"conclude" poems
Death told her
her life should end
and he was her friend
Calmly, she stole my gun
she walked outside in the sun
pulled the trigger, set the mood
barrel to her head to conclude
I saw her head come undone
,,, Reached down, for my gun
Eyed the chunks in her hair
Now to my head |
|I draw a rose there.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 9:42 PM UTC
“Moby **** Herman Melville
<•>
~for the lost at sea~
after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining
the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls
sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality
I’m called to depart my beach shoreline unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming
god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion, nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties
my in-camera brain eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles
walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?
puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others
perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered
Memorial Day 2018
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Of which I promised this Forthcoming Gift
That Low-Resolved Program you often play
Mine of Sum's Direct robbed my Basics shift
Could make my Allowance afford one day
Till then, master those Memes and Squarish Crew
And ask your Score teemed to accumulate
I know you can do it, Technocrat Blue
And rake those Creepers down confusticate
Or shall I, along the mean, Journal's Writ
Ask for more Hints over Direction rough
You, Controlling-E, fly Normal's out-of-it
Conclude my Patience to nearly enough.
I'll trust the Swede with his Awards advance
Then I'll Trust you; With those Talents enhance.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
When I'm bored
I like to go on pretty girls' profiles
And imagine what it must be like to be them
To post a picture
And get that many likes
To have their perfect hair
Perfect bodies
Perfect smiles
To be beautiful
Sometimes I feel pretty
But no one ever tells me I am
So I go to their profiles
To remind myself
Of what society can say
But refuses to say to me
And I conclude
That it must be
Because I'm
Ugly
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
The Red Rain of Kerala wrote this Plague
Un-supported by Evidence and Song
As it wept and bled that once-thirsty Plain
Locals knew their throats will not dry too long
But how could they drink this very strange Guilt
When their Sheets un-furled like the Flags of War
And not until the Google-Heads came in
They realised it was foreign before
Samples were taken in pursuit of Cause
Then page by page those Suspects came to light
Was it Bacteria? Or Lichens-at-Lost
Either way there was some Blood to incite.
When those Findings end, much was to conclude
Which Creation's Purchase falls upon you.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
November is the cruelest month
Reminiscence forced of things far gone and
Bitter foreshadowing of what is to come
The leaves have lived up to their name
The trees, a shell of what they once were
The grass clings to its last hope
The temperature makes its empty threats
The beauty of Autumn deteriorates
She is haughty and cruel
We were strung along for so long
But like all good things
Her presence is too fleeting
We try to rationalize her departure
We didn’t need her anyway
Her sister is far more beautiful
Autumn was never committed
We will look for someone else
What luck!
Her sister is coming
Her name is winter!
But alas, how could we love
Someone so bitter and cold?
November is the cruelest month
Joy is attacked in a dark alley
Melancholia does the mugging
Bitterness steals the Hope
November tears apart the heart
With a ruthlessness unseen
In any other month.
The days are soon so short and cold
The landscape is so barren
There is a hint of snow
But it is more like rain
It is so unfortunate to see
Nature’s beauty going all to waste
The thirtieth is here
Judgement Day has arrived
It is only possible to conclude
July was great if too hot indeed
January hard but nearer the end
September its usual lovely self
One month stands alone in its horror
November is the cruelest month
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
I never had a best friend in my life till I met you,
All I had were normal friends who were not close.
The most genuine friend I have is none other than you,
I consider it lucky that me as a best friend you chose.
Now I won't ever disappoint you, my friend,
I am learning youthful ways from you now,
Of our friendship there lies not at all an end,
They will notice us only getting closer & how.
For you, I write this poem as I am really happy today remembering all the good times that we have been spending together.
Yes I am possessive and selfish when I ask you solely for myself,
Not because I am negative, but because I am hopeful that our sun will shine,
Your happiness is my main motive as I motivate you to study for yourself,
Not because I will gain something out of it but as you are going to be happy in future.
In you I have seen an Angel,
So helpful and kind you are,
Motherly care for future patients,
Now I conclude this post buddy.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
705
Suspense—is Hostiler than Death—
Death—tho’soever Broad,
Is Just Death, and cannot increase—
Suspense—does not conclude—
But perishes—to live anew—
But just anew to die—
Annihilation—plated fresh
With Immortality—
9.1k
I just feel so much guilt,
My words and actions built,
I know, what I did was wrong,
Tried to avoid it and be strong.
Following me has been the truth,
It was hurting like a tooth.
A second more, I could not deny,
Not apologising was a lie.
I'm sorry, from deep inside,
Clearly guilty, my hands are tied.
It was obviously, all my fault,
I have opened my inner vault.
I'm really sorry for my recent actions,
Selfishly searching for your reactions.
What I did wasn't kin,
I don't know what got into my mind.
Something wrong with my psychology,
From my heart I bring this apology.
I know there are no valid excuses,
Negative feelings arguments produces.
I'm really sorry, I truly care,
What I did was completely unfair,
Hope you forgive me over time,
I feel awful about my crime.
Please give me a chance to explain,
What I did was completely vain.
It was clearly way beyond rude,
Completely stupid, I must conclude.
I used words, I did not mean,
I need to stop-acting fifteen.
My actions and words, simply not right,
I'm sorry for my anger and spite.
Please give me a chance to explain,
There must be something wrong with my brain.
My emotions, I must learn to control,
And never hurt you, this is my goal.
I look in the mirror, feel so much shame.
It was my fault, I deserve all the blame.
Just don't know what I was thinking,
With all this shame, I feel like I'm sinking.
All the consequences, I completely deserve,
Can't imagine, where I found the nerve,
I just feel like the biggest fool,
What I did, was simply not cool.
Your forgiveness, I earnestly plead,
Without it, my heart won't be freed.
Please forgive me, I miss you so much,
Beautiful voice and your tender touch.
I agree, I was wrong,
Wish I could, sing a song,
I know you're are mad,
What I did was bad.
Nothing about it, I'm proud,
I was trying to impress the crowd.
Next time I should really thing,
Maybe even see a shrink
What I'm trying to say,
My love for you grow everyday.
We should never fight,
I need to hold you every night.
I've been lucky to have a girl like you,
I'm sorry if you only knew.
Feel so bad, for being so rude,
I'm sorry for messing up your mood.
I promise to treat you like a Queen,
I'm sorry for being so mean.
If only somehow, I could make things better,
This poem's from my heart, not just a letter.
Your inner and outer beauty amaze,
I'm sorry, for my crazy phase.
I wish to give you my entire heart,
Please forgive me, we could make new start.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Briskly walking with his head *****
Money and treasure, he aims to get
He is in a stampede, chasing wealth
Acute shortage of ‘humility and gratitude’
Compels him to slaughter a multitude
The desire for more than enough
It has crystallized and made his heart tough
Oblivious about ‘humility and gratitude’
Man agrees to squash the destitute
Unaware, that he may face the same fate
Even then he piles up his plate
When would he be humble and grateful?
For the things which make his life blissful…
Even while swallowing all that is unlawful
He persistently denies being shameful
His conscience reminds him of ‘humility and gratitude’
But he refuses to change his haughty attitude
Let me remind you that life is temporary
Nothing in this world remains stationary
Just like dust your stay is transitory
These two traits, ‘humility and gratitude’
Can help you to acquire beatitude
Don’t forget your final abode
Where good deeds won’t be sold
Remember, the fables of the brave and the bold
All of them possessed ‘humility and gratitude’
From all this, you may conclude
It is the purity of our intentions
What Creator expects from his creation
Everything else is mere illusion
Being a human, demands ‘humility and gratitude’
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
I lie here.
My eyes caress the ceiling.
My thoughts visit my past,
And bring back with it memories both fond and distasteful.
Artificial lights penetrate the eyes that once saw things differently.
Eyes now glazed with perspective given to them by experience and time.
Eyes that now display with more clarity where my thoughts lie.
Although intangible, I feel my breath dance along my skin.
I conclude there’ll be more of these moments to come.
So I close the eyes that once saw things differently,
As my thoughts stroll aimlessly into my imagination from what once was.
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 2:23 PM UTC
First it was a tornado,
Then it became a lion,
And one day it'll become a memory,
Floating...
Somewhere...
Burning paper tips at the end of clouds like ember,
And sunsets dipping below horizons,
To conclude that life...
Moves on...
Isn't it beautiful though?
Ripples like an angel's vibrato across waves.
Singing in harmony with perfection.
Silhouettes and dancing shadows,
Stretching beyond vision,
Disappearing under currents,
And making itself known in another hemisphere.
Peaking and rising and sharing its beauty with someone else.
While its absence is mourned.
Until it returns in the morning again.
Bring new hope.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
The Sword of Non-Violence
The time we born
Is a age of war-mongers
East to West
South to North
Throughout the World
There's not a single moment
You can't heard about a war
It's a must in our daily life
May be in lieu of civil war
But it exists
None can disobey it's presence
And,where there is a war
There must be a weapon
And,in true sense war can't be without weapon
There're so many varieties of this weapon
Even may be countless
But,once a person made exception
Yes,he invented a sword
The SWORD OF NON-VIOLENCE
Strange it seems to be
But,it's fact
And,we should proud of him
Because,he's an Indian
We all know him as Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
Also renowned as Bapuji i.e Father of Nation
We celebrate his birth anniversary as a holiday
But,did we even use his weapon once in our lifetime?
Surely,the answer would be no
But,if we really respect him
We should do so
Isn't it?
Think it off!
And,last of all I would like to conclude with
If he can so we too-Written on 02.10.2012
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
122
A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer’s noon—
A depth—an Azure—a perfume—
Transcending ecstasy.
And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see—
Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle—shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me—
The wizard fingers never rest—
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed—
Still rears the East her amber Flag—
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red—
So looking on—the night—the morn
Conclude the wonder gay—
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!
7.5k
I remember one summer we planted sunflowers
and I don't remember much else about that time
except for the fact that one day I came outside
and suddenly they were taller than the house
they were beautiful
but they needed the sun to survive
it doesn't take a genius to conclude
that once winter arrived they died
and I've never been much of a gardener
but you were my sun and I was the flower
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
Floating around, pretty and light.
The more of them that drift around...
The more beautiful the sight.
Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
They make even the messiest garden, shine.
No matter if the flakes are thick and heavy...
Or just a light dusting that's small and fine.
Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
Gliding through the skies, uncaged and free.
Only resting when the winds conclude...
Gently resting on every roof, hill or tree.
Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
Only present for such a short while.
A flying visit, and then they're gone...
But they sure do leave a smile.
Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
Making your garden glisten and glow.
They go wherever they please...
And please wherever they go.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
Tomorrow is my beloved Swedish Kent's birthday - a day he completely rejects. I do not, writing this birthday poem which I will present to him in spite of all protestations. I'll bet he loves it!
An Icke* Birthday
“I have no birthday” you insist.
Bemused, a bit confused
Reflecting, un-rejecting, I conclude,
“Good for you!
You never need add numbers to
Your written age.
You’ll grow more sage
Without a wrinkle.
Passing years will never sink you,
You who have no birthday,
Never born,
Never gone.”
At any rate,
I celebrate
This date
And will continue every eight,
For February is your birthday.
Enjoy the numberless-ness in your way.
So if I may,
I’d like to take you out to lunch
To munch on something to your taste.
Why waste an eight?
Why wait?
We’ll go to lunch sometime this week,
Take
our big car somewhere
To crunch on something nice to eat.
Peaceful, sweet,
We’ll have a great
non-birthday dear!
Your icke- birthday’s growing near.
An Icke- Birthday 2.8.2020 Birthday Book; Arlene Nover Book
*icke; Swedish for non-
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 6:26 AM UTC
taken for granted are the hearts made of paper and string,
which hang from ceilings and chandeliers for all to see.
You're never going to believe this, but for the last few weeks
all I could think about was the thought of you and me.
Alas, you were thinking of everything but me, and
maybe that's a sign we were never meant to be,
but I'll spare you the 'I love you but you don't love me' speech
and conclude with a 'fuck you very much'
an impromptu thank you for ruining me...
and hanging my heart up for all to see...
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
they say dreams
are the garbage of your day.
i agree.
considering my life
consists entirely of
garbage,
there is nothing left
to do than to conclude
that yes,
my life is garbage
my dreams are garbage
therefore,
i am garbage.
but garbage gets taken out
and picked up by men
every week.
so I guess I can't be
garbage
after all.
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 8:36 PM UTC
Can't seem to stop it.
Keeps Flowing
This gushing salt water,
these quick uneven breaths I take
like I am drowning and I'm just trying to get enough oxygen,
maybe if I could stop the shaking,
maybe if I had a nice clear nose,
I could have laughed.
But I didn't.
Can't seem to stop it.
Keeps flowing.
I lay here on the concrete,
and I cannot even see straight,
let alone think straight.
Can't seem to stop it.
Keeps flowing.
I cannot conclude on whether
these are happy fantasies,
sad fragments of memories,
or a mixture of the two
that is making me feel this way.
Can't seem to stop it.
Keeps flowing.
The concrete that supports my convulsing body
is soaked.
Every time I try to stand,
I hear a loud crack,
and find myself
cuddling with the concrete once again.
Somehow it stopped.
No more gushing salt water.
I still lie here with my silent, piercing cries.
With my writhing body.
With my nose and its trickling stream.
I must not have any water left to let cascade onto the floor.
But for some reason,
I cannot disjoin myself from this cold floor.
Cannot stand up.
Once I finally build up the courage,
something shoots me down
again
and
again.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 5:19 AM UTC
I feel a little confused
Like I have something to figure out
A little twisted up and chewed
My mind is racing on doubt.
I'm trying to put my thoughts
Into words in this writing
My hand it jots
The nails on my fingers I am biting.
It's hard to say how I feel
But I definitely know that I am feeling
Everything inside is real
I just have to find it by peeling.
My skin it itches from nerves
I look sallow and wrecked
I've stretched myself thin and over all the curves
I can no longer object.
I had to cry today
Because I drove myself up a wall
Repressing things I've wanted to say
Has somehow made the mountain I have, to climb, very tall.
It's not like my problems are anything important
But I guess they tend to wear me ragged
It's sometimes because I can be expectant
Of people and things that are jagged.
I have some things I still need to learn
But I'd rather be learning then at a stop
Like how not to expect and sometimes not to yearn
And when to skip, rather than to hop.
I try to keep my heart open wide
But that leaves it to be bruised
I have to let some things subside
And not let myself feel used.
I'll learn to be compassionate
But still protect myself
Though somehow I feel like I'm in debt
To all the dolls on the shelf.
I conclude this work of emotion
Still upside down and withered
At least I've crossed further, the ocean
But I have yet to meet the blizzard.
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 9:29 PM UTC
Look in the mirror,
That face is looking back at me,
Sure that face is what others see,
But inside is it someone else at times?
I’m left feeling like a spectator in my mind,
Feeling the world as it occurs around, disconnected,
Feeling who people refer to as is someone else, not me,
Feeling like a different person every few periods,
The habit controlling my body,
The conscious wondering what this foreign place could be,
Uncomfortable in my own skin,
I am left staring through the eyes of the person I’m supposed to be,
Meeting people, shaking hands,
Reacting as they might expect from who I am,
The person staring back at me from the mirror, is that me?
Alas I debate and conclude on who the person running this body could be.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:04 PM UTC
When I carefully consider the curious habits of dogs
I am compelled to conclude
That man is the superior animal.
When I consider the curious habits of man
I confess, my friend, I am puzzled.
4.6k
Here we go again
Not a single word in sight
No attempt at contact
Did I do something wrong?
Or are you ignoring me
Am I too clingy for you?
I don't believe a simple "Hello"
Every once in a while
Is considered too much
Maybe you're busy
And I'm overreacting
I can't help
But to worry myself sick
All these what if scenarios
Only to conclude you are alright
The sun resets itself
Leaving us another cyclical day
Of worry and ignorance
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
There is a Year part from which is assigned
Asides from your Truce to cover and rest
Till then, your Crafted Show to Fame consigned
My Girl's Centenniary will look its Best
This I Pledge, by the added Fifty-Four,
Honouring the Godfather I borrowed
If still, no Sound, least Assignment for more
Shall I conclude all my Efforts sorrowed
By then, to see and calculate for once
Despite I embrace this Familiar Ghost
This Truth - to Drill my steeling nerves upon
And cross-hair your Freedom which mattered most.
By that time, I should look for Someone else
Though in my Conscience I cast the same Spell.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC