Death
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone --
Man has created death.
poem by William Butler Yeats from The Winding Stair and Other Poems (1933)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Death
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone --
Man has created death.
poem by William Butler Yeats from The Winding Stair and Other Poems (1933)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Nor dread nor hope attend a dying animal; a man awaits his end dreading and hoping all.
quote by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Stone I died
A stone I died and rose again a plant;
A plant I died and rose an animal;
I died an animal and was born a man.
Why should I fear? What have I lost by death?
Why Did Death Take You Away?
This year marked the anniversary of your death.
When you first died I couldn't take a breath.
I can't believe you've been gone so long.
It's sad you died at twenty-nine, you were wronged.
I know death is part of life's grand design.
We mourned your death for oh so long, we still morn to this day, but we're resigned.
Death is part of lives great design.
Many think death is divine or of God's design.
So, even though death took you away.
Our love for you is always here to stay.
I still ask; Why did death take you away?
Maybe the answer to that question will never go away.
*This poem is a tribute to my little sister, Tchinina. She died on May 2,2003 at the age of 29.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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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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Oh Mr Yeats
Oh Yeats you wrote of this terrible beauty
And in your great poem you glorified death
But it's been proved that even suicide cases
At their last moment will struggle for breath.
How can you serve your Country by dying for it?
To me that's just a heroic suicide
Perhaps Ireland's greatest was Daniel O Connell
And it was of natural causes that he died.
Those men who led the nineteen sixteen rising
Were brave that from them can't be took away
They died because they fought for love of Ireland
But life for love too big a price to pay.
And tell me what is fame and what is glory?
So many people only live for fame
In hope that after death they'll be remembered
And that others will pay homage to their name.
Oh Mr Yeats you said in death there's beauty
But I cannot agree with what you've said
I would take wealth and fame whilst I'm still living
For such will be useless to me when I'm dead.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Disarming
Confronting death, they meditate
in charnel grounds and other scary sites,
Tibetan yogis facing fate
of death, which they allow to claim its rights
and undermine their great elation,
rendered harmless as they now invite
to join them in their meditation
death, which they deprive of sting and bite.
More than Judeo-Christians re-
alistic, they don’t choose to rage about
the dying of the light, and see
within death’s darkness no cause for them to doubt
that death is no less part of life
than feet and hands are part of legs and arms,
while seeing it no cause of strife,
but part of life that it in peace disarms.
poem by Gershon Hepner
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A Rose To Remember....
i am reading about the death of a rose
i am reflecting about
death of freedom
it is all about a rose, a wilting rose, a brown rose,
a dry rose
each petal falling softly on the ground
a dry ground full of sand and pebbles
all footprints covered
abandoned, i am talking
about the death of a rose, the death of the freedom of the rose
the death of freedom, the rose of death, the freedom of death,
is it you now that i talk about? that i must remember?
have i met you before when i was but a thorn, a worm, a leaf?
was i the sand
a pebble, the wind? will you be a rose forever?
is there death in you?
i feel the wind, i smell the rose,
there is no death....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grandma
When you died
it was as if I lost,
my whole family.
All other relations,
but my mother
and brother faded
away into oblivion,
at your grave, Grandmamma.
Maybe it was that you
was the only one of them,
that really cared for me
and that they valued things
above and beyond integrity.
At times destiny strikes the clock
and death takes her own,
but I was far away at University
and although our relationship
was great and special
there was no last goodbye.
Every one but I,
got a last blessing from you
and still I wonder
what your last words
would have been.
At times I wonder
if you would smile,
at the mistakes that I make
and at times
be proud to know my name.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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The Eyes Of Death
I have stared into the eyes of death with my own
It is hard to see death eye to eye, face to face
Many times death leaves a cold darkness
Other times death leaves a bright light
There are many who may welcome death
They are ready to meet their maker face to face
Others attempt death by their own hand
For whatever reason I can see the torment in their eyes
I have stared into the eyes od death only to see darkness
It has been my own death that I have seen
Many times by my own hand
Others by the hand of others I have seen my death in their eyes
Whatever death is my fate let me face it
Eye to eye as I have seen others no regrets
Even though I would be dead
Let others see that I have made peace with my maker and others
poem by Robin Conley
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Angel Of Death
Words and music by hank williams, sr.
Capo: 2nd fret key: e play: d
In the [d] great book of john - you're [g] warned of the [d] day
When you'll be laid - beneath the cold [a7] clay
The [g] angel of [d] death - will [g] come from the [d] sky
And claim your poor soul - when the [a7] time comes to [d] die.
Chorus
When the angel of death - comes [g] down after [d] you
Can you smile and say - that you have been [a7] true
Can you [g] truthfully [d] say - with [g] your dying [d] breath
That you're ready to meet - the [a7] angel of [d] death.
When the [d] lights all grow dim - and the [g] dark shadows [d] creep
And then your loved ones - are gathered to [a7] weep
Can you [g] face them and [d] say - with [g] your dying [d] breath
That you're ready to meet - the [a7] angel of [d] death.
Chorus
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayer of a prisoner in a extermination camp
Maybe I will never see you, Jerusalem,
still I yearn to walk in your streets,
at times I have hope,
at other times my heart tightens,
when I see every face, hear every voice
of them that have got to die and I am forced
to strip my own people from all dignity
to help destroy them, to breath in their fear of death.
In how many extermination camps their are people like me,
who lead their own people to the valley of death,
who themselves yearn for their own certain destruction
have to undress corpses
trying to stay alive crying, vomiting,
are praying to You, are waiting day upon day for salvation?
poem by Gert Strydom
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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
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Death of death
Death died death
A tragic death of unusual death
Cemetery moaned, howled and wept alone
Its tears all over the ground
Death! Its sole hunter and soul provider
Graveyard's convulsion of shame
As if death was new
Death was old had to die too
Nothing last forever
There was nothing new
Clouds gathered but never rained
No rain wanted to clean the blood on death
The unusual act of death
Even birds of the feather fights each other
Death died, all were dazed for death of death
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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To Meet Again
Your mother died
a peaceful death
no heart attack
no fight
for breath
no death rattle
into the night
just a sudden
departure
like a switched out light
all her long life
concluding in this
a gentle going
death's soft kiss
a daughter
at her mother's
bedside
holding her hand
her dementia
needed Teddy
held there
at the end
your mother
died suddenly
to an unexpected
sleep and rest
all worries
and anxieties
gone away
all hoping
and believing
to meet again
some day.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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I died a mineral, and became a plant. I died a plant and rose an animal. I died an animal and I was man. Why should I fear When was I less by dying
Night Close
Under night close
Death rose to greet me.
I turned; looked back,
Though nothing beckoned -
No one cried or mourned.
Scorned by all
- My fellow race -
I shed the byes to empty space, then
Gazed upon the stony face
Of Death anon, and
So chose our treaty.
Line of Death
death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Breath of Death
Death is not death-
It is life without breath.
Life on earth is life that is blind-
Blinded by stress and the curse of time…
True life is life that remains untied,
Pure life is life that has honor and pride.
The cold breathe of death actually guilds-
It guilds to a place where darkness subsides…
Passed the shadow a secluded warmth is seen,
Benevolence and compassion becomes pristine.
Yes, this death is death indeed
A death of pain and an unheard plead.
However death is not death-
Only life without breath.
poem by Brad Lomeli
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