The End Of Things

These lives so rapid that we lead, toiling down the path
So bent on gain and affluence, slowing is the past
But as time takes its toll with the memories that it brings
We can’t but help to think, “It’s the beginning of the end of things”

The innocence of children, hope and life and light
Can’t help but fade away with age, nature’s blight
We watch as that tolling laugh flirts and taunts and sings
Calling sorrowfully, “It’s the beginning of the end of things”

As lives drift away, a parting growing near
The wise sit helplessly and watch as that fear
Of their loved ones growing; the bell of truth, it rings
Tolling ever louder of “The beginning of the end of things”

The sun must fall with every pirouette of the earth
Our eyes must fail, dimming pitifully since birth
The loved ones die, no matter the sadness that we scream
Echoing forever, “It’s the beginning of the end of things”

Can we stop the clocks in the ravaging they cause?
Can we stay unchanging? A sigh of life, a pause
Holding in our breath as death and age will bring
The warning crying, “It’s the beginning of the end of things”

Youth must vanish, Friends must go
In these lives as we try to overthrow
That bell of truth with the tolling voice it rings
“The time has come, life is done, it’s the beginning of the end of things”

Now it is the end of the start of things
Nothing we can do, no cries of hate or screams
Can alter times encroaching, can change its descent
On memories and joy…

The end of things is eminent

Comments & reviews · 5
Note: You are not logged in, but you can still leave a comment or review. Before it shows up, a moderator will need to approve your comment (this is only a safeguard against spambots). Leave your email if you would like to be notified when your message is approved.

User avatar
J.C. Belding
Comment

You did a pretty good job with the ryming and your plot was great. There were a few bumbs and a slight confusion near the end but nothing to get worried about. Good job!

User avatar
Audy
Review
Audy wrote a review · Fri Nov 30, 2007 12:14 am

I like it, it's a strong message to write about and the rhyming scheme works, I don't think it sounds forced at all. I really like the first and second stanza, I think you did great there. The third stanza is a little rough, Kylan already mentioned, but overall I think you did a good job. =)

User avatar
Stori
Comment

This has a very strong rythm. Keep it up.

User avatar
Kylan
Review
Kylan wrote a review · Thu Nov 29, 2007 3:24 am

You actually managed to pull of your rhyming quite well. I was impressed. For the most part, things flowed smoothly and coherently.

However some of the wording was strange and difficult to swallow, such as following:

So bent on gain and affluence, slowing is the past
But as time takes its toll with the memories that it brings


Something here just seems to forced and contrived. Kind of preachy, if you know what I mean. Like a ballad or something. It fell flat. If you could figure out some way to be a little more subtle about your point here and try to sound a little less stuffy, this first stanza would be much better.

The wise sit helplessly and watch as that fear
Of their loved ones growing; the bell of truth, it rings


In this couplet, you jump from idea to idea so fast it makes my head spin. One moment you're talking about fat old guys and the next you're talking about the "bell of truth". Their's no buffer. I know it would interupt the rhythm and syntax of the poem, but I think you should make the transistion here a little smoother.

You have some great lines here, but I feel this poem lacks...grace. It's blunt, it's there. BAM: the point is made. We as an audience are not treated in any way to metaphors or similes or imagery. I don't have to work for the meaning. In the future, use some more imagery and take time to be subtler with your meanings. Take a look at Incandescense's poetry. He's a great poet to mirror.

-Kylan



When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.
— Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind