Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Death Philosophy Poems | Death Poems About Philosophy

These Death Philosophy poems are examples of Death poems about Philosophy. These are the best examples of Death Philosophy poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Rhyme | |

Forgotten Heroes of the Somme

Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor, 
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.

In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.

In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.

Copyright © Howard Bull

Details | Rhyme | |

Dead tree

Dead tree.

She stands there like she has for years
The life in her all gone
Once she wore a coat of green
And she'd be filled with song
As feathered friends of every kind
Would rest among her leaves
And as in life the same in death
Our tree will never grieve.

So all alone, she looks, this tree
All etched against black clouds
Although the life in her be gone
She stands there looking proud
And all her majesty is seen
By those with eyes to see
I take her picture once again
Try to catch her mystery

21 September 2013 @1920hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Haiku | |


Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....


Details | Rhyme | |

Death of my Friend

Death of my Friend

Found was the key to heaven's door
this pain I can bear no more
The shadows that eat my long nights
the guilt of that deadly fight

Ages ago tragedy came sailing in
took the life of you my friend
A drunken party that went so wrong
our lives becoming a sad song

I begged you to not dare drive
if you done so you'd be alive
My guilt in not forcing you back
you car hit on that train track

Death came instantly to my friend
for me pain that will never end
I backed down when you hit me then
your funeral I'd not had to attend

You that always got your own way
should have never died that sad day
Now I see your fate was meant to be
you died young, a soul early set free!

Robert Lindley

note: Death of my friend. I tried to stop him 
but not hard enough.Too drunk to safely drive but 
when so young we thought we were ten feet tall and 
bullet proof! 
Maybe we were but just not speeding train proof..
Rather than knock him out I let him go. 
Car was hit by a train and death was immediate..
Twenty-one is too young to go..

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Ode | |

Faithful Shadow

I saw a death shadow in the eyes of my infancy
a soft mercy with calm blue fancy,
in childhood, when free will asserted it's wild supremacy
we sang of star charriots and laughter loyal to hyperactivity,
I see a death shadow in the prime of my ascendancy
outlining my temple of truth, whistling thy words of wizardry, 

I hear It like the madness of morning's ending,
I taste It as if from the burning breast milk of a Dragoness,
I see It in the bleeding smile of my heart's kindness,
I speak to It when love's luster unlocks the lunacy of loneliness,
I feel the humble shade of It's jade justice in a world hot and hustling,

My death shadow has a surface sweet with patient purpose,
It is not rough with forboding frost that frights the fight of flesh,
rattling the scythe of doom and cackling for cataleptic crisis it does not,
It is not a grim God or a greedy Goddess, no taxing terror trumpeted,
It has never been an angel of escape or a demon of dour delirium, 
when suffering becomes a seduction of brute beauty I share in it's wise joy,
my death shadow follows the desperate yet disciplined form of my body battle
through life's plethora of coy poisons and possessive passions,
marching along side me with martial grace, sculpting my face with lion spirit -


Copyright © Justin Bordner

Details | Light Poetry | |

Grey Skies are Raining Poets

Is this a poem?
I will let poets decide
I read here, words and prose
How is it possible
Such ingenuity, over and over
Expressions of the heart
Kindness exposed
Bitterness sits in the cold
Poetic wisdom's
Lovers shedding words
Lost souls attacking verbs
Poets in mourning
Deep and emotional losses
Opening the gates of heaven
For the bereaved and forlorn
Poets dancing
Poets crying
Poets who dance and cry
Add some spiced rum and tears
Poets who ponder why?
Poets who offer comfort
Random words of the charitable order
Poets who cannot compose
Yet they are more poetic
Brutal exposure of the heart
Is poetic in its own right
Painters of poetic verse
Who disperse art like candy
I bow my head
In honor of you all

My last request
When that dark omen of death arrives
There shall be a poetic funeral
I shall write nor speak no more
Of lovers and poets
Drunk with words
You all, hoist some cheer
I wish to be surrounded
With poets
As all of you

Copyright © arthur vaso

Details | Rhyme | |

Death, You Do Not Win

Death, You Do Not Win

The world has been unkind to me 
yet there's no where, no where to flee. 
I'll sit and take it if I must 
for all return to earthly dust. 

To cry will do no worldly good. 
Defy with spirit, as I should. 
A loss that cannot be replaced 
yet life must once again be faced. 

So here I sit and wonder how 
to stop the gloom which eats me now. 
Can it be slain with greater love 
or only healed by God above? 

Once, anger always worked for me 
but now, this time decides to flee. 
Yet I seek not its quick return 
true folly that my Soul shall spurn!

Robert J. Lindley, 10-05-2014

Note : Contest 
 Giorgio A. V. 
Contest Name Structured forms - Iambic verse III
You may select between Iambic tetrameter, pentameter, hexameter, heptameter (quatorzain), royal rhyme, blank verse and decapentasyllabic verse. Poems composed with different Iambic forms are accepted as well. Just specify the Iambic forms you have used, beneath the poem.
Form chosen , iambic tetrameter.

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Cowboy | |

Intelligent Design

You think you’re alone out on the range
Sittin’ silent under starry sky,
Just a marvelin’ at the universe
And wonderin’ ‘bout that ol’ question: why?

You shake your head at worlds of worry,
Knowin’ it ain’t often that you’ll find,
All the answers to your queries
Beneath the clear black sky and pine.

You wonder if we rose up from mud
And walked straight and tall upon this earth—
Or was it all created in a moment—
A conception that gave us true birth.

Are we all no more than those monkeys
Evolvin’ slowly down life’s long line?
Or is there more to earth and heaven
Touched by something truly sublime?

We keep on punchin’ clocks and cattle
And tryin’ to get through each new morn—
But is there more to life than dyin’
And will we somehow be reborn?

All the cattle know my hard proddin’
As I lead them along time’s sad way—
We live for but a flashin’ moment,
As we watch life go by in one short day. 

So make the best of trails you ride, cowboy—
Each tomorrow is both yours and mine—
And gaze long at stars in that vast sky
Placed there by intelligent design.

Copyright © Glen Enloe

Details | Rhyme | |

Death Of A Rose

"When the rose dies it falls open, spreading perfume. You will become a window for every house. You will be a rose garden in every field."~Rumi

There were no secrets between us...
        Oh! Beauty's unveiled saline rush!
                Deception is now done.
                        Every man knows your scoring gush...
                                Fate! Has now claimed my only blush!
                                        A Harlot's life begun.

~by deborah burch©

"Rime Couee"

Copyright © Deborah Burch

Details | Rhyme | |

Philosophy on Life, Evil and the World

Philosophy on Life, Evil and the World

The Masters, serve their greed
take from those in great need
Such is evil's darkest cloaks
swallows that so often chokes

The Blinded, serve very well
masters in the pit of Hell
Each has a false laid pride
darkness is where they hide

The Slaves, eat deep regret
of life they'll never get
Each accepts a darkened yoke
defiance rarely ever spoke

The Brave, sail with heart
paying from the very start
Sacrifice to save our Souls
Deep river, so many shoals

The Warriors, cut ever deep
die as family sets to weep
Freedom's mantle they serve
with epic hearts, iron nerves

The Innocent, stand so bare
suffer greatly, so few care
Yet they are the true treasure
their test is the real measure!

Robert J. Lindley, 09-05-2014

note: Impossible to include ever 
group so this poet came up with 
these six to write about...

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Rhyme | |


From time to time I wonder if
It’s truly worth the ride
To live this life I’ve been given
Or trade it for one goodbye…

What good are all these memories, 
Wishful thoughts and dreams 
When the longer I crawl the farther I fall
From blue skies to cold, dark seas?

When they say we should be expanding
Outward towards the stars,
Connecting like particles and molecules 
Near and far.  

And yet here I stand a ‘waiting
The rain to wash me clean
Wondering when the sky is clear 
Will my existence be worth anything?

Does it matter that I’ve loved 
And lost, the battles I have waged 
From childhood tears to present fears
Of a cold, dark, muddy grave?

Will anyone remember 
A hundred years from now
Or even read these words composed
As if they matter anyhow? 

I suspect not a speck of dust or grain 
Of sand will anyone care 
That I lived, breathed, walked, talked, laughed, cryed 
And dared.

To climb the peak of Mount Impossible  
And swim the Seas of Sad Goodbyes;
To race the winds of wishful dreams
And time while flying bye.  

What will become of my travels around  
This tiny blue ball in space
And everyone I’ve ever known – 
Every sad and smiling face? 

And who’ll recite this poem once more 
And wonder, “Who was he?” 
When I’ve turned to dust as we all must 
Return back to the sea.       

Of mother earth and universe 
Womb of One and All
While I wonder sometimes who will find
I existed once and for all.     

Copyright © Terrell Martin

Details | Rhyme | |

Where Now Sings The Sweetest Morning Lark

An Old Battlefield ,  by Frank L. Stanton

The softest whisperings of the scented South,
And rust and roses in the cannon's mouth;

And, where the thunders of the fight were born,
The wind's sweet tenor in the standing corn;

With song of larks, low-lingering in the loam,
And blue skies bending over love and home.

But still the thought: Somewhere,-upon the hills,
Or where the vales ring with the whip-poor-wills,

Sad wistful eyes and broken hearts that beat
For the loved sound of unreturning feet,

And, when the oaks their leafy banners wave,
Dream of the battle and an unmarked grave!

Frank L. Stanton 

My tribute below, to this great man and his fine poem
quoted above.

Where Now Sings The Sweetest Morning Lark

The morning dew falls upon the ground
precious soil, where blood was laid down
Fine men, hearty soldiers one and all
upon this battlefield they did bravely fall

Silence now , no loud cannons booming out
no screaming in an agonizing painful shout
Bullets once whizzed onward to hit their mark
where now sings the sweetest morning lark

Morning mists now wrap the towering hills
where war took so many with senseless kills
Courage so true,  could still save no man
not if cruelest Fate had a different plan 

Death raced about in the air with glee
sad was every blood soaked dying plea
Of brave men that fought and valiantly died
leaving behind family that forever cried

The setting sun casts a saddened glow
on this once bloody soil covered with snow
No victor's glory can ever stand to replace
these fallen that lost their greatest race

No laurels given at that deadly finish line
no great banquet to celebrate and dine
Only quiet and forgotten memories remain
of this great battle and its bloody stain

Robert J. Lindley, 02-12-2015

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Free verse | |

The Day That Died Forever

When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...

I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky

The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn

I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe

The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul

Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through

Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost

I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art

As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow

Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place

The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost

Day was Life,Night is Death

And the latter has given counsel on my final steps

Copyright © Winter Wallace

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Is there an Exclusive All-in-One Principle

  ‘ In general, quantum mechanics does not predict a single definite result for an observation. Instead, it predicts a number of  different possible outcomes and tells us how likely each of these is. ‘

Which side of the Wolf-coin are we looking at

                  the red or the green

                                 nothing then is certain

not even death but the life one endures

 quarks protons neutrons electrons bosons

particles like men and beings in general

                                             bathe not necessarily in the same lifeless soup

         great teachers or rather teachers with great followings

     those that always attract those who prefer to let others do the thinking  for them

         especially through transcendentally transmitted interstellar telegraphy

                 would want us believe

                                             there’s just This One

  and all comes and goes to That Only ONE

If only it were just as simple as that

Then what is it that This One wants

Or is It caught up in its own caveat

And must of needs come apart

        on the seed that It alone plants

                           and do what we may

   nothing goes wrong

            whatever the explanation

everybody is right

right from the start


         Big Bang from a tight-fisted unfurling hand

         Big Crunch to a crushing tightening stranglehold

and out again

         for the Brahma Day

and after aeons the Brahma Night

And at the stillstanding blackhole singularity

         neither space nor time

            squeezed in and out

Birth as in Death

An eventual point of total extinction

        if ever there was one

Yet always the two extremes

      and the ever-changing in-betweens

Matter versus Anti-Matter

Here the Yang is not lkely to be set againt the Yin

Though matter itself is neither

Is nor Is-Not-ness

         And the 96% Dark Matter

          And the infinite number of parallel universes

Does it really matter


         ‘ … if you meet your antiself, don’t shake hands !

            You would both vanish in a great flash of light.’                   

Vanish into what

                                    Dark matter

or just non-dark matter

Still the duality of matter

Still the ever-changing conundrum

              Everything moves jostles couples alters reproduces destructs


         ‘Sex is emotion in motion.’

Emotion erupts

           into thin air

      into where

Dark air

Motion disrupts

         and roots one here

      tied to the lunar year

       why should it matter

if we cannot know the reason why

ego id libido

drive faith fame femme father future

if super/alter ego connects the ego

       to the collective unconscious 

       why drown the self in the Great Self

by wilful act

       when the Ultimate One

is the sum of all the little ones

Is the Original One incapable of absorbing all the ones

each of whom must move to eat drink sleep

copulate make money grow roots in a society

get and fight to keep a job

make love marry raise children

struggle to keep one’s wife one’s children        

one’s house  if one can get one

one’s career one’s future

and helter-skelter race to cheat death

If it’s the self-same thing that’s being born anew

What does it matter if it keeps changing in view

Of the desperate haste with which everything

We see smell hear feel intute sense

Keeps hurtling away from the Ding an Sich

And leaves us with a parochial Milky Way

Bastardised stealthily by grandiose Andromeda        

Left retrograded entwined within measely galaxy clusters 

Through some trillion cataclysmic light years

What’s the impulse to keep moving

Is the yogi’s stilled-centre

The death of all action

Which cannot call for a reaction

Or is the art of keeping still

Merely the art of making belief


          ‘…actors act out the pun that life is the art of acting

until your performed role becomes your normal character.

Then you are safe inside your character armour.’


As soon as you have thought It out

It turns around and re-structrures Itself inside out

                 and you know just why

                                                               don’t you now


References to the quotations

Stephen W. Hawking, A Brief History of Time : From the Big Bang to Black Holes, London-New York, 1988.


Attributed to Mae West.

Eric N. W. Mottram,  « Men & Gods : A Study of Eugene O’Neill », Encore (London), 1963.

I’m not sure the « re-structuring » bit at the end comes from
Steven Weinberg or John Gribbin, or perhaps even from Fred Allan Wolf ?


© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2005 ; rev. 2012. From the collection : Poems Omega-Plus, 2005.

Copyright © T Wignesan

Details | Rhyme | |

Upon The Gallows Stands The Condemned

Upon The Gallows Stands The Condemned

Upon the gallows stands the condemned,
the crowd slobbering for his demise.
Preacher and followers begin bible hymn
about fools not so very swift or wise.

There dancing spirits surrounding him,
this dejected and now shaking thief.
His dark, haunting past now so very dim
lost of all hope and steeped in grief.

Beelzebub stands there with wicked grin,
to welcome home the coming of the fruits.
His harvest dark and heaped over in sin,
crowd crying to see his swinging boots!

Soon darkness will bring on its release,
as stiff rope snaps into a sudden drop.
Death shall make this lost soul cease,
when his life and time will forever stop!

Gallows have done their cheering deed,
crowd lurches forth in a collective swoon.
Beelzebub, gathers the fruit of his seed
and gathers the crowd's dark joy as a boon!

Robert J. Lindley, 04-24-2015

Note:  Man's judgment may be a necessary evil but the actions engaged in by 
those that obeyed the carnal desires, lusts and temptations of evil are a sweet harvest for HE that gathers his fruit with a wicked grin...

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Free verse | |


He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
All results of

Copyright © Laura Hamilton

Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 

Copyright © John Paluszek

Details | Epitaph | |


No name appears on my stone
there are no flowers strewn
grasses grows knee high
full of thorny brambles

How did this come to pass
that so soon I am forgotten
no longer in memories am I
no one tends to my grave

Yet but a few short years
have passed since my death
my name once on many lips
now only sighed by the wind
as it passes my resting place

Now, forsaken, forgotten
out of sight and out of mind
nothing now remains of me
just my crumbling bones
moulder away deep in the earth

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton

Details | Rhyme | |

Does it really matter

Does it really matter?

Does it really matter?
What you’ve done, or what you’ve been
Or whether you be special
{What ever that word means}
Whether you see one hundred
Or live for an hour or so
One day the  ‘Reaper’ he will come
And off with him you’ll go.

Does it really matter?
Whether you be Prince, or king
Millionaire or poorest pauper
It doesn’t mean a thing
He’ll have no sympathy for you
That one in sombre black
One day it will be time for you
To make that final act

Does it really matter?
That each must turn to dust
This be the way it’s always been
So in it you must trust
Relax and let the river flow
Then what will be, will be
You’re born alone. You’ll die alone
This is the tale of thee.

5 November 2014

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Lyric | |


Men say there are no absolute truths...

The Truth
Man can govern himself. He just doesn’t have the ability to do this successfully.

The Truth
There is one God. He has a name. He has a son. Their names are different.

The Truth
When you die, you are dead - not ghosts. It is that simple. That’s it, for now…

The Truth
Even though humans die, we were never meant to. We were designed for a time 
without end.

The Truth
The most circulated book in the history of Man must be more than a “book.”

The Truth
Happiness can be attained, even in a completely miserable place.

The Truth
There is no such place as a fiery Hell of torment, except in pagan mythology.

The Truth
There is a Heaven. However, its purpose is not what you think.

The Truth
The meek shall inherit the Earth.

The Truth... not that far from you.

Copyright © Mark Pringle

Details | Verse | |

Rust Sleeps

Rust sleeps without the churchyard
on the blunt perimeter rails,
on the bloom of iron stabbing up
into the pelt of rain.

Rust sleeps upon the fence posts
where the wire is nailed to wood
and the metal burns an ochre tint
beneath the sodium arc.

Rust sleeps atop the hinges
of the pub door so to screech
a shrill alert to drunken ears
of some returning ghost.

Rust sleeps upon the riverbed,
suicide pushed into the deep,
trolleys severed by the silt,
dead baby prams beside.

Rust sleeps in feasts of coma night
and eats small mouthfuls of the moon,
spits corrosion at the stars
and dulls this razor life. 

Copyright © Tony Bush

Details | Ballade | |



People living in straight lines
First they live and then they die
Never looking at those circles
As the truth just passes by
Everything goes round and round
Then round, and round, and round again
Yet to folk with eyes closed tightly
All those circles be in vain.

Planets speak of endless circles
As each season comes and goes
Round in circles, always circles
First the morning sun, it glows
It lights the day and then it dies
As it’s swallowed by the sea
Then reborn each early morning
This be the path of destiny

Circles always turning, turning
I have looked and I have found
Circles, they be all around us
In nature things go round, and round
It seems this be a thing worth noting
Watch those circles, they might show
When looked at with a deep awareness
Something that the mystics know

Always put your faith in circles
This be all I have to say
Take a wondrous walk with nature
Learn the truth from day to day
That first you’re here and then you vanish
`Then you’re here then gone again
Let the circles tell their story
When looked at, it be very plain.

Written in 2002

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Prose Poetry | |



Life is like a coloring book
with few or many pages
filled with complex 
outlined images.

We are given a box of crayons
and are asked to color in the 
background and spaces of the images

Sub-titles are allowed.

When the coloring book is finished
we are given a new one to complete.

C.A.K. 12-6-2012


Was I once before or never
Don’t know how or even whether

I was a firefly, a bird of prey 
a centipede, a fish fillet?

A baseball fan to keep the score
a mockingbird, a carnivore?

A blossom in the midst of spring
a sign of what the day might bring.

A germ grown in a Petri dish
a chicken bone an unmade wish

All things and species could I be,
even remnants of a tree.

Of all of these,  I leave this post,
I am for now what I am most.

CAK 7-23-2012


As 'core' beliefs thicken so, 
does it leave us room to grow?
As aging souls say we must, 
complete the cycle which was thrust
upon our bucolic living place 
turned upside down in whorling space
searching for a redemptive life.

But for you, dearest one, do you not remember 
before you arrived, you took this bucking horse of soul, 
tamed it, labeled it and proclaimed it. 
To become what you needed in order
that your ride be contained and controlled. 
It's name is 'balance' and it keeps you level in the saddle 
so you don't fall off. 



If, we are on a soul journey,
then what must that soul become?

A better soul? A wiser soul?
A sad soul? A learned soul?
Until one reaches the end of time,

There are so many lives to live out
to fully experience all aspects of this world.
Animals, plants - more souls searching?

One can speculate, but from my perspective
none of it makes sense.

CAK 4-03-2012


Was the Phoenix reincarnated?
Or was its embers reignited?  
Perhaps before a lowly worm or soldier bee 
or brown turned leaf upon a tree? 
A  seahorse, a shark, which fish shall I be?  
In fisherman's net to be eaten by me?  
And when the cycle is complete 
and x equals x on our balance sheet.
Can we then rest in a celestial lair 
with memories gone and unaware
of trials by all things forgotten?
If choose I must or chosen by me,  
I'll remain in the stars and just wait to see.


Copyright © Allan Koven

Details | Light Poetry | |

I Hate You All

Yes you, and you, and you over there
The nerve you all have, it’s sickening
What right do you have to leave this world?
Why do you all die on me?
What is life that you toss it away?
Old and sick, humppph excuses I say
I have had enough
No one must leave
Stop, I command time to STOP
Are my tears not enough?
You all conspire against me, I know
To add me to your collection
Of death
Why? Why? Why?
All your kind smiles, laughter and love
You make the world shine, and give hope
Only to disappear to the afterlife
Is this not cruelty?
I beg of you all, do not go
I have not the strength to carry on
Here, as you all dwindle away
Leaving me to ponder my own mortality
Alone, alone I sit, knowing romance will be kindled once more
Death will come to offer me a final kiss
Whom will hate me?

Copyright © arthur vaso

Details | Carpe Diem | |


How to stop swift and stealthy time that brings death?
Must we think only of victories, not defeats
and deny that all we posses will be lost as wealth?
Disease and age are our enemies...doesn't health control heartbeats?
Spread those tables and enjoy your food and wine,
dance and sing when sadness knocks, indulge in a life simply divine!

