Death Atheist Poems | Examples

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


Premium MemberMeditation on Meaninglessness

In shadow's tomb—
A dim, aimless flicker...
Void's grip, timeless 
claims all.

Fantomsound: life's song is just a cognition in the null.

Rain, pain—
Stardust, dust, flesh 
patternless on oblivions loom.

Decay's dance a molderwaltz,
Fingers grasp at phantoms 
no hope
Peace in the abyss's open arms. Not…

Unveiled—darkness, despair's shroud 
enigma's veil.

Hearts, no soul, toll; unpaid.
Dreams surrendered.
Woe's tale on wastesphere's icy breath.

Void's sigh,
Sun bleeds on the endless fight.
Souls adrift, yearning 
churning, burning
Accept, the void's silent 
starlit song mute.

From nothing, is nothing, in nothing / 
to nothing, for nothing
Fade to black...


Premium MemberI Am

"You are a bug!
I step on a bug!"
Said God,
A thug.

Premium MemberBuddhism For Idiots

A hostile climate 
Of alternating seasons:
Desire and Loss.

A stone ripples the pond.
To quell the ripples, 
Un-throw the stone.

To quiet the mind, 
Focus on the breath.
To focus on the breath, 
Quiet the mind.

When motion embraces stillness like a lover,
You’ll find your point of balance.
We are ever at the moment of death,
Watching life flash before our eyes.
The essence of reality is un-individuated.
Like drops of water, we all return to the source.

Premium MemberI the Undersigned

The concrete we walk upon
The rock face we just climbed 
It’s all just solidified dust
That somehow found design 

The grass in meadows below 
The trees in forests behind 
It’s all just carbon atoms 
That somehow recombined

The water in our oceans 
The oxygen our lungs refine
It’s all just gaseous elements
That’s somehow in decline 

The space in our cosmos 
The conscience in our minds
It’s all just part of being alive 
That somehow dies over time 

The belief in redemption 
The heaven we wish to find 
It’s all just hopes and prayers 
That somehow this poem is blind. 

By
David kavanagh

Premium MemberThe Truth

The Truth

Jesus, Jesus…
Please, 
bless this house, 
as I am only,
a small
mouse. 

I need you daily, 
from sun’s bright show, 
to moon’s bright glow, 
in the dead of all that’s night…

Thank you for all…
that… You… do. 
Thank you far more…
for what I don’t know,
You do…

I lift You up…
in my heart, 
it is the right way to start;
every day that I draw breath, 
until the day of my death. 

I know you will say my name, 
and I will know of heaven’s home, 
as all your promises are in the tome. 

You are my Savior King. 


Look up, time is near... do not fear... cheer...!
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.


Premium MemberMy City Cowboy

My City Cowboy

You don't wear boots, 
not the fancy ones...
unless there is a;
marriage, birth or death.
Otherwise, it is work shoes, 
steel-toed, 
and seldom shiny. 

Plain or plaid shirt, 
maybe a Harley souvenir,
from a ride...
But on Sundays,
mom's perfect handmade vest. 

Strong in the bible, 
mighty to lend a hand. 
someone, 
everyone wants to know. 

A good man, 
a kind man, 
the last man to stand down, 
the first man to rise. 
Tall on his knees, 
careful of his pride. 

Humble to his brother, 
ever to be a friend. 

The world has nearly lost, 
the plain heroes of our lives. 
Clear and still visible, 
to us wives!
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberWords That Hurt

Words that Hurt

…
Fill in the blank.
…
Keep writing.
…
Stop crying.
…
Pray.

See.
It worked.

Amen.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberHead Games

Head Games

You love to play them. 

When you treat me badly, 
I let you, as I thought that meant…
I was loving you. 
I was wrong. 

When you stomped on me, 
or often if not always put me last, 
I thought it was my accident, 
not design.
I was wrong. 

Blindness is an affliction of the heart, 
the same as the eyes.
Empathy is a band aid to help enablers, 
carry their own crosses…
hand-made and ill designed. 

Be aware of what is happening. 
Take an accounting and do the math. 
Are you living with death, to get through life?
Is that living at all? (Get help, seek help!)

Could things be worse?
Yes.
No.
Maybe?
We each must decide.
God knows the right answer. 

Ask Him.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberHatewatch Jingle

[Composed after yet another news headline 
of a pastor advocating death to all LGBTQ people]


Christians, Christians,
full of Christian love
If there was a god he'd smash
them flat from up above.

Premium MemberThe Stage

Slaying all bible verse
He danced his words to heights
He was
The one

He never grew
The child always fresh
He had no lovers
Only fans

Death came inside a tear
Loneliness incubated fears
Dancing on the moon
Alone

Premium MemberLet Not Your Heart Be Troubled

Let not your heart be troubled, please let it be at rest
God knows what he is  doing, God knows what is best.
God is to wise, to wise to make a mistake, 
God has no time for shade, and no room to hate.

Let not your heart be troubled, please let it be at peace
all depression, pain, sorrow, and tears please please cease
You are only human, with a big heart I see, 
be gentle and be easy, do this just for me.

Trouble may be here, but Trouble don't last always
The Sun is coming, and you will see better days
God will bring you through, don't you ever doubt.
 There is power in your praise, please push your praise out.
Let not your heart be troubled!!!

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