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Elegy Death Poems | Elegy Poems About Death

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Details | Elegy | |

Shine

Shine as a source of endless light
whose rainbows of colour deter the night
where daydreams are gentle as doves in flight
and sleep the sleep of angels

Shine like a shower of soft moonbeams
Inhabit the sea of a thousand dreams
where laughter and love are timeless themes
and sleep the sleep of angels

Shine like the sun in a golden sky
On warm, sultry evenings, a fragrance, a sigh
an echo of summer as life passes by
and sleep the sleep of angels

Copyright © Greta Robinson | Year Posted 2005

Details | Elegy | |

Causalities of War

.                                                     Beneath a blanket of earth
                                                     With a pillow made of stone
                                                       Her child eternally sleeps
                                                                    
                                                                   ~~~

.                                                     While at the foot of his bed
                                                           She stands alone
                                               And weeps! And weeps! And weeps!


.                                                  Written:  November 20th, 2009
                                                    Author:  Elaine George

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2009

Details | Elegy | |

The Last Gold Leaf

The last gold leaf hangs on the bough;
Summer is just a mem'ry now.
You, too, have gone, my golden friend;
Our summer days came to an end.

We said goodbye; our chapter closed.
 How I will miss you no one knows.
 On eagle wings you split the skies;
Your spirit soared. You had to fly.

My earthbound soul will bear its grief
Severed from you on mortal reef;
But returning from yonder shore,
Your love in waves will wash me o'er.

You've gone before, my trusted love;
I wait behind, your mourning dove;
Yet, from across the great divide
Your voice to me in dreams confides.

No, I think not that dreams they are;
T is communion of the near with far.
On such sweet songs I stake my claim
To know and love you once again.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy | |

I Need Your Help Daddy

I’m tired
I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here

I can’t get back in control of my emotions 
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy

I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help 

Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance 
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help






Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy | |

The Stone

Alone in a meadow in the pouring rain
I find the stone that causes all my pain,
As I stumble through the fog in disbelief
I fall down upon my knees and sob in grief

The fog horn cries her mournful sound
As my heart falls down, beneath the ground
Crying out to God for mercy all in vain
To take away the stone that bears your name


Author:  Elaine George

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006

Details | Elegy | |

This Mountain Here

I remember the day I got the call.
My world fell apart.
I had lost it all.

I remember the day you were taken from me.
I knew your beautifull smile I would never again see.

They said it was a mugger and you put up a fight.
I should not have  let you go out that night.

It seems like just yesterday we fed eachother our wedding cake.
When I remember that memory my hands start to shake.

I sit in my cabin on this mountain with the sky so blue.
I won't leave. This's where I spent my honeymoon with you.

My family wants me to go back into that world, so cold.
I'm not leaving this mountain.
It's where I'll grow old.

They say your gone and will never again be.
Well, I hear what your saying. Yes, I know your talking to me.

You sit in the chair and drink my tea. 
My heart swells up when you smile at me.

They say I've gone insane and see things that aren't there.
If I'm on this mountain here why should they care?

I love you more then I did when we first found this place.
I remeber everything about you, your ellagince and grace.

Why am I not in that world full of anger and fear?
I want to be with you on this mountain here.

Copyright © Misty Hoot | Year Posted 2006

Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Michael Jackson (4)

Refrain
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 | Elegy | |

ELEVEN;ELEVEN;ELEVEN

Chill breath of autumn
Sears the poppy scarlet red,
On his memory'd cenotaph.

Tears trickle in the furrowed
Faces of young comrades
.....now long dead

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007

Details | Elegy | |

I Only Understand Now

We talked at length
The hours we passed
The life you lived
Oh the horrors 
So many men's live snuffed
Oh Arizona, a dedication
Whose souls be at rest
Amidst oily scum
And so many others
Sightless eyes watch
The world in disintegration.
Yes, you’ve seen
Many unimaginable horrors
Those only Man can inflict
You’ve grasped my heart
I watched you whither away
A hero by all accounts
God rest your soul
Oh gentle man.
God rest ye gentle man.
My heart aches
With your passing
Now I have your cherished one
She that you know
Rested in my heart
For years and years and years
The one that tended you
All that time
Oh yes, that woman of women
She is in my arms
Forever… my very first love
The thought of whose love
Brings tears to my eyes
Together… finally…
Forever.
Never
Worry…
Never
Forget…
Just so you know…

Semper Fidelis... you are my hero Donald Canan,USMC, WWII veteran Western 
Pacific... he told death to get bent. May God Rest your soul.



