Written: September 17, for a contest sponsored by: John Lawless
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I flipped the book with a steady hand,
chapters etched as runes into the sand.
The tale was tangled, the lead crowned,
beyond, silence fell, no closing to be found.
The final leaf had vanished, sly and fleet,
perhaps devoured by some voracious beet.
Or maybe scribes, with quizzacious delight,
slipped it away to prank the sleepless night.
I searched the margins, parsed each crabbed line,
for clues the author left in sly design.
A smudge, a doodle, statice pressed in place—
but no denouement, no triumphant grace.
So now I tell the tale with aplomb:
the villain married, bought a stately home.
The hero tripped, repined, then took a nap—
the dragon joined a choir, and learned to rap.
And if you ask what moral can be spun,
I’ll say: beware a most distant sun.
For endings hide, as frenemy or ghost—
the last page missing always laughs the most.
The grass is so green,
so very very green,
the trees with the shadows
are glowing.
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
those mountains so high,
so very very high,
the glaciers as they flow
are singing.
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
the Sun and the moon,
night morning and noon,
with the beautiful stars
are shining
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
memories and thoughts,
of love and sweethearts,
the many in my life,
I would be missing,
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
the rights and wrongs,
learnt through prayers and songs,
that many after me
will still be learning,
……
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
Let me lie down for a while
To watch the clouds formless wags
Their silver linings in the sky
Can’t be corroded by the rains
Intangible, ephemeral
That silver shines too bright
To last for longer, on the roll
Of the wild winds I might
Feel for a minute, maybe two
Or three, if I continue
To watch the sky in search of you
Although I live within you.
"As the leaf of life sleeps upon my lips,"
I will see the "foliage of farewell."
"When the soul-stars dream and die,"
I see red leaves covering the fall trees.
"O fall, let this lore of love be the last,"
for I now see "I am the Eyes of Time."
The green leaves must change colors for the fall,
but "neither dusk nor dawn can delude me."
The Last Poets
“When the revolution comes,”
Politicians whispered sweet lies,
promising dreams that were never theirs,
while streets echoed with dreams denied,
and voices drowned in blood-stained hope.
Economies built on the backs of the weak,
wealth for the few, while many stayed silent,
coins of gold pooled, but hearts went cold,
hands reached out but never united.
The Last Poets rhymes like Hymns
echoing in alleys,
fingers snap,
feet tap,
words meet the pulse,
the Congo thump lifts hearts,
raw and real,
hip-hop’s roots grow deep—
But what has changed,
in this swirling maze?
Do we still speak the truth,
shout over sirens,
dream beyond the neon flash,
with wide eyes,
still fighting, still asking,
for justice in our sound,
each voice a note,
every story a song?
I was in the mood
for a real page-turner.
My bibliophile friend
handed me a book of white-knuckle suspense.
"Read this! It's quite a doozy!," she promised.
And she wasn't lying....
I blew off many a phone call,
filed away my to-do lists,
prioritized book above all hobbies,
yadda yadda.....
I was surprised how fast I got to
the final chapter.
Alas, I didn't get to close the book.
Not yet anyway...
A surprise I never anticipated, you see.
Ugh, never have I
groaned so loudly in my life!
Jane knew I'd come to her
confused, demanding an explanation....
"Hey, is this your idea of a practical joke?", I asked.
She guffawed her "Yes,"
handing me
the last page she tore out.
Silly gal, best believe I'll get her back.....
The feeling of impulsive sensitivity,
the beginning,
the search for the meaning
of despondent emotion,
the end.
That was my realization
when I was at the threshold
of the fading twilight zone
and my marooned mind sank in despair,
contained.
When the day’s last wind began to blow,
I saw my shadow lengthen
in the corridor of the past.
I tried to saunter on the fervent footprints
buried desolate under the delusive dust,
while the last mile waited to be walked.
My life’s story written in a tome
of unending miserable episodes
described in distressing chapters
that continued to drag on.
I decided to not turn the pages any more,
wished the last poignant page was missing,
perhaps never written,
or replaced by a new page
unfolding the chronicle of dreams.
Started reading an interesting book on ‘ Life’
Very vivid introspection dealing with all aspects,
as Challenges , Struggles , Happiness, Sorrows.
Success to access, Failure to endure,
Enthusiasm and despondency …
excavating mind - brain - soul.
At the end reached last chapter titled ‘ After Life ‘
That’s all writing ‘To be continued. …..
But Nothing Else.
Eternal Question was unsolved,…..
I am reading about a poor chap,
by a killer led into a trap.
I’ve been biting my nails
at the ending’s details,
but the last page is missing. Oh, crap!
All was well with us till we went to church,
where we were told that we had sinned,
that we must atone so as to be saved,
a verdict that left us chagrined.
Temples and mosques too offered no solace,
each but a control mechanism,
within which parables are constructed,
designed to trap us in that ism.
Somewhere in all scriptures the plot is lost,
being God realisation,
instead of which we are to join a cult,
demanding our soul’s prostration.
Noticing all paths lead to a dead end,
we chose to befriend the vast void,
dissolving our mind in time stretched silence,
reclaiming heart’s light unalloyed.
The truth is within, not somewhere out there,
immediate and intimate,
to which end, simply melding head with heart,
we birth bliss that does not abate.
What religions conceal, we now reveal,
as our origins we retrace,
when heart is pure and eye becomes single,
we see God clearly face to face.
Robin Hood's Last Shot
Ill-
fated
Robin Hood,
upon death’s bed,
shoots his last arrow
through an open window,
which, when it touches the ground,
will mark the spot to dig his grave
and where he will rest in peace under
a greenwood tree planted beside the site.
Everyone is fond of the summer season
some just can't get enough of that sun
they travel worldwide to gain its rays
but the other seasons are required as one
Now here's a thought to ponder upon
what if summer lasted all year long
just imagine having continuous sunshine
our hearts would be filled with joyful songs
Children would want extra long holidays
even they could have classes held outside
more fun to learn about nature
sometimes summer rain keeps us inside
Now what if summer ended for good
and worst of all, winter lasted the year
nothing but cold, snow and ice
perish the thought, for it fills with fear
The heavy coats and gloves are on
never to take off at any time
well, maybe we'll stick to the four seasons
so ideal really, to keep us in our prime
Life is like a book,
Each page is a memory.
Just take a look
At what happens every day.
Until you reach the last,
Are you done reading history?
And now you know the cast,
You realize the book is not finished completely.
The last page was missing,
Wherever you search, you’ll never find it.
Reading from the beginning, but there is no ending?
No one knows; only God decides it.
The last page is human life,
It is the missing piece.
You will not know while you’re still alive,
Not until you die—rest in peace.
He gathered his trash to put in the bin
His crimson math book the last to turn in
Peace will no longer rule
It's the last day of school
Now his summer adventure can begin
I love old book stores.
The smell and look of old books,
sets my heart a pumping.
At home I have my favorite stops,
checking out each shelf carefully.
When I travel,
I look up stores before I leave home.
My list can be short or long,
with a book or two or three following me home.
This summer I found an old book,
a book jumped into my shopping cart saying,
please take me home.
I have been reading on and off for weeks,
last night I got to the end.
I could not wait to see what was going to happen,
The Last Page Was missing.
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