Poems About Death | Poems on the Loss of loved Ones

Close together, we chat. Relatives, cousins - our mothers: the twins. In the wind, ghosts; we speculate. We wonder while we chitchat and munch. Distant memories of practical jokes, tokes; days before she ran away; & not questioning her upon her return. Sitting on my lavender bedspread; laughing, listening; forlorn-ing. Her i.d. tags, army surplus look, blonde hair; my long locks, dark brunette. In the Summer week, we speculate on ghosts; something...

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I stand in the rain Unready to start again The chilling breeze Brings me to my knees I light a fire but it burns out Casting me in the shadow of doubt Your smile used to light up my heart Now the memory rips it apart Ten years ago you went away As I simmer in the turmoil of that memorial today I can hear...

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One of many, yet set apart, A seed without its tree. Still, the roots take hold, Still, the branches reach. One in four, rising strong, To lift the old tree from its sorrow. One in four, breaking through clouds, Carrying the light he once followed. In hope that one becomes all, And all become four, So his dream, even in silence, Will never die....

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To Die I numb my brain to ease the pain The world's is mad...a new insane Compassion's seen with such disdain The truth now seems so very plain To die would be considered gain *********************************** Alone Alone, alone...always alone The pain I feel cannot be known This heart of flesh has turned to stone Alone, alone...I am alone Alone, alone...always alone My dreams on wistful wings have...

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We did not notice at first— the small rebellions of memory: a forgotten kettle on the stove, the absurd claim that Tuesday had vanished, names reshuffled as if in a deck too often played. The mind does not fall—it recedes, a shoreline eroded not by storms but by silent, persistent tides. Each day an abrasive grain, each night a hush over once-luminous thought. She remained...

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spitty splashing of pitty patter sun-washed lemons, the sun rises instead to the shade of the apple trees Hello nuke in the sky, its an experience to say Hi, cracking my last case of beer until ashes I'll die....... wisdom dictates I'll be lost to the flesh as a fact, among all the memorial moments as I pass away. Inner...

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… DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! … ****: “Pronto?”. *****: “*-***?”. TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU… … ...

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"A Soldier's Prayer" ...

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Albert Nelson's father bought a huge clock, the very day he was born, A happy fellow, with a winsome smile. Like the merry pink sun, at dawn. Being too tall for the shelf, it stood inside their foyer, for ninety years, Without the penchant to be slumbering. Tick, tock, tick-joys and tears! Albert loved to watch its pendulum swing,...

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In another life, we were. I hope you found what you are looking for. Is it too late? Don’t turn around. Here and everywhere, I remember you. In the summer wind, what once was....

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“A people few in number” with an outsize burden to bear With Russia and Ukraine simply compare More killed there ...

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Our final test will be graded When our breath has dissipated Life itself is our final test Final grade when we’re laid to rest Taking the test may make you snore If you don’t care about the score For the next one you’ll study more Then it hits I’m dead on the floor There’re no more chances to improve That was the final my...

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Ominous bays of hellhounds thunder in the bleak night As a shattered glass slipper is found amongst powdered ivory snow, The glint caught within incorporeal warping moonlight— Leading to a blue grey corpse, mangled with frozen tears cemented in place. Hands clenched around a copper timepiece, The minute hand paused at one past twelve. The putrid scent of desperation still hangs...

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She was not invited She was arranged They never wanted Jasmine not the woman who brought basil-clean hands and pomegranate soap who harmonized soliloquies into pastries while they offered only hinges rusted shut She was not guest She was garnish Not Jasmine the flower but Jasmine the bulb strangled in its own clay frost biting at the marrow buried beneath their polite...

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Our hands are tied, Death Since you dawned on us this New Year . . . Shapely bottles of champagnes have shone And have broken to fragments with the ululation Of firecrackers that warmed cold and dark wintry skies. Now, aphonia sets in from unending lamentations. Headlines, buried by the chilly bones of winter, Are barren of good tidings. A chionophile besieges the...

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