Love the prompt!

The End:

i am not like you, you

see: i see the beauty in The End while you just

run and slam the door behind 

you. i know, this day will never be the same again

unless we live it: happily ever after, not just

once upon a time. teach me, how do you treat 

your life like a sprint when everything for me is

a constant marathon? how do you leave without even

saying goodbye? you were always one for slamming 

doors while i, i always had to close them gently

and you watched as i sobbed final farewell

through the keyhole. because you were already

ten steps ahead. and i, i always had to linger a moment

behind. i, i think the end is even more beautiful

than a beginning. can you imagine having a world

of unfinished starts? no, the final closure is worth far more

than whatever may come. let me take my moment: there will be

plenty of tomorrows left for you to rush into. breathe in the air

that will never be yours again. we will never be here again, we will never

be us again. is not bittersweet finality more perfect than

the unexpected? no, you say. you do not understand. but i,

i am not like you, you see: i see beauty in

The End.

Well, I'm not sure if this is exactly what you asked for. But here goes nothing

[Untitled]

Rockets' red glare and

Bombs bursting in air and

Red-white-and-blue over all

Swords crashing and

Smashing and

Guns blasting us down and

The blood flying all around

With the glare of the rockets and

The bursting of the bombs and

The screaming and crying and dying

The flag's still flying

And we still have hope. 

Ohh, I'm joining if that is no problem for you, Bluebird! Here's my poem I've shared before, I just had to alter a line to include "the end" in it. For anyone whom may not know, it's from the perspective of Marjane Satrapi during the Iranian Revolution. Good luck everyone!!

Death of the Dove

Fall back, fly back

Time of 1979

Your hands to our words

Like whips across our existence

Force your pathetic modernity

Religious falsehood

Down the throats of my people

Centuries of human dreams

Down the River of Styx

Your lies made you silent

Until you rose once again

Women made to ghosts

Men monsters of the night

Hunters, gatherers

You brought my people back

To our ancient times

Ancestors

Fools

You cage us now like psychopaths

Miserable western circus animals

Forced to fall into bidding

Kissing your feet

Disgusting, rotten with tyranny

Blade to one’s throat

Blackmailed into submission

The unborn cry

For futures, fates stolen

Their mothers chained in a cloak

Of impenetrable darkness

Who is to stop your insane madness?

Is it safe to come out?

Your bombs held above our heads

Our spirits cry

Fire licks the walls of every home

Within ourselves

Held tightly, cannot be set free

Do not let me go

I sit here, crying until the end

Following your footsteps without purpose

Children, so simple, we do not know

As one, I pulled strings of others

Why? To satisfy hunger

A country of a thirty-nine million

Raise their hands in everlasting joy

Sixty thousand under our feet

Yet you, my terrible

Heartless friend

Has been found ostracized

Cut off from a seemingly

Eternal stronghold

Rejoice for the king is gone

One shall live

Without the darkness of your power

Families in peace

Homes restored

Our men, now free from fighting

Women without veils

Yet

The death of the dove

Has come

Awesome poems, guys! I'm judging in 10 days.

Wow, I love everyone's poems! Can I join?

My entry! I'm crossing my fingers that the formatting turns 

a particularly finite universe~

we never talk about 

the end, haven’t 

you realized? it 

dances on invisible

strings— now you 

see it, now you don’t-

darling, don’t you 

want to know? you try

to catch it, as if it were

some sort of elusive

butterfly that you chase

but when you finally get

to it, it slips through your

fingers and disappears

but always comes back

to taunt you, love, haven’t

you known deep down,

you let it slip through, 

that one glimpse, that one 

moment of triumph was 

all you wanted, that more

was simply too much, too much

that you didn’t want to know, so 

you let it go, you let go because

knowledge is power, but knowledge

is also pain. 

we never talk about 

the end, but you, 

you were always 

braver me, you dared look 

while i shut my eyes because it's a 

suffocating sort of silence that 

fills up the room like the kind 

you always try to ignore but 

you can still feel it, thick and heavy

on your soul, you can still feel it, 

so i pretended not to notice because

i could not bear the thought of us

being oh so temporary, but i suppose

we are a particularly finite universe

everything comes to an end eventually,

we both know that but you always

choose to look ahead, to see, to know and 

i always choose here and now, to stay in

the moment, to enjoy it because ignorance

is a blinding sort of bliss 

but still

we never talk about the end. 

I'd like to join. 

She Cried When the Allies Called Him 

She cried as she watched him leave. 

His strong frame

Silhouetted by the setting sun. 

He walked tall, 

Soldiers uniform worn proudly 

On his back. 

He had long dreamed 

Of standing with his countrymen,

Tall.

Ready to defend England. 

The allies had called him. 

And he was more than ready 

To come. 

She cried

Because she knew

There would never be another evening

Spent 

At the Summer dance

With him.

Never be another day

Spent

Fishing in the creek by the house.

She cried

Because she knew 

He was never

Coming back. 

Night

The sun

It peeks out from behind a cloud

It's warming my face

So nice

The cloud goes away

It's so bright

Oh sun, I love you

But you go away

It's night

The moon is not as nice as you

But you will come again

This is not the end

Of happy, happy light 

--

I just wrote this on the spur of the moment. It's not the kind of poem I usually write, but I think it turned out all right.