Related quotes: It seems in my pensive...

Memo Form The Mad Artist

It seems in my pensive solemn tone
I sit here quietly waiting for death
The wine does not ease my sorrow
Nor my remorseful thoughts which play
No there no silencing them it seems
Death it appears to be a career move
In death an artist is revered raised aloft
Perhaps the guilt of those around them
Darkling little thoughts are these
In this pensive solemn tone
Which sought some celebration
Passionate little soul it once were
Now embittered and distraught
Unequipped with the tools to face tomorrow
Surrenders to the night to sleep
In the hope of a dying sleep
The evil frightening idea is there
And around the cell is echoes
To be kept within a cage imprisoned
Sours the artists rage and tone
In all its solemn toll

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Minor Breathing

If only you could see.
What lies behind these fragile eyes.
The knowledge of these tears.
The reason I seem malign.

See, I was never prideful.
And forever, I felt scorned.
One's silence may seem frightful.
When he bows his head forlorn.

Knowing I've never fully triumphed.
Any chaos I have fought.
I cracked my blade in battle.
A repair that can't be bought.

Not pessimistic, nor of naught.
I just see things as they are.
That's probably why I can't believe.
How I've made it this far.

For, every path I trot.
I hear that wretched lonely tone.
And every breath exhaled.
I hear that solemn minor tone.

If only you could feel.
This fixated and tender heart.
These weakening hands still claw.
At it's reflective, fallen shards.

And in my somber dreams.
A cacophony of screams.
This madness, I can take.
Until that melody awakes.

For every move I make.
I hear that wretched lonely tone.
And every vein that pumps.
I hear that solemn minor tone.

That savage, painful tone.
Embedded in my flesh and bone.
The melodic burden drones.
My soul echoes it's metronome.

poem by Aaron Lynn
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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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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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In Death, My Final Part

A tower grim; a glowering darkness,
And only brown of red the other hue
– I saw it in the distant eyes –
And yes, He knew, but focussed only
On the mortal soul of mine –
After all, He had a role to play,
And wine: my shivering blood to quaff!
If only I could Him betray –
To break the seal of destiny;
Escape the lone cacophony
That emanates from wailing minds!

Damn the fate of His – it awes and blinds!
But oh! the mighty hammer strikes a toll;
The slow approach of Him upon the knoll
Commences exudation of a dying heart.
Endorsing all, I honed my final part.

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
The final part

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Dying Queen

"I would meet death awake."

The strength that bore her on for years
Was ebbing fast away,
And o'er the pale and lifep;worn face,
Death's solemn shadows lay.

With tender love and gentle care,
Friends gathered round her bed,
And for her sake each footfall hushed
The echoes of its tread.

They knew the restlessness of death
Through every nerve did creep,
And carefully they tried to lull
The dying Queen to sleep.

In vain she felt Death's icy hand
Her failing heart-strings shake;
And, rousing up, she firmly said,
"I'd meet my God awake."

Awake, I've met the battle's shock,
And born the cares of state;
Nor shall I take your lethean cup,
And slumber at death's gate.

Did I not watch with eyes alert,
The path where foes did tend;
And shall I veil my eyes with sleep,
To meet my God and friend?

Nay, rather from my weary lids,
This heavy slumber shake,
That I may pass the mystic vale,
And meet my God awake.

poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Let The Night Sleep

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!

While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!

While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?

Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!

poem by Subbaraman N V
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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!

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
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Tone

Find me a tone for this poem
I am having a hard time
With putting the proper tone
Though I am pretty sure
Of its form
What form to use
The shape of the swan
A white swan
On a lake
Alone
Give me a tone
That conveys what I
Want to convey
To you
A language
That really means
What it says
Something
Creative
A path
That I must
Follow
Leading me
To you
Give me a tone
Please
A tone from
You
The one
I really love
The one
That must
Love me
Too
Truly,
Tell me
What is the
Tone now
Of this poem

Is it begging?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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By The Bivouac's Fitful Flame

BY the bivouac's fitful flame,
A procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow;--but first
I note,
The tents of the sleeping army, the fields' and woods' dim outline,
The darkness, lit by spots of kindled fire--the silence;
Like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving;
The shrubs and trees, (as I lift my eyes they seem to be stealthily
watching me;)
While wind in procession thoughts, O tender and wondrous thoughts,
Of life and death--of home and the past and loved, and of those that
are far away;
A solemn and slow procession there as I sit on the ground,
By the bivouac's fitful flame. 10

poem by Walt Whitman
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A Teacher, A Pen, and A Handshake

A teacher, a pen, a handshake.
Three deaths in one day
And each a death-toll in my heart.
I cannot even pray
My soul is so overwrought.
How much light can the darkness take?
Does eternity truly hold us apart?

A teacher, a pen, a handshake.
Three bodies in one grave.
Oh, you wretched world, mourn deep!
For one who freely gave
Of truth and love and soulful ink.
I fear my soul and heart shall break!
For death has taken them into it’s keep.

A teacher, a pen, a handshake.
Three stars fallen in space
Which once burned bright as the tears
Burning on my face.
How solemn strike the chords of death
Such a mournful tune they make –
And the Weaver of Worlds on a bier!

poem by Sophia White
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Hymn 122

Believers buried with Christ in baptism.

Rom. 6:3,4,etc.

Do we not know that solemn word,
That we are buried with the Lord,
Baptized into his death, and then
Put off the body of our sin?

Our souls receive diviner breath,
Raised from corruption, guilt, and death;
So from the grave did Christ arise,
And lives to God above the skies.

No more let sin or Satan reign
Over our mortal flesh again;
The various lusts we served before
Shall have dominion now no more.

poem by Isaac Watts
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Blurred (Part 2)

A man walks through the rubble of this cold and mindless
Land with a chip on his shoulder and a pistol in his hand
No emontions he has immortal thoughts
No friends or peers for a thousand years in a place
Where he's been dropped
Just a threat and a waste of a deaf, blind soul
His tricks and cons are carried on while the ignorant enroll
You won't be the first, you'll be the very last to know
When you're face to face with a man called death
And lifes the pending toll
So if you want to turnout like this bold and fearless man
The keep living your life in a reckless abandon
Thrown the dice, this gamble you have lost
Realize what you must sacrifice to pay the growing costs
Caught in a cage you slowly fill with rage
In a world where hates like a never ending plague
You won't be the first, you'll be the last to know
When you're face to face with a man called death,
And lifes the pending toll

song performed by by Unwritten Law
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blurred

A man walks through the rubble of this cold and mindless
Land with a chip on his shoulder and a pistol in his hand
No emotions he has immortal thoughts
No friends or peers for a thousand years in a place where he's been dropped
Just a threat and a waste of a deaf, blind soul
His tricks and cons are carried on while the ignorant enroll
You won't be the first, you'll be the very last to know
When you're face to face with a man called Death and life's the pending toll
So if you want to turn out like this bold and fearless man
Then keep living your life in a reckless abandon
Thrown the dice, this gamble you have lost
Realize what you must sacrifice to pay the growing costs
Caught in a cage you slowly fill with rage
In a world where hate's like a never ending plague
You won't be the first, you'll be the very last to know
When you're face to face with a man called Death and life's the pending toll

song performed by by Unwritten Law
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Death is... A Compilation of Death Poetry

(10/05/2000)

Death is when your loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain to the heart

Death is a feeling of permanent sadness & pain
Death is when your loved ones have forever gone away

Death is a call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell

Death is a lesson to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is an unhappy feeling to have
Death is unpleasant on anyone's behalf

Death is something we all will go through
Death is a storm waiting to brew

Death is a lingering crow always overhead
Death is a soul, done being fed

Death is cruel,
Death is unfair,
Why death?
Does death care?

Death is unkind,
Death breaks hearts,
Why death?
Do you like to part?

Death is here,
Death is there,
Why death?
Why be everywhere?

Death is the end,
Death is to die,
Why death?
To make people cry?

Death was created,
Death is still here,
Why death?
We live in fear,

Death is death,
Death is dead,
Why death?
Because death said.

Death is forever, so don’t flirt with death
Death is painful, so stay away from knifes
Death is not for lovers, so don’t die
Death is not for me, so don’t even try

Death is never clear, so be careful
Death is never fun, so stay away from strangers
Death is never pleasing, so don’t get caught up in the hype
Death is never fair, so get use to it
Death is always occurring, so don’t forget it

Death is never what u expect, so expect the unexpected
Death is not for you, so please don’t give up
Death is forever, so don’t forget that

poem by Shenise Ashmeade
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
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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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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.

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
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Death is....

Death is when your loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain to the heart

Death is a feeling of permanent sadness and pain
Death is when your loved ones have forever gone away

Death is a call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell

Death is a lesson to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt

Death is an unhappy feeling to have
Death is unpleasant on anyone's behalf

Death is something we all will go through
Death is a storm waiting to brew

Death is a lingering crow always overhead
Death is a soul, done being fed

poem by Rebekah Joh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Solemn Truth

It's a sad solemn truth
This sad solemn lie.
Just taken from our youth
Was it worth it to try?

We can precieve what we need.
If what we want doesn't get in our way.
But it always will, always will.

It's a sad solemn truth
This sad solemn life
Just taken from our world
Was it worth the strife?

We can precieve what's believed.
Or you can read into this solemn life
But you never will, never will...

poem by Moth Harris
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No Hope

I am left with no hope at all,
No possibility to reach my goal,

The Day of my death is fixed,
I am so very anxious that I can not sleep all night.

Though I know the reward of obedience and worship,
But I have no tendency for it.

I am silent for a certain reason,
Otherwise I can convince you with my words,

Why I shouldn't cry,
For when I don't, she asks about me,

My heart is burning, though you cannot see the spot,
But O my doctor, can't you smell my heart burn?

I have reached to a certain state,
From where even I cannot find myself.

I am dying (Waiting anxiously) for my death,
I don't know where the hell my death has gone.

With what face you will go to Ka'ba, O! Ghalib,
You should be ashamed of yourself while thinking to go there.

poem by Mirza Ghalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Memo Form The Mad Artist

Related quotes

Minor Breathing

It's Death Again

In Death, My Final Part

The Dying Queen

Let The Night Sleep

Death, My Friend

Tone

By The Bivouac's Fitful Flame

A Teacher, A Pen, and A Handshake

Hymn 122

Blurred (Part 2)

Blurred

Death and I

Death is... A Compilation of Death Poetry

Mark R. Slaughter

Disingenuousness

A Fresh Endeavour

Death is....

Solemn Truth

No Hope

En.Citatepedia^®.ro