Long Final curtain Poems
Long Final curtain Poems. Below are the most popular long Final curtain by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Final curtain poems by poem length and keyword.
Dedicated in memory of Mr Dangerfield, Rodney.
He was a comic few will ever forget.
He is most known probably for his classic routine;
"I Don't Get No Respect.
When I was born the doctor delivered to my parents the very sad news.
"We tried everything, but I'm sorry, he managed to pull through."
I Don't Get No Respect.
I remember taking my first steps so vividly
and then dear old Dad tripping me.
I Don't Get No Respect.
I asked Dad if I could go ice skating on the lake with all of the others.
He then said to me, "Wait until it gets warmer."
I Don't Get No Respect.
My mother practiced this form of birth control constantly.
Whenever Dad wanted sex, she'd show him a picture of me.
I Don't Get No Respect.
"I lost my parents. Do you think we'll ever find them?" I cried.
"I don't know," said the policeman, "There's so many places they can hide."
I Don't Get No Respect.
In the kidnapper's note to my parents for ransom
it read, "Give us five thousand dollars or you'll see your kid again."
I Don't Get No Respect.
Last night, my wife wearing a sexy negligee met me at our front door all alone.
There's just one problem with this scenario. She was coming home.
I Don't Get No Respect.
My wife phoned and said, "Come on over. There's nobody home."
When I arrived, guess what? There was nobody home.
I Don't Get No Respect.
During sex my wife always wants to talk to me.
She called me from a hotel recently.
I Don't Get No Respect.
One day I came home from work early
and saw a man run naked jogging past me.
I asked, "Why are you jogging naked buddy?"
He replied, "Because you came home early."
I Don't Get No Respect.
"What'll ya have?" the bartender asked me.
Indecisive I replied, "Just surprise me."
So he pulled out a naked photo of my wife for me to see.
I Don't Get No Respect.
I went to a hooker, thinking it might be nice.
When I dropped my pants, she dropped her price.
I Don't Get No Respect.
My psychiatrist said that I'm going crazy.
"I'd like a second opinion," I replied to she.
"Very well," she said, "You're also ugly."
I Don't Get No Respect
I told my psychiatrist, "I'm going to kill myself when I get the chance."
She told me I'll have to start paying her well in advance.
I Don't Get No Respect.
No Respect At All.
I've had enough of all of this.
This is my final curtain call."
Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander, head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath
my worn out sneakers,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints of blistered dust
“My sanity for some cool water”
When upon my shoulders, reddened by solar intensity,
wet from exerted energy, comes a breeze
as if Autumn has come to claim her colors,
to gather her brown and sepia landscape,
pull the lifeless trees, with little leaf
from the chalk textured ground taking it
where it would suit another, for this is my luck
"Take my shade I beg not, for it is merely a branch”
Like fingers of a silken web’s reach,
a soft caress of skin is not understood, though very pleasant
Nature finds me a shiver, a small comfort in this arid place
once crawling with snakes of assorted length, now
green as if lush has just been defined
with sweet air and pomegranate skies featuring a glow,
pristine shades of which I’ve never seen, heavenly
“To whom might I thank for such a gift?”
When before me stands, my eyes saturated and lost
slowly focus on beauty, winged loveliness now smiling within my own
personal oasis, which quickly forms in my heart
An angel, a goddess, extends a hand to me?
My cracked and weathered palm touches, smooth, gentle
her hand as she lifts me, I am weightless, floating
to her, my breath leaves me as I wonder, is this my end?
“If this beauty shall be my final curtain, let it be dropped slowly”
A voice of velvet speaks, as I fade in and out of reality,
now steadied by her touch and the sweet scent of lavender and lime
“I have come to you as a verse, for poetry is thy keeper,
thy words have been heard,” lyrical this voice sings
melodic and harmonious, a rhythm to the beat of my heart,
the race of my pulse, the love of my life, my muse, my all
“Eternal to you I shall write, for your beauty fuels my pen”
*I feel this poem speaks of poetry, the reason we are all here. To find and share our muse, to be inspired and grow together in poetry. It also was a step out of my comfort zone for me as this was an early write of mine where I tried a few new ideas.
My final curtain call has come,
The stage beckons one last bow.
I’ll die in that electric chair,
Twenty four hours from now.
So many thoughts pour through my mind,
Of Hell and eternity.
Can one so lost as I be saved
And avoid that destiny?
I can’t forget my mother’s face,
The day I was arrested
For killing that abusive cop,
an act the law detested.
The cop and I had history,
Dating back to my teen years.
And my mother never noticed,
The nights I came home in tears.
Abuse began when I was twelve,
with a shoplifting arrest.
The cop would make a choice that day,
what it was, few could have guessed.
I was cuffed and placed in his car,
Then driven out to the cape.
The next day, I reported him,
and accused the cop of rape.
But they just laughed and sent me home,
I had nowhere left to turn.
That utter sense of helplessness
Was a hard lesson to learn.
He’d pick me up from time to time,
Bogus charges were the theme,
Then drive me back out to the cape,
Where no one could hear me scream!
Obsession fill the next ten years,
The injustice would not cease.
How can a man protect himself
When abused by the police?
One night he took me to the cape,
Thinking I was easy prey.
That was the last thing he would do
Before his life slipped away.
He didn’t know I’d gotten free,
And he never saw the knife.
When he pulled me out of the car,
That was when I took his life.
I stabbed and stabbed and stabbed again,
As he bled out, in the mud.
I was captured an hour later,
Still soaked in my victim’s blood.
They said I stabbed him sixty times;
I lost track after he fell.
I hope I’ll get to stab him more
If we both end up in hell.
I await my execution,
As I try hard to forget,
How I enjoyed killing that cop,
Something I still don’t regret.
For what I put my mother through,
My heart is filled with sorrow.
And yet, her darkest day will come
At setting sun tomorrow.
For that is when I’ll know at last,
What the Lord intends for me.
It won’t be long until I learn
Where I’ll spend eternity.
Is my immortal soul the kind
That God’s Kingdom would allow?
I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough,
Twenty four hours from now.
My epitaph writ large...
courtesy third person singular.
Mise en scène pour décès
pardon his feeble attempt at French,
a unilingual English language
quibbling, and scribbling mensch
strongly advises applying
left handed monkey wrench,
which custom designed tool
assigned impossible mission
to discern sense and sensibility
regarding following poetic thread
subject of a fool's errand.
Mein kampf witnessed, punctuated,
and evinced courtesy final breath
automatically triggering (tumblr
to activate) final curtain call
and unremarkable death.
As stipulated in the living will
cremation of his lifeless body
cremated into soft gray powder.
A prerecorded hashtagged obituary
downloaded to individual smartphones
and simultaneously appeared on
the following poetry websites:
COSMOFUNNEL, Hello Poetry,
Neopoet, My Poetic Side, Poetry Soup,
PoetryNook, PoetryVibe, Prose|
A community of readers and writers,
and All Poetry.
He hesitated and lost out
on game of life big time
even fumbling crafting reasonable rhyme
noshing, spending, and whiling
inordinate amount of hours
squirreled away in his bedroom
surrounding himself with reading material.
He amassed fountainhead of knowledge
quietly engorging cerebral gray matter
whereat noggin swelled up
rivaling globe, but Atlas shrugged
at him, whose head
resembled the first Chinese brother
who swallowed the sea.
Odd his voracious appetite
to buzzfeed with one
after another binary byte
zealous precocity to engross himself
with storied reading material
that does extremely excite
(at the expense of healthy socialization)
where his imagination took flight,
nevertheless myopic eyes of his
did glean insight
keeping his cute button nose
between pages of choice morsels
to appease hunger
keeping himself awake
drinking high test coffee
during darkness aided by jacklight
processing meaty material with might
experiencing abundant, exultant,
intoxicant, over-extravagant
joie de vivre day or night,
a balm, elixir, inebriate... quite
the panacea to abet emotional incapacitation
which entails crafting poems
oftimes spending efforts
with efforts undertaking rewrite
unwittingly garnering a fanbase
courtesy ideology doth unite.
What if I could tell you all the pain you put me through?
Would you tell me what I wanted to hear, for me, could you be true?
What if you hadn’t cheated, would we be together now?
In love and truly happy, never would we row.
What if you hadn’t lied, would we be living together?
In a house filled with happiness, dreaming of our forever.
What if you hadn’t let me down, would I ever feel such sadness?
Would I have been so consumed with grief, despair and almost madness?
What if you hadn’t walked away while my heart was silently breaking,
Alone, my body filled with dread, my empty hands just shaking?
What if you hadn’t said those words that destroyed our love and more?
Would I still be crying now, would my emotions feel so raw?
What if you could turn back time, would you still do things the same?
If you knew then what you know now, would you hurt me all over again?
What if you could tell me you were sorry, you were such a fool?
That you wish things could be different if you hadn’t been so cruel?
Could we put it all behind us and start again tomorrow?
Could we turn our backs forever on shame, regret and sorrow?
Would I be able to trust you every time you were out of sight?
Or would doubt and suspicion call to me in the dead of the night?
Would history repeat itself? Of me, would you ever tire?
Would you show your colours once again- cheat, heartbreaker, liar?
I’ll never find these answers, but one thing I know for sure-
For you, there is no second chance; to you I’ve closed the door.
For though I may still love you and wish for a happy ending,
I couldn’t survive another fall, from you I am still mending.
Our time together has come and gone, I know this fact for certain,
For us there will be no repeat performance, this is our final curtain.
