Best Death Love Poems
Painting by Edvard Munch, 1895: "Moon Light"
your soft hand trembles in mine
no words are spoken
we observe our ascending full moon
as we have every month for forty years
empyrean empress rises to her throne
queen regent of the night sky reigning
over brooding blue bay and melancholic mountains
as predictable as death
we again sit in our folding chairs
whispering under our favorite tree
anticipating the coming light show
enjoying her long bridal veil
shimmering in the existential ripples
a nocturne of nebulous narratives
stopping at the shore line
stopping
she inevitably will descend
the shroud of shadow will cover the land
comforted that tomorrow will awaken
to a resplendent sun
and next month will bring another full moon
the doctor said three weeks
so this will probably be our last
your soft hand trembles in mine
no words are spoken
written 11 July 2023
Seared upon my soul for ever more
That break of dawn upon a summer morn
As I made my way along that rocky shore
Strewn with remnants from a raging storm
When through a rising mist of gray - so forlorn
I saw a badly broken sinking ship
With canvas wings of white so sadly torn
There beneath those majestic purple cliffs
And as that mighty fearless ocean roared
With salty breezy breath so filled with scorn
I saw it rise up from the ocean floor
Wrapped in a velvet coat so frayed and worn
A red, red, rose impaled upon a thorn
Where passion bled like rain from ruby lips
Upon a vivid memory reborn
There beneath those majestic purple cliffs
The wind - it whispered - in my ear - Lenore
As black clouds in the sky began to form
Into a face I’d never seen before
With hollow cheeks that endless tears adorned
That fell in frozen crystal drops so foreign.....
Then from those clouds his face began to slip
And I cried the tears of a woman scorned
There beneath those majestic purple cliffs
Lenore, the love he would forever mourn
That from his pen on page in words did drip
As I read his poetry and love was born
There beneath those majestic purple cliffs.
~~~~
Author: Elaine George of Canada
Written: February 28, 2011
A tribute to: Edger Allen Poe and his Lenore
Sweet youth, beauty
By Luna's light.
Cobalt colors
How sweet it is...
I know of great love,
There will never be enough time.
I am here for you.
What is love...crimson rose,
Love stanzas, champagne,
An arc to heaven...
Moonstruck heartbeats?
Lily of the Nile,
By the waters edge,
Romantic waters.
Mountain magic
Flash dancing with dawn.
Oh Luna...cold Moon rising,
Death's cold hand.
Behold Death.
Emma's epitaph...
Soul travel, a glimpse of heaven,
Bodies of light...tranquility.
My Waning years, reflections, hold me.
Autumn's aria, heart song,
Angel love,
Heaven
7-10-19
Collaboration Of Your Titles Poetry Contest ~First Place~
Sponsored by: charles messina
~Poem of the Day July 13, 2019~
Thank you so much for the honor Poetry Soup Team and Members. I appreciate this very much.
Brick by brick I built my walls,
despite fires raging,
I preserved paths that connected
bridges between our breathless existence.
Now that my heartbeats
have reached a dead end street,
let me rest my jaded head
upon your chest -
for fate has foretold it as my abode to forever sleep.
I was the melatonin to your insomnia,
you the immunity to internal inflictions.
If only I could have drank your infatuation,
as a remedy for my antagonising agony.
Poetry was only a provisional potion,
yet it distracted from all negative notions.
We weaved a blanket of words,
where you adored the moon in nocturnal notoriety,
whilst I portrayed the beauty of sunrise in your eyes.
I guess nothing illuminates forever.
If this was my last love poem,
would you forgive my silence?
Would you still bless me in your verses,
or let my memories wither
like the petals your promised
to bloom in our poetic garden?
Would I be your last metaphor,
in your final spill of tears?
Or would you reveal to the world,
the greatest unfinished love story.
In manipulation of manifestation,
I was your willing wordsmith,
protecting you with my shield of sanity -
in the hope I slayed every demon who desired you.
If it was a crime to love you,
then I was content as a criminal,
awaiting my destiny on death row.
Upon my pilgrimage yearning for love.
I found myself surrounded by a plethora of petals.
Day and night I searched for a fragrance.
An aroma that would lead to you.
As twilight dimmed clementine horizons,
there you were,
glistening in the moonlight.
Your scent seduced my senses,
my heart became a willing admirer.
Something awoke that day,
forgotten emotions suppressed
by fate's injustices, were reborn,
illuminated like the blazing sun.
Yet such is the fragility of fate -
as sins from the heavens poured,
forming a turbulent tempest,
you wilted, and I was unable to save you.
In the sadness of silence,
I watched as your petals floated away
so I waited,
hoping the winds would take me too
but I'm still here -
Isolated - shivering, soaking in misery,
without a petal to call my own.
Silent One
Simple Musing
16 July 2019
No one can forever soothe a soul,
as all memories evaporate like sunrise dew,
but remember me
when mist congregates at dawn.
Recognise my ghost,
when the fresh breeze brushes your lips.
I will be hiding in the khaki hues of nature,
from the first bloom,
to the last thorn,
to the last leaf,
as my spirit is the essence of four seasons,
so remember me among the 'forget me nots,'
and the scents that bring a pause.
When you paint your masterpiece of dahlia,
don't ignore the moon gazing in awe.
Unless you have given him a new name.
In the tranquillity of twilight,
notice me beaming, surrounded by lanterns.
Unless you no longer recognise my eyes.
In sun searing reveries,
as turquoise waves soften sandy ripples,
listen to spirits whispering our lyrics,
and remember me when adorning lilac fibres,
which you stripped from my chest.
When thunder knocks at your door,
and lightning flashes at your windows,
will you remember me
in the humidity after the monsoon?
