Poor Death
Rich living is nullified
By poor death where you’re
A left over, with no hope
Of being thought of after death.
(13.03.2011)
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
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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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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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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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Punishment
There never really was a place of sanctity
For you, the mortal entity.
You thought you had prosperity,
The while you thrived and were.
Angels don't exist, you see.
You lived without a guarantee
Atop your brutal Earth.
Still, you had a birth.
And whither now, your crying whim -?
Answered by a tearing limb-?
Are you contrite; your valour slim?
And will He care...?
'Tis down to Him.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter,2009
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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21 - Victorian Poverty
A period of extreme poverty of the lower working classes
As they worked to the death the rich sat politely on their arses
London’s poor tried to scrape a living doing jobs the devil created
As the rich sat at their windows laughing at the pitiful souls they hated
The poor would have sooner died than enter the poor houses control
As it was not fit to harbor a single living human soul
Small boys were used to clean narrow sooted chimneys
While in the coal mines children worked on their hands and knees
Although this golden age pioneered many useful inventions
Children privileged to go to school were whipped instead of detentions
And as the poor worked for a life at every waking hour
The rich covered their stench with perfume and wild flowers
The poor had nothing and hardly anything to eat
While the rich enjoyed tea and honey and sherbet lemon sweets
In Victorian London the poor just lived and died
The rich never really noticed the rich never really cried
A period of extreme poverty of the lower working classes
As they worked to the death the rich sat politely on their asses
poem by Nicola Burkett
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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
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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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
Death death
Death death death
Death death death death
Death death death death death
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Death death death death
Death death death
Death death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Death
Oh death oh death why are you here?
am coming to get you and take you away
Oh death oh death why take me?
you cry of pain and you living in darkness
oh death oh death why now why now?
a baby is crying and you are shuffing
oh death oh death plz don't take me!
am sorry am sorry i have to take you
oh death oh death.............................
poem by Ishmeal Balfour
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Truth Of Life!
Oh! The great death, the grand gift of life
Knows not the young or old, rich or poor
Visits all, acts as double edged knife
Can take the body, soul never!
None desires death, but that death spares none
For the good or bad, read or unread
Death brings pain and grief, sure gives not fun
None on earth wants death, that comes unsaid!
Man with wealth ever in fear of death
Men sans wealth with love for kith and kin
All in constant fear and worry
Over death none has control any!
Truth of life is certainty of death
Do thy duty, face death bold on earth!
poem by Subbaraman N V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death of the life
Death is not to be laughed at,
Nor cried at,
Death it is strong,
But will give up,
Death is the soul,
To every living creature,
Death well be in every story,
As life goes on,
Death is more then what we can handle,
But we live to die,
Death well wait,
Till it is yours turn,
Death is now my nightmares,
And in your too,
Do not run from death,
For it well get you worst,
And
Death is forever,
And never.
poem by Anna Reeves
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Ultimate Fairness
Death comes to all, old or young,
Sick or healthy, rich or poor, strong or weak.
Death comes to us all, ready or not.
I heard death is the ultimate fairness because no matter who you are,
Death comes to all.
So when he comes for me, whether I am ready or not,
I will walk with him until I go to the Pearly Gates
And enter Eternal Life.
poem by Zach Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
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Death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The poor rich
Who is poor rich? Who is rich poor?
A lone duck among swans is poor rich.
A lone swan among ducks is rich poor.
Each circle has either of one in it.
30.05.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Death, Death And Death
I see the death everyday
Death in relations
Death in religion and faith
Death of man in man
Everyday, everywhere, every moment
Death, death and death.
I experience the death around me
Millions and billions of ceremonies
The smoke on maps of mankind
Death in temple and streets
Death in clubs and parties
Death, death and death.
I foresee the death of humanity
Harassment, discrimination and hatred
Death in purity and sacredness
Death in broken mirrors and home
Death in king, death in masses
Death, death and death.
poem by Abhimanyu Kumar.s
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He Embraced Death
He embraced Death,
Death, the thought of which,
Made men shiver and abhor it,
Death, which had the reputation,
Of being the ultimate victor,
Death, which could humble,
Even the mightiest.
He embraced Death,
Death, which laughed,
Even at the most robust of men,
Death, which mocked every birth,
Knowing that it would overcome,
Death, which thought,
That it had no challenger.
He embraced Death,
Death, which was mean,
And humiliating in its quest,
Ravaging some of its prey,
Till it gained infinite pleasure,
Death, which never would,
Accept ‘no’ from man or beast.
Yes, He embraced Death,
And took it by the throat,
Nailed it to the Cross,
Till Death in pain cried out,
To the Author of Life,
'You are the Victor'
And Victors will be they who believe in you.
poem by Caleb Jones
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Rich and Poor
In me a sense has felt like each,
One causes others to wonder of strange beliefs,
In a feeding are the poor,
Poor are the opposite of the Rich.
In this side of the valley,
The Rich are better at living,
In opposition to the laughter
Of the Poor.
Poor is not Rich,
And Rich carries no Wealth
Of Heavenly Times.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Symptom of death?
A thought of death had never occurred
Till I left my service.
A thought of death has never departed
Since I left my service.
Things loosening and values flung,
Aren’t I hastening to death?
08.05.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Series 5 - Death IS
Death is the irreversible cessation of life.
Death is a complete change in the status of a living entity.
Death is a change of essential characteristics.
Death IS, Death WAS, Death WILL BE,
for Death IS Death, as an end to itself.
poem by Ciaran Quirke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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