Best Deads Poems
I write a poem that will entertain the world.
A poem that will fade someone's fear.
The one that will inspire you to smile.
Something that can make you out of mind.
I write a poem for lovers and friends,
To describe the feelings, how is love moves the earth.
A poem that encourages deads to live.
To keep the sun shines over the fields.
I write a poem that makes the whole world read.
A sentimental of a heart from lover who left.
The adventure of a man who travelled the lands and seas.
The agony of a woman who lost her baby.
I write a poem....
Until my ink gets dried.
Until the sun meets the horizon.
'til there's no tears fall in my eyes.
I write a poem...
To fall in love once more.
To hold the hand of a new lover,
To see the stars, the moon in full bloom.
I write a poem....
Until the last leaf falls in tree.
Then my life fades in the shadow of eve.
And every memories be left in dreams.
I write a poem....
Please care to comment and sealed with a kiss.
Choose one or two to be your favourites.
And dont forget, fave the author of masterpiece. =D
** 2nd Place Winner in Poet Destroyer aka Linda's Contest: Any Poem #28 **
(autobiographical)
I was barely eight before mother died
When Gerald was happy and not as reduced
When he was the loved son
The child with a loving home.
From aunt to aunt I learned to live
Out of the anger of dad
Out of the voice that brought fear.
Into the hand of pestilence-
My second life began-
A life of maltreatment,
A life of struggle
Elder brother disowned when he revolted
The treatment harsh and inhuman - so he bolted.
I joined the struggle
The life of scuffle
Wherein I was the marked
The recalcitrant and ragged
The delinquent in school
The tortured child of the family's few
Who outlived the deads of two aunts
Beseeched to care for him.
I am half mad, they tell me
I know I am a psychic
Half crazed child
A ricochet of mum’s death-
I have been alienated
Disillusioned by life, ill-fated
Tortured by a disturbed mind.
Dad on my heels
Listening to propaganda
murder-bent at my heels
flogged flogged flogged till I go for pills.
Fled my home to the street
Ate from the bin
Lived with street kids
One of the flocks
One of the hard rocks.
I have been in the cold
No bosom have rocked with me
Save mum’s who lies in the clay.
I am spiritually dead
Physically out of mind, they say.
From pastor to pastor
From prayers to prayers
From recessions to intercessions,
Through starvation for correction
I remain unchanged.
I am finished, they say.
Nothing can help me
save God on whom I weep and call.
My relatives
Alienate me
making me atychiphobic
Aggravating my anthropophobia
building in me gelotophobia
and all those anthropological phobias
A loved child has no right to know.
It bringing me pain for they are nailing me shut.
I pity myself - Pity me father
Pity me, brother
Because I have tried
Tried to be loved
Tried to be the best from limps
But I am not up to those dreams.
I know that many dislike me
Feel uneasy when Gerald is around:
Instead of helping me
They become indifferent, violent.
I told Louisa last week as she fumed at methat
anything I lay my hands on
fails to work again.
It either gets bad or broken.
My own things end up craggy
No matter the patience and prudence I put in.
Why then am I born?
Why the fear
Why the alienation?
I pray that I be left alone
Donot curse me again, donot.
Accept my fate and let me be
Else you help in killing me.
Along with a haunting horde trick-a-treating
Dressed as ghosts, ghouls and goblins,
Dancing dwarfs and teetering giants,
Despicable despots and snarling demons,
Pirates, warlords and mercenaries,
Blood-sucking vampires and wolverines,
Dracula, zombies and Frankenstein,
Skeletons, Spiderman and scarecrows,
Walking deads or the Grim Reaper,
Pretty princesses or the wicked witches,
We too tagged along with this
wild and weird looking carnival,
Hiding our sinister thoughts
and evil designs behind
our smiling Joker's masks
to garner the most candies and toys
with our macabre charm!
Very much so as in our mundane lives
Each morn after a fitful night,
We put on the masks of
good cheers and civility,
Hiding the day's concerns and care,
Envy, hate and jealousy
behind a hypocritical smile and keen dress.
But on this eerie night of Halloween,
We get to let our masks down for a while!
~"Halloween Poem" contest by Carol Eastman
Venom resumes X 3
Suryas out of his basket indeed,
Even good boys are naughty, Sajni,
elevation creatonism,
mantra stance style,
the sun moons life,
he locks his eyes for an eternal rain dance,
chaos enveloped in tears from the sun,
cosmic comic stances that are silent,
the venom stillness of life,
under thunder blast compliance,
encounter my intellegence,
my imperfections,
venom resumes X 3,
vision,
prime modal,
infentile,
Surya is out of his skin,
he pees freely, and poohs slowly,
cautious very friendly,
screams X 3,
shout X 3,
venom X 3,
resumes X 3,
venom resumes X 3,
don't mention tantra to mantra,
Chandra,
everyone is listening,
even good boys are naughty,
even good boys go bad,
Chandra,
tell Rajni not to say any more mantras,
the town is out,
people are watching,
the sun will shout,
Surya X 3
Surya in gujarti means sun.
Chandra in gujarati means moon.
Rajni is name of an Indian man.
Tapasya means to run away for enlighnment in a jungle as pennance for bad deads in order
to aquire enlightment.
Blessed is the man to whom the Lord shall not impute sin."Romains 4:8
a blessed person in the eyes of God,
most evil people count the blessing of the Lord
in the physical things they have and
forgetting the heavy luggage of sins
which they carry daily.
when they die sinners ,
they are buried with sins and
leave all luxury stuffs behind.
Is it true that sinners won't reach heaven?
When some people hear about heavenly places ,
they look at the sky,
thinking that God lives behind
the physical clouds which is not true.
when some people hear about hell,
they fix their eyes on the ground,
thinking that devil and demons
are under the ground,
Which is not true.
When some people die and
are buried
under the ground,
some people think the deads
remain where they were buried them.
Don't astonish to see a rich person who is buried
in a Ferrari and
some of his relatives struggle to put bread
on their tables.
Don't astonish to see the dead bodies
buried with luxury golden stuffs
and some relatives are so poor.
when some people fail to understand
the scriptures spiritually,
it is possible to do things ignorantly.
Blessed is a pure man
As he is not a sinner
He shares his dinner
with the Lord mostly.
He keeps his treasures
in heaven where his heart is.
When he is leaving this earth
His body turns to earth
His spirit continues living with God.
October 09/2023
I've heard it said that if all the people
who ever lived and died, were buried together,
it would fill the size of Spain.
No gazpacho, no El Greco
No Flamenco and no Bolero
Just row upon row, with nowhere to go
on a Saturday night
Dead all over, nothing to do
Of course Guernica might fit in
as would certainly, the Inquisition
overseen by some church patrician
staking out his historical place
in God's eyes, of liturgical grace
But who would be then accepting
a place of Conquistadors amors
if all the American continents
couldn't be relied on to be invaded?
There's still the rest of Europe.
But stones and dates of birth and death
as far to horizon as can be seen
would be enough to put anybody off
Pablo Casals and his pals would
flee for less shaded climes
and maybe start again, in Portuguese
Pamplona's bulls unknown to run
would only be cast in marbled stone
above the heads of political deads,
world-famous and anonymous unknowns
So perhaps it's best to strew the gone
over on and around the world beyond
continental lands to north and south
to spread the wealth by word and mouth
We all in time will, without exception
join the breathless dance of sleep
Leave the Iberian Peninsula to
Basques, the Castilians and Catalans
The lifeless can lie in hinterlands
peering up from past the Pyrenees
© Goode Guy 2013-07-27
Packed for a trail set
Amidst the deads,horrors and greens
A safe success trip.
menses contordes birds,
flayer in the narrow tunnels,
keyboards deads, glass, silicat, wires..,
bent the time, memory to rack one`s brain ,
himself and her ,
to penetrate end beaten the face inclined,
easy, easy in the time speed,
the time, winning, crushed, staring..,
him to await for my.
Psychopomp led me into afterlife
into the souls' of our forefathers,
into the dire grave, spiritualism,
i saw spirits, deities, the deads;
the beneficient dead of the night.
i laid on the ancestor's cult below
resting returns of darkness of the
ancient historical cult of culture.
i was introduced to the angelic
beings of ritual magic, the spirit
guides of theosophy and mysticism
the aliens of ancestral Ufology, Africanism and the neopagan gods which are the thought of soulsm.
my soul shattered and I found hope.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent
Through the years the boy became a man that had already seen the world in his travels. He never married because of his conviction of accused infection of the people. The rules in those day changed ruler to ruler. He was allowed to marry in his life time but not untill after his leader had died, he was 67 at the time. The boy that had traveled did write a scrolled article that contained his opionion and explaination of the metors and the water but it also detailed the logistics of the war that happened on the island and even pictures of the way the warriors had left the bodies, upside down with flames or hot embers at the deads necks with iron post staked through their hearts. The gentleman had a therory of an island with a volcano that fed eagerly and hungerly at the rotten humans that had been staked to the ground for three to seven years. He therorized that the volcano infect with the bacteria had leched to the jungle floors and perched its self to the under sides of the world. The decription that Notradomus gave was alot like the article that the boy had written only to be published in the most private of scholarly clubs.
She sings,
The dumb mouth,
But she sings.
There is, beyond the deads,
The time's continuity,
It continues in silence,
As crazes the stone
... And have no more eyes to cry,
Does not means, so far,
Close his eyes on the future.
-----------
Elle chante,
La bouche muette,
Mais elle chante .
Il y a , bien au-delà des morts,
La continuité du temps,
Il se poursuit en silence,
Comme se fendille la pierre,
... et n'avoir plus d'yeux pour pleurer,
Ne dit pas, pour autant,
Fermer son regard sur l'avenir.
-
RC
- jan 2015
( in memory of the Charlie Hebdo's victims )
Fresh with gone spirit,
Dead in encroaches,
you aren’t holy;
forget about righteousness-
All have sinned!
Father’s Acts trembled in our ears,
printed on every core,
tied on each depth
hitherto, Falling short of justification
by transgress decree!
Desire of the fresh
like a fluctuating fever.
as a driving roll,
all along the conduct of the world.
Lust of the ecosphere,
Prince of the power
Leading the biosphere,
deceiving religious folks
with beliefs and gods;
as Jewish leaders,
Sons of disobedience!
By phusis, the broods of wrath,
longing the desire of the fiend,
Pretence to Father!
Lengthy mercy past love
toward a man; seeking Him by Faith.
Deads made alive in Christ
as zombies- “the dead don’t die.”
Saved yet, you aren’t worth it!
His Laws for man to break
as virginity in dog’s hand.
By grace you are hoarded-
‘here’s No other way!
you are washed,
justified and set apart;
Prior life is gone!
Speak evil of no one,
You’re once disobedient.
Getting forbidden love
That deads come
Leaving the heaven.
Do you know
How much love got
Ridden by being hidden,
They live as dew drops
In the morning on the grass?
All people live, but someday they'll die…
This is our simple life, obviously not a lie…
We all know that, no matter how hard you try…
To stay alive, no one could fly to reach the sky…
Even though, I don't know why some people become shy…
When they lost somebody, precious than any mankind…
They also have a crazy mind, always outline…
We must remember our deads, and pin their pictures in our hearts…
Instead of crying every day, we are hurting them a lot…
The eyes you see at the end of
your bed,
Are mearly the demons inside
your head.
You think you can hide,
But they're simply your
dreams,
That have died.
Don't fear me for I am no
worse than you,
I'm the deads that you have to
do.
Don't try and escape,
Your demons will find you.
You cannot hide in the dark
landscape.
We are the demons everyone
fears.
We all see it in your tears.
As I fade, fade, into the years.
The eyes you see at the end of
your bed,
Don't exist,
not even in your head.