Best Death Life Poems
We all arrive alone naked and vulnerable,
crying our eyes out, not knowing -
this is the first day of the rest of our life.
I guess the saddest thing in life is we have to grow up.
As children we live in a bubble,
gazing at lost stars - wondering which one is ours.
Not realising the impact of our childhood,
until we are adults and it is too late.
We jump in puddles, laughing at splashing sounds,
some even learn to place their coats over them.
Some swim within shark infested waters,
but only a few learn how to build bridges over them.
I have embraced the power of silence,
but some have succumb to it.
I guess it is all about the quality of it,
especially for those who struggle to listen.
There has been many a rose that has bloomed,
but every single one crumbled into dust.
Even the one whose thorns pierced lacerations
through hearts of stone - yet the heart healed.
Many birds arrived echoing sweet symphonies,
yet there have been those that flew away in silence.
Especially the silent nightingale who sat in solitude,
whose lyrics my heart still yearns to feel.
I've seen many a ship arrive at my shore,
but each one unloaded and sailed away.
It was me who removed their anchor
and smiled as they sailed into the distance.
As tumours poison our existence - I ponder;
will the human race survive earth's demise?
When death arrives we all leave alone empty handed,
not knowing that was the last day of our life.
I recall Freddie Mercury's famous lyrics...
Who wants to live forever.... Anyway.
Silent One
Simple Musings
19 June 2018
One windy night upon my breast
I felt the kiss of winter’s breath
A breath that blew me into flight
Upon my breast one windy night
A leaf once green now bathed in red
With coat of spring and summer shed
True color bursting at the seams
Now bathed in red a leaf once green
Upon your breath I learned to fly
A flame of glory in the sky
Not knowing that the price was death
I learned to fly upon your breath
But all too soon I came and went
The seasons of my life were spent
A bud in spring that came to bloom
I came and went - but all too soon
Ink of life cannot bleed for eternity,
so I place dried petals in between,
crucial chapters of my memoirs.
When we stop breathing poetry,
our crestfallen pen, left in silence -
where do we poets go?
Is there a special place,
where the ink flows forever,
like waterfalls of mercy -
where thirst quenches
through poetic potions.
Releasing unspoken words -
can you hear the messages?
Floating in the tepid breeze,
brushing against your face,
forming goose pimples.
When our spirits make love to poetry,
we radiate like rays of sunshine
warming the world.
We do not speak poetry,
it whispers to us,
like spotlights in the sky,
soothing scars upon the moon.
When we cry poetic tears,
we pour like raindrops,
refreshing seasonal blossoms.
Our muse battles storms,
like lilac lilies in the snow.
We illuminate like a timeless rainbow,
absorbing all spectrum of vibrancy.
Glistening after clouds clear,
from red to yellow to green.
We the word collectors,
soul connectors,
forever weaving like
spiders spinning cobwebs.
What becomes of us
when our pen's shadow
no longer appears.
We may never write the perfect poem,
but poetry reminds us we are alive -
as our words become immortal.
Simple Musing
Silent One
25 November 2020
How beautiful is what I see today
peeking from the green
and almost unseen,
blossoming for me – the first rose of May!
While she’s in the pink,
time is but a blink.
In this merry month, oblivious is she
to what’s to come as she poses prettily -
destiny evading
Her joy for now is sweet. What can she know
of life’s suffering?
She hears robins sing.
On her face, tears are but a dewy glow.
She is hope anew
now that she’s in view!
Will she – like me – feel her soul plunge to sorrow?
Or will I – like her – be until tomorrow
destiny evading. . .
a wish faint and fading?
May 21, 2018 for Broken Wing's "Let Your Pen Drip" Contest
Uses Gregory Barden's invented Qarinage Rhyme Pattern. See notes above.
For 'THE CRAP SHOOT POETRY CONTEST' Poetry Contest of John Lawless
A man’s tale
With mind control there he was,
A man for sale…
Hearing the vocal sound from this wordsmith,
A man in his own tale…
Currently, he was sitting and calling upon the earth.
Prior rumors about his love for the Queen.
Yet to come would be a bard, singing for Her Majesty-
A fool wrapped in a cowardly way.
Flowers and scars sat on his floor.
A torn heart, making its way out the door.
He caresses the image of her in his mind.
This man, this bard, sang a song for the blind.
Releasing a soft note, she turns towards the sun.
Forgetting the ferocious rage of the king.
The man kneels with the light flashing in his face.
He drinks with his eyes, one moment of glee.
His headlands under the moon's winter space.
Never again, will he spend his days thinking.
Never again-
will he feel the shivers when calling upon the earth and her beauty.
Never will he know, he was the tune that eased her thirst.
A man’s tale always ends under a woman’s spell.
by;PD
Painting sky before I was born,
Draping my grave in leaf and acorn.
----------------------------
Contest: Crystalline
Sponsor: Rick Parise
11.22.14
Day, my lifelong friend
Thousands of times have we said good morning to each other and
As many times have, we said goodnight,
You have awakened me up with the caresses of the sun’s rays and put me
To sleep with the lullabies of sunset’s myriad hues.
Many a time, you were calm as a harbor's waters, and others you were
Turbulent as the stormy sea,
But
I loved you the same, so we inseparable have remained.
How many times have I waited for your coming, you will never know.
Neither will you know how much I have prayed to see you faster go
When so unkind you were to me,
However,
You kept your pace unchanged, obeying only the will of mighty time.
All these years you have brought to me:
Joys and sorrows,
Laughter and tears,
Successes and failures
Health and sickness
Life and death.
You were the best of my friends and the worst of my enemies but
United, side by side, we stood. How could it be otherwise when we
Both wished our destiny to fulfill?
Now, my eternal friend, the circle of my life is almost complete.
The days for me are numbered.
How many more times are we going to salute each other is unknown to all but to God,
So
Before we say our final goodnight, let me thank you for every sunrise and every sunset,
For all the sunshine and all the storms you have brought to my life
For
Without them, an empty vessel, without any experiences would have been,
Useless to everybody and worthless to myself
Thus
When tomorrow you, my wise friend, come and unable you will be, me to awake,
Be not disturbed
Since
Another dawn, brighter than yours, will have taken me into its arms to
Console me with her everlastingly divine love!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
03 September 2015
Hey are you still breathing?
Are you still believing,
or is your heart seething?
Does life still have meaning?
How's the word weaving,
is the ink still bleeding?
Tell me, does your poetry still flow?
How do your flowers grow?
Seeds you used to sow,
do their colours still glow,
or did they die in the snow?
I wonder if your mind is still sane,
or is illness hurting your brain.
Do the pills heal the pain,
or do demons now reign?
Can you hear your mother's voice?
Do your children still rejoice?
Are your siblings still close,
or have relationships froze?
Do the ghosts still appear,
or did the shadows disappear?
Are you still the one who is silent,
have you kept from being violent?
Did you dance again with cancer,
did adversity give you an answer?
Did you always remain strong,
even when life did you wrong?
Are you loving, laughing or crying,
I hope you are not close to dying.
Is your spirit still ascending,
have you become tired of pretending?
Remember when I forgot to smile,
but regret left after a while,
so I hope you gained all that you yearned,
and all your dreams were returned.
Hope you found what you desired
and the journey kept you inspired.
Despite the difficulty of distance,
is she still the reason for your existence?
In the arms of your wonder woman,
resting your head upon her soft bosom.
Hope you rise to your beloved's eyes,
who understands your invisible cries.
Who makes your starry soul beam,
ignites the flames of your spirit's gleam.
Living forever in each other's heart,
till death tries to keep you both apart.
Sorry for writing this using rhymes,
I know it annoys you sometimes!
13 September 2021
midst the bosom of a once bountiful farm
lies the graveyard of my ancestors~
the gush of tears that flowed here- only the wind knows;
the willows by the brooks~ are barely there,
and those who survived have so many stories to tell.
still flowing- the Vito river
despite so many summer drought
still limpid on its march to the sea
whilst faded on its parched sands
my whilom friends' footprints~
who ran so fast that time
until youth came elusive in their eyes
the placid breeze now echo
nostalgic reminiscence
of a once warm abode...
oh, how time devoured the dainty dreams we built
how time entombed unspoken anguish
on beloved ones' eternal repose...
how time like wind teased our midnight lamps
and yet we lived the night like day~
with so many songs to sing...
with so much love to share...
when taste of life was only sweet.
oh, how we passed the time away~
unmindful of its ticking...
unmindful where did it go
now, as I stand ~
in front of these forlorn tombstones
in my hands are stone tablets
that bear the names of two people
who were once a slave of time;
in peace, they slumbered~
for they finally conquered,
the unconquerable.
I will die eagerly,
ready to go,
surrounded by neons
faeries, elves, imps
I will die happily,
in my own way
lying next to my garden
surrounded by orbs
I will die gracefully,
gladly and fully ready
adoring the heavenly
ancestors who come fetch me.
I will die with a smile
remembering my phenomenal
fantastic make believe world
my family, and my friends.
In the twilight hours
Out here on this ledge
I am filled
With the essence of Rose
As a gentle breath stirs
Her fallen petals
Strewn over
That long and winding road
Here on the brink
Where so many have come
Before me
And simply let go
I find myself wondering
Why I am here
Yet! I am afraid to know
So I cling to this ledge
Overcome with fear
Knowing the end is near
For there's no going back
Once you are here
for that moment
In Time
Disappeared
So...
I sit here
Filled up
With the essence of Rose
Each petal
A memory
Etched forever
On that road of life
Paved with both
Joy and misery
Until the last petal falls
Then I finally let go
Here at the end of the road
I, the last tear
From the faded blue eye
Of dear
Old wild Rose
A raven sits alone, perched upon a tombstone,
humming an eerie tone, which is sombrely known.
This deadly treachery is disturbing my reverie.
A shadowy energy, ready for tragedy!
My soul tries to ignore this Grim Reaper at my door.
I've seen him before, now he's back like an eager whore.
Upon my last breath, I prepare to dance with death,
sadly I must confess, I'm beginning to lose my strength.
Should I weep with woe, if this is my 'swan song' tango.
I just need to know how to perform my ending show.
Like a fish drawn to bait, it's time to accept my fate,
heaven or hell's gate is not for me to debate.
From mourning please abstain as memories will remain,
but those who mocked with disdain, from fake cries please refrain.
Silence was my nepenthe, but now it's my enemy,
as death is an adversary without a remedy.
Silent One
18 April 2021
Pushed there for a thousand years
and will be for a thousand more,
pushed there by the gentle winds
the silver waves upon the shore.
Ancient trees who watched here daily
are now dark silhouettes 'round the rim,
as dusk settles in over the still lake
and a dragonfly takes a final skim.
As the sun dips below the surface
silver waters gain a hint of gold,
their riches flow around my feet
giving me memories to be told.
The sands of time sift down below
where life goes drifting by,
and laid there for a thousand years
and beneath them, so shall I.
And become like a silhouette
to watch all life drift by,
and reliving in every moment
never stopping to ask why.
Pushed there by flowing currents
and the wind's most gentle roar,
I fade away like the golden sun
glint silver waves upon the shore.
As my spirit look down on the flesh,
Will it be angry or happy at death,
Will the life that I have lived be an inspiration,
Or will the whispers be negative conversations,
Will the church be full or will it be empty,
Will the tributes be 2,or will it be plenty,
Will the few that knew me laugh at me,
Or will children and elders cry for me,
Killed violently,would someone die for me,
Would my over-seas friends,really fly for me,
When "Across the Bridge"is sung,and the dust thrown in,
Will I be spotless or filled with sin,
Will the pastor preach that the Lord I had found,
When I am burnt or put under the ground,
Will my kids be comforted,I prepared for death,
Or will they be angry,I left them in debt,
One thing is for sure,death for the living,
So live your life to the the fullest,from the beginning....
The gun seems gun-shy in this space;
where deer hides hang on rustic walls
and granddad-tick-tocks beat, instead
of hearts in hollowed skins. The gun
a “trophy-bagger” in its rack,
a loud-mouth predator at rest,
this motherless, brother-less thug
perceives no pity-pangs... the gun
now quiet, buckshot empty, cold.
Above the stove’s phoenix soul hangs
an antlered head with prideful tines
the man, with bear-paw hands, had won.
A fox in freeze-frame-trot, a stiff
with cat glass eyes, attests his prize.
Indeed, like litterfall they fell,
unseen his haunt in hunter gear, his gun
a junkyard dog of steel. I say
they're beautiful in life. He says
they’re beautiful in death. Between
our words — a stand of pine — the shot!
that brought the shock of ammo air
that rib-cage-ripped and broke the breath,
that hurled the crows against the sky —
the blast that felled the 10-point buck that failed to sense your goddamn gun!
Yeah... blame the buck his reckless pose
and buckled throes. You felt the king!
Behind tight trees you sat with dawn
in sniper-silhouette. The gun
felt nothing; no remorse, no joy
—it, too, hangs upon the wall.