When the path is dark,
and the journey turbulent,
will you commemorate me in you sighs?
I cannot return the souvenirs,
gifted to me from your words,
nor erase double edged metaphors,
where love's reflection, once glittered,
so when your muse is lifeless,
relive our recollections
without the need for ink.
Upon the arrival of silence,
when your hands have nothing to hold,
place them together
and remember me
in the sacredness we once shared.
Simple Sunday Musing.
21/6/26
Alone in a meadow in the pouring rain
I find the stone that causes all my pain,
As I stumble through the fog in disbelief
I fall down upon my knees and sob in grief
The fog horn cries her mournful sound
As my heart falls down, beneath the ground
Crying out to God for mercy all in vain
To take away the stone that bears your name
Author: Elaine George
My
Love
For
You
Is
Pure
And
True
When
I
Am
Dead
Nought
Said
( A Monosyllabic Sonnet )
© DAW
In autumn’s wind, I look up to the sky.
How sweet the breath of love upon my face!
In rustling leaves, I hear you softly sigh;
in autumns wind, I look up to the sky
and see what time and death cannot erase. . .
In guise of sun’s bright rays, you are nearby!
In autumn’s wind, I look up to the sky.
How sweet the breath of love upon my face!
Written 2/7/2015 for the Contest of Gail Angel Doyle
I have been to places of great death:
walking the battlefield at Gettysburg,
as a lusty young man of no firm belief
who stepped between the great rocks
of Devil's Den and felt his soul shudder
as though he had been a soldier there,
and died in fear a long, long time ago.
I taught my tongue to the gentle Khmers
as civil war raged and the killing fields
were being sown-- I left before the
heartless murdering began, the killing
of over a million: teachers and students,
doctors and peasants, the old, the young,
each with a photo taken before dying,
their images taped to classroom walls.
And when I visited Hiroshima, now myself
chastened by death's touch, and knowing
my soul real, knowing of meaning absolute
and of unseen forces working good or ill,
as I stood at the first ground zero, I once
again shuddered to feel the pull of madness
(though I knew not if it was my own or some
remains of that evil which brought the fire
and brimstone of a world wide war...).
But by then I knew I could pray, and so
opened my desperate heart and sought
His mercy. Suddenly I saw a sort of angel
who took me from that place of insanity,
healing me while we wandered by the
beauty of the Inland Sea as my storm
calmed and left me, never to return....
I have been to places of great death, and
I have felt death's cold, careless hands.
Yet now I know what death itself fears:
the Light, the light eternal which carries
souls beyond time itself, like the winds
of a Love exceeding all understanding.
the snow
undissolved
amid my heart
wanders eternal
as does my avidity
its difficult to accept
“to move on to forget”
six feet yet unreachable
how will this feeling melt
my everything lost tomorrow
‘we’ wander, separate, absent
as I hang by the blistering icicle
I want to accept but never forget
will a 'farewell' do me as to liberty
my tears frozen yet sentiments warm
let our memories perpetual we coexist
as you’l love in summer and I will in winter
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He was a tall muscular man, dark-
haired and in the prime of his life.
In horror I watched him stumble and
fall back, face up onto the green grass.
Three knife wounds cut deep, thrown
with great speed and precision by
an assassin dressed in black in a
matching sombrero with silver band.
I rushed to his side placing both
my trembling hands on his cheeks
as I watched his face become pale.
My tears fell on his face as I pleaded
with him, don't die, please don't die.
He couldn't speak to me, but his eyes
said I love you before his spirit departed.
I laid my head on his bleeding chest
and sobbed uncontrollably in disbelief.
It was then that I saw her standing there
In the corner of the lawn with a slight
smile on her face, her soft dress blowing
in the breeze, and I knew it was she,
his own wife, who had hired the assassin.
I heard windchimes sadly sing his epitaph.
8/19/2018
Wind Chimes Poetry Contest~N/A~
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
The street seemed so much smaller now
The grime and the smell were still the same though
Engrained like the people who lived there
It was the only thing that never left him
She stayed at twenty-three
One tough girl
Christ, he still remembers the day she knocked him out
Slightly concussed, he proposed to her
Not bad for a twelve-year-old
She couldn’t stop laughing
She wasn’t marrying no wimp that day
In fact, her daily ritual was knocking him down
Mum, is love painful
If it’s true love, it can be
It was, his head was testament to that
He just kept going back for more
To give her, her due, she was happy to give it to him
One day he told her straight. I don’t care how many times you knock me down. I’m going to be your boyfriend. He waited for the punch
She kissed him
He fell down again
She starting laughing
It felt like the greatest feeling ever
They became inseparable after that
Young love had conquered
One day she told him she was going away
I’m going with you
It’s not that kind of going away
Is there another kind
It’s the dying kind of going away
Yes, but you won't die for a long time
A year the doctors said
That didn’t make sense to him
We’ll just have to make the most of it, she said
Make the most of it
The most precious year of his young life
She died the way she lived.
Demanding he did the best he could with his life
There were times when he really struggled
Times he thought of joining her
The pain in his head always changed that
Even in death, she got to him
The years passed by
He made good
She would be proud of him
The street seemed so much smaller now
The grime and the smell were still the same though
Engrained like the people who lived there
It was good to be home...
She fought to the end and was so brave,
now at peace, asleep in her grave.
"With Angels Wings"
The whispering winds, a song they sing
A song of sorrow and of a heart so big
Your love reaches as far as the eye can see
I believe in dreams because in my heart, you beat
Just as a gentle breeze shimmers every leaf
Your love, in every heart, plants a seed
Elegance, love and hope is what grows beneath
And this is your gift to us....
For safe keeping.
So...if you ever wonder why heaven sings
It's because now you fly...
With Angels Wings