Long Incomplete Poems
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That book I stopped reading,
After chapter thirteen,
Its covers judging me back,
For months its left unseen.
Chapter twelve was like breeze,
But thirteenth fell apart ,
The fourteenth didn't draw me in,
It failed to touch my heart.
Today, I pick that book again,
Only to resume where I left.
But what if it doesn’t meet,
The expectations I’ve kept?
I’m losing hold of it,
The new one looks more hot,
The one I got this week,
I think that’s worth a shot.
I left it on a swift note,
No cliffhangers in sight,
And letting it be as it is,
Just felt like it was right.
I think it’s better incomplete,
I loved it thus so far,
And reading it for sake of ending
Might only leave a scar.
Or maybe,I will come back to it,
If there’s no book left to bloom,
Only then I think it’s justified,
To give this one a resume.........
At the crossroads of years, where stones whisper for centuries,
Inside unfolds the mystical drama of the self seeking light,
Through mazes of thoughts like leaves rolling towards truth.
Thirsty souls gaze towards the sky, begging for drops of eternity,
On the edges of doubts, gardens grow - guardians of lost meanings,
A journey to the core, where shadows are fragments of incomplete answers.
There are valleys where echoes intertwine with the whispers of ancestors,
Under the vault, a chorus rises, a melody of boundless quests,
A sacred song - only the heart carries in prayer, spread by the birds of silence in their flight.
In the inner temple, at the unseen altar, unspoken hopes burn,
In jewels of darkness, the brightest flames take shape,
And each falling star is a devotion, a metaphor of the hidden, ignited dream.
The mysteries of underground rivers embroider a river of consciousness in the depths,
Sketching in sacred caves icons of thought, the holy mirage of wisdom,
And each rock from which water bursts forth is an altar, a gateway to infinity.
The seeds of reality get lost in the sands of time, on the path of initiation,
A carousel of meanings spinning among the stars, in a dance of wordless songs,
And when night shares with day the cosmic secret of passage,
Mystical auroras reveal that the true journey is not towards the peak,
But in the spiral of inner ascent, the mystical ascension of being.
At this altar, the unknown reveals itself to you, and finally,
You remain with your name carried on the lips of the wind,
In the siren's song of the infinite, weaving a mystical refrain,
Though its sparkle is hidden from worldly eyes,
What grows in every soul is a never-ending story,
Narrated in the silent language of the heart - this is the hymn of those who journey within.
Once upon a time,
The Orange & Pink Dragon
Popped out of nowhere,
Blowing pink flames in all directions.
The Shapeless Robot walked down the street
With a blank expression on its robotic face.
He made a Snake Bird friend,
Since he didn't have a friend of his own;
Loneliness crept in on him & he wept despondently.
"I want a friend to sweep away these feelings of loneliness!"
Cried the Shapeless Robot hopelessly.
The Snake Bird felt empathy towards him & wiped his tears away by his serpent tongue.
The Non-stop Growing Vines twirled around them in all directions suddenly...
Vibes of discomfort crawled up and down the robot's back,
Electricity, originated from energy, zipping through him constantly...
Lizorse and the gangster red-head girl ghost named Gingah were playing chest with each other,
Exchanging love expressions flirtaciously...
They blew kisses at each other time and time again.
Bubbleman got bubbled up with benevolence when he felt an Angel Hand touch his shoulder;
At last, he witnessed miracles in disguise.
All of the characters hung out and listened to old school rap,
Partying and dancing like crazy monkeys at the jungle-like zoo during their leisure time.
The Incomplete Ship flew towards them,
Silence slipping though the merry atmosphere...
The palm tree, excluded from the rowdy group,
Acknowledges the Stripeful Fish happily.
"Don't worry..." said the palm tree sheepishly with content, "You can be my friend always and forever"
The End
We get to see you rise, step on the cold floor
When the clock strikes five in the dark.
Your cell goes gaga over nothing, you lie
next to our lot, begging attention.
When the lily in your garden and the mynah
Over the sill shows up, your sleep spent,
You look at the mirror to get a fresh impression of you.
And the mirror sees it all.
Why not use the afternoon, after work?
Give us a day’s read. A day past and spent.
Better in sound than in silence, you think.
We complain non-acknowledgement.
Dates, events, ads, drown in oblivion
As you skim through headlines and
Read columns that interest you.
Why this prejudice? We ask.
You seem not to care.
We are a shadow of the past,
Of today, a piece of paper.
Left to lie, an incomplete existence.
" Dear wife, why don't you embrace
the wind of changes by being ablaze? "
the disillusioned husband inquired...
" A lot more affection is required! "
You patiently bore my off-spring with continuous glee,
when constant fortune was the source of fortitude in me,
you knew how to satisfy every desire, every need of mine...
have you withdrawn the generosity of such a gladsome smile?
I glamorized the moments we spent alone
into the silver moonlight, the kisses we gave
to each other under that rustic shelter, if rain came,
and no fragments of luminous stars fell from heaven.
If I were a chivalric hero, returning from battle with tales
of valor and victory: you would be running to me
with roses in your fair hair and delight on your young face...
so what's keeping you from reaching extremity?
There's an absence of emotion in responses,
with lots of repulses to repress my advances,
while my gratification remains incomplete...
as a parting embrace with a doubt so infinite.
(unfit
category
but no
choice.)
Life would
be
worthless
and
short
If this is
the only
dear life
we
have
Great
plans just
death can
abort
to be
useless
once you
met
your grave.
And for
those who
die young,
in
chilhood's
tender
ages
How short
and
incomplete
life
would be
How
unfair and
unlucky if
death's
the end
for them
Besides
life to the
fullest is
eternity.
What
about
those who
born
and die
poor
or those
born deaf,
blind or
lame
What if
they were
so
doomed
without
any cure
How
unlucky if
resurrection
never
came!
But a
belief that
there's a
life
after this
could be
of great
consolation
and solace
especially
to the
poor
handicapped,
the
shortlived
that they
could
make it up
under
heaven's
grace!
For the
good one
who is
born
blind
In heaven
shall he in
brighter
vision see
And the
goodly
one yet
who
has lost
his mind
will in the
afterlife
be as sane
as could be
The deaf
man with
his balance
of pious
acts
Only the
hereafter
would
compensate
what he
lacks
And that
godly one
born poor
and who
dies poor
could be
of the
richest at
heaven's
door
In this life
those
who've
been
saintly yet
unable to
talk
could
cheer up
to believe
what
heaven
has in
stock
For this
world can
be misery,
heaven's
the place
to rock
In this
world at
times
you've
to let the
hawks
gawk
Knowing
your
tormentor
in
heaven
shall ye
mock
Thus for a
true
happy
ever
after
for an
abode of
mirth and
laughter
Work
towards
thy
hereafter
A divine
place
devoid of
disaster!
Through a blustery wind in winter
Arm in arm we go
The snow is falling, we don't care
We love each other so
Finally we're together
We've waited patiently
And now the time has gone to "since"
No longer "hopefully"
The days were long and lonely
The nights were short yet sweet
For that is when I dreamed of you
But still was incomplete
I wanted to be your blanket
To cover you so warm
To wrap myself around you
To conform to your form
I stayed back in the background
Not saying much at all
Not seeing me I would see you
And later would recall
The image in my memory
Kept hidden in its place
But now at last can tell you things
As I look into your face
America's had lots of heroes through the years
Helping the world overcome many fears
Humankind hasn't always been kind
Look closely at history, see what you find
Our founders succeeded and failed many ways
People of color not treated fairly those early days
Three fifths a human is a void left incomplete
An error future generations destined to repeat
Indigenous people's abuse not a matter of pride
Devastation of natives a story history did hide
The Iroquois Confederacy gave us our republic's design
Its novel concept: states and nation's powers align
All of which helped founders form this great nation
We repaid this gift by invoking near annihilation
The Statue of Liberty invited all to come in
Remember our promise once again can begin
Supremacy, Eugenics, Ethnic biases towards the other
Can result in policies separating a child from a mother
In the last great war the Japanese here were incarcerated
Their concentration camps long since have been eliminated
Still the attitudes of ethnic discrimination persist
We always fall prey to what we resist
Much that hurts you is what you don't know
Amazing how deep "Bigoted Suffrage Suppression" did go
All minorities' suffering here has been vast
Here's how it plays out in the recent past:
1920: Women first get to vote
1924: Native Americans first get to vote
1943: Chinese citizens first get to vote
1946: Asian Indian citizens first get to vote
1950: Asian native born first get to vote
1952: Japanese citizens first get to vote
1965: African Americans first get to vote
Bigotry is deeper and bigger than you knew
Power and domination over others does not make right
Today, we must deal with all minorities' plight
It's our nation's unrealized promise that all will be free
Our union depends on the promise that we all can be
Created equal is what makes us all as one
When we get there as a nation, our work will be done
Every great society has dark secrets untoward
Looking back helps us see our way forward
This is why truth always makes a difference
Lost civilization's ethics is their lasting evidence
America's still young as history does show
Compassion and integrity will light where we go
Alone in my room
I felt like I was suffocating
The night breeze was not chilly enough
In my opinion
So I chose to go out someplace
Where I would be able to admire the moon
And maybe even waves
Waves, so strong
Crashing against the shores of my homeland
Seeming to lash out their anger
For wanting to be united with these
But being held apart by the whims of Fate!
So I took my violin in my hands
And walked out
But Lo! how surprising, as I walked
I felt myself being lifted
Up in the air
To hover above everything and everyone else
And soon, to reach
The top of a shore line cliff
There, where, waiting for me
Was a most mysterious being
A being, dressed in a tuxedo suit
A being, so charming
That one glimpse at his eyes
Had me wanting to somersault and dive in the seas
A being, so handsome
That simply by gazing at his eyes
I felt like I could see in these
The skies, personified, and being
For my self, so merciful!
He spoke not, just held out a hand
And bid me to share with him
A waltz!
While I swirled and twirled
I felt, unfolding in my soul
The very essence of romanticism
When we were done
He held me close
And sealed his lips on mine
With such intense desire
That I felt, unfolding in my heart
Waterfalls, raging and mighty
Then, his hands closed my eyes shut
And when I opened them again
I noted, with dismay
That I was merely in my bed
Warm and well tucked in
But, I knew
That unfolded in my whole body
Was the itch for this mysterious entity!
So much that I made it the sole aim of my life
To seek him and to share with him
The fiery waltz of our entwined lives
The fiery waltz
Which had been left incomplete
There, on those cliffs
The fiery waltz
Which we started
On that mysterious night!
For Contest
Mysterious Night
2 August 2017
He ranked as de facto semiprecious,
tremulous and unanimous scapegoat
bullied by a bumptious, callous,
disputatious hippopotamus of a brat
infamous bruiser later in his life to become
forty fifth president of UnIted States.
Though documentation incomplete, the un
named subject referred within torn shred
recovered included signatory couching
ambiguous references to a tenebrous,
unscrupulous, and vicious wiseass initials.
Dee Tee quickly intuitively assessed
as one inhumane specimen, whose pugnacious,
pretentious, and pestiferous, persona characterized
impetuous, adulterous apprenticeship appetite
for erecting phallic skyscrapers.
This once pacific pilloried pupil, whose grown
son (myself), now recalls father's misty eyed
anecdotes dripping with acrimonious, curmudgeonly
grouchy, grizzly and crotchety old sorries,
viz refashioned abominable kamikaze
psychological sorties.
I can vividly recall (how painful unto his old age)
oft daddy's repeated quotidian taunts, whereby
that bad ass, acidulous, avaricious, contemptuous,
enormous, and grievous big boy trumpeting
bruiser exuded devious, heinous, libelous, and
parsimonious tightwad, though born into wealth.