Best Unfulfilling 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
Dormant desires within derelict deserts’
Winds whispering of your selective stealth
Frozen fingers that chill the empty spaces
Longing for you a pacifier of thickened thorns
Discombobulation drives the day
Your mendacious love marooned on dusty dunes
Secluded silhouettes stranded
Mystifying mirages migrating
Only sacrificial shadows scream
Where your love mutates into a holographic hollow
Desolation within a Venus vacuum
An anemic vampire
Erotic deceptions dominate deflecting desires
Eruptive emotions have no place to tread
For your unfulfilling love, a puff of smoke
In a hellion hole.
Sept.10.2019
Sometimes love is not enough
Sponsored by: Silent One
Placed 2'nd & POTD...Thank You
Faith is a powerful force;
requiring absolute trust.
It allows you to believe:
you are loved, and not alone.
Suffering persecution:
sometimes, all you have is faith.
And yet, it's unshakable;
in times of adversity.
Praying perpetuates hope:
opening your heart to God.
And when you first feel His love;
everything you thought: changes.
Belief can imbue your life
with a strong sense of purpose.
Existence should never feel
empty or unfulfilling.
The love that you have for God:
it is rooted in blind faith.
And yet, that faith sustains you;
nourishing your heart and soul.
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
We dance we sing, we talk, we listen, we ping. Dreams are made of this. We walk, we eat, we laugh we cry, we console, we listen, no wonders why. We are magical, we are light, dreams of holding hands by the rivers moonlight. Dreams are made of this.
Together we are hand in hand, two against the world, you my women me your man. Dreams are made of this. We say things to the soul that hurt, we batter and bruise, we fight, we ignore, we cause fear we are sore. Dreams are made of this.
Through indifference, through pain, through rain storms, through the insane, through the mystery of me the storm always ends, two hands touch, a remembrance to commitment a remembrance to love. Dreams are made of this.
Without some struggle without some fight, without some tragedy without some flight, without some crazy, without some fear, then and only will love then be secured. Love is not solely achieved on perfection without pain love then has no meaning it must contain rain. Dreams are made of this.
Do not solely blame yourself nor solely blame others for the tragedy of love lost, you are human there is always a cost. Love In all of its fragility, love can be weak, unfulfilling, flightless, distant hope, and meek. Dreams are made of this.
Then that is not love, that is not real, that is not what you seek for only when love becomes forgiveness, love is not lost it becomes your strength your destiny your boss. Dreams are made of this….Poetry by Dean
Many a hunger goes unfed.
Some adjust and live with it,
finding satisfaction in suitable activities.
Others push that hunger down, deeper and deeper,
filling the empty hole inside themselves
with dangerous addictions that take the place
for what they hunger for.
Starved for the attention or love
they never received as children,
voracious some become.
They fill the void with things like gambling,
***********, drugs or alcohol.
Each addiction follows its victim through life
like a dark abiding shadow.
Some, needing control of their own lives,
literally starve themselves of food deliberately,
becoming anorexic or bulimic and vomiting their food back up.
The remedy for normalcy becomes
nearly impossible for them to achieve.
For others, life is boring or unfulfilling.
Ravenous as wolves, they stuff their faces.
A paradox is this – for they are not feeding physical hunger.
They need guidance and understanding,
and the will-power to resist
an over-abundance of food, which some mistakenly
believe they hunger for.
Too many hunger for money or material possessions.
They cannot satisfy their cravings,
and this may lead to crime or even murder.
Look around and see the many people hungering
for what. . . they may not even know.
How sad is a society
when what’s considered harmful or immoral
becomes the norm for what we choose
to engorge ourselves upon.
Like the swollen bellies of children in third world countries,
the substitutions for what many of us hunger for
will become the death of us.
I sit to ponder on my life and death,
knowing one day my memories will end.
As I approach my last days I don't want yesterday,
to be more important than tomorrow.
I don't want to relive the shades and shadows,
of what has passed.
How sad that would be, how empty that would be.
The temptation to do so is there, it's easy to believe,
I have lived enough,
and spend the last years of life resting and reflecting.
It's unfulfilling and has no sense of accomplishment.
So I'll march on, one slow step after another,
my face in the wind, my eyes facing forward,
until my final memory is my last breath.
Are you more than just my imagination?
Is your call only my inner, silent plea to
be released from this lonely desperation,
this hollow, unfulfilling need?
I see you walking in the fields at night
and I feel you touch me in dawn's early light.
I smell your English lavender the same as
when you were here. Is it you, really my
Dear?
Is it you who ripples the water when I am
at our favorite creek and is it you that kisses
the tears from my cheek? It can't be just my
imagination for I feel you are here, who else
would have followed me throughout all these years.
Is it you my Love or just my Imagination?
Sharon Gulley
05/17/2014
Of school
I had no need.
I was too smart for such
useless and unfulfilling crap
I thought
Too soon
two many words
to far from the center
of a cinquain going down hill
2 fast.
You kiss
with iron hot lips.
You touch; ice cold fingers.
You love; the heart of a river
flooding.
Night , day
light, dark, hot, cold
don’t matter to a blind
pig, he just stands by the feed trough
waiting.
I wait
with a flat tire
on the side of the road
and sing a little song, to kill
the time.
Pinch you?
I did not –pinch!
I only felt of your
fat, hanging, drooping below your
beltline.
Traffic
will never be
the death of me, even
traffic will die with these high gas
prices.
PATIENCE ENDURES!
The world and the people and the individuals that come together to populate universal thinking.
Society-at-large development is seen.
How come then everything seems to be slowing down extremely?
What is patience?
The entity and the government and the bureaucrats that make economy to provide industry and growth.
Topical to socialism.
Therefore, the theme becomes exploitation.
What is a virtue?
Capitalizing upon what is known.
Establishing a mundane focus to define new norms manifests those of God.
Seriatim to generations to come.
Thus, a frustrated point and transgression is always a rule of thumb.
Patience tantamount.
Perception inculcates the thoughts while
Asinine perpetrates conflicting insight
That is unfulfilling to what is right.
Is justice true to life formed…
Either to what is right or what is wrong? Does
Nondiscriminatory discriminates intelligence decorum
Cause virtuousness statue law which is
Efficacious to the frustrated point?
Why patience?
_____________________________________________________________________|
Written May 30, 2016!
Excuse me Miss
I have no intention of harming your shade,
But the seat you left vacant for me is rather
absent.
Absent of roses I could finally romance into
smelling, absent of yin that could relax urges that
might present a stroke 70 summers later.
For some esoteric reason, this seat you’ve
manipulated into occupying until tomorrow’s
departure seems stable;
It has no opposition in waiting.
So please Miss, introduce your window seat to
me ever so kindly.
You see the seat you offered in due time, does
not welcome smiles. It’s cold, unfulfilling skin leaves
me cautious; the torn fabric has failed my thoughts
of safely time and time again.
Hope won’t join my travels while married to this seat.
I’m left contemplating questions of whether this
is my sedentary companion for the next 100 years?
But what is perhaps defined from amazing, is the
glimpse you hold dominant in this seat.
You’ve’ held this arrogant glow upon the leather,
with no remorse for the penniless seat fillers.
The carelessness of sight unvisited through the
multitude of generations is the lowest insult one
can fathom; with no refund offered as of yet.
Miss, the window seat, please.
You see, beyond the significant glory the seat
would offer,
There is a silence of worries I wish to court,
An everlasting view from peaceful quarters, that
never warrants a superficial return.
Specs without representation could meet their
potential among the tranquil armchair.
That is why my passions advance today; for there
is a retreat looming.
Miss I believe this is your exit.
Remember change pauses for nobody’s unanswered
why. The knowing is what you will reap later.
Farewell, descending one.
What, I wondered, would advanced age be like.
Sighting the elderly set my mind to rousing.
Becoming like them overtook me with fright.
But now I'm old with no need for browsing.
Memories of earlier days occupy my thoughts
Which time romances to render them splendid.
Now it's difficult to connect any lot of dots,
And voices are subdued and confusingly blended.
But above all else, what drives me quite mad
Is to awake from slumber with pain extreme
In some place in my body I never knew I had.
I struggle to keep from shouting a scream.
Curiosity causes me to question my M.D.,
Thinking I have some undiscovered part.
He smiles benignly and chuckles at me,
"That's part of a minor vein to the heart."
That knowledge strikes me as unfulfilling.
Of what else that will hurt am I unaware?
But that specter I now find less than chilling
For the truth is (yawn) I'm too old to care.
Great sorrow lies in the depths of the heart
A shadow of loneliness
A cry for recognition
The drifting thoughts
The unfulfilling wants
The hopeless mind
An overwhelmed soul
A cheer for goodness
A want for kindness
But is that all?
The jump in the abyss
Such wasteful hobbies
Unknown is greater
But known is better
Devouring time
Taken with a pinch of salt and lime
Regular is mundane
The normalising pain
Shrieking cries from the bottom
The society is rotten
Harrowing places
A world full of mazes
But is hope lost?
As rises cost
Of life of love of thy of mine
Hurt is built in empires of dream
Violent conditions and violent schemes
Growing fungus growing greed
Numbers are rising
More left alone to bleed
Question! Question! Question!
The world is larger than all of us
What agency do we have?
Is it god or is it the state?
Is it my kin or is it the community?
Is it my brother or is it my sister?
Is it me?
What is my world? Where is my home?
Who is my world? Where lies my soul?
Is jumping in the abyss such a wasteful hobby?
I dream I cry I adore I lie
I hope I scream I laugh I dream...
Concrete jungles are lush
Crush crush crush
Dream hope love passion
Passion love hope dream
...Escape!
High in the sky
Like a bird I fly
To myself I lie
To escape.
Thunder storm
Hits the norm
Waves crushing hard
Against the stones
It’s near
It’s near
It’s near...
Brittney Tyler
The mind blowing devastation sets in
It's the subtle feeling of inadequacy
Mixed with the feelings of anger and betrayal.
Why didn't you love me?
I turn over every detail of us in my head
Questioning every decision I made
Wondering what I did to push you away.
Why didn't you love me?
All the notes and gestures of caring
The cooking and smiling and laughing
None of it was enough, none was good enough.
Why didn't you love me?
I can't figure out what I did so wrong
Why couldn't I just be enough for you
What about me is so lacking and unfulfilling.
Why didn't you love me?
And all I want to do is wallow in my darkness
To forget about all of this and not feel
My whole everything is torn and hurts beyond compare.
Why didn't you love me?
You moved on so quickly and effortlessly
Smiling with no care in the world
Living life with no regrets.
Why didn't you love me?
I'm sitting here faking a smile
Pretending not to care or to hurt
But inside my soul is crushed and dying.
Why didn't you love me?
So I will keep a smile on my face
Pulling myself out of the devastation and into the sun
And forgetting about you and the pain that you caused.
Because I deserve someone who will love me.
Mind, the architect of life’s structure,
obeys what is learnt as the art of living.
Heart, the carrier of nonlinear abstract intellect,
breathes emotive truth in the framework of being.
If the diktat of mind is not pursued,
life is sucked into the whirlpool of chaos,
and not listening to the subtle urge of heart,
life turns into an unfulfilling objectified entity.
Intangible confrontation with either this or that,
designs the dubious dilemma of option,
for lack of equanimity valuing one over the other
causes the onset of neurotic inner conflict.
The foreseeable forks in life’s pathway tests
if judgment and wisdom falter in internal strife.
The rational balance of mind and heart
finds psychic route out of cognitive dissonance.
________________
August 18, 2022
Contest : Inner Conflict
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker