I try to move on my free will I have prime aim to attain my goal
not allowing any interference. I'm always decisive
I believe, my life is mine. I choose own path to proceed.
Free Will’ is my priority. Any way I won't support any whims.
Each adverse comment I can ignore. I won't deviate from my motto of life.
My ‘Free Will ‘may be purposeless I stick to my decision .
I won't bother whether ‘Free Will’ harms others My steps to honour my determination.
‘ Free Will ‘ tries to dominate. ‘Determination ‘stands above ‘ Free Will.’
‘ Free Will’ fails to overcome ‘Determination’ Self confidence is focused on Determination’ I wish to live under shadow of ‘Free Will’ . Life is based on Determination’.Next comes ‘Fee Will’
i am stuck at the bottom of a well i dug with my own hands
the stain from dirt on my nail beds
is too embedded to be cleansed
ablution wont be found here
a purposeless place too sunken for sustenance to fill
water is too pure and too righteous to visit me here
i befriend the cracked walls and we trade stories of misery
rain has forgotten to fall at my feet like she used to
the sound of quiet has been silenced by the weight of my past
burdening me with a tune of melancholy
“what say you, dear friend? will you stay by my side or will you let the lion die?
its hunger, coating you in arrogance
unwilling to accept your nature
the people no longer rest here, and the water that once lived here has ascended back into the sky
yet only you, my dear friend have found comfort in the nothing i have become”
the voice croaked and dry, lonely walls who comfort an unstable mind
Snow flurry
Furious hurry
Battering against my skin
It’s artificial
Shavings off something real
The cold would have been less cutting
Whirling soundless wind
I’m upside down
With no direction within grasp
Until I’m allowed to fall down again
Nobody to stop the descent
The settling never lasts long before
An invisible hand, cruel or indifferent,
Shakes and shakes and shakes
Upheaval
Nothing to cling to
Just swirling, purposeless
Three things to see, when I don’t focus on me:
Others caught in the cacophony
Beyond a veil of thick glass, lights twinkling dimly
In the dead centre of the violence, a baby.
Small, a fixed point in it all
Promises and secrets plainly hidden
Steady face, symbol held in place
Though naughty hands tried to break him
So let it snow!
Let it all go.
I am dancing
Knowing nothing
Discovering Everything
Receiving that which is never shaken
CUATRO-- SANDCASTLES
Category: QUATRAIN
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Date: October 9, 2025
purposeless purpose
constructed in wash away sand,
ruled by wind and waves
my life an ebbing tide circus.
At three, the garden writes itself in slime—
silver calligraphy across the flagstones
where I pace in my wool habit, sweating.
The moths are frantic priests
hurling their small bodies at the lamp’s false sun,
again, again, a liturgy of burning.
I used to call this Devil’s hour.
Now I know there is no Devil,
only the slug’s blind pull toward rot,
the cartography of appetite
mapped in mucus on the path
where saints once walked to Matins.
The hostas are being eaten.
Something is always eating.
I watch a moth singe its wing-dust on the bulb—
that powdery baptism, useless—
and drop stunned to the stones
where a slug begins its pilgrimage across the corpse.
This is the only honest prayer:
mandibles working in darkness,
the chemical shimmer of a slug’s foot
seeking the soft meat of decay.
No one is listening. No one was ever listening.
The garden teaches me its single lesson—
matter consuming matter,
the world folding into itself
like hands at vespers, purposeless,
perfect. The moths know
what I am only learning:
light is not love. Light is just light,
and we are who burn for.
When the seed of fear is planted in minds,
It germinates in brains as a tormentor—
Sometimes sown by a whisper,
a shadow,
a lie repeated twice.
When illusion becomes reality,
And starts by making the heart
skip a beat,
then more of its beats,
then all of its beat.
It creates monsters in our eyes in the dark,
Born from our own imaginations.
And it can make them fly,
swirl,
drawl,
crawl,
and do anything—
Make our hairs stand on end,
Our feet walk on eggshells,
on a slippery slope.
It can crimp us into a shrimp.
When it creeps into our grip,
It brings a nice gift of heebie-jeebies—
That send us on a purposeless,
directionless meander,
Like a chicken with head just severed
and left unrestrained.
Fear teaches our hands to fight,
And reaches our legs to take flight,
But it’s never patient to judge us right,
Even when fear is out of sight.
When the seed of fear is well tendered,
Fear can even make us no longer
fear fear.
When its taproot has eaten deep
into the hypothalamus,
Then the mind is already gnawed by monsters
That, time and again, we created
out of nothing.
Am I walking through Ways of Providence ?
or walking just to struggle on my own !
I am confused , also amused to sense
reality ! Am I guided or lone ?
Are pre- scheduled all the happenstances !
Am I instructed by Divine Power ?
Is there a supreme strength to embower ?
Or, I surrender to circumstances !
Does Divine Guidance fabricate my fate ?
Then life will turn purposeless - meaningless.
No use of brain -mind-soul to navigate.
Just to be flooded , careful or careless.
How can you define , what is Providence ?
It's Supremacy in your soul to stay.
On Moral Values , carry Reverence.
Ways of Providence will be shown, I say.
‘Alas ! My heart had to leave its treasures at sides of path of Life to end
at ‘ Death’. - Poet
In last phase decrepit heart to mourn.
All achievements turned obsolete.
Once seeds of confidence were sown.
Now strength of mind is deleted.
No time to rectify mistakes.
In last phase decrepit heart to mourn
Burnt desires to fly in ash flakes.
Only despondency is shown.
In senile decay hope is blown.
Purposeless life to drag in vain.
In last phase decrepit heart to mourn.
No bonding left, nothing to gain.
Case for my ‘LIFE ‘ is still pending -
My ‘TIME’ is up ! Court is adjourned.
Life to meet obvious ending.
In last phase decrepit heart to mourn.
Sententiousness I seriously cannot bear
Just picture the gruesome scene
When the true blues ten in a row will capture
Seen by many as a purposeless pursuit
Such grim moments see us drop our defences
To give meaning to our existence
And yet who can ever be sure and rightly know
Where the dues of poetry must be fully paid
But,thank God,the memories will remain
I can reflect upon what it all meant
1)BEGONE DULL CARE
2)TRICK OR TREAT
3)THE SECOND COMING
4)PANTA REI OUDEN MENEI
5)PANDEMIC PANACEA
6)THE BOOK OF DUST
7)CRUSHED
8)THE WILDERNESS YEARS
9)EVEN OUR HEROES GROW OLD
10)PERSPECTIVE
This is the story
in which I die
and come back to life
I thought it was over
I felt powerless,
purposeless
but I of course discovered
the opposite side of the coin
I gave up, almost
from the highest roof
I’ve had in this city
I could have flung myself
I didn’t do it,
I couldn’t be like he was
Instead I was brave
I called a number
told someone
got help
a three day
suspension
from the real world
can be more helpful
than I knew
every cell in my body
heaved
I swallowed my last breath
learned
to sink into the emotion
deeper and deeper
and deeper I sank,
down through the ice cap
miles thick of the trauma I froze in
down, down
into the waters below
I learned every feeling is allowed
and once I learned that,
the process of completion
could begin
Born into sin,
Was I the next of kin?
Pain and agony arrived,
Yet I could have moved on,
unlike Lot's wife.
Was this His plan?
To make my life feel purposeless?
No, I got it all wrong;
it was to make me understand
His faithfulness.
All He did was to teach me
how great He is.
Time and time, I'd spend my life
blaming, instead of facing Him
and seeing the bigger picture,
which I couldn't figure.
Yet again, He proved
that He was before I was.
Who am I to point fingers
when I couldn't stay faithful
to my word, listening to what I heard
instead of what He said?
I failed to do the one thing He asked:
to follow His will.
And yet He chose me still,
because He was before I was.
The Picture on the wall , hanging
almost half a Century back !
A family photograph
taken next to my wedding day :
Once so valuable, now turned purposeless.
Getting faded, lacking polish , losing charm.
Photo showing parents and Grandma
with newly married bride- groom.
Every one in jolly mood and fresh looks.
Bright bride now approaching eighty.
Rest members have passed away.
Old lady and the picture on the wall
are still existing .
Old lady to expire soon :
Children are settled abroad.
Residence will be sold at earliest.
The picture will settle in
the trashbin.
The chase never slows, it only repeats
Running in circles, chasing defeat.
Like pouring into a cup that leaks
Our pockets never stay complete.
The quest for riches, a human plight
A plunge into endless, sleepless nights.
For every goal, for every gain
We crave the next, in endless strain.
As time slips through our weary hands
We race past life’s fleeting sands.
So busy chasing golden dreams
We miss the sunset’s gentle gleam.
And then we wake, with dusk near
The truth so clear, we feel the fear.
For all the riches we pursue
We lost the life we never knew.
That’s the irony of a purposeless life
We care so much for shining gold
By the little we have, we forget to truly live
Until the joke is all that’s left to give.
I think you locked the access
To the mail box you kept
For my emails, and that was
A necessary act
You didn’t mean to hurt
You meant to drop the load
That purposeless alerts
The emojies absurd
The messages of sweetness
Whereas in real sense
You think to fight the weakness
With meds of more intense
You need more concentration
And I was a dead weight
A stealer of attention
Who comes to talk too late
And this obsessive care
And obvious advising
Was more than you could bear
In terms of compromising
So you just kicked me out
And you felt no remorse
Cause it was all about
Saving a time resourse
You’ve patched up all the holes
The first thing that you did
Was blocking of the calls
Soon after you got rid
Of everything that could
Remind of my existence
Because it is no good
Considering the distance.
a
minimalistic
purposeless
play
in
a
wake-up
call
chaos
affirmed
in
the
absence
of
sound*
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.