She Will Tell Me Mine
i walked a thousand miles
before this journey began...
i carried a hundred crosses,
said prayers you cant imagine.
i died death after death,
behind bars and in windows...
before i burned my shoes,
and took off my clothes.
i've seen beauty i cant express,
felt sorrow so deep i drowned.
been both hungry and desperate,
gave away my heart to perfect strangers....
i've named tears and set stars free,
to follow their own desire...
i've held universes in my hands,
and broke the cup countless times.
i looked the devil face to face,
and recognized myself.
i've been to Gethsemene,
Golgatha, and hell....
i've grown flowers on pavement,
wiped the asses of those that groaned.
i've fought windmills and shadows,
and lit the torch a million times.
i've fathered children and given birth,
i've made love in empty churches.
i've been buried in countless libraries,
and beneath infinite trees.
i've been both semen and holy water,
not as much difference as you think!
i've seen the face of god,
and heard her secret name...
and perhaps if i die just one more time,
she will tell me mine!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
These Shoes
These shoes have walked a million miles
with the souls of men
who will never see
the sun rise again.
They walked beside great armies
as they rose to fight
in foreign far away lands.
These shoes saw the birth of nations
near and far
and the death of a child
that touch many hearts dear.
They watched great cities rise
and then crumble to dust.
These shoes that have walked a million miles
and then back again.
Though great have come and gone
these shoes still walk on
looking for life’s freedom be
within the soul of men.
They have observed many great things
on their journey
but the greatest treasure
that they sought
these shoes have yet to find..
12 October 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Hundred Thousand Marching
One hundred thousand marching
One hundred thousand men
One hundred thousand heading
To a place and a time when
One hundred thousand dying
One hundred thousand cold
One hundred thousand praying
Forever young and never old
One hundred thousand lives were lost
One hundred thousand felt the pain
One hundred thousand maimed and slaughtered
And yet those armies march again.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Old Brown Shoes
Look sitting at the bottom of the bed.
A pair of old brown shoes.
I can tell by the soles of those
old brown shoes; that they
have walked many miles,
Furthermore, I can tell by
the scuff marks on the toes
of those old brown shoes;
that they had to kick many
obstacles out of the way of
the owner,
Now, by the fade shine
on those old brown shoes;
I can tell that they were
handled with much love
and care.
Boy! If the tongues on
those old brown shoes;
could talk. I could just
imagine the stories they
would tell.
I know one of the stories
would be of suicide.
Because there above my head.
Hangs the owner; by the laces
of those old brown shoes.
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
Death
Death death
Death death death
Death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death
Death death death
Death death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Separation
If I walk a thousand miles
and have no place to go
my adventure will be worrisome
and all the things I know
will make me want to hesitate
before taking another stride.
For all the places I leave behind
are places where I cried.
But I needed the walk to show me
that escape was not the way.
All I did was travel right along
and at the end of the day
those miles I walked were numbing
and gave me nothing new.
So I walked a thousand more miles
and came back home to you.
My feet were sore. My heart was sore
but then I saw your face.
And all those miles that I walked
never could replace
the familiarity, the same old scene
and how being with you feels.
Time and space can't fix all wounds
but the walking somehow heals.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Epic Poem
This poem is epic
so I named it so
it's more epic than wind and snow
which are in there own respects quite epic
snow could be described as ghetto
and wind can take on epic forms
like a spinning tiger with legs made of iron bars
that would be pretty epic
infact I think that happened in outer mongolia
to a young girl how got hit by the iron bars
sadly she died
but the type of death was one we all wish for
over exposure to pure epicness
like viewing a snail with a lightsaber who flies over mountains made of cheese
that's bleedin' epic
imagine it if you can
can you?
I imagined it so according to the ontological arguement
it exists
im scared now
it may be coming to get me
and although I will suffer the best kind of death
it will be death still
and what is death without life
it is simply death
that was mock epic
those statements aren't as deep as you think they are
they are meerly the ramblings of a crazy man
you fell for it did you not
I know you did for I can see you
your PC moniter is actually a camera
If you're paranoid then you will be scared now
and for that reason I laugh
I can see your fear
I smell it
it is like raspberry ripple ice cream
your fear is wierd
I don't like you anymore
this poem is bleedin' epic!
poem by Torben Duncan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If I Could Walk a Million Miles
If I could walk a million miles where would I begin my journey?
I would probably begin my Journey with a talk With God.
I would ask him why he made my legs unable to walk.
Then after my talk with God I’d walk a few more miles until I came upon my mother.
I stop and ask her is it because of my disability you treated me like I’m not one of your children.
Now after my mother denies that she doesn’t do such a thing; I’d continue my journey of a million miles.
Now at the end of my journey when I have walked a million miles before I rest I hope that while walking
these million miles that in some of the steps I took my footprints left an impression behind.
If I could walk a million miles
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
death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No one cared
No one cared, they just walked on by
and left me all alone to die.
Then looking up I saw You there
Your arms outstretched in loving care.
You saved me from that place of death
settled my debts with Your last breath.
Poured out Yourself and paid the price.
Laid down Your life in sacrifice.
*************
No one cared, they just walked on by
and left You on that cross to die.
'Father forgive' You cried out loud
as there in death Your head was bowed.
I came and saw You hanging there.
My heart was stirred and began to care.
I knew why You were crucified.
‘Twas for my sins You'd bled and died.
Written after reading Luke 10: 30-37
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
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
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The journey...
Death is not the end of lifes adventure
It is merely a confirmation of lifes innocence
In our youth death is one of our darkest fears
With each breath we outrun the spectre of death
But death stalks us at every turn of life
With age comes wisdom and the truth becomes clear
Death is not the end but is just a comma in our journey
It can bring an end to pain and mark a new beginning
For none can halt our return to this mortal coil
Death is merely a moment standing still for all eternity
When we say goodbye to those who share our journey
Just remember this is not the beginning of the end
It is merely the end of the beginning, the journey goes on...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One is All, All is One
I will live a thousand lives.
I will sleep a thousand sleeps.
Though the thousand is really one.
I will dream a thousand dreams.
I will become a thousand people.
Though, the thousand is really one.
One is all and all is one.
Each a part, of the wonder I get to learn.
My journey is a million miles,
Yet to an ant, the same journey is a billion.
What is irrelevant is more relevant than you can imagine.
My life is my creation; it is I, which writes my story.
I pick the characters, I pick the scenes, I pick the outcome.
I could not think outside my own thoughts.
I lived a life with writer's block.
Fearing what is next, as I believe it is an unknown.
Yet, I can make that fear real, if I let it consume me.
If fear is my faith, it is what I will find.
The feeling is real, yet the feared only a thought,
But I make it my reality, then my reality it becomes.
Then the same must be true of love.
So it really is already known.
It is the seed planted.
My garden will produce the harvest of the seeds I plant.
So which will I choose?
Which will I follow?
The will of myself, or the will of my spirit?
The seed of love or fear?
It is all, that is really one and not each.
The journey through my inside,
Is the only way to see outside myself.
It is my inner peace, that determines my outer.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Forever Starts at the End (A Sonnet)
Eternal life will start in my late last.
But who knows death began ere I was born?
A christian needs to die, as it's a must,
Before he could have seen the coming morn.
The day I went out from my mother's womb,
Is just as my death anniversary.
A dead child risen from a woman's tomb,
And breathing dust that lives for vanity.
I'm now alive but died with Him; and then,
Will die to live a life, and will not die
Again of death that doubled-killed the men
Born dead, although, alive, yet passers-by...
The residents of deathless fire where dwell
Those who died dead to die a death in Hell.
poem by Ray Remalig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!