Best Dead(A) Poems


Premium Member The Man Who Dreamed His Life Away

THE MAN WHO DREAMED HIS LIFE AWAY

When I was young the Moon was lifted    
Hung with tacks and thread 
On a mystical ceiling of dreams

She in her skyward place    I in my bed
We lay so tightly wed    we two sure lovers
That all my years flew round    passed us by
While from out our eyes some angels gathered dust

At length    proud man at work by day    by night
His busy light in flood on tissue walls   
Tried describe to she and me a smoking glory in steel

And a prophet raved – “Hear!    Heed!
Faith is the one checkered King
On this fantasian board a playing.”

But I    like my Moon    bearing such pale light
Long dead    a mere reflection of life
Was old and could not rise
Categories: dead(a), fantasy, moon,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Halloween Dare: Trick Or Treat

He cursed himself for accepting the dare.  He never believed in ghosts or haunted houses. He thought it was an easy way to make a few bucks if he spent a night in a haunted house.  
 
Now he found himself in the most deserted house of the small town, reputed to be haunted.  He had lain on his camp bed and hoped sleep would come soon.  Certainly, he did not relish the pitch darkness of the house or outside it.
 
Without any rational explanation he found himself hovering between nowhere and the balcony.  He saw all the houses of the town light up in a flash of multiple lightning.  It seemed to him as if the whole town trembled as an earthquake rippled below the ground.  The balcony seemed to disintegrate, and he found himself falling, falling, and falling right down into an abyss.
 
He wanted to cry in alarm. Sweat oozed out from all over his body. He woke up on the camp bed.  He tried to get up but found himself paralyzed.  The darkness engulfed him like a bed cover. Suddenly he thought he saw a flash outside the bedroom in the corridor.  Lightning?  He had no way of knowing.  
 
Finally, he found he could move his hand and grasp the bottle of rye.  The liquid seared his throat.  It was not easy to drink as he laid flat on his back.  The heat was now intense, and he sweated profusely.  He tried in vain to pull up the bed sheet to try and wipe his face.  The only thing that moved was his heart that was pumping away like mad.  Relax.  No ghosts about.  It was only in the mind.  Tomorrow he would gain those extra bucks.
 
It was then that he felt something moving over his body.  In the pitch darkness he could not see what this could be.  Suddenly a pair of malevolent eyes glared at him out of nowhere, seemingly without a face.  Then he heard the growl.  He wanted to scream but could not.  Sweat poured down his face and his heart pumped away like a rocket propelled to hell.
 
His friends found him next day, cold dead, a small cat sitting on his chest.
Categories: dead(a), fear, halloween,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Quest For Tolerance

new nation to craft
founding fathers sought to draft
a declaration of independence
document that made sense

Thomas Jefferson sought to free slaves
but was warned not to make waves
five of thirteen colonies
he had to appease

breaking from British rule
ignited a duel
with each colonial delegate
expressing their regret

they could not sign
they would not find
all men of equal value
heated debate ensued

withdrawn from the declaration
with misgivings and trepidation
eighty-six more years would pass
until the slaves were freed at last

Lincoln paid a high price
when he acted against advice
signing an emancipation proclamation
brought civil war to a nation

twenty percent of our population
lay dead, a chilling affirmation
we failed to see what was right
every color worth as much as white

though the war is formally over now
discrimination we still allow
Talmadge Branch was just one case *
where service was denied by race

Ku Klux Klan remains active too
wounds once healed open anew 
and the battle for human rights
fear and hatred still ignites



*  In 2008, Florida Attorney General Bob Butterworth 
had to take action against a bar in Perry, FL, when they 
refused to serve African-American Talmadge Branch 
unless he took a seat in a “back room.”  
http://cnsnews.com/news/article/florida-bar-owners-could-lose-license-over-racism-complaint
Categories: dead(a), discrimination,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member True, Moses Wrote of Righteousness

True, Moses wrote of righteousness, one based upon the law.
But Paul proffered an alternate, eschewed the tragic flaw.
Salvation based on works alone: a concept misapplied.
For all, not most, have fallen short; to live thus was to die.

The argument that he put forth: the wage of sin is death.
The proof that all have fallen short: each takes a final breath.
The second Adam changed it all, met on Damascus Road,
His work, reduced to rubbish, trash, and kicks against the goads.

A righteousness that's based on faith asks not who will ascend;
See, Christ has come down to the world, and faith thus comprehends.
And neither does a right faith seek descent to the abyss,
For Christ has risen from the dead, a point some seem to miss.

A right faith knows the word is near, there in your mouth and heart,
Components of a saving grace, the twain shall never part.
For if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is the LORD,
Your heart believes God raised him up, salvation, faith's accord.

For heart's belief is justified, and mouth's confession saved,
And all those who believe in Him are thus no more enslaved.
For there is no distinction now between the Jew or Greek,
For the same Lord is Lord of all, shows grace to all who seek.

But how then will they call on Him in whom they've not believed?
And how shall they believe in Him, when ears have not received?
And how are they supposed to hear, unless someone will preach?
And how are they to preach the word unless they're sent to each?

How beautiful, the feet of those delivering good news!
Not all obey what they have heard, Isaiah thus once mused.
"Lord, who believed what he has heard from us?" the prophet said.
But faith comes through the word of Christ, its hearing raises dead.

Now faith by works indeed is true, a point I must not shirk,
But only faith that's placed in Him, rests in His finished work.

(from Romans 10)
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: dead(a), christian, faith,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member New Wineskins

The old, relaxed; we pour ourselves a glass.
There is no need to stretch or change our way.
We know the flavors here; the only task:
ensuring it is just like yesterday.
Like sediment, this attitude does weigh;
we lie immobile, deign to be disturbed,
exchange bouquet for residual gray,
our appetite for joy, completely curbed,
our thoughts reserved to naught but that which is deserved.

Thus, when it comes along, we’re unprepared;
our skins are too inflexible to grow.
The thought of making room just leaves us scared,
so we eschew the new for what we know.
That which does not comport, we must forego,
and in this way, we struggle to survive;
our aging, brittle walls, like Jericho,
must be torn down to breathe, to come alive,
for we were meant to stretch, that we might truly thrive. 

A leopard cannot shed its spots alone;
a dried out husk cannot make itself new.
The old man must be utter overthrown
before with new wine he can be imbued.
The old skin, by a Word, banished from view,
no longer to restrict and much annoy;
a transformation occurs through and through:
the old man dead, a child of God, a boy
who bubbles forth in endless, effervescent joy.

----------

Musings on Matthew 9:17

These are Spenserian Stanzas, 10A:10B:10A:10B:10B:10C:10B:10C:12C
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: dead(a), birth, life,
Form: Other

Premium Member Hero To People

Kenya rebel
Kenya hero
Hero of the people
Hero executed
Executed by hanging
Executed and buried
Buried in a mass gave
Buried in the morning
Morning of mourning
Morning end
End of his fight
End of his short life
Life as a freedom fighter
Life full of confusing propaganda
Propaganda by the British
Propaganda  by colonist
Colonist taking land
Colonist calling him terrorist
Terrorist or heroic figure
Terrorist the peoples fighter
Fighter against colonialism
Fighter of the Mau Mau
Mau Mau leader
Mau Mau uprising
Uprising and conflicts grew
Uprising and race relations violent
Violent gruesome affair and deaths
Violent Kimathi
Kimathi arrested wearing disguise
Kimathi arrested in Kenya
Kenya Nairobi at thirty-six
Kenya freedom fighter dead
Dead but not forgotten
Dead a national hero
Hero who was a threat
Hero who took an oath
Oath to the Land of Freedom Army
Oath in secret to reclaim land
Land stolen
Land British settlers took
Took with no regard
Took because they were British
British colonization in Kenya
British Government threatened
Threatened and needed to eradicate
Threatened by the African people
People erected statue of Kimathi 
People sing songs to the bronze   
Bronze . . .
Kimathi . . .  

___________________________________
April 22, 2016

Poetry/Blitz/Hero To People
Copyright Protected, ID 16-781-604-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

For the contest, Dig Deep, Race Relations - Conflicts-
Colonialism, sponsor,  Marugo Mo

Third Place
Categories: dead(a), africa, death, hero, leadership,
Form: Blitz


Premium Member The Walking Dead-A Sonnet Acrostic Tribute

There is an emptiness. You see no face.
Humanity. . . Wherever can it be?
Enveloped by strange silence is each place.

Whole towns have been abandoned! Finally,
A figure is approaching - a small child.
Look! Her mouth with something red seems wet.
Keep moving. This girl’s face is not so mild.
Inside a vacant house you need to get!
Now suddenly, more human forms appear.
Get far from them! They have no heart or soul.

Dead eyes will haunt your dreams. You’ll live in fear.
Eternal sickness has consumed them whole.
As twilight falls outside your door, they creep.
Do say a prayer to God, your soul to keep.


Written Aug. 19, 2016 
for Tom Quigley's Your Favorite Habit-Forming TV Show Acrostic Poem Contest
Categories: dead(a), scary,
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member Oblivion

OBLIVION
Your head is dead a chamber vast and void
and nothing's what you think on anymore
forgotten are all things you once enjoyed
and are replaced by life the constant bore.

Your brain's been drained you sit alone and stare
all hope's run out, your heart is solid stone
from night to day and day to night it's there
the wish to be forgotten and alone.

You think and sink into Oblivion
not caring if you fade or if you die
but only that you shed the shell you're in
you've gone beyond the questioning of why.

You are the death, the dark of greatest fear
the song of life only the dead can hear.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
© Vee Bdosa  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: dead(a), absence, anger, dark, death,
Form: Sonnet

A Thought From Our Maker

There lay no death down below,
Endless oblivion, the song of the bone,
A path towards nowhere, where stories unfold,
The visions of the dead, a memory untold.

Ancient voices, sobbing at the door,
He who resisted, but could not ignore,
Soon subdued by the directive,
Humanity's entire subconscious collective...

Demons of times past,
Angels that never were,
They all joined together,
All joined me in this realm.

Throughout the ages of nature,
They oscillate out, and back into play,
Living inside a thought from our maker,
Symbols no different from us today...
Categories: dead(a), death, dream, freedom, humanity,
Form: Rhyme

The Value of Honor and Gallantry

My sergeant said you've been trained well you know what to do
Your assignment an ambush, do not return until the sky is blue.
We gathered our weapons and lots of ammo
And waited till dark then said he it’s time to go.

We set-up behind a Pagoda in a cemetery
Surrounded by graves, it was kinda scary.   
There in Vietnam overlooking an open field.
I sat and waited; on my lap an M-15 I yield.

In slow degrees though silent, the hours passed;
In the darkness my fear has yet to be surpassed.
It stated to rain obstructing my field of vision
I said a prayer; it was a time of deep contrition

In those clamorous moment before blood and death
I closed my eyes, lifted my head and took a deep breath.
Behind the Pagoda, the hour drew near.
I looked at my buddy's eyes filled with fear.

Before I knew  it his M-60 let loose
There were so many it wasn’t hard to choose.
In all of those moments as the bullets flew,
The fear of death it griped, it grew!

There was nowhere to go and nowhere to hide.
Still we remained instilled with Marine Corps pride.
The exchange of fire ended and my buddy fell dead.
I looked up to God and silently plead. 

I saw the carnage, quivered and trembled in silent rage.
No time for sorrow, for the enemy we'll still engage
I sought the sunshine through bloodstained eyes.
I knew that in war we cannot compromise.

I sniffed the damp soil, decaying and pungent with leafy mold.
At eighteen my buddy laid dead, a life story never to be told.
I soughtGod's mercy to easy my guilt.
Pierced  to its poisonous hilt.

With dark vague eyes I started to cry.
I held his hand and said my last good bye.
I felt deserted I wanting to go home.
For me--farthest from deaths port to roam.

For in this darkness I silently grieve
And sought I comfort to relieve
The worth of that, is that which it contains
Where a bullet-riddled pagoda still remains.
Categories: dead(a), death, death of a
Form: Rhyme

Goodnight My Beloved Grandma

Goodnight My Beloved Grandma (for Elizabeth Ugoeze Nwadinobi)


By Izunna Okafor


As an ocean bleeds unbounded
Troubling the sons it founded
In pathing the ways with tracks
Tears have bathed my wang with marks

What a world  !

The wave blew aloud like a ruse
Kidnapping attentions as a tale
Only to jail some minds in her rue
Blinking as sorrow in the eyes of men

What a world !!

We never expected an untimely departure 
But that has reposed our own to her home 
For the time of men is tied to the nature 
And our tears for the dead a show of sorrow

Death has seized the noble hen
And the chicks abandoned in the dusky earth
We cry not because we need a sympathetic help
But to cough sorrow off our heavy heart

Death is wicked
And the world a tricketh
But we'll forever remember you as a mother
Farewell and goodbye our dear grandmother


Good night !

Good night !!

Good night !!!

(Your Grandson)

© Izunna Okafor 2018
Categories: dead(a), death,
Form: Elegy

Premium Member Following the Beat of the Drum

Tammy lived a reckless and careless life.
She answered to no one, lived by her own
rules.
Tammy has been on her own ever since
she could remember.
The streets were her home; she lived the
street life.
The average person didn't mess with her; 
because she had a bad reputation.
Being the girlfriend of a notorious gang 
leader had its ups and downs.
Rival girlfriends of other gang leaders 
would constantly pick fights with her.
On a night near a desolate alley Tammy 
got caught slippin.
She was walking by herself; she didn't even 
have any protection.
The rival gang saw her and beat her senseless.
They left her for dead, a homeless dude found
her and ran to get help.
By the time the ambulance found her, she had 
lost a lot of blood and had a faint pulse.
They rushed her to the hospital, she flatlined, 
but they resuscitated her. However, it was touch
and go….. … they didn’t know if she would live 
or die… her life hung in the balance, and it 
was touch and go.


*caught slippin
to be caught off guard, in a very bad way.



Contest: This Or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
04-09-2021
© Alexis Y.  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: dead(a), conflict,
Form: Free verse

The Gift

It's gone, the thundering voice of destruction, leaving behind the shattered lives and loves of yesterday.  The darkness is broken only by the sounds of silence.   We have survived the tornado.

There is a stir beneath me as I feel my boys begin to move.   “Mom, are we dead” a tremulous voice ventures?  “No” I say, “God did not look the other way”.  

I try to move and a flash of pain runs through my body.  I am trapped.  I cannot move my legs.    I must stay calm. No one knows we're here.  What's that?  A voice', faint but growing stronger.  Hello!  Can anybody hear me?  

“We're down here” I cry.  “Please help us, I can't move”.    A sense of relief crowds my senses before a wave of nausea rolls over me.  I remember hugging my boys.

Light streams through the window of an unfamiliar room.  “Where am I.  Where are my boys” I ask.  Lay still I am told.  Your boys are fine, and you will be too, but now you must rest.

I drift between a world of sunshine and shadow, waking fitfully.  I survey my surroundings.    I glance at the shape beneath my sheet that is my body and absently note that I cannot see my feet.  Clutching the sheet I slowly draw it up. An anguished scream escapes my throat.  My legs!  They are gone!  There is nothing below my knees.  I panic. I cannot live like this.  What am I going to do?    The tears fall uncontrollably.

A doctor enters the room and offers me a sedative.  I scream at him about the injustice.   I am a mother.  I am angry.  He speaks to me in quiet tones.  We did everything they could he says.  There was no other choice.

Days pass and I worry about what my boys will think when they see me for the first time.  I know it is now up to me to deal with it, but I am so afraid.  And I am still angry at God for what he took away from me just when I needed him most.

I lay there, contemplating my misfortune, feeling sorry for myself  when two little boys burst through the door, laughing and looking for their mom.  My heart races as they climb up on my bed.

“Mom” the older boy says.  “Can I ride in your wheelchair”?

At that moment, it all becomes clear. They do not care how I look.  They love me just the same.  Through my tears I realize that in fact I have been blessed.  I can no longer hate Him for what I lost, but instead, I must give thanks for what He let me keep.
Categories: dead(a), faith, family, me, voice,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member In A Frozen Land

 
"Love is eternal, it never dies, it is forever. . . "

                                               Quote by _ Constance


And in my dream I am walking in a frozen land
there is white snow in every direction pure and unflawed
the temperature is way below freezing
the wind is howling    my feet crunch   but, I feel nothing
for I am frozen and empty inside   I have been since the day my kitty
went over Rainbow Bridge then, I notice tiny paw prints in the snow
and follow them for some time only to find my beloved kitty in the snow
I start running to her but she is dead a perfect curled up cat carved statue
then, a hand comes down from the sky and picks her lifeless body up
and she lay in God's hand still until suddenly she is moving her fur blowing
her bushy tail swishing    her sweet meows echoing 
oh, my tears are falling and freezing on my cheeks
God lifts her up to his heart and kisses her head
he smiles at me with great love and it is like the sun has come out
and I know that my kitty will be fine in Heaven protected for infinity
and I am weeping when kitty turns to me  and lifts her paw in farewell
her eyes are beautiful, bright and glowing
and I hear God's voice speaking to me your kitty will be loved in Heaven
and will be waiting at Heavens golden gate dear one
when your time on earth is finished do not weep . . . do not grief
you gave your kitty the ultimate gift of love you set her free from suffering
and just like that . . . they fade away
and I am in my bed and it is morning . . . 
I smile to myself for it is time, yes time 
to turn the page . . . to end this chapter
Categories: dead(a), grief,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Beneath the Skin Love

I have looked through the eyes of a false god low key 
facing inwards the sight shut unable to see the truth has superior knowledge 
it takes years from your life searching the four corners of your soul 
One day the light enters when a person opens the heart broken 
who am I to stand over the innocent in condemnation of justice so to speak 
The guilt of sin weighs heavy on those looking for an easy way out 
it was pride that changed angels into devils least we forget 
To witness the power of our Saviours Mercy is something in itself beyond belief 
when He rose from the dead a burning Light left its imprint engraved 
nothing in this world comes near His power and Majesty 
These days I love to follow those with saintly intentions towards others 
it gives hope to us lost in the storms enveloping this world corrupted by evil
standing up for something means protecting the righteous at all costs 
we have only one life to serve use it for the good of others no one else  
The cost of tears lost in a chain falling in one broken dream counts  
in the grail of insight ingrowing smiles hide the true character
Categories: dead(a), god, hope, love, miracle,
Form: Free verse
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