#unsolved
Seems I have found you again, stranger.
Leering at the park, for my party
You say a few words, and give your gift
I’m always surprised when you appear
Since you’re always tardy, but at least you’re here like I had wished
You’re an enigma, you’re a puzzle
Not much charisma, your words are muddled
But you’re special to me
A unique mystery I want to solve
Alas, stranger, you think it’s you in which the world revolves
And soon this mystery devolves into misery
Because no matter where I put the pieces
They are always disturbed
You return to the shadows as you were
And I start from square one again
Wishing I had learned where I placed the pieces
Though this riddle was never fair
And you’ll never stay no matter how quick I reach
Into the shadowy, dark abyss where you are
I will count and treasure the mere minutes you spent,
And reset my puzzle pieces…
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 3:04 PM UTC
~
The boys of summer.
Johnny once sat under the bleachers, the scar on his tongue, a reminder of the time he bit it after falling from a treehouse. A sack full of yesterday's news in a red wagon, the first and last clues.
Eugene ... the other kid who dropped out of sight on Sunday morning, now the evening edition; now a black spot on the sun.
Why the two-year gap?
Departures and landfalls. But no explanations.
Mom and Dad never comfortable peering into the camera lens. Big brother breathing out vapors until something sparks and all
the old questions came back.
A detective's paradox. No bone. No fragment. No evidence. In his home garage hangs a poster of Eugene to remind him every day.
-- for Johnny Gosch and Eugene Martin
~
Feb 2, 2025
Feb 2, 2025 at 10:43 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, never knew before:?
mind fluttered
heart triggered
or was it the opposite?
to not feel
is constantly abandoning the real
or was it overthinking?
white sun
yellow moon shun
or was it the lamp in my room?
exclamation mark
question bark
or was it me confused?!
flames left turned in hurt
backs flared then burnt
or was it them that slammed the door?
now a missing bone
from an unsolved puzzle all alone
-----ravenfeels
Jul 2, 2021
Jul 2, 2021 at 11:48 AM UTC
The reason for wet cry is all based on our way of feeling and attitudes towards emotion
Do you think everyone should be alive and kicking as always (Maybe?
The sweetest part of life is the fact humans as going on a journey of no return.
We are used to travelling and returning to the living world.
what happened, when you go and don't come back into the land of the living or lost your way in the road path to your being?
The dead ones are not interested in your life but what, if they care about who comes into their world and leaves
I think they will be surprised by the fact spirit comes into their world and return while they are shocked in the realm of no return.
I will share my experience about the dead world" I was around my friends, family and colleagues in this world as my phone was forgotten due to I left it in a shop for charging in my area; so I ran back to try to get it before someone else steal it from the place.
I noticed my footwork was so fast and furiously moving faster than bikes and caress wheels as closer to where I kept my phone ...
A moving car tried to hit me but I missed it and discover my body began elevating into the sky.
I could perform different types of moves without my legs on any surface, I looked down and saw people I knew on earth calling my name
I knew it was no longer a valid story could be my Death world taking me for final judgment
I refuse to go into the heavens cloud but returned to spend time with the living world who can see or feel but not touch them "
You think!!! "Next life is bad but it's peace, joyous and wonderful, due to no hate, no enemies, no fights, towards"
There I a similar existing factor in the DEAD world and LIFE world is boundaries between countries and territories
The reason for pain is temporary but the love is eternal.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 2:50 AM UTC
The Owls are Watching
In memory of Helen Martins
'The Owl House'
Nieu Bethesda, South Africa
In sculpture and rock rested your art
Cement faces that speak volumes
Of emotions and tales untold
As mysterious as your life itself
Glittering walls of crushed glass
That shone by candlelight
Outside of art you were branded
Though remembered as unique and ahead of your time
With big glass eyes the owls watch the world
What was once your sanctuary
Now a showcase to the world
Recognized at last
Unspeakable loneliness of a soul misunderstood
Now your handwritten letters are framed and displayed for all to read
But you don't mind the curiosity of mankind
With cement hands raised to the heavens facing the east
You drank your chosen cup
Your Mecca now complete
_____
Written by Sean Achilleos
28 March 2016©
_____
How this poem came about:
I was a visitor to the Owl House Nieu-Bethesda South Africa in 2015. Approximately, one year later I was inspired to write a poem about the late great Helen Martins. I was intrigued by the eccentricity of this woman.
One evening while in my living room and enjoying a glass of wine, my eye caught the cement owl in my windowsill which I had purchased outside the Owl House from a vendor. I saw its big blue glass eyes glaring at me. At the time I was listening to a Jennifer Ferguson record, and decided to write while the music was playing. Once I had completed the poem I felt exhausted. Then a very strange phenomena occurred, the lights went off for a few seconds and came back on, unlike a power surge. It reoccurred a second time that same evening, and never since. It felt like a supernatural intervention. As far fetched as it may sound, it seemed like Mrs. Martins had personally given her approval of the poem. I then decided to email it to the official Owl House website. I didn't think much would come of it. However, they embraced the poem and were generous enough to display it on their official Website for a number of years under a section titled "A Visitor's Perspective".
https://g.co/kgs/BPyx1U
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 7:58 AM UTC
there are only two genders
trans is not real
are you a boy now?
i would be open to experiment, though
you need to have your brain checked
what are you?
unsolved.
i am unsolved.
an unsolved puzzle,
equation,
mystery,
rubik's cube,
mirage,
the horizon.
everything you can't figure out at first glance,
something you have to squint at to understand.
but i don't need solving,
i don't need understanding,
i don't need to keep explaining.
i am me,
i am unsolved,
and i am happy.
Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC
People walking out
I walk out too
I seeked other people
Few to talk to
Few just to comfort
And another wanted me
May be my body.
But none were 'You'
I missed you
I seeked you
And no replies
from you!
What are you made up of?
You show your extreme care for me
But never tell me I love you
I waited for seasons
Still do, thinking whether it's just
A friendship or something beyond that.
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 11:08 PM UTC
What did you do?
What did you see?
How did you end up
inside a tree?
Were you a spy?
A harlot? A witch?
Or the victim of a mad-man
scratching an itch?
Tell me lady,
what was your story?
Who was after
your Hand of Glory?
Why were you taken,
from this mortal realm?
Who put Bella
in the Wych-Elm?
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 7:00 PM UTC
Into the dark alley
It lures its prey
By acting dead
Laying on the sideway
Recent news alerts
Of missing people lately
But none found alive
While they disappeared secretly
No signs of blood spurts
Yet rumors spread up quickly
No signs of decap bodies
But the atmosphere turned sickly
A homunculus out in the night
Feeding on people as it's prey
Visible in the nights shadow
While hiding from the suns ray
Or maybe a chupacabra sneaking
From those mythical histories
Creatures of the dark
Unsolved mysteries...
©sim
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
In the beginning, everything was normal.
He picked me up, wearing a suit and bow tie,
We drove through town in his red car.
His dark blue eyes reminding me of the night sky
When the light shown into them making stars.
I think I am in love. We keep driving.
Down the interstate ramp, going at least ninety.
Into the night we fly, town after town.
Finally, he takes an exit into a small town.
He took me to a motel, threw me on the bed.
Cut my arms open, and did the same
To what lay under my flower dress.
He stuffed me like a doll, with pieces of himself.
We stained the sheets with *** and blood.
"I'll take care of you forever," he said.
My head goes soft. I know what's coming.
He flips me to my stomach, hand around my throat,
I feel his body pressed against mine.
I claw at his arm, trying to get him to let go.
His grip tightens, my breath is nearly gone.
All goes black. As I awake I notice a red light.
And motion. He's taking me somewhere.
The motion stops, the red lights turn off.
The trunk opens, I look up into his face.
I try to speak, to ask why, but no sound comes out.
He lifts my body from the trunk, crazy in his eyes.
He whispers, "We're the same, no control."
My head lolls back, too exhausted to hold it up.
He sets me in a bed of pine needles and mud.
I watch him walk away, close my eyes.
I hear the footsteps return, open my eyes.
I am squinting into the barrel of a gun.
Bang.
I feel the life drain from my body.
My soul is floating, my mind drifting into the black.
I relax into the earth.
He waits until my breathing slows to a stop.
I have lain here for days,
The sun quickening the rotting of my flesh.
My ribcage holds dirt and weeds,
My limbs are dead and dried.
No one has come to listen to my story,
But I know without a doubt, someone will come.
They will hear me. They will help me.
They will search for answers.
I know someday justice will be served.
I will be found.
And so will he.
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
why would someone
fit the same old piece
again and again
at the wrong place
without knowing
how huge the puzzle is
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 5:25 AM UTC
No weapon found,
Not an evidence around,
It is a ****** surely,
Done out of unknown fury.
The case becomes history,
But still remains a mystery.
The statue of limitations is in a few days,
And thus it will become a cold case.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
As the clock struck O'clock
and my FB account soon sets out
my phone ready to beep
After getting his alarm note
I had drown into the dark sea
Under blanket.
I dream of dreaming unicorns
But the state convulses me
Into an undefined ratio.
And as I free my eyesfor their
Long struggle to open,
I see the everday ceiling
Yet Yesterdays seem an
empty space for me!
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
Labyrinth of memories
Hue of different colors
Swathe the lonely corridor
It’s a sacred place, within
Now and then I tend to visit
More vivid portraits of the past
Present and future are lost pieces
Here, the puzzle is unsolved
Because of the missing pieces
Destined this soul is
To walk the lonely labyrinth
No road ahead, it’s a cul-de-sac
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
It looked like a bright lit morning.
She was awake and avoided frowning,
A sleep of five more minutes,
Could have made the day seem finite.
Wet boots and a beige coat,
Hung awaiting a sunny day ahead.
Blinded by million thoughts in riot,
She scanned in haste her heavy mind.
Sirens rang in symphony afar,
Reminding her to close the door ajar,
She had her clipboard and note,
Waiting for her ride to the station.
Brand new case remained out in the open,
A little boy had been violently murdered,
This was not one not two but a total of seven,
Worried parents of runaways harboured around.
Who could it be stared the white board?
Who has the absence of heart to commit this deed?
Subordinates blanked with only dead-end,
Clues were nil and everybody drew a blank instead.
But there was something in common,
Faces of children expressed utter calm.
Were they lost in a wondrous dream?
Seventh child yet unclaimed waited in vain.
She looked on for hours together,
Until she had a brain wave to ponder deeper,
Off she took her police motorbike,
To the drug peddlers and ruffians she had to seek.
Had she seen this boy earlier?
Around the red light of a traffic signal,
With his eyes raining clouds of heavy shower,
Just doing his part to get two square meal.
Questioning all around downtown,
Where runaways gathered upon,
Boys, girls, young adults in their teen,
Rugged, ***** but in need of touch very humane.
She wondered about the mayhem!
Were their choices made for them?
She realised all the seven missing ones,
Had once worked for a scrawny girl.
To let go her doubts,
For this reminded her once failure to close,
A case so horrific that gave her the nightmares.
She took her partner in search of the girl,
Off they rode on the horizon,
For minutes, for hours until dawn,
To find the deserted family in ruin.
Questions, answers, clues were collected,
And a revelation was horrifically found,
A girl in the midst of a family so profound,
Was assaulted, abused, ***** and her innocence robbed.
Until with an ounce of courage and vengeful mind,
She ran away till her legs no longer could.
On her trail did they follow,
To town after town astonishingly mellow,
Leaves on the paths so yellow,
Reminded of her horrid days that had made her shallow.
They followed with deep angst,
The stories that unfolded cried screams of disgust,
All her victims abused and mutilated,
As she laid the stones of thirst and distrust.
The trail stopped and kills ended,
Had she stopped for good?
Or taken a break to pray give authorities a ride?
Days, months, years passed.
The case picked dust as expected.
Yet another bright lit morning,
And a child had gone missing,
Was she back and killing?
As the police bagged the wet boots and a beige coat!
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC