Best Dead And Buried Poems
Sand dunes, nothing but sand dunes,
Some large, some small.
And the sun burning over the terrain.
No oasis, not even a mirage of one.
The last drop would not quench the thirst
He felt it in his soul. For now
She was dead and buried
And his soul was barren like the desert.
He would die, lost among the dunes
With no water for survival.
Fool. He could make it.
He was like an eagle.
Searching to drink water.
Yet he was no eagle and soon fell
Sand clinging to his face covered with sweat.
Opening his eyes he saw the viper.
All would be lost now.
A swish as a hawk picked the viper away.
He fainted and opened his eyes in a tent.
He was safe except for his silent sad soul.
THE DEVIL DANCED AT MIDNIGHT
The devil danced at midnight
beneath a waning moon
with his minions before him,
twas a sight to make one swoon.
He pranced in jubilation,
then capered with a shout,
his arms flailed like a windmill
as his legions danced about.
He cursed the God of heaven,
the demon horde gave tongue.
He vowed to steal each mortal soul,
every single one.
But first a plan was needed
to carry out the deed,
some way to blind humanity
so no danger was perceived.
"Our appearance must be winsome,
our ways seem as a lark,
we mustn't ever let them know
our agenda is so dark."
"Let's make for them a holiday,
the best they've ever seen,
we'll give it to their children
and we'll call it Halloween."
"They'll dress as little goblins,
as pirates and as ghouls,
they'll have parties in their churches
and one at every school."
"They'll beg adults for candy
while they roam from street to street,
dressed as little monsters
as they shout out trick or treat."
"How can there be real devils
if it's just a game they play,
no one will believe in us,
that's how we'll win the day."
"We'll confuse these hapless mortals,
in God they'll have their doubts,
they'll all be dead and buried
ere they know what we're about."
"And if they die in mortal sin
well then my friends we've won,
they'll spend eternity with us,
every single one."
BURIED IN WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING (With apologies to Robert Frost)
Whose woods these are, mox nix to me,
both dead and buried, she must be,
to bother me, not one more time,
but sleep forever; endlessly.
Though thought of still, as perfect crime,
(it made my life a downhill climb,)
tis none the less, I must admit,
the joy of me, all of the time.
And smile I must, with thought of it,
the slicing of her throat a bit,
and struggling, oh! how she tried!
whilst I enjoyed her dying fit.
Her eyes now crossed, as if she spied,
her life and death on either side,
and so I gouged them both in fun,
for every time she ever lied!
She begged for mercy--there was none!
Her legs were dead, she couldn't run,
and with her throat cut, couldn't cry,
nor could I, whilst I had such fun!
Her pleas are still my lullaby,
I've lots of time to wonder why,
and years to go before I die.
and years to go before I die.
by © ron arbuthnot
Hullo, folks!
Do you hear me?
You didn’t hear me when I was dying.
At least hear me now, when I’m dead and buried.
I am, as you know, Jinesh,
Buried here—in this churchyard at Poonthura,
Buried on Sunday—
Like Solomon Grundy!
I did hear you when you were crying—
During the recent floods,
Rushed to your help,
Saved more than a hundred of you.
You all praised me, called me a hero,
Lined the street I lived in
With posters, flex boards, banners and whatnot.
Now you all know that I, as a pillion rider,
Was hit by a passing truck,
Which further ran over my helping hands,
Crushing them—
Thus, adding grievous injury to injury!
I lay there on the roadside,
Crying aloud for help,
Which fell on your deaf years:
You were all busy, all in a nervous hurry—
Off to Timbuktu!
I wept and cried for help, by turns.
But I was left there to die unwept and unsung,
Though I had been honoured.
Now you all may say: RIP
But, you see, I remain restless!