So I’m moving on from 4 years of pain to better times ahead.
I’m shaking off the ghosts of the past, the person I was is now dead.
Maybe one day I will show you these words so you can understand
Why our love is gone forever to a far and distant land.
Please never think that I do not care or my heart is filled with hate,
What’s done is done, it cannot be changed, it was meant to be; it was fate.
Form:
T0 Spencer Snyder, age 80
Curtain Call
He signed you for a starring role, with no time to rehearse,
None had played the part before, so no-one better or worse,
Been a long run and the folks keep coming, your lines change like your sox,
Director nods up in the Gods, no prompter in the box,
And every time you looked to Him, He’d smile and say Well Done,
Despite your wild unscripted words, you could do no wrong
Though critics voiced opinions, you know what worth they are,
Mostly orificial, mostly rated R!
Curtain Call! You’re on again today
You can prance and sing and pirouette or sulk the night away
Curtain Call! Delight with what you’ve got,
When you act on inspiration, you can’t be what you’re not.
Well, all runs have their ups and downs, you faltered there sometimes
And scowled at other actors for their excrementary lines,
Complaints they won you nothing but laughter from the crew
But now you know they’re there to show the very best in you!
One day you’ll hear a casting-call, Director’s words are spare:
“The part you played was perfect, I’ve another one to share,
But because you did amuse me with your foibles, funks and fears,
I’ll let you practice this one for another 20 years!”
Curtain Call! You get…. no stand-in for your role
You signed for the duration when you were just a soul
Curtain Call! When you grasp a life, there’s no-one here to blame,
And how much you enlighten us your only claim to fame!
You pondered long life’s meaning, but the guru’s words rang true,
That it don’t mean a goldarn thing but what it means to you,
It’s meant to be a mystery, of that you can be sure,
And for your play, if we had our way, we’d implore Encore!
And at your final curtain, kindly exit with a smile,
To let us know you loved the part for just a little while,
We’ll stand for your ovation if we’re not all in the ground,
It’s a goodly bet that’s all you get for having us around!
Curtain Call! (It sounds) every morning when you rise,
The stage has made you large as life, regardless of your size,
Curtain Call! We love you, please curtsey to acclaim,
An arch-angelic Oscar has been chiseled with your name!
Naivete' gets in the way of what can go wrong.
Youth have a way of dancing to every love song.
In early years I had no fears, daughter then a wife
but rarely does everything go as we planned in life.
'Life's a Dance' and experiences teach us as we go
from trusting souls to questioning adults as we grow.
Sometimes we follow and there are times when we lead.
Sometimes love ends in heartache. That's when we bleed.
In those early years there wasn't much that I feared
and dread was never a word that I revered.
When my singing stopped and music ended in sorrow
I didn't give up on hope, for there's always tomorrow.
******************
So, I continued to 'Dream On' with hopes I still had,
trying to remember the good times and forget the bad.
I had to put the past behind because it was gone.
How quickly it went by like time between dusk and dawn.
Isn't that the way life collects the dues its owed.
When kissed, each Prince Charming turned out to be a toad.
I grew weary pretending to be someone I was not.
So, I left and didn't look back like the wife of Lot.
I wrote of my life's adventures on many parchment pages~
my legacy or a comedy of errors acted upon life's stages.
Not yet, has the final curtain been drawn on my career
for in these autumnal years another song plays in my ear.
********************
I got tired of waiting for life to be the happy place
where I once smiled, before frowns covered my face
so, at last I found the courage to set myself free
and started singing about the things I liked about me.
I stopped wailing the blues in these glorious days
and making up all kinds of alibis and trivial ways
to worry about things, so I'm living in the present.
My attitude is carefree, and each day is pleasant.
'Living in the Moment' leaves no room for expectations.
I enjoy relationships and sometimes give in to temptations.
The life I thought would be mine, at last I am living
and I discovered there really is much more joy in giving.
If you had a 3 song Playlist about your life, what would they be and why?
1. 'Life's a Dance' by John Michael Montgomery.
2. 'Dream On' by Aerosmith.
3.'Living in the Moment' by Jason Mraz
When the final curtain softly descends, and the echoes of my days retreat,
I want to whisper to the wind that all my life, I was a bride betrothed to amazement,
In the silent embrace of dawn's first light and the whispered secrets of twilight.
I was the bridegroom, holding the world in my eager arms, feeling its heartbeat in my own.
Each breath, a vow to wonder, each heartbeat a promise to the extraordinary,
For in the tapestry of existence, I wove dreams with threads of stardust and sighs.
As the sun rose and set, its golden rays caressed the earth, so did my love for the marvels of this world unfold,
With eyes wide open in the innocence of eternal curiosity, heart open to the embrace of mystery.
When the journey reaches its final bend, I don’t want to wonder if my life bore significance,
But to know, in the marrow of my being, that I was in constant communion with the sublime.
