Best Endings Poems
We hadn't planned his birth like this...
Taking breaths as I was taught,
the pain dissolved my gallant front
and tears have come from eyes squeezed shut
I heard a voice unlike my own
The room is filled with some concern
I groan, the doctor takes a turn
Quick-fire decision, a swift incision
... a tug, a void,...a cry... a baby born..
The next several hours are a bit of a blur
until everything clears, alone in my room
on sterilized sheets, too stiff, too sleek,
too fragrant of bleach, to think about sleep.
Suddenly, all I can think about is mother
and how different it was for her,
especially, since her young husband was so far away
This miracle I bore, as soft as fine silk,
with tiny closed fists, rose-petal nails
fills me with joy, with relief, I am filled
with a deep pang of grief
for a long ago thief
I can feel the connection, mixed joy, and compassion
I'm bathed in the scent of my brand new beginning ......
But my thoughts stream back to a time long ago
to a hope that ended that I've been told
My mother in bed, after losing her first....
So young, in her bed, without child,........ bleeding red
from the war that she fought, while my Dad fought his own
I cry tears all alone.... for the grief that she owned
as I cherish the breath.....of this babe on my breast
The circle of life, starts with birth .....sometimes, death
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3/14/14
Contest: A Hundred In a Row
Sponsor: PD
Endings or beginnings, there's reason for change
circling around me, are seasons, rearranged
As we say farewell to our place in the sun
Goodbye to our cove on the beach and the fun,
but hello to the chores, and sweeping leaves by the door
With the first icy fingers , hoar frost on the windows,
we'll attack and will stack all the chairs in the garage.
We'll put back barbecues, while the rake, and the hoe,
are in charge of our life, till that last leaf is gone
Take a cue, shortening days, and the color of dawn
Dew on the lawn, wet days, and light snow,
tell us that nature, abundant with harvest,.. grows
and is bringing a new brilliant show.
Blossoms are fading, and gold leaves are falling
The acorns are dropping and bouncing like rain
A north wind is brewing with clouds on the horizon
promising raindrops. Jack Frost on the sill!
Now is time when the year curves around,
for, summer is fading, soon, and winter will fall
Daylight is shrinking, with more time for thinking
of pencils, and school-books and buses in yellow
Horizons are purple, with brilliance that sizzles
blazing the hillside, while aspens are shivering.
The whole world is spread with a bright golden band
shouting with color, while painting our land.
Sun ripened trees, are stirred in the breeze
The scent of ripe apples alive in the trees
Popcorn and football, and nights at the movies
Endings, beginnings, let's give them a whirl...
Time for reflection, all's right with the world !
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For Contest: "Seasonal"
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
9/20/15
The words we speak in poesy,
Dance through the pages of history;
All the verses and all the rhymes,
Take all of us into more pensive times.
Where trickle of words that flow from pen,
Bring us from beginning down to the end;
But in between there are stories to tell,
That can hold us all in a magic spell.
Portraits of birds looking their best,
Proudly sitting on eggs in a downy nest;
Tales of all the earth's funny creatures,
With so many faces, all different features.
Tales of the sun shining her light,
In a blue sky with clouds in flight;
Then there's another of a corpulent moon,
Skipping her moonbeams to a merry tune.
And armies of ants that travel in rows,
Carrying their bounty to where nobody knows;
Then there are the people, all different shades,
Marching to music through life's parade.
So we can see that poems are a best friend,
They take us to beginnings that have no end.
Burnished bronze, tarnished teal,
flare warnings yield to winds of steel.
Their urge to jump, to flee and hide
cuts off the warmth for suicide.
They leap and land at such a cost,
far flung debris- refulgence lost.
They shrivel brown, dark fibers done,
decay beneath the wayward sun.
Their shredded shells in supine piles,
small hells ignite by human wiles.
Gray smoking wraiths slip out to sigh,
soar off to smear the flannel sky.
Green progeny will take their turn.
One chance to live is what they earn.
Hauntingly explicit, plighted
in yesterday's cloaked mystery,
wafting as whispers through
wistfully grayed memories on dimly
recalled moonlit indulgences,
winding imprecise hazy endings
beyond darkly covert horizons
love isn't blind, it's persistently unsighted
by distantly echoed adrift endings
I think of you badly,
I yearn for you crazily
Passionately in wanting
Obsessively in needing
and I dream of you,
your fingertips all over
my chapters
in search of faith's
happy endings.
Every night I wait for you
to come to me
I let you taste the feel of me
an emotion deep inside your heart
lingering softly, whispering secretly
Alone you are in my thoughts
Your spirit is in my breath
You have crawled into my heart
rocking me fast asleep.
Oh how I crave your scent on my pillow,
feel the warmth of your soft skin.
savor a kiss on your moist lips,
have your hair cascade onto my chest.
Heaven is speaking loudly
telling me you are the one,
I am coming for you my darling
we'll make all our feelings a home.
Steel upon endings
Taken by fate, to a subway of feelings
Caverns which reap what I call
Beacons of hope at the end often stealing
Fixtures in spite of it all
Counting the tracks of a firm destination
Purchasing tickets to share
Fear stands my heart of my own hesitation
Wondering if you are there
Whistles a’ call and the watchman he carries
Candles of flickering flame
Dancing like wings on the shoulders of fairies
Illumined this night to remain
Standing alone on this platform libation
Drinking the sights I do see
Pacing my walk as my feet they do hasten
Bounding so effortlessly
Hearing the rumble of steel upon endings
Narrow the edge where I wait
Moving along with the answers depending
Finding the hour is late
Darkness invades past the lights ever keeping
Colors to turn on in time
Riding this train of a heart constant weeping
Until the day you are mine
Taken, by fate, to a subway of feelings
Caverns which reap what I call
Beacons of hope at the end often stealing
Fixtures in spite of it all
Counting the tracks of a firm destination
Purchasing tickets to share
Fear stands my heart of my own hesitation
Wondering if you are there
Whistles a’ call and the watchman he carries
Candles of flickering flame
Dancing like wings on the shoulders of fairies
Illumined this night to remain
Standing alone on this platform libation
Drinking the sights I do see
Pacing my walk as my feet they do hasten
Bounding so effortlessly
Hearing the rumble of steel upon endings
Narrow the edge where I wait
Moving along with the answers depending
Finding the hour is late
Darkness invades past the lights ever keeping
Colors to turn on in time
Riding this train of a heart steady weeping
Until the day you are mine
Real love stories never have endings. Time has cast a spell on you,
So you won't ever forget it. Breathe...
Take in the light of the universe. Let its energy course through your body like an infectious joy disease. Breathe ... You are connected to the source from which all is created and conceived. Possibility is unavoidable, limit a trivial point of ill logic. Breathe ... Know that everything that happens today is for your betterment and for the betterment of everything and everyone around you, thus, everything is wonderful. Breathe ... Contemplate and marvel at life's perfection, the mystery that is this infinity of which you are a vital part. Realize that we are all particles in a singular entity and every day grants us the opportunity to contribute to the health and well-being of that entity.
Breathe... Love... Be.
Embrace the Day!
You are dead now and I am sorry,
For all of the things you thought I should have been,
For all of the things you wanted me to be for you,
I hope that you feel your burden of life is lifted,
And shared by a circle of angels.
For you were once a kind lady,
Fun and laughter were your glow,
A proud and caring grandmother,
Funny stories- I remember,
The only person I knew who ate egg and chips on Christmas Day,
And wore bright colors in her hair.
You sat by my dog and held his head whilst he died,
Because we were far away,
You spoke kindly of me once,
Made me believe I was beautiful,
I know you loved music and a pint of lager in your hand,
And your Welsh accent rang out at many a merry gathering.
Yet even though you are gone,
I cannot pretend it was all happy memories,
It would be a lie and I won’t tell it,
Just because I’m sorry you are dead.
You were often cruel,
You humiliated the ones I love dearly,
Expected our lives to fit perfectly with yours,
You lost many who loved you,
Pushed them away and made them feel small.
But I forgive you because I know,
That your unkindness came from an unhappy place inside of you,
And you suffered greatly for it at the end,
I hope you can forgive yourself,
For refusing to be loved and healed.
I hope you find the peace you wanted,
Wherever you may be now,
I hope the world turns how you wish it to,
Now that you have left it far behind.
Most of all I hope,
That your soul can move beyond all of the bitter endings you created,
And find love and kindness once more,
So that we can remember you fondly and talk of you gladly.
Along the coast, I taste your scent
While vapor of mist claims the morn;
To brush spiced memoirs, now forlorn
Ending vows without my consent.
AWTE code
Captcha Contest sponsored by Judy Konos
3/14/2015
Saw Brecht rolling in his grave
And Weill gasping for air.
And the masterful Brecht rave,
And rant and try to be fair.
(if that is possible for his rage,)
that audience-tested Happy endings
by TV and Hollywood rule the age
and color rosy, these times' being
With gorge rising say, we all love
Those Happy Endings, so addicted
And far into labored joy they shove
Thus, the truth of our lives we ignore
With plenty of joy and sorrow sure,
And lead so willingly by the "corps."
Rather blunt...those sometime endings,
those endings that are too proud to filter their
existence.
They’ve walked with me for ages, and yet, I
can’t accept the interval of their visits;
the tragedy of minutes, unpredicted, disturbingly
naked and merciless upon my greatest hours.
Sometimes and ever so occasionally, reality weeps,
and we choose to imitate these bold hints.
Like the hawk, dipped in mortality. It never sleeps
during these periods of gloomy melody.
Where does he creep?
To dim chapels filled with tearful saints, accepting
the significant departure of friends in transition;
Observe the necessary podium for those in spiritual
authority; listen the for sympathetic tissue in his speech.
The storm wages on to another sphere.
We all court the infamous no when yes isn’t available.
Indeed, when I stumble sometimes, the hawk catches
my stool, and allows humanity to come tumbling down.
But as breathless seeds succumb to droughts and Gods
period draws closer, I find myself with more chapters to
explore, and the reassurance that today’s finale is not yet
mine.
I pray that when the rain does form among my surroundings,
I’ll be judged kindly during this brazing period, and no
blemish shall prosper.
One can only withstand a brief taste of sometimes presence,
during these sometime endings.
You stand there, breaking
I think about endings
Now everything leaves.
Happy Endings
A long day in the office is just a prelude
to the kaleidoscopic formations
gathered beneath store front close out sales
and pigeon feathers as I head for the station,
the five o’clock hopefully on time
Strolling down the naked street,
I follow brick facades and paint chipped doorways,
listening to music from open windows above,
static to the sleeping trios
with silenced violins in cases of quarters
Whiskey bottle wind chimes
tinkle on the curb in high pitched sonatas
floating on waters from washed dogs and cars,
denting front lawns in tread mark stupidity
as the city pulls out the stops
Sirens join in the festivities,
out of tune with hopes for happiness,
but running red lights just the same
as envious teenagers fall from death metal
logo’d skateboards, tearing already torn jeans
And as I wonder why no one smiles anymore,
a yellow cab stops, the back window rolls down
“Need a lift buddy?” and before I can answer
I see her as she pats the seat next to her
and motions me in
As the car pulls away I ask, “Where we headed?”
“To the sunset, I hear it’s beautiful this time of day”
she giggles then leans over and kisses me
“How was your day handsome?” she asks like a song
“Perfect now, I just love happy endings”