Long Conclusion Poems
Long Conclusion Poems. Below are the most popular long Conclusion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conclusion poems by poem length and keyword.
Written February 28, 2025, For contest Sponsored by: Sara Jama
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On a planet
where kindness truly counts,
people's eyes widened as
the last petal fell.
Tears slid silently through empty rooms,
I gasped for air,
staring blankly into
chasm of despair.
It's a worldwide struggle aimed
at protecting our
extraordinary ecosystems.
Both motivation and meanness
chip away at the heart
of our real worth.
leading us to falter
as we strive to create
a pathway to a lasting future.
Beasts and beings alike,
both broken and bound,
navigate this challenging
reality together.
The final flicker of
life appears before us,
we face a dreadful plunge
into darkness that
we are forced to endure
in s o l i t u d e.
We offer guidance that
no one will ever abandon.
Ancient guardians of
the land and the people
who inhabit it stand
watch over us.
Sadly, the harsh reality of
existence is beginning to settle in.
We have measured our value
against wantonness winding
our journey toward its conclusion.
The softly fading rustle
of the foliage has also faded.
There's a wonderful warmth and
a welcoming embrace felt
among all living beings.
In the darkness with my
eyelids tightly shut,
a gentle breeze of
goodwill sweeps it all away.
As delicate petals f a l l. . .
a tear rolls down.
This symbolizes the lives
of those irrevocably amended.
Disappointment is woven into society,
and standards are shattered.
Unspoken words linger,
in the corners of memory.
Shadows quietly drift
through broken spaces—
where death meets its apex,
in stillness and serenity.
The fragmented hush of
the sunset s i l e n c e,
where once screams echoed.
She sits by the stream of consciousness with the echo of silence
Takes her mind into blistering darkness below false reason’s truth
Down by the water of tears she lights a candle in her mind’s storms
Embraces the sadness of sorrows and rewires misleading thoughts
They called her a witch with no conscience a gipsy lost on the road
Burnt her broomstick branded her skin and confiscated her wagon
Shackled her whistles and bells to hot metal rods and straightjackets
Turned down the heat in the foregone conclusion that she was gone
Yet when the ashes rose she floated on wings of kind forgiveness
Remembered her many friends in Auschwitz in the chambers of hell
She had come prepared in a purple jumpsuit made from asbestos
Forged by history and knowledge that she was stronger than hatred
She assembled a step ladder one rung at a time and slowly ascended
To a waxing moon sickled with hope and compassion into laughter
‘These imbeciles did not take my passion for starlight and wisdom’
‘My tea leaves are stronger and smell of freedom scented in love’
She brought a basket of sandalwood and sweet lavender dreams
And retrieved a besom bequeathed to her by ancestry’s lineage
Looked up to the sky and breathed a prophecy painted from clouds
Sealed her escape with seven locks of her hair and brushed off the dust
15th November 2019
Parody of "Casey At The Bat" with apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer
The outlook was quite brilliant for the high school stud that year—
the senior prom was coming up, and Casey had no fear.
The babe he hoped to take he knew would happily comply,
for Casey was quite popular, the envy of each guy.
And she, of course, was stunning, in a Barbie sort of way,
and any fellow would be proud to date her any day!
There was ease in Casey's manner, a real confidence infusion—
that she would smile and tell him 'yes' was a foregone conclusion.
For Casey was the captain of his high school football team
and she was head cheerleader, with a face that made boys dream.
Deciding he would ask her to the prom with a sweet note,
composed in a romantic style, which late one night he wrote.
Next day at lunch, the courtyard packed with hustling and bustle,
wearing the shirt that he picked out that best showed off his muscle—
approaching boldly, Casey handed her his heart-shaped note.
His dream girl read it, then looked up and softly cleared her throat.
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The high school pep band plays somewhere, and high school hearts are light;
And somewhere boys are laughing, and somewhere schoolgirls shout,
But there's no joy in his world—mighty Casey has struck out.
Written 25 Dec 2020
Oh my...
Soothing, our melody.
Cries of passion we erupt in song,
doing things we know are wrong.
you light my fire,
I am what you desire,
your sensual verses inspire,
only you and I in this choir.
Deep inside,
your mind and more
I want all that you can give.
Let me explore
deep into your core.
Oh my,
am I sore,
I can hardly walk to the door.
my legs are weak,
like I have just come to shore.
I adore
your sexuality,
the way that you implore,
when I am deep inside
your body and mind,
giving you what you want and more.
Do friends make better lovers?
I don't know if that is true,
All I know is that I am content,
deep inside of you....
The conclusion to this poem is written by our very own Linda Marie-Bariana.."Sweetheart"
Visit her page for the must read ending that will send shock waves through our community...
Jared Pickett
12/8/09
Asavvy1
Poetry Soup and America, 2019
A country rich in schools and diversity.
Many here have esteemed college degrees,
Yet, why do Americans communicate by smileys?
Worse, we cannot hold a conversation
Neither on the telephone, nor in person
"Gotta run, gotta go", "Text me later".
Why did I ever go to a university?
Why does anyone ever want to go?
You will end up like the rest, living
your entire day on texts!
Unable to write a complete sentence.
Even a 6th grader can do this!
The nation writes in practically Morse
Code,
Or at best, something eerily similar.
Even phone calls, once appreciated,
Get hit with the same darn plague.
"Gotta Go", is all the rage.
This poet feels is human outrage!
Thus, Poetry Soup, is a place,
Where one can be fully heard and
be responded to.
Not in a technological, cold way of
symbols,
But in a fully, intelligent, literal
level. I do mean sentences!
No baby words here, nobody would
listen.
Cute keyboard keys leave me cold.
Can't I use words instead of LOL?
Do I have to use -)) ?
Ugh! With great online sources for
words, I stand in shame for not so doing.
Where are we all rushing to?
What's our ultimate human destination?
Why do I sign PR, in such an absurd way?
Panagiota is a much more beautiful name.
In a world that adores instant delusion!
To be part of obnoxious technology and
revolution,
For me, can be a tragically sad,delusion.
However, to be part of The Poetry Soup, is a most blessed and joyous conclusion.
Panagiota Romios
4/29/2019
9:15am
Fourteen lines limit a poet. But
One line can say it all.
Two lines may seem like too few. While
Thirteen lines is playing it rather safe; wouldn't you think...
Twelve lines are commonplace, not to mention a fair share.
Four lines typically conform and tend to rhyme, here and there.
Five lines don't occur very often. But
Eleven lines; now that's unique.
Ten lines of long length, often comprise a short poetry prose.
Six lines may simply form two stanzas of three. Only
Seven lines end the poem by adding a one-liner conclusion.
Three lines without a place enjoy mixing things up a bit. Prompting
Eight lines to worry about it; it being not a thing at all. Getting a good laugh out of watching
Nine lines cling onto every word, knowing the end is near; but the poet continues to write to the limits of fourteen lines.
-END
11-7-16
Contest 235, 14 line max
Now I’ve made sense and untied the knots
the mist lifts I visualise what I could not
events long gone and by now by all forgot
scenes of confusion which seemed lost from plot
But now I understand and move forth accordingly
I don’t give a damn who hears my recordings see
I’d rather make a new plan than put old into order
For you to stand wasting time that I can’t afford to
Lose, when they get confused by my story it’s amusing
failure to make sense of scenes and who I am accusing
Back then just the same they said I fake that I’m moody
They Bond for reassurance have a laugh and call me Looney
Now I’ve learnt who my friends are and who turned from me
I’ve realised the way things went and who was burning me
and though this is a late response it all holds relevance
because however long ago it was evidence is evidence
Friends ain’t friends if they say you fake your problems
I see it all now and am offended cuz it’s not on
to claim I make it up when the period was so long
the group not hearing then now can’t see the bonds gone
The fact of the matter is you did what I wouldn’t do to you
you still don’t know stood looking confused
so now I have to come back and explain it to all of you
what’s the point mate, cheerio to all of you
This was written as another challenge by Silent One. This one was in the form of using 10 words of his choice.
Colored Skies
I woke to skies of a deep sapphire hue,
very confused not to see shades of a lighter blue.
Something was amiss, then it turned to emerald green.
These were the most unusual evanescent skies I've ever seen.
Something heavy dangled on my chest.
A talisman of sorts from 'round my neck it did rest.
No fear did I hold of it, nor a plethora of any great dread.
Suddenly, the sky broke open and gleamed in a shade of radiant red.
A dulcet melody began to ring quite clear.
It came from the talisman; a chrysalis shaped sphere.
The sky morphed again, into a sunny glowing shade of yellow,
Such an idyllic setting to share with my love, my morning bedfellow.
In the purest state of felicity, we shared a kiss.
In rhapsodic conclusion, we were lost in heavenly bliss.
Above us the sky had restored itself into a deep sapphire blue
while in my lover's eyes I drowned. The talisman freshened our love anew.
I could write a song about a sunset,
The awesome natural beauty of majestic rosy skies,
But sunsets aren't aware they've been admired
And if I sang those words I'd be receiving no replies.
I could write a song about betrayal,
An angry, bitter dirge about mistrust, abuse and lies,
But anger doesn't mend too many friendships
And so this broken heart must wear a happy man's disguise.
I could search the world for inspiration
And when it finally comes to me, it comes as no surprise.
I’ll settle on the obvious conclusion.
I’ll just write a song about your eyes.
Your eyes are Titian and Bellini, but mostly Raphael,
Or maybe Botticelli, sometimes it’s hard to tell.
Or is it Tintoretto, Donatello or Fouquet?
Your eyes are works of artistry regardless, anyway.
I could write a song about desire
And if I did, I’d fashion it of whispers, purrs and sighs,
A lyric that spoke softly of your beauty;
I just wrote a song about your eyes.
Shemp Howard has a special problem today.
He receives an inheritance from his Uncle Caleb who passed away.
One condition exists that does not seem too funny:
Shemp must prove he's married before he gets the money.
In the legal document, there is a strange codicil:
The stooge has to get married within 48 hours of the will.
He has proposed to women who all think he's a creep.
This seems like a mountain to climb that is too steep.
Shemp meets Miss Hopkins who mistakes him for Cousin Basil.
Miss Hopkins gives Shemp a beating that is just brutal.
Along comes Shemp's student who nobody thinks is choice.
Miss Dinkelmeyer is not good looking, and has a terrible voice.
If you wonder what the conclusion of this episode will be:
Get the video and have a look-see.
Based on the 1947 Columbia Pictures short subject "Brideless Groom" starring the Three Stooges.