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Death Dance Poems | Death Poems About Dance

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

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Details | Free verse | |


Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Michael Jackson (4)

You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.

               Do you ask me why does my sorrow flow so
               Endlessly for him? Is he not gone the way 
               Of men that many went before? O I do know
               My time may not be long, and lessons delay.
               Who do think was the man in the mirror? did
               You see us there, did you know it oppressed him
               When like wanton dogs drugged and rabid
               Went heedless along the callous way being dim.

Look at the dance videos again, tell me
You see the what he begs to beat it. Off the wall
Are shadows falling like an inner expose
Where he internalized the world, and yet did call
In many songs - his troubled world was us
But now the king's sun set to dust, and we
Remain to heed and weep the vanity of lust
The tangled truths of out tentacled history!

                  Michael was God's gift to our season, and how I
                  Wish he would dance for me across the tribal plains
                  Of Africa again, where warriors ride in the sky
                  Through the fire make us brothers without chains
                  A global oneness where dreams deny the child
                  Nothing again. O death, what oneness beyond this
                  Can we find? Treat him kindly there, be mild
                  To him who in this troubled life knew no bliss.

Michael I miss you; O genius, sleep now in peace
The storms of life are over, the lightning ends
And droughts will come again, but I'll never cease
To proclaim your virtues to foes and friends;
Sleep beloved. Your glory stream in summer's eye
And Harlem's street are filled, old men remember
And old women interrupt their planning to cry
Farewell, Michael ... the grandest star is but an ember.

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

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 
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?
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 | Narrative | |

The Ghost Dance

A shaman prays, the Spirit hears
While a Seventh Calvary regiment waits
Unarmed, a tribe endures a Union's hate
Their animosities, and their fears
As the blue coats begin to circle...
Their wrath begins to circle.

That shaman saw but a single Spirit
That was split between different beliefs
He could accept the white Spirit Chief
But the white men would not hear it
They would not blend their God
With the red heathen God.

Anger explodes behind powdered shot
Spraying death from muzzled shame
Cruelly winning their ill gotten fame
Painted heroes claim a tainted spot
History claims the Ghost Dance...
As death claims the last dance.

A Dakota creek runs darkly red
Forever silencing the Ghost Dance
A chanting shaman dies in his trance
One hundred fifty Sioux lay dead
Now, only blue coats remain...
Only the blue remain.

A creek ran red with Union shame
When a shaman called the Spirit Great
And that Spirit did not hesitate
He fell on Wounded Knee and came
To take His people home...
His people swiftly home.

                                     Timothy I. Brumley

Copyright © Timothy Brumley | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

One last dance before you leave

As he sat there watching her die....  Memories of yesterday ran through his mind as he reminisced about their life together..

Will you have one last dance before you leave?
Just to hold you in my arms and feel you close
hear you breathe as we slowly move our feet
Remember when we were young, our first dance?
Two crazy kids being silly to tunes on the radio
I told you that I loved you and we would be together forever,
but you told me I was crazy and things never worked out that way
Oh my sweetheart, I have been by your side ever since
but, I guess you were right, nothing lasts forever
Don't time move fast, especially when you are having fun
but, everyone has to leave in the end when it stops
So many memories you leave behind- but also your heart
You take my heart with you and keep it safe
Your wine glass will remain empty - no need to fill
and you never taught me how to make that pie
I assume, there will be no more wine nor pie...
No more taste of your lips or someone to hold my hand
There will be an empty space now when I lay down
when I wake up I will never see those eyes staring back at me
No one to hold when it gets cold, just your pillow, I suppose
The children will miss their mamma, so I must be strong
can't show no weakness to our grandchildren - how will I tell
I am so jealous of God, because he will have you now
I will just be another lonely old guy - no one will care
Soon you will be in a better place and you may get distracted
but wait for me, we will be together soon...

28 October 2015

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme royal | |

The Final Dance

The Final Dance

Death is that final dance we face in life,
He comes for us whether one’s young or old,
Courage is the answer to this sad strife,
Which means fear not this specter—be ye bold!
And prepare now your soul as God has told;
Death appears dark as Heaven’s light shines bright;
Angels bear ye now so true in God’s light!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
October 18, 2015 (Rhyme Royal)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric | |

The Dance

                                               The Dance

                                             Dance she said
                                             As this short life
                                             Nears it end.
                                             Dance she said
                                             Nothing I can do
                                             But leave this pain
                                             As I fade from you.

                                             Dance she said
                                             Try to remember
                                             A heart that bled.  
                                             Dance she said
                                             Be as one together  
                                             Before I must depart
                                             Our love forever.

                                             Dance she said
                                             Hold arms around me
                                             As my eyes circle red.
                                             Dance she said 
                                             Glide me as before
                                             While music echoes
                                             Across this floor. 

                                             Dance she said
                                             Catch my falling tears
                                             And things all unsaid.
                                             Dance she said
                                             Moments light my face
                                             With visions of heaven
                                             This our last embrace.   

Copyright © William Gray | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

I Feel Like Dancing

Drink me ill this pleasure still,
And cure me with your poisoned pills-
Before I lose all my strength,
But, oh! I lost that long ago!
Dreamily dancing to and fro...
With legs of lead and no feet to stand,
And a phantom partner to hold my hand
A languid trance and lulled Romance
To seize me whole in its expanse
Never I yield, though quite out of breath-
Drunkenly dancing in the Depths Of Death


Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

''We Will Dance Again''

This is the story of a real murder . . . 

I was just five years old and was in my bedroom playing,
     we had just moved into to this cozy little basement apartment;
mommy was talking to a man, who was yelling something about money,
          then everything went quiet and I came to see what was happening.

Mommy was laying on the floor with eyes like my dolls,
     lifeless, and this man I had seen before was standing there;
I ran to mommy, "wake up mommy wake up!" But she was so still,
           the man told me he would take me to my daddy who lived not far.

Crying and weeping for my mommy and daddy loudly,
     the man told me to, "shut up!" But I couldn't I was afraid;
he stopped the car near a huge field and pulled me out shouting,
          I dropped my teddy on the side of the road and I was fighting him.

When mommy did not show up for work the police came,
     they found her body and knew she had been murdered;
an amber alert was issued for me (but I was already long dead),
         after three days they found my lifeless body in that rural field.

Hundreds gathered for our funeral, family and strangers,
    there was music and dancing because we loved to dance;
the talkers were full of thoughts and memories and even poems,
        me and mommy were united in life and would be forever in death.

The man had dragged me into the field and I was yelling,
     yelling for daddy to come and then he stopped my voice;
he put his hands on my throat and then threw my small body,
          as I lay there looking up with dead eyes- there was a rainbow.

I saw a double rainbow and then my beautiful mommy,
    was holding me, I asked her why that man murdered us,
she told me, "because I owed him money and I made a mistake,"
         our spirits will live on she said, but we will not rest in peace yet,

     she whispered, "soon, my daughter we will dance again in heaven . . . "
August 12, 2016


For the Premiere contest, Through Their Eyes #2
sponsor, Shadow Hamilton

First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Michael Jackson (3)

You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.

                  O day most callous like the callous world, how
                   Did you come about? By whose love designed,
                   Whose genius bore him, gave him life? O now
                   Do tell us of his human coming, since maligned
                   It's oft forgotten that he was somebody's child
                   Context in a world where his skin was reviled:
                   And yet some marveled that he parted from it
                   To build a world different from base to summit.

Genius is a gift and not a choice, and he was all
A moment's glimpse of earth's troubled paradise
For Michael was not mere mortal he was our tall
Selves transformed to art, so nuanced to the wise
That understood how his dance moves were silk
Syllables of protest and regret, a symbol cocooned
In loneliness, a man pining for the rare social milk
Of happiness against a material breast, festooned

                    With a race unhappiness. He was more than we
                    Saw with naked eye, Michael was an artist true
                    Context in all our history. And yet his mortality
                    Was not less not vulnerable due to fame, a blue
                    Note then sing for him, remember this day's despair
                    How the fickle fans in fragile praise came again
                    Away from the media's maddening glare to share
                    This moment of dark our universal deluge of pain.

O Indiana, this is your son, O America this here
Is your native child, weep here ye poets, weep
For him, the poet of the broken soul, Let no tear
Leave a eye that's dry for the lullaby of his sleep
Come ye world that felt his charity, beg angels
Hear us and welcome him; Michael, forever we 
Will keep our hearts beating for you, in citadels
Of shining peace when your songs bring memory. 

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

Details | ABC | |

There is a place

There is a place you can go that is full of only love and Warmth .
you will be surrounded by a light that shines from the Heavens ,
Sprinkles of Silver and Gold. 

This place is filled with brilliant colors of Purple , vibrant Gold, all colors.
not one Color is less significant then another ,
for every color is equal here .

This place is surrounded by the beauty of different Flowers.
All flowers have significance here . No one Flower is better then another .
All Flowers are equal here .

It is important you know , you can cry here , and should cry as often as needed .
For  the tears will cleanse your Soul and give the Flowers water to grow.
No  one Tear is insignificant here , every tear has value and not one is better then another .

 money holds no value ,  Where you live , what you own,  has no significance here .

You will be surrounded by a beautiful light that shines from the Heavens .
A shining warm light will encircle you and allow nothing to hurt you . 
Hate will be shed at the door like an old jacket of no use. 

There is a place of beauty and  Worth.
This place will not be found on Earth .
It is a place where no one person is better then another .

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Father Daughter Dance

Father Daughter Dance

He told her “don't you worry”, but he'd be a little late.
He promised when he made it home he would take her on a date.
She squealed in her excitement, soon they would be together.
She was only ten years old, she said “It feels like it's been forever”.

Smiling as he thought of her one thousand miles away.
He thinks about the little girl he wishes she could stay.
Through the truck stop window the Greyhound bus pulled in.
He told her that his ride was there but he'd call her again.

The farthest things from his mind were shadows, pain or death.
Somehow he missed the whiskey that was on the drivers breath.
With happy thoughts of life and love and a date he planned to keep.
Quietly he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly it all went wrong! He thought he was still dreaming.
He heard the sound of bending steel and he heard people screaming.
His body pitched right through the air and landed in the grass.
With cuts across his face and brow from crashing through the glass.

“Dear God my leg is broken!” “Sweet Jesus come save us!”
He stood up from the cold damp grass and climbed back on the bus.
One by one he saved them all he called them by their names.
As he carried the last one out the bus burst into flames.

Injured people everywhere yet no one spoke right to him. 
When he tried to calm their fears they seemed to look right through him.
In the distance flashing lights and sirens filled the air.
Then he saw five feet from him, his body lying there.

It suddenly was all a blur like trying to see through water.
Instantly he was right there and standing by his daughter.
Searching through her dresser drawers not knowing he was there.
She looked through her dresses to see which one to wear.

He saw the light that came for him, he sent the light away.
He couldn't break his daughters heart so he chose just to stay.
A much more precious love than this I doubt a man can find.
It didn't break his daughters heart, instead it broke her mind.

Eight years slowly made their way she had an understanding mom.
Who arranged a father daughter dance the night she went to prom.
She danced and twirled the song away all they could do was stare.
As she danced more than a glance they all saw her father there.

She dances in her room sometimes when she starts feeling bad.
They swear she dances all alone but she's dancing with her dad.
She talks about the day someday she'll be with him forever.
And tells him of the date they had it was better late than never.

Edwin C Hofert

Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse | |

he is leaving home

                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face ,  something hard to understand underneath~
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                      he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes 
                      bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                            his  world of secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~

           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "


Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy | |


"Daddy" the way I call my father
The man who loves my mother
The man who gave life to me
And the man who will risks his life to protect his family.

He's not showy about his feelings
But I know he loves us unconditionally
He gets angry when his siblings were hurt
And he makes us laugh the way he dances and tells us jokes

Now..he left us already
His silly jokes,crazy dance moves now were gone
Coz he went to a far away land
In a place where  hurt and sorrow has no place in man

I miss my daddy a lot
His voice,
His jokes,
His crazy dance moves
And his being father to us
I miss everything about him!

I know God has a plan
And I give everything into His merciful hand
Pls.take care ofmy daddy in heaven
Coz someday we'll see him again
And continue the sing and dance with him again...

Copyright © Jerica Sanchez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 14 Eyes

      face, etched with deep lines
    dark sadness pools in the eyes
        lost in death . . . daughter

For all who have loved and lost

David Meade
Live Generously

Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Indian Summer, Part III

The winds of Winter wait,
Whispering to me of the approaching future,
But still far off, biding their time
Until this span of light and warmth has lasted out its stay.

     Meantime, I engage myself in taking stock;
     Compiling the days that define myself to myself
     Enlarging the catalog so far as I can,
     Building up a narrative.

So many memories
Like fireflies in a Summer's night
Flash through the dark spaces of my mind.

Childhood: Flash
                            Youth: Flash
Young Parenthood: Flash
                                         Empty Nest: Flash.

Family, friends, events
Joys, sorrows, beginnings, endings -
All make their flickering passages;
All paint their images onto me  

     The particles dance and shift
     Cells die to be replaced
     The face in the mirror becomes my father's
     Molecule by molecule
     With each passing instant.

     The particles dance and shift
     Moving back towards the dark unknown
     From which they came,
     Yet somehow in the midst of it
     The I that was
                              And am
                                            And shall be
     Remains to watch the long parade unfold.

And that parade, banal and fantastic,
Marches past that inside window where I watch to see myself pass by,
As some newer self shall do the same through all tomorrows
Until the day when all the marching stops for me -

     And then, my fellow marchers,
     O my many, varied Loves,
     On that last Winter's day,
     Where will we be,
     Where will we be?

     What musics shall we hear?
     What wonders might we see?



Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2012

Details | Tail-rhyme | |

The witches winds are blowing

 The Santa Ana's are here, and the moon is clear. 
There is a mystic in the air that whispers in my ear.
  Is this a peaceful feeling or does it carry fear ? 

What is the passion and hot fragrence of orange blossom that is pulling me a different way , as if this power has been sent only by a Witch of the finest of White Magic, only to calm the Blue Soul I have known my whole life.

 I feel a passion that is running through my Veins like the  power of water itself .
As if the Moon itself were instructed to warm the air that is blowing . It is not a new moon , it is not a old moon , it is a moon that appears only in ones lifetime to gaze at .

 By seeing and feeling the very power of this Moon you will dance your way to Heaven with happiness of what is yet to come.
The Stars around this Moon are unique as if they take the presence of every loved one you and I have lost . 

The Witches winds with the warm glowing of the moon, as if I had never met you before , are blowing with the frangerence of Orange Blossom or Magnolia , from a distant past of The South.
As if I know we have been together once before , a Moon such as this . In a peaceful , lustful state of Bliss.

 There is something coming .. is it something I have always known or wanted ?

 What is yet to be known is as intoxicating as the Santa anas that are running through my body.
 As if i have been struck by the power of light , as the powerful moon I gaze at in the Night.
It is piercing my soul with it's only Truth, 
                                            Shanity Rain 

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |


Sin's a siren.  Sin brings pleasure
A tempting fruit grows from that tree
Within its walls there is a treasure
Of pain and death and agony
And though its hosts are always killed
Its appetite is never filled
So they dance the dance of catacombs
With ghosts and ghouls and dead mens bones
What a party that must be
Boring worms quite literally

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy | |

last dance

Last Dance
It was a beautiful day A day of celebration, a day of thrill It was the day of my sister’s 18th birthday The most waited day of a girl to be a lady and I? I was a girl that time and all I have to do is to Observe and cooperate And it was our most anticipated moment To witness that celebration and to witness our dear father as the first dance of my sister who was missing us for many years because of separation. Yet we didn’t know that, that would be the first and very last day of the year that we’ll see him His body was so thin His face looks sickly and heartbreaking He looks so different But he remained calm and at ease Michael Gan the first rose, He stands and overwhelmingly danced for my sister They turned and sway They dance like it was the last He was overjoyed Filled with different emotions Happy, touched, sad, missing us, and regretting His heart jumped over him He tries to catch his breath touching his own chest We hasten him to the nearest sickbay To salvage his life His precious life, my father Battling from death, loses his fight His eyes wide open, no air No movements, no smile because... It was his last dance

Copyright © Ana Mae Gan | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sestina | |

cursed to exhale

If i could exhale, really exhale,
To expire the rubble of the ages, 
1000 years of dread off my belly,
and my fingertips once so dainty
then could grasp stars and not burn,
 I dig my face into the dirt and find eternity.

i gazed into the jackals eyes and he spoke to me from eternity
he said "follow closely so that i might teach you to exhale
and maybe dear in return a smile upon your face will burn"
an expression lost on my brittle jaw for ages
so i walk upon the crust of the earth now bruised and dainty
yet i feel growth between my toes and swelling in my belly

woe does bewilderment plague me here, tearing up my belly
then a soft green garden snake cradles me into eternity,
i watch her curl and dance across the soil of this dainty
room, she looks back from her slither reminding me to exhale,
have i been lost for all these ages?
or have i simply been afraid to burn?

and thus so is it my place to burn?
for i feel welcomed and smooth yet i have poison in my belly
and tomorrow i will remember the pain of the ages
may i retain the knowledge of eternity
or become bodily again when i exhale?
or have no question that my thoughts and ideas are dainty

i have visions of my presence siting crossed and dainty
breathing barley and quiet as i burn
surrounded by a castle of tones that bring me to exhale
into the mouth of god and back into my belly
i feel my self escaping and gasping for eternity
coming back down to the end of my ages

i could sit and cry for the death of the ages 
but this life i despise growing and rooting, dainty
yes, paltry no, and tattering for the rest of my eternity
yet i recall the jackal and his feet where the earth does burn
and i miss the poison in my belly
it not escapes me, but it crusades me to exhale.

before and after the ages, the world will burn and my body will lie dainty 
on the ground filling her great belly with the poison of eternity cursed to exhale.

Copyright © xtevie fernandez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

RAVENOUS ELDRITCH WRATH a collab with Olive Eloisa Guillermo


The darkening skies in choir of wrath;
The wind brisk banging blows;
The withering of trees;
The falling twirling leaves;
The branches sudden irate tweak and split.

Giving way to the rushing threat of death
Will another candle die in it's final flicker of light?

From afar

High hasty orisons a gong in melancholic play
Voice of mournings didn't save the day
Only shrills that echoes in elevated ebb

Sullen faces white as powdered chalk
Sprung to view when moon casts its glow
Bloodshot eyes a plague ready to pierce and blow
Dark coloured lips close and open to rumble slow:

"Sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name.
sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name."

Again and again they chant-
As they go round and round
Stopping awhile to kneel 
Then raise their hands up in the air.

[their shadows sleek as serpentine hiss
casting chills in the catacombs'  wall]

On the centre...

A blindfolded lady in white hangs on logs of X
Her tied arms spread left to right
Her legs set apart but truss tight

Down to where the log stands
A black man half-naked in mask holds a whip
Slashing it side by side in quick thunder thudding trips

A quietness abounds as the chanting stops
This eerie eldritch silence eating into the night
She of the above allows rays to glisten:
"Moon of the dark, tranced faces listen"

I of the numbered, tattooed, scribed, scored
Command you to stand, heathens, my horde!

Silence is shattered by the cracking of his whip
Lacerating white linen, now in reddened seep
Cries turn to howls, the beating of this beast
Joyous dancing tongue, rasping at this feast

Faces now morose. Excitement high! Incite
Darkened desires in crave, this mooned night
Slowly he walks towards this writhing tethered
Taken, she will be forsaken. Feathered!

His hands against the X, his face leans
Asp tasting, touching drawing red
Dressage of white, now cast, her flesh
Hungered, undaunted, heathens chanting

"Sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name.
sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name."

Now taken, clouds drift amidst cobalt blue
An empty soul lies listed, under darkened hue
Spores now carried, bedded, soon they'll born
Every one a number, forever they'll adorn
Heathens, oh! chanting ones, bow, now sworn

I of the numbered, tattooed, scribed, scored
Bow, chant, blindfolded, taken, your now adored.

© James Fraser and Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Written October 17, 2014

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Going Nowhere

Slow motion memories.
Street lit like a movie set,
outside the dance hall.
Muffler-less cars,
full throttle, then eerily quiet.
Self willed machines idling along the street,
flooding the night; flashing eyeballs,
headlining teenage girls.
A sashaying crush; glancing, giggling,
disdainful in stinging beehives,
plastic jackets, high gloss paint and oily pants.

Cruising crass flash
false virility in high gloss paint.
James Dean on Sunset Strip.
Hands on the stick shift; giving themselves the gears.
skinny boys glancing in the mirror, where dice and kewpie dolls hang,
squinting at astigmatisms of Steve McQueen on hunk steroids.
Nervous to fingered combs slink through their hair,
checking out the rear end drive,
outside the dance hall on a Friday night.

A curly haired boy,
red faced brother of my best friend, never owned a car,
pushes forward in the street,
to talk with sister and friends.
Asked a girl for a kiss.
Too easily dismissed.

In the science lab; class dismissed.
Counters gleam grade A sterility.
Chemicals stare coldly from spotless beakers.
Put his mouth over the gas jet.

A curly haired boy,
going nowhere on a Friday afternoon.

Copyright © Eileen Bell | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

I am shy

I get nervous in front of crowds
my first words are usually shaky
I can stand straight but take a few steps 
in a direction corresponding with that awkward moment
you realize
everyone is listening, interpreting, judging, sympathizing
just trying to understand
the first time I gave a speech was 6th grade
the teacher said its hard speaking in front of a class
who wants to try?
I got brave and took the spotlight
only to find I was blinded
and at a loss for words
show and tell was stress
I ate my silence
I just want to connect, on a grande scale
fast, quick, and easy
The only speaking that mattered 
was my great grand mothers funeral
I was the oldest of a generation
I spent a while getting my thoughts down
what I said lasted only a few minutes
the words echo in my head
have been
and probably will till death
I want to lead a group into chaos
get everyone to dance
become wild creatures fleeting on our fairest fancies
seek joy and fearlessly love
express in a healthy way
be aware
I'm just trying to connect
I am shy

Copyright © Davin Payne | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The Storm

And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain 
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body 
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions 
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence 
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth 
I stand among the reeds in the basin 
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back 
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away 
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground 
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own 
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet | |


Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?

Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.

And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.

I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep. 

Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.

And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Another Day, Hope Returns

Another Day, Hope Returns

Another day,
sparrows still fly
death visits and we ask not why

Another night,
moon still glows
death visits, why nobody knows

Another morn,
sun still shines
death visits, clings like vines

Another fate,
shadows still flee
death visits, just not for me

Another life,
tomorrow brings
hope returns, heart now sings!

Robert J. Lindley 10-08-2014

Blues sent a message, wake up..
I put down my empty coffee cup..
Flung the saucer out the back door..
that your worst, give me more..
Laughter slid across the lawn..
light then lit this great new dawn..

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse | |

Short Shift Betrayal

Poem for contest: Short Shift, prison,
 betrayal, dance, death, death of a friend, destiny,, food,

Short Shrift Betrayal! 

Governor's out to dine and dance
With important guests who count
Invitation requested to attend 
One five star restaurant uptown
Menu fair is set for seven courses
Savannah cigars and vintage wine
Will be served before and after meals
All timed for 10:00 and  well before 
Midnight when a dance is to be staged
Toasts before and after dinner is a given 

One guest of the Governor's will not attend
Unless the invitation to get away arrives
But he is in for a special treat if not
An execution dinner has been prepared
Prison chef does his five star best to comply
To the wishes for this last dinner course 
Of just roast turkey with all the trimmings
Provided with paper hats and prizes gifted 
In a traditional Christmas wrapped cracker
And all this sent below at 10:00 right on the dot
To be eaten in plenty of time before the ‘last call’
When this prisoner  becomes the  Governor's guest
To ‘walk the line’downtown into a cold lit private room 
Made of steal to sit in the 'chair'at midnight 
Where electrocution will make him dance his last
And his last words will be I'm innocent!

Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |


The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.

21 February 2013

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |


Like trees extending and rising,
there's a sameness in our being...
to grow under a nurturing sun
'till we reach our end and begone!

If existence is an illusion of reality,
less thought is given to mortality;
and engaging in song and dance,
who expects fate to pull a prank? 

As clouds appear to cover cerulean spaces,
rain is anticipated: our first reaction is fret, 
and by freezing smiles, we expect the worst;
why be afraid of something that amazes?   

There's no cessation to relentless fear, 
and so denial persists to block senses;
what's the true purpose of being here:
to exult ourselves and our ambiance? 

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2014