Best End On Poems
Coral life forms in copious swarms
feast in the Cambrian chyme,
dividing their cells and forming their shells
to end on the seafloor as lime.
Tectonic churning and magma upturning
renders marble whiter than bone.
The marble is mined, but the cutters are blind
to the angel confined in the stone.
A young sculptor arose, with a bend in his nose
and a transcendent creative spark,
charged with ambition to fulfill a commission,
an angel for St. Dominic's Ark.
An artist sublime who will live for all time,
his genius is to see things not shown.
For an angel to achieve he first has to perceive
its splendor enclosed in the stone.
At dawning's first glow he surveys the tableau
of the blocks the stone cutters supplied.
In some he sees dreams of potential themes,
but only one holds an angel inside.
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
The block that he chose was rejected by those
who then lied and claimed to foresee it.
With talent and skill he falls to with a will,
surrounded by rubble and relic.
His method you see, for the angel to free
is to remove all the bits not angelic.
Michelangelo’s art for all time stands apart
but there's something further to heed.
For there's a bit more to the fine metaphor
in the tale of the angel he freed.
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
For in all our insides a bright angel abides
and is just waiting for something to free it:
to remove all the parts which harden our hearts,
to chip out the darkness and pride,
to smooth the rough patches, to polish the scratches
and unshackle the angel inside.
© January 26, 2013
Categories:
end on, allegory, angel, art, beautiful,
Form:
Rhyme
I’ve received an incredible gift
It has given my heart such a lift
But the date that I see
Is what now concerns me –
It’s the date I no longer exist!!!
Today I was gifted a 'lifetime' premium membership but it is somewhat disconcerting to see it ends on 3/20/2077. I hope TPS aren't psychic!!!!
My mother's great great aunt lived to 111 and 121 days and was in the Guinness book of records - I hope I am around a long long time to make full use of this incredible gift.
14th October 2016
Categories:
end on, appreciation, giving, humorous, poetry,
Form:
Limerick
Loss Lost Love
by~ GARY FIELDS
Why my love left?
I soon forget the reason's why
All that I remember
Is that she left such
An empty space
An empty trace
So many memories
Which can not be erased
And I die just a little inside
And time mean's nothing to me'
Fore you mean so much to me
- And -
Then ever so slightly
I wish for quiet subtle change
--------
And I don't know since when
But time just set's end on end
And smoke appears below
Which can choke a friend
A friend in need
Certainly not you love
And once again, ever so slightly
I wish for quiet suttle change
--------
It has been three weeks (03) now
And things' are all in a clammer'
Thing's just seem to set end on end
And nothing seem's to matter
An I make a vowel for thee
In a time that is lost for- ever
-------
O'h, how I wish to belong
-------
by~ Poet Destroyer
I can see the pain!
I came to you no longer.
Looking for answers,
I cried till I could no more..
I shared'
I stared'
At the empty space hiding in my heart,
I knew then that day was the end.
Thoughts ran like rivers,
flowing a stream down my face.
You picked the pieces up as I walked away.
With no more to open and say.
~~~~~
When holding wasn't holding to me no more,
You opened up your heart, in hopes I could feel.
We cried into the night,
until the early morn.
We scolded each other's pain,
searching and seeking each others heart.
As time drew, second begun to fade.
I saw our lovers nest fading,
as the night grew thick.
The moment had arrived,
why did we say goodbye?
~~~~~
Now we sit alone,
reminiscing the past that vaporized into thin air.
An empty trace'
An empty space'
~~~~~
Oh! How I wish to belong!
A collaboration with * GARY FIELDS
My collaboration contest
Categories:
end on, loss, lost love, lost,
Form:
Ballad
Our dinner, boiled to death root vegetables, we swallow in silence as night closes-in on the school. The co-opted Buddhist monastery housing us empties its porcelain thrones into the walled garden’s weedy rear yard. Village women wash: the floors, the pots, the laundry from first light to deep dark. The water runs downhill. War does not stop the drudgery. Where the women sleep is unknown to us. The owners’ are small men; they rule the house with a heavy hand. They teach the techniques of shamanic healing and Thai Massage.
the Green Tara
hangs upon the room's wall:
geraniums on the ledge
The drowse of Friday evening evaporates in a burst of gunfire. Behind the high walls surrounding the school, the sounds of violence escalate. Through open, screen-less, windows sirens sound, the sky lights up and red, yellow, blue, and white prayer flags hang lifelessly from the eaves to the locked gate. Sleep hides, as I do, beneath the covers.
coiled
insecticide smolders:
temple bells sound
The monks, long gone, leave remnants of themselves on the incense coated plaster. Peace sought here was not found. Poverty necessitated the building’s sale. Here on a side street in walking distance from the American embassy, a school for westerner’s storm cellars. The desire to learn Eastern Healing techniques and a common language, English, binds us together: American, French, Spanish, and South African captures of the internet, pilgrims. We come, healers all, undaunted by the Civil War, to Kathmandu, Nepal.
Monday, the riots end on cue. Tourists, again, meander the dust clouded streets, skirting the alley’s begging children. Tea is served in the burgeoning shops. Butchers swat flies from hanging haunches of meat, rare bird vendors walk the street with baskets of exotic birds. And, brazen Westerners stride bare armed, sari-less exposed, and rude, at least until next Friday night—they own the world.
First Published by Mulberry Fork 2016
Categories:
end on, anxiety, fear, war, ,
Form:
Haibun
"universal flower"
universal flower speak to me
open your light of love
play the timeless game of
loves me loves me not
as each petal is removed
have it end loves me
in my heart I know this to be true
I turn to you today for your voice
on this day of oneness all is right
I sit before you revealing this wish
somewhere someone sits with the same desire
as the universal flower stands front and center
as the petals lessen one by one
I will not ask to end on loves me
we both know I do to the end of time
thus the light of love will forever shine
until tomorrow when we come before you as one
hold true the universal flower under the sun
SkyWatcher - 03-19-17
Categories:
end on, love, romance,
Form:
Free verse
The battle begins with an assault on the hill
Our men respond knowing my will
The white warriors continue their drill as before
My men are confident to the core
I order attack on the right white flank
The whites maintain their tightened rank
Generals continue to deploy the men
Since the White attack, this general must defend
My right bank archers saw the chance
Neutralized the left bank Archers in confidence
The trench warriors were stopped in their tracks
This stalemate will eventually end on the flanks
The White General moved to his right
Surrounded by warriors ready to fight
A squad of tanks guarded his side
The Master General needed to hide
My main power entered the fray
The enemy King cornered in the bay
The battle continued action to action
General to General, Grant and Jackson
Both sides fought to the end
The White warriors had to defend
I saw the opportunity to be great
My final maneuver delivered Checkmate!
A Chess Poem
Categories:
end on, games, war,
Form:
Narrative
It Was One Of Those Mornings
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
July 1978
Car packed for the beach;
meeting friends there in three hours.
Find cats for boarding...
They stay hidden in the woods.
Met our friends eight hours later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
July 2013
Clear summer morning,
blue sky, nice outdoor setting.
She walks down the aisle...
our granddaughter, with her dad,
to marry her prince charming.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sandra M. Haight
~13th Place~
Contest: It Was One Of Those Mornings
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Judged: 03/22/2016
Rules: One stanza/or poem about a morning that no one would want to face..
The second stanza about a wonderful morning so we can end on a happy note..
Categories:
end on, morning,
Form:
Tanka
Shakespeare's quill gave Romeo and Juliet a tragic ending
but that's a sad love story I think needs a bit of mending.
Yes, he's the Bard, but quite frankly it broke my heart
to learn they both died needlessly. I hated that part.
In my rewritten dialogue between them, I'd find a way
to change their ill-fated future and have Juliet say,
"Romeo, it's only for you that my heart will ere yearn.
I will simply fake my death and when our families learn
that we've left Verona, we will be married... man and wife
and be together as we have planned, happy with life."
The messenger she sent to give Romeo the good news,
I'd replace with a more diligent one that I would choose.
I'd have made the couple more intelligent and shrewd,
perhaps put an end to the Montague and Capulet feud.
The tale of star-crossed lovers would end on a happy note,
without Juliet seeming to have died. No need for an antidote.
When Juliet says, "Romeo. Romeo. Wherefore art thou?"
He would come to her on the balcony, and he would vow...
"Juliet, I swear, never did my heart love until now.
For I never saw true beauty til this night,
and if perchance our families had forbidden us to wed,
from Verona we would've left. From Italy we would've fled.
With apologies to Shakespeare, my edit I would offer,
not a penny nor one Euro would I take for my coffer.
Indulge me for just a moment for I'm a romantic at heart,
and dared alter the ending by not keeping the couple apart.
Categories:
end on, conflict, love,
Form:
Rhyme
The wondrous wonder of the wandering sun
crosses the sea's horizon
in red burning skies of morning
then disappears with the flaming flowing clouds of evening
to leave a purple cloak before the night
where star-lit glows drip beads of light
upon the silk-like surface of a moving sea
beneath this sky a glorious hue of moonlight
lays like liquid gold inlaid on the water's surface
as wind-driven ripples rapidly run to the shore
to form white-crested waves from rising tides
which end on a coastline of traveled sand
tumbling ashore until they vanish
into a sea-soaked shore of tiny pebbles and crushed shells
it's here in this quiet serenity of a vast vibrant sea
I find peace in the perpetual motion of never-ending waves
giving birth to the beauty of this bountiful broth of natural wonder
that fills my soul with its beautiful ballet of eternal bliss
2/21/22
contest Form-F-Free-Verse...Nature
sponsor Constance La France
Categories:
end on, nature,
Form:
Free verse
THE JOURNEY
Every voyage is staged whether brief or a mortal adventure
Starting with separation, leading to an end on arrival
There is gain and loss; seek embarkation for life is the journey
Categories:
end on, journey, life,
Form:
Sijo
In her cold tomb her spirit lingers,
It was his ring she wore upon her third finger.
A tainted body, so meek, so frail,
Once golden, now so pale,
With long hair and a painted face,
He could still smell her perfume,
But only a trace...
With baby's breath and a single faded rose,
He valued his wife more than diamonds,
To him she was more precious than gold.
Her life wasn't measured by the number of breaths she
would take,
But by the moments when she took his breath away.
Such an untimely death, as he heard the doves lonely song,
He sat there wondering how life could go on.
Here comes the new dawn,
The sun would still shine.
He would remember her beauty,
Until the end on time.
Categories:
end on, death, devotion, hope, loss,
Form:
Verse
>Most fictional books are pretend.
The hero should win in the end.
Unless you write a trilogy.
Each must end on a cliff hanger, agree!
Then the next one, you must buy.
Hoping the hero does not die.
But as it is a trilogy.
You know you'll have to buy book three.
I am not advertising books on here.
I would not do that, do you hear?
Although I do have books of poetry.
Like this they are in print you see.
Today, I am writing on here.
So all of you have nothing to fear.
From Smarty my Search and Rescue Dog.
Not a poetically minded dog.
Although some of my books, he likes to hog.
This verse is getting far too long.
Any more a book will come along.
So thanks Poetry Soup from poet me.
For allowing me to write on thee.
All those words inside my head.
Allowing me to write them here instead.
So as i'm laying in me bed.
Perhaps I will fall asleep instead.
Of keeping them, stuck in my head.
Zzz Zzz Zzz Stanley (The mad Author)<
Categories:
end on, appreciation, books, dog, good
Form:
When sad eyes sink at depth of dark to see
in the niche of soul, still like the deep sea,
find how and where drops you shed go to lie
on the edge of scorched mind till they are dry.
Mind then comes out of smoke to dance with glee
at soft pace like fleet of clouds that moves free
in the blue stretch of no end on the sky
where the life of joy spreads wings and soars high.
Tinged rays of new sun glint the face of gloom,
once more on plants of land gone waste buds bloom.
Touch of hue wafts to the heart that shines bright
as it gets fused with glow of the deep light.
Stream made of drops of grief flows out of heart,
with rhythmic sound of bliss new song will start.
Written : September 25, 2019
March 11, 2020
Contest : Strand Choice C, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Categories:
end on, heartbroken, inspirational, song, sorrow,
Form:
Sonnet
My dear beautiful Rose
the sky becomes darker on this cold night .
The world becomes grey but you shine ever so bright .
Beauty in its purest form, as the shadows crept into my life I became my darkness ... A demon was born,
Tho to you there was no evil in sight ;
You gave up a few of your petals to help me through the storm . In the end on that dark cold night,
You let me pick you from the dirt,
killing you softly just so I could see the light .
Categories:
end on, loss, love, rose,
Form:
Strange though this may be to Admit
Without Delving into my Condition
But I pray each and every night
And wish for nothing more
Than to Pen my Final Verse and Line
And call an end on my late night writing down
What pains me and my desires
So Cometh that Hour
I would like to take the time out to say
I have Cherished every single moment
We have shared together
Its been Emotional
My Kind Regards
Yours Sincerely
I Bid you All
Aidue
Categories:
end on, goodbye,
Form:
Free verse