POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.


A new year begins! But before we start anew, we would like you to write an “Ending” poem. We have to end before we begin!

Marie’s Ending:

Crash and Burn

The deadline came,
The deadline went.
I did not dig,
Nor make a dent.

And though I had
Sincere intent,
My chapbook bombed,
To my lament.

The End.

Walt’s Finish:

Hard Wood

A carpenter mistakenly
Drank some varnish.
He had a terrible end,
But a beautiful finish!

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196 thoughts on “EVERY ENDING IS A BEGINNING – Prompt # 36

  1. Rinkly Rimes on said:


    An unusual topic for the beginning of the year but, as you say, every ending is a beginning.

  2. Walt!! You got the first laugh out of me this morning!! Love that, beautiful finish! 🙂

    I’ m sure your collection will be perfectly content to rest a while, he/she understands how good and busy you’ve been with all of your awesome family. There’s always next time! Smiles to you!


    When last melodic notes resound
    They hang on silent air, drifting gracefully
    Like so many brilliant white snowflakes.
    Ancient flame flickers purposefully,
    Dancing amid ashes, holding heat hopefully.
    Tree looses leaf to bite of Autumn breeze
    Sent swirling, red against dramatic gray.
    Lingering lucid moment before departing,
    Dreamscape wrestles with reality.
    Each instance, a passionate tango with invisible time.

  4. From the End to the Beginning

    Mary Belle enjoyed life
    for 100 years and sixteen days.
    Then said good bye
    to earth’s crust
    on Christmas Day.
    Began her forever life
    as her family played
    the recorded song,
    “As the Saints Go
    Marching In.”
    What a perfect send-off!

  5. Henreitta Katie Choplin on said:

    Walt, I LOL’d, then read deeper….. Marie, you have lovingly tended to your family…..the Chapbook can just wait….. Hen

  6. Henreitta Katie Choplin on said:

    Before every new
    beginning, an old song ends.
    Its cadence does not.

  7. The end of the affair:
    he married someone else,
    happy never after.

  8. Alas, the chapbook. Dreadful things, M.E.

    Windy morning here in Nashville, but bright as all get-out. Happy New Year, y’all.

    Poem to Finish off With

    Writing on an iPad grown strangely slow,
    I imagine the fault is mine.  My habits are bad children,
    coming home as sloppy and unwilling to do the chores
    as they were when they started sleeping around and
    sending home post cards postmarked 
    who-knows-where, Texas
    and flyspeck, Alaska.  But with pictures of fame and respect.

    Could I read this retrospect into a recorder and give it sonorous importance?
    Do I dare to eat a mango, diced, beside sweet sticky rice?  Since last year
    at this time, I’ve one less gall bladder to my name.  The therapy of 
    exercise was no help to my joints, but staved off the fangs of depression.
    It curls around my ankles, begging to be fed, though.  One day,
    when my attention lapses, it will bring me down again.  Then it will crack
    the skull, and lap my brain like mango mushed with cream.

    The end

    • Fight it off, Barbara. You can’t go wrong with mango with anything!

    • Henreitta Katie Choplin on said:

      Wow, I loved this, Barbara, I felt it deeply…..hang in there.

    • Barb, go for the mango. Its sunny flavor will back off that dog of depression for sure.

      I don’t have kids, but I have a friend with four, and three are in their 20s. Her mother has Alzheimer’s and has to be put in a nursing home (she may have already; I’m not sure). Then there’s all the changes a woman goes through in her 50s.

      Knowing what she’s going through, I can empathize with the emotions here. Excellent poem.

      • Henreitta Katie Choplin on said:

        Yes, sometimes it snows a Blizzard, and the only thing that we can do is grab the shovel and keep moving forward throwing it outa the way of our good path!!! (it just started snowing here in Dayton, Ohio) Hen

  9. you two make me smile
    while I think of what may be a new ending.

  10. Ode to Celebration in Retirement Home

    our new year’s eve
    ended at nine ~ unamused
    by cheers,or lifting up
    another glass of sparking juice~
    so the others thought
    while we caught
    and held the gleam
    of eye to eye and time

  11. Happy New Year all!

    Endings before Beginnings

    My wife will often read the end of books
    To make sure she likes the way it ends
    Before committing time to the story.
    Often we wish the same option for life,
    Wishing to know the outcome before beginning;
    Relationships, jobs, school, pregnancies.
    How truly sad would life be if this could happen –
    True, we would avert tragedy and heartbreak,
    And mistakes could be avoided in advance,
    But how much more would we tragically miss?
    Treasured memories never to be made,
    Needed life lessons never learned,
    Joys and blessings never born.
    Let us forego scrying in the crystal ball,
    Leave the fortune tellers alone in their stall,
    Live and learn and love along the way
    Letting our story play out as it will and
    Only at New Years putting our
    Endings before beginnings.

  12. Pingback: Endings before Beginnings | Awakened Words

  13. kellyliving4real on said:

    Repeat Performance

    We can’t go back, but if we could,
    what would we do with the days?
    Pick up the phone, write the note
    or remain as we have always?

    We can’t go back, but if we could
    what would we do with the time?
    Lend a hand, do the small deed
    or only see our hill to climb?

    We can’t go back, but if we could
    what would we do with the year?
    Reach out more, make each moment count?
    We might not change much, I fear.

  14. Midnight Kiss

    File away the memories
    while racing down the road.
    The gift of yet another year,
    for all has been bestowed.

    Turn the page from December
    to January one.
    An ending to eleven
    means twelve has now begun.

    Count the days and find new ways
    to shed all earthly sorrows.
    Learn from the past. Live for today.
    Plan for your tomorrows.

    Close the book on years gone by.
    Look ahead on bliss.
    End one then start another
    with a tender midnight kiss.

    By Michael Grove

  15. Still smiling over your poem, Walt. sooo clever.
    Marie, You have given us all many chapbooks of beauty throughout the year.

  16. Happy new year! And thanks for all your fun prompts!

  17. Both were definitely fun reads! Thanks so much – and Happy New Year! ♥

  18. Fallout

    Accusatory bombshells
    Tossed into the chasm
    Separating us.
    Explosions shatter
    What peace remained.
    Fragmented slivers
    Slice love into hate,
    Widening the breach,
    Creating a distance
    No bridge could ever span.

    • Henreitta Katie Choplin on said:

      Oh, so painfully true…..until one of them gets ill…..then the other becomes a Master bridge builder, with help from Above…

    • Such a heartwrenching and all-too-often true poem. As Henrietta said, God can bridge that chasm, but we have to be willing to let Him.

  19. Marie Elena I feel your pain specifically having revisited the same undone chapbook for the 2nd (maybe 3rd) year in a row … don’t ask – but, have Sage Cohen’s “Writing the Life Poetic” firmly in hand (a Christmas gift) and ideas galore about finishing so … maybe next year …

    And Walt, I’m with Hannah – my first real laugh out loud moment of the new year thanks to you!

  20. Here’s an End.

    It was at the end that someone climbed onto the roof
    and dangled the wrapped-in-christmas-lights ball
    above the gathering crowd,
    and it was as they were raising the lit-up ball
    back up to the roof that I was already inside
    thinking about the dream I had where I was arrested
    for doing things an awake me would surely never do.
    Are you all right? Joe says
    and then We should make a TV show
    and then Did you see the sweater that guy was wearing?
    I have knelt in the snow and contemplated the end
    but not today, it being too warm and all.
    Almost beloved, where have you gone now,
    lost inside another unanswered text message?
    When it was time for another end
    we weren’t sure where it was we were going next
    but we could probably get hot dogs, even some wrapped in bacon,
    and someone said not to look back, same as Hades.
    Of course we all did but said we didn’t.
    Of course we asked about the flaming river.
    Of course someone, after too many drinks that taste like Christmas trees,
    rode the ball back up to the roof.
    Yes, it is time to go or at least to take a step forward.
    I am the ceramic blue jay and this is my song.
    I am the roller coaster and this is where I keep my wolf puppy hearts.

  21. Endings

    Fairy tales had happy endings
    when I was a child. As applied
    to life, dark storms raged,
    but like turning the page,
    I’d peek out between
    the slats my fingers formed
    waiting for the palest pink
    to appear and turn the sky
    and my world rainbow bright.

    As I grew, I developed a passion
    for arty films, people smoking
    in hazes of black and white,
    followed by endings that
    appeared as a mysterious
    stranger speaking a foreign
    language, incomprehensible,
    to me, yet I knew instinctively,
    to be sad.

    As I grow older and closer to my
    own ending, I find laughter
    and warmth my cosy
    fireplace setting, in a mind
    that has seen, and ears
    that have heard, too many
    tragedies, endings
    that arrived far too soon.
    Hugs and funny faces
    are my fuel to make
    tomorrow run.

  22. My thanks to Paula (pmwanken) for steering me this way; it’s been a while since I visited. “Crash and Burn” sounds like the nightmare of every writer seeking publication, and what can I say about “Hard Wood”? I love your sense of humor, Walt!

    Here’s the link to my poem about endings and beginnings: New Year

  23. Marie, at least you started…I did not even do that!

    Walt, when I need to laugh I look for your words. Truly clever. Oh, I like it! Now I need to contemplate Endings! This is one of my favorite quotes. It helps me let go!

    • Janet, your comment prompted me to go back to the top of the post to see the quote again after reading all these great poems. It also reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

      “Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in, forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day,
      you shall begin it well and serenely.”

  24. Well, I am attempting to get back on the poetry wagon this year… my goal is to write at least 1 poem/week. Any encouragement welcome!

    THE END?

    Some stories die, but
    new ones always take their place:
    keep moving forward.

  25. Words do not end silences

    Honesty will

    Having does not end yearning

    Love will

    Walking away does not end grudges

    Forgiveness will

    Knowing does not end learning

    Ignorance will

    Growing does not end childhood

    Maturity will

    Sight does not end blindness

    Acceptance will

    Morning does not end darkness

    God will

  26. ‘Pessimist versus Optimist’

    As you know, Earth is round, my friend,
    In life’s race ‘start’ and ‘finish’ do blend,
    As we all keep on spinning,
    What you see as the beginning,
    Is undoubtedly, sadly, the end.

    Yes, I know, Earth is round, my friend,
    But, please try (won’t you?) to comprehend,
    As we all keep on spinning –
    Here is where you start grinning –
    The beginning’s what sprouts from the end!

  27. Endings

    Endings of meals
    mean desserts on the way and satiation a step away.
    Endings of books
    bring a sigh of regret for severed relationships, but new ones `round the bend.
    Endings of years
    are bittersweet–anxiety of unknown events, yet secret shivers of anticipation.

  28. Hi everybody!

    Walt: Loved your poem! Short, sweet and creative.
    Marie Elena: Enjoyed your poetic spirit as well.


  29. The End of Ends

    The end of ends
    for which all time is cast…
    A prayer and a blessing
    for those who’ve breathed their last–
    Rest in peace.

    *This poem is dedicated to all those who have passed before the new year of 2012.

  30. Memories are what we leave behind

    A setting sun, into the western sea
    A glittering path across the waves
    Should lead into eternity.
    But in our hearts we know
    That sparkling glory and golden after- glow
    Will rise again tomorrow and the scene will show
    The same broad band of colors, shining bright
    across the waters from morning until night

    When we cut away the tethers we have bound
    Stealing away such mercies we may have found
    Sunlight slips away but will soon enough return
    all new and shining – that lesson we have learned
    We are the ones who are forever doomed
    to disappear abruptly and much too soon
    Our last words not always what we choose to hear
    when all eternity will leave its echoes in our ear
    So when we leave could we manage one small smile
    that lingers like the sunset’s path for just a little while.

  31. Cut-String Kite

    bright colors dance
    across the endless blue stage
    swooping, spinning
    seeming blissfully free
    nearly invisible is the tether
    to the one who controls
    the dipping and diving
    with tugs and slack

    what would happen
    if that line was broken?
    would the dancing cease
    would the dancer
    begin to find her own path,
    to reach the highest skies?

    one thing is certain
    there can be no beginning
    the line is cut
    and the tether finds its


  32. Pingback: Cut-String Kite « echoes from the silence

  33. I lurk no longer
    invisibility ends
    with my first haiku

  34. This is a paragraph from an essay, it’s not technically a poem, but to me it feels like one, and it’s about the ending, and the beginning.

    I take her hand in mine. It runs through my fingers like sand or water. I cannot hold her. She’s escaping me. She sees ghosts. She makes no sense. Then suddenly she looks straight at me, and through me, and says, “A good woman is going to have a baby.” Where does this come from? Have the angels sung this to her to lull her to sleep? Was it something her mother told her on Christmas Eve a long, long time ago? Or does she somehow know about me? I touch my stomach. Deep inside the flickering light of the new life is gathering strength. It connects to the flame fading before my eyes, and feeds on it, and passes it on.

  35. Making the End a Lasting Impression

    When I go I want to be remembered
    He said, me too, she replied
    So what should we do then

    Should we get blown into the sky
    Like Hunter S Thompson?
    They both agreed that wasn’t them

    How about donating our brains
    To science then? That was a quick
    Negative also

    Why not try living every day now
    As if it might be the last one?
    They granted it was drastic
    But worth a thought

    Maybe it isn’t the end
    That needs to be lasting
    She said, maybe it’s all
    That goes before

    Amen, he said
    The End.


