Best End Point Poems
WINTER JOURNEY’S END
Their calculations must have been at fault
Their instruments in need to calibrate
That wandering star’s location in the vault
Had seemed a compass true, inviolate
The auguries had all concurred to say
Event of moment in the cosmic scheme
To change the world forever come what may
Would come to pass; they’d seen it all in dream
Yet here they found themselves upon that night
Within a byre with beasts and men unblest
To witness scene both rude and recondite
The focus and the end point of their quest:
Young mother - fate to suffer, heart to bleed
Child God incarnate, laid in cattle feed
Let us come to measure sky,
It's length, breadth
height, weight, width, area
everything, everything to be measured.
Sitting on the back of cloud,
flying to end point of sky,
And thus,
to uplift our stature and head.
If, measuring tape will not support
We will measure with our hand
And go up to moon
Moon, that comes to our lap
With every call of our mom.
We will play there,
revolving round and round,
on the dusty & wavy ground.
Then again, we have to measure
the hidden sound of lullaby
that mother used to sing,
The eternal love that grow within us
with soft tender wing, hidden under hill.
At the evening, we’ll return back
jumping from that high,
Let us come to measure sky,
Let us come to measure sky.
We will suppose to measure
The distance of land of stars
With the support of a rope
Stretching from heart of moon
And fixing with the soul of sun.
We have to measure
The intensity of glow of each star
Where our grand parents
breathing their pleasant life,
and blessing us to stay peace.
And at last,
We have to step ahead
to visualize the Sun
measuring intensity of its ray,
Temperature in June
And temperature in May.
Everything we have to weigh.
We know,
Our mind is enlightened with whose light,
Our heart is so strong with whose heat,
Our soul is like ocean, grown from which point,
He is our father, light of our day,
Let us come to measure sky,
Let us come to measure sky.
=============================
This is my story…
A headless lighter, a writer
Mix up with silver long metallic
Make the agitations clear cold then warm
Neurons from above became so clear
I can hear my heartbeats like a doldrums
Because I’m just a woman with a perfect body
But now, it turned flat because of my past histories
My body was an image of different sceneries and echoes
That’s why I burned this five handed plant to disturb mosquitos
That anytime can suck my blood from within,
but their proboscis injected the smoke from the air
it became toxin for my veins, a bad effect to alter my inner beauty
and then the sensation…
Where am I?
This game was made by the influence of black society,
Their intentions were white but the grey matter strikes
Then now it became black…
My past that filled with conqueror, with their influence
They kidnapped my siblings, my children
My past that burdened with rapist
They took it all for me… everything…
And now… recollections…
The only way to forget these
Is by getting in again with their systems
Again use their solid potions
To forget everything, my life, my history, my spirit
Out of hue,
Every time.. again… I see myself in black, I knew
…
But all have their end point of time…
I want to find myself again… Where is Mary Jane?…
The real, new… Mary Jane of Barangay Tibay
I deduce, and then seduce it to bring back my old persona
To write another chapter...
but its too late..
I heard some footstep like a machinegun
In this dark room where I have surrendered
Since yesterday…
Is this because, now I realize the real meaning of life?
But he arbitrate that my half still in pain
And still…
Can a beast… can destroy the equity
from the green inferno?
In my instance, the beast coincide
Like a cannibal longing for a fresh meat
in the middle of extinction…
…
“Who are you?” “What are those?”
Mary Jane Said.
The looks were so unfamiliar
He grabbed me… he undressed me
He gave me what he think I deserve…
All became so clear….
Finally I met Him…
And there’s a red blanket everywhere
My heart starts to stop
My spirit try to comeback
But then…
I found myself at the ground,
And then he found a home inside my body
A grief for my grave
There’s no chance to paint back myself
K is an eleventh letter
Eleven, written like a road of ember--
Like two sticks standing upright
Like two wands of magical sight.
K is the commencement of man's fate
End point of man's action to date
K is when you fly a toy in the air
Feels like you're floating without snare
K has four points
Like the four corners of a book without joints
Or a laptop with smooth edges
Viewing nature-crafted ridges
K is the root of giving
A trait that never die in living
K is when you praise a good deed
A greeting that grows and never bleed
K can be a nocturnal animal
Playing around like a live toy in a musical
K is when you express your affections
A sign of respect and love in all directions
K can be defined in many ways
All good thoughts and notions of the human race
K is like a bent cross
Carried by the Savior who died not a boss
K, for short, is just fine
Specially when you care and share when you dine!...
Don’t Talk About It—Write About It
As a writer and a poet, sometimes people ask me how I
do, what I do, every day as I research themes and topics
for poems or prose works that I want to write about and
develop for potential publication in the future.
The “how I do” and the “what I do” with regard to my
everyday writing on any given theme or group of themes
are predicated on the active notion that I don’t, as a rule,
talk idly about people, topics or themes per se, rather I go
ahead and focus exactly on a certain theme or subject of
interest, and then I begin to write about it.
What’s the magic formula for doing all of this research
and active committed work associated with professional
writing? The answer can be summarized in two words:
Hard Work! If one is not willing to engage and to put the
effort and work into any certain writing endeavor, a true
quality writing product won’t be the result.
I write because I enjoy writing very much. Poetry is the
one literary undertaking that I like to do the most. I find
often that writing poetry has helped me to focus, and then
to write on given ideas, topics or themes more succinctly.
When a person sees a book of poetry that has, for example,
200 poems listed in it, just think of each poem, in essence,
as its very own story.
Concerning the infamous “Writer’s Block” syndrome, all
I can say is that a writer or any aspiring writer just needs
to keep working away at their various writing efforts and
never give up. Having the requisite skills and talent to be
an effective and interesting writer, poet, or novelist are a
given. Yet, one also needs a high degree of raw moxie and
a measure of commitment and steadfastness too, in order
to see any writing venture or product to its end point, and
especially toward eventual publication.
My final closing thought concerning the writing of poetry
and prose, and any other literary endeavors, in general, is:
Don’t Talk About It—Write About It!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 31, 2018 (Narrative)
Dream to shine, like a meteoric and dazzling son,
To remove the darkness from the universe,
So never stop dreaming, to accomplish your aim
Dream to pluck up courage to be bold enough,
To force the windstorm to change its direction,
So never stop dreaming to focus on your target.
Dream to glare like a moon beaming with pride
To shower rain of brightness in human lives,
So never stop dreaming to keep your promises
Dream to have the courage of convictions and belief
To conquer the typhoon to protect the creatures.,
So never stop dreaming to reach your end point.
Dream to soar up above the crazy blue sky
To collect innovative ideas for human welfare,
So never stop dreaming to accomplish your goals.
Dream to be a good and kind human being,
To spread the message of peace and prosperity,
So never stop dreaming to espouse the humanity
Dream to be a bold and valiant soldier,
To uproot the terrorism from the earth,
So never stop dreaming to achieve your mission.
Dream to swim deep into the dark blue sea
to measure the depth of its fathomless kingdom
So never stop dreaming to sink into depth of nature
Dream to climb the snowy peaks of mount Everest
To imbibe the eternal incandescence of pinnacles
So never stop dreaming to get lost in nature's heig
Terrorism is the new face of barbarism
Decades passed since barbarism eradicated
But our earth is once again confiscated
Emerged by intimidation of terrorism
A war loaded with ammunition
A threat at a gunpoint
That's somehow becomes end point
Here terrorism won over humanity
Mankind,killed with insanity
Gods benevolence somehow disappears
Then terrorists suddenly appears
Tricks everyone and enter with slow pace
And bloodbath whole of the place
At first firing and screaming heard
Then the noises of weeping,tears shed
Souls departs from the dead
Witness the brutal world but their questions left unanswered
That why innocents life became blurred
Gradually their body rests in grave , not in peace but in rage
Life turned dark because there is no one longer for family to camoulfage
Every person on earth interrogates
That why on earth terrorists do blood shed
Why they let many tears shed
From where they come from
Neither for cast,nor for nationality
But their hearts are filled with brutality
These are not the war against region
But the wars against humanism
The barbarism now termed as terrorism
They did what they had learnt
by slaughtering the one who comes in Front
Nobody knows why they quench for war
Why they want to pile up the corpses
Perchancly they got pride instead of remorses
War by war they becomes more maleficent
Destroy the world which once was magnificent
Aftermath was very catastrophic
Now terrorism is the new face of barbarism
Because barbarians has no culture and civilization
STARRY NIGHT
Conditions perfect on that starry night
With hunters' moon illuminating land
They crossed the coast, a ribbon gleaming white
That peaceful scene no threat to their command
In symmetry advance red rose formation
Untroubled as in civil formal dance
Accompanied by Merlin murmuration
One single driving focus no backward glance
A night that would enhance a summer dream
When constellations tell romantic tales
As lovers gaze each others eyes that gleam
With promise: their devotion never fails
But look their end point no longer clandestine
Neath starlit sky it lay, fair city of Dresden
black gravity
vortex deep well
singularity
since that day when i was alone..
i was sitting in a broken chair..
looking at a tree trashed by fire blown..
wondering whether you were a hero or evil
saviour...
i tried a lot to extinguish that fire..
i tried a lot to compensate with an
armour..
again your angel vibes comes thru d
woods allure..
tym hs nt taught me to neglect your evil
behaviour...
i pushed myself back as i always do..
i pushed you away by negotiating ds
endurance...
its a battle btw mind , heart n also my
soul sue..
evil saviour z nw turning into hero
appearance..
my heart n mind merge at an end point..
its a clear vision of having him with open
arms..
after all it's an end of that fight in my
mind sight...
evil saviour has become my heart saviour
it storms..
love pari
if u liked d poem or evn if u hate it..plz gv
me ur feedback through ur cmnts..i wl
apreciate it..
Permanent steps to a height reached by a very few
Reputation highly recognized is the end point
Irreversible standards working hand in hand with personal convictions
Not everyone with friends and family inclusive may approve
Identity is formed which sits on the sofa of respect
Purely executed without a second thought- no going back
Laws of nature as well abide by them to stay distinguished, and can be
Established through discipline’s tutorials
So that life and character stay different and unique
Leave my crossed, and take this poem.
Give it to the Sun, Punch, and Dailytrust;
Before i ascend my realm,
I want to read it.
I come to this city all innocuous,
working hard, I found nothing untainted,
I became super rich, and became anxious
Sad unlike the time i was wretched.
All i saw was money and happiness
religions, morals, ethics were all hitch
Then happiness translated into sadness
I am God, money and my soul are attach
And fear of loosing my money rejuvenate
It overshadowed my sadness and pain
For its more than grieve to deviate
Or to undone the devil vow of no gain
Tomorrow may be to late for my poem
Go and check the Poetry-Soup Site
From the learners of rhymes, and form
To relieved my end taste
Don't relate with established poets
And not those that explain death trade
And not those that had published taste
But an amateur, with mind of De- Sade
Also check Silent One, and Skat A.
Their mind may smoothen my route
To work with their eyes, minds, and ears
To feel their low, and highest thought
That simply poem that no one comment
That took them night and night to wrote
That no one claim they tacit it content
Word by word, and worth by worth
Check Poetry-Soup deep, and deep
They had more than thirty thousand poets
Bring that Poems that will last for keep
For i had come to my end point
So Let their poems cleanse me
Let their pen-wrath suffocate me
Let their stanza buried me
Let their rhyme darken me grave
If I can't reach tomorrow
Let my peom do, it's important
More than my M.O.N And More-
Than my expired breath, he said;
The newspapers came out around nine
And he died around two in the morning
Left with two imbecile, blind children
Only me, and his money not blind
TO YOU
EACH time I saw you grow into a lovely pretty, adorable girl, I knew I was safe not to worry about you getting hurt or even failing in life.
You had that radiant smile that could have possibly lit the entire town and your beauty was not seen by ordinary eyes, but eyes that were able to hold on much longer
Do you still remember those days when you said you didn’t want to do something? Of course sometimes I wanted to hit you hard ,to remind you that you’re a child that had to obey yet you disobeyed, but as I got to know baby sister, I got it that you just never wanted to push you to that end point where you couldn’t breathe, and that you had just been faithful enough to let me know that you are maybe tired or maybe some other time .well you are no other child who will rather tell you yes yet in fact they badly want to say no or even cry. I like your honesty and what does that mean baby, I will always trust you to the end, for you have proved to that
And today 12/01/2017 you made me the happiest sister ever when you proved people wrong, when you pulled it out and sadness held their eyes like death was just nearby baby, I wanted to dance or maybe sing but what song could fit my joy, my love, or even how much my dream of you shining my love and so I smiled while writing you something I know you might not get.
All in all I want you to know that my promises to you will never change even when life has to get tough and the suffering an understatement I will try for I have always tried to reach your dreams and what can change now when all I have you
How I wish you did continue laughing with that laughter that not only brings me close to you but also reminds me of the gift our parents brought to the world.
Stay calm girl.
Renitah
Keeping away fear as my determination
conquers the dark caves wrath,
My braveness is proven to be superstition
as my thoughts are bold.
My footsteps are covered with the oath
to reach the end point old
My ideas experiences growth,
As I learn to move in darkness,
My manhood is no longer a choice
But a taste of braveness
So I can be heard from my voice
As the only witness to move
Through the dark cave.
Available options stand the bile as they make the will bent
Massachusetts may be best for the holiday to be spent
But the rod of its weather may hit the comfort of its rent
Indecision, glorified from knowledge’s available dent
Vague is their understanding to a result from what they meant
Abstract control and power, making the priest eat meat in lent
Light, maybe heavy, not knowing where the definition went
Eight out of twenty, in idea makes contribution absent
No end point, as in midway, the anger of shortcoming vent
Thought or decision, on many roads, leading to no tent