Long Incomplete Poems

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Not an easy read

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.........
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member At the crossroads of years, where stones whisper for centuries

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.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Don'T Worry

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
Form: Verse

Unread Newspapers

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.

Satirical Resentment

" 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.
Form: Quatrain


Humans Need An After Life

(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!
Form: Nazm

Premium Member Now What

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
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Righting American History

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
© Greg Gaul  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member On That Mysterious Night

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

Authenticated Addressed Partial Letter Circa 1970 Part Two

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.
Form: Epic

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