Stopping Point Poems | Examples


Premium Member accidentally teaching by example

One person cannot make a difference the naysayer argues.
But I do not take the bait, for I have learned.
Naysayers do not have a stopping point.

I could prove it to him.
If he followed me to any function.
Where a dynamo walked in.

For dynamos change the attitude and altitude of the room instantly.
I have seen this happen over and over.
I do not care enough to teach him.

I have so little time.
I jump into a room
And let a party begin

Uplifting people
The naysayer has followed me.
He gives me a hate look.
I guess now he knows.

Premium Member Welcome the Journey

Lately, I have been musing a lot about 'The Journey and the Destiny'.
Primarily, about the contents of a journey and its impact on destiny.
My destiny is my final stopping point; my journey employs multiple
starts and stops, paces and pauses, along many paths of uncertainties.

The journey unfolds with life, but we play a large role in the process.
The question is raised whether journey and destiny are predetermined.
The journey is a work in progress, and our decisions and wills are involved.
Some would maintain that our destiny is certain and set in stone, without any regard for our actions. This piece is not set in an opinionated answer pool      
but in a river flow of thought.                                                                            

Some would suggest that their destiny is predetermined, predestined,           and sealed. Others will say that trains do derail; the Titanic did sink;   
and that destination is not always destiny.

032322PSCtest, Form J-Just Write Me a New Poem, Constance La France                                                     Theme chosen: Journey
Form: Verse


Paranoid Or Normal

I see you respond to a comment with a like or laugh, mine wasn’t acknowledged

I see you getting together with friends, I wasn’t included

I write texts  that go unanswered and calls never returned. 

I sit In the dark reading books distracting myself from my own thoughts

I wonder if others think these thoughts or if they are mine alone. 

I  wonder silently if I disappeared would anyone notice

I think I could be better but don’t want to try

I look at the ceiling and it has a stopping point

Do I ?

Treading Water

I have been treading the water of the universe
For 15,845 days
Head slightly above the water
Arms and legs in a frantic dance for survival

You can tell yourself that at some point you will stop
There must be a stopping point, right?
The time to float seems like a luxury you have earned
But for today, day 15,845 you will keep treading

If you feel the water begin to creep up
If the universe seems bound to rise against you
You may want to flail about like a fish on the sand
But believe me, it will be useless

Better to sink into the water
Let the blackholes devour you
And come to find that what you always needed
Was the sinking

Sink in to the deep
Fall in to the vastness of the void
Stare with terror at the tide of destruction
Embrace your fate

And then

Emerge to find that what you thought was an ending
Is really a beginning
That the strange new shore upon which you find yourself
Is a paradise for the aching limbs that struggled for so long

You can float here
In the undulating waves
Of the new world
In a universe you found in your destruction

Jealous of the Dead

Dont know why i am writing this
Who is there to listen
Lonliness wraps its fingers round my heart and slowly
squeezes almost to stopping point and callously releases its grip
Jealous of the dead, envious of the silence 
and hopeful of the end of pain
Stuck at the party, listen to the vapious conversations of the world
longing for the last song
never wanting to belong
killing myself from the inside out
Cast your stones at me
I will not turn in fear
Rid the world of me
For i am all sadness
Shed no tears for me 
Time has slipped my grasp and pain replaced with naught
My pity for the pitiful who simply carry on
I sit here with a single tear within my hand
and pour myself into oblivion


Punctuation

It was just a few millennia ago
we stepped past the fire in front of the cave
and set upon the building of a tongue--
noun to verb to adjective, each an answer
for awhile until we knew that there was more.

Then when we could communicate, and think,
new options were there to dazzle us:
That which makes  of routine a stopping point;
that which wrings creativity from an ordinary life.
diverting us from "now" to "perhaps."

For a little while tranquility reigned,
to set the heart ablaze.
Comma, period, ellipsis, question--
we were carried away. Home was the heartland;
sorrow, joy, grief and celebration could be ours.

The breath, however, could not be confined
to marks beside the words when humankind
would yield to hate and love.  
Those contend within us still; the field
more wide than life or death.

It is the words that tear at us.
Devices decorate as writers' servants
and there is no end. The life calls forth
its irony and ghosts alone are left,
bearing their question marks

into an unknown forever.
      ~

Destinations

I have come to the crossroad, parting two paths
Contemplating, pondering, reflecting
I hear voices of falcons in a melodious tone
I came to a stop, which direction should I go

Every movie has an end
Every race has a stopping point
Every beginning has a conclusion
Every journey has a destination

Are there dangers ahead
And how will I avoid them
Will I be fearless and bold
Is the road as good as gold

Many are on the road to nowhere
Greener it looks, a road most traveled
Many go down the road with plans
On a journey they don’t understand

Travelers couldn’t travel both
The road leads where the road leads
A road without hope, a path without light
Many journey on this road, dying every night

They couldn’t find the felicity they desire
They couldn’t find the riches they longed for
They choose the wrong path they sought
And never knew true riches can’t be bought

I keep my eyes on the road as far as I could
Not needing to worry about people’s opinion
But giving Him my utmost life and attention
And reflecting for His guidance and direction
Form: Quatrain

Unworthy

Like a twisted climbing rose, you crept into my life.
  Taking my peace ,leaving only strife. 

  You pushed me to my limit, putting me on edge.
  Your abuse was like a stopping point, Like a privet garden hedge.

   We lived this life day by day,
   trying hard to stay out of each others way.

   Until the day that I stepped out of your trap.
   Realizing you were nothing more than a sap.

    And now my peace has been restored 
    the voices in my head I chose to ignore.

    My life is not like it used to be since I walked out the door. 
    Leaving you behind as I never did before.

Home

Praying for better days, praying for another way. 
For I've gone astray, unable to see the light of day
, who to call, can someone come help. 
No sense of direction, no energy, I have nothing left in me. 
My hands are folded, my mind is roaming, my heart is full, my soul is loaded.  
So now I've come to my stopping point.
 I'm tired, I need rest, my soul is stress, overall I'm depressed. 
I refuse to make another step, for I'm determined to get back where I need to be. 
Too many mistakes, so many problems, has caused me pain, no sunshine, nothing 
but rain.
 So someone please help me, show me the way, guide me to the place that I 
belong. 
Guide Me Home

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