The death is a well-closed wound.
aphorism by Hasier Agirre, translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flesh Wound
We flew over miles of ocean--be prepared.
I don't have the faintest notion who'll be there.
You underestimated; nobody sympathized.
I think you'll soon feel better once we get inside.
I see the door is open -- Why don't we walk right in?
Let's put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you'd be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound--another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound--another irritation you abide
You know the rumour's going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn't be surprised.
I say -- you're so outrageous -- you'll go to number one!
They'll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound--another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you're completely debonair;
Let's go dutch -- it's only fair.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound--another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound--another curse that you ride.
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unto This Last
They brought my fair love out upon a bier—
Out from the dwelling that her smile made sweet,
Out from the life that her life made complete,
Into the glitter of the garish street—
And no man wept, save I, for that dead dear.
And then the dark procession wound along,
Like a black serpent with a snow-white bird
Held in its fangs. I think God said a word
To death, as He in His chill heaven heard
Her voice so sweeter than His seraph’s song.
And so Death took away her flower-sweet breath
One darkest day of days in a dark year,
And brought to that strong God who had no fear
My own dear love. Ah, closed eyes without peer!
Ah, red lips pressed on the blue lips of Death!
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In High Noon's Heat
In high noon's heat in a Caucasian valley
I lay quite still, a bullet in my breast;
The smoke still rose from my deep wound,
As drop by drop my blood flowed out.
I lay alone upon the valley's sand;
The mountain ledges closed in all around,
Sun burned their yellow peaks
It burned me, too-but deep as death I slept.
I dreamt I saw the shining lights
Of evening feasting in my homeland.
Young maids with flowers in their hair
Spoke gaily of me 'mongst themselves.
But one maid sat apart in thought
And did not enter gaily in,
Her youthful soul was caught it seemed,
Lord God knows how, in some sad dream:
She dreamt about a valley in the Caucasus;
She knew the corpse that lay upon the ground;
His breast was blackened by a smoking wound,
His cooling blood was flowing in a stream.
poem by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Toy Soldier
Once upon a time there was a toy soldier and he lived in the play room
Once upon a time there was a toy soldier with a whip lash in his hand
And every night little girl sadie would take all her clothes off and wind up the toy soldier and he raised his whip and said
On your knees little sadie
Little sadie on your knees
Taste the whip and love might given likely
Taste the whip and bleed for me
Little sadie loved her little toy soldier
And she run home from school each day
Little sadie loved her little toy soldier
And she locked her door so she could play
Little sadie got ambitious
And wound the clockworks so to tighter
So he could whip her harder and harder
On your knees little sadie
Little sadie on your knees
Taste the whip and love might given likely
Taste the whip and bleed for me
One day sadie wound and wound
And wound and wound
And wound and wound
Til suddenly the little toy soldier spring, went. . .
(ugly, beat her to death)
Ahhhh
Cough, cough, cough
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lazarus Heart
He looked beneath his shirt today
There was a wound in his flesh so deep and wide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
He turned around to face his mother
To show her the wound in his breast that burned like a brand
But the sword that cut him open
Was the sword in his mothers hand
Every day another miracle
Only death will tear us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
Though the sword was his protection
The wound itself would give him power
The power to remake himself at the time of his darkest hour
She said the wound would give him courage and pain
The kind of pain that you cant hide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
Birds on the roof of my mothers house
Ive no stones that chase them away
Birds on the roof of my mothers house
Will sit on my roof some day
They fly at the window, they fly at the door
Where does she get the strength to fight them anymore
She counts all her children as a shield against the pain
Lifts her eyes to the sky like a flower in the rain
Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Son Never Shines (On Closed Doors)
I saw her there from afar
Her hair grey charcoal
Takes a drag from her tar
I kissed her a smile
But her blood red shot eye
Said the son never shines on closed doors
It's been eight long years since I saw
The woman who's labored
Since the day I was born
These wrinkles now face
To that cold dark damp place
Where the son never shines on closed doors
She said the son never shines on closed doors
I open to find only hurricanes blow
Take me away back to the green fields of May
Because the son never shines on closed doors
Death comes like a theif in the night
To steal while you sleep
The soul's flickering licght
Well maybe it's then
She said
song performed by by Flogging Molly from Drunken Lullabies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wound
a wound will always
be a wound.
