Long Finality Poems
Long Finality Poems. Below are the most popular long Finality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Finality poems by poem length and keyword.
When hope no longer sustains us
and all that's left is debris
scattered across the landscape of our heart
When terrible winds of angry storms
cloak blue skies in a frightening rush of darkness
and nothing is left to the eyes but a scar of despair
etched in the stunned silence of our tired faces
as we search for yesterday's sun
among dawn's gleaming light
trapped between the cycle of black ominous clouds
from our emotional hurricane of constant howling screams
that broke the bonds of love away from its moors
and brought finality to fingers parting
while still clinging until the last through the storm
as it stoled our memories of when we were warm together
leaving us alone and exhausted
10/22/20 contest After the Hurricane
I brushed water colors with thoughts of Adam's Eve
and the fallen one who was disguised to deceive
this naked nymph, who strikes a nubile pose
offering a ripened apple and a crimson rose
Both face and body, painted innocently pure
her femininity was unquestionably demure
but with forbidden fruit bitten, it was all lost
From Eden's paradise she and Adam were tossed.
Uprooted as a tree, she forfeited divine favor
The evil reptile's lie succeeded to enslave her
Woe to the male offspring she was created to bear
One killed by the hand of the other, his plight forswear
To them, closed forever was the garden's gate
The finality of death then became mankind's fate
A wrong path was chosen when she'd been warned
gave way to mortality that all of us have mourned
I feel despondent.
Am I susceptible to morbid views?
I walk the hard sandy path
Where the sky drifts into the sea
As waves roll gently on my feet.
I am oblivious of the inconvenience of all.
The sun goes to rest.
I prefer the bright skies.
I care not of the mellow sinking sunset.
For there I’m leashed to your dusk.
We meet in high street.
An altercation takes place.
I am dragged to a courtroom,
Accused though really innocent.
The magistrate bangs the gavel.
The only witness is called.
In the mists of your eyes
I expect to see love. I see none.
I gave you my all, where is my adulation,
my relish, my zeal?
The magistrate looks annoyed.
This is a simple case.
Give each a kiss and be done with it.
We comply reluctantly. A long lingering kiss.
Meant mainly to appease the magistrate.
The court case is finalized. No real damage.
I take her out for a drink.
What am I to do with her?
I do not want her really!
Release me. I plead.
Burn me with your love poison.
I may find some peace.
It is not to be—the finality of love.
My life will be melancholy forevermore.
Placed 2
A Resource Based Economy,
eliminates the need for currency.
There isn't enough money in the world to provide housing for everybody,
let alone provide everyone with all their most basic of needs,
but we have more than enough resources to provide abundance for everybody.
We are sitting on technology like you wouldn't believe.
Technology that could provide everyone all of their needs.
Technology that could eliminate all jobs quite literally,
allowing everyone to peruse their true passions without restrictions freely,
with a higher and greater education available to everybody,
without a price tag, no tuition, absolutely free.
When science and technology,
are applied to the social system intelligently,
combined with a global Resource Based Economy,
we could all live a lifestyle like you wouldn't believe,
a virtual Garden of Eden figuratively.
This would be in no way an Utopian Society.
An Utopian Society suggests finality,
but rather an emergent, evolving society,
always going through change, improving constantly.
A Resource Based Economy,
defined most simplistically,
is the management of Earth's resources intelligently,
and there are more than enough resources to distribute to everybody.
In the ethereal quiet of twilight's embrace,
Where shadows weave tales of existence and pale light,
Death steps softly, a silent harbinger, unveiling
The veiled truths that our lives have cloaked in illusion.
In the reflective mire of our fleeting moments,
We see the chords of our actions, woven from threads of triviality,
Mistakes carefully crafted into a tapestry of miscalculations,
A life spent chasing ephemeral echoes and hollow dreams.
Our hearts, once beating with the fervor of forgotten ambitions,
Now pause in the stillness, weighing the substance of their rhythm,
Each pulse a reminder of paths not taken,
Of choices made in the dim light of ephemeral desires.
Oh, irony, as death reveals the grand design,
A pattern stitched in haste, each stitch a testament
To the fragile hopes and fears that shaped our days,
Yet leaving behind the profound void of unfulfilled potential.
In the labyrinth of our consciousness, the ghosts of regret whisper,
The echoes of what could have been resounding through the chambers of our souls,
A melancholic symphony, playing the notes of our existence,
A requiem for the time squandered on the insignificant.
Yet in this moment of stark revelation, a light emerges,
A glimmer of understanding, shimmering in the abyss,
That perhaps the true essence of life lies beneath the veneer,
In the spaces between our miscalculations and our moments of clarity.
For in the dance of death and life, we find the ultimate paradox,
That in our pursuit of meaning, we often overlook the simple truths,
The quiet beauty of a sunset, the gentle touch of a loved one,
The silent communion with the infinite that lies within our grasp.
