Related quotes: It is snowing and death...

Oh

It is snowing and death bugs me
as stubborn as insomnia.
The fierce bubbles of chalk,
the little white lesions
settle on the street outside.
It is snowing and the ninety
year old woman who was combing
out her long white wraith hair
is gone, embalmed even now,
even tonight her arms are smooth
muskets at her side and nothing
issues from her but her last word - 'Oh.' Surprised by death.

It is snowing. Paper spots
are falling from the punch.
Hello? Mrs. Death is here!
She suffers according to the digits
of my hate. I hear the filaments
of alabaster. I would lie down
with them and lift my madness
off like a wig. I would lie
outside in a room of wool
and let the snow cover me.
Paris white or flake white
or argentine, all in the washbasin
of my mouth, calling, 'Oh.'
I am empty. I am witless.
Death is here. There is no
other settlement. Snow!
See the mark, the pock, the pock!

Meanwhile you pour tea
with your handsome gentle hands.
Then you deliberately take your
forefinger and point it at my temple,
saying, 'You suicide bitch!
I'd like to take a corkscrew
and screw out all your brains
and you'd never be back ever.'
And I close my eyes over the steaming
tea and see God opening His teeth.
'Oh.' He says.
I see the child in me writing, 'Oh.'
Oh, my dear, not why.

poem by Anne Sexton
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A Dot On White Sheet!

Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!

Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!

Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Snow White Transparent

“Mirror… Mirror…”

Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew

“This is what you want”

Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White

“Mirror… Mirror…”

A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left

“On the wall…”

He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips

“Snow…? ”

Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is

“Seven little men…”

She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:

“Who is fairest of them all? ”

poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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.

D eath Crawl

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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.

The March of Death

Death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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…'

The Reign of Death

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Death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Snow

See the snow
Its a blanket, soft and white
Falling slow
Covering the world, making it bright

Hear the snow
Crunching underneath feet
Children throw
The snow in the street

Smell the snow
The freshening scent
As the steady flow
Makes my heart content

Feel the snow
Powdery, it freezes your toes
As the blanket starts to grow
And the cold wind blows

Taste the snow
The way it makes the world look clean
Still cold though,
Makes the world, a beautiful scene

Love the snow
When I see it snowing all day
I just know
That everything is going to be okay

poem by Katniss Everdeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanks For Christmas

Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the love and happiness thats snowing down,
All around.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the winter friendliness thats snowing down,
All around the world.
Its nearer,
Childrens eyes shine clearer now,
As they decorate the trees,
All across the seven seas.
Its nearer,
Yule log fires burn clearer now,
In the winters frosty air,
Sing with us and we can share our...
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the love and happiness thats snowing down,
All around.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the winter friendliness thats snowing down,
All around the world.
Its dawning,
Santas reindeer yawning now,
All their festive work is done,
Filling houses up with fun.
Its dawning,
Here is christmas morning now,
Greatest day of all the year,
Listen out and you will hear our...
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the love and happiness thats snowing down,
All around.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the winter friendliness thats snowing down,
All around the world.
Its such a shame its only one day every year,
Three hundred and sixty-four days full of doubts and fear
Youve been saving your love up,
Let it out,
cause christmas is here.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the love and happiness thats snowing down,
All around.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the winter friendliness thats snowing down,
All around the world.

song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It’s Snowing Again

It’s snowing again
This winter morning
Silver threads grain
Of icily yearning

Day in cold light
Giving their frost
In February flight
Where silences crossed

In white pearls
And glistening doubt
Silver corns hurls
The ground about

The playfully breeze
Scattering glow
All that accompanies
Winter cold snow

Outside’s snowing
From falling sky
Freshly air flowing
Gather and lie

Day is like new
From yesterday old
As thoughts come thru
In words untold

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Her Bliss

Death is in the flower's heart –
Why to cry for life of any petal?

Death in purple ink of weary pens
Betrays the written yearnings
On her scented paper.

Death is laughing in her cry;
Her broken heart forlorn upon the sleeve.

Death ignores the plight of any purity –
He doesn’t care or seem to be aware of
What her dewy eye desires,
For Death beckoned:

'Embrace the jar! '
And yes, she did –
For Death, of course.

After all, no other man would
Open up her hand and bid her with a kiss,
So Death became her bliss.

suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
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suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Absences

It's snowing this afternoon and there are no flowers.
There is only this sound of falling, quiet and remote,
Like the memory of scales descending the white keys
Of a childhood piano--outside the window, palms!
And the heavy head of the cereus, inclining,
Soon to let down its white or yellow-white.

Now, only these poor snow-flowers in a heap,
Like the memory of a white dress cast down . . .
So much has fallen.
&n bsp; &nb sp; & nbsp; And I, who have listened for a step
All afternoon, hear it now, but already falling away,
Already in memory. And the terrible scales descending
On the silent piano; the snow; and the absent flowers abounding.

poem by Donald Justice
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i Saw a Woman

i saw a woman
Dancing on her grave
She smiled and sang
La la lee
La la lo
La la lee
La la lo

She picked up Death's cat
By tail & twirled the thing
La la lee
La la lo

Death watched curriously
How this thing could be
La la lee
He scratched his head
La la lo

The woman looked back at Death
And flipped him off
Her skeleton bones
Were white as snow
Now her dance
Was beginning to slow

Death thought now
Was her time to go

Instead
She skinned the cat
And made a dress
Put it on
And picked up her song
La la lee

Death's eyes popped out
At what he saw next
The woman's bones
Grew new flesh

Her hair combed and tapered in curls
Death ran at her with fury
But tripped along
An old tomebstone
La la lo

Death on the ground
She picked up her dance
And danced on Death

Bone by bone
She trampled him in the ground

The last thing he saw
Was the woman's child
And he sang and danced
La la lee
Along with a whole
Party of bones
La la lo

poem by Deci Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Comedy

I waz whitemailed
By a white witch,
Wid white magic
An white lies,
Branded by a white sheep
I slaved as a whitesmith
Near a white spot
Where I suffered whitewater fever.
Whitelisted as a whiteleg
I waz in de white book
As a master of white art,
It waz like white death.

People called me white jack
Some hailed me as a white wog,
So I joined de white watch
Trained as a white guard
Lived off the white economy.
Caught and beaten by de whiteshirts
I waz condemned to a white mass,
Don't worry,
I shall be writing to de Black House.

poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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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

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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.’

Death
Death death
Death death death
Death death death death
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Death death
Death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sinner's Visit from Death

Whence the reek, the sombre clouds?
Those of billows gargantuan;
Of storms immense, blushing black,
Wishing sought of me to assess?

And have I passed? I have?
Hence I hear a knock on oak;
Unwelcomed, dullened cloak
Flowing dourly - it was a bitter breeze.

‘Have you mulled my sins? ' I ask.
‘Have you seen my impotence -
Though observe destruction at mine hands?
Forgive me, I am but Man.'

‘And are not sinners forgiven? ' I excuse,
‘Hence forgiveness avoids me of Hell?
Must my Demons of Sin revisit eternally
And reflect back on me to suffer well

The synergy of vengeance and wrath?
Are you not now pitying of my terror?
See my withering, regretful flesh -
Feel you not my tardy repentance? '

But Death just focused his stare,
That which pierced my pulseless heart,
For I was empty of remorse in all my years.
He knew that - and led me away.

Death death death
Death death death death death
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Death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Edelweiss

THERE grows a white, white flower
By the wild Alps of romance;
And who would reach its dainty leaves
Takes life and death in chance.

There is a dark, dark cavern
Where a woman goes alone,
Takes hope and peril in her hand
And fights Death on his throne.

To our heart’s breathless calling
She comes from the cavern wild,
Holding in her exhausted arms
A small, white, blossoming child.

poem by Frank Wilmot
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow

Down out of heaven,
Frost-kissed
And wind driven,
Flake upon flake,
Over forest and lake,
Cometh the snow.

Folding the forest,
Folding the farms,
In a mantle of white;
And the river’s great arms,
Kissed by the chill night
From clamor to rest,
Lie all white and shrouded
Upon the world’s breast.

Falling so slowly
Down from above,
So white, hushed, and holy,
Folding the city
Like the great pity
Of God in His love; 20
Sent down out of heaven
On its sorrow and crime,
Blotting them, folding them
Under its rime.

Fluttering, rustling,
Soft as a breath,
The whisper of leaves,
The low pinions of death,
Or the voice of the dawning,
When day has its birth,
Is the music of silence
It makes to the earth.

Thus down out of heaven,
Frost-kissed
And wind driven,
Flake upon flake,
Over forest and lake,
Cometh the snow.

poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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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!

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Death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Making a Snowman

’Tis snowing in the high mountains
Of great Himalayas:
This winter’s freezing ev’n fountains
Of Poonch, Kargil and Drass!

‘Tis raining flakes of harder snow;
All roads are covered white;
And every tree-top, twig, leaf, bough
Wears a glorious sight!

No blade of grass or bird is seen;
The meadow’s an ice-sheet;
Some Kashmiri children have been
Building a snow-man neat.

Yet, one can hear the booming guns
And smoke billowing up;
While children pile up snow in tons,
Before they go to sup.

With snow in handfuls, they build him:
Belly and head and back;
And soon their snow-man looks quite trim;
Twigs make his hands with knack!

They place a cap on his big head
And make his mouth, nose, eyes;
Their snow-man looks alive, not dead!
Assuming huge a size.

The happy children dance around
The snow-man, they had made;
They sing with joy some rhymes newfound;
Their snow-man looks so great!

Their hearts get filled with joy and thrill,
Seeing their snow-man made;
With snow-balls they play on the hill,
Before snow-man shall fade!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-25-1999

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mark R. Slaughter

Just like the dahlia
Death comes in all its beauty

And so I stroke her petals
Push my feet root-deep
Into the composted soil
As weary clouds unite
Coalesce
Darken through the greys
In preparation

Incontinence prevails
Lachrymose in empathy

They cry for me
Sharing tears
Mortality brings
As twilight closes

I rot
(They fade)

To be the plant
(They'll water)

I, denomination Mark R. Slaughter

Struggle thro' my fantasy
To seal the state of mind

That I of soul
Remain eternal

Back on the windowsill
A daffodil stretches
From a bulbous foot

Flirts like a ballerina

STOPS

Wonders of the world

My cat hears the brassy thoughts
From yellow trumpet
Pricks up his ears
Iridescent eyes
Focussed on the future

I'll wait
For his appraisal

A Trail of Death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Oh

Related quotes

A Dot On White Sheet!

Snow White Transparent

Death and I

Disingenuousness

It's Death Again

The Snow

Thanks For Christmas

It’s Snowing Again

Her Bliss

Absences

i Saw a Woman

White Comedy

Night Close

Death, Inevitable Death

Sinner's Visit from Death

Edelweiss

Snow

Death, My Friend

Making a Snowman

Mark R. Slaughter

En.Citatepedia^®.ro