***
you came to me when i had no one helped me up when i was down
you loved me regardless of my flaws make me smile when you play the clown
you make me see the inner light see deep beneath the skin
to love you more than yesterday is my only sin
and ill love you more tomorrow and the day that follows that
ill love you for eternity living in this cold cramped flat
the riches of the world id trade just for one more kiss
and when your gone the simple things about you that i miss
if you ever leave me my earth angel ill be just skin and bone
feeling so cold and empty feeling unloved and alone
so here comes the honest part i need you like air to breath
maybe i love to easy wear my heart on my right sleeve
if it went you you i would be dead and buried in a shallow hole
you came to me when i needed you and saved my taunted soul
and when i die and go to heaven and stand before the pearly gates
looking round and see my life my family and my mates
but without you heaven is hell and this i am honestly stating
enjoy you life on earth my darling cos in heaven ill be waiting
you're somewhere dreaming, breathing, walking still
and in the world of living you reside
in hurting and in maiming is your thrill
you will not let the pain and grief subside
somewhere in this old world you have a place
your do your daily tasks and visit friends
there is no trail to find you, not a trace
yet poison cloud of hate on you descends
you live oblivious to heinous crime
the rape and plunder of a trusting heart
on satin sheets you left your putrid grime
mixed with my blood that flowed from poison dart
So to my heart you're dead and buried deep
My tears have crusted dry; I cannot weep
Eileen Manassian Ghali
THIS MAN CALLED JESUS - 2
Hey, Caiaphas! What do you think of this Man called Jesus
Well, now that you mention it, I think it's time that He died
Perhaps we can devise a plot to have Him crucified
Let's talk to Pontius Pilate and see what he has to say
I'll bet he will help us get rid of this aggravating Man
But we must devise a real solid foolproof plan
How about some false witnesses to tell a few lies
Yes, that just might do it, so round up a few
We can bribe them easily – they'll know what to do
That sounds good enough to rid us of Him
And one of His friends, Judas is his name
Will betray Him for silver and take all the blame
Why didn't we think to do this sooner
I had thought of it, but I feared it wouldn't go well
But I can't see any reason why this plan should fail
So the plot was formed and soon carried out
He was crucified, dead and buried, but arose after three days
Ascended into Heaven, to come again and judge mankind’s ways
Have you given any thought concerning eternal life
You've been given a choice – what will your choice be
It's either Heaven or hell for eternity
What do you think of this Man called Jesus
Will you accept Him as Lord and serve Him alone
Or die in your sins before all hope is gone
Curtis Moorman
19 January 2013
Fred Seegmiller
1871 - 1907
You never met a man who loved my town.
As I much as I did.
Coming here in ’90 by the train.
It nearly killed me, but I stayed on my knees.
I prayed and prayed I would not go mad.
For 15 years I played the organ.
In the magnificent church on Bailey Street.
I played the passions of Bach and the soothings of Handal.
And I served refreshments in the churchyard.
One night in Mid March
After services had concluded,
Rebecca walked into my life.
She coyly received my flirtatious wink
And a family of five was the magical result.
For twelve years I moved lumber by horse and reigns,
And drove the wagonload to the flowering homesteads.
I worked hard, prayed to God
And never forgot to kiss my wife goodbye.
I lived on the end of Olive Street.
Hidden by tall Elms,
Inside my house with the white shutters,
I brought two of my brood into this world
And I watched one leave it in the winter of ’99.
It was in that same room,
The one in the back by the myrtle tree,
That I too tasted death.
I had the cancer
And it was eating me like a cannibal unconverted.
And now I am dead and buried in Clark Cemetery.
And my living soul longs to spend just one more minute.
Just one more minute
As a dying man.
My soul is not dead.
My soul is not sad.
Let me sleep now.
"Grenades"
When Humpty fell off the wall
she stood over the mess
that bad egg left
like a marauding architect
she was holding two pistols
the smoking guns
of a life peripheral
stitched up surreal
where the heart
sits in the middle
like a key swinging
constant metronome
beat, click-click,
like time spent
running a risky
poetic kingdom
where music
like grenades
blew up and lifted
pretend leaves
departures
like a death wish
kamikaze pilot
escaping
from a dead plot
holding onto the strings
of words, lit up
like neon balloons
containing messages
the base note revealed
underneath the stained seats
of bad actors fates sealed
pretending
a life at Freedom
Saab living slipping
charm like butter
rubbing between the bars
like soap on the tongue
with Sister Christmas
enabling spoilt collaboration
with unsuspecting customers
the orchestrated lies stumble
dead and buried, white flags torn
lying under the rubble
cool assassins
never come undone
delivering their missives
what's mightier than the sword
belting out their
golden semicolon chords
the disengaged pause
now released
the trigger pulled,
click-click,
now shot like
bullets from a gun
the heart,
a grenade
cool assassins
seen standing
their ground
steam punk
for all they’re worth
in their stormy
cloud ridden
kingdom come
the heart,
a grenade
more lethal than
sword
more explosive than
bullets from a gun
disengaged
with the engaged
click-click
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“But since he pinned you, baby
You're a porcupine”
“Crack, baby, crack
Show me you're real”
In the Madness of my Mind, I : Chatted with God
The Music of HIS voice reverberates through the canyon of a dead Soul
Questions, so many questions : “Speak my son“, He Said
Is reality Heaven, Is Life upon this Earth only a Dream
Insanity; touches me, as I roam through the hours of the Past
You may ask : WHY does the sickness of the mind affect the SOUL?
“ If YOU do not know MY “SON” : YOU do not Know “ ME “
“Empty , a Soul that only Once new LOVE , until “ BARBARA “
WHY?, WHY?, do I get the privilege of “ LOVING BARBARA “
‘ YOUR Blessing is Received “ as my mind, disputes “ REALITY”
“ May I see my LOVE : Lenore; before I run to the arms of “BARBARA”
I want to be LOVED, not necessarily; Physical or Sexual , “Just LOVED”
In a Heavenly Voice GOD sings to ME, whispers in my ear “ BELOVED “
“ If You do not LOVE MY, “SON” : YOU do not LOVE “ ME “
Love ; decayed, rotted away in a rancid pool of lost Emotions
Feelings : Dead and buried long ago; Scratch the surface of the Earth
Screaming in painful agony, crying the tears of the past “Set me Free”
The Earth is cold, damp, dirty ; I find Peace in the emptiness of Life
Death is a pleasure ; I can only Dream of in a nightmare of Forever
Madness deprives the Soul of consciousness , of reality, of ETERNITY
“If you do not seek MY “SON” : You do not SEEK “ ME “
OUR HOPE FOR ETERNITY
Born a babe in Bethlehem
He grew to be a Man
He preached man's iniquity to them
In fury, they devised a plan
They watched Him heal the lame
And were amazed as He raised the dead
Upset as by the multitudes they came
As by the thousands, they were fed
Their anger grew until the day
A traitor, one of His own
Decided that he would gladly betray
Because his greed had grown
So for thirty pieces of silver
He gave Jesus into their hands
With a kiss, he chose to deliver
The Son of God – the Son of man
He was crucified, dead and buried
The third day, He triumphantly rose
One day we'll all be carried
To join Him because we chose
To believe in Him as Savior
As proclaimed in God's own Word
To live with Him forever
I pray that you have heard
How He'll come for us in glory
To live with Him in splendor above
So tell others the wondrous story
Of Jesus and His love
That others on this Easter morning
May know Him as we do
So they too will have the joy of joining
In eternity with me and with you
Curtis Moorman
14 March 2013
Dear Son
even I am long gone
dead and buried
please son take heed
the good lord will plead
good deeds do matter
sin will land you in the hereafter
down under where the co!cks and roosters crow
now in hell fire's, son, please I wish you not to go
travel light my son, carry a heart of love
beware those, friends that make you less
I am looking up from above
no more disgraces
or shadow traces
chat not with
ham or pork
in teeth
delusions
I see all
be kind
in the sky
BURIED IN WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING
Whose woods these are, mox nix to me,
both dead and buried, she must be,
to bother me, not one more time,
but sleep forever; endlessly.
Though thought of still, as perfect crime,
(it made my life a downhill climb,)
tis none the less, I must admit,
the joy of me, all of the time.
And smile I must, with thought of it,
the slicing of her throat a bit,
and struggling, oh! how she tried!
whilst I enjoyed her dying fit.
Her eyes now crossed, as if she spied,
her life and death on either side,
and so I gouged them both in fun,
for every time she ever lied!
She begged for mercy--there was none!
Her legs were dead, she couldn't run,
and with her throat cut, couldn't cry,
nor could I, whilst I had such fun!
Her pleas are still my lullaby,
I've lots of time to wonder why,
and years to go before I die.
and years to go before I die.
© Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Buried
Dead and buried
Buried this morning
Buried six feet under
Under the earth
Under an oak tree
Tree of remembrance
Tree of death
Death for me
Death forever
Forever cold
Forever silent
Silent in my grave
Silent without life
Life has ended
Life has ceased
Ceased to be
Ceased to exist
Exist and live
Exist and love
Love has gone
Love has fled
Fled for good
Fled away
Away from here
Away from loved ones
Ones I cared for
Ones I am missing
Missing the smiles
Missing the sunset
Sunset over the sea
Sunset over the mountains
Mountains and valleys
Mountains and rivers
Rivers that meander
Rivers that run free
Free and abundant
Free without end
End of the line
End of time
Time is over
Time has run out
Out to pasture
Out and down
Down in the ground
Down but aware
Aware but dead
Aware but still
Still
Dead
Written on 8/25/2015
When Dreams Die
Memories linger of us holding hands,
sharing dreams we'd make come true.
Dead and buried with you are our plans.
I've no need of dreams without you.
Where do dreams go when they die?
Do they just fade away or disappear?
Do they feel pain, and do they cry?
Do they face their death in fear?
Answers to questions I've longed to hear.
If they are poised ready upon your lips,
please whisper them into my ear,
While I stand in watch at their crypt.
I can no longer wish upon a falling star,
asking that my dreams might come true.
Has my sorrow taken me much too far
that I no longer care what I might do?
I once gazed upon the starlit skies,
dreaming of a romantic wedding night,
but the twinkle no longer lives in my eyes;
They are black holes, staring without sight.
What hope for dead stars and dreams?
None that seem clear to me.
Death is permanent for both it seems.
Were my dreams never meant to be?
No longer do I revel in the moon's pale light,
reminders of the nights we once shared,
of reveries and fantasies to which we gave flight,
of the nights when our souls were bared.
Shrouded in black, my dreams lay in death.
Now I know where they go when they die.
Deep within my heart, but with nary a breath,
Dreams, did you hear me whisper, "Goodbye?"
October 26, 2015
Lin Lane
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