Ode to death!
Ode to death
In your eyes, I wither old,
Bade farewell to old, germinate to new
Yesterday never comes, today can’t hold
Every man desire to live long
But no man wishes to be old
Once ye are old, thou age cannot be sold
Softness of wrinkle feels the age
There left a little flapping page
Where we shall sow some poem
Once they would read my epigrams
Through eyes do blur and ear go deaf?
Body weak, heart so young
Nodded besides the fireside heaven
Shelter nooks and corner
Those trembling hands hobble to beg
And as it reaches each delicious ending
Every one shall shed tear thy grave
Let me pen a line of glorious tone
Written a plaintive song
Tis not content so soon to be alone
Journey of death cannot be wrong
A poem by, KEZANG DAWA (Driver)
BHUTAN POWER CORPORATION LIMITED
SAMDRUPJONGKHAR.BHUTAN
Email-kezang [email protected]
poem by Kezang Dawa
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Related quotes
This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
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The Poem That Perhaps Never Should Have Been Written
THE POEM THAT PERHAPS NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
Not the poem of yesterday
Nor the poem of tomorrow
But the poem of today-
What gives life meaning now.
Not the poem as it is read
But the poem as it is written.
Not the certain poem
But the poem that does not know
If it truly is a poem.
The poem that gives hope only when it is written-
The lesser poem-
The poem that perhaps never should have been written.
The poem I am writing now,
Perhaps for myself alone
The lesser poem
The poem that perhaps should never have been at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem To Be Heard
A poem to be held
a poem to be fed, with words stronger than the ancient
spirits.
Ti's a poem to be read by all.
A poem that beats the heat of temptation away.
It's power in every single word attracts the moonlight.
A poem, a light in the dark wilderness.
A poem that is just needed and leaves the audience
speechless.
A poem that comforts a sad soul.
Read to me a poem
when I'm cold.
Read it to me till I'm old.
When I'm heart broken, a poem, a love, I'd want.
A poem, a victory through lives endless battle.
A poem an epistle to mine heart, and every written word
in it is heard.
A poem, about royalty, about Kings and Queens
and how they live in luxury.
A poem, a song about sweet heavens.
Read me a poem and slow my heart beat down.
A poem with a tasty flavor, I'd want to hear.
Read me a poem that explains how Nelson Mandela
conquered his fears.
A poem that can describe how Martin Luther Kings
felt when he fought for freedom.
I long to hear it,
Therefor read me a poem,
to be heard.
poem by Marlene Rashidi
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You Should Have Finished His Unfinished Poem
the poem was panting
when he left it, it was wounded and blood
flowed from the veins
of its own words
the poem was choking
and you pity it
on its last breath
it was saying
i know you did not love me
but i still love you
you should have saved the poem
at least from the
death he himself inflicted
by finishing it because
if you don't
you know what i can do
under said circumstances
i'll have to finish it myself,
i will put
the question mark
and it will always be
open and endless
in fact, with a question
as an ending
that poem becomes
a line
ad aeternum like a star on its
journey,
never ending
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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By the end of this...
By the end of this poem you will love death
because death is a figure of speech
as heaven and hell
to all that believe
they will be deceived
By the end of this stanza you will love death
you don't see death
he sees you
and who am I to say he?
he, she I don't know
My the end of this line you will love death
Death is your friend
when you are tired and sad
you can summon him
with the flick of a knife
by the end of this word you will love death
death is beautiful
don't deal with the pain
don't deny the beauty
don't sacrifice your life to living
something so insignificant
your ego will kill your pride
Now comes the truth
it was coming all along
Now at the end of this poem
...You love death
poem by Lady Viola Of The Grave
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For a Lost Poem
Dedicated to the poem 'Moon Light' that was written a few years back.
For a Lost Poem
A poem written long ago –
disappeared on the face of the earth
as if it never existed – but somewhere
beyond this skyline it did;
where the moon sits, and shines its light –
this poem has been erased from history,
from where it was put into storage.
Oh poem, I feel a loss for you!
Where have you gone? Oh where have you gone?
Moon Light, once many people read,
and praised me for such delicacy,
now she is gone too.
As if death has to come with:
the darkening sky, oh ye poem –
ye selfless poem come back and
let the light shine upon you.
A poem has gone, but where?
poem by Celine Berghmans
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Life Art
Life Art
I want to write you a poem.
One that contains no verses
no words
how long it will be
I cannot tell.
It will be a poem that you can see through
yet it will shade you from the sun
a simple lyric
as complex as a crossword
I want it to be something
that you carry through your day
every day
I don’t know if I can write that poem
Or if indeed that poem can be written at all
So instead I am with you
Of you
And slowly together
we are writing our very own poem
Not on a page
Or in a lost notebook
But in the café
and in the street
At a table
In our bed
Every day we add another line
another image
another verse
and I know that with every word that we write
I want it to be the longest poem
That has ever been written.
poem by Andy Houlihan
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I Wrote A Poem Yesterday/ Can I Write A Poem Today?
I WROTE A POEM YESTERDAY/ CAN I WRITE A POEM TODAY?
I wrote a poem yesterday
Can I write a poem today?
Somehow all the poems of yesterday
Are not as needed
As a single small poem of today.
To have been alive even in the deepest way
Is not necessarily to be alive now.
These lines are my lifelines for the moment
Soon I will be gone
And there will come a day
When no poem will be written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Will The Poem Written Today/ Read Well Tomorrow?
WILL THE POEM WRITTEN TODAY/ READ WELL TOMORROW?
Will the poem written today
Read well tomorrow?
Will what seems so right now
Last beyond the time of its being said?
Or am I a poet of the present moment only
Who in the saying believes in what is said
And who fails in the long – term reflection?
What will remain of all my ‘presents’
And all those times of writing
And feeling it is true?
Years from now
Long after I will be able to read any poem
Will these lines mean anything
To anyone?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Faves And Yuks
and some say
oh that’s my favourite ever poem
my aunt my uncle my teacher read it
to me when I was twelve
and the more I read it
the more true it is and now
I’m older I can say it off by heart
as if the poem knows my heart
and some say
that poem yuk I really really hate it
the more people said to me
that’s a great poem
the more I hated it
now if I see it
in an anthology
I skip the page quickly
I really really hate it
and I wonder if
the more people read a poem
do they take a bit of its power into themselves
so it no longer has quite that surprise it had
or the more people read that poem
the more they add to it
so it has the power
to surprise more people
or do poems
like a rest from time to time
like that old toy in
your grandparents’ attic
which so surprised you
that Jack-in-a-box
with a face like
Pushkin
or Langston Hughes
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The World Is a Poem
Scrutinize around you and see poem
See poem in the air
See poem in the sky
See poem in the sea
See poem in plants
See poem in man
See poem from man
See poem in his eyes
See poem in his love
See poem in life
See poem in death…
Now what is a poem?
Poem is nature
Nature is the world
And The world is a poem.
poem by Chinonso Uche
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A PÆan
How shall the burial rite be read?
The solemn song be sung ?
The requiem for the loveliest dead,
That ever died so young?
II.
Her friends are gazing on her,
And on her gaudy bier,
And weep ! - oh! to dishonor
Dead beauty with a tear!
III.
They loved her for her wealth -
And they hated her for her pride -
But she grew in feeble health,
And they love her - that she died.
IV.
They tell me (while they speak
Of her 'costly broider'd pall')
That my voice is growing weak -
That I should not sing at all -
V.
Or that my tone should be
Tun'd to such solemn song
So mournfully - so mournfully,
That the dead may feel no wrong.
VI.
But she is gone above,
With young Hope at her side,
And I am drunk with love
Of the dead, who is my bride. -
VII.
Of the dead - dead who lies
All perfum'd there,
With the death upon her eyes,
And the life upon her hair.
VIII.
Thus on the coffin loud and long
I strike - the murmur sent
Through the grey chambers to my song,
Shall be the accompaniment.
IX.
Thou died'st in thy life's June -
But thou did'st not die too fair:
Thou did'st not die too soon,
Nor with too calm an air.
X.
From more than fiends on earth,
Thy life and love are riven,
To join the untainted mirth
Of more than thrones in heaven -
XII.
Therefore, to thee this night
I will no requiem raise,
But waft thee on thy flight,
With a Pæan of old days.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Scanning
Scan the societyby the power of poem
Let the rare disease of humanity go.
One or two line of live poem is enough
And it save the human race from disorders.
Please read read read and read the poem
Be a perfect man of highest order.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Not The Poem Of Yesterday
NOT THE POEM OF YESTERDAY
Not the poem of yesterday
But the poem of today-
Not what tomorrow will bring
But what I can write now.
So I live
Poem by poem
Day by day
Without even taking the time to forget.
The writer is not the best reader of his poems-
So I hope.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Lifeless Poem
This poem has no heart
For it can not be restart
THis poem has no soul
It has left a big hole
This poem has no voice
Bit it has no choice
This poem has no bones
can it be its out of stones
This poem has no head
There for it cant be read
This peom has no eyes
So you cant hear its loud cries
poem by Marlena Steiner
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If You Really Want To
You say youre all alone,
And after all the changes youve been through today
You can use a little tenderness, right now
Ok, Ive been alone,
And I can understand the way you feel tonight
Maybe together we can charge it all right now
I can tell by the look in your tear-filled eyes
You need somebody you can hold onto
If you really want to, Id love to hold you
If you really want to, then Id love to be the body that you hold onto
You say, he broke your heart,
He left you crying, but he did not set you free
And now you feel like you can never love again
Ok, so let me know,
Its up to you how long you let his memory stay
And do you really wanna carry on this way
I can tell by the look in your tear-filled eyes
You need somebody you can hold onto
If you really want to, Id love to hold you
If you really want to, then Id love to be the body that you hold onto
If you really want to, if you really want to,
Then I really cant deny you
So many things you need to know, so many left to say
But you mean more than words I know,
I can help you chase the pain away
I can tell by the look in your tear-filled eyes
You need somebody you can hold onto
If you really want to, if you really want to
If you really want to, then Id love to be the body that you hold onto
If you really want to, if you really want to,
Then I really cant deny you
If you really want to, if you really want to
If you really want to... (to fade)
(chorus repeats out)
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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