Long Last word Poems
Long Last word Poems. Below are the most popular long Last word by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Last word poems by poem length and keyword.
We can't have a child.
It's not a matter of want,
of belief,
of opinion.
We cannot.
Every doctor says, my wife will die.
The child might live, or might not,
but the love of my life will not,
not a guess, not a chance.
Just a death.
You can give your life, for another's.
Your death can stop one more,
if you're a cop, a soldier,
a hero, a nobody.
But we can't make you do it.
There is no law for that.
If a soldier lays down his life,
he is awarded, praised,
if he doesn't, he is not punished.
Not imprisoned for living.
So why would my wife trade, at best,
her life for one she will never meet?
Why would I trade my love's life
for a roll of the dice on another?
Why should we be forced to?
For a heartbeat, a whisper of a breath,
that may never make it out of the womb?
For a bitter, beaten man to live alone
or with the child who reminds him of loss?
Why should anyone else get to say?
Why should anyone else get a choice,
even if such weren't true?
Why should you get to choose
that she bear still heart, again and again?
To satisfy your hope, not hers?
Why should you get to speak,
if a woman has no voice?
If she has no money for a child,
no wish to birth her abuser's spawn?
To please your god, not hers?
Why should you get to decide,
why should you get the last word?
On any life that isn't your own,
any consequence not yours to bear?
To save an unborn life, not hers?
You should not.
It is not your choice, not your life,
not your grief, your sorrow,
your freedom or your death.
It is only, your opinion.
There is no right to such thoughts, only control.
Gather your countdowns to a week,
your milestones and your markers,
your intentions for the lives of strangers.
Burn them, turn such vile filth into ash.
Women owe society no life.
No attempt at a child, no health,
no life wasted, in death or in despair,
just for a chance at someone else's hope.
Someone else's decision.
Why should a fetus be sacred,
when the life, voice and sanctity
of the woman it could become -
so clearly mean nothing to you?
No matter the subject or topic
tho' it may burn will I ever learn
would it hurt if my lips were to close
as whatever I submit suggest propose
she will be myopic
nay-say gainsay contradict oppose
may as well hold my breath
as every word I utter
receives the kiss of death
and melts in my mouth like butter
should I assert it's what she does it's her wont
'No I don't,' is her depiction
in contentious rebuttal
thereby confirming my conviction
and morning noon and night
she'd like to be I'll also mention
tho' none too subtle
the epicentre of my attention
is it a female thing or only her compulsion
for at the end of the day
it's not the last word she wants
it's the final say
Here I sit with, my mind, closing in...
On a memr’y, I’ve tried, to escape...
I drink everyday, try’n to turn the page
But it keeps on, getting replayed
She’s the reason the barstool’s still around
It’s like she put, my heart, into a lost and found
No one is looking, for a heart that’s torn out
She’s the reason the barstool’s still around
I know, I’m not, the first man...
To wonder, where love goes, when it dies...
When goodbye’s the last word, that you hear...
It’s too late, so why even try....
She’s the reason the barstool’s still around
It’s like she put, my heart, into a lost and found
No one is looking, for a heart that’s torn out
She’s the reason the barstool’s still around
I’ve drank my sorrows worth of whiskey
And the beer makes, this hollow chest feel fine...
I just wish she had thought things over
As I sit here fearing closing time
I drove me to drink
But I can’t make it home
I dial up her number
Then hang up the phone
If you wonder why most men
Precede women into the ground
Well she’s the reason the barstool’s still around
As if our fights were not fractious enough,
Look, children have picked up the cue from us
And unless we call truce for peace and love,
Things might blow off the roof what with all fuss,
She complained once, nudged by the lost out sense.
Relax, I said, a conflict has its use,
So has this friction if confined to fence,
Only, it’s a double-edged sword to choose.
Life, what an opus if fights forge out friends!
Thank friction, a caveman found out the fire,
Stop all chafing, wheels would go out of hands,
It can lift humdrum life a tad higher,
It’s friction that dull edges get vetted,
Without, bonds of ties get not well-knotted.
If friction does within fixed fulcrum lay,
But not, were it to rub in a wrong way.
__________________________________
Sonnet | 01.01.2026 |conflict/friction, family, marriage
Note: This sonnet should have ended by the fourteenth line, but for the fact that every wife enjoys her birth right to have a last word, and here she insisted on adding her own couplet.
Oh my beloved
unlock yourself from my mind
and appear before my eyes
whenever I think about you
so that I can see you
when I long to be near you
When my mind's stream of yearnings
starts pouring out like a waterfall
and flows as a river of romantic verses
that I write only for you
oh! how much I wish
that those words of love
that my muse sprinkles in a blank paper
gather themselves on their own
to sketch an alphabetic portrait of you
so that I could keep gazing
at your charming face
When fate, like a monster, separates us
All I wish is...
To just be the last word
of your most inspiring verse
that you already have in your mind
and yet to write in pen and paper
To just be an unstressed syllable
of your name
whenever and wherever
your name is called out loud
to honour you
To just be the faint flickering light
at the end of the dark tunnel
of your dull dreary days
Date: 01/30/2023
Writing Challenge - B Word Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Forbearance ... I beg you ...
Must you squeeze - I the oak, you the stays, closing?
Is it not enough, yet, that your frigid fingers wrap my being,
That you and your legion have the last word of ALL words??
Must you tighten like a vise at every mention of you?!?
Your dim visage, naught but unbound and black ...
(Ever dancing behind corners, to the music of sad silence),
Grows heavy and horrid ... as I draw nigh.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Writing Challenge 1 - April, 2019 - It's All About 8" Poetry Contest, Sponsor: Dear Heart.
As the sun fades into nothingness
The moonlight creeps through the curtains
The clock on my bedroom stand says it is midnight
My eyes look for the familiar surroundings I know
Straining for one last minute of awareness
That also fades and I enter another world
My consciousness deserts me
Cold unconsciousness envelops my mind and body
Making me aware of everything I should never see
Dragons with large black scales fly by
Their wings blow a dry breeze across my face
I know what they are
I can see in their eyes what their purpose is
They are my thoughts, my muses
I watch them fly between a thousand butterflies
Around moss covered cypress trees teeming with life
Through dark clouds with bright silver edges
Black mists follow as the rise and dive
Wing tips skimming pools of stagnant waters
They fly widening circles as they scream
Piercing screams that rip the air
They have a message hidden in the voices
When they perch their eyes meet mine
I look at them as they look at me
I see what they want me to see
Their minds share words with me a thousand years old
My mind wavers for just a minute
Forming the right words, the right sounds
I sit in the blackness and write a poem unlike any other
And when the last word is written the dragons are at rest
At least for the moment
—The Virtues I Could Not Bear—
He bore those virtues I had schooled my heart
To flout—the mercy tardive as a bell
That tolls when judgement hath already writ
Its iron sentence; and the fortitude
That, having neither warrant nor reprieve,
Still stood, as though endurance were decree.
His papers sodden, rain-black at the cuffs,
He watched the departing omnibus grow small;
Defeat had docketed him among the lost,
Yet some unlicensed morning stirred in him—
A pertinacious ember without name,
Which would not let the ruin have the last word.
A rumour traversed the town ere Truth
Had found her raiment, fastened up her throat;
By vesper it had gathered testimonial,
By night, a hundred tongues had canonised
Its falsehood. Truth came mud-foot, unadorned,
And found the lie enthroned where fact should sit.
I watched him exhaust the stratagems—
The specious plea, the venial compromise,
The facile alibi by which we varnish
Our abdications into innocence;
Till every avenue of self-release
Lay shuttered—and he chose the steeper way.
I had imagined triumph a resplendent
Heraldry, some aureate certification
Affixed to what the world elects as worthy;
His triumph was the wreckage underneath:
Each failure divested him of borrowed names,
Each rising made the ruin less his own.
Then, inexplicably, the firmament
Descended—not as vision, but as fact:
The stars lay rooting underneath our feet,
And darkness flowered upward through the stone.
I understood no doctrine, only this—
The road was not discovered. It was made.
Let Hell prolong its jurisdiction; let
The false arrive before the true, and let
Our virtues wound the very hands that bear them.
We are not promised passage, nor reprieve;
Yet where the last conceivable way is closed,
the footfall itself becomes the road.
My God, make me the vessel* You want me to be
marked by divine craftsmanship… not
bearing grandeur of self-exalting potter the
aim is to become finest, full-fledged first…
Help me, Lord, to settle for Your favour toward sweet by and by
verily cognizant that You are my Fortress Whom
my faith clings to against human Gibraltar the
pillar of which wavers vis-à-vis the branded new…
Keep my heart in Your care, my Saviour, since it is
Yours… nestled in Your breast; cheered triumphantly when tried
all the more fortified by Your grace; neither retreating nor
surrendering while geared by Your compassion; yet
empowered toward reaching-out pursuits for the
glory and honour of Your name that will forever last…
Here is my spirit, my Almighty Creator, Whom I indeed cling to
while grateful worship upon Your altar my soul does lay
trusting Your guidance midst grievous attacks of the
foes, mocking my servitude, trying to resurrect old
nature of mine You sanctified and finally set aside.
"Be not the first by whom the new is tried,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside."
Alexander Pope – An Essay on Criticism
*2 Corinthians 4:7 But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.
September 28, 2023
It's a form invented by Terrance Hayes called "Golden Shovel" because it borrows words from classic & or previously written poems and incorporates them into your own write. The process is to take a line or lines from the old poem and each word becomes the last word of each line you write and...the quantity of words will, therefore, equate to the number of lines in your poem.
4th place, "NO 1247 NEW POEM ONLY" Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 10/7/2023
I close my eyes, and invading comes she
trail of daisies sway in her nimble walks
sweet whispers of selene verses...I let her in.
Fantasies cuddled in contour of her beauty
rain-kissed petals, is this what love feels like?
carnival sunny dreams, in cases most of the,
are only sad chronicles of a desolate night.
mythical and sinister... love is an emblem of
an alluring sky unfolding clear and cloudless,
yet it's leaves, one by one, wilt in autumn climes.
Again winds blow thoughts astray and...
an aura addictive, in her eyes so starry
rises a moon in mountain's black skies.
Again buried emotions go astray, and...
soft serenade echoes, I recite them all.
if this isn't strums of love, then what that is (that's)?
Notes tinkle in a tambourine, playing the best,
it's her tranquill ambience, I keep thinking of.
Invading comes she, from dungeons dark
again my enchanted heart goes astray, and...
I open my eyes, Oh! she is dazzling bright.
Last word of each line Inspired from :
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Lord Byron – She Walks in Beauty