To die, to be really dead, that must be glorious. There are far worse things awaiting man than death.
quote by Garrett Fort
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
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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
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Fate Worse Than Death
What is a fate worse than death you ask,
Simple,
Losing you,
Without you my heart would cease to beat,
My blood would run cold,
And I would become a lifeless doll,
Trying to get over you would be like trying to hide in an open area,
Not many things in life are worth dying for,
But you are someone I would easily fall victim to.
More than anything else however losing you…
Would be a fate worse than death.
poem by Silver Akira
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My Soul Weeps
I will weep and weep for you,
The world encaged you forcing you
Like the love of things
And the forgetting of death.
When you are dead, the art of living
Shall gain freedom, awaiting the return
Of the angels, the beauty perhaps
Or the pain of the Lord’s grasp.
There be knowledge, too, to know their folly
And strength, the single picture
So illuminated, late or soon,
But where is the last drop?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Duties, Regrets, And Big Upsets
Detrimental to life hardly... its not the end
but after so much regret and pain.. is this life worth it to mend
sit it out and wait
i feel like such things will not abate
this doom this end this death! mental, physical, or spiritual, death is death
Yet i am supposed to hope i breathe not life's last breath
nay i say to you
and i hope one day you may say it too
necessary to follow this job and complete said task
100% mandatory, why do you even need to ask
... maybe because some things are too much
and this thing is such
do you expect me to kill myself in one way
and life in others until i am dead in all
its rife now its rife pain, and ambivalence too plenty of that go away
cant you hear the tone the equivalence of death... maddening how i talk after i fall
maddening too... can you hear it inside your head
well i can... this is no chide... this is no call this isn't a game i feel dead
not yet not yet i hate my job this is no task this is living like a zombie
nay worse like one who is wounded unable to die or to heal! why? !
how...get me out now i regret it all get away no...strike me now! !
it must end these wounds cannot mend
yet wait do i see just a ray
is it possible that all goodness, all kindness, and all light haven't gone away
tis this a sign? tis this a ray of evil... nay tis a ray..... a ray
of hope
poem by David Knox
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Life Or Death?
Every day we live, we always face death
We get closer to it, every time we take a breath
Life is special but death brings peace
Life brings reality and things you believe
Death is hard for everyone around
Death is quiet, no more bad sounds
Life is also hard, all the things we go through
Life can never be easy, no matter what you do
Death is sad, for those who cry
Death is meaningful, for those who die
Life is a work of art, it's nice to look
Life is full of teachings, like an open book
Death is the new life, might as well be dead
Death is a lot more, for what's up ahead
Life brings new things, always something new
Life brings surprises, something out the blue
Death is scary, nothing we want to see
Death is negative, a place we don't want to be
Life is full of love, with the ones close to you
Life is full of money, for those who sue
Death is empty, nothing compared to this
Death is a lot of things, too long of a list
But life is everything; don't wait till there's nothing left
Death can wait, so don't waste your last breath
So just pick your choice, which one? Life or death?
poem by Triauna Hall
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Life-Ending
Who of us can escape death's scene
and if we could what would it mean?
Having to face a world gone mad
that can't seem to understand good from bad.
All of the ones that you held dear
gone beyond to a place you fear?
And if we do, who shall we blame?
Those that have taught us as we grew
all the things that we should do.
Things like hate and things to fear,
things like ageing with each new year,
things that tear into the soul,
things that surface and take their toll.
No, we can't escape death's scene
and if we could it would only demean
the importance of how our lives end
and the knowledge that death
is not a dead-end.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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They Say I'm An Old Man
THEY SAY I’M AN OLD MAN
They say I’m an old man
And they say I’ll soon be dead
And they say I will be dust forever
And all I have been be forgotten as if I never were
They say I am going to die so dead
That no one anywhere near not even in the darkest dark
Will love the light I gave
They say my grave too will one day be wiped away
And all I am be nothing forever and ever
They say I will not be
And I will never be again
They say I am going to die
And Death be my only end.
They say and they say and they say
But who are they
When I am here now
Writing this way
And making them all nameless and nothing
As if they never were.
They say they are going to die
And there is no escape
And neither you nor I
Are better or worse than they say..
poem by Shalom Freedman
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z-Dead Bodies and Casket Lids
As I lay here
in my dead body
gone;
I think upon what part of my life
will people remark?
Will it be all the good things
I've done
for others who may or may not
have given back?
Will it be my generosity
or my looks;
my achievements;
the little things-
the little gifts-
given
anonymously?
Will it be my deep thoughts
known to no one;
my love given
and/or lovers lost?
Will it be my secret
spot
unknown
where I go to
be with me
and just my thoughts?
As I lay here now dead
and done
I see that
it is too early
to die
for me;
too much undone
to my story.
Have to raise this lid
and get out of here;
because once I am dead
for good
I want to have a better story
of what happened to me;
if I am to be staring
at this casket lid
for all
of the rest
of eternity
my story
has to be
a bit
more
glorious
and contain
a bit more Good.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Your Self: from Plotinus' 'Enneads' 6.3
Seeing yourself - at last – so beautiful:
cease, at last, that vision to deny!
What then, to see in your so glorious self?
What qualities shine out upon the world?
Loftiness of spirit; righteousness
of life; the purity of discipline;
majestic face of courage; gravity;
fearless, tranquil, passionless modesty—
and shining down forever on all this:
that glorious light in all things known and seen;
that watches even, its own watchfulness;
your self as all things, ever known to be.
And now you are Yourself: a blazing Sun;
glorious with the radiance that is One.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Today... 'Rabboni
'Why do you look for Jesus amongst the dead'
These were the words the angels to Mary said
Later in the garden she heard You call her name
Then turning around 'Rabboni' was her refrain
The voice she thought she'd never hear again
Came speaking from the grave so clear and plain
There before her in glorious resurrection victory
Stood her Lord, untouchable but alive was He
You're alive! From the dead You have risen
and to You all the power and glory is given
You have risen in the power of an endless life
from the grave in glorious victory over strife
The gates of death You have burst open wide
Setting free all of the prisoners locked inside
'Oh grave you no longer have any hold on me'
Your sting is removed for Jesus holds the key
Death is vanquished and sins powers ceased
Now Satan is defeated and its captives released
Your victory over sin destroyed all of its powers
You have conquered death that final foe of ours.
Raboni, my master, my God and my Lord
Your victory and glory the heavens applaud.
Victor over Satan, Death and the Grave
and risen with power and mighty to save.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
An Anthem To Freedom
Were you there when Jesus bled
Before the cross, in sins were dead
By your hand in Christ were led
On to victory
Now's the day and now's the hour
Stand with Christ and stand in power
He's our Rock and strong High Tower
We're free from slavery
So will you come and fight the fight
March in the day and not the night
We will send them all to flight
This will be our day
Free men march and free men die
And all proclaim our God on high
His glory fills the earth and sky
Come Lord soon we pray
In glorious majesty He reigns
He's broken all our wretched chains
On Calvary He took our pains
And death has lost its sting
Now Jesus come and take your place
We lift our eyes, we see your face
Our enemies we now give chase
We serve our glorious King
No longer slaves and dead in sin
New life arises from within
We sing to you a glorious hymn
Of joy and victory
We have arisen from the dead
And follow you who died and bled
And rose victoriously and said
No more slavery
Come now my children, come and see
You once were chained but now are free
Free to live and reign with me
Its time to wield the sword
Its the final day, the final hour
Rain down thy presence, a glorious shower
Its not by might nor any power
But by My Spirit says the Lord
poem by Frank McEleny
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Will The Circle Be Unbroken
(ada ruth habershon)
I was standing by my window
On one cold and cloudy day
I saw the hearse come a-rolling
For it carried my mother away
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by lord, by and by?
Theres a better home awaiting
In the sky lord, in the sky
Well I call out undertaker
Undertaker, please drive slow
For this body you are holding
Lord I hate to see her go
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by lord, by and by?
Theres a better home awaiting
In the sky lord, in the sky
I will follow close beside her
Try to hold on and be brave
But I could not hide my sorrow
When they laid her in the grave
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by lord, by and by?
Theres a better home awaiting
In the sky lord, in the sky
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by lord, by and by?
Theres a better home awaiting
In the sky lord, in the sky
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by lord, by and by?
Theres a better home awaiting
In the sky lord, in the sky
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by lord, by and by?
Theres a better home awaiting
In the sky lord, in the sky
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by lord, by and by?
Theres a better home awaiting
In the sky lord, in the sky
In the sky lord, in the sky
In the sky lord,
In the sky lord,
In the sky!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Is Here And Death Is There
I.
Death is here and death is there,
Death is busy everywhere,
All around, within, beneath,
Above is death—and we are death.
II.
Death has set his mark and seal
On all we are and all we feel,
On all we know and all we fear,
...
III.
First our pleasures die—and then
Our hopes, and then our fears—and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust—and we die too.
IV.
All things that we love and cherish,
Like ourselves must fade and perish;
Such is our rude mortal lot--
Love itself would, did they not.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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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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Always someone worse
There are times we feel,
like giving up,
empty, drawn out,
life not worth living,
abused, beaten, raped,
nelected, pushed away,
not loved, not wanted,
you can't run away from your problems,
because, where ever you go,
you have to take you with you,
theres a new tomorrow,
things brighter,
happy times will come,
Always someone worse
I was sad cause i had not shoes,
until i saw someone with no feet.
Always someone worse
I was unhappy because i had,
verry little to eat, until
someone i saw with no food to eat,
so remember, no matter how,
bad it is,
Always someone worse
With a new year almost here,
things will be better,
than before, so have,
hope, faith, march on,
into the new year, trusting,
good things, the new year,
will bring.
wrote 12-31-06
I'm stuck in the past
For so long we were friends,
we were family.
What happened,
we were no more.
Why must things change,
for the worse.
Many memories I have,
we had fun.
But what changed,
we are no longer the same.
Why must things change,
for the worse.
Many laughs we shared,
we went places.
What happened,
now you hate me.
Why must things change?
Why do things change?
Why do we dwell on the past?
Why cant we move on?
Why must things change?
poem by Nathaniel DeMay
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Death without purpose
death for me I must embrace,
death for me, is a OK place,
For death waits for me with open arms,
For I have dealt death,
Death is now being dealt to me,
For I thought I had a Angel,
A savior,
The person who pick me up and gave me purpose,
A love I had thought I never imagined,
Now this is gone if you could only imagine,
You had my soul, now my soul is gone,
Who am I with out you? With out my soul?
With out you making me hole,
Now death is awaiting me with a smile,
No purpose, no love, no soul,
Life and death, death and life,
they stand side by side in the end,
For now death hands me its hand,
I don’t know who I am,
So death once again offers its hand,
Such a easy offer right at hand,
For its a easy answer,
For all I feel, death does seem the sure deal,
Sorrow, pain, heart ache, purposeless, loveless,
Hate for ones self, for all the things I have done,
This sure seems the answer,
Death looks at me with a glean in his eye,
He knows I am tempted to take the easy way out,
Is that such a terrible thing to have offered?
Do be tempted to take?
What else is there now left for me to take?
What else do I have to be taken now?
If this is the choice I make,
Don’t mourn for me for its to late,
Don t show me sympathy I have to shake,
Just let me go,
I choose this, not you, not your blame
Take my soul,
It is your, once always, and forever,
When the going gets rough,
Remember what I stood for,
For I can not stand for myself,
I can not take the this feeling I have inside,
I'm lost with out you by my side.
Will I be judged for the things I have done?
The sins I have committed?
Well in the end it really doesn't matter, now does it?
Now death is waiting patiently by my side,
Now as I lye here awake with a gentle shake,
I know what it is to have death on my side,
So now I say goodbye,
Death is taking me for a ride,
poem by John Pollock
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For Death
Death is
Not a danger...
Death is
Good silince...
Death is
Not a fear...
Death is peace...
Death is
Not for cry...
Death is
Only at happy..
Death is
Not distup for
All... all...
why...!
Death is
Simply with out
Breath...
For others
Not for relatons
And dead body's...
At same time
Death is one of
Birth...
O...soory for sins...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. September
FEAST OF ST. PARTRIDGE
The only saint in all our calendar
Is good St. Partridge. 'Tis his feast to--day,
The happiest day of all a happy year,
And heralded as never yet was May.
The dawn has found us marshalled for the fray,
Striding the close--shorn stubbles ranked in line,
With lust of battle and with lust of play
Made glorious drunk as men are drunk with wine.
There go the coveys, forward birds and strong,
Bound for the mangold where they wheel and stop.
Now, steady, men, and bring the left along.
A fortune waits us in each turnip--top.
With a wild shriek, and then a whirr of wings,
The covey rises. Brace and brace they drop,
Joining the dead ranks of forgotten things
In glorious death, the fierce delight of kings.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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