Best Epilogue Poems
An angel wrote with a golden pen in the marble book of fate.
The ink she used were the tears of men;
The words she wrote: Too late!
To have lived not being loved at all -
hunchbacked like a question mark-
your soul continuously on parole
imagine beauty in the dark
Perhaps we passed each other in the speed
of different trains colliding with the time
in one - abandoned newborn girl in need
the other - useless vagabond and wine.
Was it your Soul who shook the Jacaranda tree
and made it burst and rain with purple fairies?
Or just a whispered cry within the depth of me -
too much horizon and no space for prairies...
Imagine beauty in the dark
When wings demolish walls of sorrow
I'll die again an injured lark
Reborn in Phoenix bird tomorrow.
www.scripca.com
Written November 2, 2015
With my back against the wall
I fall
Down never ending staircases
That spiral down below
To seas where books float downstream
Along open pages reflecting past memories
Spinous leather bound by visionaries
Bookended and upended
I'm nothing but a cog
A pawn in this epilogue
Rosencrantz and Gildenstern are dead
And with them I make my bed
Lost in the littered pages of history
My life is bordering the brink
So does it matter what I think?
You'll miss me if you blink
Writing this book in disappearing ink
Written: May 2nd, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quixotic quest quiddity
As dusk sapidity emerges,
Casting a shadow
Weeping waves smash
in foamy scatters;
seraphic strophic sojourn
groans in a gossamer gaunt
Arid shadows fade.
In a hazy blur,
emptiness lingers.
Shorebirds console each other.
in epicedes of
velvety whispers
and elusive sighs.
Horizon amid
cinereous graffiti of
tear-stained threnody and
raven blooms.
It breaks my heart, too
with crimson, auric, and
plum, plum, purple wings,
why haven't you
returned
to me in spring?
to our moon-smeared love
& diaphanous elixir
amethyst kisses of
emerald ablaze,
spiraling in seductive
sapphire scarlet sounds,
Your love, a fiery flow
Flames aflame,
with gemstones aglow.
Dark ideas settle in
my head is akin to
a tombstone,
Obstructing—my judgment
early hours are lost
in the fog,
their significance dimmed
I succumb to allure
of nightfall and
I shut my eyes.
Acquiesce to inquiry
in heaven, each flower
boasts a mirror
to inveigle into each valley,
Beneath a sky of
countless clouds;
quaint lodge stands out,
surrounded
by a myriad of
shimmering ponds
capture a vast expanse
of coastlines.
Uncharted shores,
where vessels veered
toward vast seas,
untrodden by any praxis
As twilight falls,
coastlines curve in a crescendo
across horizon.
Cloaking hill peaks in mist.
loquacious verbosity
recognized in wisdom
beyond spectrum of
circumlocution.
In a flurry of
fading flowers,
faith-filled fields, &
fugacious felicity.
Snare drum rotunda
somberly chimes
within a forest,
Its dulcet echos rhyme.
We've wandered down
curious trails
basking in the sun
warm embrace;
In depths of shadows,
We've sought with fear,
an ambient arena,
vast and near.
Unveiling a shore infinite,
In an abyss where
every heart resides.
With its boundless skies
Here is the end of the story:
Everything without love is nothing....
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
The feast was all done,
For Grinch and the Who’s,
And after the meal,
Came terrible news.
For Max and the Grinch,
And Who’s gathered round,
No one spoke a word,
Or a single Who Sound.
The mayor spoke up,
About our grinch crook,
Of all that he broke,
And all that he took.
“You still did the crimes,
So you’ll be on trial,
For crimes of last night
And all in your file.”
The chief of police,
Had sprung in a-bound,
He handcuffed the grinch,
And took Max to the pound.
So off they all went,
And hightailed to jail.
The grinch stole from all,
So none would bail.
The grinch shared a cell,
With a cat that is said,
Had terrorized kids,
With a hat on his head.
Along with the cat,
Was a small orange beast,
Harassing the ones,
Who’d cut down all the trees.
A few days had past,
With no time to lose,
He went to a judge ,
And a jury of Who’s.
They mounted their case,
Which started to grow.
When grilling the grinch,
From crimes days ago.
Recordings were there,
And prints were abound,
And from the Roast Beast,
DNA had been found.
His lawyer had rested,
No proof to dispense,
As you could expect,
With public defense.
The trial was quick,
And done in no time,
To choose if the grinch,
Should pay for his crime.
The jury came out,
With none of the strife,
While serving the Grinch,
With thirty to life.
So as for the Grinch,
His heart may be greater,
While stealing Christmas,
He paid for it later.
I think back now to the man I was,
Before I met my friend,
How different I was,
Altogether an average Joe.
I now sit here a nervous wreck,
Dishevelled and unshaven,
Virtually a recluse,
Keeping interaction to a minimum.
I wonder what he did to me,
How he took my mind,
Took my world,
And left me with these horrors.
We briefly met one wild autumn evening,
He never shook my hand,
But uttered those words,
“Allow me to share with you a different view of the world.”
EPILOGUE
The happy man met Kunnegert the giant queen dragon and whispered to her on the subject of universal love (we do not know the exact words he had to use to pacify the beast) and gave the golden sword to her but its brilliance liquefied her eyes. She just vaporized and mixed with the mist, bird-songs and aroma of flowers. She became a fairylike creature named Lylla and befriended Kiki. Kiki’s days rolled with stories of Lylla’s adventures (as Kunnegert, of course). The poets saw Pymy Gruzz playing with the golden sword the happy man gifted him. It was her toy and his age plummeted to 20. Lyle on Lake Obenjinn was happy since then till............................................
History showed 2000 years hence a juvenile race destroyed Lyle with a single hit of H-XX missile.*
*This is the Third and concluding Part of LYLE ON LAKE OBENJINN
(c) RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
14 September,2014
My truth is false,
a glittering overcoat with torn lining,
always catching on good intentions
and jamais vu,
but persona persists
anealed to the base elements
of slipping into a round hole
without scoring.
Time to be fashionable again.
Her fire and slippers call her ever more
The cougar still takes to the dance floor.
The cubs she tries now to entice
Turn and ask her “What's her price?”
Bedecked bejeweled, her senses honed
But sipping vodka shots, still all alone.
The cougar losing her matriarchal hold
Younger cougars compete ever more bold.
Her latest prey so good, she wanted more
Turned in the bed, heard the click of the door.
A tap on the shoulder an aging man stands there
Wrinkled eyes, spare tyre, and thinning hair.
He says he’s watched her for a while
He knows he not quite her style.
Would she partake of a drink with him?
Her eyes wander to the cubs so slim.
Her hem length lengthens, her cleavage covered
The dance floors too loud, she feels smothered,
They now sit in a quite calm restaurant
Holding hands, this is what she wants.
Her cougar days are now ever gone
She has lit the fire with a special one.
Her stiletto shoes gone, they no more make her wince
She kissed the aging man, he turned into her prince.
© ~GG~24/11/2012
Fate has finally caught up with their war crimes
And their memories now recall those bloodied times
The women they raped and the children they killed
The freedom fighters they tortured and the dread they instilled
These were their countrymen, their brothers, their kin
Heady with power and to the devil akin
Tried by the courts and now condemned to die
The noose is finally tightening, their final moments nigh
Following the mayhem, Bangladesh rose like the phoenix
And we followed with bated breath the traumatic experience
The times, they are not a changing, Dylan should now agree
When demented regimes repeatedly run amok, there is no place to flee
Bolehland recorded one of the greatest mystery in modern air travel....
A full passenger jet plane that mysteriously went missing into thin air...
Despite spending millions in a long and exhaustive search...
Nothing of definitive interest came up all through the very costly search...
Spearheaded by experts from Australia, the search scoured the murky depths of the Indian Ocean...
The search extended into months but there was nought to show in the seabed of the mighty ocean...
Now a couple of years later, debris are supposedly being washed up...
It has appeared over there on the sands of distant Madagascar...
With the world moving on, the interest has waned given the numerous false alarms...
Of debris being found occassionaly from that ill fated jet liner...
Now, here it comes, the latest clanger in this saga of MH370.......
The Malaysian consul to handle the return of MH370 debris..
Was found assassinated before the debris were handed over...
What devilry is this, or was there something more sinister...
Could it be mere coincidence or could it be something bigger...
Death stalks mysteriously, or is it cloak and dagger duggery in high circles.....
That masks the mysterious disappearance of passenger jetliner MH370...
Will future illuminative events unfurl or will truth will never be known...
For the 238 death toll on that ill fated jetliner residing in a watery grave in parts unknown......
I feel a heavy weight go down, down, down, down, deep down in my chest,
Like an elevator descending rapidly down a deep dark abyss, and fear crashing in from all sides with all the weight of an ocean breaking loose closing from all sides, the loneliness stings like a nest of desert scorpions, and the desperation consumes me like the venom of a cobra annihilating me a living cell at a time,
They tell me “a will, will find a way”, religions tell me “hold the hand and it will lead thee unto the light ”But there is no pot to whip up will from, and I see no shining being`s hand,
I see no end in sight to this journey through the wasteland.
Could it end in a different way? Logic says Nope,
Yet I harbor a secret hope,
This was not my decision my call, this birth, I did not vote to live,
I am tired of all this negativity and some things got to give.
Books say, the body is temporary, so is the pain salvation is the ultimate goal,
All empty words with no solace and I am yet to see my soul.
What good is a salvation unknown when today passes in pain, what good is the miracle if the thirsty pilgrim dies and then it comes down to rain?
Reach out in the dark and you may feel me somewhere,
Wandering, wondering, dreaming, pondering,
Like a man on an endless plain chased by a pride of lions looking out for a tree,
Let the weight fall down, let the ocean drown, let the scorpion`s sting, and let the poison do its thing.
I don’t care, in the end I just want to be free,
No happiness, no sadness, no pain, nothing and into nothingness..
I wish to where it all began,
On the edge of the death land, beyond. Always beyond.
Daddy, George's eyes are still opened so he's alive
"Lilyann, what the Hell is going on ; Joe call the Police
Tell them we need a couple of ambulances"
Come here little guy, Dad took a hanky out of his pocket
wiped my lips Looks like you lost some teeth
At least they were baby teeth soon 5 Police cars and 2 ambulances
They took Ma'am In her blood soaked dress into the first car
"Wait : Ma'am George said HE LOVES YOU
The next day We all headed to new Foster Homes.
Inspired by YOUTH Dedicated In LOVING MEMORY Of George Francis Murphy
March 3, 1950 --- July 10. 1956 My Brave and Happy Brother