Mummy Wheat
LAID close to Death, these many thousand years,
In this small seed Life hid herself and smiled;
So well she hid, Death was at least beguiled,
Set free the grain--and lo! the sevenfold ears!
Warmed by the sun, wooed by the wind's soft word,
Under blue canopy they hold their state:
For this, ah, was it not worth while to wait
Through all the centuries of hope deferred?
What could they know who laid the seed with Death
Of this Divine fruition fixed and planned?
Love--since Life parts us--lend my hand your hand
And look with me into the eyes of faith.
For here between your hand and mine there lies
A little seed we trust to Death to keep
Through unimagined centuries of sleep
Until the day when Life shall bid it rise.
Our harvest waits us. Who knows where or how,
What worlds away, wrapped in what coil of pain?
But Life shall bid us pluck gold sevenfold grain
Grown from the love she bids us bury now.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walk This Earth With Your Hands In Mine
Don't ever let go,
Don't ever give in!
Hold me close,
Hold me tight,
Hold me every day,
Hold me ever night,
Tickle me,
Squeeze me,
Cuddle with me,
Love me forever,
Love me always,
Take my hand in marriage, and life,
Take my hand in barring our children,
Take my hand in Good and bad times,
Take my hand in sickness, health, and death,
Take my hand in Heaven,
Take my hand for all eternity!
You will always be my goddess,
You will always be the hottest,
You will always be my sweet heart,
You will always be my baby!
I sware by the moon and the sun!
earth and the sky!
Heaven and hell!
That I will always love you!
I will never let go!
I will never give in!
I will hold you when you cry!
I will hold you through the good and bad!
I will hold you in sickness, health, and death,
I will take your hand in marrige and life,
I will take your hand while baring our children,
I will take your hand in heaven,
I will take your hand for all eternity!
Take my hand Through the journey of love!
And I'll be right by your side holding your hand through it all!
I promise!
poem by Jacob Gifford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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,
The Floor is cover with clouds of gold,
An eternal joy that never grows old,
They wait for you to come alive,
Trumpets waiting for you to arrive,
Sitting there is the humble Lord,
Guarding the gates with his shield and sword,
All your loved ones and all you've known,
How can this love even be shown,
Reach out your heart and give him your hand,
There is nothing to fear so please understand,
He knows you believe but now you must try,
You must understand that to live you must die,
Yes, this death is death indeed,
A death of pain and an unheard plead.,
However this death is truly not death,
Only new life that lives without breath.
poem by Bradley Lomeli
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death is when....
Death is when my loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain in my heart
Death is this feeling of permanent sadness and pain
Death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is the call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is the lesson i need to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is this unhappy feeling i have
Death is pleasant on my behalf
Death is the day i end my life
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is happiness to the world around me
Death started when i gained my life
Death can be helped along with this knife
Death is where i shall go
Death is close, i kno
Death willl come fast
Death is vast
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
Death is joy to me
Death has come for me
Death is gonna take me
Death will stop my misery
Death loves my company
Death ends the pain
Death takes me on that train
Death is near
Death is finally here
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
DEATH
You need to die to know how it feels right?
But I disagree
what's worst then death you ask?
Is being dead while you breath
don't ever ask who killed me
It was I, who murdered me
Never trying to go back to life
no need for furthering...
DEATH
you can't escape it
even tho it isn't your intention
silently they all whisper
but they always fail to mention
what they see
cuz they're afraid
of what they don't understand
life and death
together; hand in hand
DEATH
how did I end up this way
you're wondering the same aren't you
seeing, never feeling
miserable - horrible
all that's left is this corps
that's all they'll ever see
is this death that's in my eyes
beautiful misery
poem by Vanessa Mercado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Experience
I.
LIKE Crusoe with the bootless gold we stand
Upon the desert verge of death, and say:
'What shall avail the woes of yesterday
To buy to-morrow's wisdom, in the land
Whose currency is strange unto our hand?
In life's small market they have served to pay
Some late-found rapture, could we but delay
Till Time hath matched our means to our demand.'
But otherwise Fate wills it, for, behold,
Our gathered strength of individual pain,
When Time's long alchemy hath made it gold,
Dies with us - hoarded all these years in vain,
Since those that might be heir to it the mould
Renew, and coin themselves new griefs again.
II.
O, Death, we come full-handed to thy gate,
Rich with strange burden of the mingled years,
Gains and renunciations, mirth and tears,
And love's oblivion, and remembering hate,
Nor know we what compulsion laid such freight
Upon our souls - and shall our hopes and fears
Buy nothing of thee, Death? Behold our wares,
And sell us the one joy for which we wait.
Had we lived longer, life had such for sale,
With the last coin of sorrow purchased cheap,
But now we stand before thy shadowy pale,
And all our longings lie within thy keep -
Death, can it be the years shall naught avail?
'Not so,' Death answered, 'they shall purchase sleep.'
poem by Edith Wharton
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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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The Seed
In the spring
when the air has warmed.
I
planted a seed
a tiny seed.
I
along with my faith
to Mother Earth entrusted it.
I
hoped she would
nourish and coax the blossom
hidden within that seed so small.
To
spring forth in the summertime
with
its beauty its fragrance.
That all may behold and enjoy.
Until
autumn time
when back it returns
to a seed to sleep
to wait.
To be reborn.
poem by Kurt Hearth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.
poem by Ariel Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Is My Companion
(4/3/12)
Where do we go from here? When death is very near.
Is there another plateau we must climb
Before we reach the end of the line.
Death is just a resting place - a rest stop if you must!
You will not be afraid if in GOD you put your trust.
Death is my companion - he holds my hand
Death is my companion - he understands.
Known as the angel of death, the grim reaper
Of this temporary life he is the keeper.
In his clutches you'll be for a short spell
Till they decide if you're going to heaven or hell.
This is a rest stop where you take a break
Till they decide what is your fate.
So while I am on this plateau
There is no where that I will go.
Where do we go from here?
Your guess is as good as mine
As long as I'm not here until the ends of time.
This must be purgatory that I hear so much about
Maybe this is where we can turn our lives about.
Death! I know you're my companion
And we have walked hand in hand
But there is something I think you should understand
There are things on this earth that I must do
And until I finish them, my life on earth is not through.
I put my faith in GOD that he will show me the way
And from that road, I know I will not stray.
poem by Louis Rams
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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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Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Death
Then Almitra spoke, saying, 'We would ask now of Death.'
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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The Holy Virgin
The Holy Virgin
The time has…has come the time of death,
The death of my life, death of my breath,
Death of all but one…death of one but all,
Yet into the void for death I shall call.
It is near but death itself is nearer,
For all those who shall not be cheerer,
Death was the love I called upon into the world,
It was love that trembled as my death built a new world.
A new world with one less,
A new world with a greater mess,
For death of one is death of all,
Still into the void, My love for death I shall call.
‘Cause there is none like death
And none like death can take my breath.
For I was me and me alone,
And I was mine and mine own.
‘Cause there is none like me-
None as different…and not one so free.
Death was all I had ever known,
From when I as a seed into the earth was sown,
To the skies I reached out yet grew not,
Higher than all I was yet was so merely short.
I knew not what I wanted,
But I knew that what I was gifted,
But I knew not what I had to do,
But I knew very well what to do.
Behind bars I had threw mine soul and heart,
But not my mind which was my delicate art,
‘Cause that was all I had,
It was merry yet sad,
‘Cause I was far from all, I severed myself,
Yet my love was not for myself,
Unfathomable was my love for love,
Yet I hid it all up in a cove.
But I did what I did,
For I was me and not some other silly did.
I told them not when they told I was wrong;
When they told I was bad I told I was wrong,
For I knew my action,
Yet lost was the proper reaction.
Sins were mine, sins to all,
Sins were mine but mine sins not all.
Robbed by death I was of all but one,
One was my mind- the special one.
For my mind was mine and mine alone,
Amidst all it sparkled and shone,
For death touched it not as what it was it knew not,
Yet of that it never forgot,
For it was the only that was beleft,
When death made love to earth and none was left,
Because when all was gone,
Left was the different one,
When gone was the origin,
Left behind was my mind – The Holy Virgin.
JamesGreen…
poem by James Green
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death ----- A New Life
Attacks --- Accentuates ---- Appall ---
Battles --- Bemuses ----- Bemoans --
Maims ---- Marred ----- Wastes ---
Dismembers -- Mangles ----- Devastates ---
Cold ----- Icy ------ Snow ----
Death the emperor of all truths---
Destructs the present consumed, consummate life
And grants a new life
Hence death the inevitable light-
The Destroyer and the Preserver---
The seed of a new life
Whose potential tree would be the taking body itself
Thus death isn't a death at all
But a new life.
Note: The process of death is described as it attacks, maims and finally devastates. It is a destroyer and a preserver since it endows a new life, killing the present one. Hence death isn't a death at all but a new life altogether.
poem by Green Peace
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Life Or Death
what is life without death
what is death without life
people comes from the big blue sky
people fly up high when they die
their familys start to cry
life is cold
to the bold
want to turn in to gold
but life is getting old
death is black
like a black cat
hard to know when death is coming
but death is coming
so live your life to the fullest
and to the goodest
cause soon death will knocking at your door
so you would just be laying in your death bed
with nothing to say
with one thing in your head
is this LIFE or DEATH
poem by Demarcus Walker
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A Song For The Irish Militia
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in prostrate men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the crop so bravely sown!
No more I'll sing nor idly pine,
But train my soul to lead a line
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
No foe would fear your thunder words,
If 'twere not for your lightning swords
If tyrants yield when millions pray,
'Tis less they link in war array;
Nor peace itself is safe, but when
The sword is sheathed by fighting men
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The rifle brown and sabre bright
Can freely speak and nobly write
What prophets preached the truth so well
As HOFER, BRIAN, BRUCE, and TELL?
God guard the creed these heroes taught-
That blood-bought Freedom's cheaply bought
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
Then, welcome be the bivouac,
The hardy stand, and fierce attack,
Where pikes will tame their carbineers,
And rifles thin their bay'neteers,
And every field the island through
Will show 'what Irishmen can do! '
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death so Ireland's free!
Yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel
Alone can make the English reel;
But wisdom, working day by day,
Till comes the time for passion's sway
The patient dint and powder shock,
Can blast an empire like a rock.
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in slavish men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the harvest when 'tis grown.
No more I'll sing, no more I'll pine,
But train my soul to lead a line
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free.
poem by Thomas Davis
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 XXVII
Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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