  36. WOW! You poets are blowing me away out here.

    A hardy/hearty welcome to Rinkly Rimes, Traci B, and Gobsofstuff! Our poetic family is growing. 😀

    Benjamin, so good to see you!

  37. Life’s After-glow ….I did not see Marian Veverka’s poem until now. We were thinking along the same wave-lengths tonight:)

    When I shall lay me down to sleep
    Forever in earth’s clutch
    And all that you have left to keep
    Are memories to touch
    I pray that in a little while
    Your tears will cease to flow
    And thoughts of me will make you smile
    In my life’s after-glow

    Grief has a season; we must weep
    And tears must have their place
    But Time will heal your tender-deep
    And in its soft embrace
    Should thoughts of me return sometimes
    Upon life’s ebb and flow
    I pray that it will be a kind
    And joyful after-glow

    When I shall lay me down to sleep
    Oh, do not weep too long
    For grief is not a thing to keep
    And love will make you strong
    Then, in the quiet of your heart
    I pray that you will know
    The beauty of love’s finest art
    Caught in life’s afterglow

  38. FILED AWAY (a triolet)

    I can only look forward to 2012
    2011’s filed away on 12 weighty shelves
    No reflecting, regretting or delving
    I can only look forward to 2012
    Bright bobbles and Santas and Christmas elves
    all stuffed back into the loft. And as for myself
    I can only look forward to 2012
    2011’s filed away on 12 weighty shelves

  39. a comment for Janet’s poem – not sure how this is done

    To Janet: Yes, the same wave-length lead us to the same inevitable ending. you handled yours in such a gentle manner, with simple words and rythm and rhyme which blended so nicely into your thoughts.

  40. Pingback: HIATUS… but first, a little chi-chi! « Sharp Little Pencil

  41. Just when I think my inspiration is ending…

    At a Loss

    At a loss, plum outta new thoughts
    except those that drift:
    first letters, then stop-start words
    weave down the path to form
    phrases (stitches awkwardly
    frayed, signs of wear)

    When I’m at a standstill…

    I think on my friends
    the quirks and catch-phrases
    the confidences that
    make the circle ever stronger

    How we shoveled the shit back in the day
    I smile, pick up my pencil
    and suddenly, the absentee-brainer
    becomes a no-sweater

    End to beginning to end
    the heartbeat of the blend

    © 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

  42. “and suddenly, the absentee-brainer becomes a no-sweater” – how clever is that? A very cool poem Amy and great use of the wordle words as well … a belated happy New Year!

  43. Quit

    It’s just a few weeks
    off 5 years that I had my last;
    the day I quit. Lit up one last
    and then threw all the smoking
    paraphernalia away.
    And so I began counting.

    First it was hours,
    then days and weeks.
    Suddenly it was a year,
    and when it was 2,
    I’d lost track of my count.
    At 3 years I’d forgotten

    how long that I’d quit
    and at 4 years I completely
    forgot the anniversary date.
    And so I think it’s time to say
    that this is the end of my quit
    because I can’t still be quitting
    what I don’t do anymore.

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      Health and happiness to you, I am so glad that you quit!!!

    • “I can’t still be quitting what I don’t do anymore.” Love it! Congratulations, Misk! My son just decided to quit. He is in his 4th day now.

      My dad (a jazz drummer) quit “cold turkey” back when I was about 4 or 5 years old. To this day, he will sometimes reach into his pocket for a non-existent cigarette when he steps off the stage for a break. Talk about habit becoming a part of you!

  44. Andrew Kreider on said:

    Nobody warned me

    Nobody warned me when the front door shut
    a piece of me would leave as well. The rut
    worn deep into my heart from long routine,
    our blunted expectations, set the scene
    for this unraveling. Perhaps what cut

    me most was knowing I had missed a glut
    of signs, had let the feeling in my gut
    diminish to a whisper. What did it mean
    nobody warned me?

    If I had known I might have altered what
    I said. Instead those icy caps that jut
    above the surface chilled us with the sheen
    of easy waters over pain unseen.
    I could not reach you then – I would have, but
    nobody warned me.

  45. Such a beautiful poem. Many wonderful phrases, “icy caps that just about the surface chilled us,” “our blunted expectations,” “feeling in my gut diminished to a whisper.” So sad.

  46. Pingback: First Prompt Roundup 2012: The Friday Freeforall « Margo Roby: Wordgathering

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  49. Connie L. Peters on said:

    End of the Day

    The bare rocky mountain glowed yellow, orange, browns,
    basking in the sun like a giant prehistoric lizard,
    while pines slipped into the darkness like fleeing prey.

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