A Grave Reminder
The green hills are drinking
the clouds,
keep pouring out
the scented breath.
In capsuled hour the wind was its own rival.
A slant on confessional suicide:
the charm obliterates the solitude.
A gray shower of thoughts outside the window,
I forget, I remember in coyness
my sparks are humming.
The plundered land
by advancing columns of hunger
tosses around the dead lips of tropical
hues.
The fear demands learning,
finding the uninvited death
in the manipulated existence.
poem by Satish Verma
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Her Bliss
Death is in the flower's heart –
Why to cry for life of any petal?
Death in purple ink of weary pens
Betrays the written yearnings
On her scented paper.
Death is laughing in her cry;
Her broken heart forlorn upon the sleeve.
Death ignores the plight of any purity –
He doesn’t care or seem to be aware of
What her dewy eye desires,
For Death beckoned:
'Embrace the jar! '
And yes, she did –
For Death, of course.
After all, no other man would
Open up her hand and bid her with a kiss,
So Death became her bliss.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sign Of Solitude
GN OF SOLITUDE
A lugubrious tree high above the lot,
Yearning for an embrace tight,
It is a sign of solitude.
From the leafy world of forest deep,
A fluttery leaf falls when ripe,
It is a sign of solitude.
A scarlet flower shakes its head
But the wind dooms a petal dead,
It `s a sign of solitude.
A flock of birds among the clouds,
Finding all a bliss to the eyes,
A hunter lurks below on earth,
Aims one down for a wholesome feast,
That is a sign of solitude.
Friendship, kinship and lover's bliss,
Frizzles to mud at death's one kiss.
Jocund jolly friendly men,
Shrinks to viscid pit alone.
So death is a sign of solitude.
Glorious sun who makes us gay,
Is a loner in the Milky Way?
So HE is a sign of solitude.
poem by Sheela Devi
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I Cant Forget
i remember us
should i forget?
i remember your eyes
should i forget?
i remember your touch
should i forget?
i remember your voice
should i forget?
i remember your face
should i forget?
i remember your care
should i forget?
i remember your feelings
should i forget?
i remember your personality :)
should i forget?
i remember my thoughts of you
i cant forget, should i forget?
i remember the good times with you
i cant forget, should i forget?
i remember the comfort from you
i cant forget, should i forget?
i remember my love for you
i cant forget, i wont ever forget!
poem by Samantha Duran
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Suicide Suicide Suicide
Suicide is wishing I were dead
suicide is deep in my head,
suicide thoughts are cutting my wrists burning my ankles,
suicide my last tear dry, suicide.
I’m so done with this days I cry,
last tear dry suicide, suicide, suicide,
deep in my head suicide is because of my voices in my head,
suicide is the blur I see, suicide, is a feeling of someone there,
suicide suicide suicide,
now I’m almost dead turn out the lights and say goodnight
poem by Jessica Lee Workman
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Clouds
The clouds as I see them, rising
urgently, roseate in the
mounting of somber power
surging in evening haste over
roofs and hermetic
grim walls—
Last night
As if death had lit a pale light
in your flesh, your flesh
was cold to my touch, or not cold
but cool, cooling, as if the last traces
of warmth were still fading in you.
My thigh burned in cold fear where
yours touched it.
But I forced to mind my vision of a sky
close and enclosed, unlike the space in which these clouds move—
a sky of gray mist it appeared—
and how looking intently at it we saw
its gray was not gray but a milky white
in which radiant traces of opal greens,
fiery blues, gleamed, faded, gleamed again,
and how only then, seeing the color in the gray,
a field sprang into sight, extending
between where we stood and the horizon,
a field of freshest deep spiring grass
starred with dandelions,
green and gold
gold and green alternating in closewoven
chords, madrigal field.
Is death’s chill that visited our bed
other than what it seemed, is it
a gray to be watched keenly?
Wiping my glasses and leaning westward,
clearing my mind of the day’s mist and leaning
into myself to see
the colors of truth
I watch the clouds as I see them
in pomp advancing, pursuing
the fallen sun.
poem by Denise Levertov
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If I Could But Forget
If I could but forget
The fullness of those first sweet days,
When you burst sun-like thro' the haze
Of unacquaintance, on my sight,
And made the wet, gray day seem bright
While clouds themselves grew fair to see.
And since, no day is gray or wet
But all the scene comes back to me,
If I could but forget.
If I could but forget
How your dusk eyes look into mine,
And how I thrilled as with strong wine
Beneath your touch; while sped amain
The quickened stream thro' ev'ry vein;
How near my breath fell to a gasp,
When for a space our fingers met
In one electric vibrant clasp,
If I could but forget.
If I could but forget
The months of passion and of pain,
And all that followed in their train--
Rebellious thoughts that would arise,
Rebellious tears that dimmed mine eyes,
The prayers that I might set love's fire
Aflame within your bosom yet--
The death at last of that desire--
If I could but forget.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Sea Slant
On up the sea slant,
On up the horizon,
The ship limps.
The bone of her nose fog-gray,
The heart of her sea-strong,
She came a long way,
She goes a long way.
On up the sea slant,
On up the horizon,
She limps sea-strong, fog-gray
She is a green-lit night gray.
She comes and goes in sea-fog.
Up the horizon slant she limps.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Suicide Suicide Suicide
Suicide is wishing I were dead
suicide is deep in my head,
suicide thoughts are cutting my wrists burning my ankles,
suicide my last tear dry, suicide.
I’m so done with this days I cry,
last tear dry suicide, suicide, suicide,
deep in my head suicide is because of my voices in my head,
suicide is the blur I see, suicide, is a feeling of someone there,
suicide suicide suicide,
now I’m almost dead turn out the lights and say goodnight
Jessica Lee Workman
poem by Jessica lee Workman
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Guess Me
obliquely from under cosmic eyelids
is beating by eyes sneer of pupils
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
is bringing the dislike of rays in the gift
the silver October chilled the night
with autumn breath hardening
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
the bare limbs of trees peeping
it is hard to forget these premonitions
what else are living, it ache with memory
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
greedy nature with one's dream
bad charm of the stifling hour
with billowy cloud are heaving our dreams
is deepening the bottom of the solitude still
the question or you it really is you
if this way it is... guess me
where the stream is a green grenade
there with white flower my dream are dreaming
the of the reconciliation with oneself and with world
if this way is... guess me...
----
written - 2005-01-26 23: 50: 42
translated - 2009-05-12 20: 15
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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When Man Writes His Life Away
when sadness comes like
an uninvited guests
and when it stays longer
than you can
have it
just be silent
for silence are like seeds
that sprout on the little rains of
your patience
to grow the flowers of hope
when man writes his life away
overwhelmed by so much sorrow
God steps by the door
waits for you
to open it and then when this is done
God embraces you
the sun shines by the window of your house
the birds chirp again on the surrounding trees
the clouds of baby blue
cover the grasses as green as the pines
scented as perfumes
of your love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter Rainy Day
It is still raining
It is pouring rain
It is chilly and windy
It is winter day
The thick dark clouds
hanging over the sky
The gloom fills the air
You hear the humming sound
of falling rain
It is winter day
The sun behind the clouds
have shied and disappeared
The blue sky have been
painted gray
It is winter day
Winter is magical time of the year
When nature sheds it’s tears
Filling us with emotions
Bringing water
to the land and lakes
Just a reason we thank
The winter rainy day
poem by Sherif Monem
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One Saturday Morning At The Mountain Top Inside The House
it is raining outside
it is the habitualness of the image that flows inside us
green grass and rolling hills and clouds a drifting
the sound of rain like footsteps of children playing under the shower from heaven
i sit upon a chair looking outside
i am not thinking about anything simply watching the rain
the green grass
the trees the sea and the horizon that extends more than what my eyes can see
more than what i can contain
this empty bowl with a wide mouth open
this hollowness that cannot speak because it does not have the exact words
to say
it seems to me that the correct existence that fills this void is nothing
but the silence of the trees, the grass, the hills and the far away seas
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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 death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Suicide Countdown.
suicide, suicide i wish i was dead.
suicide, suicide oh how much my wrists have bled.
suicide, suicide were almost there.
suicide, suicide no more skin, the blade will tear.
suicide, suicide we have one week.
suicide, suicide so filled with relief, i cannot speak.
seven days, suicide; until i die.
six days, suicide; no longer will i cry.
five days, suicide; ooh i cant wait.
four days, suicide; until i meet my fate.
three days, suicide; till my last word is said.
two days, suicide; twenty four hours till im dead.
one day, suicide; till night tears through dawn.
today, suicide; i am dead, i am gone.
{ some Tiddely Winks person, copied and pasted my poem on their profile. I WROTE THIS, IT ANGERS ME SAVAGELY TO THINK SOMEONE TOOK MY POEM.! !
poem by Marissa E '
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My Thoughts Of Suicide
Here I sit and write this poem
Thinking of all I love and all I hate
Thoughts of suicide thinking its my fate
I think of all the times I used to laugh
And now I wish I'd just die
How did so much misery come in to my life
And now all I have are thoughts of suicide
Crying every night is not the way to live
Heck I'm still a kid
I should be out hanging with all my friends
But these thoughts of suicide haunt my head
Will they care when I am gone
When nothings left expect my thoughts
And this small poem telling everyone
I will be no more in about an hour
Don't try to save me
Just save your tears
Nothing can stop me
Because i have thoughts of suicide
Heres to the end my dear friend
I hope you live life through
This is the end to this girls life
And all her thoughts to boot
Nothing there but my thoughts my secret thoughts of suicide
poem by Danielle Arsuaga
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In Solitude
A glass of red wine spent
Recalling life's events
Crowded in my skin
In Solitude
Relishing a melody of lament
Drifting through my window
Gliding in uninvited
In solitude
Last night I cried out loud
For the sake of hearing a sound
Though I did not hear me
In solitude
Gawking at my naked fear
Of living a life unseen
Yearning to belong
In solitude
I woke up in the evening
Read a book out loud
My voice wavering
In Solitude
As the heroine yearned
In an isolated crowd
To be loved
In solitude
I walked around naked
In my new home
My skin in flames
In solitude
Every molecule of air
Brushing against me
Scorched in vain
In solitude
It was raining that morn
When I came to life
My throat stinging
In solitude
I see no soul
I hear no breathing
I smell no skin
In solitude
I mourn not waking up
Next to my beloved
To warm my frozen hind
In solitude
Yet, I feel no cold
And life goes on
As I bury myself
In solitude
poem by Deva De Silva
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All Souls
I
A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
II
Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.
III
And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
IV
And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.
V
Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'
VI
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
VII
And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
poem by Edith Wharton
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Oh, who is afraid of life
Oh, who is afraid of life
The passion the sorrow and the strife?
In front of my window the multitudes are asleep
Sheltered so easily in their beds
Happy in their sleep as if they were dead
Yet I am alone and not dead
I wish not to lie in bed
Dead, dead, dead
Dead without any company
Here alone on my bed
with all these gracious thoughts about the world
These thoughts are fed by the sun
O life there is about you
This deep sense of sweet being
I would not have been without you here
Yet, you without me would have been the same
So let me stay, and stay more with you
Sweetness, joy, breath and rebirth
Keep away the death
copy rights 2010
Suicide Kiss
Suicide kiss, kiss my life away
because its my last chance to live for another day
your kiss taste like razor blades when you put your lips near me
it cuts me into sadness when the time I feel lonely
please suicide kiss just one more kiss and this could end
I promise you this will be a last passionate kiss for us to spend
spend in time in hell where I could just fall into her spell
suicide kiss your last kiss has plunge me into my death
because the only thing you have ever given me is your one last breath
the one last breath that shall kiss her to death
poem by Andrew Tom
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Dear suicide
Dear suicide
Why I ‘am alive?
Suicide suicide
Why is so sad?
A lot of pain in my life
Suicide suicide
My heart is so black
Full of pain and sadness
Suicide suicide
My thoughts were so nice
But now I’m so sad
Suicide suicide
I always cry, don’t hurt me again
I just want to be free and fly
Suicide suicide
I don’t want to cry anymore
All I want is fly in the sky
Suicide suicide
The end is coming for me
The beginning of the end of my life
Suicide suicide
Just let me rest in peace
And never come back
Suicide suicide
Time to go
I say goodbye
Suicide suicide
Thanks for listened to me
I’ll see you in my new life
Suicide suicide
Adios
Ciao
Goodbye.
poem by Alex Rodriguez
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