Untold Dark To Conceive Light
very close to death
the man who waits for dawn
ringing the bell midnight burns
who knows how far the daybreak
perplexed the clock
would it run with habit
which deserves to be dictator
death dawn time
three limits unlimited
waiting and beyond
wisdom simply the confusion
someone rules by catching low merit
someone bowing obedience
the circus unlimited
man nearing to death
dawn waiting to touch the feet
and poet observes silently
can't speak
can't communicate
simply writes
some senseless words
wish to feed it up by senses
Pranab k c
Edited on 13/10/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death
Death, death, nearing death
Death, death, death
Death, death
Death
Death, death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death-Statement
Death has no color at all yet
you the liar
the poet and painter
tried to make me convinced
much colorful journey to anchor
whenever the gossip begins
you cried with enthusiastic arrogance
to simply the eternity infinity
with its gorgeous act to guide the chariot
blunt bogus the orthodox maniac
never tried to catch the origin
by dying you own
words and brushes
many times illustrate
a deep romantic ambiance
as if
death is the destiny to grab
with heroic passion
liar you are
I don't believe you
the poet and painter
you only know the way to
tremendous self-suffering
to enjoy death every moment
actually you don't live
live your ideas...
Pranab k c
03/09/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blade Is A Space
Between life and death
Awaits a blade
And a man awaits in decision
The midnight
The stars above
Awaits with a loud laughter
To cheer up the defeat...
Pranab k c
Edited on 01/08/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Canary
I learn my name
I write with a number two pencil
I work up to my potential
I earn my meat
I come when called
I jump when you circle the cherry I sing like a good canary
I come when called
I come, thats all
Send it up on fire
Death before dawn
Send it up on fire
Death before dawn
I clean the house
I put all your books in an order
I make up a colorful border
I clean my mouth
Cause froth comes out
Send it up on fire
Death before dawn
Send it up on fire
Death before dawn
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poet Part (3)
Unlimited
Unlimited Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
Unlimited
A poet is unlimited.
Unlimited
For Death
Death is
Not a danger...
Death is
Good silince...
Death is
Not a fear...
Death is peace...
Death is
Not for cry...
Death is
Only at happy..
Death is
Not distup for
All... all...
why...!
Death is
Simply with out
Breath...
For others
Not for relatons
And dead body's...
At same time
Death is one of
Birth...
O...soory for sins...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Dawn
At dawn…
The time when I feel all alone
When everybody is asleep
And are still catching some zzzz’s
At dawn…
The hour when the place is quiet
When I’m almost dumb and deaf
And silence is all I can hear
At dawn…
The break when my mind’s unloaded
When my body is free from pains
And my heart is filled with wonder
At dawn…
Each day with a date with God
I spend this quiet time in grace
Thanking Him for the night that passed
At dawn…
I pray to our Almighty Lord above
Praising Him for who He is-
An awesome and wonderful God
At dawn…
I plead for His help so I could do
All the tasks that I have to make
At dawn, and for the rest of the day
poem by Rose de Ramar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never...never Before....
the shore never called me so near so close
never its wide range of varying hollowness
blinds my eager waiting to dive
the deserted dreams
side by the sea of airy fathoms
flows its instinct eros
transferring noisy anguish to detect the surface
pebbles never to adore an endearing tavern
the hell to hungry transit
low scale aroma lies behind its fiery apron
dusk to dawn
thousand seagulls can't feel the mast
a ship sails where unknown
thousand stringers never to peep
the propelling fits where water flows
shack to shack importunate capillary
told the sphere to grow more images
yet the shore
called so close to gulf the glittering
never done before
a life may not live to spell death so absorbed
where necessity the vain tryings
to make the vessel over and overbeared
with havings which never
I had before
my shore my sea my solitude
never lie so deep to strangle
life and death so clear
never happens the balance
to hold the head high to sun
never never never...
Pranab k c
11/06/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meaning of Death
when a poet writes of death
don't take it literally
death has many meanings
which differ significantly
to a poet death might mean
death of a past
which is a new beginning
one that might last
death to a poet is life
time to start a new chapter
turn the page
turn sadness into laughter
to a poet death is a new start
ending of strife
closing, locking the doors
of their old life
death has so many meanings
not only for a poet
all parts of life leads to death
some just don't know it
death means change
chance for a new beginning
put the past behind
stop losing, start winning
so to a poet
death is not always bad
we must write our feelings
whether good or sad
p.s.not sure this makes much sense
but i was buzzed ;)
poem by Sandy Nobody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Undefined Beauty
amazing brilliance transmitted
through her sprouting tombs
guarded by obedient strict straps
never seen such warm built
between pillar and the plank
she stands her gazing grabs a far
waiting to graft any desert
to ratify with solitude where wind
never feathered its cooling thirst
brilliance to be defined when realised
a palate without any color touch
asked her to sit beside fortune
she looked with a variant look
glittering spelled out with splash
to hold the burden she possessed
silently imagined it was not divine
the holly angel nowhere to bleed
simply sin her rest of springing profile
sparrowing from heaven to hell
from market to palace
lunatic hunger made her primitive resolution
to back to cut the fiber with eternal heat
the marble floor the strong built shade
where she stands began to revolve
soon below her feet
poet the common genre
occupied by magnetic trance
simply jumping from floor to roof
from arrogance to abbreviation
just to illustrate the illusion ever undefined...!
Pranab k c
26/08/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Venom
a silent alley
a girl enters at dawn
leaves at midnight
a silent alley
a man sits silently
to swim time endlessly
a silent passion
always seeks a chance
Pranab k c
11/09/2011
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
A Trail of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Me Die A Youngman's Death
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party
Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides
Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one
Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death
poem by Roger McGough
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Wonderful Beautiful Lady Has Golden Eyes
Your angel eyes cursed me from the first time I met you
Your eyes have magic made me follow you simply
Your eyes colors stolen the color of the honey
Because the color of your eyes its gold
Your eyes shining in the night same the stars in the sky
I had never seen like you in whole the world
On all these specifications in you is not finished yet because you are unlimited in the beauty
Your long blond hair is very awesome
When the air plays with your blond hair & its fly when you are walking
Oh my god
I'm dying on this section of your beauty
Your awesome beauty chasing me everywhere I go
I can't remove you from my head simply
I see your picture always in front of my eyes
You burned fire inside my heart
I woke up on a dream I can't tolerance it simply
I can't tolerance your love simply
You are very hard love on me
But at the end I must accept it because this is my fate
May be I can't do everything for you that you want
But I have a white romantic heart it's for you only
So please except this heart that it's in your hands
I don't have money but I have this heart
I can give you only the real love in whole your life
But I can't build castles in the air & all suddenly fail down on the ground
This is me my lovely lady
The answer is up to you
I'm waiting for your answer
I became a romantic poet because of you
I became a famous poet & everybody know my love for you how its looks like
I loved you from the first time I met you
You are always in my head & I had never forget you for a while
I will still love you forever in whole my life
To my last day of my life
To my death day
You are my first love & my last love in whole my life forever, forever
Sincerely
Your Lover Forever In Whole Your Life
The Romantic Man
Ali Sabry
Unicorn 11
Where the unlimited, expanding, limiting itself as it expands,
reaches where it can limit itself no further –
there it is; there in its, our, world; there you may see it;
where it could not be more beautiful
and yet be seen; where it could have
no other form, and still have form;
where it is most itself.
And so, where we are most ourself,
when we are most ourself, it’s there;
near; you may see it; you may not; near;
you and it, so close; and where
we are where all the stories tell –
the gate, the door, the mirror, the key that calls the hand,
the undergrowth pushed through, and there –
in the clearing in the woods, it is;
treading on the silent mossy ground,
can white be so transparent?
waiting for nothing and yet there;
where the limited meets the unlimited,
where we know
that whom we always knew we are,
unlimited;
Unicorn.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Awaits
From the day we are born death waits for us
Every second, minute, hour, death comes a little closer
Death waits for us for when we make the wrong mistake
Or death even waits for age to take us off this earth
Death would not be considered a nice fate
But for some with illnesses and dying of old age
It is the close of hurt, and a step into a new chapter
Death can be painful, or peaceful but only fate knows which is for you
poem by Jordan Miller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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