Best Bow Out Poems
~~RE Birth ~~
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
THIS IS A VERY OLD POEM ABOUT 2 YEARS Maybe 3 YEARS OLD...
REBIRTH
The dance is over, air expelling
from my lungs like exploding bubbles
I' am drowning , slowly descending
like a graceful butterfly who has lost
it's wings
A backward plunge into the
murky depths , arms expanded
in light freeform motions.
I must accept this chapter in which
I've just closed, set out to sea on
a barge of reverence.
My life is now movement in words.
The twirling motion of the pen writing
in the next move.
Rhythmical steps can no longer tell
my story. So I go gracefully, bow out
to pick up a new style of interpretation.
Extending a hand to clean white
parchment that waits for me on the
floor of this page.
The spot light no longer on the dancer.
It shines on a new truth now, fact that
I freely embrace as I lay the dream to rest.
Picking up a new dream , one of words
of tales, and of stories meant to be heard.
So drift down now sweet dancer in beautiful
dark arabesque motions, into the endless abyss
that was once clear visions.
Sleep now as I awake to a new day filled with
poetic beginnings.
Dance now in a different pattern, the moves
are changed but the world is the same.
Art of the mind while the body welcomes rest
Time filled with words yet to be said, spoken words
yet to be heard, songs yet to be sung, friends yet
to be embraced.
Swimming back up to the top of the waters
as a new hope is defined, the birth of a poet.
By:Debbie Mills Kelly
© 2012 Debbie_Philly
The whole of a journey still to be traveled
is much like a novel begun
with threads of the story not yet unraveled
and windings of plot to be spun.
We’ve myriad paths to meander, assess.
The hours are long till midnight’s chime.
It seems like eternity, nevertheless,
‘tis only a twinkling in time.
The wise old mysterious owl, unsurpassed
at vigilance during the dark,
in the lore of the past could events forecast,
though lacking the song of the lark.
Still future tomorrows are anyone’s guess
when we’re in existence’s prime.
It seems like eternity, nevertheless,
‘tis only a twinkling in time.
Our lives stretch before us as endless array,
neath skies bright with starry wishes,
of vast possibilities all on display
or feast of enticing dishes.
To life’s great adventuring we acquiesce.
We’ve many a mountain to climb.
It seems like eternity, nevertheless,
‘tis only a twinkling in time.
The universe also has spans of ascent
(or multiverse, as some prefer,
having ‘bubbles’ in space of dimensions bent
with heavens discretely astir),
together with cycles of cosmic regress,
midst empyrean spheres sublime.
It seems like eternity, nevertheless,
‘tis only a moment in time.
On this earthly stage where we mortals play out
our shenanigans, seldom wise,
getting backed into corners with no way out,
till at last we open our eyes,
let’s endeavor our noblest selves to express
ere we bow out of pantomime,
for while seeming eternal, nevertheless,
‘tis only a moment in time…
~ Harley White
stars revere the rising sun and bow out of sight,
refractory shadows lift, revealing rays of light,
illuminating, misty, ruffled, canopies on trees,
rippling waters humming, in the gentle morning breeze,
sacred song birds, fill the air, in a choral litany,
beneath a dome, a colorful horizon, splattered vividly.
Date: July 27, 2022
For: Bite Size Poem No.50 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
No placement
The end of the road is a gloomy place to be
There is nothing there, nothing for the eyes to see
The end of the road is where I now stand
I wish you are with me, I wish I could hold your hand
The end of the road is where we will all one day end
Wishing in our hearts we got off when we took that last bend
The end of the road is the place to say goodbye
The place where the heart's hopes and dreams do die
The end of the road can come sooner than expected
It will all depend on the path that you selected
The end of the road is fate's most horrible surprise
Makes your heart feel like its as cold as ice
The end of the road is what I now face
I should bow out and exit this world with grace
Here at the end of the road is where I leave you my heart
Please know that I will always love you even as I now depart
(What is the end of the road? Is it death?
Yes it is death in whatever form, could be physical death or it could be the death of a heart
but whatever kind of death you see in this poem, one thing remains that even at the end of
the road the soul still chooses to give importance to that person he considers his half, even if
she doesn't feel the same)
JEB
SOFT SENSUALITY
While the waiting is nearing
The longing doubly suspenseful
Mechanically or tender make it eager of welcome
Perhaps hugging and kissing
Will never dampen homesickness
Everything in the “kubo” is envious
Every minute a comfort and intimate
Even crickets stop cricketing
And eking doors shut up and posts oiled
All holes on the walls will have their heydays peeping
Can we stop the nectar oozing down?
Surely a very hearty and glorious days and nights
Like in a store the customer keeps coming back
The delights will never end
Soft and hard are both sensual
Whether the night is romantic
Will both of us irresistible
Especially with naked truth
And never bow out to heavens.
Term: Kubo(Filipino word) means cottage in this poem.
Dalila Agtani
9/26/11
Entered in a contest:
Sponsor nette onclaud
Contest Name SOFT SENSUALITY
(Verse 1)
This cannot repeat or loop around anymore, in my direction,
I've had the wind kicked out of my sails due to depression.
And everyday
I hide away
I'm not displaying
the fight I'm saying.
I'm down inside and sink,
I'm more flipping down than you'd think.
Lost for love and lost for laughter,
facing upto my fears always ends in disaster.
So I'm always down and doubting me,
a desert there's a drought in me,
while rain downpours are drowning me,
the logic's leaking out of me.
A mist hides the positivity
you find in creativity.
From an infant up to those last rhymes thinking I can't do s**t,
so life devoured me.
I need to shake that habit,
'cus this talent aint transparent so I wont bow out cowardly.
I'm wasting my worth,
but have a thunderous thirst,
to rediscover some turf.
Watch me now and you'll witness,
as I drift with the surf,
and wet the earth,
of this desert,
as I p**s on the dirt.
You just heard now watch and observe!
(Verse 2)
I keep trying to fight but everyday it gets worse,
I'm trying to carve out a path, it hurts,
I loop around to where I stood first.
I'm stuck suffering,
but won't let no fat lady sing.
Relapse,
forget the feeling,
I'll just get back to my feet and I'll stand,
because fate demands,
I'll never live it down if I don't rebound.
I honestly promise to be at my strongest,
in fact no impact or test
can crush my chest, ever,
Ima last and never rest
'til I bask that the flag never flew at half mast.
I'll dip and I'll rise like a rollercoaster ride
but I'll never hollow out inside or lose my pride.
I'll battle depressions wickedness with all my witty grittiness
and when I'm knocked down I'll breathe, go again and believe,
with a greed for freedom core and seed until I'm freed.
But that's a wish beyond a series of painful twists,
a thirst to slit wrists through self hatred
overlooked and underrated
but not quenched of desire that'll fire home victory.
They call me the dying month, the bringer of cold harsh winds from the north.
I sneak up upon unsuspecting late summer well wishers, wrap my cold hands around their cheeks and come forth.
Moving silently across the country side, I graciously give the kiss of death to the once green leaves.
In my path I leave nothing but skeleton shapes twisted and old, they are nothing but shadows of once mighty summer trees.
In death however comes beauty of colour, the brown crispy leaves illuminated by the red autumn sky.
The stage is set and the players cast, the final curtain call is all but nigh.
With a crunch under foot, hat and scarves protecting such delicate pale frozen skin.
The first frost falls upon my deathly hands, I greet winter as my old friend with an honest grin.
Like the leaves from the trees my time is short, but the cycle continues without me and I die knowing my part has been played.
I close my eyes as you do in bed, into winters night will an autumn evening fade.
My time has ended and I bow out gracefully, for the work I've done I feel no shame.
As all things that share a purpose and live with meaning, it's time for us all to return whence we came.
03/01/2015
Battered
March 18, 2014 at 4:37am
Bruised ,blemished, blamed,befell,
caught beneath your angry spell,
Bequeathed to you my battered soul.
I have withstood your angry hell,
My face that tempts the fatal blow;
Battered by reckless insecurities.
My eyes tell- tales
where err I go.
Passion's blow or furious fist-?
I can no longer live with this;
My absence, shall the fire quell.
How now ,I bow out gracefully,?
When there's nothing beautiful
left to show.
This cannot repeat or loop around anymore, in my direction,
I've had the wind kicked out of my sails, due to depression.
And everyday
I hide away
and I'm not displaying
the fight that I'm saying.
I'm down inside and sink,
I'm more flipping down than you'd think.
Lost for love and lost for laughter,
facing upto my fears always ends in disaster
with anxiety,
so I'm always down and doubting me
a desert there's a drought in me
while rain downpours are drowning me
the logic's leaking out of me.
A mist hides the positivity
you find in creativity.
From an infant up to those last lines thinking I can't do s--t,
so life devoured me.
I need to shake that habit,
this talent aint transparent and I wont bow out cowardly.
I'm wasting my worth,
but have a thunderous thirst,
to rediscover some turf.
Watch me now and you'll witness,
as I drift with the surf,
and wet the earth,
of this desert,
as I sweat on the dirt.
You just heard now watch and observe!
There are tears in her eyes
As the door slams and the glass rattles
And she watches his retreating back:
His tight, hunched shoulders
Containing his anger and frustration.
She sits and waits, chain-smoking
Cheap king-size cigarettes,
Wanting a cup of tea, but waiting
Until he comes home again
Calmer, like he always does.
This scene is familiar and she,
Like him, is word-perfect in her role
One she’d played for far too long.
She is bored and afraid; not of him
But of change and the unknown.
Later, she places a steaming cup of tea
At his elbow and forces a smile,
Her mind not on him, but upstairs
And the large, heavy suitcase
In their bedroom.
The scene is near-identical
To the ones they’ve played-out before,
But this time she’s gone from player
To director and changed the script.
This performance demands a different ending.
She will exit, stage left
And bow out of this production.
After eighteen years in the starring role
Of the long-suffering wife and mother
She is back in the market again.
CUT!
rebuilding is a part of life, it's about the ups and the downs
the good, the bad, the happy, the sad all that goes around
as life is about our experiences all that we've gone through
it's about picking up the pieces and somehow make them anew
rebuilding is sometimes costly it will always have a price
to rebuild those torn down walls that make up your life
so what has deteriorated? what do you need to re-erect?
what are those issues in your life that have had the most devastating affect?
to rebuild those torn down walls that you thought would have kept you whole
to rebuild those torn down walls that have caused you to lose control
in order to make it happen you need to re-position yourself in life
in order to make it happen you need to stand before the Lord Christ
now in the presence of the Holy Lord Our God the King of Kings
now in the presence of Our Creator who controls everything
now is the time to make it happen by overcoming opposition
now is the time to make it happen by taking up a godly position
in order to make it happen you need to possess a true faith
and no matter what the enemy attempts to do you need to concentrate
now focused on your mission with a purpose steadfast and sure
trusting that with God by your side there's nothing you can't endure
in order to rebuild those walls in your life that have been torn down
you need to stand on the word of God which is your solid ground
now is the time to overcome your fears and those things that the devil will use
to make you doubt, cause you to bow out one of his greatest tools
for the devil will huff and he will puff but he doesn't have a clue
that as a disciple of Christ he has no power over you
now is the time to wield your weapon "The Sword of the Spirit"
the most powerful ammunition with the words of God in it
rebuilding your torn down walls on the foundation that is Jesus Christ
rebuilding your torn down walls by overcoming the distractions in life
not looking left, not looking right but looking directly to the Lord
and no matter the price nor the sacrifice with Christ rebuild those walls
The smoke from my cigarette
drifts in a lazy curl,
Shapes start to appear
as I watch it rise and unfurl,
Look,a stallion
racing towards the sun,
And there, a noble knight
meeting his maiden won,
There’s a dancer twirling
on her toes,
as the tip of my cigarette
burns and glows,
I watch the characters
as if on a stage,
acting out a Shakespearean page,
Look,there’s Proteus
and Ophelia ,too,
And poor Othello,
deceived and fooled,
I watch as puck
bespells the wrong eyes,
And the Fairy Queen
with a jackass lies,
It’s like a dream
upon a midsummer’s night,
There’s Hamlet,
Juliet,
And my favorite,
‘Twelfth Night’
Then the players bow out
as my cigarette burns down
And I return to reality
with a smile and a frown…
It seems it’s the end of that uproarious tale.
That rosy-coloured story could finally fade.
I’ve been glowing in light and now weary in shade.
These subliminal ideas is what your absence breeds.
I was your everything and now you’re not even taking a heed.
Baffled I am! How could you ossify my tenderness by your deeds?
You’ve curtailed affection and planted distrust’s seed.
O you remember, I was the one you badly need.
Now, I bid you the last farewell, and go as fast as a steed.
Blood from my heart had fled; I am a living dead indeed.
I will drown my ship veering to the dangerous offshore reef.
Let me slay that tender heart that caused so much pain.
Alas, my doting paramour, my heart won’t palpitate in vain.
These bloodless wars and sunken hearts would no longer sustain.
I‘d no longer take part in this unaccustomed play that made me bovine.
If you find another love, just go away and end this dread.
That acutely abiding love didn’t last as you vowed out
This whist is to be ended. I bow out.
I was dauntless, but I am no longer stout.
I waived you all my inviolable rights, but you violated them out.
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : IXL
IF you pull a long dopey face
E'en if it were in your own bloody way
Stick two sore thumbs in your own nose
To spite your snubbed mug and blast bray
If you pulled a long resigned face
'Who put me here' you're not allowed to say
Now 'I don't want to go yet' there's the choice
You can neither at will come nor go or e'en stay
If you pull a long recalcitrant face
Whether you feel down and out or e'en gay
In the confines of your own private place
That won't do take you must part in global play
If you pull a long stumped face
There's little to be happy about much as you lay
Whichever way you face damned be the case
Think you then you can make your own pay
If you then must pull a long damned face
Take the final curtain call and bow out of play
None'll let you keep your own face in this human race
Vow to suck up to man-made gods dent not their sway
© T. Wignesan - Paris, March 31, 2019
A job that's appointed for life
Is bound to cause some people strife
For over the years
Annoyance appears;
That goes, too, for husband and wife.
So the Justices of the High Court
Who have no one to whom they report
Should be forced to bow out
And relinquish their clout
Well before they've a final retort.
Though if Ginsburg lives 20 more years
It might quiet a few of my fears
For if Gorsuch gets in
The Republicans win
And I'll drown all my sorrows in beers.