Long Unfilled Poems
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There are two glasses of wine on the stand
One for me and the other for somebody dear
Time ticks slow waiting for him to be near
Sadly nobody seems to be coming at hand.
Outside the sun fades away for the day
Night awakens with the moon and stars
My heart cries unaided for you to be afar
No calls or quests were left from you today.
I empty one glass of red wine for comfort
The solitary cup remains for his return home
One can only wonder weather he is alone
Maybe these thoughts will only be an effort.
Desolately I dimmed the lights in the room
Why can’t you come home and be with me
I have been waiting for a long time you see
You left me once, twice would be too soon.
I closed my eyes only to dream of yesterday
You cradled me gently in your arms all night
A whisper of kindness assured me all is alright
When I would wake, your smile came my way.
Gently a soft voice upset my restless sleep
I shrugged it off and kept sleeping sound
Then a kiss forced me to turn around
A man stood before and I could only weep.
The lonely wineglass was now no longer full
Two unfilled glasses stood facing each other
And a couple walked off with one another
Sorry the story has to end, life is no longer dull.
I sat here in thought.
About the woman I love.
That of her beauty,her eye's,the touch of her skin.
The thought of her fabulious curves that drive me wild.
How I like to be making love to her right now.
In more ways then one,I know for sure!
To hear the sound of her voice,to feel her in my arms.
To run my fingers wild through her patch.
To feel the tip of our tongues meet with excitement,with that of an explode.
There the passion would be as I would love her with all my being.
It's there I am sad that she is not here to enjoy the thought.
The ones of us making wild in these mountain top.
The ones of my lips kissing her with such passion.
That with a softness and gentle touch.
That it would send chills up and down our spines.
The thoughts of me up between her thighs,having a snack and a treat.
As I would find festive in many ways.
That we would not sleep this night.
Because there would be an outlaw on the prowl.
Cause I would take everythibg she had to offer.
All the way to giving her muti ****** and putting a smile on her face.
That there she would know she is loved by a real man.
Because every time I stop,she would want to do it again.
And I would gladly ablize tapping that ass again.
Having her always wanting more because that's the kind of loving man I am.
That you hit right and they always come back for more.
But these thoughts I have go unfilled because she is not here.
But these thoughts are my own and that's what keeps me surviving this.
Because there,these thoughts are my wildest dreams.
And dreams are what keeps me alive.
As I'm true to the one I love.
That there my heart is because of the one I love.
That these thoughts are my desire for true love.
Ten nights abound
With bounties in it
The sincerity of worship
And the submission of a slave
Seeking the mercy of his master.
Ten last nights we crave
Like vigilant watchmen
Yearning for one special night
When the mercy of our Lord
Shall majestically descend on the world.
The last ten nights that abound
The words of our prophet resound
To seek Allah in worship
And seek of Him of His blessings.
The last ten nights of Ramadan
Comes with it a new beginning
And a promise of better days ahead.
Our hearts yearn for this night
In the dark hollows we seek light
And in our silence and pains
We stand firm in obeissance
To our Lord who created man and the Jinns
And the tall mountains looking up at the sky
And the silent seas with fishes
And the wild beasts of the forests.
We shall raise our hands
Testifying to His greatness
We shall come to Him empty
For we know we shall not depart unfilled.
Our Lord His merciful
And to Him is our return.
As the last ten nights abound
Let's seek the night of majesty
To rekindle the flames of worship
And bring to Him our burden loads
And our heavy hearts
Hoping that success shall come our paths
For our resting place
Shall be filled with His grace
In company of the prophet
And of those who strived with him.
The last ten Nights
We pray sleep depart our sights
As we yearn for the booties
To carry on our worldly duties
Oh bold flowered beauty,
Persistent truth of unfilled dreams
The manufactured crop of one imagination,
Drink well cousin, then spray about
As though all water were your own.
Snicker and sneer knowing ruse
But still accuse each other of
Saving eye for eye as loss for all.
And when a day we borrow is born
Every word that has been spoken
Will be broken like bread between us.
Shall we abandon you,
Make a fuss about a ladle or wagon
An empty jug or flutter, while stone
Looks on stone and sees the butterfly return.
Color, light, night, then borrowed day.
So many shiny coins for dreams away,
“…sunshine, a warm beam balancing comes…”
Over and over until a robin’s ear
Will bleed; we forgive ourselves.
Who hear the deer and see the sky,
And while inside gaze among the same
Branches of a single tree we would cut
Our limbs to see, our gifts all given.
Not to be awakened but to hold until
We give them all away, All dreams away.
We opted to talk,
Disparities to dissolve,
Our problems to solve,
And went out on walk—
Not hands-locked as was before,
Heart’s feelings to pour,
Way out seemed no nigh
When words tied into tight knots,
Morrows, a sad sigh,
Life, like unfilled dots,
It all ended in silence,
Though with resilience,
We knew not at once,
But life’s ship had reached home-shore,
And back as before,
When we’d arrived home,
Eureka, all roads reached Rome,
Silence our life bailed,
When everything failed,
Ah silence had onward sailed,
We under same dome!
__________________________________
Musings |05.06.2021|
Poet’s note: As a pause is in poetry, in-between notes of a melody, so is silence in social chemistry. When words fail, silence seems to sail. It is in silence that two broken hearts meet and beat together. Each stanza here looks like a Haiku, but only so appears.
It's Christmas Eve at the North Pole,
But everybody is resting,
And Santa's sleigh's not been loaded
Because the elves are protesting.
They're demanding better wages,
A four-day work week, more vacations,
Stock options, and health care,
And union representation.
The toy factory is dark,
The assembly line stilled,
And heaped up all around
Are stacks of orders unfilled.
Santa blusters and fumes,
But to little avail,
Even when he hotly threatens
To have the whole crew thrown in jail.
Mrs. Claus attempts to arbitrate
And to relieve some of the tension,
But that just upsets the reindeer,
And now they, too, are in dissension.
But when Rudolf sticks his nose in,
Declaring he won't guide the sleigh,
Santa caves and honors their demands,
And so saves Christmas Day.
With a cheer the elves get back to work,
And the sleigh they quickly pack.
Then Santa climbs in with a smug little grin
And gives his whip a crack.
Away he goes shouting "Ho! Ho! Ho!",
Some elves capturing it all on their iPhones
So this trip they'll remember when comes next December
And they've all been replaced by delivery drones.
But the toys, at least, will be delivered,
And everything has turned out right.
So Merry Christmas to us, one and all,
And to all of us good night.
Happy Holidays to all you boys and girls on Poetry Soup...
Whoosh , hwush, wush
Wush whoosh hwush,
the billowing wind crashes
through the mountains,
it smashes my window pane,
and empties my bucket list.
I can hear them calling,
I can see them coming,
and I can feel them beckoning me to come.
but I’ve died a hundred times,
resurrected from a thousand death ,
and I know that it is not my time yet.
I have made a hundred plans,
but they have all crumbled in my hands.
Reason or purpose?
Coincident or plan?
I still do not understand.
It is inevitable,
It is unchangeable ,
and it lingers at our door.
unfilled dreams and endless goals,
what if this story was never to be told?
hiking on the mountains,
building homes for homeless children,
Or spending time with family and friends.
I scanned through my list,
but nothing seem to fit,
have I already achieved them?
or am I reliving them?
what else is there to do on my bucket list?
©2013 Christine Phillips
The moon is full, but it sheds no grace,
A hollow lantern in the velvet space.
Its light falls cold on the ocean's crest,
Where waves surge on, in eternal unrest.
Loneliness whispers through the trees,
A soft, forlorn hymn carried by the breeze.
Savannah's tall grass sways in despair,
The stillness broken by no tender care.
The rivers wind with a mournful song,
Carving paths where none belong.
Streams murmur low, their waters clear,
Yet every ripple speaks of fear.
Few trees stand, their arms outspread,
Guardians over bushes, where green has fled.
Leaves shine bright, but the heart they hide
Knows no solace, no joy inside.
Among the beasts that prowl the land,
A wild rhythm binds the sand.
But even the fierce cannot escape
The ache of love's unfilled shape.
The moon watches, cold, aloof, above,
A barren witness to a world without love.
Isolation reigns where shadows creep,
And the soul sinks deep in its quiet weep.
The cosmic design of the stars near and far
defines the astronomic architecture of the zodiac.
The night sky displays the harmony of primal pattern,
transmitted to everything that exists on earth,
decides their unknown fate in some astral way,
not yet understood nor discarded as unsound.
Life may or may not follow mystical astrological dictate,
the stars will appear in the sky at their will,
take us to their world of fantasy on space odyssey.
That’s why there are stars.
As our only crimson star sets with the hue of twilight,
the night falls spreading the shroud of the darkened sky.
The stars of constellations open their eyes one by one,
twinkling in blue glow that travelled for many light years,
an adornment of the night’s flushing firmament,
not yet stolen nor abandoned in the outer space.
The sprinkle of stardust sparkles in lovers’ hearts,
not yet deserted nor broken into shards.
That’s why there are stars.
In the dark wilderness of desolate life if I lose my way,
I set my eyes on the unmoving pole star
that holds my hands, takes me to where you are.
You lie by a placid lake under the star studded summer sky
that descends on the water rippling like my heart,
not yet sated nor unfilled with the sense of belonging.
In the starless hazy night of gloom
I see in your eyes the glint of thousand stars,
gleaming like drops of dew of the dawn in my meadow.
They tell me where the stars have gone.
That’s why there are stars.
________________
June 17, 2018
October 16, 2022
For Mark Toney's contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 17
Roving a youthful shadowed ebony heaven
as the earth is still on blissful spring night flight.
I fly through and over the enclosing trees,
boughs', and the susurration fluttering leaves.
I emerge to nesting Nightingales
and their cacophony melodious
of unfilled cries , calling me
to come to appease their needs.
Alighting and dripping down
for a short quick kiss to each one.
I woke to a vision of streaked ,wisps
of timeless gray clouds before the morning.
It's not a silent night, stars glitter and wink
in the dark as they look down on me.
Minstrels outside my bedroom window;
the birds were there somewhere
between the treetops and the cloud bottoms.
There will be no sleeping beauty upon these white linens,
as a result of reverberating sounds of those crying cuties.
7/2/2017