Long Unsatisfactory Poems

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Dickensian Dactyl

Squickleby Pickleby
Nicholas Nickleby
loses his Father and
feels quite forlorn.

Ralph his tight uncle a
disciplinarian
mean to the marrow
regards him with scorn.

Nicholas, penniless
uncompromisingly
works as a master where
boys take the flack.

Nickleby fears for the 
safety of orphans there
rescues a cripple and
never looks back.

Granted this ending is
unsatisfactory
Dickens had plenty more
meat to this tale.

So to all readers I
send my apologies;
These double dactyls are
tricky travail.

01.01.2021

Based on the novel 'Nicholas Nickleby' by Charles Dickens

Double Dactyl (Win For Paid Membership) Poetry Contest
Sponsor : William Kekaula


Premium Member An Early Experiment

The mirror reflects, obliquely,
a peculiar yellow butterfly -- it flutters, flutters
the specks of black my beard is made of
on the breeze.  A daffodil hangs down its treasure
and I spread shaving cream, in great white puffs,
shielding from the windy noise its yellow
across my face.  The nose protrudes, ridiculous
excrescence.  A leaf half green sweeps up in circles
in the whiteness all around.  A weak chin, think I,
of windy sighs.  Squirrels crack acorns, crunching,
down into a patchy neck.  Very unsatisfactory
remembering winter's almost famine.  The trees --
appearance.  Altogether so.  Oh well.
Quiet.  Steady.  Sturdy.  Oh well.
The mirror reflects, but not uniquely.

Premium Member She Will Miss Me Eye Roll

Please come she urges me; I have attended before.
A high school class reunion which I have never enjoyed.
I will not be enticed to attend another.
The last two were busts, taking me away from my loves.
Poetry, painting, cartooning, and family.

At my age, my exit ticket could get punched at any moment.
How unsatisfactory would it be to get it punched
After spending four hours on the road to and from
people I would not recognize or say “hello to” on a New York street.
I will not be there, I tell her. I have a life to live, minutes that are expiring.
I will utilize every second of my spare time to uplift and nurture myself.
I will miss you she says.
I scoff.
The last three times I have texted to ask when she can talk
she has texted back “I will have to think about it.”

Identity

Life is full of pain
Until he performs something to attain

Each day responds the same
Till the time, is not wakening up to improve the game

Time is flying
Neglecting the fact, remains rented, relying on lying

Aspiring internal peace
Though the truth comes up at fatal fees

Earning enemies each day
As if all are associates enjoying at bay

Unsatisfactory has he become!
Eliminating & Excreting the agonies with rum

The entire day he discusses How is She?
Satirically, sitting solely speculates on Why is he?

More than cleverness
He needs kindness

The obstacle is not society 
It arises when he inaugurates him above almighty

Seeking his redemption
While ignoring integrity amidst inappropriate intervention(s)

Hard Work forever pays
Just he shouldn't forget to self-screening his days

From the sun to the moon, she entered his voyage as a boon
From the moon to the sun, he always made her fun
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Upstaged

Clutching at straws — to be willing to try anything to improve a difficult or unsatisfactory situation, even if it has little chance of success

“And Then He Will Carry Me Away To His Castle, Where We Will Live Happily Ever After.”            Snow White from Disney’s Snow White

“Go on, have a bite”     Evil Queen from Disney’s Snow White

UPSTAGED

I’m caught in mask, witch-green, a cleansing face.
He hooked his chin in mirror’s reflection.
Instead of me -  he sought - his own embrace.
This marriage once a snow-white complexion.

Deciding to wear my wealth of jewels,
my ace high heels, a great big smile, and wink.
I try my bag of tricks from beauty school,
clutching at straws, but he didn’t even blink.

Then he saw me, I’m beautiful once more,
renewed by morning light. His aftershave
a lie - I bite! Left dizzy for encore,
he ends us. His fate’s looking pretty grave.

The magic mirror’s slap upstaged queen’s man.
Knocked into kingdom come— ends princely span.

9/15/2020
Contest - CLUTCHING AT STRAWS
Sponsor - Kai Michael Neumann

howmanysyllables.com used
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Look Up If You Dare

INSPIRED BY THE FILM 
        DON’T LOOK UP

Humanity has become oblivious, ignorant to an inevitable lightening quick catastrophe,
Politicians and the rich and famous are known for their eccentric outrageous audacity,
Nobody has anything nice to say to anyone, anywhere, so totally unsatisfactory,
Each human being doing their own thing like ants, on a mission no more philanthropy.

Scientists work around the clock to save our planet Earth, animals and humanity,
Drugs consumed for fun, medication abused, both lowered humans’ immunity
A pandemic revolved around our globe, thus millions suffered and died, internationally
Scientist who study our galaxy, predict a life threatening event to happen imminently affecting us globally.

Don’t human beings realize that a comet might be coming to town and our planet will be extinct, dive
Into oblivion, the rich and famous will live, it is the poor, the hungry that Humanity will deprive,
The opulent and their money think they can extend their life, and thus forever and ever stay alive,
Build a rocket with capsules for themselves, animated in time, in which they stupidly hope to survive.

Wow, presume encapsulating oneself in time, a rocket in space comes true, and nobody fries,
Arising from the dead metaphorically in 20900 returning to earth, finding things have changed, surprise,
Surprise, no humans inhabit Planet Earth anymore, what will they meet, perhaps their demise,
The Chinese saying, may your wishes come true, actually a curse, hope you have said your goodbyes.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Discontented

Lost.
Lonely.
Full of pain.
He walked up to the church to pray for the first time in over twenty years.
The doors were locked.
When did we start locking church doors?

Confused.
Abandoned.
In need of help.
She entered the psychiatrist’s office seeking professional care.
She had no health insurance and was turned away.
The Hippocratic oath no longer applies.

Destitute.
Hungry.
No money for food.
He tried to donate a pint of his blood.
They no longer offer money in exchange.
The juice and cookie made an unsatisfactory meal.

The slow student sat in the back of the classroom unable to understand the lesson.
The teacher had thirty other students demanding her attention.
She was passed on to the next grade without an education.

He bought a gun at the local Sporting Goods Store in the only civilized country that makes 
this so easy to do.
Seventeen random college students have their lives taken from them far too young because 
he couldn’t cope with the pressures of an unfair world.

I kiss my six year old’s forehead as he lies, peacefully, sleeping in his bed under Spiderman 
sheets, hopeful, that someday, he may make a difference.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.

Elected Rejected

Discrediting plausibility 
by shredding their humility 
to a place of vulnerability 
devoured by inabilities 
cowardice incompetence 
showered into consciousness 
empowered causing confidence 
validation found in compliments 
a false sense of accomplishment 
resort to intense punishment 
to knock down their competitors 
who speak of truth not metaphors 
that could reverse their actual course 
see them falling through floorboards 
far from craved credited applause 
a status low as though blackballed 
on salaries always needing more 
survival gifting no rewards 
a personality to be ignored 
social skills which leave them bored 
testing humans to their core 
needing a win but cannot score 
electrical without a cord 
no plug socket or power source 
as management you were assured 
entitlement had power stored 
defensive walls they reinforced 
the canon fire rains then pours 
constant drainage of resource
when liars reign without remorse 
demonstrate through acts of war 
axing allies no friends of yours 
switching sides ending support 
backtracking and invasions fall 
forward thinking backward thoughts 
two faced fronts fights are fought
defend positions within the fort 
saving supply routes to the port 
lowered standards poor results 
lose respect face the onslaught 
enclosing can’t escape assaults
laced with disgrace of dense insults
unsatisfactory falling short 
the cost of power steeply soars 
run out of bullets fight with swords 
sticks and stones not canon balls 
back to basics of infant schools 
learning how the mighty fall 
turns out you might be a fool 
from the authority you adore 
to unemployed and lost it all 
from big and powerful to small 
once important not anymore 
once arrogant above the law 
apparently now unloveable
a tyrant silenced by rivals 
the outlaw downfall locked indoors 
freedom within the prison walls 
abusing boundaries horribly 
so far beyond authority 
explicitly and vicously 
fully of inefficiency 
faults and inability 
soulless animosity 
dethroned without the sovereignty 
lost lonely in unpopularity.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Doomed To Vanish

What would deem biding our critical concern?
What tolerably deep association would we learn?
Is it fair to firmly assert we utterly understand?
What has loomed and shielded stiff mend?

Do we promptly make every second count?
Is it sprung to say we are doomed to idly die to flout?
Heed the placid quiddity we are endeavoring.
It is drifting us by, oblivious of our lone value levering.

Is it genuine that these requests typically exist?
Because of the way that nobody can be sure?
They overshadow you like a goliath can desist.
It's unsatisfactory what the disposals efficiently are. 

The vista is sorrowful, and the future looks bleak.
We expect a required course yet lack the will to seek.

Written: December 12, 2021
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

The Lad In Me

I found it unsatisfactory sat in a factory
and I guess my hand for guests was no sanctuary,
however the Hilton and Roper Rhodes were jobs I held the most.

I was honest never robbed, 
naturally ran my gob,
wanted girls on my n...…

Some jobs have an immunity,
they're not part of a community,
you or a few never suited me,
and I never aimed for the suit,
always content at the root.

I was a lad doing what lads do,
looking bad as girls I went through,
that's the aim of a lad it's true,
may have looked like a selfish user to you.

I was always out to have fun when I was young,
didn't need a partner or companion, not one,
the victory was a pull and I always won,
walk of shame.... never, I'm proud of what I've done.
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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