Bad Poetry Monday

When the World Comes to an End

Greetings and Happy Monday. Here’s a new “bad” poem to start off your week and maybe raise a difficult question in your mind. In the event you might think this poem has any relationship to the horrid events of the past weekend, rest assured, it does not. I originally wrote this as a stream of consciousness on January 19, 2017. I don’t recall what spurred this particular poem. Perhaps it had to do with the beginning of a new year and some reflection on what is important. I can’t say for sure, but in re-reading, revising, and re-ordering some of the lines, the words gave me pause. Hope it has the same effect for you and in a positive way. I don’t view this as a doomsday poem. Far from it. I think of this as a series of questions to rethink what’s important.

Hope you have a great day and week. I’m going to go hug my wife and dog now.

When the World Comes to an End

by ZJ Czupor

When the world comes to an end,

And it will,

Where will you be before gravity expires

And you’re hurled into the abyss?

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Whose hand will you hold?

Will you say, “I love you” before your last breath?

Will you have any regrets?

Will there be time?

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Will you be swinging for the fences?

Will you forgive your enemies?

Or more importantly, yourself?

Will you hug your dog one last time?

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Will you be smiling at the man in the moon?

Will you let the dirt of a 4.543 billion years sift through your fingers?

Will you leap for joy?

Shed tears of pain or simply yell, “Oh, shit!”

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Will you think about existentialism, pacifism, capitalism, or

Wonder, “What would Jesus do?”

Will you, like Charles Foster Kane,

Think of your childhood sled and whisper, “Rosebud?”

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Will you enjoy another round of sweaty loving?

Play another round of golf?

Type “The End” to that novel?

Or buy another round of whiskey for the boys at the bar?

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Will you blurt out in French, c’est la vie? even though you don’t speak French,

Shrug your shoulders and say, “Hey, it was a good run?”

Laugh because you won’t have to pay the mortgage? or

Maybe count your blessings?

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Just think: all that toil and trouble,

All the sweat and tears,

The pushing and shoving of the rock up the hill,

For what?

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For the last time, will you feel the warmth of the sun on your face?

Smell the musk and sweetness of the garden?

Dip your toes into the cool blue ocean?

Or climb the highest hill like you always said you would?

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Follow the flight of the hawk and the bee and the butterfly?

Will you be alone?

What will your last thought be?

And what do you suppose is next?

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