"unaccomplished" poems
Nature teaches us our tongue again
And the swift sentences came pat. I came
Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn.
And I seethed with language - Henry at
Harfleur and Agincourt came apt for war
In Ireland and the Middle East. Here was
The riddling and right tongue, the feeling words
Solid and dutiful. Aspiring hope
Met purpose in "advantages" and "He
That fights with me today shall be my brother."
Say this is patriotic, out of date.
But you are wrong. It never is too late
For nights of stars and feet that move to an
Iambic measure; all who clapped were linked,
The theatre is our treasury and too,
Our study, school-room, house where mercy is
Dispensed with justice. Shakespeare has the mood
And draws the music from the dullest heart.
This is our birthright, speeches for the dumb
And unaccomplished. Henry has the words
For grief and we learn how to tell of death
With dignity. "All was as cold" she said
"As any stone" and so, we who lacked scope
For big or little deaths, increase, grow up
To purposes and means to face events
Of cruelty, stupidity. I walked
Fast under stars. The Avon wandered on
"Tomorrow and tomorrow". Words aren't worn
Out in this place but can renew our tongue,
Flesh out our feeling, make us apt for life.
3.4k
XXV
A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne
From year to year until I saw thy face,
And sorrow after sorrow took the place
Of all those natural joys as lightly worn
As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn
By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace
Were changed to long despairs, till God’s own grace
Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn
My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring
And let it drop adown thy calmly great
Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing
Which its own nature doth precipitate,
While thine doth close above it, mediating
Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate.
3.1k
To give up on a dream is thought to be cowardly
But is it not courageous to dismiss one's hopes in order to dream of something new
Is it not bolder to go where no one has been
Is it not more glorious to achieve that which would otherwise remain unaccomplished
Are not dreams nothing more than opportunity
With new decisions facing us every moment
As simple as a choice or as complicated as conviction
Then would it not be remarkable to go against one's beliefs in order to reach the greatness waiting to be conceived
In a world forever changing, forever adapting
With days eternally numbered and opportunities nearly infinite
it would be easier to stick to the familiar
But life is like a simple child's game
If you have nothing to challenge you
What you are, what you're made of, and what you believe
Then it would be lacking of fun with no sense of victory
To choose the difficult path is to choose to live
To live a life of fulfillment, a life of glory
If your dreams ever seem too easy or too simple
Then I implore you, dream again
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 1:07 PM UTC
~for Steve R. & Stephen Y.~
*"two regrets are mine -
not finding you earlier in life when...words would have carved for me a better road, and...not hand-ing you a touch, the perfect tightness-shake of one's hand reserved for fondest friends and the light press on one's back deserved for dearest brothers!"
~~~*
the light press surety of five fingers on one,
oh, what messages it composes, oh, what duty weighty it transmits
dear brothers:
tho this hands-on handoff, this fly-over, is still a
mission unaccomplished,
yet no regrets, please!
men don't overuse superlatives,
what you lovingly uncover in my rocket-verbal Mars probes,
is more telling, more revealing of who you are,
than any hand-tightness shake,
any touching grasp, could e'er convey
yet I promise, forsworn upon the cross
of the north west Pacifico latitude and longitude
a latitude that just happens to intersect
my olden, new english state,
knowing that Interstate 90
a straight transcontinental shot,
and the car keys just an impulse grab away
to tell your arms, your face, your back, our hands,
that when you love my poetry,
you love me,
you friends,
are an affirmation of Pablo Neruda's words:
***"whoever discovers who I am
discovers who you are"***
fondness is not distance constrained,
touching grasps pay no obeisance to time,
the honor of your affection permanent
affirmed and enflamed,
all mine, sublime, to lead my heart,
where to lay hands upon your back,
to realize even more
our single united rhyme
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
Sleep beckons.
I could close my eyes and call it a day.
Lie down and die – maybe dream
Of all that was unaccomplished.
But with dreams there comes no guarantee.
Compensation for dissatisfaction?
Rebuke for procrastination?
There might be none,
Or some that I might not even remember.
Life is meaningless.
We are but sparks: destined to fade away.
This isn't a game, there are no rules.
No prosecution for any infringement.
I choose to while away at a make believe game
With make believe rules.
But I play fair,
Lest I should be judged by me.
I granted myself the liberty
Imparting meaning to my existence.
Meticulously building a façade.
Filling the void that I was born into.
One reckless step and it might all collapse-
Life, rules, beliefs-
A heap of nothingness at square one.
This choice-
The liberator from the drudgery of existence-
Is the one that binds me.
So I force myself to stay awake
For a few more hours each night.
Trying to get the blocks in place.
Convincing myself that what lies ahead is all pleasure.
Will it be reward enough
For all that I have suffered and lost
At my own game?
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
There are at least ten reasons why you are beautiful hidden in the seconds when you are awake and I am asleep.
Something really precious brought us together once or twice, I don’t know what it is, but I’m not gonna ask. … … …
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say when you say everything I feel.
There are at least ten universes worth of beautiful individuality in plain sight, in a hummingbirds flight path from one flower to another.
Here are the rhymes that reason:
You grew up faster than you knew, and you realized that a long time after everyone knew what it felt like to be grown up.
You were given something that not many people have so very early, it shaped you, and you were not sure after that, if it was the world that changed you or vice versa.
My fingers feel separate from my hands to write this. My voice, coming from somewhere else.
You really really really really really really really trust in love to make the right decision, and are terrified to make decisions without that input.
Love can happen with anyone anywhere at any time…but sometimes it only happens once at a time. The less scared you are of it, the easier it is to see in yourself.
Here are the reasons that rhyme:
Everyone changes with seasons
Everyone changes with time
As everyone changes around you
You feel like a stone in a fire
With no arms or legs to hold on with or run
And having done nothing, you’re feeling jaded, and so very tired.
And I believe you can make it on your own (with a little help from the angel on your devil’s shoulder, turning hell into just high water, spilling over a little too much chaos into your day, making your nights a little bit shorter)
And I can see you when you are who you used to be, in a simpler time.
Perception is hard to live with when its constantly being pushed at by people who have agreed to act enlightened because they’re scared of the difference and diversity they face every day they decide to go outside their lonely bedrooms.
Is that what its like to hate the world for giving you a choice?
Find me.
I want to be together with you like a hummingbird and a flower, the factor of time excluded. A moment could be forever, or not. If for just the happening we could live…we could be anything…whether or not we’re tired, or ***** or used, or unaccomplished. Time doesn’t have to shape us if we can shape each other. Like ghosts in books in childrens’ minds, or a hummingbird and a flower, breathing life in deep breaths, together as one.
We could be like one reason
One reason why…
Why ten is just a number
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 9:53 PM UTC
Monkeys staring at the eyeballs in our heads
The forced rope ties tighter and pops out the vein
The process takes a moment but no more than a feather being blown
Sun beams now highlight the velvet hour.
Sand castles keep the sand man guarded and safe
In return, we have another day swallowed by the unaccomplished.
Spirited with a medical remedy
Lovers say a happy goodnight to the days ahead.
String haired figurines on the walls form the decor in this doll house
The rooms sit back to back but remain mostly vacant.
She dances around the room and tries on the attire
Forming the platform for our intimate silent exchange.
The chair pulls down and gravity makes its move
Maps form plans to be affiliated with a higher member
But with refusal, we can sit and add wood to an internal stove
Write stories noticed by no-one living in elegant designed routine.
They say its madness that gets you in the end.
I dont think I agree!
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
I'm gonna be
Ebola for Halloween,
Watch out *******
Burning my popcorn is
The reason I have trust issues.
Being dressed in theme
Quadruples your chance of getting laid.
Nothing makes me feel manlier.
I feel so unaccomplished in life.
Is anyone else afraid of
Ending up alone?
Every other night
I question my choice of major,
If I will be able to get a job.
I have to be successful because
I love expensive ****
When life gives you lemons
You paint that **** gold.
If you're trying to find
A girl on Tinder...
Tinder is pointless.
Virginity drinking game.
Boys in a tent who are waiting,
Can I come in?
Having fun isn't hard when
You've got a library card.
To whoever left a flower on my bike last night,
Reveal yourself so I can
Give you the biggest hug.
That made my day.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Dear dad, so enthusiastic with a lot of dreams,
I, your unworthy son, is here with a request,
You wouldn't understand I know for sure,
You really think you know for me what's best.
I have a tiny question,
Why do you force your unaccomplished dreams on us, your children,
And when we try to race our dreams what do you tell us to do?
Simple as this, just **** 'em.
I try hard to be the perfect child among the millions in this world ,
We both know every one has some cons,
Yet I work pretty hard to be a rose among the rest of them who are like leaves,
Yet you only see my thorns.
Why are you so pessimistic dad when I get my grades and come home,
Why don't you see the positivity in what I've done well in and not get wild?
All I get is a bashing and an assignment,
Common perks of being a 21st century middle-class Indian family child.
And yes dad I am gonna write JEE and NEET and get in a college which you want me to,
And probably also get a masters where you want me to so a good salary companies can give,
But when I'm finally independent to make my decisions I'll have no life left to live.
And if I'm gonna marry the one you've decided for me,
That meant you've decided my entire life I've got ahead,
I'll probably start to love her after sometime,
Yet I'll remember you for all the wrong reasons each time I lie I bed.
And whatever you've done to me dad I do know it's with a good intention,
I don't have a grudge on you because I do understand,
There's a saying "the biggest problems started with the best of intentions. "
Knowing that your still there will still give me a helping hand.
You've given me a lot of values dad,
And these values in me will forever strive,
Please don't get me wrong with what I've just portrayed.
P.S - I love you dad and will always do until I'm alive.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
I am who I'm not
I was who I ain't
everything about me is fake
the multifaceted facade
I'm everything
you think I'm not
i'm life imitating art
since arts imitating life
I'm everything that I write
which is a hoax
a laughable out loud joke dilettante
unaccomplished a novice garbage nonsensical nonsense
Product of my surroundings
Victim to my environment
A sum of the world
so can't take it to heart
where do I start?
Oh life imitating art
Since arts imitating life
I'm everything that I write
Which is a hoax
Just as the world
broke
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
When I look in the mirror I see a failure.
When I look down I see unaccomplished feet and unskilled hands.
I have mentally collected every synonym for disappointment,
Loser, loafer, underachiever.
The worst part is others see it too.
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 1:28 AM UTC
He feels the terrible urgency of aging,
a foreboding, a sense of something
left unaccomplished
which constantly
claws at his thoughts when he should be
enjoying what life he has left.
It's a cautioning
that the time allotted him to find
an answer, to seek fulfillment,
is escaping him.
What has he done with
his life to merit existence on this orb,
to warrant another sunrise,
another soft rainfall?
Such questions go without answer.
--
Sep 30, 2011
Sep 30, 2011 at 9:46 AM UTC
i've been ignoring it
stress seeping
in trembling airways
effects of cortisol
i've been ignoring it
subtle shaking of breath
once constant, once confident
i've been hiding
from a heart hurt
unaccomplished goals became looming dreams again
but like Rome I will pick myself up
I will piece myself together
from resilient rubble
and a blank blueprint
become a beautiful mosaic
Now is the time.
Because I've been ignoring it.
Ignoring it all too long now.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 7:53 PM UTC
Free love is unaccomplished by humanity
dismal
strangers to the union of everything in its completion
capable of congratulating eachother for our beauty
our success of being alive
giving the inspiration to make ourselves thrive
survive
we crave the eyes, the arms of a cleansed spirit
to grasp us tightly
studying our similarities
there are so ******* many of us
dying to hug one another
sensing eachothers sadness
drinking our soul away due to the madness
of it all
it all
the world and its biggest mistakes
taking away the ultimate freedoms
replacing them with work
hard earned money
selfishness
ignorance
replacing the freedom with lies
and we know we are being manipulated
but we do not do a ******* thing about it
I always wonder why this is
Fear
let it be clear to us all
that we are being treated unfairly
as if we are dirt
being brushed away from the shoes
of the ones who keep us shackled
the ones who are unblemished
consoled by ultimate security
let us know one another
let us feel eachothers minds
let us express our love
let us disregard our hate
let us be free
let us be ******* free
we are beautiful
we are equal
only nature owns us
only nature loves us
the authorities have rabies
that are destroying their logic
we are rising with intelligence and awareness of this
I only wish to comfort those who feel they are alone
I am here to protect the sacredness of unity
we are not alone
we are not alone
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
Last Best Shot
July 31, 2020
8:07am
*the morning sunlight. high enough to lighten first café & the future.
warming, mellifluous, biding good tidings, a head, ahead for the day.
sun-in-sky-low, so trees stand taller, shadow-makers, just for now.
grass blotched, pockmarked, alternative hints of hope & mystery.
the bay wave waters stilled, unrolled, unroiled, no-thrashing, omen?
is this wellness? is this a green tea soul and soil infusion, calming?*
*my mind wanders to that remains unaccompanied, unaccomplished.
unwashed breakfast dishes, miles of mail urgently unattended.
poems half-composed, some decomposing, resurrection on the list?
these unwashed word-shards, cry out, if not today, then when?
passerby’s, yachts, kayaks pause, turn, all bow-me-pointing asking?
is today their finale, burial by deletion, or their* last, best shot?
my reflection, neutral-neutered mien in 19oz. Blue Mountain
black coffee, in a Canadian Macintosh porcelain mug, provides
no clue, accident or incident, but inquires: why the adrenaline?
Aug 2, 2022
Aug 2, 2022 at 8:37 AM UTC
There was just something
so deeply enamoring,
that you could not only
see it in her existence,
but you can
feel it in her eyes
as well.
That it did not matter
what anyone
thought,
said,
or believed about them.
That all that it only mattered
was what they had-
and that was love.
There were no need
for words,
they understood each other
fluently with just one look.
And with just one look,
serenity soothed their
soul, mind, and heart.
But he-
he only saw her for how
she truly was:
*Glorious, radiant, spectacular,
and absolutely perfect*
because his perception
of women did not limited
his sight.
He, as a man,
understood quite well
that he had the
responsibility and duty
to assure his woman,
to make her feel,
to make her sense,
that he was not just
captivated,
but intrigued,
in her.
That he was in search
for the depth
of her inner beauty
to the point that it
overwhelmed
all her flaws,
her insecurities,
her fears,
and spark this
wild passion
within her
to want to give her
entire devotion to him.
That she could release
her mind, body and soul.
Entregarse ella misma
so passionately,
so eternally,
to just him and only him.
That she could release
all that beauty that she kept
hidden away.
To finally let someone love
her just for the way she is-
as flawed as she was,
as unattractive as she
sometimes felt,
and as unaccomplished
as she thought she was.
To believe that she had to hide
all the parts
of her that were broken,
out of fear
that someone else was
incapable of loving
what was less than perfect.
How two minds became
infixed with raw love
and tender affection.
Believing that the body
if his woman
was what God promised-
Paradise.
How it should be touched,
how it should be explored
with a rose;
his love.
Caressing her flesh
as though the rose itself
were the wing
of an angel.
He understood
how his woman
should be touched.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
I fall to the ground and sip back the poison
Whimpering while the voices scream at me
"You're worthless, you're fat,
you ***** you piece of ****
you're trapped, stuck here with them
you'll never leave your missery,
the years will pass and so will your life
your meaningless life filled with
unaccomplished dreams and failed promises"
I collapse in a pathetic heap
admitting my defeat to them
taking one last sip
as I reach for the gun to shut them up
once and for all
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
*
It was during a month:
the September dawn
My attention was entirely being drawn
The neck of a desert donkey is strained
After pulling the strong cart remained
Along the sand dunes of the desert land
Carrying the debris of soldiers beyond;
their dead bodies dried by many days
and unable to wrap in any other ways,
their last requests dying unaccomplished.
It was during a month:
The December dusk,
My thought was entirely on the mask
the clouds were made of ashes and rain;
the earth pregnant with its body pain
Is war bringing us any further gain
*
By Williamsji Maveli
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
I take pride
In jeopardizing my life
Unlike monopoly
I have one die
In life
At a time
I
The lucky spender
Received a splendid surprise
The sublime arrived
Just in time
On the night
Before destruction
Yes,
There is a bit friction
In this business
Non-fictional character
Rises in the author
I wrote
The book of the dead
And spread knowledge
On earth’s bed
Now,
I’m denied credit
For risks taken
Instead of a praise
Appraised
For my edgy ways
And found
Guilty of pleasure
I’m
In debt
With the angels
Who lent me
The soul makings
And sent me
On a mission
Which remains
Unaccomplished
In their vision
I am
Sole proprietor
In this business
I have no relations
Trust none
My inquisition
Seems superstitious
When you unravel
My unreal supposition
But suppose
For a minute
That you were in
The opposed position
And posed
With the mind of a menace
Who, sadly,
Never stepped
In the shoes of sanity
Society views your life
As a stain
On earth’s plain
Though, your pain
Seems self-sustained
You were born
Insane
Would be better off
If offered removal
But awful is often
Sought
In the eyes
Of vile beholders
The unnamed soldier
Is the truest
Of them all
Marching down
The broken road
To destiny
The
Know-it-alls
Know nothing
At all
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:57 AM UTC
#*Love stories are not meant to be lived
you know that from the deleted faces
and vanished traces
of the ones once most valuable to you.*
I don't get you I said
*don't I feel a regret
for the women i loved
but was never able to live with
don't they still haunt me*?
Regret is not the word
the man was adamant,
*it's more a mourning for your failure
a tormenting reminder of an undefined deficiency
that you were not up to them
or in the wrath of missing the target
they were not up to you*
and then he fired the killing shot
*what you remember is not the love
years have wiped out the details
leaving you with the embers of unaccomplished missions
which in the first place
you didn't deserve to be a part of*.
I hated his departing words.
*True love lives in the stories
and love stories are not meant to be lived.*#
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
Reminiscences of our future
Things to be, perhaps nostalgically
Who is wishing star's shooter?
Presently mind altering pendantically
Subconsciously forever no honesty
Someplace we never were together
Vicariously our algorithms meet
And I in my mind, with you forever
Though self-hypnosis not complete
Perpetuum delirium I greet
Infinitely brief occurrences
How we do so, what's not sought
Repress outer conscious past tenses
Hidden innermost thought
To table, it is never brought
Who could know the unaccomplished?
You and I, sheer mystery
If it weren't, I so astonished
And you and your word artillery
Slight chance we could change this
history?
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC