Death Elegiac Lyric Poems | Examples
These Death Elegiac Lyric poems are examples of Elegiac Lyric poems about Death. These are the best examples of Elegiac Lyric Death poems written by international poets.
When shadows lengthen and the day grows still,
I lean into the quiet, soft and deep,
Just pulling up the blankets for a sleep.
It feels like resting after years of work,
Like sitting down when all the chores are done,
No heavy doubts or fears that try to lurk,
Just watching out the window, the fading sun.
My breathing slows, a simple, steady rhythm,
And all the noise inside begins to clear,
I leave the weight of everyday right with them,
And find a strange, gentle stillness here.
No dramatic exit, no pain to fight or mend,
Just letting go, and letting darkness blend.
In the words of Karl Marx "Last words are for fools who haven't said enough!"
We had lived a life of love and everyday
said more than words can say.
When it was time to say goodbye,
my heart I handed you with a just a sigh.
AP: 2nd place 2025
For sixty years he sang and
Everyone knew his voice.
Then he had to retire,
But it wasn’t his choice.
He loved his singing lifestyle
As well as his boozing.
But it caught up with him and
He told Barbara, “I'm loosing.”
The only thing we can
Depend on is death.
But no one knows when
They’ll take that last breath.
And I don’t want loosing
To be part of my fate.
I want to know I’ll enter
That pearly white gate!
I don’t know if Old Blue Eyes
Sings up in heaven today.
I do know that Jesus
Has shown me the way.
And if he’s there too,
Then we’ll sing together.
It won’t be loosing if we sing
Praises forever and ever!
"I want nothing but death." - Jane Austen
Fatigue, weakness, and bilious attacks
I am dying day by day, night by night.
Each of my bones, like a worn-out twig, cracks.
Each split moment is an eternal fight.
My eyes yearn to see my bright day of death.
When my worries will be buried with me
Gentle breezes of heaven fill my breath.
Angels and seraphs all around I see.
Poesy has gone dry like desert streams.
Nocturnal beings pervade my blank mind.
I miss those buoyant aureate sunbeams.
Within my withering self I'm confined.
Let this life here on earth end like a feast.
Let me, from all my bondages, be released!
“I must go in, the fog is rising.”
~Emily Dickinson
I must go in, the fog is rising,
outside my door the world is fading
and I won't see the sun arriving
to color morning sky awaiting.
It's been said life lasts an hour only,
days pass by as if a charcoal painting
left out in weather and so lonely,
leaving simple shadows in the waning.
Death does not kindly stop for me,
suddenly does it appear like night,
or perhaps like fog arising slowly~
and I must enter in to find the light.
The first lines in stanza two and three were inspired by Dickinson poems
Let me hear your love song
Whilst in silence I was long
Let me taste your melody
Like sweet berries on my tongue
Let me hear your love song
Slide your bow across the strings
Move to the wave of my arms
Declare your love song to me
Open wide the pores of my heart
Like baby birds awaiting treats
Fill me with your aching music
With your rapid rhythm beats
Over stones the rising rapture
Of ocean waves rolling through
Frantic climax a memory after
This sweet love song to me, from you.
Let the sea be my grave and the crest of waves my monument
In statue's peace, faces I to faceless waters that lift me high
As being a whole of me rise free so I may greet the open sea
Then let my final issue bid farewell to you and the life I knew
As the palms of current grace be a song of Psalms sacred pace
As the fluid ebbing flows drift I to the lowest depths unknown
Be that true to I and I alone there be a place where I'll atone
Then I'll prepare that place for me, await death's kiss to eternity.
Attached segregated I touched his warm skin yet
Deceased He was asleep he was non awaken
He was hidden he was asleep under the sheet he slept
His chest no longer rose I placed the side of my face contemplating
Down by his nose his eyes were shut closed
No breath his soul a spirit risen he was in death
Detached segregated I touched his cool cold skin yet
No breath his soul a spirit risen he was in death
1/5/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2024
Late July, the clouds billow waiting the afternoon rain
This summer although just is not the same
The seasons of my life have in a moment been changed
I see you clearly in the reflections of the past
I'm afraid now hoping the reflection will last
The tides of July have changed my life
"I must carry on" you explained to me
"One foot in front of the other, just breathe"
These words in my heart, I'll shall keep
A flame illuminates the dark, it is you that brightens my soul
A flame that will burn into my days' of old
You graced me with love I cannot explain
All the days' of my life your love shall remain
Can I handle the seasons of my life, I will try
Every beat of my heart is for you, I now know why
Our hearts are entwined, for there never is a goodbye...
Tears flow in torrents, I shiver and gulp, weeping loudly by the window at my dead cousin’s fleeting ghostly figure.
Date posted : January 16th 2021
Contest : 20 Words Max - Do It With Feeling Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Line Gauthier
Twenty Words verified by Poetry Soup Syllable Counter And Grammar Checker
Grandpa got a twenty-one gun salute.
I shivered, knowing how much he hated guns
After Viet Nam
The last time he picked one up was in a jungle.
Fifty years ago.
They are playing taps now.
Sad dirge sound.
Grandpa liked Johnny Cash and Elvis
Both would have been better at his funeral
I glare at the soldiers playing taps.
Why is this so sad? Grandpa liked happiness.
Felt a hand on my shoulder.
My grandpa’s hand.
No one else ever did this to me.
I knew that he knew what I was thinking.
We were close.
He had taught me to take apart cars
And how to be a man.
Funerals no longer sad to me.
No breeze today...
trees pose statuesque
flowers icily stiil
time slows to a stop.
thought holds on pause..
air has that feel of fall..
On the wind,
a bell
muffled from across the square..
teardrops fill the air
When full of gloom and full of pain,
I all alone bemoan my state
like one that has slid back again
into despair which I most hate.
Despondent into the midnight,
I trouble dear God with my cries
as I suffer this bipolar plight
with burning, red, tear-laden eyes.
The night is long—I am distraught;
I yearn for rest, to help forget
this melancholy that's like rot—
like Death and I first ever met!
But I do find solace in this—
my family and friends do care:
and if I die I will be missed.
So I endure the great despair.
But then sleep comes. And I know peace.
In the morn, I wake to arising—
Joy breaks in and gives me new lease:
and myself I break from despising!