Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Age Death Poems | Age Poems About Death

These Age Death poems are examples of Age poems about Death. These are the best examples of Age Death 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 | Crown of Sonnets | |

Life's Fading Light-Part 1-Heroic Crown of Sonnets

Youth

When orchids bloom in beauty life's aglow
to hold emotions locked in deep repose
in young desire and love warm thoughts will show.
Affection holds its ardor as it grows
to burn inside young hearts in evening tide.
In darkest night the heat will burn and rise
till naked, love's sweet flower blooms inside
and once again my love the past implies.
I'm not the dreaming soul you think you've known,
this willing need that cannot be denied,
is naught if not in love my feeling's grown,
as sad, the winds of change cast hearts aside.
     
     Is not the pain of youth our last great stand
          as time, with heavy brow, is nature planned?


Time

As time, with heavy brow, is nature planned,
to start the quest the instant life began.
It ticks each moment past with second hand
through infant life, to youth, and then to man.
The years go by as sequenced seasons pass
and miss each gentle touch of mothers breast.
As hair of grey like waves of grain amass,
we enter life's most cruel and crucial test.
How quick the mind in once unfettered thought
is now but clouds of muddled pother dust,
and as the time moves deep in minds hard fought,
the turning wheels soon slow to so much rust.

     No thought for life and love can further grow.
          Too soon the beating heart begins to slow.

Passion

Too soon the beating heart begins to slow
as passion spent prepares to take its toll,
and shooting stars burn down to subtle glow,
the mind's illusions dream of heart and soul.
Yet warmth and need can still ignite the flame
if sparks in coals of burning love remain.
Though slow the beats count down each ardent frame
our need for touch and fervor we retain.
For what is good without loves sweet caress
on lonely night or stormy sullen day,
to tightly hold each moment we possess
and guard the heart from anger and dismay.

     The light of heaven's long goodbye's unplanned
          when passion's ember burns the gentle hand.

Love

When passion's ember burns the gentle hand,
so, too, pure hearts can suffer in loves pain.
but lessons taught, no matter how well planned
can lead us down this broken path again.
Emotions find the cracks in crystal yen
then ebb and flow in watered essence's glow,
and grow the seeds of doubt to wonder when
through chinks in life's burst dam our love will flow.
But fill each crack with heart's warm trust and truth
and once again love's flower starts to bloom
like soft bright petals only found in youth,
we feel the sun burn past our time of gloom.

     Through life the warmth of pain awaits each day
          with flames of love that flicker old and grey.

Age

With flames of love that flicker old and grey
the hope of life's sweet nectar I once gave.
With you in pleasured touch we both would lay
and from my lonely heart my life you'd save.
As time moves on, though wisps of shadows fade,
like honey to the bees love yet tastes sweet
but tender touches lost in dark of shade
remain recalled reflections of conceit.
Let not the scourge of time erase the stain
of need for heated pleasure so ingrained
and loves mosaic tender heart's refrain
then end to end our love we'll share unchained.
     
     As brown the leaves float free from trees unmasked.
          but moments gone, as youth filled questions asked.

Sorrow

But moments gone, as youth filled questions asked,
no more of young loves wonder we request,
for in our soul the answers are unmasked
when stars align to find the lover's quest.
In length of day, like shadows, darkness grows
engulfing heaven's promise lost in fear,
and clasp strong hands of those we hold so close
from moistened cheeks we wipe a lonely tear.
No soft and tender touch upon the brow
when, tick, the clock calls out the lonesome hour,
can change the path of fate we follow now,
when life's sweet taste turns bitter, tart and sour.

     As we in fervid dusk filled evening lay
          the feelings lost to seasons never stay.

Feelings

The feelings lost to seasons never stay
and life  grows cold as little sand remains.
But, o'er the heart the mind has little sway
when strong emotions bleed through burning veins.
Does anger, love or hate in time still lie,
awaiting passion's burning deep inside,
or ease in mellowed thoughts as days go by
to tarry in the place where senses hide?
The smile upon my face may turn in joy
though deep inside my heart my feelings burn
as eddies swirling lost in loves sad ploy
awaiting their frenetic fierce return.

     Like comet's tail our hearts burn bright and fast
          for in the end it's just one soul that's passed.


04/19/16

Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

How to Die

At a carnival- in my dream
I saw an old man had made 
a rocket - and blasted off
I saw it go overhead and at first thought
It was a decoy
because no-one could come back to Earth safely
From such a blast
Then - I assumed because he was old 
he wanted to die in a 
Blaze of glory
Next I see his rocket turn into a parachute
And he has on snow skis and poles
We all make a space for him to land.
As he lands - the street turns into a river- 
and he manages to land upright
on the skis - on the water.
But I think then he had a heart attack
From the joy of landing 
Suzanne Delaney

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad | |

A message from Emilly

A message from Emilly
By Angelo Casiano


A message from above to those of you I love.
I love you more than you’ll ever know,
Even more now that I’m gone.
And my love for you will grow and grow,
Like the chorus to a song.
I had to leave much sooner than
 I thought, I must admit.
But you know mom, until I’m done,
 I’m never gonna quit. 
I left behind some parts of me,
 I have so much to give.
Because of you I’m strong enough,
 to help some others live.
So Daddy when you think of me,
While you watch the Phillies play. 
I’ll be sitting next to you. I’ll be with you every day.
 You’ve given me the best of you.
And now I’m giving back.
I will love you for eternity. No matter were I’m at.

Copyright © Angelo Casiano | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse | |

Companion

The old man sits in his chair by the door
His dog lies beside him curled up on the floor
Ever since that day when the man lost his wife
that dog had, to him, been the whole of his life

With his constant companion through all those long days
he'd sit in the sun enjoying its rays
It seemed like for hours the old man had dozed
A faint smile on his face and his eyes tightly closed

The dog licks his hand and emits a faint whine
and looks up at his face as if for a sign
but the man doesn't move, just continues to smile
so the dog lays back down on the floor for a while

The dog gets its ball, lays it down at his feet
but the man takes no notice, just stays still in his seat
He nudges the ball as if he were saying
"What's wrong with you, why aren't you playing"

Then, as if in acceptance, the dog quietly sighs
and looks up one last time with adoring eyes
The dog keeps his vigil through the night 'til next day
ever since, that sad morning, when the man passed away 

Copyright © Rob Biden | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The Old Woman

Shawled against 
the damp night chill,
she waits
slumped low, 
crumbled
in her favorite chair.
Old and tired 
she waits.
Eyes, once bright, 
cast a milky stare 
blind to all 
but distant memories 
and moments carved 
treasured wooden dolls 
faces and form 
now whittled away
unrecognizable.
Lines and furrows etch 
the frail countenance
struggling in vain to see
a fast approaching 
destiny.
Daylight dims as twilight fades,
and lurking in the corner there,
A Dark Shadow
smiles. . . . .
as the old woman waits 
Alone.

Copyright © Gail Roberts | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beautiful people

People make me smile the way 
their eyes shine when they talk 
about something they love 
when they feed me food. Or tell 
me how much they love me 
when I look into someone's 
eyes and see it I see that look 
in their eyes I see love in them 
When I see someone laugh and 
have fun in what they do 
The way they cry for there lost 
ones
When they give me a smile and 
tell me how beautiful I am 
People are beautiful well some 
are and I wish someday I can 
find someone who will look at 
me and say "you have that look 
in your eye"    what look?
"Happiness" 
I want to find someone so 
beautiful in the inside I can't 
stay away they amaze me with 
what they say an do how they 
will dance in the rain and know 
every detail about me
Will bring me Starbucks on a 
rainy day and just talk about 
the stars 
I want someone beautiful

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

WE ALL DIE

My piety,my poetry ,my love
All are in vain
my music, my love ,my mind
All are running insane

My rhymes are all crooked
I can't write a perfect song
Looks like my life is worthless
my music, my poetry its all gone

Behold the paradox,
In these old rhymes 
living in a worthless life 
All these times 

The music's almost over
just need to turn out the light
I need just one leap
Need to show on last fight

I need to create something
something that makes you feel
the goal isn't to live forever
Its to create something that will

Copyright © anbes rawal | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Pal

Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”

Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”

One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…

Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.

Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”

Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.

Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed. 
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.

Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.

Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray, 
“Lord, let this day be my last.”

For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Pal quietly passed away.

Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…you’re the best friend in my life.” 
Bob talked to Pal, caressed him until he fell asleep;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob finally joined his wife.

The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….

Stood an old dog beside the stone, 
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place. 
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.

She smiled.  “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too.  His name was Pal.”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric | |

Velvet Wings

Ignorant to passing time
Reality strikes its deafening chime
Unspoken words pass between
I and you, my darling queen

Lay your weary head to rest
With your arms across your chest
Now it's time to close your eyes
Whisper your final goodbyes

Let me go, we'll both be free
Cross the wasteland, past the sea
Find the path to heaven's light
Break away from endless night

Embracing tears of bitter pain
Falling lightly with the rain
Out of reach, I hear your song
Alone again, I sing along

Let me go, we'll both be free
Cross the wasteland, past the sea
Find the path to heaven's light
Break away from endless night

From the night. . .
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I never saw you so alive
So alive
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I'll never ever say goodbye
Never say goodbye

Life has ended, you have won
Death befriended, pain is gone
Fly away into the light
Crystal clear and shining bright
Close your eyes for final rest
Meeting among the blessed

Let me go, we'll both be free
Cross the wasteland, past the sea
Find the path to heaven's light
Break away from endless night

From the night. . .
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I never saw you so alive
So alive
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I'll never ever say goodbye
Never say goodbye

I let you go so you'll be free
Cross the path of darkened sea
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I can never say goodbye
Never say goodbye


Collaboration with Rebecca Larkin <3
A song, and lyrics

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

The tree of life

A lonely tree stands in a field
Branches entwined in one
And as those branches come to life
They reach up to the sun

This tree with all it's energy
just like a woman so it be
It's branches swaying in the breeze
just like a mother's offspring, these

And so the lonely tree does age
The human kind out living
But we all end up just the same
Our flesh to earth be giving

And thus our lives all end the same
No matter what we be
Some have long lives, some much less
In life's sweet mystery

Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

Average Age 19

Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for

Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain

Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin

I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail

Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled

Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss

How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run

I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance





James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Forgotten You

Forgotten you
As your mind collects the memories of yesterday
Forgotten You
Epiphanies tie into knotty strings of realization
That very moment. . . 
You merely exist

Back then. . .those smiles
Those. . .distant laughs
Some you remember by name
Gone now maybe
Like the exhalation of the wind
Others dispersed in the world of arbitrary happening
Like leaves from falling, man-made trees
There is no doubt that they have
Forgotten you

Activate the bomb
Ignite the fuse
And you’re on next year’s history book
Never forgotten
But drained of all remaining good

That smile you gave
That happiness
The warm embrace so long ago
Salt-coated with piles of rubbish
Over last remaining mental spurts of comfort
Evil, evil, evil, evil, EVIL. . .
Always absorbed and remembered
. . .though never forgiven. . .

All good and gracious sentiments
Packed up in a box set nonchalantly in Downstair’s storage
. . .that chair with the broken leg in the corner of the room
That mangled cobweb holding a dangling, lifeless spider
A drowned sailor’s hat drifting through the current of the ocean
The single tear from a soldier’s vigilant, memory-stricken eye
The frustrating thoughts of a mute
The unchanged. . .HATED deformations

Forgotten you. . .
One soul brings to light weary, unthought-of happenings
Wedged deep into what she can only imagine
With not even a hint of understanding
. . .of the pain. . . .of the bewildering distortions
Of the ugly. . .
One soul merely vomits sickly verse after verse

As humanity embraces its downfall
The poet hangs onto her unjustifiable, forgotten. . .
Words

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Phantoms You Have Carried

The clearest blue became mottled with age,
and I only recently began to notice.
Time-soaked eyes, foggy mirror to my own,
reflecting a frail wire, just out of reach.
Leading to a skull-shaped cellar,
therein lay the contents, shadows,
wavering in small glimmers of truth.
Reserved but yearning, they call to me.

Whispers carress my lobes; 
they are phantoms you have carried.
They ride on waves of joy and anguish,
snapshots of my tiny feet trodding down halls,
chasing cats with remote-control race cars.
Then I tumbled over a carpeted ledge
and bent your office-drawer key.
Maybe you'd suspected those young paws
were much stronger than they looked.

As time sped all around me, your atmosphere grew thin,
and labored breathing stole the spark from your limbs.
When cells began to replicate like narcissists in the West,
your hovel became a war zone, and I, a refugee.
You never caught your breath in the wreckage,
and when a second bout of war came, your lungs gave out.
I watched it happen, at a loss.
I remember your mouth agape, eyes glazed, wide,
as, in your final breath, you ran towards something I could not see.

Now, the battleground you once crawled through
has been cleared of every trace, every tuft of dog hair,
and all the shining documentation to prove you were an artist.
And how you were an artist, having sculpted so much of my
lanky willow limbs, my dense, ferocious heart.
I have a case of survivor's guilt.
I am writing every day a mystery, wading through
my own metaphysical mess, only faintly aware of yours,
the stuff that lingers like shadow people,
darting in and out of my peripheral vision.

I only wish they'd speak to me and
divulge what last you saw, or that I could
re-activate your smart phone and read
the very last text message you sent.

Copyright © Kathleen Shay | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

An Old Truth

Almost eighty,
But still quite spry,
Still living life
With joy in his eyes.

He loved to bowl,
He loved to golf.
Both lifted his soul
So he often went off.

One day on the course,
With his skilled swing,
He had a great score –
His favorite thing.

He rushed home.
He’d done so well.
He needed the phone,
There were people to tell.

He began to dial,
But lost his smile.
His emotions went viral.
He just stared awhile.

He leaned on the wall
Reviewing his friends.
Sadly, no one to call.
Every good life ends.

Still and amazed
That on this day
Truth had hazed
This part of old age.

Lost in these thoughts,
He pulled up a chair
And for the longest time
He silently sat there.



Contest:  Theme #4 - Old and New Poems
September 29, 2015
7th Place

Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative | |

The Benefits of Old Age

 
As he sat on his old front porch gently rocking his swing.
    His old mind a million miles away not really thinking on anything.
Staring into space he just let his old thoughts run free.
     Wondering how he got to this place, all alone and lonely as could be.
Just killing time somehow became the daily norm.
     Without someone to share your thoughts somehow life can take on a brutal 
form.
His children are all grown and they never come by.
   They’ve got lives of their own was his reasoning as to why.
Was I this selfish, as he tried to recollect those memories from way, way back.
     Maybe I was he thought as he tried to get his thoughts back on to track.
A tear ran down his old face as he got up to go back inside. 
     The pain was still there too hard for him to hide.
There was nothing left for him to prove, he was just an old man and this he knew.
     Everyday played out the same as he longed for this day to be through.
His nights were quite short while his days seemed to never end.
    As he sat down at his table and called out to Jesus his only true friend.
He said Father when You’re ready please take me home.
    I’m tired of this heartache of living alone.
As he sat at the table he felt a sudden peace.
    He felt his soul being lifted in its final release.
With angels all around him he ascended in flight.
   Heading for heaven he’d be there fore night.
As he reached Heavens Gate there stood our Lord.
    He said I’m sorry but you weren’t ready I know it was hard.
He said I know that you’re ready so please come on in.
    There is someone that’s been waiting she is waiting within.
                         

Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse | |

Tears Of Serious

            Tears Of Serious

Two rivers of silver approach you at a time by crying
Taking on water in rain as they serpentine by around black rocks
And other fears that gather up about their banks
One silver moving wall of water is shallow in its depths
Remains nameless all the same, once again, then evaporates
Hides, mourning on the shore and then it is no more
The other moving liquid body flows by, goes by Serious
It turns in pain, winds around the landscape meanderings
Serpentines, absorbing rain and young children to its depths
No one knows why the river runs so long so deep
But there are tears in it originating from old faces
Forming on old mountains as they trickle down, cascading
Tears of Serious are created from many deaths
Now in her depths   

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Bouncebackability

Born I was, still alive today, down, but I'll be back to say Even at a small age, when our house burnt to the ground Disorientated, confused, in it's smoke filled surround With no other place to go, to a Caravan we called our home It was the events after this, that allowed my mind to roam Little me playing in a field, on a broken bottle I fell Crimson fountains erupted, I survived, as I'm here to tell That Monday night so special, Boys Brigade we headed to be I tried to run faster, but my brother was faster than me Out of the opening he went, boy running, was he skilled He was there, but gone the next, knocked down, my brother killed My mind now in roam and wander, fathers health started to slide Where does a seven year old turn to, to whom does he confide Pillar to post I headed, fostered out, and to children's homes Six years later many more tears, my father in deathly roam To my father I kept my promise, to the Royal Navy I would go Whilst training, caught under a raft, my life nearing slow Pulled from the water was I, nearly drained of what little I had A release of water, a gasp of air, hours later feeling so glad Eventually what I'd always wanted, to be happy and family be Married to the girl whom I'd know, would love to marry me But to a colleague I'd declared my worries, of a phone call I'd take For History would repeat itself, to awaken to a possible wake That call finally arrived, to the telephone, speaking to my eldest son Liam his younger brother, knocked down, my tears in run I'm blessed that he was saved, which cancelled out that call I only wish that technology was, that I'd have a firewall This is me up to date, apart this last weekend Again I thought I lost my youngest, once again relieved of strain Hours up at the Hospital, the first human skull I've seen A serious cut to his head, but what it could have been This my life's chapter, around the corner we never know But all I can say to the above, around me continues to glow .

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet | |

Tinge Of Purple Rests Within My Heart

Tinge Of Purple Rests Within My Heart

Tinge of purple rests within my tired heart
Soft touches of a heavy old soul
Now pulling on my heavy empty cart
Often my world seems to be lumps of coal.

I heard thumps of acorns falling on down
That majestic oak sheds its little seeds
Old age has me feeling like a sad clown
Longing to ride again, runaway steeds

Tis winter! Culprit bringing its bleak cold
Seeds resting secure in the frozen ground
Spring will come and they rise out very bold
Yet again life comes right on around

Nature teaches us, all will be alright
Life and death matches just like day and night

Robert J. Lindley, 1-26-2016

Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line:	
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables:	140
Total # Lines:	17  (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:	 
Total # Words:	107

NOTES: 
 1. My muse woke me at 4 am to write this.
I told her no but she nagged until I rose to
do the deed. I' tell ya , I want to strangle her
sometimes but then at other times love her to
death..
 2. The immediate repetition of the word "heavy" in verses two and three is intentional and used for effect, as both the old soul and its life's burdens are now currently found to be very heavy to bear. Poet's prerogative , norms be damned says I. 



Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Old Age

It came upon me unawares
As I bargained to make a living.
Thus absorbed in daily cares
The years I deemed forgiving.

Getting old was ages away
I told myself each new year.
"I'm still young," I liked to say,
"I'm certain to stay right here."

But the clock began to chime
Messages in muted tones.
I was running out of time,
A blackening in the bones.

I felt it too in others' acts
Addressing me as sir.
They excused my mislaid facts
Ever pretending I didn't err.

A godly mercy attends old age,
The past becomes a blur.
It eases one off life's stage
Thinking things that never were.

