Related quotes: Time within the earth hour...

Other God Was Sleeping

Time within the earth hour
was lengthening.
The other god was sleeping.

Becoming was inviting the death
while climbing.
Frostbite amputates the memory.

Ending without beginning,
I was asking the seeker to stop
searching the answers.

The houses were burning on the road,
silence, had a vertical sound,
no words, no tongue.

Death had tears of blood
riding on the horseback
it was charging on the wandering incense.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

What Ending?

Could not hold it, put it down.
TIME.
The words forget you, pass by.
You remain standing on the brink.
Now, now, where to go?

Time avenges, walks on you
and you cannot catch the breath,
to fill the space between life and death
life will not move, death will not stop.
If not ready to live, death will not look like you
you will not look like death.

World changes every thing,
when seeing stops, listening begins
losing threads of me, between you and me
between me and you.
Something grows out of the mud
a new star.

Begins from end, the ending
of beginning. No ending, no beginning.
Timeless, faceless, nameless
groping in void, to catch the alphabets
Peaks are very frightening
Then where is the end? No end.
This is the end.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Cyclical

Death
The burial
Doom, gloom, ending
A hatred to God
For a treasured lives sending
A friendship lost in its beginning
The passion for life stops without warning
A darkness engulfs the heart, mind and soul
The death is so final in earth's archaic role
The greatness remembered is multiplied ten to fifty fold
They remain watching, helping, and directing you home
Friendship, compassion, a loving hand to hold
There by your side, times untold
The death is earth's ending
But an eternal beginning
For a friendship
Never ending
Beginning.

poem by Jeff Rushton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Death Dies Again

It was death himself
at my swords tip
shocked at his predicament
unaccustomed as he was
to insouciance
and unfamiliar he was
with his own impending ending.

How do you tell Death that
his own death comes?

He said.
'How am I to meet
alls end this way
when I am the very symbol
of the terminus;
the end for all and the other many? '

'Tell me how I am come to this end;
the irony of my own dead death
now near? '

'Death must die' I said
as life itself begins'

'Its not so mysterious Death
to understand.
You are not the end but
my own beginning
and I am life's insistence at the beginning;
that coming to the fore
youth moving to sure
and steady borning.

'That is the cycle of all things, '
I said.
'You die death;
not a sad departing
but my own new beginning.

'How sad' Death said
'I understand your glib reckoning
but my death to me is personal
and while the Great Cycle
to you is mesmerizing
for me it is my fully sensed ending.

Endings are personal and while
loves I've known
have found new loves
it has not
and did not
obliterate
old love's ending.
And that is I.

Old loves die
and their death
is not erased
by new love's
beginning;
they fade
away amid the sad
sighings
we hear at night
when alone
in our beds

in the dark
crying.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Nothing But Death

There are cemeteries that are lonely,
graves full of bones that do not make a sound,
the heart moving through a tunnel,
in it darkness, darkness, darkness,
like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves,
as though we were drowning inside our hearts,
as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul.

And there are corpses,
feet made of cold and sticky clay,
death is inside the bones,
like a barking where there are no dogs,
coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere,
growing in the damp air like tears of rain.

Sometimes I see alone
coffins under sail,
embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair,
with bakers who are as white as angels,
and pensive young girls married to notary publics,
caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead,
the river of dark purple,
moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death,
filled by the sound of death which is silence.

Death arrives among all that sound
like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it,
comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no
finger in it,
comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no
throat.
Nevertheless its steps can be heard
and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree.

I'm not sure, I understand only a little, I can hardly see,
but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets,
of violets that are at home in the earth,
because the face of death is green,
and the look death gives is green,
with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf
and the somber color of embittered winter.

But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom,
lapping the floor, looking for dead bodies,
death is inside the broom,
the broom is the tongue of death looking for corpses,
it is the needle of death looking for thread.

Death is inside the folding cots:
it spends its life sleeping on the slow mattresses,
in the black blankets, and suddenly breathes out:
it blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets,
and the beds go sailing toward a port
where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral.

Translated by Robert Bly

poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

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…'

The Reign 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 death death death death
Death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Passions Heat

A warm inviting fire
Incense burning sweet
Come to me my darling
For a night of passion, heat

Join me on the floor
Where fluffy pillows surround
Crackling pops from the fire
Break silence, and give sound

No words tonight exchanged
Yet heart on heart we speak
Resound judgement spills
Fragrance of lovers leak

Sweet kisses smoother skin
Lips quiver a mating dance
Moistened mouths connect
In Lust, love and romance

A warm inviting fire
Incense burning sweet
Come to me my darling
For a night of passion, heat

poem by Wendy Bureau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Death Alone

There are lone cemeteries,
tombs full of soundless bones,
the heart threading a tunnel,
a dark, dark tunnel :
like a wreck we die to the very core,
as if drowning at the heart
or collapsing inwards from skin to soul.

There are corpses,
clammy slabs for feet,
there is death in the bones,
like a pure sound,
a bark without its dog,
out of certain bells, certain tombs
swelling in this humidity like lament or rain.

I see, when alone at times,
coffins under sail
setting out with the pale dead, women in their dead braids,
bakers as white as angels,
thoughtful girls married to notaries,
coffins ascending the vertical river of the dead,
the wine-dark river to its source,
with their sails swollen with the sound of death,
filled with the silent noise of death.

Death is drawn to sound
like a slipper without a foot, a suit without its wearer,
comes to knock with a ring, stoneless and fingerless,
comes to shout without a mouth, a tongue, without a throat.
Nevertheless its footsteps sound
and its clothes echo, hushed like a tree.

I do not know, I am ignorant, I hardly see
but it seems to me that its song has the colour of wet violets,
violets well used to the earth,
since the face of death is green,
and the gaze of death green
with the etched moisture of a violet's leaf
and its grave colour of exasperated winter.

But death goes about the earth also, riding a broom
lapping the ground in search of the dead -
death is in the broom,
it is the tongue of death looking for the dead,
the needle of death looking for the thread.

Death lies in our beds :
in the lazy mattresses, the black blankets,
lives a full stretch and then suddenly blows,
blows sound unknown filling out the sheets
and there are beds sailing into a harbour
where death is waiting, dressed as an admiral.

poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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.

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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.

The March of Death

Death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Sound Of Silence....

it speaks no words,
yet they fall on the soul..
quietly falls on the heart so heavy,
pain wrapped, the words of silence....

filth and grime,
pure and honest,
the words do a medley of sorts,
ever felt the sound of silence..

the world pulls down,
the dust seems sticking,
tears entrapped in the soul,
commotion in the worldly shows.

what's life? regret, remorse..
the dull light always burning,
resonating from inside,
try listening, the sound of silence...

the voice screams,
it brings the truth,
momentarily, the pain halts,
with the tasting of the salt.

ironical the world is,
contradiction filled...
sounds stupid, but true,
the sound of silence...

befriend silence,
redemption u find...
the lost answers,
u will find.

sound, so enthralling,
sound, so enigmatic..
yet so healing, , ,
the sound of silence..

poem by Nupur Singhal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

On the Same Road...

that night i passed by the road
leading to the house where i live,

someone died on the road
i did not mind i am 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 leaving cannot really be lucky

everyday we are dying
we simply have to wait for that fate
ful time
it is our turn we do not have to anticipate it
every hour
a part of us dies

it is enough sharing this moments of death
and so i said
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

All the Hills and Vales Along

All the hills and vales along
Earth is bursting into song,
And the singers are the chaps
Who are going to die perhaps.
O sing, marching men,
Till the valleys ring again.
Give your gladness to earth's keeping,
So be glad, when you are sleeping.

Cast away regret and rue,
Think what you are marching to.
Little live, great pass.
Jesus Christ and Barabbas
Were found the same day.
This died, that went his way.
So sing with joyful breath,
For why, you are going to death.
Teeming earth will surely store
All the gladness that you pour.

Earth that never doubts nor fears,
Earth that knows of death, not tears,
Earth that bore with joyful ease
Hemlock for Socrates,
Earth that blossomed and was glad
'Neath the cross that Christ had,
Shall rejoice and blossom too
When the bullet reaches you.
Wherefore, men marching
On the road to death, sing!
Pour your gladness on earth's head,
So be merry, so be dead.

From the hills and valleys earth
Shouts back the sound of mirth,
Tramp of feet and lilt of sing
Ringing all the road along.
All the music of their going,
Ringing swinging glad song-throwing,
Earth will echo still, when foot
Lies numb and voice mute.
On, marching men, on
To the gates of death with song.
Sow your gladness for earth's reaping,
So you may be glad, though sleeping.
Strew your gladness on earth's bed,
So be merry, so be dead.

poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Route March

Cast away regret and rue,
Think what you are marching to,
Little live, great pass.
Jesus Christ and Barabbas
Were found the same day.
This died, that, went his way.
So sing with joyful breath.
For why, you are going to death.
Teeming earth will surely store
All the gladness that you pour.

Earth that never doubts nor fears
Earth that knows of death, not tears,
Earth that bore with joyful ease
Hemlock for Socrates,
Earth that blossomed and was glad
'Neath the cross that Christ had,
Shall rejoice and blossom too
When the bullet reaches you.
Wherefore, men marching
On the road to death, sing!
Pour gladness on earth's head,
So be merry, so be dead.

From the hills and valleys earth
Shouts back the sound of mirth,
Tramp of feet and lilt of song
Ringing all the road along.
All the music of their going,
Ringing swinging glad song-throwing,
Earth will echo still, when foot
Lies numb and voice mute.
On marching men, on
To the gates of death with song.
Sow your gladness for earth's reaping,
So you may be glad though sleeping.
Strew your gladness on earth's bed,
So be merry, so be dead.

poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Bow Before My Death

I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
He takes my hand,
And holds me close,
Death embraces me,
He says the time has come,
Beginning now meets end,
He says the fires taken me,
And now it's time to walk,
Walk the path of fates sweet song.

I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
The fires stripped me of my sins,
Humility my pride,
Now death guides me through the dark,
And speaks to me kind words,
'The pain has stopped,
It won't come back,
Your senses now are cleansed,
The soul has been washed clean',
He says the end is pleasure.

I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
Death's a man clothed in blue jeans,
A white shirt stained with blood,
Death holds a knife,
Death slits my throat,
Death is the end of my beginning.

I lie beneath the flame this night.

I bow before my death.

poem by Holly Heron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Him

Fire burns,
In his heart.
He seeks only death,
And blood.
I seek death,
And I also,
Kill.

He thinks himself,
Strong and handsome.
He thinks himself,
Brave and smart.
He thinks himself,
Tall and fierce.
He thinks himself,
Killer and fighter.

I think of him,
Weak and hidious.
I think of him,
Frightened and dumb.
I think of him,
Short and cowardly.
I think of him,
Helpless and food.

I am stronger,
Braver,
Smarter,
Taller,
Fiecer,
And blood seeker.

He is nothing,
But lies.
I am nothing,
But a blood seeker,
And killer.

poem by Dragon Crenshaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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.’

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

You Want To Help Death Take You Earlier

you want death to take you earlier
you take in fat and salt and sugar
in extreme doses, you worry a lot, you drink
vodka and tequila
you quarrel with everyone
how you wish this angry someones shoots you to death
with his bullet
you sleep late you take in drugs
to finish you off
sometimes you even start to stop breathing
you want to wake up one morning and walk straight to the sea
without looking back
you like to imagine how is it
if you do it on the 30th floor of the building
you are crazy
you abuse yourself
despite your talent your gift in thoughts
your capacity for good

you want to die but death has been patient with you
biting its tongue
closing its mouth unpronouncing on you

there will be time
death says there will come a time
when death shall come
and then you run away because at that moment
you still do not want to die
and then death takes its revenge
on the hush of the wind
without any warning or sound

death shall take you

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

En.Citatepedia®.ro

Other God Was Sleeping

Related quotes

What Ending?

Cyclical

Death Dies Again

Nothing But Death

Meaning of Death

It's Death Again

Passions Heat

Death Alone

A Fresh Endeavour

Disingenuousness

The Sound Of Silence....

On the Same Road...

Our Numbness Along the Road Leading to Our Destiny

All the Hills and Vales Along

Route March

Bow Before My Death

Him

Death, Inevitable Death

You Want To Help Death Take You Earlier

Death part 1

En.Citatepedia^®.ro