The Departing Wish
The dying body wanted to say something
Too frail, it spoke only with eyes
One can do little around the time it dies!
The wife, the son, the ones close to him
Pressed the ears on the faintly parting lips
Death is surely winning, yea, its scale tips!
The body lay dying with just enough to cover shame
Audience was the living witness, of this silent mayhem
Eager to know the last word, or some last name!
The dying’s eyes dilated before they narrowed to slit
It couldn’t say, they didn’t know, what was it?
“Naked I was born, and make me that as I perish,
Remove my clothes”, was its last departing wish!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Related quotes
I Feel Like....
I feel like dying dying
Dying without you,
To leave this body,
To take a new.
It's not that I
Hate this night;
It's not that I
Have lost my right..
But I'm dying dying
Dying without you
To leave this present
To embrace a new.
None will mourn here
No heart-break;
No swan-song,
Not one inch's shake..
But, I feel like dying
Dying without you
To yield this robe,
To wear a new.
The secs of hour
Gapes me now....
Time pulls I know,
Inevitably how;
Still I feel like,
Dying, dying without you,
To take another life,
To get the new! !
poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dying
I'm Dying, Dying to wake up without you, without you in my head again
I'm Dying, Dying to forget about you, that you ever lived
There's a shade come over this heart that's coping with laying down to rest
I'm Dying to live without you again
I'm Dying, Dying to find a distraction, get you away from me
I'm Dying, Dying to reach a conclusion, so that the world can see
It's the same old story of love and glory that broke before it bent
I'm Dying to live without you again
The first time you left I said goodbye
Now there's not a prayer that can survive
Dying, Dying to die just to come back so we can meet again
Dying, Dying to say what I always should have said
It's a strange emotion this but there's still hope in this
As long as there's a breath...
I'm Dying and I can't live without you again
It's a strange emotion this but there's still hope in this
As long as there's a breath...
I'm Dying and I can't live without you
I'm Dying and I can't live without you again
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dying Words
My words to her
There dying
It was a warning
I made that so clear
But every time
She Ignores them
I don't want to help
But I must
I don't like to see her in pain
So I listen
No matter what its about
I will listen
These dying words
Where a warning
That I didn't want to
But these words
I spoke of
Are dying
I may say them again
But I cant handle seeing her in pain
Why could you just see
That I warned you
You did it again
And now these words
are dying
Just lost in the past
So these are my dying words
I'm not helping you
If you get hurt this time'
You just laughed at the now dying words
I guess now you must learn
There are no happy endings
At least not yet
These are my dying words...
Lost in a memory...
poem by Lizzy Henry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Numbness Along the Road Leading to Our Destiny
that night i passed by the road
leading to the house where i live,
someone died on the road
i did not mind i was eagerly heading for home
this morning while going to the university
another body sprawled on the road,
another dead body
there is a crowd of people
curious but not mourning
i do not stop for death
i am going towards mine
and we who are still living cannot really be surely
lucky
everyday we are dying
we simply have to wait for that fateful time
it is our turn we do not have to anticipate it
every hour
a part of us dies
it is enough
sharing these moments of death
and so i say
i cannot stop for another person's death
destiny has once taken him
and there is nothing that i can do
i am also just merely passing by...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ship of Death
I
Now it is autumn and the falling fruit
and the long journey towards oblivion.
The apples falling like great drops of dew
to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.
And it is time to go, to bid farewell
to one's own self, and find an exit
from the fallen self.
II
Have you built your ship of death, O have you?
O build your ship of death, for you will need it.
The grim frost is at hand, when the apples will fall
thick, almost thundrous, on the hardened earth.
And death is on the air like a smell of ashes!
Ah! can't you smell it?
And in the bruised body, the frightened soul
finds itself shrinking, wincing from the cold
that blows upon it through the orifices.
III
And can a man his own quietus make
with a bare bodkin?
With daggers, bodkins, bullets, man can make
a bruise or break of exit for his life;
but is that a quietus, O tell me, is it quietus?
Surely not so! for how could murder, even self-murder
ever a quietus make?
IV
O let us talk of quiet that we know,
that we can know, the deep and lovely quiet
of a strong heart at peace!
How can we this, our own quietus, make?
V
Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.
And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.
Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised,
already our souls are oozing through the exit
of the cruel bruise.
Already the dark and endless ocean of the end
is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,
Already the flood is upon us.
Oh build your ship of death, your little ark
and furnish it with food, with little cakes, and wine
for the dark flight down oblivion.
VI
Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul
has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.
We are dying, we are dying, we are all of us dying
and nothing will stay the death-flood rising within us
and soon it will rise on the world, on the outside world.
We are dying, we are dying, piecemeal our bodies are dying
and our strength leaves us,
and our soul cowers naked in the dark rain over the flood,
cowering in the last branches of the tree of our life.
VII
We are dying, we are dying, so all we can do
is now to be willing to die, and to build the ship
of death to carry the soul on the longest journey.
A little ship, with oars and food
and little dishes, and all accoutrements
fitting and ready for the departing soul.
Now launch the small ship, now as the body dies
and life departs, launch out, the fragile soul
in the fragile ship of courage, the ark of faith
with its store of food and little cooking pans
and change of clothes,
upon the flood's black waste
upon the waters of the end
upon the sea of death, where still we sail
darkly, for we cannot steer, and have no port.
There is no port, there is nowhere to go
only the deepening blackness darkening still
blacker upon the soundless, ungurgling flood
darkness at one with darkness, up and down
and sideways utterly dark, so there is no direction any more
and the little ship is there; yet she is gone.
She is not seen, for there is nothing to see her by.
She is gone! gone! and yet
somewhere she is there.
Nowhere!
VIII
And everything is gone, the body is gone
completely under, gone, entirely gone.
The upper darkness is heavy as the lower,
between them the little ship
is gone
It is the end, it is oblivion.
IX
And yet out of eternity a thread
separates itself on the blackness,
a horizontal thread
that fumes a little with pallor upon the dark.
Is it illusion? or does the pallor fume
A little higher?
Ah wait, wait, for there's the dawn
the cruel dawn of coming back to life
out of oblivion
Wait, wait, the little ship
drifting, beneath the deathly ashy grey
of a flood-dawn.
Wait, wait! even so, a flush of yellow
and strangely, O chilled wan soul, a flush of rose.
A flush of rose, and the whole thing starts again.
X
The flood subsides, and the body, like a worn sea-shell
emerges strange and lovely.
And the little ship wings home, faltering and lapsing
on the pink flood,
and the frail soul steps out, into the house again
filling the heart with peace.
Swings the heart renewed with peace
even of oblivion.
Oh build your ship of death. Oh build it!
for you will need it.
For the voyage of oblivion awaits you.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dying In The Sun
Do you remember
The things we used to say?
I feel so nervous
When I think of yesterday
How could I let things
Get to me so bad?
How did I let things get to me?
Like dying in the sun
Like dying in the sun
Like dying in the sun
Like dying x2
Will you hold on to me
I am feeling frail
Will you hold on to me
We will never fail
I wanted to be so perfect you see
I wanted to be so perfect
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Beyond the Eleven Thousandth, Two Hundred and Twenty Eighth Charred Bridge...
she said,
I can't believe
you didn't come
to see me
in the hospital!
'Did so.
You were unconscious.'
You did NOT!
Where was my room?
'Right down the hall
from the nurse's station.
There was a bed
& a t.v. mounted on the wall.
See? I visited.'
You are a sack
of lying pigshit!
That's any fucking
hospital room
on earth!
I was dying,
didn't you realize
I was dying? ?
I could have
DIED, I was
DYING...! ! '
'Okay, okay,
the truth
is I'm saving
all my energy
for the tombstone.
I want to sit
there every day
& apologize
& regret
& apologize
from the time
the first sparrow chirps
to the last crackhead
wakes in the evening
and screams out
what his veins
and his gerbil-brain
are saying over & over
into his wife's ears.
I'm planning my
retirement around it.
I even have the chair
picked out, it's
got a space
for a beer can
and a remote control
built into it.
Real classy.'
'You are going
to rot in Hell.'
'Honey, hell
would be worth it
just to see
someone else
have the last word
just once.'
poem by W.B. Keckler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Death
Silent death holds my breath
Stalks me from above the trees
There is no breeze
When death walks in my shoes
Silent, cautious, confident
A brilliant business man
Silent death’s cold embrace
Makes me dizzy
He is always busy
But has time for me
Silent death drowns my body
He isn’t sorry
Silent death looks at me
Underneath the water
My eyes dilated
Catch a glimpse
poem by Double A P SS
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Dying
Dying
Youve seen the crippled dance
Give me your money baby, nows your chance
Your lies like cyanide
I am so dumb
Just beam me up
Ive had it all forever
Ive had enough
Remember, you promised me...
Im dying, Im dying please
I want to, I need to be...
Under your skin
Our love is quicksand, so easy to drown
They steal the gravity out from moving ground
Remember, you promised me...
Im dying, Im dying please
I want to I need to be...
Under your skin
And now I understand
You leave with everything
You leave with everything I am
In the rain
And I now I know that love is dead
You come to bury me
Theres nothing left here to pretend..
Remember you promised me...
Im dying, Im dying please
I want to, I need to be...
Under your skin
Im dying Im dying please
Im dying Im dying please
Im dying Im dying please
Under your skin
Under your skin
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child Is Dying
for every tree you cut down,
a child is dying.
for every barrel of oil that
you drill and spill,
a child is dying.
for every coal mine you
rape the earth with,
a child is dying.
for all the nuclear waste
you cannot dispose of,
a child is dying.
for every country you bomb,
a child is dying.
for every chemical you spray
on your vegetables,
a child is dying.
for every river you dam & drain,
a child is dying.
for every oil field you own,
a child is dying.
for every animal you drive
to the brink of extinction,
a child is dying.
for every smokestack, every sweatshop,
and every synthetic thought,
a child is dying.
for every tree you cut down....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dying Soldier
I taste blood.
I am dying.
I see things more clearly now.
I feel the broken bones
Within my exhausted sack of a body
And I know
I am dying.
I see the doctors come to examine me.
I know there is nothing they can do.
Too many bullet wounds.
So much blood has gone.
The nurses look at me
With pity and pain.
I cry, silently, at night
Taste the saltiness of my tears,
Hear the screams of the madmen some of us have become.
We will never be whole again.
I turn away from everything.
The drugs make me drowsy, but don't make me forget.
I'd have nightmares in my sleep.
Put me in a drug induced coma
Inside I would still weep.
I know I am dying.
My parents will be given a medal
At my funeral.
Another son of the country dies
Honorably
At battle.
I taste blood, I feel the pain
In my exhaustion I see things clearly.
I am dying.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Laughter
I felt as though I was in sight of laughing slaughter,
The help to reserve for the weak and dying was overwhelming,
But I felt I had seen the laughter of a hundred.
These dying people hungered my knowledge since the very day,
Daylight is a sacred time for those living who have holiness and piety;
The dying see death in their own time of the night that is holy.
I feel like someone who is a priest, with priesthood,
And I learn quickly of research, and the dying infants
In another country, but the older people are just not given.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dying is mot much of a living when your young
The prescription pills, they comfort me
Telling me not cry,
no-one says a prayer for me as it’s
Midnight I now close my eyes,
But the nights air is out here with me
Reminding me of ghost from early graves,
Singing whisky blues with gritted teeth as my
Guitar sits crying the lost soul serenade
Dying aint much of a living and
Crying is not much more of a better disguise
But when your living on the run, its too late for forgiveness
So I embrace the steel of my gun with god as my final witness
My minds unraveling constantly
The ties of haunting imagery have become undone
Concentration on the barrel,
Dying is mot much of a living when your young
poem by Daniel Richards
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1: 00 am Prayer.
Oh Lord, before I close my eyes
On this troubled world,
Let me posses peace in my heart.
Make me witness such kindness and love,
So my eyes fill with tears of joy.
Turn fear, avarice, violence and racism,
Into a another past in time.
Deep int a new understanding.
Stop our brothers and sisters from
Dying in a dying war,
And raise hope for the hopeless.
Give peace to the troubled.
Let us remember that we are separated,
By fear, hate, poverty
And the politicians of a corrupt World.
poem by Willow Moon Pearce
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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Time How Short
Time, with an unwearied hand,
Pushes round the seasons past,
And in life's frail glass, the sand
Sinks apace, not long to last:
Many, well as you or I,
Who last year assembled thus;
In their silent graves now lie,
Graves will open soon for us!
Daily sin, and care, and strife,
While the Lord prolongs our breath,
Make it but a dying life,
Or a kind of living death:
Wretched they, and most forlorn,
Who no better portion know;
Better ne'er to have been born,
Than to have our all below.
When constrained to go alone,
Leaving all you love behind;
Ent'ring on a world unknown,
What will then support your mind?
When the Lord his summons sends,
Earthly comforts lose their pow'r;
Honours, riches, kindred, friends,
Cannot cheer a dying hour.
Happy souls who fear the Lord
Time is not too swift for you;
When your Saviour gives the word,
Glad you'll bid the world adieu:
Then he'll wipe away your tears,
Near himself appoint your place;
Swifter fly, ye rolling years,
Lord, we long to see thy face.
poem by John Newton
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If only my eyes do not pain
If only my eyes do not pain
If only these eyes do not get tired
Eyes they are of a human frailty
I could have written a thousand
More poems in
256 ghz
but I am just a man
a mere mortal
with mortal eyes
I am not Dracula
I am not God
I have eyes that pain
I have fingers that tremble
I have a body that is frail
I have a soul that once in a while
Falter and fall and stumble
So please bear with me
In my tiredness the words slow down
Like dying soldiers in the front
While the war rages on and on and on
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Death Penalty
Bring back the death penalty screamed a lady as the blood ran, dripping from the cold concrete as her sons blood fled from its body. Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother as her child dies slowly watching the pools of life fade away from his eyes.
Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother while she watched her child being killed by the hands of another man, bring back the death penalty.
Bring back the death penalty as she screamed holding her dying child while he laid his last words and breath upon her chest. Bring back the death penalty she screamed in mercy so that she will so that she will no longer have to hold any more of her dying sons and lay them in graves before she lays in her own.
Bring back the death penalty she screamed as her sons soul left his body and he became another victim to a violent society. Bring back the death penalty, bring back our sons.
poem by Melvyn Mohan
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When a Friend Is Dying
When a friend is dying,
then we begin to think
of life's injustice when
the one we love has to
be taken away from us.
When a friend is dying,
then we begin to see
how fragile life is
that at a wink of an eye
it disappears and dies.
When a friend is dying,
then we begin to
collect memories
of the time we've shared
and in our hearts we treasure.
When a friend is dying,
then we begin to fetch
strength and hope
from the scriptures
of our own religion.
When a friend is dying,
we shed tears and find
comfort in the embrace
and presence of all those
who with us also mourn.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dying before dying has two important consequences: It liberates the individual from the fear of death and influences the actual experience of dying at the time of biological demise.
quote by Stanislav Grof
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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