Copyright © Michael Santner | Year Posted 2007

Details | Elegy | |

Abrading Volley

Rainfall washing
Light splashes on windowpane…

Leaving nothing behind
No pattern or trace…

If only those tears
Anguishly wept for you…

Upon your deathbed
Had washed away…

Cleansing the pain
That even now abrades my spirit…

Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2008

Details | Elegy | |

Remission (In Memory of William Watt).

Birth begins the tragedy in us. Life's
First sound is a blank scream
Against sorrow's hidden portends of strifes
All we know are mirages and dream.

Mother took the news staring at the sky
She must have cried inside
For I have no evidence else. There's no why
For it ... how my rage defied
Her callous front ... he was her first boy
The only hero she spoke well
Of, his name was the formula for joy
In our house: anecdotes tell
Of his escapades ... youth defying fate
He had a cat's tenacity for life
And from evil wills found a golden gate
Of scholarship and exotic wife.


I remember when the years pulled him back
All he came with was a bag
Of books, and a couple suits in novel sack
His eyes time warped, a lag
Of missing years and loneliness enfolding him
But he was handsome still
And my soul cartwheeled at joy's fresh brim
Those moments that he filled
When eyes first contact spelled pride to claim
This aristocrat like a medal
I could wear. So young he was, her true flame
The son of love's sweet recital!

And many days sitting in his shadow, I heard
Him dream big things like stars
Far away, warm things like a fluttering bird
Things made bright to cover scars
In the sore of memory. His mind was his cliff
A risky place in the high winds
And closer to the edge for the Grail he'd drift
O how the giddy world spins!
He died in Kingston: William came and went
And my mother looked at the sky
But until she died, about his memory was silent
And I forever wonder why.

I loved him, you know, he was the first best thing
A poor child had to claim or show
The world ... with him I was no more common. A king
He made me in his gold of glow
Something that I looked forward to meet in me. I,
Like mother, been silence since
But sometimes my heart just heave and would cry
For time this love cannot rinse
And I that moment cannot comprehend, that death
Gave no notice to his lauded day
And like common dust on a wild wind's balmy breath
My brother was swiftly swept away.

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

Details | Elegy | |

Whispering Old Cemetery


I came across an old cemetery today while exploring,
     Full of broken, toppled headstones and tangled weeds;
There was a deep hush, a whisper and a sigh, I felt tears,
          My tears were falling for long dead souls forgotten.

A tree's roots are entwined around an old, tilted stone,
     In loving memory of my husband George, born Feb, 1882;
Oh, George you were loved very much once upon a time,
           God took him, but he will not be forgotten, engraved.

And I am of the age of Aquarius too, just like you,
    I love violets and everything purple, and I am so mellow;
Oh, George were you a deep thinker, sensitive, creative,
           I get hurt easily and I always want to help people.
            
Be at peace George in your decay and ravaged grave,
     Listen to the twittering of birds this bright sunny day;
Promise, promise, I will be back to lay some purple violets,
          Forever now, dear soul, you will dwell in my heart.

Now, be still George, I heard your whisper  . . . 

____________________________
April 28, 2016

Elegy

Submitted to the contest, Any Poem Written in April 2016
sponsor, Laura Loo

First Place
_____________________________________________

Written for the contest,  Universal Acrostic Collaboration
sponsor, Steven Henderson 


First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Michael Jackson (1)

Refrain:
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.

          Did you know the king? Did you listen him sing?
          Did you hear his heart breaking like daylight
          In each song? Did you see him dance, or bring
          Your sense to space invisible wounding his flight?
          I was thirteen, just walking away from twelve in
          Time when dreams lie broken at the white wall
          I heard with his brothers five, and saw him spin
          The great magician dancing for each curtain call.

          Time spanned dust: a five year old sensation rose
          In white clouds with black glory beaming rainbow
          "Stop the love you save may your own" had expose
          The urgency of his soul: the anathema of scarecrow.
          O, but who will listen to the artist's pain? Did you
          Stop and think that rage could become so beautiful
          On stage? Michael sang and still you had no clue
          About the hell he was going through. Twas wonderful

          How he became the initiator of our reconciliation. O
          "You and I must make a pact, we must bring salvation back
          Where there is love, I’ll be there" they sang, and so
          All the while building a bridge between White and Black
          "I’ll reach out my hand to you, I’ll have faith in all you do
          Just call my name and I’ll be there" but we doomed forgot
          What cities were burning, and what he was yearning to do
          The subtext to greatness has an eternal sorrow for plot.

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

Details | Elegy | |

Farewell to Innocence

Read this if you have the time,
I'm compelled these words to write--
Seems my parent's age of innocence
Is drawing near, the light.

For the poetry and cinema,
And the songs like "Stardust," too--
Are turning to a memory
And fading from our view.

But it was an age of innocence!
I knew it as a boy.
Where has gone the happiness;
And how escaped the joy?

Still the golden age is dying
And it whispered with a breathe--
"Don't let us pass away in vain,
And dye a common death."

So forgive me if I prattle on
But it seems the thing to do--
I placed flowers on the old today,
And will now endure, the new.

Farewell ole age of innocence,
My kind and gentle friend--
Till Buddy and the Teddy Bear
Take the stage and sing again!

Copyright © Mel Merrill | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy | |

Sorrowful unto death

Sorrowful unto death
(Ecclesiastes 1:18 KJV)

He that increases true wisdom increases grief...
exposing that the knowledge of serpent did not instruct the dove,
and to know serpent knowledge is to know,
how the house of Love  was divided, that sorrow is in learning,
how many there are deceived of themselves….

                                                                       
To be harmless as a dove is to be love,
to be of a serpentine jester is to pester,
to pester life as a jester of strife...
is to be twain in total vain.
Love is oneness of twain in a wedding garment…

The trinity of infinity is the beginning of thee,
opening the sacred heart gives one options to see,
the beauty you see inside is the essence of thee,
tis also the beauty in the nature of a tree…
the nature of life’s tree eternally… 

To be is, to be, of the nature of life’s tree,
not to be, is to be, of  thine own ciestrine… 
                                                       Selah! 

Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy | |

The Death of Light

Once again befalls the night,
The birth of dark; the death of light.
The shroud that veils the light of day,
Of silk and lace does lightly lay.
And so the mourners straggle on
Each waiting for a coming dawn;
Yet this is not a common night--
T is the birth of dark...
And the death of light!

~M

Copyright © Mel Merrill | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy | |

Sometimes I wonder..........

Sometimes I wonder.........
Where will I be when I get old
Who will love me for my soul
Thoughts of loneliness cross my mind
Am I running out of time?
It’s so scary in this desolate place 
Staring out a window into space
What have I done during my time here on earth?
Who will be waiting on me?  Did I earn my worth?
Life passes by really fast
Always thought my time would last
Thinking of my people that have gone on before me
Do they know…...Is that where they’ll be?
Remembering the last smile I saw on his face
Will I have to run his same race
Will they leave me alone to think of my time of the past
Or will they surround me to celebrate and have a blast
Pictures and memories is all that’s left
Tear after tear while I take deep breaths
Stones and lettered monument will be there for me
The sunshine and the storms pass while I sleep
In this narrow place I will lie
Unable to speak, unable to cry
Thy will is done and now time moves on
Who is next?  Who will be gone?
Sometimes I wonder…………… 


By  Johnnie Eaves

Copyright © Johnnie Eaves | Year Posted 2010

Details | Elegy | |

Your Living Marked My Heart

Do others think of you the way I do,
the embryo that grew beneath my heart?

