pleasant rags
Categories:
uncompleted, morning, poverty, rain, storm,
Form:
Free verse
One day there was an accident, and to heavens gate I was called.
As an angel sat down beside me, upon the bed I had been put upon.
Such a shining warmth ensued as it held me in its thrall.
A thought from God proclaimed, “What with your life have you done?”
Then all of life fled past me, but not as I did expect to see it done.
For all I saw and felt were things I hadn’t known I had done, and yet…
So much pain inflicted to each, with such little words and thoughts.
I never would have known such power, by one person, could be wrought.
I bowed my head in shame at the pain I knew I could not undo, yet…
Suddenly, I found myself forgiven. Yes, TRULY it was true!
Hallelujah became my amazed and impassioned cry before him, that night!
His warmth had never wavered, nor even his illustrious, wonderful light.
How could he forgive me, someone as wretched and lowly as I?
And yet, he did… and so he changed my life from then on out.
But low and behold he wasn’t yet done with me, or so my story goes…
He sent me back to my home again… it in comparison brought me low.
But he said my work lay uncompleted, so now I must go back…
He said to stay clean and I would blossom… What do you think of that?
A veil he placed upon my eyes to remove me from the knowledge of all I’d known.
Then he sent me from his side, where I could not see him but knew he was.
Now, here I stand before you, a totally changed and humbled one.
Still, I have found I have sinned again… I know he must have known.
Perhaps some day, as I patiently wait… I’ll be allowed once more within his gate.
Only time will tell, as again I’ll feel every ones pain…
All I can say is: God Forgive Me… as I continue to wait…
(This Near Death experience really happened and changed my life.)
Written 5-25-12 By Carol Eastman
Categories:
uncompleted, death, faith, god, life,
Form:
Free verse
I know I’ve made a thousand journeys,
withstood the tests of time and foe
shed the dust and shouldered worries
struggled onward against the flow.
Unconforming, seldom bending
straight the path I ever took.
Challenge was my unending passion
contradiction I forsook.
I’ve battled tempests ‘fore and ‘hind me,
I’ve seen the devil at my heels.
Seldom knowing what lay before me
never knowing how respite feels.
I’ve seen the Valkyries and Forty Furies
their mazy circles in the sky,
taunting, haunting, ever daunting
beckoning from their aeries high.
I’ve crossed the searing sands of Gobi
and scaled Himalaya’s rocky tors,
badlands, wastelands all behind me,
walked upon the Seven shores.
I’ve gazed upon the Northern Lights
and seen the Southern Cross at sea.
I’ve traveled east and journeyed west,
no home or kindred claiming me.
No ebb of tide did succor bring me,
no place of solace ever found
but grappled fiercely all that challenged,
gaining purchase on the ground.
I rose against what life beset me
with courage the gruel for my soul,
hampered, harassed, never emptied,
firm and resolute toward my goal.
But it’s finished now, I’ve done my part
and I’ve left nothing uncompleted.
No looking back, no ruing thoughts
all my convictions undefeated.
And now I’m on that final journey
through all meridians of time and space,
with hope to meet the God that gave me
aeonian fortitude to run the race.
© August, 2015
Categories:
uncompleted, adventure, courage, freedom, identity,
Form:
Carpe Diem
IMAGINATION
Closed eyes; under a locked prism of unavailable light
subjects our third eye to mind's internal creation;
imagined images viewed by non-existent senses
on an opague three dimensional screen.
In an algorithm of shedded particle waves
Insight quickly fades back into a darkened vision
of only half a picture without reflection.
It leaves with us a broken trail of possibilities
new thoughts, new choices, changes in destiny
warily made under duress of immediacy
trying to conceive a canvas framed
by the hand of God.
It is in response to these panchromatic memories
held back by the sun's blackened light,
that we clearly notice how the prism
reflects an undercurrent. of shadeless secrets
different than the realm of visionary colors.
Sensory detections relinquish an uncompleted picture.
The image within, at times, may reveal an idea.
the transmission of which however placed
when received should strive to become an emotional
mover of otherwise placid thinking where wizened leaders
can in causes wept in sorrow from yesterday's sadness
proclaim a hope for a brighter tomorrow.
INTERPRETATION:
When our eyes are shut tight, there is no light or vision.
We are limited to what we see with our inner mind.
Nevertheless there is an internal sense,
a feeling of a creative process going on.
It occurs as insight and often fades into a clouded vision
of a thought picture barely perceived within.
When we leave the path of contemplative thinking,
we lose the benefit of what could have been.
The choices we make are usually expedient
and we struggle to determine
what it is that we really want.
Often we are faced and challenged by outside forces
many of which we deflect as we espouse our point of view
without exploring all the possibilities.
We see what could be and would like to be
hoping that it will make a difference.
and help humanity move forward
to a brighter tomorrow.
CAK 5-23-2103
Categories:
uncompleted, image, imagination, introspection, life,
Form:
Imagism
I go there while sitting in the executive conference room during budget meetings.
I go there while listening to his teacher tell me he acts like the ten year old boy that he is.
I go there while stuck in traffic with the other sheep being led to slaughter.
I even go there in the middle of the preacher trying to send me down the righteous path.
I go there in the grocery store line while price checks are being called for the shopper in front of me.
I go there with uncompleted tax report forms sitting in front of me on my desk.
I go there with a snow shovel in my hand, pushing it back and forth across my driveway.
I even go there in the middle of a prostate exam.
And, every time I go there - it is just as beautiful as ever.
I smell the bountiful fragrance of the most colorful flowers.
I meld with the butterflies fluttering about; I rejoice in the songs of the birds gliding on air above.
That secret garden that exists deep inside of my being is what helps me to carry on.
by Joe Flach for Nette's "My Secret Garden" Contest
2/13/2014
Categories:
uncompleted, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
The fat director in his piggy mien
Sitting in opulent oval office,
Wearing costly French suit
A delicate silk bow tie,
While the buttons are straining to keep
The belly from bursting out,
In performing callisthenic of the bulge.
Telephone rag, he lifted two of several
Dropped and picked with Havana stuck to his pout
And spoke rapidly with cheek dancing:
I want them in my piggy bank
I want the whole, as my piggy position is concern,
I will take seventy five per cent of the piggy taken
Forget about them,
Leave the piggy bubble project uncompleted
I will meet you for a brunch,
Masses rendered impotent, swallowed and wolves down
By the pig and his henchmen
Raining down hardship and flooded hopelessness,
Wiping up suffering and slashing death,
They fed and sold selfishness
And leave many to immeasurable loses,
To wash and watch shame
Inside the sewage of the rich
Presenting dramatic performance of bone to bone,
And starring, the ultimate Warrior Kwashiokor
For nouveau rich spectators applause,
Waifs and beggars begged and flogged more
Expectation refused to manifest in globe
Yet those who have expanded chests came out
To yell protestation but, castrated in their ranks.
The robbed queued in supplication to Almighty
Ears from the nooks of the ghettoes
From the air every blessed hour,
Wailing mulimukun sobbed Allah
That of rabbi baritone Jehovah Rapha
Enough! Prostration to lead infinite frustration
And threw hands up,
And supported the jaws with fragile limbs waiting
Aluta continua! Drummed the repressed voices,
With boundless bundle of fists thrown up
To face the militant ants with all laser weapon
Punctured, battered and marched down
Until the rout were silent;
Real war is not wage on the battlefield
But on a space minute than head of a pin,
World is just a rounder
Which urchins kick about in the streets,
The rule and regulation, don’t bother
Whether pricked by volley
Or pretended thorns hidden all around
When permitting dribbling,
We are fools to the brim.
Categories:
uncompleted, mystery
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
My smile
Causes wind cries
Your heart
beating fast
Your being
Shattering us
Am I beliving?
My tears
Touch your
Soul
Ignite your
humanity
Changes your
Inner Destiny
And that is me
My life
Fragments of
Symbols
Uncompleted
Puzzles
If and only if
I depart ….
A new chapters unfolds
25/ jul/ 11
If this a poem then am dreaming
Categories:
uncompleted, life
Form:
Free verse
My spiritual journey has been eventful,
Still uncompleted. It started at a very
Young age; my proper life very ordinary.
Raised simple old-fashioned; my soul very faithful.
Encouraged by spiritual closeness to God.
I loved my peaceable solitude when abled
To have it all to myself when I was troubled.
A footbridge where I wept, embraced God, and felt awed.
Marriage and my children changed my life forever.
Difficult challenges or uplifting good times
His amazing grace, always there cleansing my crimes.
Age still welcomes Wisdom; desire and endeavor.
I walk freely following His light, step-by-step.
Guides me through changing seasons to heaven's doorstep.
1/6/2021
2. Journey
'''J'' Contest, New or Old' Contest Info
Sponsored by Constance La France
Categories:
uncompleted, god, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
Now there is a place in the silken webs of logic where somewhere does
reside,
But the tangled dreams of my existance, remain hidden somewhere deep
inside,
I've researched the truth of my essence and it is probable that I do
exist,
But to what capacity and somewhere it is clear but now it remains in
mist.
My parents are part of somewhere, now my Dad is somewhere lurking in
my past,
He died and has gone somewhere, where the angels welcome his walk at
last,
My somewhere is still an uncompleted journal, one more page I reach
to turn,
In the scribblings of my life, joy, sorrow, stretching some more to
learn.
Everyone of us have infinite somewheres of noisy whispers of a
chaotic mundane life,
Many people share another's somewhere, but soon leave for husband or
wife,
I try to change my somewhere at least every two years so it doesn't
get stale,
Then backtrack to find again my somewhere,looking for breadcrumbs
down that familiar trail.
Now the logic behind my ramblings, is found somewhere in the recesses
of my mind,
If I've confused you somewhere,relax,for I myself am seeking someone
unique in kind,
The Designer of such an incredible, advanced mechinism as my very
mind and soul,
And along that incredulous journey, will be found pieces to make my
somewhere whole!
©11/09/2012
Categories:
uncompleted, faith, introspection, life, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
I thought you were the one but you cheated
Now I'm left alone picking up the pieces
I thought you were the one but I guess I was defeated
Wanting to pick up the phone but my eyes hurt from crying in the creases
What did I do? I doesn't matter because you weren't true
And now I guess we're through
I miss you I think I need you
But I know deep inside that I don't want to be your boo
I thought I was the only one but I guess I was one of the few
I thought you were the one but your not and now I feel uncompleted
Now from what you've shown I should have guessed when the name you called out was Lisa's
I thought you were the one
Please God I ask that these feelings won't be repeated
My first clue was on the rosetta stone
I hope this heartache of mine soon decreases
I thought we were gonna make it
I was wrong that I admit
Now I feel so confused
And most of all I feel used
Please...I ask for this heartache to leave me
So one day I can begin to feel free
Categories:
uncompleted, lost love
Form:
IF WORDS WERE WISHES
Shaking fingers strike these keys, stroke, by stroke, by stroke.
Words to explain this gentle walk, our history implores we make.
“Walk Gentle”, Elders speak, when all vision blurs around.
It is the fog that shrouds, like the fires of war when stoked.
Like the haze of doubt, as fear claims its own forgotten mistake.
This quiet that is feared the most; all emptiness of sound.
What song shall be sung to return such grace now choked?
What message can be shared that returns, much less takes?
Where are the Elders who speak, whilst we seek to be found?
Such an uncompleted story when words do not invoke:
Once upon a time, when we held you without this ache.
Once upon a time, we thought forever we be bound.
If words were wishes and only one could make this cloud a hoax,
I would give such words and climb the sky with you; for all sake,
For one last moment without broken heart nor pouring wound.
One last time, we’d build that fire we once desired to stoke,
One last time, dance our history as earth beneath would quake,
Then would Elder Spirits dance away, this our grieving sound.
If words were wishes, wherever they be; such are not easily found.
JR Twaddell © 05-11-15
Categories:
uncompleted, bereavement, brother, culture, death,
Form:
Free verse
The next day,
Filled,
With the dreams,
Of uncompleted history,
Promises hope,
And time,
Except,
You have things to do,
Others need you,
Depending,
Requiring,
For their absolutes,
You are a means,
To their end,
A helpful partner,
To their process,
You drift,
Through the day,
The week,
The year,
Even the leaves,
Get their days,
Of green and yellow,
But not you,
You wait,
You muddle,
Bask in the glory,
Of busyness,
So active you are,
Getting things done,
Truth teases,
Scratching,
At the closet door,
It hangs,
Unwrinkled,
Waiting to be worn,
Because it was made,
Just for you,
It's comfy,
Regal, even,
The world awaits,
Your cloak,
Your stroll,
Down the runway,
To record,
What's to come,
And that's your dream,
A designer's sample,
The glimpse,
That tells the story,
The next day,
You are scheduled,
To appear,
Present your case,
No jury,
No judge,
No verdict,
An opening argument,
Your evidence,
Which validates,
You,
Being,
Here,
Wasn't a waste after all.
(10/14/02)
Categories:
uncompleted, appreciation, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
To whom it may never concern:
NOTICE
re: Regarding this notice
"Please disregard this notice"
MEMO
re: Ignored memos
"Please ignore this memo"
SIGN POSTED:
Please do not read this sign
Any employee who reads this sign will be subject to immediate disciplinary inaction and/or non-determination
LETTER TO APPLICANT
"Our insincere no thanks for your disinterest in our company
The position you didn't apply for has previously been unfilled
Therefore upon not reviewing your application we have decided not to review your application"
REPLY TO ROBERTA'S HARASSMENT COMPLAINT
Dear Bob:
Your complaint is unimportant to us so please hold and one of our agents will not contact you shortly. For insecurity purposes this complaint may or may not be recorded. We're not sorry, but your complaint cannot be uncompleted as dialed. Please hang up and ABSOLUTELY don't try this little trick again
We pride ourselves on being an equal opportunity employer. Our male employees are required to follow extremely unstringent guidelines. With no exceptions EVERYONE is equally harassed constantly. This policy is strictly not enforced on a god-only-knows-when basis. Please don't feel free not to contact us any time. Our ears are always stopped up
Categories:
uncompleted, may,
Form:
Light Verse
I know about uncompleted building
A Terrible lot it could start wielding:
Perhaps, not in Far-Away Siberia
But, quote me, here in Lord God’s Nigeria!
A Receiving Camp for Smokers of Weed,
The Thickest Spirals in times of vile Need;
All The Depraved in Neighborhoods shielding,
Cries of torture as victims are pleading …
Get ready for the Truest Euphoria,
People down with The Falsest Malaria;
A Scenario for The Angering Deeds:
How dare you there recite The Apostles’ Creed?
Also, a venue for Helpful Latrine,
Unless Keep-Off Signals you meet Urine.
Categories:
uncompleted, absence, addiction, evil, house,
Form:
Rhyme
I am from that street where people are neglected
Never bothered about but exploited .
the street where hopes and dreams dish
Away through frustration and disappointment.
We are seen always with spoon in our pocket
Wandering from hut to hut in search of of food,
Bare footed in our ghetto home.
We run around with food from street to street
looking for the fittest among us to eat eat the largest.
The street of pains where destitution and sorrow lived
That is where i came from.
Every one is a no body until you conquer fate
with an extraordinary move in your heart.
That kind of street where no one help you but
They are there to push you to the wall, then mock you.
And make nothing out of your dreams.
There, we live in an uncompleted building with no toilet and bathroom,
The lizards were our play mate and the snakes our neighbours.
We pass out our excrete in the bush behind our humble home,
And eat from our vomits yet happy and fine.
No one is ready to give you but ready to take from you.
The dark street filled with hyenas and wolves
With a mental, disordered commoners from the west bridge.
Little light penetrating in brings hopes but always quash by the
thugs.
The pick pocketers never sleep nor slumber, they lay awake under
The bridge trying to invade on their prey.
Thugs sing war songs in merriment of their stupidity
And those songs sent our heart in their bellies in fear.
In the vital part of the street are occupied by dustbin.
I am from that street of homeless children with torn clothes,
dangling on their stomach.
No one pity them rather they kidnapped and used them for rituals.
We never sleep at night without a sleeping pill
Yet you sleep awake.
I was once from the street of pain
Think not that all was well with me from the genesis.
Categories:
uncompleted, abuse,
Form:
Bio