a scar may come
to say you are healed
but soon it will
remember the wound.
perhaps you have not
loved enough
to learn from those
whose hearts
are broken, they
say: forgive and forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with.
quote by Harry Crews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bending Water
Our skin touches together
The kiss seems to better
While the sea sings his sad song
We stayed here all alone
With the eyes closed tight
Came a smell of a beautiful sight
Wind blows away that soft kiss
The touch of hand we will miss
Here comes the sad wound
A wound that hurts at night
And a soul so cold filled with pain
Where is it that we become sane
After the forgotten song
She waited her love too long
He leaves her alone awaiting
It's the sad sea she is facing
Soon it will sing again
A melody that steals her pain
The sun cries to the sky
We will never say goodbye
poem by Tom Buthkil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wound On His Forehead
he scratched it accidentally
perhaps when he was asleep
as he was wont
to raise his arms on his forehead,
and with uncut nails
he caused a wound therein
infected by his carelessness
his hand touching
barely almost anything dirty
he looks at himself on the mirror
studying
the gaping wound like an
eye staring back at him
asking
why should a man raise his hands
even when asleep?
and why should he wound himself
unnecessarily?
why does he not care about
the possibility of the complexity of an infection
that may even
cause his death?
is this the kind of surrender
he had dreamed of inside his dream?
his way of finally giving up life
since it left him with nothing to offer?
he looks at himself closely
now, he becomes a strange man staring at
another man he thought
he knew too well.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Sir Thomas Savill Dying Of The Small Pox
Take, greedy death, a body here entomd
That by a thousand stroakes was made one wound,
Where all thy shafts were stuck with fatall ayme
Untill a quiver this thy marke became,
Had Cæsar fifty wounds to let in thee
Because a troop of men might seeme to bee
Comprised in that great Spirit, this had more
Whose deaths were equalld with the fruitfull store
Of hopefull vertues, though each wound did reach
The very heart, yet none could make a breach
Into his soule, a soule more fully drest
With vertuous gemmes than was his body prest
With hatefull spotts, and therefore every scarr
When death itselfe is dead shall be a starre.
poem by William Strode
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wound
Cocooned in her spell.
Harpooned,
Can't you tell.
My heart bleeds the slowest death.
My soul needs just one last breath.
My emotions are marooned.
What magic potions
Can heal this wound.
All the steam
Passion creates
In lonely dream
Evaporates.
Dying in her embrace,
Better than
That long empty chase
- To nowhere.
Too late, our dead rose is pruned.
Beware that fatal wound.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tell A Lie
Tell a lie against a liar
As it will put him on the pyre
And add to it some good butter
This will make him a good food of the fire.
Thousand lies can not make a truth
But the truth can die a gruesome death
So I must have to tell a lie to save the truth
Lies are like salt and pepper to the wound
And lies can bread fast without any ground
The inflicted wound of the truth getting sour
And the life of the truth becomes too bitter
So it is better to tell a lie against a lie
Though I know it will not make a truth but makes the lie die
The lie can not go scot-free and be allowed freely to multiply.
So the liar must be checkmated by a lie and stunned his growth
As it will strangulate him and he will be out of breath to death.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unhealed Wound
Sometimes we don’t realize that we have been hurt
Until the bruise comes out and turns blue
Until the wound closed and leaves scar
Until the pain numb and still unhealed
Until what hidden scratched again and bleed more
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0989..... Death! Death! Death!
I don't fear Death
I don't invite Death
I wish I Taste It, But
I wish it's Peaceful
And not painful.
For, I can not not exist
I am Eternal, For
I see me in You,
In everything,
I don't fear Death
I Love Sleeps n Dreams
Death, a little Long Sleep.
For, Universe is Closed System;
As Clausius said
Sum Energy is Constant.
Where Can I go after
My Death, Only to
comeback elsewhere,
A little Hide and seek, like
Changing Dresses
All Beginnings must End
All Ends must Begin
Coins should have Two Sides
I come only to go back,
And to come back later again
I don't fear Death
I don't invite Death
I wish it's only
Peaceful, Not painful
Oh! God, please Grant my Request!
(12-04-2010, Chennai)
poem by Gan Chennai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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