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Death is a displaced name for a linguistic predicament.

quote by Paul de Man
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life is a predicament which precedes death.

quote by Henry James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What was she doing, there?

What was she doing, there?
Like some old bag lady.
Another displaced foreigner...
Sitting in Piccadilly, gardens
Manchester, today...
“With a toy pram
and 2 clothed dollies”
“One dressed in green,
a much larger in reddish brown”.
Simply put on the fountains cobbles...
Dressed in these old linens
Her dollies lying face down.
How odd? No one is looking...?
Not one sees the child’s pram.
Only big enough for a small, cat.
How odd these two babies,
look—displaced on the ground.
One displaced to her left.
Another to her right…
It’s the 9th of October—2011
the time tomorrows date 10.10am
on a grey, wet Sunday, morning.
And, her presence questions me?
Quietly, disturbs me.
Before I catch my 101 bus…
Lord what is real…?
What is sequential in a world of madness…?

poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sometimes I think all my pictures are just pictures of me. My concern is... the human predicament; only what I consider the human predicament may simply be my own.

quote by Richard Avedon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Death Dies Again

It was death himself
at my swords tip
shocked at his predicament
unaccustomed as he was
to insouciance
and unfamiliar he was
with his own impending ending.

How do you tell Death that
his own death comes?

He said.
'How am I to meet
alls end this way
when I am the very symbol
of the terminus;
the end for all and the other many? '

'Tell me how I am come to this end;
the irony of my own dead death
now near? '

'Death must die' I said
as life itself begins'

'Its not so mysterious Death
to understand.
You are not the end but
my own beginning
and I am life's insistence at the beginning;
that coming to the fore
youth moving to sure
and steady borning.

'That is the cycle of all things, '
I said.
'You die death;
not a sad departing
but my own new beginning.

'How sad' Death said
'I understand your glib reckoning
but my death to me is personal
and while the Great Cycle
to you is mesmerizing
for me it is my fully sensed ending.

Endings are personal and while
loves I've known
have found new loves
it has not
and did not
obliterate
old love's ending.
And that is I.

Old loves die
and their death
is not erased
by new love's
beginning;
they fade
away amid the sad
sighings
we hear at night
when alone
in our beds

in the dark
crying.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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Flotsam

After the First World War
there floated a sea of stateless people
who drifted from border to border,
flotsam of the war, each reaching out
to find somewhere to call their own;
displaced by everyone as they tried
to adopt a homeland,
a place they could call their own.
Etched on each face was the agony
they felt being turned away
everywhere they went.
This flotsam of war.

10 November 2010

Author’s Note:
It is hard to believe that millions of people were displaced and wandered the borders of Europe for years after the First World War. However, it is true and history does record it.

DVH
November 2010

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Logic and mathematics are nothing but specialised linguistic structures.

quote by Jean Piaget
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Punishment

There never really was a place of sanctity
For you, the mortal entity.
You thought you had prosperity,
The while you thrived and were.

Angels don't exist, you see.
You lived without a guarantee
Atop your brutal Earth.
Still, you had a birth.

And whither now, your crying whim -?
Answered by a tearing limb-?
Are you contrite; your valour slim?

And will He care...?

'Tis down to Him.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter,2009

Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
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Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death, My Friend

Death, my friend - so good to see you!
Stand aloft and view my soul!
I have to say you’re looking frightful -
Bony chum, you affable ghoul.

Death, my friend, so charmed I’m sure!
State your case and tell me straight -
Am I worthy of reward, so
Venture I to Heaven’s Gate?

Death, my friend, a new acquaintance!
You're always welcome in my home -
Though the stare from empty sockets
Indicates to Hell we roam!

Death, my friend - my bosom buddy.
My! your finger points at me!
Be you tired of my frivolity?
Aha, I see - Oblivion, we!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

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Death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A new era in the physiological investigation of linguistic sounds was opened up by X-ray photography.

quote by Roman Jakobson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death, Death And Death

I see the death everyday
Death in relations
Death in religion and faith
Death of man in man
Everyday, everywhere, every moment
Death, death and death.

I experience the death around me
Millions and billions of ceremonies
The smoke on maps of mankind
Death in temple and streets
Death in clubs and parties
Death, death and death.

I foresee the death of humanity
Harassment, discrimination and hatred
Death in purity and sacredness
Death in broken mirrors and home
Death in king, death in masses
Death, death and death.

poem by Abhimanyu Kumar.s
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every linguistic sign is located on two axes: the axis of simultaneity and that of succession.

quote by Roman Jakobson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death’s Too Near

Death, you’re standing rather near!
Don’t you understand the fear
You trigger deep within my soul–?
The terror sprung by such a ghoul
Of dark and hideous hue!

Now you’re rattling on my door!
I’m sure I threw you out before –
Methinks you really need to learn!
So leg it please and ne’er return
To haunt me ‘gain, now shoo!

Gain a sense of social pride, and
Keep your bearing far and wide –
Perform the deed when I am done –
Be free and loose to have your fun
When I’m too frail to turn and run,
But now I’ve living to do!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death
Death, death, nearing death
Death, death, death
Death, death
Death
Death, death
Death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Intended to serve as an introduction to both the linguistic and also the practical study of spoken English.

quote by Henry Sweet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Comparison?

The displaced years
cling
to your body
like an extended death.
I wanted to see
what could not be seen
by clutching.
the lifeless doubts.

Emotions play:
potentials are threatened.
Remaining alert becomes a
punishment. I grieve for the dementia,
the night yawns. The walking trees
start swapping the roots. Folds of sorrow
whisper of morality.

The apocalyptic prophecy wants to know:
“Have you ever seen the hell? ”

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Linguistic sounds, considered as external, physical phenomena have two aspects, the motor and the acoustic.

quote by Roman Jakobson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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