Best Final Resting Place Poems
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.
breathtaking sunset
gold dust shimmers on calm sea
sweet birdsong ceases
10-24-17
You're locked in your room and tied to your bed
There's blood on your pillow from the hole in your head
You lay and you wait, just welcoming death
No fight or struggle as you breathe your last breath
The rain is cold as it thunders and storms
But your blood flows red, silent and warm
The wind blows hard as it howls through the trees
You lay motionless as I beg and I plead
A tear drop falls on your pale colored skin
There's a smile as you whisper faintly, "Allison"
A gun shot to your head, a bullet to the brain
No matter how you word it, the results are just same
The lighting will flash and the thunder will roar
Time will move forward, but for you no more
Form:
My final resting place.
I may be in the room next door
I may be down the hall,
Don’t you try looking for me
As you won’t find me here at all.
I’m in my final resting place
A place where you can’t see,
A place where you can’t visit
And sit and talk with me.
But I am always with you
And believe me when I say,
I will be here waiting
When it comes to your ‘resting day’
Where we can be together
And sit and laugh and cry,
But don’t you rush to join me here
With the birds up in the sky.
Please just keep this promise
That you will always be,
That lovely, true, kind person
Who always saw the best in me.
The person who I turned to
When things were good or bad,
And even though I’m gone now
I beg you, please don’t feel too sad.
When you think of me from time to time
And a tear rolls down your face,
I tell you I am happy here
In my final resting place.
Death be not proud, bare-chested, forever resting
in dross mixed with the amalgamation of your unrest.
— by poet
Putin’s Final Resting Place
Blow it all up!
Be done with you!
As the ash, like snow
earns you
your eternal urn.
2/22/2022
G - Give me a new poem- any form - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Death