Should we live in the moment as the ancient Romans did indeed:
constantly thinking of invincibility and immortality...
shrugging off days and years of dire uncertainty;
wouldn't it be absurd to embody the essence of their creed?
In South Africa Lekker is a portent of good as the word, " Omens " is;
try to include it in your daily speech and write yourself a funny phrase!  

Some may say, " It's madness! " and laugh as a delirious Macbeth; 
others will accept it and suddenly forget that they are going to die
by contemplating this motto," How to stop swift and stealthy time that brings death? "
God's curse on the human race can be undone, if we don't believe Satan's lie!  

How to stop swift and stealthy time that brings death?
Isn't it an impossible wish for all the living who can't escape reality?
Although science offers much hope with their findings on longevity...
we are bound for our graves without a single breath! 


Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Senryu | |

death's breath is warm

death’s breath is warm a welcome reprieve in the winter of life

Copyright © Suzette Richards

Details | Ballade | |

Everything goes round in circles

Everything goes round in circles.

Everything, it goes in circles
So why the worry all the time?
It seems to me all our impatience
It really is  a blessed crime
Always frightened death will touch us
Thinking there is but one life
Fear is such a foolish action
Gets us all in so much strife.

In nature there is not a straight line
Straight lines just exist in mind
The seasons sun and moon above us
Look at them and you will find
That all of them go round in circles
Everything goes round and round
I have looked, it seems forever
And this is all I’ve ever found.

And so my friends just drop your worries
Don’t be foolish, live your life
Without the fear, and the impatience
These they cause you too much strife
Life goes on, it does forever
Take a look so deep within
To worry, worry till forever
This is such a blessed sin.

17 May 2014 @ 0745hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Imagism | |

Guilty Reflection

Looking dead at me in this smeared mirror...
a lost man
face red
and teared

stacking excuses 
the longer I stare
this stress abuses 
my conscience with a glare

a guilty reflection warns
my mind is the prison I fear
as I long to escape 
from the  hell I dwell in
right here

who have I become? 
what have I done right?
crossroads appear suddenly 
as fog fills the mirror tonight

darkness owning the room,
prefers I suffer slow
so I proceed with speed 
because it’s the only way I know

tasteless stories
flood my life’s hard bound chapters 
while this smeared mirror reflects tears
dripping from a face 
which was once filled with laughter. 

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Free verse | |


I drop my words
Into a vacuum
-So there's enough room-
But they're vacuumed up
By the lack of air
'Cause I made no wings
To bear them

Without force
I let them go
I let gravity
Take it's course
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Go up in flames
Or slowly rust

All that's eternal
Is that's pure
Pain and hate
And love -no more

And I'm so scared
That it's all in my head
That life's a steady march
To dead
Dead ends
and culs-de-sac
Take one step forward
Then quick!
Turn back.

Copyright © Martha Crowe

Details | Free verse | |

L. I. F. E. (Living In Fear Everywhere)

L iving 
I n
F ear
E verywhere

Just as we live and just as we die 
We laugh, kill and crucify
We are no more our brothers than we are ourselves 
We are the players 
With the tools and talent of the efficient demise 
Of war, famine and greed 
We do rise
Of the ever constant ricochet of freedom in our ears
As we wrap our fallen dead in a shroud of rights, laws and bills 
And continue to improve the technology, the precision 
The assurance of absolute destruction 

Buying death is easy
Dealing is easier 
The career choice of many 
A thriving business with prestige and power 
Taking, wanting, hungry for the rush 
So young, so fragile 
Blood is running in the streets 
A seemingly endless fountain of misguided youth 
Falling, one after the other 
So far from the truth 

S  hocked 
A  ngry
D  epressed 

What good has ever come from a gun ?
Why kill ?
Why are we arming our children ?
Our future ?
Are you blind to the fact ?
Do you not hear the sound ?
Do you not see ? 
Do you not care ?
We are killing ourselves 
Stealing each others dreams 
Each others families 
Why pro-create ?
To produce, raise, and nurture more disposable targets ?
Is there another use for guns ? 
1 + 1 = 0
One bullet + one individual = one less reason to care 
We are waging war upon our brothers for money, love and survival 

G  ive 
U  s
N  o
S  anity

All to easy....................
Living In Fear Everywhere 

Eric (and sometimes not)

Copyright © Eric Nolan