Possessing that beauty of the final girl,
known to all as the queen of screams.
Exaggerated and full of dramatic flair,
she sees Samhain in a plain pumpkin.
Known to all as the queen of screams,
a harrowing silence often precedes her.
She sees Samhain in a plain pumpkin,
hidden scars come out with a dull glow.
A harrowing silence often precedes her,
even with lips painted sinful burgundy.
Hidden scars come out with a dull glow
fanning the ancestral spirit in the air.
Even with lips painted sinful burgundy,
the shadows obey and conceal fear.
Fanning the ancestral spirit in the air,
brazen belief is always at your back.
The shadows obey and conceal fear,
exaggerated and full of dramatic flair.
Brazen belief is always at your back,
possessing that beauty of the final girl.
The last leg of the fight
The final round of quitting
How quaint to say the final quit
How ironic I must sprint to stop
Years of wildling down and retrying
Years of saying this time is different
However, this difference has a difference
However inane, God delivered a new purpose
Truly every round was different
Truly these chains became rope
Today I cut that rope
Today I free myself
The finale sadly doesn’t exist
The finale is never being out of the fight
I will walk tomorrow and the next day lighter
I will always stay at war but it will be just an amber
The King of Terrors comes not with
a sudden roar, but as a quiet shadow falling across the final door.
He sits upon no mortal throne,
A quiet shadow, vast and lone,
On silent, unreturning wing.
The pulse grows slow, the candle
dims,
The noisy world begins to fade,
A quiet stilled through all the limbs,
A quiet peace within the shade.
They call him dread, they call him
night,
The final end of earthly tears,
Yet past the gloom there waits the
light,
Beyond the king of all our fears.
They arrive at the start of spring,
In the morning light, they sing,
On branches high they dance,
Daringly reaching for the sky, taking a chance.
Emerald leaves sway gently
in the breeze,
A soothing sound spreads among
the trees.
Beneath Summer’s warmth they drink and drink,
In various colours displaying their
beauty, glittering in sync.
Then in a blink comes autumn’s call,
Turning emerald leaves to gold and
red,
Each leaf’s vein bleeds,
And in a final twirl to the ground,
they gracefully fall.
By Zyrool
9/26
Contest: In The Stars
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
For all we try to be and do;
For all we try to say or not say;
For all the time given in life to us;
For all our choices to go or stay.
Indeed, it matters much about us;
About all we contribute to the journey;
About all our sucesses and failures.
But there's far more to it than us alone.
Call it the Stars, Fate, or Happenstance.
Call it the Universe if we so choose.
Credit ourselves when we win;
And blame others when we lose.
The Stars said, "Neither strolls,voices,
Nor visions dwell with me".
Fate said, "When in time you come
My way, remember that I have neither
Say nor influence".
Happenstance said, "I have neither
Consciousness, control, nor creativity".
And lastly, Universe said, "Although I
Appear to be an ever seeing eye, an
Overseer I am not".
From where will the final answer come?
To whom then may we turn for appeals?
Who will be the ultimate judge of us all?
Stars? Fate? Happenstance? Or Universe?
Or, will we hear the voice of God saying,
"Come unto me"?
The cardboard cylinder begins
to peek,
The prognosis is grim, the
outlook is bleak.
Only three sheets left on this
spinning white wheel,
And I'm starting to think about
how I should feel.
The plush, quilted days of my
youth have all passed,
When I unrolled with abandon
and lived life as fast.
Now the perforations are
marking the clock,
As I desperately downsize my
remaining stock.
Will I go out on glory, a two-ply
embrace?
Or be wiped from existence
with no saving grace?
The roll spins much faster the
closer it gets
To the end of the tube and a pile
of regrets.
I am down to the glue on the
very last square,
Just a ghost of a tissue, a
whisper of air.
So remember me kindly,
unspoiled and undone,
It was a beautiful, two-ply,
magnificent run.
One- Liner
Like the last square of paper
on a spinning brown roll,
we're all just clinging to the
cardboard at the end of the
bowl.
“All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
Childhood's magic once cast spells of wonder.
Wildwood berries turned to pirate's plunder.
That bright hummingbird, extraordinary,
in flight, became a wish-bestowing fairy.
Then, imagination made a carpet fly.
Men were heroes, never falling from the sky.
I miss that genie spell that lasts but twenty years.
I kiss childhood goodbye as it disappears.
You had to say goodbye.
Gently kissed the tears from my eyes.
Soon we will meet again.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
If I could meet you for one last time
I'd smile through the pain of losing you
As my tears start to fall, I'd look away
You're leaving, I understand you need to
I just need this last goodbye from you
This last memory of you I'll hold forever
I'll be a distant memory you never revisit
So I wish you the best in all you endeavor
My eyes would etch you forever into memory
Before you say nothing and quietly walk away
You head off in search of what lies ahead
as I do my best to live in our yesterday
No hug to say goodbye or a single word
Just a thick and heavy silence fills the air
I watch you walk away, praying you'll turn around
You don't even look back because you no longer care
As you depart and chase your happiness
My love I truly hope your future is bright
If I never love again I'll accept it gladly
I'll have you my last love every sleepless night.
I brush my pen to hone,
Knowing the time I spent for you would never be alone.
For him I cherish, not the bond we embellish,
Where my sin once found it sweet,
Let my poem heal for you to repeat.
Suffering the wrath of my walls,
Shielding me in your arms,
Holding me tight as you poured out your soul,
Shrinking the sand that slips through your palms.
Avoiding the love that you once found,
Thankful for this day as time goes by,
Waving to the love I lost, we say our goodbyes.
Nothing left to change, no excuses to turn the page.
So this is how it ends
Not with darkness
With exhaustion
For billions of years
I mistook burning for living
I gave away pieces of myself
So gradually it looked like light
They looked up at me and called it beautiful
No one called it loss
Planets build their lives around my certainty
Measure time by my arrival
Never noticing that every sunrise costs me
And yet
If I were to begin again, I would still choose to shine
What is a star if not a thing that spends itself so something else can grow
The darkness waits at the edge of me now
Patient
Ancient
Hungry
But I am not afraid
I have lived a thousand lives inside the eyes that looked up
And when I finally go
The light will keep travelling long after I’m gone
A final reminder that endings are rarely where things end
If You were to be my final ballad,
bold and blazing,
bleeding ink burning eternally
would the book of my life
be closed on a death bed of bliss,
sealed with a locket of Your lovely longing,
perhaps left open upon my chest
to where You and I confessed
that our love is a natural obsession,
that torturous distance
made our passion more deft,
that Time was not an enemy,
It has been an ally
towards the evolution of our devotion,
the last heartbeat of a Poet Man
haloed by phoenix quills of love,
If You were my final kiss,
tight and liquid hot,
let's have our lips hold on long
to a breath immortal
unfading as faith fearless,
reverberating into the Valhalla
of Love ever living,
If You were to induce my final tear,
searing and falling
into the open mouth of my truth
It will be voicing an ultraviolet
cymatic oval
pitching into a promise
that is already realized,
If You were to be my final fear,
let It be that I am scared
of not being scared
of lovin' You all the way...
J.A.B.
Eyes opening;
Gaze slowly focusing;
White sheet covering;
A cold body quivering.
Icy shallow inhales;
Straps binding loosely;
Unable to move or speak;
Yearn for eternal rest.
Forcing another breath;
Strength so very weak;
Free of all addictions;
Search for a final veil.
Pitted face; rotted flesh;
As I slip into the void,
Of this endless black.
Forgotten in the morgue,
just needle me to death.
Just nudging seventy eight
This so called "old" age it must wait
Not ready to be known yet as late
Have much control over my eventual fate
Much time left to spend with my lover who is also my best mate
Many many interests that daily satiate
Mindset frequency attuned to a positive state
Some day with God we'll arrange a meeting on a mutual date
The grandfather clock
struck nine as the silver
platters were finally
uncovered.
Instead of the roasted duck,
a severed hand rested on the
bed of rosemary.
Before anyone could
scream, the mansion's
heavy oak doors automatically
locked.
The lights flickered out,
plunging the grand dining
room into pitch blackness.
A wet, heavy thud echoed
as the host collapsed onto
the mahogany table.
When the candles were relit,
a towering figure stood
holding a carving knife.
A porcelain mask reflected
the frantic, tearful faces of
the remaining guests.
One by one, the crimson
wine on the tablecloth was
replaced by a darker red.
Breath was held beneath the
long drapes as heavy boots
approached slowly.
The figure stepped over the
furniture, whispering that
dessert was about to be served.
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