There is so little proof you lived . . .
a metal marker on a grave,
a lighter, a wallet
that they gave . . .
two certificates, official,
like parentheses -
beginning, 
end.

I sometimes see your friends . . .
on those days,
you seem alive in little ways.

Do others think of you the way I do,
the boy who grew into a man,
unspoken dreams, unfinished plans.

There is so little proof you lived . . .
some childhood books
and art, and yet . . .
how deeply carved
your living marked my heart.


© March 5, 2014, Faye Lanham Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy | |

Death In September

The flower face of the sun bloomed on you;
the corona of light

easing the passage, caressing you.
Catwalking on the bright side of life;

the false jollity, aching to laugh.
Embraces, your body in a bowl of arms,

brave waves, the last goodbye.
My own desperate clutching, as if

I were a tree sucking at the sky.
The delicate frosting on my birthday cake -

a sugary irony.
How quickly the coronal of anniversary flowers

became a wreath.
Choking on the three hundred miles

to your resting place,
the car eating the road.

Tension-riddled, the family squabbles
snapped at the air.

Alone in the pristine, starched hotel room,
propped between pillow and sheet,

stiff as rigor mortis,
my eyes ploughing a newspaper,

thoughts turned introvert and febrile.
A white envelope holding the small silver gift

of your necklace, an oyster cradling its pearl.
Your gold ring playing its warmth

on my finger, thin and white,
the September sun shining in it.

A passion flower clinging to its wire hoop,
sweating out the fragrance of late summer.

Defiant and slightly shocking in my bright patchwork skirt;
a vibrant rainbow flying in the black leer of the cortege.

Your husband
easing the great weight of his grief with Valium.

The voice of the vicar carrying,
stentorian, across the echoing expanse of church.

In your diaphanous dress you were a bride
displaying your bouquet -

the mourning arum's white head bowed.
Fine linen shrouding the table, pink curls of salmon,

water glasses floating their tiny icebergs.
Plumbing the depths of your wardrobe,

the outfits hanging limp as fish.
The room gasping in late sunlight,

heady with your Florentyna perfume and oxygen cylinders,
the light lying glassy and quiet.

Your loving memorabilia yielding to damp autumn earth.
My eyes opening to your immortality.  An immortal truth.

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2011

Details | Elegy | |

Owl's Requiem

The rising sun has set.
Night has fallen.
The plow rests,
tillage and toil finished.
The corn ear withers,
but seeds are saved.
The scrolls are opened
event recorded;
the news spread:
"The sun has set,
the old Owl has flown
into the Heavens."

Yet, the sun will rise
and peek over the horizon,
the tractor will roar,
a new crop will sprout,
Green hands will turn brown
the flag will wave,
financial accounts recorded,
hospitality offered,
and the light of brotherhood shared.

Your torch has lit fires
that flicker and flame;
The fledgling will grow
and, hopefully, become wise;
New eras and life-chapters
will begin, 
continuing the credo
as a Legacy to you:
"Learning to Do, 
Doing to Learn,
Earning to Live, 
Living to Serve."*


*National FFA Organization Motto

Copyright © Jaycee Cervenka | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

Danny



I watched a single snowflake fall from the sky I turned away for just a moment and yesterday had passed me by funny we never realized the memories we were making at the time all the laughter a few tears so many good times I just wanted to say thanks friend you are forever inside so alive..... _______________________________________________________ Danny was killed in a car accident in 2008. We all suffered a great loss... This poem tells how He will always be with me (Inside) So many sweet memories...

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2008

Details | Elegy | |

Pemaquid Point Elegy

Scatter my ashes at Pemaquid Point,
Let the wind sail them home to the sea.
Cradle of life, be my cradle in death,
And set my spirit free.

Sun will warm the daylight hours;
The lighthouse illume the night;
Waves provide rhythm and gulls give voice---
Music to ease my flight.

Eternal rocks will form my tomb,
Sand my quilt shall be,
Protecting from shipwreck and raging storms,
And I’ll become one with the sea.

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

Loss

To all who may never know
Let me try to show
The deep and heavy cost
Of having tragic loss

Confusion and disbelief
Strikes hard before the grief
Many wounds cut deep
And pain denies you sleep

Gut wrenching turmoil deep inside
Shattering sorrow you cannot hide
Heart pounding blood into your head
Wishing now, you too were dead

Clutching at your belly
For the one you loved so dearly
Crumbling from the pain
You'll never be the same

When that fateful message comes
Burning like a thousand suns
And tears of dread, sting your face
Joy makes way, for sorrow, takes it's place

The tears will go one day
This is what they say
While every day you're trying
To keep yourself from crying

Those memories together were made
These memories they will not fade
And reopen the cuts of wounds so deep
These bloodied treasures that you keep

No potion can ever mend
No dressing can ever tend
As days and months have gone away
This festering rage is here to stay

Till the time is come again
That tragic day is like a stain
That time will never be gone
Where their spirit last shone

The moment it draws near
As you fight back the tear
This pain you cannot bear
For it has been one year

As you sit back and swallow the drink
And feel your life begin to sink
And darkness comes around
The room no longer makes a sound

You sit in place and stare
No more their love to share
You pray the silence take me
From visions I do not wish to see

Ten years on today
It's still not gone away
This deep and heavy cost
This truly tragic loss

Copyright © Sean Taylor | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

Halloween and the Yellow Rose

     The day my mother was taken from me 'Halloween'
     fifty she had just turned the golden years she so much yearned
     
     Left partially in a river her body broken and bruised
     hidden from sight alone on a many twilight

     Painfully I searched for days to weeks and on
     knowing a homicide had occurred in the early morning dawn

     A man in a drug induced state with no heart of grace 'Winsette' his name
     has left me with a lifelong of memory and pain
   
     At times in my heart for him I would wish to destroy
     all the evil thoughts for him I felt I would enjoy

     But I have learned to forgive so I could liberate my soul
     even though he now walks the streets on parole

     So on Halloween night there is no candy to give
     only a memory of a mother I have lost instead

     As I take the long walk to my mother's headstone
     I lay a single yellow rose and a sweet candy kiss upon her head.

Dedicated to: My Mother 1939-1989  Never forgotten on Halloween Night
T Reams 9/27/2015   copyright     Contest sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
My Favorite Flower    Placed 1st

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

I Remember

I remember all the nights we use to play, 
but now I can't play anymore because your not here today.
Your here in my heart and that will never fade away.
Sometimes I would be a hard-headed child,
but in your eyes you saw an angle smile. 

I love you like God love the family, unconditionally.
I remember your brown eyes, gray hair, for you were wise.
I also remember when you had to leave, so your soul could be free.
See, I'm older; more mature, and understand what's going
on, but back then I was only four.

I still remember that day like it was yesterday. 
Well, you were buried that day and everyone had a sad face. 
I remember that day very well indeed, as I looked at you 
and pleaded that you wouldn't leave me. 
Now you’re gone and I have to be strong for both 
of us, so our love can live through people who love us.

Copyright © Diona Finley | Year Posted 2005

Details | Elegy | |

Mombasa

Strange shadows on these coral walls
stay hidden from the setting sun, 
yet creeping through the shafts of amber light
drag behind them to the high parapet
a cloak of utter darkness.

Fierce defended, now are none:
no frightened men to urge the heavy cannon round
no shrill alarm or battle cries;
the end of this, as every other day has sealed
a silence now complete.

Once we held here, on this foreign shore, 
the fortress of our childhood dreams
and all the world’s assaults
seemed nothing then;
an ocean  breeze would cool the hurt of falling
and bring sweet scents to pick us up again.

Across the bay the dhows set sail upon a rising tide
their canvass spread against the purple sky.
We watched their leaving long ago
but you are gone away now, gone to  sleep
and no injured soul so left alone
can wait to watch them home again.

Yet I will stand, a little or a while, 
and  will not fear cold shadows rising 
nor while breathing yield the fort to them;
in every breach I meet your laughing eyes
and feel the warming of remembered suns.

Copyright © Florian Beauchamp | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy | |

Memory

“Memory”

sometimes in mass
as sacred songs
wash over me like rain,
 
I break free
and drift 
into memory,

and again you rise, 
your tears flow
as tears fill my eyes,
your dying breath
whispering
good bye;

after so many years,
the knife still cuts
and again, and
again

I cry.

(20 May 2015)

Copyright © Steven Federle | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

A Tribute to Robin Williams

A good man's gone, loved by us all
on the screen both big and small.

The fire is cold, the lights are out.
His soul's moved on, without a doubt.

The laughter's gone that masked the pain.
The house is still and peace does reign.

He fought his battles on life's wild ride,
but lost his war with the demons inside.

How can one thrive on acclaim and wealth
without the love of one's own self?

I hope you found the peace you sought.
The life you lived won't be forgot.

July 5, 2015

Copyright © Janece Terry | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

Death of a Love One

I had a wonderful day, what could have went wrong
Went to sleep feeling like a brand new man
Laying in bed, sleeping so peacefully
Two guys walked in unexpectedly
They said wake up, no hesitation
Ten bullets in my back, no explanation
Was this a dream I’m gonna wake up from
No its not, I’m a completely dead man
Why me?  Answer my question
I had a family and other love ones.
Now I’m gone, but memory lives on
How about you where do you stand?

Copyright © Chrishanna Powell | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy | |

Doom of Ancient Bloom

Oh, this impish ill!
This mystic flock of ever-roaming pain
You now possess fully, my body and life
I am at your full attention and mercy
Are you not ecstatic?
Are you not overwhelmingly triumphant?
The very body that shamed kings into beggars
And made fighters into martyrs,
Songs to stimulation,
And indisputable chaos to nation…
No, indeed, indifferent you are to my successes
My brilliance and my valiance
You see no more but a breakable man
Another mortal undeniably, indefinably, irrevocably….dying

This misshapen swarm distorts my frame,
These bones weaken as I lay,
Isolated in the mist below the disparaging council,
Away from the ordinary who spat on me in revulsion,
The healthy and the blessed—the cursed clean!!!!
Even relieving the dogs and the fiends from this stinking burden
I am
But a rogue omen, and threat to self-deceived power

My skin is paling, flaking, ah! I feel it
Though dread long has fled to sorrier lands
Seeping in the heavenly regions of trembling angels
Waiting for me to submit, and repent
To a god who has enslaved us—
To—in the end—die,
And for the bravest, and the best,
Perish harshly and horribly!

Agony places itself in all that cries out in me
Tired agony mixed with the sting of venomous words
My family—additions to the cursed clean—they visited me once in prison
My father, rigid, alien to me,
Colder than the prison walls surrounding
And—of course—unwilling to be written upon
Stood silent, as my mother wept,
As his son whom he loves,
Stared at me hollowly, dumbly
Possessing traits that are so doleful
But always more than anything I have died to achieve

Dead flowers crumble in my palms
Now they are long gone
I had been ailing, though enduring,
Spreading and killing off fellow prisoners one by one
The jailer became furious with the disease—
His dying wish to have me alone with the ground and worm

The jailer’s death and the bugger’s will touched the queen, 
The king whom I had served once with reverence
So soon sentenced me prematurely to this tomb
To enclose a black hell of chilling cold around me
And—as was ordinary—granted me
No walls to write on

Tears fall…
I have learned in the silence e’en fury sighs and dims

Pacing and pacing,
I was soon reduced to feverish quaking, and in every sense aching,
Till the floor met my lips,
And the weakness took a fragile but substantial grip on my hope
That moment, I begged this tomb to take me

Because this was my dirge of a conclusion:

We all—cursed manAll—ordinary and brilliant alike
Meet the same filthy fate 
Involving unassuming worms and dirt
Senseless deafness, blindness and darkness
If I ever bloomed,
In your eyes, my father,
Like your sons before me,
I bloomed for naught
Only to, like infants, cry
To die
And rot 

For Justin Bordner's "A Tomb of Ancient Bloom" contest



Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2016