Grieve Not
Grieve not for me that I, have stepped outside the pale.
Man's death is not a void, a thick congeal of night.
The ground whereon I stand, is just beyond the veil;
A firmament of soul, illumined by the Light.
Grieve not for me that, I transcend this human dream,
For I ascend above, the tumult, din and blare.
Come visit my gravesite, as often as you deem,
You'll visit my remains, but I will be elsewhere.
Death is disunion, a spiritual flight, of soul from sense.
(An Alexandrine)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Ain't Gonna Grieve
by Bob Dylan
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Come on brother, join the band,
Come on sisters, clap your hands,
Tell everybody that's in the land,
You ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Brown and blue and white and black,
All one color on the one-way track,
We got this far and ain't a-goin' back
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
We're gonna notify your next of kin,
You're gonna raise the roof until the house falls in.
If you get knocked down get up again,
We ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
We'll sing this song all night long,
Sing it to my baby from midnight on.
She'll sing it to you when I'm dead and gone,
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Invictus
Out of the night that covers me.
Black as the pit from pole to pole.
I thank whatever Gods there be.
For my unconquerable soul
Invictus.
William Ernest Henley 1847-1903.
Out of the night that covers me.
I will emerge into the light.
This dream I follow hopefully.
I know that morning follows night.
Black as the pit from pole to pole.
Though very soon the sun will rise
up to assume his rightful role.
Majestic ruler of the skies.
I thank whatever Gods there be.
That darkness is not permanent.
That we are granted light to see.
The glory of the firmament.
For my unconquerable soul
remains steadfast by day and night.
I know that I will reach my goal.
When death grants me the power of flight.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Pass On
You grieve
for burst body
wilted will
soon rot
forgotten beneath
broken ground?
Do you grieve
for fossil fingernails?
You discarded
flush forgotten
down tidal toilet
after manicure trimming.
Yet once filed painted
with meticulous care.
Do you grieve
for fame styled
fresh cut hair?
Was streaked
washed dried
in salon sequence.
With trendy celebrity
professional tender care.
Before being shaped
trimmed in fashionable style.
Residue now lies
scattered shorn forgotten
guillotined to be swept up
disposed of as shed waste.
Yet you grieve
for carcass carrion
spent in purpose
of hostage housing
an immortal soul.
Central core cannot die.
All must needs
pass on.
To rudiment
regenerated.
Greater housing.
New spiritual embodiment.
Graduating this life
continuous purification
of an immortal soul.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bhakti is different from beauty
Visit Puri; your eyes are on the idol.
Visit Konark; yours on the sculptures.
While with your wife you see her soul.
While with a pimp, you see her flesh.
Spiritual and aesthetic are different.
24.12.2000, [bakthi = devotion to God]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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
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Colouring My World
No need to change my mind - only need
to change my feelings, the light shining
from my eyes colouring my world; in
need of fun, to laugh loud and long
Used to joke about the seven dark nights
of the soul - now I'm living one terribly
long drawn-out night without laughter
in my eyes; where did it all go wrong
Can I win back the fantasies that used to
bolster me making my way through dead
monuments of dried-up documents, I am
bored unto death sitting here
Nothing creative in my day, no-one to share
my sense of the ridiculous, no-one to go out
and play; all oppressed by duty and routine-
please shine the light of fun
Upon me and everyone, this is a form of
spiritual death, physical death would be
so much better - to discover the realms
prophesied by spiritual masters
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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How to Die
Darkness looms
on folded wings
cold and undeniable.
But its flight stalls,
as life rages on.
Red Infection flares
in your pale blood,
your tired heart savaged
by thin assassins.
Should you go now
into Dylan’s good night
where faint stars
call softly to your wasted soul?
Yes
enter
the gentle void
deeply breathe dark waters,
and all your pain will drown
in a sudden flood of
Nothing
No
Your
fi erce soul shrinks
from this gracious night;
You fight for bitter light.
Raw pain is better
than vacuous rest
In death’s stark nest.
poem by Steven Federle
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Your grave
If I could visit your grave
I could have been very much brave
You parted early in surprise
Just breaking holy promise
You sent me away to build future
You wanted me by your side for sure
I was strong enough to sustain any pain
As you were my only main concern
You knew it in advance
You only waited for chance
You had one excuse under disguise
You acted tough but very wise
Had I been by your side at end time?
I could have gone mad sometimes
Torn off all cloths and ran amuck in forest
As you departure was tough endurance test
I hardly came to know your last breath
You were buried deep under ground after death
Made sweet home to sleep and stay away
I could hardly make it in time to reach the way
How could I visit now your grave?
How will gather strength to be brave?
My eyes have gone barren and complete dry
I have no more courage to stand before and cry
All golden pages are written on heart
Our meetings under tree were unique art
We loved to live last moment
Now I can only dream and resent
I miss you love and can stand nowhere
I can come to visit but will it be fair?
People may laugh at your deception
You had parted without according me reception
I would love to be buried along side
I shall lay not far but little wide
I shall express only one wish
"God take me away and finish"
How would I live without her?
Who will solace me and wipe my tears?
I long secretly for last words to hear
I shall just lay on ground with my ears
I shall pick the pulse and sense
Just may know how much you feel tense
I shall love to be known as dead man
Even though technically I am no more to be called human
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Shadowed Life
Winter nights & summer days
A frozen meadow with shallow graves
I sit and grieve on this leather weave
For the great love that once was
We rise and fall like the path of the sun
Six feet up to six feet down
We observe our demise with great surprise
Gone when the sun’s in the west
If we accept death as a better place
And pleasantly live our lives
If in death we move closer to the light
Then why is death a world of shadow
Whether were in a concrete jungle
Or a tree-top city
Life always has an end
And death has no pity
So as I sit and grieve on this leather weave
For all of those who have passed
In a blink I begin to think
That life goes by so fast.
poem by Logan Fulk
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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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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Was It Worth It?
The ground runs red
As the rain falls down
What to do now?
Everything I've known is gone
My old life
Old world
Washed away
Like the burnt remains
Of my childhood house
That I stand before
Do the means justify the end?
I can't help but ask
Was it worth it?
All the battle fields
Where the smell
Of death and gunpowder and blood
Still permeate the very air
Children grieve with their mothers
Who have all lost husbands and fathers
Uniforms made of grey
Lie battered and torn on the ground
All this pain and sacrifice
To win a losing war
Was it worth it?
poem by Autumn Winds
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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
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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…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Learning to Die
Death is not sudden, death does not grieve,
Death takes a while to achieve.
Death comes in layers;
Death is the mouse
From under the couch
At three am, and from under the stairs.
Death is the tumour on my mother’s skin,
Death is a jackhammer pounding in.
Death is a scrabbling crab on all fours,
Death is a jaguar on rough padded paws,
Lurking in the oven doors,
And hiding in the bureau drawers.
Death is the lump within my breast,
Death is the invited dinner guest.
Death is the cadaver,
A slab of cold meat
That lies on a plate.
Death is the wall of frozen sleet.
Death to me comes much too late.
poem by Caroline Misner
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I Believe In Fairies
THERE ARE FAIRIES AMONG US
LIGHT ON THEIR FEET, DANCING AROUND,
WITH LITTLE FLUTTERING GREEN WINGS
THEY LIFT UP OFF THE GROUND.
THEY TOUCH OUR SHOULDERS
AS THEY SPIN AND SWIRL ABOUT,
WEARING LITTLE GOLDEN SLIPPERS
THEY CIRCLE US I HAVE NO DOUBT.
I HAVE FELT THEIR DELICATE TOUCH
AS THEY WHISPERED SOFTLY IN MY EAR,
DON'T EVER STOP BELIEVING IN FAIRIES
I KNOW THEY ARE OFTEN QUITE NEAR.
HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A LIGHT MOVEMENT
HEARD A BREEZE STIR MAKING A SOFT SIGH,
I KNOW IT IS A LITTLE PRANCING FAIRY
AS SHE IS PASSING VERY CLOSE BY.
I BELIEVE IN THE MAGIC FAIRIES
FLOWERS PEDALS THEY SLEEP IN,
THEY TOUCH OUR LIVES DAILY
THEY VISIT ME AGAIN AND AGAIN.
THEY VISIT LITTLE CHILDREN WHILE THEY SLEEP
ALL THEY HAVE TO DO IS BELIEVE,
TO NOT HAVE A LITTLE FAIRY NEAR ME
I WOULD TRULY BE SAD AND GRIEVE.
ON A STROLL THROUGH THE GARDEN
WHILE THE DEW JEWELS ARE STILL THERE,
WATCH FOR THE LITTLE FAIRIES IN THEIR TINY CROWNS
TO NOT FRIGHTEN THEM - YOU MUST TAKE CARE.
poem by Aashka Thakkar
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Evergreen
Evergreen
~
My heart is evergreen
Growing in every season
The garden of my soul
Refuses to wilt
A flower blooms in beauty
In this permanent place
I named it after you
With love
It grows constant
As you feed me passion
You keep me strong
In the garden of my soul
No death knell of seasons
Comes to visit here
While my heart remains
Evergreen
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Before It Becomes Too Late
Death, be not unkind.
Do not hold her long in your embrace.
Do not cause more pain by her unwanted continuance of this life.
I know that transition is inevitable, though I grieve
To think of her departure.
Suffering in the vacuum of her absence,
I shall not mourn, lest my mourning hinder the flight
of her soul.
But, hold just a while that I may talk with her.
That I may say the things I should have said:
Of her courage; of the void she has filled in my life;
Of my love for her. Why do we wait to say
The things we should have said.
What? I have said those things before, you say?
Surely not. Surely, not enough times.
I fear she does not know.
You say I delay conclusion? Yes, if I could.
Reluctantly, I let go of her soul that it may fly
Like a fragment of dawn, reflecting upon the face
Of the Waters.
As an impassioned phrase from some familiar
Line of verse that touches one's heart, a majestic
Quiescence moves across her face. Deep sleep.
The closure of this sojourn is now complete.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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A battle between soul and death
My body has become a battle field,
Battle, a fierce battle, I cried in pain,
As death comes and fights to pull the soul,
Nothing happens as death has no gain.
I have been a heart and gastric patient,
My body burns with a wound of heart,
And my heart burns with it's own light,
But soul and death wrestle part to part.
A great war took place in my body,
Death violently ordered to the soul to surrender,
But soul is not ready to surrender then war began,
Many souls and deaths saw the war and wonder.
What about my body? I shouted at them,
My body has been burning since long,
Listening this, death laughed and soul hit it,
Soul told me that “death is going to do you wrong”.
You go away otherwise the death harms you,
Soul strongly pushed to the death and saved me,
I forever pray to God to give strength to my soul,
I am very thankful to my soul to protect me like a bee.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Love is The Fire
Love is the fire that burns me,
The smokes are thoughts confused,
Which dim my soul, my soul,
And hath my sense abused.
Though fire to ashes turn me,
Yet doth the smoke more grieve me,
That dims my mind,
Whose light should still relieve me.
poem by Thomas Bateson
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If I Should Die
If I should die
and you should grieve
my soul would weep
I do believe.
And knowing this
is hard to bear.
For leaving you
there is no where
to cover gloom.
But in your heart
there still is room
for memories
of how we were.
So please, my love
I ask of you
'Do not grieve
for we're not through.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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