Best Conclude Poems
How does it feel?
It's hard to tell
Sad when I pause
Taking moments to dwell
It's the pearl that is lost
It's the half-empty shell
It's the un-told story
It's the water-less well
How does it feel?
Deep emotion stirs
Where the long goodbye
Has now lifted it's curse
And the shadowy valley
At last is traversed
So the heavenly moonlight
Guides the soul, now immersed
To the traveller's rest
Angel bells welcome in
As adventure concludes
Ending all earthly din
Yet, we cheer and we shout
For a presence so full
Not a moment's regret
Nothing mundane or dull
The poet and lover
Of life and it's pasture
Your memory rich
While you journey to rapture
Though a vacancy sign
Is erected below you
As we move to conclude
Let our words rise to show you..
This love legacy, bright
It will sparkle forever
For you taught us of hope
As you bound us together
It's a beautiful tether
That will never be broken
Your legacy, strong
And of you, highly spoken
As our eyes may be teary
As these words are no measure
For the gold in our hearts
Is your love's lasting treasure
A dead star that inspired this poem--the companion of the star 55 Cancri, in the constellation of Cancer the Crab--has now shrunk to only about twice the size of earth yet is extraordinarily massive, leading astronomers to conclude that its surface and outer crust consist entirely of diamond.
In slumber now and thence to dream
of space-time’s stirred and curving sweep,
where stellar furies set agleam
the velvet thrall of endless deep.
Here among a billion suns,
solo Klieg cued nascent spark.
Ensuing life o'er an eon runs
ere treading path of torpid dark.
Adorned in crystal, its bequest—
fusion’s fire did else abate—
bejeweled then, this orb compressed,
now fields of diamonds lie and wait.
Yet perish need to search the endless skies—
diamonds sparkle here in lovely eyes.
If this is my last poem, a masterpiece it will not be,
nor a poem of sorrow written deep into the night.
No self-recriminations or guilt. That is not me.
By nature I’m a sonneteer. My poetry is light.
A song of happiness and gratitude I’ll write.
As imperfect as I always was and still am to this day,
I have a gentle spirit and am kind
like many others close to me, who I am glad to say
I did not have to look too hard to find -
good friends who understand my heart and mind.
Yes, good friends I’ve always had; they are my prize
for my simply being on this earth, for little do I do
to merit their affection. In my eyes,
they are roses; from random seeds they grew!
Some flourish yet today in my garden of friendship sweet and true.
Then there are my sisters, who from my mother’s womb
came to share a strange and wondrous childhood with me.
I’m lucky, for this fate did not spell doom.
Though woes would soon ensue from a blended family,
we found great pleasure in a lifestyle of simplicity.
Older now, with children, my sisters and I thrive.
The memories we made together, like a song,
linger, and I’m happy to be alive,
knowing that my children too belong
with me in spirit, for our bonds are strong.
Yes, friends and family, and so much more:
a husband who works hard and has been true,
the children of my children and the pets that I adore!
There are students who have touched my life; they’ve come and gone,
but how I hope that in their hearts a piece of me lives on.
If this is my last poem, I must conclude
with things I got to do! I got to play,
see movies, write my poems, eat good food,
and read of places that I got to visit far away!
Thank you, God, for everything, is all that's left to say.
Written Aug. 28, 2015 and now used June 26, 2016
for the Second Place Contest Contest of Laura Loo
In this day and age, when happy seems vacant
Where people’s hopes appear forever distant,
It’s the little things that see you through the day
Often it seems, in the most trivial way.
A simple smile might spice up your day
Maybe an ‘hello’, said in a friendly way
Or a driver, who lets you pull out in front,
Or the boss who’s ill, you would normally confront.
To stumble across a coin, when you’re stony broke,
Bump into an old friend, when it’s years since you spoke,
Receive some flowers, right out of the blue
Or complete the crossword you thought you could never do.
Wake up with the thought - ‘it must be Monday’,
Only to then realise, actually it’s Sunday,
Or a kiss from a loved one, with an ‘I love you’
There’s no greater act that anyone can do!
It’s the little things that can give you hope
A gentle ‘pick me up’ when it’s hard to cope.
Whatever it is, that brightens your day
We must conclude- ‘it’s surely god's way!!’
In a world ruled by gods and men,
who holds in their hand nature's pen?
When words are smitten to deaf ears,
dost one conclude their deepest fears?
Thy skilled soothsayer is portrayed,
as nothing more than a beggar paid.
A wandering derelict of the past,
his bardic tongue now shall avast.
On a park bench, he sleeps at night,
oft Poe's "The Raven" he does recite.
'Tis thy chilly nights he dreads the most,
so in his prose, he gets engrossed.
The birds doth come and hearken in,
as he weaves his tales and rhymes within.
This man was once like you and me,
so sad this world could never see.
I have this thing called ADHD
The H isn’t silent, I’ll help you to see
Ever since I was small, it’s lived inside me
It affects who I was, am and will be
Most people know, the layer on top
A tid bit of knowledge before the facts stop
Evaluating their lives, they tend to conclude
From the limited facts, they must have it too
But I need to speak up, I yearn to be heard
This isn’t a fad, or something I’ve learned
But rather, a voice, indecisive and quick
Listing my options, insisting, I pick
It never shuts up and will never be pleased
Off my terror and panic, it greedily feeds
Trembling with jitters, it fears the unknown
I lock in my choice, but it never moves on
Attached to my ear, I gave it a name
This relentless voice is none other than shame
Guilt and short comings, smeared in my face
A constant reminder, I’m not fit to race
The H stands for hyper, when in fact, I am tired
It refers to my brain and the way it is wired
I fidget when seated and excuse myself often
I come across rude, but my shoes must be walked in
I desperately try to absorb, process and act
I work hard to be average and display enough tact
But a fairly small task becomes a tricky ordeal
My response is to panic. It’s an everyday drill
It’s mental exhaustion, causing physical fatigue
I’m smart, but I’m slow. No patience to read
I’m resentful and sad. It seems so unfair
But these are my shoes and my shoes I must wear
As I Rose From Purple Slumberland, My Heart Red Aflame
As I rose from purple slumberland, my heart red aflame
There within crackling old bones was an itching in the game
Was there honorable valor in soul's deeper felt hate
Dare I tempt yet again the hard vicious hand of Fate
Last time, repercussions were almost impossible to bear
But scorching volcano in me cried it is only fair
Had not the evil temptress burned alive my best friend
But my sword will certainly be her righteously brought end.
It was then I knew the unholy beast had flown back home
Had done ghastly work, leaving behind bloodshed as it roam
Not sparing innocent lives of babies and young kids
Seeking to slay wherever they went and cleverly hid
Ahh but, this true sword and razor-sharp blade it soon may greet
And within all of death's aching throes its demise thus meet
A sworn oath, a promise sword upon an ancient stone
The huge monstrous beast will receive wherever it has flown.
As gleaming moon its golden rays showered upon earth
I knelt to pray to my God for all of my worldly worth
To gift me insight and power to end its wicked life
And that I am not to be shredded by its claw-like knife
Or even bitten by any of its long daggerlike teeth
Nor knocked senseless and its trampling feet stomped beneath
This sincerest prayer I utter to Heaven up high
That in this Holy quest, God rewards me, I do not die.
Robert J. Lindley, Narrative
Nov. 23rd, 1973, age 19
Part One...
Old Note- 1973-- To be finished later....
New Note-
Posting this old poem now because we are down from the mountainside and we have a wifi connection. Will finish this poem at a later date, conclude it in Part Two- " the final battle""/ RJL
With this napkin as my canvas
A word picture I paint
While he drowns out his sorrows
Until he finally faints
The best works he weaves
Are when unconsciously drunk
While sober and thinking
He writes only junk
While he flirts with the barmaid
Thinking about the sword in his pants
The sword in his right hand
On this napkin words plant
When he wakes with this poem
Stuck to the side of his head
He’ll read it and conclude
He’s the genius instead
Instead of getting credit
For these words that I write
It would be more correct to say written
By Jack Daniels last night
So why are the words
Not slurred or mistyped
Because while the lush was all trashed
His pen was alright
So barmaid pour another
For this bum who holds me
And let’s pray he uses his other hand
When he has to go pee
Dearest, why cry in vain in the black night
fight its gentle intent to hold and rest.
Why fear malcontent this absence of light?
Put false ego upon the loom to test.
What makes you conclude elation so found
from harsh light, will thus frame your hearts delight?
Reality so formed will oft be unbound,
allow grays to soften the fading light.
We are ripe stalks of Universal Eye.
Walk on courageous in the night time sky.
Blameless it dances, tame-less it prances,
as under a watchful eye it grows.
It crackles under the moonlit night,
and everywhere sparks take flight.
More sticks, more twigs, and up it goes!
As majestically it glows.
Soon enough, marshmallows are roasted,
some are just lightly toasted.
So, now, to conclude my tale,
I must say this: Fires are beautiful, fires can be a delight!
But keep watch, or they will set your yard alight!
...the birds having nothing on you
each tasty morsel drips
deflowering of night
and day
where sun has chose to stay
close
your lips to mine
piercing the aire
beheld in Pierian time
kindled and caressed in kiss
late night hours waved
as arousals arrive
and reside
touches pulsed by rhyme
symphonically conduced
more than mere interludes
that never conclude
stillness our tune
ignition the flame
morning whispers
silent into eyes of Jade
hesitating, she breathes once more
meandering Elysian fields of gold
"a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation"
I study the void
conclude it is light it craves
become lost within my calculations
dimensions unspurl
spirals catastrophise
until
spinning
cancels
itself out
and I am still
within my stillness I seek
seeing no ground
having no anchor
it is me that craves
I fear I am the void
should I internalise the vortex
walk the line dizzy
with hand unheld
gamble on transformation
to the entirety of light
see myself
reflected on the outer edges
not through another lens
let the doppelganger
drop away
what if that
I am the nuclear ,the unwanted power,
i pay you according to you care:
for how long have I served you?
Provided you the energy to carry on;
sometimes you even packaged me
and exchanged me for currency;
how many of your wars have i fought?
And when in my might you triumphed
didn't you simply answer superpower?
I am the power behind your wheel,
i keep many of your industries going,
i make your night bright like sunflower
even in your health i play my role.
But in your luxury you forget,
you just forget our agreement
and begin to neglect my care
asking me to go to hell;
you begin to push me to my enemy
as you exposed my nudity to whirlwind
and asked water to deal with me as it liked
you are like a louse that lives on hound,
that thinks he is killing the hound,
where will it live after the death of the hound?
you neglect my care, you expose yourself!
But you are master of propaganda:
for failing to play your role,
what name have you not called me?
You said I am a murderer,came out with statistics
of how many i had killed, you marked me unwanted
and went on streets to shout me down;
you are quick to talk of Fukushima;
man, man ,man,your deceit is legendary,
fire is good servant...now i understand the say.
Yes i know you art,
you know how to call things names,
when you fail at you duty,
you simply say mechanical error;
and when you don't understand people,
you simply call them primitive;
when you don't understand the misery of God,
you simply conclude he does not exist.
No, i am not afraid of your deceit
i am comfortable with who i am
you are the one looking for me
if you still want me,you are welcome,
if you don't want me again
God knows i will not ask for you.
Two rivals meet after long time,
The battleground set for a thrash,
Defying age, not in their prime,
They're geared up for a summit clash;
It's a tense atmosphere down there,
Stadium filled with fired up fans,
There's great excitement in the air,
Best friends have changed to battling clans;
Combat's shifting from side to side,
Both, champions in their own right,
Every shot keeps turning the tide,
Let's see who wins this final fight;
Now, fighting for that crowning point,
Which will conclude play in action,
Game. Set. Match. What an effort joint!
Roger in tears. Eighteenth slam won.
02/15/17
(Note: This poem is about the title clash between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal in the Australian Open, 2017)
dramatic monologue
come
come quickly
come, spotless Bridegroom
come, Lord
come fill our thirst
come, gift your bride with peace
come and conclude your covenant
come, declare your earthly kingdom
come, show your power over death
even so,
Lord Jesus, come
written by Reason A. Poteet
3 Sep 2014
using anaphora, a poetic device