"uncompleted" poems
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
34.9k
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard
there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging
somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth
there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach
there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance
there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
Feeling unattractive
I blame the mirror
Feeling my voice is cracking
I blame the radio
Feeling no one is clapping
I blame the show
Feeling the weakness
I blame your sweetness
Feeling like I'm falling
I blame boys
Feeling like lost in love
You're the one I blame
Feeling like a trash
I blame society
Feeling empty
I blame happy people
Feeling uncompleted
I blame lovers
Feeling like no one is right
Feeling like I'm unwelcomed
Feeling super suicidal
I don't blame the blade
I blame myself
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
(Pompeii/Florence, 1997)
Vulcan was real, alive as you were,
you and your language, long dead now.
Your town was prosperous, with its paved streets,
bars, bath-houses, brothels,
mosaics, painted walls, graffiti.
Your domestic gods too were real to you;
they had saved you before,
and when the superhuman hammer blows shook
your houses, you repaired them,
decorated in greater splendour,
erected a temple to your protectors.
But Vulcan was not appeased - years are not long
to the lord of earth and fire.
This time he struck swiftly, sending you death
from his mountain, overwhelming you
as you ran. Your garden
gave you no protection,
hot fumes choked you,
hot ash surrounded you,
sealed in your tomb as you died.
The ones who excavated your town
marvelled at its completeness,
and in the ash that filled your garden
they found hollows.
Filling the hollows with plaster,
they found . . . not you,
but echoes of yourselves,
like statues in a museum.
We came to see you, and after that
to the Academy, standing in awe
at David's perfect marble humanity.
But we were troubled by the others,
the uncompleted ones, the Prisoners,
their twisted limbs, hidden faces,
frozen in the act of emerging
from the stone, recalling too painfully
in their unfinished creation
your own agonised poses
as you died.
*"I had seen birth and death,
but had thought they were different."*
.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
I stopped
inside a light house
on a dark and foggy night
and in the beacon
in the fog
I saw far too many sights.
Lovers lost in their pasts
uncompleted tasks
of shoulda coulda wouldas
"If only's"
blocking their
paths.
The ferrel human beings
with eyes of gold
but no money
to buy a room
running to nowhere soon.
The poetry outlaws
with no words
left to sing
lost within their prisons
and know one knows
what they mean.
The beacon flashed
and in the light
I saw those
trapped in drudgery
and fading dreams
of being free.
And lonely souls
in darkened rooms
of four white walls
with no where to go
and no one coming that they know.
The beacon flashed
in that fog
the horn it rang
to no one listening
but the ships lost at sea
heard something
but asked themselves
was it really meant for me?
It
Spotlighted lovers
on the far sides
of the bed
their love lost
in what is now
misery and dread.
Wage slaves breathing toxic air
and what's this life for
their breath asks
captured in the foggy air.
Stopped at that lighthouse
to look out at that foggy sea
was all about the poetry
and what it means to me
a light
on a foggy
populated sea
and
life told in scenes
about
those who struggle to be free.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 9:55 AM UTC
Labor with what zeal we will,
Something still remains undone,
Something uncompleted still
Waits the rising of the sun.
By the bedside, on the stair,
At the threshhold, near the gates,
With its menace or its prayer,
Like a medicant it waits;
Waits, and will not go away;
Waits, and will not be gainsaid;
By the cares of yesterday
Each to-day is heavier made;
Till at length the burden seems
Greater than our strength can bear,
Heavy as the weight of dreams
Pressing on us everywhere.
And we stand from day to day,
Like the dwarfs of times gone by,
Who, as Northern legends say,
On their shoulders held the sky.
2.4k
the beep beep makes me hardly do sit up
with some skins about to crack
open the laptop. write half of it
and cry over uncompleted tasks
wearing the clothes that is all black
******* snow, extremely ****** me up
The class is draining me so I’m gonna skip it
Stuck in the mindset thats make me wanna go basking
In the bed where I can fully go dreaming
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 8:57 PM UTC
She ran
She ran towards the uncompleted music room
She stood at the corner with her red dress
The corner where the tall windows were
The corner where the piano was
With a touch, she played her heart
Her heart of cries
The music room was complete with her tears
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
We played blackjack taco until the early mourning sun singed the obsidian sky into submission
singling the onslaught of dawn rising like ravishing wildfire over a horizon of jagged glacier crafted mountains peaked with diamonds coal and gold
We flipped stacks and stacked flips
Pushed coins and collected IOUs
Spilled ink and broke pens
Too many hours in the Night Jazzing about youth and the repercussions of aging in a time when aging was an agonizing sin we cured with creams and needles
The table was deliberately a mess with scattered tea leaves half smoked sticky icky sticks full of inspired inspirations, drained drank empty wine bottles and other alcoholic deviances, and incoherent ramblings cauterizing the senses
uncompleted poems full of scribbled and scratched out words poke out from anyplace not covered by crumpled origami cash resting like a weird paper green zoo of swans frogs and paper airplanes.
The suns rays manage to find that one area in between the window shades and curtains to shine brilliantly into our darkly kept stygian tomb
Illuminating a night of lexicon ****** broken handed betting, and passion only poets and writers aspire to conquer
We rubbed out our sleepless crusted eyes and gathered our ink stains and haunted dreams and left into the morning that we found in some skeletol low rent motel room on the side of this deserted desert highway...
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
puffed out chest, ignorant, aggressive, and far too conceited
these are the traits of a man whose biggest fear is looking defeated
to admit fault and apologize is the same as having retreated
one can't debate these fools as the arguments will soon become heated
and odds are if you keep this up you're bound to be maltreated
it's like their brains are underdeveloped; functioning yet uncompleted
they don't learn from lawful punishment and the behaviour is repeated
my patience with some people is really becoming depleted
if only there were an ethical way to have some of them deleted
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
the smell of this place
will soon fade at the back of our minds
each thought & memory
will soon be broken into uncompleted lines
one day we will find our feet back
walking the ground where you first fell in love
touching the halls that are now a different hue
to see if they've forgotten you
tales of fairy & lore
will soon be covered with dust
your firsts and lasts
will soon all be eaten by rust
the place of our childhood
though many years have grown
its ceilings may decay
but it will always love to be your home
the trees may bend and left forgotten
hidden behind tall buildings & lampposts
most of what you left behind
will soon all be ghosts
familiar faces with unfamiliar scents
they wont expect you to stay same
tight bonds will melt into loose ends
and they will forget your name
my name isn't carved into something historical
all of this will be washed by the rain
how bittersweet it is
to travel down memory lane
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 9:14 AM UTC
*I want to embark on a quest
Thats is long to conquest
Just like a voyager on a mission
To fulfil his vision
I just want to go
Where no other chap has gone
Go miles and miles
And seek devine intervetion
From oldies for protection
To fight the cancer of CORRUPTION
I want to embark on a journey
To end lovers of money
Establish new regime
And the war begins
The common light skinned citizens versus the "big fish"
Living in extreme poverty
Hungry and thirsty
Uncompleted projects
Lie everywhere in the country
With promises to be kept
Yet the saying broken
Its a matter of tyranny of numbers
To put an end to this era
Unending decades of lies
Yet you abide to the ties?
Feels like drowned in mollasses
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
A colorful, blinking lantern
dangles by the eave's ceiling
green, red and yellow lights hung
outside the window, stilled at day time
but......dazzle the eyes at night
i am late... no pots of poinsettia
yet, to brighten the veranda
in the living room
the tree top is bare,
no pretty angel or a bright star
to complete its attire
mind is already set, decided, on what
festive foods should adorn the table
what gifts...to be laid under the tree
........all these occupy my mind,
........as every once in a while
i think of unfinished issues,
uncompleted tasks that nag me
.......problems i could not resolve
.......a few unfulfilled promises
.......to some....and to myself
some planned moments...failed
my targeted time....didn't work
Christmas eve is fast approaching
the house...is not yet fully decked...
i am standing.....and though i think of
these thoughts of incompleteness,
after all these years,
i don't care that much anymore
i just wish, it would be easy and slow
when things, or people have to go
i wish that love would abound,
to never cease.....the fires of anger
and hate, be doused and subdued....
i wish that all, including myself,
find wisdom in the serenity prayer...
i wish that we shift our eyes, our hearts,
away from material things...from power...
let us focus on Him...the true reason
for this festive holiday season......
may peace reign the world over
may it begin with you...and me...
::::::::::
Prayer of Serenity
God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference...
:::::::::::::
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 12:28 AM UTC
no demonstrations have been given, and we are falling through the flat lines. A comfort drive through overcast alleyways. complaints of brightened days and open shades. this pipe dream has carried us this far, and i am running faster than our imaginations. this has always been a set-up. a display. i bite my tongue for fear of flying. we hold hands because we're cold. these sentences don't form paragraphs. empty shells encased in gold. desperate vengeance against our bitter halves, assumptions of a frame of mind. Bodies trembling; lack of stimulation erasing those traces we left on that cold night....these cold nights now only taste bitter. From a solid to a liquid we've quickened our reaction time, with time to spare we are trading in spare parts, combined, we've aligned our shipwrecks. We face the south - we are the pessimistic creatures. We are the absent souls. traced bone structures and phantom feelings; genetic make up of uncompleted human beings. Puzzle pieces shaved with razor blades...we make them fit. we take what we want. inhaling expired fumes//exhaling narcissistic volumes. rise! we are everything in this world! we are a mess! Brakes don't exist, and the camera filter is permanently black and white. Jeans too tight, dreams too small. staring at the sunrise through lace and hearing the waves through a myriad of whispers. i am not accountable for my actions. i believe in nothing more and nothing less than gravity. scar tissue ties our binds, ribs entwined, born to die.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
I'm an awkward puzzle piece
A connection to a corner that nobody has claimed
Part of the group of misfits desperately groping
To get a grip on what it's like to fit into the picture
Reaching for a feeling
Something to take away the confusion
Of such an everyday ******* up pass-time.
I'm the puzzle piece that's part of the sky
That simply blue piece
That doesn't know quite where to fit in
Who is put aside and returned to when needed
Who otherwise will not be looked at
Until one piece is missing.
I am a part of this beautiful sky that is so overlooked
That is there without being there
A connection never faltered.
I am a piece of sky that struggles forward in a misshapen puzzle
Desperately grasping to reshape her misfit parts
Hoping to include a bit of cloud
That won't make her edges look so rough.
But I am this connection that is taken for granted
Until it falls off the table
When everyone falls to their knees and realizes
How important such a small part may be
And only then will misfits realize
Without being different
Without being the awkward puzzle piece
Of blue sky with rough edges and a lousy connection
That without them
The connection can't be made
The puzzle is left uncompleted.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
Precious beautiful boy, stupid little fool boy, sakes alive, what am I to do?
You didn't realise you belonged, and I guess I waited too long to tell you all the things I never knew I had to.
A wicked world of ****** doubts, a sudden single strikeout, can't believe I'm still here and yet you're gone.
Now I guess I'll try to stick it out, but everything is so wrong and life has no business just going on.
I have never felt more sorry; but if you'll forgive me, I'll avow:
if you thought life was bad before, then you should see it now.
And I have never felt more heartbreak; it reaps despite my best
efforts to rip the ********* thing the **** out of my chest
and I would tear apart my eyelids if I thought it could help me see
how these diamond eyes bring some folks high, but they just don't fly for me.
I try to consult my conscience but it speaks to me in tongues,
so I'll settle for poisoning my liver and blackening my lungs.
There's a wound in my world but I'm sadder for you for you'll never know happiness, forever uncompleted.
You wanted happiness for us, but he's gone forever and I'm sorry mommy, for I am defeated.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
She runs.
Where? I don't know.
What I do know, is she enters a forest.
This is no ordinary forest, with no ordinary secrets.
It belongs to the snakes.
For all eternity she will run, seeking refuge from their control,
yet she will find none.
Doomed to unhappiness and uncompleted paths, is the life she leads.
The snakes will take away everything,
slowly, until nothing of hers is left.
She has been left defenseless and alone.
Cut off from society, stripped of her confidence.
The snakes will pay.
Their blood is the revengeful cost of what they have taken from her.
So, prepare yourself, beasts.
for she refuses to succumb. And now,
she is out for your blood.
That's what you get when you mess with a free soul.
Karma's a ***** ain't it.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
Reading the: Pauses
Uncompleted::: Clauses
Various. Punctuation.
Syntax structure; revelation.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
Crawling intellectuals,
Brawling interceptionals,
Stairway's that leadeth thou to thine end!!
Entrancic scening summer fairies,
Prophetics turned to visionary,
Thy mission's uncompleted in thine own home....
Sorceretic witchdoctors,
And jesus Christ mockers,
Snubbers and grubber's all as one!!
Journeymen hath thou learned a trade?
Junction friend hath thou burned thy craze?
The tallismen steady hand is gone!!!
Violate me as thou will,
Smile as thine shaky stick can ****
Volition's grand view is seen!!!!
Vocal vitality is a blessing to those who brand their name,
The wanderer's flame knows no fancied escape...
Absorment Temper's flare adhesively,
Treatingly accidental!!!
Despondency shows up for the destination thou has thought to receive,
Hath thou given up yet?
Where at last shalt thou find thy predetermined destiny???
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
I told myself long time ago
I wouldn't wait for you anymore
Though here I am, still patient
Still in love, conflicted and torn
How many closures do I need
Until I am fully satisfied
Each ending feels uncompleted
Like our souls are still somewhat tied
I tell myself I've given up on you
Then I don't but I still try
Each time I say it, it feels closer
Progressing to our final goodbye
It's hard to distance myself
When our friendship has gotten so close
It is so hard to give up on you
Even if she is the one you chose
I thought it would be easier
Now that you are no longer alone
And yet, persistently I continue
To indulge in the love I had always hoped
I want to hug you back when you hug me
Still, I can't bring myself to cross the line
I love you, you're special to me
But overall, you were never mine
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
all around me I find friends
in the city, in work, in bed
still I feel I do pretend
no one knows what's inside my head
all around me I find fun
in the city, the house, the club
still I feel so undercut
something's missing I don't know what
all around me I find love
in the city, in drugs, from my mum
still I feel so all alone
misunderstood by everyone
I have everything I need
I should be okay I think
I'm missing that final piece
the person that completed me
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 1:32 AM UTC
You Woke Me With A Kiss
You woke me from a deep sleep
My heart was so drenched
My life was so uncompleted
But you found me;
You kissed me out of the spell
Your love for me is so deep
When I look into your eyes
I see my reflection in them,
my feelings for you
I do not despise
Your Love I hold so dear
yet so near;
You treat me like the princess
You plead for me not to leave you
You started pouring out your feelings
your sweet sensual love to me
I see you biting your lip and anxiously
to kiss me;
I looked at You and said I need you
I could never depart from You
I love you.
Poetic Judy Emery © 1982
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
Straight and crowded are lined the walls of white decay
Through sickness and in health do we too stand here and wait
For better or worse, the latter seeming only to often
Silent and still, crowded and hushed, another wheeled by
Black demons stand shoulder to shoulder with empty hearts
Muttering those words which lift the uncompleted soul away
We think these places are here for help, not for sadness
But littering this country, there they stand, never empty
Aug 27, 2010
Aug 27, 2010 at 3:19 AM UTC
Dear my small world,
It's early and teenagers are walking to school,
the sun is warm and cool,
my eyes are closing as I pass them by going the other way,
my old friend creeps on me and reminds me of a spring mountain day,
being those kids walking slow,
not knowing the episode,
but enjoying the show,
their mountains are just a brighter green,
my old friend gets in my stomach and the top he tends to lean,
the smells of anxiety and the fear of uncompleted homework,
make me smile,
I pass by swings and see my world become night,
and two kids in Florida are in my sight,
talking aboot nonsense but still returning to smile and laugh,
it becomes funny and two drunk kids in Reno take their place,
I can tell who they were but I couldn't see a face,
my old friend creeps to my mouth and my past I can taste,
I suddenly am on the swings holding my hand in front,
staring at a star,
reaching out with one eye closed I feel like I can grab it,
my eyes open and I almost take oot some teenager,
something's die hard I say,
and they look the other way,
and say, "ok crazy",
the past maybe getting hazy,
but the feelings never die.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC