Incapacitated Soul
It signifies incapacitation, it makes you sweat from your soul,
And it needed learning and readjustment - it is called death.
It was enjoyed as a tale so twisted, igniting hazards afterwards,
Many fooled themselves by it, working a party of ignorance.
The need for such an adjacent and accompanying event
Is only there mysteriously, but what is the mystery?
Death has an aroma of eloquence, fitting to be called a scent
That is fed to the young and old, no matter what age.
May your legs and arms carry all that burden,
But let the end of our lives swear to modify the eternity.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Fixed Work
Good works never die, they carry no weather,
For the hazards that bring discomfort are fixed,
And the deeds of nature are as fortunate as Beauty,
Dense clouds are above us saying the burden of water.
May we never be death, as the lives of offerings are sweet,
Fixtures are made, productions are run, and the creation did come,
Under the sea and over all the planets,
So that hazards are brought to the back of the throat.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Question?
Is there an end to all we know
or is there never an end?
I guess no one can answer that
for right around the bend
are answers that we can't remember
and scenes that are a burned out ember
in the memories of that dead-end
called death.
But death is not our enemy.
I'm sure it's just a destiny
that frees us from the fear of it
and proves it's just the opposite.
The answers to all we didn't know
will teach us there's no end.
And still the ones we leave behind
will ask the question once again.
And so life revolves mysteriously
just the way it's supposed to be
until we meet our friend
called death.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Event Of My Death
Event of my Death
As I Iay in the dawn of the hours waiting for my body to rest
I wonder what I will do in the event of my death….
In the event of my death most just think heaven or hell
No not me it doesn’t stop there…
In the event of my death my spirit will leave my body
My spirit will truly start living
In the event of my death I case my location,
Thinking about what led up to this…
In the event of my death I will visit all my loved ones…
My first visit will be to my king..
I will watch over him making him feel secure..
In the event of my death I will make my presence known
I will make them feel me in the heart and their surroundings…
In the event of my death I will travel…
I will hover over all the pyramids in Egypt,
I will explore all the places I’ve never been..
In the event of my death I will talk with my creator..
I will know all the answers…
Most of all In the Event of my death I will meet with my brother..
My brother and I will be together again…
In the Event of My death I will realize I’m really not dead..
In the Event of My death I will know that my spirit lives on..
I will know what living is all about…
In the Event of My death I will be immortal
I will be goddess a In the Event of My death...
I will be what I was born to be....
I will be free
I will be free of insecurities, free of poverty,
free of calamity, free of a broken heart,
Free of depression, free of negativity,
Free of racism, free of prejudice
I will be free In the Event of my Death
I will be all the things I was born to be...
I will be powerful, I will be beautiful, and I will be limitless
I will be a Goddess in the Event of my death...
Now what will you be....
Author: Templar Thomas
poem by Templar Thomas
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Death
Death is a gift from heavens above,
Death is something you can not run from,
Death is something you can not regret,
Death is a wish,
A wish you might soon to regret,
Death can scare you,
You can not cheat death's design,
Death is not a game,
Death is something you might not win,
When you number is called you know death is calling for you,
Theres no pain, No more regrets, No more broken hearts,
Someday soon we all will die in deaths arms.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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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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destiny
It was my destiny to die,
and no matter how much you try,
it is everyones destiny to die,
no matter old or young,
death will break the needle on which you're life is strung,
death cares not that you're in love,
death will push you death will shove,
till you're life is on the edge,
then death the sealer of you're destiny,
will steal you're soul,
and let you be,
for it truly is our destiny,
no matter how hard it is to see,
to live to die to simply be.
poem by Annabell Callest
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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.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Trash, Trampoline And The Party Girl
I know a girl, a girl called Party
Party girl
I know she wants more than a party
Party girl
And she won't tell me her name
I know a boy, a boy called Trash
Trash Can
I know he does all that he can
Wham Bam
And he won't tell me his name
I have a heart, a heart that's beating inside
When I was three I thought the world revolved around me
I was wrong
And so I sing along
And if you dance, then dance with me
I know a girl, a girl called Party
Party girl
I know she wants more than a party
Party girl
I know a boy, a boy called Trampoline
You know what I mean
I think you know what he wants
I think he knows what he wants
I think he knows what he wants
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death Of Edger Allan Poe
Who is the master
of mysterious macabre
in intense short story
in haunting poetic verse?
The persona
of his poem
Spirits Of The Dead
relates another
of Edger's
possible thematic
dimensions
of haunting death.
These spirits
of the dead
are lost souls
newly come
into death
we witness
their first hour
of death
as our own
potential
after life.
'Into thine
hour of secrecy',
could be our own
fate or destiny,
our own first
awakening in death.
The newly deceased
are advised
'Be silent in that solitude',
in that first hour, because
‘In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.’
The concept
of spirits long dead
assuming greater
power than the
newly dead
is embedded
in many cultures.
The poem
Spirits Of The Dead
attains rich
macabre imagery
but the essence is
‘Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish’
These words
describing thoughts and visions
ne’er to banish or vanish,
imply an eternity
to face the consequences
of our deeds in life
in a limbo of the lost.
Another rich tale
from a master,
at invoking settings
of emotive
alternative realities.
His short stories
reveal a fascination
with emotional extremes,
particularly fear,
though his essays
show that he was capable
of being objective and critical.
And in life too real
how ultimately befell
The Haunted Death
of Edger Allan Poe?
Poe returned to New York city
in 1844 still wretched and poor
despite popular literary acclaim
his life still wretched remained.
Virginia his wife cousin died
of tuberculosis ill in 1847
Poe an alcoholic still poor
died in Baltimore in 1849.
Herein we relate the final fate
of dark romantic doomed to die
in mysterious death tragic deed!
Poe was found in the streets
delirious in a great distress,
in early morn alone coherent
long enough never to explain,
how he came to be in such
a dire deadly condition,
mysteriously oddly
wearing clothes not his.
tragedy the mystery
fitting fate cursed
poet only deepens
Let us recount ‘The Raven’ tis
the night before his death day,
Poe is said to cry out repeatedly
called called the name 'Reynolds'
to whom he was referring
remained eternally unclear,
Poe's final words sourced
'Lord help my poor soul'?
What caused this untimely death?
Poe's death newspapers reported
as 'congestion of the brain' or
'cerebral inflammation', this
common euphemism for deaths
from disreputable causes
such as alcoholism
the actual cause of death
remains a mystery...
a host of wield explanations
abound suggesting multiple,
causes possibilities bizarre
speculation included cooping,
‘delirium tremens’ colloquially
the DTs, the shakes, the horrors,
the heebie geebies, the fear,
the staggers and jags, the rats,
the shakes and the heaves, the abdabs,
afflicted jitterbugs; cholera, epilepsy,
heart disease, meningeal inflammation
rabies, syphilis, conditions precipitous.
Mystery upon Mysteries
medical records,
including his death certificate,
were strangely lost!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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~~~! Death! ~~~
Death waits for prey,
Death stalks, pounces then slays.
Death waits for no-one,
Death is an army of one.
Stalking, pouncing, stalking, pouncing,
That's what they say he does.
Running, stabbing, running, stabbing,
Killing is what Death loves.
Death can be black, death can be white,
Death can take to flight.
I hope you have enough breath,
I hope you've enjoyed my tale about death.
poem by Joshua Cheung
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Death part 1
Death can strike when we least expect it
Death is a significant event that will change our lives
Death will cause sorrow, depression, grief, and loneliness
Death is like the ending cycle of one's life and a beginning for another
But death can also bring new life
poem by Jeffrey Liminsang
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Why Death Comes?
There is a place after life;
There is a home after death;
There is a life after life on earth,
And that is the Abode of God
Called Heaven!
It’s a place of joy alone;
It’s a place devoid of sorrows;
It’s a place that’s free from pain and sin;
It’s a place that’s very pure;
It’s a place where sufferings are unknown;
It’s a place of everlasting joy;
It’s a place of commune with God-
Eternity is its name!
Death gives rest to souls that depart;
Death gives reprieve from earthly woes;
Death is the only way to God’s Abode;
Death heralds the resurrection of souls!
When death comes, why should we fear?
Death is the one way to Heaven;
But when it comes, our soul must be prepared,
And if that is done, why bother?
Miracles can be wrought by God;
Prayers can bring miracles through;
Yet, a sea of fervent appeals from souls,
May not keep back a single soul
For a time longer than
What God has pre-destined!
Because, God knows each heart;
God knows each soul;
God knows our sufferings,
And the ideal time to deliver
All.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-2-2005
poem by John Celes
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Trash, Trampoline & The Party Girl
I know a girl, a girl called party
Party girl
I know she wants more than a party
Party girl
And she wont tell me her name
I know a boy, a boy called trash
Trash can
I know he does all that he can
Wham bam
And he wont tell me his name
I have a heart, a heart thats beating inside
When I was three I thought the world revolved around me
I was wrong
And so I sing along
And if you dance, then dance with me
I know a girl, a girl called party
Party girl
I know she wants more than a party
Party girl
I know a boy, a boy called trampoline
You know what I mean
I think you know what he wants
I think he knows what he wants
I think he knows what he wants
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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What Is Death
death is love,
death is peace,
death is all the non-violent things around you,
death will hunt,
death will kill,
death is a fallin' angel,
death is what you will receive,
death is all around you,
death is love,
death is peace,
death is the killing angel of peace,
death will take every last soul,
death will vanish the day we leave,
you can run but you can from death,
he will find you no matter where you go,
death hunt by fear,
death is love,
death is peace,
death is all round.
poem by Jaqualen Roberts
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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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Death is.....
Death is peaceful
Death is sharp pain in my heart
Death is feeling sadness
Death is deppresion
death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is when i cant think about whats right
Death is a good thing on my behalf
Death started when i gained life
Death is where ill go
Death is near
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
DEATH WILL STOP MY MISERY
poem by Angelique Paniagua
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Hey Grayson
(Dedicated to Grayson Wolpert who changed our lives forever)
Hey Grayson did you see view?
When I walked into that room
So many people
So many tears
So many laughs
So many smiles
And so many hearts that went out to you
Hey Grayson did you hear what they said?
When I sat in that chair listening to speeches
So many funny stories
So many laughs
So many hilarious moments
So many deep conversations
So many encouraging words
So many special memories
And so many people that talked about the amazing you
Hey Grayson did you hear the words in which you were described?
So many called you passionate
So many called you loving
So many called you compassionate
So many called you unique
So many called you funny
So many called you beautiful
So many called you caring
So many called you inspirational
So many called you outgoing
And so many people that were grateful for you
Hey Grayson did you see those pictures?
So many of your horse and you
So many of your family and you
So many of your sister and you
So many of your mother and you
So many of your father and you
So many of special people and you
And so many people were deeply in love with you
Hey Grayson did you feel how much you were loved?
So many people would change for you
So many people would kill for you
So many people would die for you
So many people would do anything for you
Hey Grayson did you notice how many lives you affected?
So many people wanted to serve others because of you
So many people wanted to help others because of you
So many people wanted to be nice to others because of you
So many people wanted to encourage others because of you
So many people wanted to love others because of you
So many people wanted to change because of you
And so many people did change because of you
Hey Grayson did you see that checklist?
So many people were learning to love
So many people were learning to be loved
So many people were learning to grow
And so many people learned so much about life because of you
Hey Grayson did you take in all the change?
So many people were affected
So many people were transformed
So many people were wiser
So many people were better friends
So many people were better at all relationships
So many people were full of more knowledge
And so many people became new people because of you
Hey Grayson are you happy up there?
Now that you’ve seen all the love
Now that you’re surrounded by love
Now that you can watch the lives of the ones you love
Now that you are holding hands with angels
Now that you’re in a place of no more suffering, or pain, or tears
Now that you’re in a place full of beauty, wonder, and all things that are good
Now that you are embracing God
You’re in heaven where you are so high, the word up doesn’t even exist
Grayson you care about everyone
Grayson you love everyone
So Grayson have I told you the most important information of all?
Grayson, I love you
Grayson, everyone loves you
And that is how it will stay
For all eternity and longer
poem by Michelle Rainey
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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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Evil Soul
Your soul
Is just to evil
Im sorry to say
But youre a monster
In this tiny little world
Called Earth
How do you like it
Having people
Think your evil
I dont understand
Why they are so scared
Of you
Your a plague
That affects lives
Every single day
Your name
Why must I say it
It leaves people
With goosebumps
On their arms
Making people cry
For all there loved ones
Who were taken by you
Your name
Is death
And you have
A very
Evil soul
poem by Allison Unknown
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