Long Terminus Poems

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Actually

7/28/15

Actually
It's not the way it has to be

Another casualty
Inside the galaxy
While the wind blew diagonally
Offsetting several strategies
And physicalities


Across any region
Things will happen without a reason
During every season
Regardless of if many terms were ever even
Or there never being cohesion

Concerning religion I care not about what any believe in
And the same goes for any discussion about how much we sin

Don't fret or pace with nervousness
This place in space can be rather merciless

With or without great turbulence
Strange occurences
Across a vast amount of changed surfaces
And nearby where almost all ran into the same terminus

By: Dalton Ogletree
Form: Rhyme


When the Spark Fades

It is a blessing when a decision is born on its own,
when a mind chooses its own terminus.
Everyone carries the burdens of their existence
the way one carries the ugliness of silent secrets.
You chose to leave, but behind you, they will rejoice at your fall,
not out of grace, but out of a jealousy that corrodes.
Human existence holds a worth nothing can equal.
Reducing it to dust for a replaceable attachment
is a deep misdirection.
One tragedy takes someone away,
another remains with the sting of fierce insolence.
When someone erases themselves for you,
it is never proof of greatness.
It is only the mark you left eroding in them:
their trust in humanity.
If the universal force walks beside them, they will move forward for themselves.
Otherwise, their spark may drift between two directions.
Self-love remains the strongest foundation.
Everything else is disguised worry.
And when we look at those who fight to keep living,
watching a heart surrender remains a piercing sorrow.
And within that inner turmoil no one can detect,
you move forward with your story pressed between your ribs.
They think you are strong because you stay upright,
but beneath the skin, there is that pressure pounding,
a silent battle no one truly wants to hear.
They judge you by fragments,
by actions interpreted in haste,
by faults stuck on you like labels.
They forget that a human being rebuilds slowly,
like a fractured structure still searching for its center.
Those who watch you have no idea
of the hardships you walk through,
nor the intensity that fills you when everything collapses.
They examine your choices from afar,
unable to grasp the strength required
to hold your own universe together when it threatens to dissolve.
But even in the most difficult moments,
there is a discreet source that remains within you,
a primal energy that refuses to disappear.
It asks for neither witness nor applause:
it rises, simply,
like a vital principle renewing itself in silence.
When you feel decline striking you down,
remember that your existence is not measured
by toxic gazes,
nor by the departures that tore you,
nor by the words that diminished you.
Your life surpasses the fragile ties
that tried to confine you.
Your being rises beyond the old wounds
that made you question your worth.

Describe Heaven

I believe that Heaven is a place
where all our souls, long hidden from our sight
finally blossom, coming face to face
with he who is the truth, the love, the light.
No need for memory, the past no more,
eternity, the now, our new abode,
our life's journey complete, we reach the shore
the terminus for all the faithful roads.
Our loved ones we shall know although they be
in different form, by his divine grace
revealed to us, and through our hearts we see
the real them, no need for form or face.
Cocooned in something we have never known
since though alive, unaware in the womb,
real peace, real love, no fear we shall be shown
a calm sanctuary far beyond the tomb.
A  new found freedom, joy, life's battle won,
a celebration, ecstacy, release,
paid for by our Creator's only son
who offers all, alive or dead, his peace.

9th September 2018
For contest 'Describe Heaven', sponsor Faraz Ajmal
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

A Bonanza of Opportunities Went Up In Gun Smoke

As if in a decades long
     somnambulant trance
     for majority of years
     I finally awoke,
three score minus
     one orbitz tracked 'round el sol
     by this human drone,
a custom made incognito

     stitched while in utero
     yeah... my birthday suit mask
     disguised this bloke
yet plainly visible, aye donned
     a permanent cloak
always fitted me skin
     tight easily permitting
     ingress and egress okey doak

majority of mein kempf
     ambivalent about (no...no...no...
     despised) self as
     apathetic behavior did evoke,
yet slip out from
     under the Harris tweed,
     Scottish door Matt,
     parental tender caring folk

now, such indifference,
     whether dead or alive,
     tummy this thinking haint write
especially nearing quotidian,
     the terminus twilight
     of existential parabola
     fifty nine submucous cleft palate
     nasal note more'n slight

     chalked up to biochemically, right
     hermetically, and neurologically quite,
though not profoundly disabled,
     a riddled quirky
     psycho-social plight,
(cultivating an unhealthy
     absent self esteem inferior complex)
     I exhibited half

     hearted feeble feints
     to muster willpower morning till night
oft times nobody home,
     and nary boot faint light
doth shine on me
     (feeling comfortably numb),
     a puny white knight er
     rather pawn on chess

