Best Closures Poems


Premium Member Ode To My Alma Mater-F

I had hoped there would be a 50th class reunion for my class of 67.
Instead, I got word the other day that Aggie High is closing its doors.

For four years, I was taught by some of the finest teachers in America.
For four long years, I filled your library, classrooms, and walked your hallways.                                                     
I was challenged and succeeded in math and was greatly inspired by my Biology Classes. I was arrested and captured,  moved and mesmerized, by my charismatic History teacher.  I even listed on your honor roll and sang in your very respected and talented choir.

I moved away 50 years ago and unfortunately, I have visited you only two or three times since.  Just a few months ago, I was privileged to dialogue via telephone with my Art teacher's wife.  Perhaps he knew of your coming closure, but he wasn't home to inform me.

O Aggie, I am sadden by the news, but I have come to understand such matters. O Aggie, it's interesting that you have joined a long list of changes and closures in my life.  It's also interesting that things I once thought would be history, instead are now current events.  Furthermore, it's interesting that, like many of my past acquaintances, I always get little warning.

O Aggie, all things have beginnings and endings, but know this: you have been a launching pad and a gallant educator, rocketing many of us to the stars.  What you have instilled in us is forever credited to your account. You have fought a good fight, and your course is near the finish.           

My eyes are getting watery Now.  So I must cease and desist, lest my proud and tender memories of you get the best of me. 
04082017 PS Contest, Paschal Premier, Brian Strand

Premium Member The Clown

The clown

Circuit circuits
moving round in circles
swings and roundabouts
junctions dead ends
living closures and 
beginnings

The fool wise man
woman child in all
posits mocks
understands the world
beauty horror
misgivings paths
ahead and gone
retrieved adventoured
learned felt inspected
long gone present 

Re-chisseles
comprehends in 
jest and wonderment

The jester
foolhardy
and foolproof
scribes in stone
and pencil
when fool’s gold
is just enough
where paradise
develops based on
hopes beliefs
and inner truth

The clown speaks
joy in face
of darkness
insight desperation
inspiration sweating
away the clouded
skies of dogma
digma paradigm

A joker true to
juddered jibes
jewels miracles
astonished tunes
informal charters
melodies and scented
wordings
bridges schisms
buffering the madness
infinite insanity
impoverished delusion

A senseless idiot 
giving idioms
meaning iconoclastic
impromptu impropriety
making sense of what 
there really is

A bubble blower
whistle blower
soapy gentle creature
carbolic and pugnacious
peaceful warrior
observing pulchritude
a journeyman

The circuits circle 
circuses' loops 
and rounded
loopholes spirals
intervening interweaving 
fabrics
tapestries 
makes 
the clown

Waiting

All of my texts go unanswered
My anxious calls slither to voicemail
I glance at the huge grandfather clock
My hands distractedly sorting the mail

I then check my trusted wristwatch
Its hands surely creeping beyond six
Reprimanding my heartbeats to calm
Some dinner I start to fix

The traffic check on the radio
Always has my undivided attention
Crashes, injuries and lane closures—
Your name to God I overtly mention

Those metal and rubber monsters
Frantically accelerating to get ahead
Send a prickly chill down my spine
As I mix the dough for bread

The walls around seem to move closer
The heat of the oven is stifling
If only you could call me once
Waiting and willing for the phone to ring

Written on:-2/23/2017


Premium Member Sutaih

SUTAIH

H	*	H
I	*	I
A	*	A
T	*	T
U	*	U
S	*	S

And then it unfolded like a zipper that opened
teeth gaping through hollows worse for wear
top stop loosened dichotomy schisms exposed
slider with no way to go crying out for the past
time for perspective and to turn over the page

						S	*	S
						U	*	U
						T	*	T
						A	*	A
						I	*	I
						H	*	H

		           Am I missing something the aperture?
		           Should I weigh in with an anagram or	
		           break the interruption suspend the breach
		           mind the gap right there at the interval?

							DEPARTURE
						ENRAPTURE
					RECAPTURE

CLOSURES
JUNCTURE
HARMONY

	        Not everything broken needs to be mended
	        paradigms shift chasm is there for a reason
	        an open wise person searches new meaning
	        when things fall apart and repairs breakage
	        who needs a zipper when needle and thread
	        play with buttons and rearranges their needs


06th February 2021

The House That Jack Built

by Mark Miller © 06/15/2014

Signs stained white written by twilight's blacken Knight,
Raining silent sights depressants drown the conscience might-
Feeling venereal waves sullen air on standing skin shivers 
Ridding stallions frailty of fear scorn folly appears,
Warning scent of scowl substance -
Seeking in cause and effect applies not in this lullaby,
For the mind belongs to it's own song and dance-
Willow trees weep beside the empty fractal houses,
An ethos fills body's soul with a depraved dreadful chorus-
In jostle of moments lined faster a hurried escape from felt hidden disaster,
An alter of one espousing blight of blithely blister-
Sympathetic one of other removes contents in empty pockets,
Seeking aloft allusions in solutions left lied ring-let-
Daemonic cutting deciphered experimentally-
Winding winded two halves distract obvious facts completely,
Attics into Usher's velvet windows asunder lightening's thunder,
Horror's glory retreats toward sisters end read story
Lightening revealing THE frighting fury hour-
Days of three seal homes sickened manner strayed lost honor,
Violins play chimes of melody clocks delay frayed fractured decay-
Answered doors store stealth terror of sores 
Whispers in absent scenery closures presents history-
Sickle red sorrow drowned disease roams hallways demented path of jester become,
Pallor color companions eclipses my natures being to be-
Capacity particulars a ghastly gloom
Thus is our dissolution for reservations inside our Mansion of Doom-?

Introductions -Part 2-

No one is watching on but you,
Arrested in the familiar and unfamiliar images,
Getting to know the stranger you have been avoiding…
The one that no one understands but yourself…
Who knows how they appear to you?
But they do,
And your heart COLLIDES with several emotions,
Brewing in the soup of your every being,
Listening…tasting…smelling…feeling…seeing,
Crippled and yet whole with the picture before you…
You are seeing your favorite people and your enemies,
The LIES you have told…the ANGER you had with them…
The desire SPUES outwards…
 You are now asphyxiated with happiness…
Your favorites are leading you on towards a beautiful, visual memory! 
It is so simple,
And yet it is captured in complex detail on this projection in the sky…
SEE ME—cries your heart…shivering…SEE. ME.
The spine tingles to the haunting melody that the dialogue provides…
Your defenses are so low now that you are completely exposed to every memory you have locked up or sold…
They are coming back vividly—in silver and GOLD!
And the blasting fires of coldness can NEVER melt them down!
Softly,
You nod as the projection flickers,
As your all-too-familiars,
Your hobbies…favorite foods, people—falling down the skies like raindrops,
Flow straight into your cold exposure,
WARMING you—it feels so good…

You feel RIGHT…because you are…

Conclusions are merely introductions,
So put on the guts, the blood, the skin…
Underneath it all you are pure beauty within,
Designed to fulfill something greater than you can ever imagine,
Designed to master, though inclined to KILL…
Your purpose is never clearer,
When at the end of the movie—a revelation is forming…FORMING!
Your skull closes like two iron doors,
Closing in all of the closures…all of the unrevealed…
And looking forward—through emotions evermore,
ALWAYS looking forward,
And reflecting upon your new…
FRIEND.


Still Counting

And when it ends suddenly, unexpectedly,
You start to count.
First on the days, then the hours - then
Just counting until 100
Then
Beginning            again.

The dead find their faces
The living count faces
                Then most forget
Unless the face has your DNA in it,

But you remember the body bags
Being moved around in the night,
The nurses crying,
The lies being spread,
              The excuses,
The obfuscation,
The blundering incompetence
Of bureaucracy and officialdom.
The elderly kept in deathcamps
that used to be nursing homes.
The grinning mayors
                          And governors.

It’s going away now.
Less and less each day.
It’s going away now
It’s going to a place
Where the living cannot find it
                  It’s going away now.

And suddenly you are very angry
About the stupid shut-ins and the shut-downs,
The politicization of tragedy.
The muddled and slanted statistics
The ridiculous projections,
The false data.
The contradictions and bluster.
The draconian regulatory and government
Sponsored power grabs.
The gagging and intimidation
Of workers.
The trashing of basic freedoms
People
Jailed,
Fined,
Harassed.
The banning's.
The right to collectively worship denied,
Peaceful protest denied.
Businesses forced into bankruptcy.
The unemployment
      The waste.
And destruction.
The sundering of families,
The needless school closures,
The suffering that led
To clinical depression and drug overdoses,
The disdain of those
Who rejected commonsense remedies.
The manipulations
              And machinations,
All the willing useful fools
Chorusing together to tread down
Democracy.
The grinning talking heads
      Who doctored the news.
The attacks and the cancelling
Of those who begged to differ.
Dissenters labeled conspiracy theorists.
The cover-ups:
Gain of function.
GAIN OF FUNCTION.

The dumb mantra of the ignorant
Demanding we 'follow the science'
But the science was wrong
The scientists lied
They lied.
  They all knew
                  AND THEY LIED!

And I am still counting
In case it returns
And I have a lot more things to count,
Lots more to tally and be made
ACCOUNTABLE.

Premium Member Four Cafes

Four Cafés
------------

Four cafés were at the extreme left of what I could see from my apartment window.  There they were, sparkling in the cold night, trying to stand in for stars in the cloudy sky.  I had visited these café-bars one by one as they were opened within the space of a year, all offering similar food: runny egg, soggy chips and pale baked beans.  They had a touch of European chic in the quaint condiment containers, otherwise I could have been anywhere.

I looked for some time at them on that January night, their being the only buildings of interest in my vista.  Word had it they were all owned by the same man, which may or not explain why there were no closures.  As I stared from my high up space, a solitary man entered the third café, otherwise I saw no one.  I expected he was the owner.  There he would be then, in the café called "Bar Three", reading the evening paper.  That evening the paper was full of a murder story.  Perhaps, but no... He was a genteel type, wasn't he? But there again, one can never be too sure...  I decided to look for a new apartment the next day.


THE END


2/16/2023
© Julia Ward  Create an image from this poem.

Pools of Longing

Pools of Longing
Sara L Russell, July 9th, 03:11am

That it might come back to me, that sweet sensation,
When i would reach out my arms across the cool light blue ripples
and push off from the side.

Then would i glide 
out across the water, as a white crane glides across the sunset,
as a white cloud hurries brightly on a warm southerly breeze.

There are trees
when I go walking; butterflies and wild flowers too. They seem 
comfort enough for a short time, in parklands and along the lanes.

There are trains
I may never ride on, there are buses I am still rethinking,
There is time enough for drinking in the the cafes and the bars;

But oh my stars,
what would I give to go back swimming,
gliding weightless once again, free as the birds that skim the sky.

Premium Member Corona Is Over

Heat creeps across unsuspecting December 
Screech of insects' pitch is matched to previous years 
Mirror humidity shimmer doesn't remember 
Last Summer a virus spread, inducing freshened fears
Wuhan's worst nightmare went worldwide, disease severe


Several thousand consecutive cases, shameful peak 
Our Great Southern Land was not immune 
Inbound travel halted, disallowed devastating leak
Early government fumbles, finger pointing ensued
Rapid lock down restrictions lifted by June


State border closures remained in place longer 
A flare up occurred in Victoria, quarantine bungle
Vic. locked down, remaining economy grew stronger 
Spread of virus in other countries spelt massive trouble
Neighbouring nations flip flopped with indecisive struggle 


Spring saw Australia for the most part triumphant
Melbournites wore their masks extra month, assisted
Restrictions eased had little effect on usual daily function
Summer sees us hanging lights as though no Virus existed
Carbon Christmas displays blink brazenly, holiday spots listed


Continent apart from swathes of rampant tragedy
We browse store windows in Season's spirit, unconcerned 
Saunter of Aussie camaraderie permeates happily 
Disastrous for business, but for lots of folk, a forgotten term
Corona, a refreshing ale once again, smothered cheer returned





             1st December 2020 
            Queensland, Australia 

           
                      
  (devastating for many, - despite smug 
       tone of poem, I am deeply sorry)

Covid-19

Disaster, devastation, death and destiny
Headlines, slay us every day
Not since some time-past history
Were people stricken - this terrible way

Self-isolate and stay indoors
Restrictions with fines or time away
No longer can we feed our mores
But food and exercise, work is ok

It feels surreal, it's like a dream
Financial stuff, we handled well
Chook flu, SARS, MERS, seen and been
Covid-19, time will tell

Early, people reason slipped
Control and manners something past
Basic items scare or clipped
A moment there, then taken fast

Masks, gloves - social distance we make
Two in number is allowed
Border closures, states do make
Vaccine will find - government avows

Pain and hurt is spread worldwide
Striking elder, and also young
Doctors, careers, no place to hide
From bats in Asia, they say it sprung

It's early days and seems ok 
But time to come, will tell
Hope is governed, by news each day
Life, by the toll of the bell

Seconds Hand

Once time's second hand 
did slip into mine
…delicate enough
Even as all of me, he grasped 
for-ever the paradox

Then tiny fingers, swiftly probed
Experiencing me?
Crossing unhindered
o'er palms, crevices and closures
Then deeper, delving
into my many
…lifelines entwined

So swiftly seconds go
Mostly moving unseen
So many they seem to be
Stretching Forevers', too belong

Yet of our seconds coming
we do not care to know
(Else we do not share to show)
Until its time to leave
Then they are all
...Countable

So it was just then with me
as Times second hand loosened
Having known now, every me
and I he; scarcely left
…Feeling my mortality

When they are of urgent needs
When of looking back regrets (indeed)
Lucidly revealing within seconds passing
Some days, sometimes, even weeks
Most men would give, if for theirs 
…Returning

When they are of late arrived
Most years, even decades
some men would gladly trade, even
every possibility, if only to breathe
…Just one more of these

Now this second is passed
Both done and undone of me
Elsewhere’s minutes are pushing
I notice this hours getting late

Premium Member Stages In the Art of Giving Up

Stages in the “Art of Giving Up”

Suspenders
My ass won’t hold the pants up anymore

Turn Signals
Just leave ‘em on
I forgot where I was headed

Velcro closures
If you know why it’s already too late

Your “mobile” phone
Is no longer that mobile
Its ringtone
Bring on the Clowns

Stairways
Look like an optical illusion

Your birthday
No longer a celebration….
More of a destination

Your ZUMBA class
Sounds like a cricket discussion group

Your feet resemble those of Bilbo Baggins
“FUZZY SOCKS AND CROCS”


6/8/2021

Fuzzy socks and crocs Poetry Contest

Premium Member So Much For 'scientists'

Love is blind, but so is hate
    Blind hatred of Trump sealed our fate

  Stupid lockdowns, stupid school closures
    Stupid masks never prevented exposure

  Yet COVID 'couldn't possibly' have originated in Wuhan
    ~ 'Scientists' couldn't bear to be DJT fans

Premium Member Road Construction Ugh

Nothing annoying is going to bother me today.
It is the perfect weather, the sun is shining.
The cardinals are trilling, the violets are waving. 
I'm ready to embark on my four hour trip.
Uh-oh. Three lines of cars are stopped. 
A blinking sign says delays. 
Okay. I can handle this. No problem. 
New blinking sign; it says lane closures.  
I feel a little bit irritated when I drive over six orange cones. 
I am waiting now for the world's slowest pouring cement mixer. 
I try not to take my eyes off the road as I watch it pour the slow moving stuff.
An overweight flag man attempts to stop me.
This infuriates me. I drive around him and go faster.
I see a sign that says ten thousand dollar fine for speeding in a work zone.
Highway patrolmen are chasing me now. 
Road construction. I hate it so!
Worst dream ever

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