Best End Over End Poems
Connecting with nature
Walking along I find peace…
Autumn leaves surround me
Crunching rhythms at my feet
I Step inside harmony ~
Brown leaves start swirling
A Tiny tornado forming
Admiringly…I stand glowing…
A mighty wind blows off my hat
Quickly…I wonder …what was that?
As I hold onto my head
It blows away end over end
Nature playing games instead
My gracious hat…ahead it blew
I ran after it fast and true~
Blown up against a Willow
Floppy hat blocked indeed
Tiny raindrops starting to fall
Cool drops kiss my cheek
Nature’s spirits forever speak ~
I awoke this morning to find a foot and half of snow all around covering the ground. I
quickly got dressed wearing several layers of clothes. Plus a winter mask to protect my ears
and nose. Snow equals very cold weather. I thought about you, wishing you were here with
me - us together. Yes us together to act silly in this snow so white, and to run from each
other having a snow ball fight. I made sure I grabbed my I-phone and then slipped my
gloves on.
So bright was the pure white snow. I'm just glad the wind didn't blow. I was ready to
begin. I would keep my promise to Charma and build her a snowman.
First you start with a single snowball. The size of a big softball. Not too small. Then
you place it on the ground rolling it around; rolling it end over end. I was determined to
build this snowman for my friend. Round and around on the ground, bigger picking up more
and more snow. Building snowmen you can never out grow. Bigger and bigger it gets until it
is as round and high as a tree. Three giant snowballs for his body you have to admire. I
stacked his giant round snowballs on top of the other which were quite heavy. I managed by
myself which wasn't easy.
Your snowman wasn't complete. I wanted to make him so real like he had a "heart
beat." I went around to my back yard to find a fallen tree limb. I had to have arms for him!
After I put both stick-arms on either side; I returned back inside because there were other
things that must be applied.
Continued in Pt 2
Note: Here's Pt 1 of your snowman poem Charma:)
When angels speak of love
Voices echo but no sound
Comes forth from lips for
They never part
Just the pulsating drums
Rhythmically entrancing
Tis’ the beat of my lover
Her heart’s essence flowing
Eyes closed yet bodies
Knowing real love at first
Sight my life finally has
Purpose to invent poetic
Verses speak only of Jaimee’s
Curses eyes capture my soul
I’m left helpless falling without
End over end and over again
When angels speak of love
You never speak
You just live…
The old Ford truck was dustin’ the gravel roads that day
I was listening to some pounding seventies hits
My second bottle was about empty by my thirst
Nothing much else to do on a hot dry southern day
But drive, drink, and listen to the AM radio
Cruising the hills, hairpin curves, and old wooden bridges
On this particular day, I was feeling just fine
A pint of vodka, grapefruit juice, and a little weed
Lived so far back in the woods, that was my company
A troubled, poor loner, with an old blue pick-up truck
I had driven those back roads over a hundred times
A stop at a bootlegger and a lovely dream ride
This particular day, the tie rod end just broke loose
The steering wheel spun like a top in my fumbling hands
I dived in the floorboard as we went end over end
My Ford and I landed stuck between two cedar trees
I remember the quit ‘cept for the radio
Doors were stuck, so I kicked out the windshield and crawled out
After climbing about halfway up the embankment
I heard the radio still playing back in the truck
It was a Lynyrd Skynyrd classic, my favorite
“Gimme Back My Bullets”
So, I went back down the hill to where the old Ford sat
I climbed on the hood and reached through the shattered windshield
I shut the ignition off and pocketed the keys
As I started back up the embankment, I just laughed
Didn’t matter if the key was on, the truck was totaled
When I reached the road, I flagged an approaching sedan
It was two girls from school looking real scared when they stopped
Trying to look my best with blood running down my face
I said, “You ladies headed my way, by any chance?”
They looked at each other and one of them said, “Where’s that?”
Brushing the broken glass out of my long raven hair
I dusted off my shirt and the tucked it into my jeans
Looking back down at my old truck pinned between those trees
I bent down and looked in the driver’s window and smiled
“Well it don’t matter babe, as long as it’s not here.”
Ended up walking home that day, laughing all the way
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
Drenching louder hunger with an answer to care, you know a senseless prayer.
Tell them to mind it, this, curious as murder with another more vengeful purpose.
How then taken away could I exist?
Never should I know, blindly convinced that an answer without guilt sits guarded.
Drenched and proud, bless this blasphemous pen..until the ink runs end over end.
Tell them to find sin, this, furious and cornered with another for vengeful purpose.
Drenching louder hunger with an answer to care, you know a senseless prayer.
Tell them to mind it, this, curious as murder with another more vengeful purpose.
How then taken away could I exist?
Never should I know, blindly convinced that an answer without guilt sits guarded.
Drenched and proud, bless this blasphemous pen..until the ink runs end over end.
Tell them to find sin, this, furious and cornered with another for vengeful purpose.
the Nulla Nulla passed
in a delicate arch
this was the final throw
no prey or hunters fate awaits
at journeys end
end over end
as the battles before
or terrors that lay behind
fell away,
the Nulla Nulla
becomes one
with mother
again
as this warrior is beaten
with the dust of time,
and wearing
his shroud of birth
tribute is paid and offered
in a thousand thanks to Gaia
as a billion
points of sand
burn his feet
he relishes
his last walkabout,
merging into
a shimmering mirage
within the dreamtime,
the serpent
writhes in joyous welcome,
at his homecoming
There is quick snap to February's wind
tossing the limbs end over end.
Little buds cling on tight, waiting for the
sun's warmth to remove winter's bite.
Leaves are scattered here and there, but
the gates of the park are open everywhere.
Children laughing and playing still, they pay
no notice that spring has yet to make it here.
The smell of coffee brewing is in the air, warm
mittens & scarfs in cheerful colors, stand
out everywhere. February's sky filled with grey
leaves not a person in the park in disarray.
The Faller
He stands at the edge of a tall mountain looking down the sheer drop.
Seconds pass.
The man jumps!
Nothing stops his fall.
Rocks smash his frail limbs like matchsticks.
End over end till he finally hits the valley floor 2,800ft below,
his body a bloody broken mass.
Why did he jump?
Suicide?
No.
Because he enjoys it.
He's the faller.
This jump is his 318th off this mountain.
Broken limbs, pulped body, severed head, fatal injuries and death
are an occupational hazard.
It's ok.
The destructive injuries vanish after 30 minutes and
the faller is as fit as a butcher’s dog
and mad as a psychopath to jump again.
Witness a freak: the faller.
Where, when, and how will it happen?
If I ask questions, I receive questions
Of adoration. Silence ensues.
In worriment, I catch a look
On my lady's face, and come
To realize her head is spinning.
Mediums between tongues tumble,
Tangled in arms, clinging between rings
As glances unravel social instability.
Affection answers hope valiantly,
Subsiding gracefully as
A raging fire would on a cold, dark night.
My lady follows in smiles and laughs,
Free from the shade, dancing
With no resolve, encasing
The components of a natural beauty.
I graze curves with hungry hands
And drive home, loving insatiably.
Although flames feed the hungry superfluously,
The lovely lairs where guardians wage war
Lie unknown to the conscious. The scrupulous
Droves defend onslaughts against entrances.
True love is angelic, demonic,
Coaxing the levity of everyday life.
End over end, minute over minute,
Medleys stir and absolve while forging
With dormant love pleas. Please
Don't leave me here, tumbling
Alone among questions of silence,
Turbulence, trust and wanton reason.
Everything is solvent
As the moon looms over the horizon,
But words which wander wonderfully
In person parade wistfully
In absence and shed
Tears when no one is looking.
Primitive stirrings tinge my sleep.
Dawn’s grey mist welcomes my awakening coherence.
I traverse ice bound fields of summer’s past glory,
in search of winged game from the north.
I search for tundra dwellers that flee winter’s bleak death.
I seek the airborne migrants,
who call upon the brisk sting of morning chill.
Decoys are arranged on the shore of a vast waterway.
A believable trap is set.
I camouflage under the protection of a dormant tree.
Yellow grass, evidence of the forgotten warmth of longer days,
shields me from sharp eyes.
Peering out from the spent vegetation, I wait.
Scanning horizons with eyes and ears for the anticipated geese.
A soul chilling cold seeps beneath my layers.
My fingertips numb beneath stilled gloves.
They clutch the metallic instrument of death in my lap.
I fight urges to flee this hostile and frozen landscape.
Ice islands float about the closing waters of the reservoir,
pushed by stinging winds.
The breeze rustles the decayed plant life of the bottoms.
Finally I hear the call,
a shrill squawk of defiant life.
The gaggle approaches my deliberate display.
I bring the gun to braced shoulder.
The safety comes off.
A gliding bird is singled out as prey.
A fevered rush of frantic energy swelled through my rigid body.
Time condensed before untaken breath.
The metal trigger wrote smoke and flash to the once silent scene.
The acrid smell of gunpowder over fresh snow brought delight.
The bird’s flight was shattered.
End over end and downward the feathered being fell.
Bolting to it’s place of final rest,
I did not hesitate.
The last remnants of life I took with unashamed hands,
Ending the suffering of the magnificent creature.
Blood stained the pure backdrop of crystal waters and fine snow.
We were alone on the frozen shore.
In tribute to the fragile life I had ended,
I would with gratitude and awe,
make feast of the succulent flesh of my kill.
I dream into tomorrow….
Because I can not see yesterday
I lie awake ponder forever
I see all that was and will be
If creation decrees
I dream into tomorrow
because I can’t see beyond my tragedies
I stand and watch the car drive away
With it goes tomorrows aspirations
A smile echoes in my aftermath
I turn to watch the photo fall
End over end like stills stuck in a projector
Imagery shatters, tumbling frame and all
I sweep the shards of the broken glass
I have ruined the families memories
I slump to my knees with a sigh
I trace the sharp edges
I feel the need to cut way my decay
With shards, I have found in my yesterday
I dream into tomorrow….
Because I can not see yesterday
I still here pondering, still
I see all that was and will be
as creation decrees
I dream of tomorrow
because I can’t see beyond my tragedies
I dream only of the coming rain
Because the sunshine of yesterday has faded all away.
The cute, lisping leather jacket
births from the door like
God's only child
and coos on the phone to
God
knows whom.
He is the messiah
the one we've been waiting for.
Beautiful browned skin isn't
what the good were expecting
But,
it is He who takes my
breath (with a veiled sashay)
He who makes the
waters ebb and sway
the flowers grow old and
our earth shake
(as fine bone china
plates fall end over end
and break)
The cute lisping Latino boy.
Freedom
The world is spinning upside down
Take your beliefs
And toss them outside the window
Let your hair flow free
Raise your hands and shout
It's another day and we're runnin'
Livin' life on the edge
High on life and high on speed
We're a trailblazing people
Take a breath
Can you feel it?
Everything is going black and white
The lights are flashing
Reality is bouncing before your eyes
Let your muscles tense
Everything is going end over end
Livin' life on the edge
High on life and high on speed
We're a path creating people
Take a breath
Can you smell it?
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Feel the wind in your hair
The caress of the wild side
It's quite beautiful
But not as beautiful
As the freedom we allow ourselves
Take a chance, take a swing
Can't get a grand slam without trying
And take a deep breath
We're going again
The world is spinning upside down
The lights are flashing
So toss them outside the window
Let your muscles tense
Raise your hands and shout
Livin' life on the edge
High on life and high on speed
We're a path creating people
Take a breath
Can you go again?
Is having something that can never be met,
That absolute routine of life,
the year to year grind.
The one that causes the loop to be infinite,
work to be done…
to be begun
Begin
…and repeated by none?
infinite loops normally cause
entire systems to become
Destructive and dangerous
corrupt, cruel n cold…
instructions spin from spool to spool
to the next infinity
until it is either is stopped
Or interrupted
code that keeps running
forever terminating
Repetition without end
Day in day out end over end
Picking up the date in another few hours
having someone that can never be met,
That absolute routine your afterlife
the year in to year out grind, sublime.
Something or one that causes
the loop to be infinite, indefinite…
work to be done, won, spun,
to be begun
Begin
…and repeated by none.
A cardboard box tumbles
Down the dark and empty street.
Cold gray houses stand watch,
No life within, their voices stilled,
Their wide eyes vacant.
On the porches furniture shrouds
Flap and tear in the bitter wind.
Dry leaves swirl and whisper.
Do these sentinels remember?
Do they see a different time?
Surely they are waiting
For the children’s laughter,
The banging screen door,
The clatter of skateboards,
People calling from the street?
Do they long for summer -
Sweet, salty air blowing
Through their open doors,
The smell of beach roses,
The squeaking of a porch swing?
Do they recall a warmth of sun
Soaking into their brittle,
Cold, arthritic bones?
For now, though, they stand waiting,
Staring down the empty street,
Watching the cardboard box
Tumbling end over end
Along the dusty road,
Watching the dry leaves swirl
And spin into small tornadoes,
Watching for summer.