And as we stand on the threshold of eternity,
Facing the finality of our earthly journey,
We must reconcile the trivial with the transcendent,
Finding solace in the knowledge that even in our miscalculations,
There lies the potential for redemption, and for a deeper understanding
Of the boundless tapestry of existence, woven with threads of both folly and wisdom.
Do we wait for tomorrow,
as we wait for today
Do we see a connection,
false wishes to pray
Do we draw from the past,
as the circle is spun
Trapped inside or out,
is it then Zero-Sum
Can the memories forgotten,
revisit again
Do the feelings held back,
turn to poison and blame
Is our freedom beyond
our ability to reach
Are we the one student,
we’ve forgotten to teach
Is finality connected,
or separate from
Those things we hold onto,
and still try to run
Is that voice we hear calling,
from within or without
Are they really the same,
—once the circle breaks out
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Raindrops always fall each time you come around.
Dark clouds hang above us no matter what we do,
but each time we discover a little common ground
stinging raindrops fall from a sky no longer blue.
Behind closed doors, my outpour of tears fall.
Pulling the curtain aside, I watch as you walk away
rain streaking the window pane, it's your name I call.
Life resembles a dream, one that's turning dark gray.
Are we a phenomena causing these clashes of thunder?
We ignite like strikes of lightning bolts, and yet -
if we were to give in to our desires, pangs of plunder,
would we owe the rush of raindrops the gratitude of debt?
Things just moved too fast in what's between you and me.
It may not be love, but burning passion that sweeps us away.
Maybe it was just a childhood dream... never meant to be.
Do we risk our friendship, or is it good bye we should say?
I can't face the finality, the thought of bidding you adieu.
Let's walk between raindrops even when the thunder roars.
I'm willing to take the chance of falling in love with you.
and if it's love that causes the rain, we won't care if it pours.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A collaboration with Eve Roper ~
Eve, Thank you for sharing your charm with me.
With the onset of advancing age, so I find,
A man grows weary of all mundane talk;
Occupies his every spare, idle thought
With that of the slow, reflective kind.
Regretful of many a squandered hour,
Turning his back on the squabbling nations,
Their woeful, self-serving deliberations,
Dreams wistfully of his own starlit tower.
Should he hopefully find that blessed stair,
Wound insides of the ancient, dim lit wall,
Where tread from unseen feet sometimes fall,
He could but elevate himself above his cares;
There, throwing his soul upon the night,
Lift his gaze upon a tumultuous crowding!
His thinning pate adorned with a crowning
From a far-flung, pale, distant light.
And if he was to fix his mind upon that point;
To that moment forcefully bring to bear,
With every ounce of fibre when stood there,
An unremitting will to somehow exploit,
That, which, the mystics so jealously guarded...
Then, perhaps, he might too ascend?
For, in all reality, at the very end,
All is thrown off...the very body discarded.
Therefore I will choose my own finality.
I give my remaining days to old worn steps
Enclosed in rock, a turret that silhouettes
Against an endless sky; and if it should be
That I find such hallowed battlements
Give aging legs the strength to slowly climb,
To praise the celestial and sublime,
When reaching up where my God frequents.
For though those stars seem out of reach,
Unattainable by grand, omnipotent design,
Nevertheless I am thusly to be inclined
To offer up a prayer and unto him beseech:-
"Immortal father who created mortal man,
Ye who sits above all earthly thrones,
Give unto me old tools and rubbled stones,
And I shall endeavour to do what I can...
To rebuild that abandoned, crumbled tower...
For, Lord, be it only by dreams men are
Truly empowered"!
Living in the abandon, the abscense. Living in the questionable finality. Why else should one live if not for one another? Why else should one die if not to save another? Why should I sacrifice a moment of your happiness with my silence when I am sure of its lacking? If I have loved so deeply, why should I let it go to see if it will come back to me when the path has been obscured by a force so dark that I am inclined to continue to shine a light so that it might be seen even in your darkest hour, am I wrong for having loved or for shining the light? If I have believed for a moment that I am finished, I do not remember. If you believe for a moment that I should be, I must be gone. If I live long enough to cast one candle flame to your periphary that you might turn toward it and step back onto the path, then I can set you free never to wonder if you would come back to me, for I would die knowing I had shown the light just long enough to be sure.
Too early for festivities, Christmas stillness crouches
Soon puncture of anticipation unpacks gifts
Humid harassment, curtain pummelling sun pounces
Dull of smug day blocked, first denial assists
Performed to prosper, biology reaps what's obtainable
Demanding we sit attentive in its auditorium
Under Star of Bethlehem, glory of Christ born in stable
Impossibly modest birth place unfit for Him
Finality of year held close by opportunistic beginnings
Tradition wreathed by assurity of expectation
Emerged from trauma, miracle newness distinguished
Hardship God given culminates in celebration
18th December
- Angels -