Best Deadest Poems


Premium Member The Deadest Hope In the World

The Deadest Hope In The World


The deadest hope in the world to hold
To be truly youthful when one is old
To race about with eager quickened pace
Innocent smile upon a softened face,
Willing hands to love yet again,
The envy of many fellow jealous men
A finer vessel sleek, pure and true
Lady of charm dancing along with you!

Adorned with steadfast heroic words,
Flying free of earth like the birds,
Wandering into majesty of the clouds
Far away from teeming earthbound crowds
A God sailing alone in the night sky,
Enjoying a blessing, not asking why!

Robert J. Lindley, 05-30-2015

A sonnet, simply because I have not written one in a while..

Premium Member The Deadest Hope In the World

The Deadest Hope In The World


The deadest hope in the world to hold
To be truly youthful when one is old
To race about with eager quickened pace
Innocent smile upon a softened face,
Willing hands to love yet again,
The envy of many jealous, fellow men
A finer vessel sleek, pure and true
Charming lady dancing along with you!

Adorned with steadfast heroic words,
Flying free of earth like the birds,
Wandering into majesty of the clouds
Far away from teeming earthbound crowds
A God sailing alone in the night sky,
Enjoying a blessing, not asking why!

Robert J. Lindley, 05-30-2015

Who Is the Deadest

Who is the deadest 

Now that Israel has published horrific pictures 
of slain children this as an explanation of why they 
so cruelly bomb Gaza
where about 500 children have been victims 
of relentless bombing
one hopes the Palestinians will refrain from publishing pictures of their dead children like it should be a competition
My child is more horrifically dead than yours
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.


The Deadest End

The finer you draw your measurements,
the further away you fall

Each number squared and time compared,
deafens out the call

Your techno-dialectic,
data piled upon itself

A trash heap at the deadest end
—where folly stacks unfelt

(Haverford Pennsylvania: July, 2019)

The Deadest Kind of Closeness

There is more warmth here

Curled beneath 
The sickly, flickering halo
Of the streetlamp outside your house

Than I ever managed 
To pull
From your skin 

The heavy, reckless snow
Tangling in my eyelashes
Melts softer than your voice ever did

Evaporating with every blink
Until I can feel the stinging flush of blood
Creeping back into my face

A reluctant reminder
Of what a pulse
Is actually supposed to feel like

You were colder
Than the unmade mattress
On my side of the bed

You slept huddled up
Safe and cocooned
Like your mother still tucked you in

While my goosebumps
Became permanent fixtures
In the draft 

“You should see him in my dreams,”
I confessed to your ceiling
In the hollow hours that chewed me alive

While my fingers traced
The little black curl
At the nape of your neck

“One touch of him 
In that faded
Band shirt 

Was like a swarm 
Of manic butterflies 
Diving headfirst into electric barbed wire”

But really an intimacy
Flatlining 
Into rigor mortis 

An ache so violently heavy
It calcified against my ribs
Like the residue of gin and bad decisions 

So was it me?
Was I just a rough draft 
Of someone else you wanted?

Did the quiet crush you enough
To play house
Only to want to lock the front door? 

Did you just
Want to sleepwalk 
through my lifetime?

Now I know 
why your ceiling 
never said anything back

But hey, at least it’s warmer here
© Ali Lynn  Create an image from this poem.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace