Ostriching
ostriching gets quite exhausting
i wonder if it's genetic
she cleans the mirror, makes the bed
an avoidance epidemic
she cannot see her balding head
denial clouds her senses
the house is neat, the baby's fed
she's built herself some fences
and I must deal with It instead
alone, she's busy shopping
blond curly hair has long been shed
the path of Death will not be stopping
her body's frail
her face is pale
but she's still buried in the sand
tears cascade my tired cheeks
i hold tight her stilling hand
death now perched at the head of her bed
a coldness whispers through the room
she never thought to say goodbye
my mother never knew
poem by Tzipora Knock
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Related quotes
Build For Pain
DEATH IS WIND AND I BREATH IT IF SOMEONE FORCES ME 2 OR IF IM TIRED OF LIFE MYSELF.
PAIN + PAIN IS DEATH
MISERY + UNHAPPINESS IS SORROW
SORROW + PAIN IS TEARS
AND I SHED SO MANY FOR PEERS
THAT GOES DOWN THE PATH TO
WHEN DEATH THEY DODGE
TO WHERE SOME STRIKES WITH
VENGENCE AND LEAVE US DEAD IN THE
STREETS OF OUR HEARTS
DEATH SHED NO TEARS OF ITS OWN
BUT IF I HAVE TO HOLD MY BREATH TO KEEP
DEATH AWAY FROM ME I WONT BECAUSE
IM ALREADY BUILT FOR PAIN
poem by Used2Pain mopbfnl2d
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Getting Naked
what makes it interesting?
it is the seldom way of showing
what is there
it does not happen everyday
and that is it, but
i imagine if we were born less
the shame and the malice
there is actually nothing there
but humanity and the coldness
of society
there is no lust in there
but just our own shape and skin
and bones wrapped so tenderly
with care
love and understanding is there
only when
we shed off the crude manners
of our built-in civilization who for long
in the pretense of religion
and governance
have taken us away from our very own nature
the death of candidness
the scourge of expensive dresses
once i go naked inside my room
and look closely at my body in the human-sized mirror
this is reality i proclaim to my senses
there is nothing lewd in my belly
there is love in my navel
there is this kingdom of love
hidden inside my guts
tomorrow i will be honest
i will wear no masks
no clothes
i will shed off the name that they gave me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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
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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
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Undercover Girl
Rebel inside
She's always in disguise
Destined to kill
What she thought was real
Yeah she's a high-class baby
With some attitude
She'S wicked and wild
And makes you go blind and grind
She's undercover girl
That's all she's got
She's taking you high
And makes your heartbeat stop
She's undercover girl
That's all she's got
She's making you fly
And head go round and round
She's undercover girl
Uptown angel
Fancy neighbourhood
Overprotected
Always knew what's good
Now she has black boots
And the long blond hair
She steps in the room
And men turn to lousy fools
song performed by by Vanilla Ninja
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Superwoman
Mary wants to be a superwoman
But is that really in her head
But i just want to live each day to love her
For what she is
Mary wants to be another movie star
But is that really in her mind
And all the things she wants to be
She needs to leave behind
But, very well, i believe i know you-very well
Wish that you knew me too-very well
And i think i can deal with everything going through your head
Very well, and i think i can face-very well
Wish that you knew me too-very well
And i think i can cope with everything going through your head
Mary wants to be a superwoman
And try to boss the bull around
But does she really think that she will get by with a dream
My woman want to be a superwoman
And i just had to say good-bye
Because i can't spend all my hours start to cry
But, very well, i believe i know you
Very well wish that you knew me too
Very well, and i think i can deal with everything going through your head
Very well, think that i know you too
Very well, wish you knew me like i know you
Very well, but i think i can deal with everything going through your head
Your filthy head
Very well, dum dum da, dum dum da
Very well, wish you knew me too
Very well, and i wish i could think of everything going through your head
Very well, dum dum da, dum da, dum da
Dum dum da, dum da, very well
And i think i can deal with everything going through your head
When the summer came you were not around
Now the summer's gone and love cannot be found
Where were you when i needed you-last winter, my love?
When the winter came you went further south
Parting from love's nest, leaving me in doubt
Where are you when i need you, like right now?
Our love is at an end
But you say now you have changed
But tomorrow will reflect love's past
When the winter came you were not around
Through the bitter winds love could not be found
Where were you when i needed you, last winter, my love?
Oh i need you baby, i need you baby
Our love is at an end
But you say now you have changed,
But tomorrow will reflect love's past oh
Spring will fill the air and you will come around,
Well is it summer love that will let me down,
Where were you when i needed you, last winter, my love?
La la la la la, la la la la la
La la la la la, la la la la la
Where are you when i need you, like right now?
Right now, right now, right now
Where were you when i needed you last winter, my dear
I need you baby, i need you baby, i need you baby
Oh, where were you when i needed you last winter, last winter
Yea, need you baby, need you, need you baby,
Oh, you want me too need you baby
Oh where were you when i needed you last, dear
Yea
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Brought Them All Kindly To Her Grave
of course i know what coldness is
apart from something that is cool
when mother died her hands were extremely cold
for my hold
i let them go
there was no sadness
there was that happiness of letting her rest
and giving myself a little space
for tomorrow
when coldness comes again in an empty room
with open windows
i know not what panic shall be
my hands are extremely cold these days
when i kiss them
my lips become frozen
they break like glasses
i cannot speak
there is no way that my tongue shall give in to
words
it cannot face coldness in the mirror
of my face
since you ask and you demand an explanation i open my hands
and i let your hands touch them
i cannot speak i am afraid i will be cruel
you must hold these extreme coldness for a long time
so you can all let them go
like white birds against a dark sky
so you can also experience what happiness
i had when i let go off
mama's fears
when mama closed her eyes
because what was important she knew
need not be said anymore
she brought them all kindly to her grave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Goodbye To You
Of all the things I believe in
I just want to get it over with
tears from behind my eyes
but I do not cry
Counting the days that past me by
I've been searching deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old
Looks like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend and I say
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I love
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
I still get lost in your eyes
And it seems like I can't live a day without you
Closing my eyes till you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I am blinded by the light but it's not right
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
Ohhh yeah
It hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time
I want whats yours and I want whats mine
I want you but I'm not giving in this time
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
We the stars fall and I lie awake
Your my shooting star
song performed by by Michelle Branch from Spirit Room
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You”re Still You
The same hair curling on your head
At 49, you look younger,
There are no wrinkles on your forehead
The cheeks still smooth and tight
Your eyes still glow
Like fireflies reflected in the mirror
The moon against the sky
The way you talk defies the years of your absence
The way you look at me
Your way your gaze flies like a butterfly
Hovering back to me like tender hands
Of a woman
Caressing my face
Like golden yellow wing
Fluttering on the petals of a flower
Indeed, you are still you
Loving me
In gentle restraint and
I am deeply saddened
By my own kind of same
Usual indifference
Of the clouds drifting
Without even the thought
Of stopping by the
Peaks of trees
As you open yourself to the sun like
A tight bud opening its petals
Finally exposing its true gentle colors
A flower blooming
To the kindness of sunshine
And the freshness of the air
That this world can offer
I spread my wings like a yellow butterfly
Fluttering away to another garden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Self-Portrait in Shoulder Stand
Old bag of bones
upside down,
what are you searching for
in poetry,
in meditation?
The mother you never had?
The child in you
that you did not conceive?
Death?
Ease from fear of death?
Revelation?
Dwelling in the house of clouds
where you imagine
you once lived?
'Born alone,
we depart alone.'
Someone said that
during meditation
& I nearly wept.
Oh melancholy lady
behind your clown face,
behind your wisecracks-
how heady it is
to let the ideas rush to your brain!
But even upside down,
you are sad.
Even upside down,
you think of your death.
Even upside down,
you curse the emptiness.
Meditating
on the immobile lotus,
your mind takes flight
like a butterfly
& dabbles in bloodred poppies
& purple heather.
Defying gravity,
defying death,
what makes you think
the body's riddle
is better solved
upside down?
Blood rushes to your head
like images that come too fast
to write.
After a life held in the double grips
of gravity & time,
after a headfirst birth
out of your mother's bowels
& into the earth,
you practice for the next.
You make your body light
so that in time,
feet first,
you will be born
into the sky.
poem by Erica Jong
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When Death
(Yet another early work - one month shy of 17)
When death is coming up your walk,
And you're unaware of his escence,
You invite him in, and have a talk
Which reeks of omniprescence
When death is sitting in your home
And you're enchanted by his smile
He's been to places like Paris and Rome,
You ask him to stay awhile
When death is leaning very near,
And your house is all aglow,
He whispers something in your ear,
You know it's time to go
When death is touching you all around
And he plays within your head,
You cannot see, nor hear a sound,
You know you'll soon be dead
When death becomes a part of you,
In the still of night
There is nothing you can do,
Until you see the light
When death takes you to the place
Where you'll see the light,
You will not find a familiar face,
But you'll be too tired to fight
When death begins to say good bye
And says you're on your own
You watch the light, and then you sigh -
You see how bright it's grown
When death gets up, and walks through the light
(Which feels like half-melted ice)
You follow him through to discover your plight
And find you're in paradise
poem by Michael Troy Buffo
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Death' is when 'You' milk 'It
'Death' is when 'You' milk 'It' and milk it, milked
and you drive it, forever and ever,
upward and upward and never down ward, insane.
Death is two silky hands covered in hot burning oil,
that start at the base and death loves to covers each lamp.
While the flame burns inside the brown paper bag exposed.
Pushing death deep without compassion through the pale
full moon, as death walks around, ignoring your cries.
Heaven for death and coming so close to death you find.
Death makes you come over to your friends house once
again, in your mind while those pearls in the bag,
are laid up on the shelf that you share, with deaths pink pig.
Death moves both horns closer, driven unforgiving together,
one here and one there, ever closer, untiring you are laid out as art.
Death knows when the sky is on fire, say it again and again.
Death and truth, death is like an epileptic seizure,
when more than those silky soft hands,
never moved all the way down,
and a river of hot molten 'death' sprays,
in your hair each black day.
Death is as proud..and as proud of you, Death is,
as you splash it around, all about town,
Death and 'Death's' protein mask so tight, you peel it off.
Death was just the tip of the ice burg and death melted it,
with death's thick and full, red buried, unyielding lips.
'You' love to have your fun with death, as you milk it over
and over, the milk never expires, death never tires,
and many,
many are deaths executions from death's weepy milked eye.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Her Last Breath
You had six months to live
Not three weeks
You lay here motionless
Thinking of what to say
I stand beside you
Day and night
Wishing it could go away
She placed her hand in mine
And said her life was good
She had lived long and well
Her hand shakes as death nears
I hold her hand tight
As tears run down my face
As she took what was her one last breath
I feel my heart break
She turned and said she loved me
As her eyes closed
And her body was left lifeless
With me by her side
And her tears in my hand
Today with me she took her last breath
When it was not yet her time to go
poem by Kerrie Maurer
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Got Chocolate?
Snowflakes the size of marshmallows fall to the earth;
Frosty icy winds play havoc with her red curly hair.
She delights in frolicking in snow so deep;
Bundled up in bright green coat and leggings,
pink hat, scarf and gloves
she brightens up the gray day.
Grandpa dons his own snow gear, dark brown coat,
black ear muffs, gloves and red Santa hat;
shovel in hand he begins to clear the path
when 'she' playfully jumps into it re-snowing it
to Grandpa's chagrin as he grins
pretending to be annoyed.
but he re-shovels again with great patience.
The worst of the storm has passed. The white stuff
is the perfect setting this day, this Christmas Eve.
Cold, wet and tired Grandpa and granddaughter
come in to warm up to hot chocolate with marshmallows
and it reminds curly head of the snow fall today.
Grandpa's white mustache is chocolate dyed.
Curly Head's mouth says: 'Got chocolate? '
Bedtime has evolved, Santa's on his way.
Curly head has left him a treat in a cup.
Santa arrived;
he put Curly Head's presents under the tree
Santa's white mustache gave him away;
he looked at himself in the mantle mirror
and laughed a hearty, 'HO, HO, HO'
His white mustache was chocolate dyed
and he cried aloud:
'GOT CHOCOLATE?
'HO, HO, HO! '
© Mel Patterson,11-2011
poem by Mel Patterson
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Tommy's Dead
YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Send the colt to fair, boys,
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bread;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;
There's no sign of grass, boys,
You may sell the goat and the ass, boys,
The land's not what it was, boys,
And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Move my chair on the floor, boys,
Let me turn my head:
She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Take her away from me, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,
Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on here death-bed,
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me, boys,
Whenever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,
And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.
There's something not right, boys,
But I think it's not in my head,
I've kept my precious sight, boys, --
The Lord be hallowéd!
Outside and in
The ground is cold to my tread,
The hills are wizen and thin,
The sky is shrivelled and shred,
The hedges down by the loan
I can count them bone by bone,
The leaves are open and spread,
But I see the teeth of the land,
And hands like a dead man's hand,
And the eyes of a dead man's head.
There's nothing but cinders and sand,
The rat and the mouse have fed,
And the summer's empty and cold;
Over valley and wold
Wherever I turn my head
There's a mildew and a mould,
The sun's going out overhead,
And I'm very old,
And Tommy's dead.
What am I staying for, boys,
You're all born and bred,
'Tis fifty years and more, boys,
Since wife and I were wed,
And she'd gone before, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
She was always sweet, boys,
Upon his curly head,
She knew she'd never see't, boys,
And she stole off to bed;
I've been siting up alone, boys,
For he'd come home, he said,
But it's time I was gone boys,
For Tommy's dead.
Put the shutters up, boys,
Bring out the beer and bread,
Make haste and sup, boys,
For my eyes are heavy as lead:
There's something wrong i' the cup, boys,
There's something ill wi' the bread,
I don't care to sup, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not right, I doubt, boys,
I've such a sleepy head,
I shall nevermore be stout, boys,
You may carry me to bed.
What are you about, boys?
The prayers are all said,
The fire's raked out, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
The stairs are too steep, boys,
You may carry me to the head,
The night's dark and deep, boys,
Your mother's long in bed,
'Tis time to go to sleep, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not used to a kiss, boys,
You may shake my hand instead.
All things go amiss, boys,
You may lay me where she is, boys,
And I'll rest my old head:
'Tis a poor world, this, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jealousy
She wore braids in her hair
every single day.
Not because she wanted to.
It was her mother's way.
She braided them so tightly.
She thought her head would break.
Sometimes just the thought of them
would make her poor head ache.
'Why can't I have my hair
flowing down my back?
Her mother's frown would let her know
to try some other tact..
'Mother can we cut it
just above my shoulder? '
the answer that was given was
'Not until you're older.'
And so she wore her hair like this.
She never wore it down.
When at night she unbraided it
she looked just like a clown.
She knew she would cut it
the very next day
right in front of her mother
to see what she would say.
Her mother watched and sat down
and had a cup of tea.
Her mother simply said
'Now you're more beautiful than me.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Snow White Transparent
“Mirror… Mirror…”
Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew
“This is what you want”
Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White
“Mirror… Mirror…”
A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left
“On the wall…”
He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips
“Snow…? ”
Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is
“Seven little men…”
She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:
“Who is fairest of them all? ”
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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Long, Long Way To Go
You held my hand and then you slipped away
And I may never see your face again
So tell me how do to fill the emptiness inside
Without love, what is life?
And anyone who knew us both can see
We always were the better part of me
I never wanted to be this free
All this pain, does it go away?
Then every time I turn around
And youre nowhere to be found
I know I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to you
Oh, I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to all I ever knew
To you, to you
From memory, there is no hiding place
Turn on the tv and I see you there
In every crowd theres always someone with your face
Everywhere, trying not to care
Then every time I turn around
And youre nowhere to be found
I know I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to you
Oh, I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to all I ever knew
To you, I wish you everythin
And all the best that life can bring
I only hope you think of me sometimes, oh
And even though I feel the pain
I know that I will love again
The time will come, oh, and Ill move on
I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to you
Oh, I got a long, long way to go, got a long way to go
Before I can say goodbye, before I say goodbye
To all I ever knew, to all I ever knew
I got a long, I got a long, long way to go, long way to go
Before I can say, before I say, goodbye to you
Say goodbye, say goodbye
Oh, I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to all I ever knew
Girl, I wish you the best I know, oh and all of the rest, to you
I got a long, long way to go
Before I can say goodbye to you
song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Edna's Asthma
Edna had asthma
And she used to put
This big black mask
Over her face
To help her breathe
And she talked
In short gasps
And wheezed
Between words
And had the best eyes
You could remember
And a smile that lingered
Long after she turned back
To shove the mask back on
And stood with one hand
On the table to steady herself
And the other gripping the mask
And it seemed death stood
In the wings of the house
Biding his time
Leaning maybe against
The dresser or in the dark hall
And Mother said Edna thought
Others talk about her
Behind her back
And it made her quite paranoid
Hearing whispers
When it may have been
Just the harsh wind
Through loose shutters
Or dull women’s mutter
And you guess she knew
You thought about her
And loved her down
The cold long nights
Thinking of you
As that young boy
With the cheeky grin
But then death
Took off with her
Worn out and thin.
poem by Terry Collett
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