     board of life with 20/20 insight
while standing at a paltry
     just shy of seventy
     two inches in height
shortchanging latitudinal longitudinal
     maximum parameters to attain
but more critically, detrimentally,
     emotionally constitutes current bane

analogous to Atlas
     hold the world
     did more than force him to crane
his neck, but imposed
     a global estuarial drain
as all the seven seas underwent
     gravitational pull that's
     the best aye can explain

oh...but such fiction a mythological sling
shot across the bow civilization
     the metaphorical resonance
     pertains to me, and doth ring
real asper millstone over bearing
worth repeating here,
no matter mentioned in previous poems
     bitterness of mine despairingly cathartically airing.

Premium Member Vacancies

the coastal train began to slow
as two tracks merged together
it stopped at the end of a single line
in freezing winter weather.

the arrow on the 'way out' sign
led me through a covered hall
but my ticket proving I had paid
was never checked at all.

I walked downhill towards the sea 
and left behind the train
motionless at its terminus
and exposed to driving rain.

a small boutique was “CLOSING DOWN!!”
on its "FINAL BIG SALE" day
but despite saying “OPEN” on its door 
it had long closed anyway.

I walked past moving spinning lights
that chased and made a noise
inside a place where grabbing cranes 
missed grabbing plastic toys.  

a gull perched on a wet sea wall
shrieked out its gull like sound
it never moved as I walked by
but stared and stood its ground.

the mist and sky were grey and one
and rain was teeming hard
as thick wet sheets of 'nothingness'
blanked out the promenade.

a man head bowed against the storm
and dog chasing its tail
were at the mercy on the beach
from rain that morphed to hail.

and all those places I once knew 
'were on a different street'
with signs that stated "VACANCIES"
and "BEDROOMS ALL EN-SUITE"

I never found that B & B 
recalled through misty eyes
and the park that I remember
over time had shrunk in size.

there were parts of town I recognized
and parts that I’d forgot
the cinema had disappeared
but the beach café had not.

with all its red formica tables
and warm and cosy light
the small café dispelled the cold
and put the rain to right.

there was beauty and some sadness too
jolting memories by the sea
I’d reached out to a time long gone..
..and it half reached back to me.
Form: Narrative


Watchers in the Gloom

To that shadowed city round
Come those that are sorrow bound
In their multitudes alas
Through a Terminus so vast
For a city grim enabling
Their eternal laboring 
From the parapets looking down
Cold and timid souls abound
To shed their tears in torment rife
That shed they not for all their life
And from the masses on the wall
Does that gentle misery fall
It stains the heights in colors woe
And settles heavily on those below
Who join the marchers in their toil
Redemption seekers one and all
They wail and walk an endless path
Divined here by no mortal wrath
Their tribute to a city sown
By their tears and ghastly moans
For they seek in the hereafter
What risk rewards and all its laughter 
For they in life with trouble severe
Found not the will to persevere
And made a choice by many before
To embrace a simple life and ignore
The treasures offered and wisdom attained
That adversity's teaching hand ordained
© Rhan Henry  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Free Will Hath Limitations

(following on figurative heals 
   sans, l'amour, 
i.e.,and that bastard conception 
   of life, liberty, and the
pursuit by George - Marshall ling, Grant 
   ting, and Bing Frank.)

Expectant motherhood generates aurorean
sonogram x-ray zooms 
   bringing developed fetus 
   healthily shimmering viz, 
   quasi hologram seen
glowing halo, inducing 
   jubilant kickstarter lil bean, 
administering capitalone 

   earthlinked joyful lyft, 
   natural pheromone readying cerulean
tommorrows, venerated ecstacy doth gleam
zinging bounteous 
   dizzying feelings hormones houseclean
jackanapes leviathon nestling 
   pinterestinly interocean
reaching terminus vista 

   xing zee birth canal mien
doctor readies Fallopian tube cutting 
   helping jiggle little nymphean
possibly ranking... 
   as future topnotch venerated Olympian 
fast forward to joyful loving neuro
   logically plain resplendent teen
knee weeny tiny 

   vaunted expanding zing 
   baby dripping Vasoline
like goo fully gesticulating 
   happy jolly newborn.
Which miracle whipped 
   purely by chance
given reason to the most orthodox 
   to sing and dance,

sans said singular biological 
   phenomenon does enhance
freshly minted parents, 
   or the mommas 
   and papas genetic 
   copy wrought grants
who already passed along 
   to a brood of offspring
 
   gushing with excitement 
   akin to fire hydrants
spewing forth fountain head 
   treasuring such Kodak moment, 
   cuz such instance
and subsequent tender 
   wonderful blessed 
   Instamatic reverent cherished instants

will zip at greased lightening
   via speeding hurled lance
sing remembrance of things past 
   during twilight years, 
   an eye blink those yesterdays, 
   when my troubles seemed so far away
   and upon being centenarian, 
   doddering fogie gripping hold,

   hugging intensely, indubitably decrying
   how quickly of 
   decades long ex pants
   didst elapse, when tendering
   to a coliciky, finicky, 
   inscrutably lemony snickety offspring
   wishing infant would grow up already, 
   now onset of autonomy 

   Das Agean sea sunned 
   father or mother 
   hood doth rants
at father time, he doth access
   without a word an excel lent 
   power point demonstration 
   with near vertical line brevity
   of how mortality slants.

Premium Member Exit Ramp

The exit ramp looms large just up ahead,
though still an unknown distance ‘round the bend,
a terminus of sorts.
Perhaps a point from which to send
us out of time constraints, into the now,
the means by which remain unknown, just how
exactly, this all ends.
To fret, a waste, ’tis said, so I shall trust instead.

And yet, this ideation blooms within
my mind, a frequent fascination that
with other thoughts, comports.
If only now, is there no then,
and sequencing of time, thus obsolete,
as all arrive en mass, surprised to meet?
The world I know is flat;
my finitude stretched thin, constrained to trust again.


—————

Another fun one, a Mistress Bradstreet stanza: 10a-10b-6c-8b-10d-10d-6b-12a

This one comes from a notion from reading Matthew 25, in the Last Judgment. All would have died at different times, but on that day, all were surprised, hence the idea of different departures, all arriving at now.

----------

This will be the third time I've added sponsor info. I do not know what is happening here...

for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 22 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written on 10/13/22
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Other

Premium Member Zabu

Ferocious inimitably potent fighter,
The fictional tiger zestful might igniter;
Guard of the Antarctic primeval savage land,
Encircles by chasmal volcanoes, fire band...!

Nuwali, a bright tribe of dinosaurs era,
That changed millions of years of fauna and flora;
The big cat, comrade, and ally of the Ka-Zar,
Escapes wreck by Terminus, an alien star...!

Kiths and kins were killed by hunters of the jungle
Stives for existence and survived amid bungle;
Saves Kevin from foes and tended him as his son,
Secures him till adulthood; many wars he won...!

With his Pet Avengers, the dragons he tackles,
Each enemy before him, he calmly shackles;
Confronts El-Tigre, and Man-God; roots out monsters,
Blows out and keeps away all boasters and roasters...!

The power fight midst pet avengers and Zabu,
This leads them to horrible confrontations, new;
Suffers from infection by the zombie virus,
Archives his tasks, and becomes, for all, desirous...!!!


23 March 2023
Marvel Superheroes Supervillians and Superanimals Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone 
Syllables Achcked At: How Many Syllables
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Wander These Winter Beaches

i wander these winter beaches 
where autumn's storms
have removed the footfalls of summer
believing in spring

here i am alone listening
to the waves mellifluously remind
yet never recalling
floating the river Lethe
alone where the frigates soar above
pelicans traversing the waves
the terns work the receding water
i am the intruder

waves erasing my past
placing before me rearranging sands
paths never worn
only the belief in spring
with each step forward

i wonder if the gulls see
my past being removed, the future
dependent upon some wave
fortune or contretemps
i wonder if the gulls feel
this surreal gull glides, turns, drift
upon grateful wings
grateful to those who long ago
gave freedom to thought from hunger
the plight of thought
the flight of thought
freeing this surreal gull to wander in wonder

i wander here keeping the dream alive
faith it will evolve into more
some empyreal dictate
some Newtonian machine
there is a numen to winter beaches
here i can laugh with humanity, smile
the hubris belief this can be destroyed
changed yes, but so may volcanoes, asteroids
none of which has a brain
here i can believe that dreams
will be given to reason, logic
and end to war and peace on earth
that there is nothing fatal
even science cannot deny
these rearranging sands and time
will produce another poet wandering, wondering

i wander these winter beaches
where autumn's storms
have removed the footfalls of summer
knowing sunrise, sunset, and spring returns
i am alone, yet far from alone
i am home
where dreams glide, turn, drift
soaring in the thermals of thought
the flight of belief

terminus ad quem
terminus a quo

Playa Del Rey   91   The Patient Stones

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