When I came home from a long walk, my door was a little open.
I thought you had shown up to talk, but then I felt more heartbroken
As I thought you wouldn't, for how cruelly I spoken.
The first gnome to vanish was the autumn one, The one with the pumpkins and ghosts. He was the one that made the holiday bright. The decoration we cherished the most.
Now, everyone knows gnomes have a habit of traveling, though, you’d think they’d stay true to you. Imagine my surprise, when I later realized that the rest of the season’s gnomes vanished, too.
Then, one afternoon, they came marching back in a long miraculous line. In disbelief, I rubbed my eyes.
For you see gnomes are very perceptive, they notice when a loved one is missing from home. And yes, they had gone out to fetch him, and there he was, walking in with the gnomes.
Crying comes when I turn tender
for framed faces under glass caress-cleaned
while whimsical mind measures
shift sadly towards lonely longings
heart held for family.
Tears task their deaths to my well worth
with wee sobs shaking my gleaned grace.
Will I, grey sky drear,
e'er see her again?
Blue skies disappear.
Blue eyes feel the pain
as they shed a tear
of November rain.
Through grey rainfall,
The rose cannot see the sun,
But time still calls
And alone it must grow on.
Yet shrouded in the shadow
Of grim well-worn roads,
Stars shine bright,
Their gold light,
On a lone budding rose.
I’m at the end of long trip, my daughter,
For, mine is a tired old ship, my daughter.
May God give you power to bear, my daughter,
And for that doom’s day equip, my daughter.
I’d dreamt, I’d play with my kid all the time,
But now my energies dip, my daughter.
It’s time, you get used to world without me
As I begin to lose grip, my daughter.
As I prepare to leave, remember this:
Let my thoughts sink with life’s ship, my daughter.
______________________________
Ghazal | 26.09.2026| daughter, father, life, missing you
Happy Heavenly Birthday, Dad, you would be 100 today - I miss you like a ghost misses heartbeats.
~
midst all of heaven's blessings
my treasures, known and had
not one can best the miracle
that fate made you ... my dad.
I love you, RT.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
Years have passed since we walked this shore,
Kissed by countless waves and more;
Embedded are your footprints still—
No tide can erase, nor sands can fill.
Months have passed since you left this room,
Yet still there lingers your perfume;
Embracing each corner, a trace of your presence,
A cherished reminder of your enduring essence.
Weeks have passed since I last heard your voice,
A recording replayed in memory and choice;
Each word you spoke still echoes clearly,
Like a whisper breathed into my ear so dearly.
It was just yesterday when I last saw you,
Through a framed smile, your face I knew;
I can still trace each speck and line—
A face that will never fade with time.
WE'LL BE AGAIN
I lie awake
You walk alone
I hear your steps
Though you have gone
A last, Amen
Where all things end
A prayer, the night
Let dark descend
"We'll be again"
"We'll be again"
Ancient wisdom,
Gives modern heroes,
What if not house nor ship?
What if our universe is merely a snowflake
Within a snow globe on God’s desk
And we think of ourselves as the center
When we are noticed but not the winner
Of first place for the superior species race
What if we get shaken up by His hands of love
As a reset for all the crime and corruption
The rainbow in the sky a divine sign
Of a powerful intervention a show of mercy
A chance to heal and be revealed as worthy
The first chapter was light and creation
Of a system of stars bigger than ours
And the beauty of the black sea of skies
Can be seen as God’s personal canvas
With the last page a power play missing
A FLOWER BEYOND RARE
Your hair
How it falls
Like water's churning call
Your eyes without care
A windowless wall
Your lips
Soft sincere
A flower beyond rare
To me you are all
And to all
None compare
Dark brooding pall
Mirrored, frost, and fair
Your flesh
Never touched
Such I'd never dare
Drain away the blood
I lay awake and wear
Wane away the pain
I lay blame and bare
Written: September 17, for a contest sponsored by: John Lawless
***********
I flipped the book with a steady hand,
chapters etched as runes into the sand.
The tale was tangled, the lead crowned,
beyond, silence fell, no closing to be found.
The final leaf had vanished, sly and fleet,
perhaps devoured by some voracious beet.
Or maybe scribes, with quizzacious delight,
slipped it away to prank the sleepless night.
I searched the margins, parsed each crabbed line,
for clues the author left in sly design.
A smudge, a doodle, statice pressed in place—
but no denouement, no triumphant grace.
So now I tell the tale with aplomb:
the villain married, bought a stately home.
The hero tripped, repined, then took a nap—
the dragon joined a choir, and learned to rap.
And if you ask what moral can be spun,
I’ll say: beware a most distant sun.
For endings hide, as frenemy or ghost—
the last page missing always laughs the most.
Some people point a finger
at my face and ask,
“Is that really your body?”
I say, “Oh, come on.
Why would that be my body?”
That is nothing but
an old, weathered mansion.
Once, it was bright and gleaming,
polished, immaculate.
Now, it stands on the verge of ruin.
Banyan saplings push through
the cracks of its crumbling plaster,
while bats and house snakes
have made their homes within.
But what can I do?
There is no other way.
I have now
put that ruin
on my body
and wear it as my own.
Across the twilight sky,
astride a mad horse
racing through the clouds,
I am, after all,
nothing but
a missing horseman.
I'm laying here tonight
In the bed we used to share
Looking at your side hurts
Without you it's so bare
I pull your pillow close to me
But you scent is gone too
As tears roll down my face
My heart breaks again missing you
It hurts a little extra knowing
You leaving is because of me
This burden I'll carry forever
I deserve all this misery
I don't deserve happiness
That fact should be known
I deserve this life of regret
That I'll forever spend alone
Missing Categories
Read wonderful missing poetry on the following sub-topics:
best friend, christmas, dad, death, father, friends, for her, for him, grandma, i miss you, love, mom, mother, someone you love, someone,
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Definition | What is Missing in Poetry?
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