I walked through gardens of amazement, each flower a testament to the fire within,
For I did not merely traverse; I danced, I sang, I wept, I rejoiced with every fiber of my soul.
I do not want to end this symphony of existence with a sigh of regret or a tremor of fear,
Nor do I want to be caught in the web of endless arguments, a mind at war with itself.
Instead, let my spirit rise with the dawn, unburdened and weightless, free as the first breath of spring,
Having lived not as a mere visitor to this world, but as an integral note in its eternal song.
When it’s over, let me be a testament to the beauty of living fully, of loving passionately,
For I was the bride to amazement, wed to the miracles both mundane and profound.
I was the bridegroom, embracing the world with unwavering devotion,
Let my legacy be one of soulful engagement, where every moment was kissed by the lips of wonder.
In the twilight of reflection, amidst the gathering shadows of memory,
Let me know that I did not squander the gift of existence, nor did I shy away from its relentless grace.
Let the stars write my story on the celestial dome, a tale of passion and serene acceptance,
For I was here, not as a passerby, but as one who lived, truly lived, in the arms of amazement.
Listen! Here come the horses,
War machines, a myriad of forces!
'Whitewash', the white horse, is first,
Those deceptive words rehearsed.
Peace as a pretense to conquer,
Glossy until he grows stronger.
'Butcher', the red horse, unleashed,
Civil unrest and sword unsheathed.
Laying claim to the Earth,
Mixing lifeblood with turf.
Black are the ravages of war,
Famine only adds to the score.
The black horse arrives,
His name is... 'Survive'.
But 'Ash' has entered the scene,
The color of corpse, pale-green,
Their progression succinct,
Succumbing to animal instinct.
Fools have staked their claim,
And adorned themselves with shame,
"The Earth belongs to the ‘Best’!"
When the ‘Best’ are merely Guests!
Corrupted to have their own way,
Inferiors they oppress and dismay.
Devouring each other like prey,
Their body and soul He will slay.
Whirling Wheels in the great expanse!
The Davidic King will soon advance!
His Wheelwork is not uncertain,
Make ready for His final curtain!
Listen! Martyrs beseeching their Master,
"When will you avenge this disaster!"
"All must repent or perish,
There's more to be saved, to cherish.
When Messiah returns to avenge,
The Superiors on Earth will cringe,
And hide themselves from My face,
But I will expose their disgrace.
The Day of Our wrath will come,
My adversaries will all be undone!"
Whirling Wheels in the great expanse!
The Davidic King will soon advance!
His Wheelwork is not uncertain,
Make ready for His final curtain!
Listen! A Watchman’s urgent call,
"The Davidic Dynasty is All!"
"Do not cover their true condition,
To convey, not create, is the mission.
'Who influences who?', is the test,
Repentance and restoration are ‘Best’!
Judging His choices and actions,
Creates obstacles, infractions,
To live the way He intended,
And to have His blessing suspended.
Scripture is the sign to heed.
Our Substitute He decreed.
Grace through faith the plan.
He resurrected the God-Man.
Whirling Wheels in the great expanse!
The Davidic King will soon advance!
His Wheelwork is not uncertain,
Make ready for His final curtain!
first may this day find you all well and safe
I am sorry that I have not responded to reviews
I know I am late once again
for those who know me I don't forget
and I will try to turn to your pages with honor
with this being said because I am heartbroken over Darren White
I felt compelled and needed to first write a tribute
the entry below is a dedication to
Darren White
years back Darren wrote a series
“the lost childhood”
speaking of the little one
I was so moved beyond words
I asked for his permission and blessing
to write an entry dedicated to “the little one”
Darren immediately said yes so I posted a dedication
fast forward to today after learning of his passing
I like everyone else is heartbroken
it is my hope he is finally at peace mind body spirit
at peace and whole
Penguin I have no words
I will forever cherish
our communications mutual understandings and more
allow this entry to give flight and life to “the little one”
all the credit belongs to Darren himself
and his extraordinary series
thank you all
“always to be whole”
once in life the sky falls
leading into a journey of unknown
unknown unwanted unaccepting
except there is no option to resist
how does one begin to comprehend
when comprehension is out of grasp
even through powers of the far and wide
for whispers of tides never reach me
they tell me hold on little one
for this you are not defined
days months years roll by
nightly wishing among the stars
they too tell me hold on little one
one day all will be revealed
I always answer back it couldn’t possibly
the why the why the why
gliding through air has ended
all I can do is recall the feeling
recall the sensation
recall the freedom
now the time for the final curtain
once more I hear such whispers
hold on little one
for this you are not defined
all will be revealed
you will once again glide through air
you will feel the sensation with vividness
you will experience peace and freedom
freedom that you little one so deserve
then now always
then as the sky fell
now as you transition
always to be whole
SkyWatcher
06-14-24