Last Out Poems - Poems about Last Out

LAST WHISPERS

LAST WHISPERS
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In the fading light of a Texas sunset,
the Texas windmill stands,
a sentry of rust and memory,
its blades stretching wide,
catching the last whispers of the day.

The Last Lantern

lantern quivers dusk,
shadows twist like whispered secrets--
fireflies thread the sky.
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The last lamplighters

We climb the veils of woven mist,
Where time dissolves and stars persist,
Our hands coax flames from shadowed thread,
And light the paths the lost have tread.

We herd the fog on silver brooms,
Awake the night with whispered tunes,
We teach the snow to hum its prayer,
And fold the wind through tangled air.

We sail in cups that catch the

The Last Five Senses '2

By~Krish

The wind arrived without warning
its cold fingers lifted him
like paper from my hands.
He dissolved,
like ink in water.
The tulips crumbled into ash
that danced away
before it could touch the ground.

The earth tilted beneath me
and I fell.



When my eyes opened,
I was somewhere else.
The sun was too bright,
its heat warped by a crowd
gathered in a trembling circle.

At their center,
a

The Last Five Senses '1

By~Krish

I opened my eyes 
and the air was a still lake
that would no longer ripple for me.
My breath was a whisper,
a moth beating tired wings
against the glass of existence.

They stood beside me,
their tears pooling like rain
in the fragile valleys beneath their eyes,
and I knew,
by the tremor in their silence,
that I was already leaning
across the border

THE LAST IN LINE

THE LAST IN LINE*
~~~~~~~~~~~
This poem was inspired by my favorite Ronnie James Dio song/lyrics, “The Last in Line.”

In the fading light of day,
will I find the shadows of my soul
dancing in the twilight,
or will the light reveal my truths,
as I sift through the ashes of my choices?

I pause, pondering 
‘am I the architect of my

Best Comments Of The Last Two months In My View

best comments written by Maria Williams, Richard Seal, Rowena.

If Today was your Last

If today was your last would you change it up at all?
If you knew you had less than an hour before death,
would you do anything differently?
the undead rarely think about this.
lack of experience has not helped us much.
If you had twelve minutes left, would you still be at work?
What would you do?
Do that!

Last tear

Last tear ?? 

In pain I write
While hope slip out my hand
God one word one breath you could have land
Silence darkness candle out flames cold
You choose
Who new it would be you
The one I trust to see me through
But I guess it's true
You gave up on me, did You?
Why I'm I asking when I know
You power

The Last Night in July I think

The Last Night in July

(I think)
by Evelyn Aimarie

It is the last night in July
(I think)
And this pink Moscato tastes like you.

Memories dance to the sound of crickets chirping,
Their legs rubbing bottle brush bristles
against my brain,
Scratching an itch I didn’t know I had.

I think I will call it—
Childhood,
Memory?

Lightning bugs rave in succession,
Primordial neighbor to the procession.

Release.

The

Dirge of the Last Lap

I

The loud, cruel laughter of dirge
besieges us so greatly in the face of
wanton humiliation.
It comes mightily, crashing our aged
city walls, unearthing the foundations of
churches,
tolling bells in pulsated grief . . .

Dirge comes with thunder,
like the trumpets and horns of
treachery common with lachrymose compositions;
when rain suddenly comes,
we fret visibly.

The events of dirge are colourless,
edgy and heartless

When did you last have a mammogram

my nurse practitioner gives me a stern “mom” look.
When was the last time you had a mammogram?
I think I had one last week, I say breezily.

Really? She looks surprised.
What kind of a doctor is she?
She can’t tell that I am kidding?

The Second To The Last Straw

The Second To The Last Straw

Just Forgiving One More Time,
This Isn’t A Super-Wide Camel's
Back With A Minor Tolerance In Mind.

The Conditions For Unconditional
Can Quickly Toughen Love To Scars.

There Maybe Something Out Of
Place I Can Rearrange… 

Ummm,
Depending 
How 
You Really 
Are.

Nope.
Whatever.
Closed.

Sorry.

-Gray Squirrel

07-27-2025

HIS LAST WORDS

The world, my son
is one big market
people buying, people selling
some winning, some just walking through.

I was once a loud voice in it
Trading dreams, chasing deals
but today, I feel quiet
like the shop is closing.

Lying here, I hear something
a whisper, maybe a name
and I think it’s time
to pack my things.

Son, listen to me
life is trade and timing.
When

Last Flicker of the Pearl - Hiku 28 -

Written: July 25, 2025, for contest by Brian Strand

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