Copyright © Paul Schneiter | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

My funeral

Remember me like the holocaust 
Many die without having the chance to live
Millions of them without a funeral
Bury them with a casket full of bouquets

Remember me like the Great Depression
Markets crashing from the sky
People try to find a new hope 
Bury them with a casket full of bouquets 

Remember me like Abraham Lincoln
Innocence died before it had the chance to discover freedom
Bruises and wounds, too much hate to move on 
Bury them with a casket full of bouquets 

Remember me like the Pope
Always forgiving and justifying the facts
Way up in the clouds we all go,
Bury them with a casket full of bouquets 

Remember me like Martin Luther King Jr.
Giving up my own rights to end segregation
Bloody violence in the streets God bless us all
Bury them with a casket full of bouquets 

Remember me like the kids from Columbine
Assault rifles and bullets stray in the high school cafeteria 
Empty souls and dreams fill the school with ghostly thoughts 
Bury them with a casket full of bouquets

Remember me like the people on 9/11 
Jumping a hundred stories to avoid burning
All the innocent blood spilled because of the Middle East
Bury them with a casket full of bouquets 

Remember me like the Pharaoh
Build me a temple and a shrine
Put everything in tomb that reminds me of life
Bury me with a casket full of bouquets  

Copyright © Trent Turney | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Grandpa's Autumn


bird songs drift through the tall Autumn trees and
photographs are floating in my mind and conversations echo 
in the deep, crumbling amber gold leaves falling 
an old man with a walker gets into a car with gnarled hands that I love
blanket on lap  magnifying glass  words blurred meaningless  
raging river view with cold waves crashing, remember the pier Grandpa
ahead is the endless winding road to nowhere
I miss you most of all Grandpa when Autumn leaves start to fall
and horses gallop in the changing fields, wild and free
bird feeder on the deck, tweet and twitter, twitter, 
staring for hours, Grandpa where did you go  a little boy fishing off a pier
playing with your leaping dog  hospital bed in living room
at the dining room table   cannot hold the fork    let me help you Grandpa  
sparkling sun on the water   kids jumping off dock   fishing
long ago  echoes    falling red leaves... Grandpa   Grandpa 
water dripping, oh see the rain on the window  blurred fragments  fall apart
gulping for air   cannot breathe  the birds are at the bird feeder  singing
darkness and silence   peacefulness   glittering sun
yes Lord I am ready  . . . . 
empty hospital bed  empty wheelchair   girl weeping at the window
I miss you most of all Grandpa when Autumn leaves start to fall
and horses gallop in the changing fields, wild and free
oh every bird song drifting whispers to me of you 
_____________________________
April 26, 2016

Free Verse

Inspired by the song:
Autumn Leaves, by Natalie Cole

For the contest, Golden Oldies, #2
sponsor, Teppo Gren

Second Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Haunting of Missed Opportunities

As the sands slip through the hour glass of time
harsh realization dawns,
 such as the late summer rose ceased to flourish and bloom,
while the season grows short,
dead petals scattered by cold winter winds.
Yet unlike the rose, graciously accepting it's place in the grand scheme, 
man's self awareness becomes a curse upon his consciousness, 
to possess the knowledge of his ever nearing mortality.
Life's unfinished dreams chased away by the bitter rising sun.

Copyright © JD Caperton | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic | |

10 little kids

10 little kids are messing with twine
one got strangled and then there were nine.

9 little kids are hooking up bait
one took a bite and then there were eight.

8 little kids are playing with kevin,
one got tripped and then there were seven.

7 little kids were throwing bricks,
one got hit and then there were six.

6 little kids are eating chives,
one got sick and then there were five.

5 little kids are now at war,
one went down and now there are four.

4 little kids saw reality,
one enjoyed and now there are three.

3 little kids went to Timbuktu,
one got lost and now there are two.

2 little kids have spun and spun,
one fell down and now there is one.

1 little kid is all but done,
he runs home and now there are none. 

-ShadowFlame431

Copyright © victoria ward | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

The Box

A box under the bed holds my whole life 
Letters from my first love who later became my wife
The shoes from my daughter’s first steps 
To the flower she held as I walked her down the aisle 
I’ll always be your baby she said with a smile
The watch my dad wore as he slipped away 
I stood by his side the watch stop ticking that day
The promise ring I gave my darling before we wed 
I’ll never forget the tears or the words she said 
A photo of my mother in her younger years
Looking at that photo brings me to tears
Cancer took her smile grace and hair
I lost it when I lost her it just wasn’t fair
So a box under the bed means a lot to me 
Containing my whole life and what use to be 

Copyright © Alberta Richardson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Salaam | |

Yeh khaalipan


Jab Meri Bechaini Mit Jayegi
Jab Mere Dilko Sukoon Mil Jayega
Yeh Khaalipan Mit Jayega

Do Pal Ki Chandni Ke Liye
Aj Bhi Zinda Hoon Main
Meri Khaamoshi Ke Ageh Aasmaan Bhi Khatam Ho Jayega

Kehne Ke Liye Toh Roz Marta Hoon Main
Thoda Aur Marne Ke Liye
Yeh Deewana Kal Phir Ayega

Copyright © shadab shaikh | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bio | |

Outside looking In

Im going to tell you a story about a girl.
She was smart, and ready to take on the world.
Had a hard childhood with her mother always ill,
but her father worked hard and struggled to pay the bills.
My name is Pam and the poem your about to read,
Is a interesting poem, all about me.
I started to feel depression and pain,
at the age of 15 I was snorting cocaine.
I got pregnant at a young age and wanted to explore,
So I walked right out of my families door.
Time went on and I was still not around,
My mom grew sicker and dad wearing a frown.
Not much longer until I experienced this change,
and tragic horrible hurt and feeling of pain.
I walked in that room ,and climbed in the bed
I layed down beside him, and layed down my head.
With my hear I could hear his heartbeat.
The next thing I new we were burying him six feet deep.
At the funeral they said she was in a better place,
but it just wasnt fair to see that look on her face.
My mom that is she died with my dad,
She may have been breathing but always so sad
Two years later she decided to give up,
her faith was gone and hope for luck up.
Thats when I really started to struggle,
barely getting by and forgetting that i was mother.
She seen me drift into a dark place,
I started loosing weight in my stomach and my face.
Before I new it I was always getting high,
Weeks became months, and time flew right by
Its to bad that I chose this new path I was on ,
Because on August 11Th I got a call saying my mother was gone.
Like a replay I walked into that room,
to see her lying there as stiff as a broom.
I layed down beside her and rubbed my fingers
through her hair , but the pain I was feeling I just couldn't bare.
You would think after loosing my mom and my dad,
Anything else wouldnt seem near as bad
Within four years I had nothing left,
My child was taken for my foolish regrets.
Just me and my addiction no more tears to cry,
so many different ways that I could get high.
I would like to introduce this powerful drug,
It bring nothing but bad when I was searching for love.
The name is crystal, Crystal Meth
The one thing in the world, I wish I had never met...

Copyright © Pam Siddall | Year Posted 2012

Details | Italian Sonnet | |

Erotic Death

Their erotic death or life eternally,
Directed trance like powers of eyes.
Along with blindness of surprise,
Delivers humanities lustful dormancy,
Creating a new formal entity,
The power that sparks darkening skies,
Lurid scheme of evil does disguise.
Enticingly becomes the destiny.

Transformations brought forth.
One bite brings immortal youth.
Never to grow old, what worth,
Ignoring legitimate truth,
Whether by choice or not henceforth,
We walk upon night in sleuth.


written for contest
Poems from the Vampire!

Cecil Hickman

Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Aging

I rise to face yet still more life again
And know my day will be about my age
Through sight that makes all things appear opaque
I hear about each third word spoken clear.

I walk with cane a slow but sure tempo
And get to where I aim without much fuss
Yet still it seems I burden those who care
To take the time to bare my years nonpluss. 

Each time I rise to face my life once more
Trumps thoughts of laying still without regard
For pains one takes to move upon this earth
Or see and hear with clarity implored.

I thank my Lord for each new day He gives
And givers who see beyond one’s struggle
With patience and always kind words spoken
Dignity and respect to me maintained.

Copyright © Michael Wegman | Year Posted 2014