Death Free Verse Poems | Examples
These Death Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Death. These are the best examples of Free Verse Death poems written by international poets.
it does not matter what your discourse
lost in the marble folds of la pieta
mother holding her son
rises above mere human differences
the sorrow of a mother holding tragedy
mauled as a common animal
the fruit of her womb
it began in the encounter, his road to calvary
her vigil as he passed
watching her son forced to abandon life
the outstretched arms, hands bleeding
the wound in his side, feet anchored with nail
Simeon's sword has come to pass
no matter the discourse herein, a mother's sorrow
she is not alone, a plethora of mothers
know too well this aching heart
as the smoke clears and cannons rest in silence
across the bodies now motionless
we hear a desperate plea
mother, mother, no cry dearer
9/15/26
Life’s unsung tunes fade away
into nothingness with the menagerie of mirage
disappearing in the realm of death.
Trudging on the desolate deserted pathway
the fragile footprints collapse in his kingdom
where the cosmic monarch of the end,
the ruler of the last breath,
carves his throne from the sands of time.
With the arcane image of terror concealed
like the sordid silhouettes of lethal menace
the king rules without mercy or malice,
lurks in the shadow of dark danger
into the quintessence of placid life,
and waits at the pause of every heartbeat,
encased within the freight frame,
configured from the vicious void
of timeless inevitability.
A DEDICATION TO MY GODSON CARLETON
What can I say, when I received news that you
had gone to be with our Lord.
I called you, but you didn’t respond.
I asked our Lord many times to make a change
in your life, but I didn’t expect this.
My only hope was that I was a good influence
in your life, and that you felt you could depend on me.
I hate to see you go this way, but it seems
to have been the only
choice, if you can call it a choice.
I will miss you terribly.
So long, my dear Carleton.
I will always love you.
then ...
we watched
a world weeping
blood …
a villain's twisted hope
humanity's horror
steel like butter
melting …
strange birds in stranger
air - flailing …
sirens in chorused agony for
those whose voices
were silenced …
perfect azure vault, stained
with poison ...
breath of ashen
brutality -
the incense for an
evil anointing …
a somber search for
survivors -
for bodies, answers, hope
for God ...
death screamed at
the sky and
opened the keep -
truth tumbling into the
darkness …
two decades down, yet
it still trembles
whispers ...
waits.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photograph of twisted metal taken at backside of Ground Zero by Anne Buber )
August end
Welcoming Autumn cool breeze
Distributing new academic spiritual syllabus
Sun illuminates' life’s pondering campus
Deceased leaves spotlight beauty
Depart the world
Will return again
Alive and well
A Mother nature rebirth
Steeped in tradition
Tonight an escort holds a lantern
Ready to guide me
Through the early fall dark
Star less night
Wanting another day
“Do not be afraid
Future arrives soon
And you will have your historical spirit”
This I remember
Getting ready to haunt
Those who need answers
More than gold
Introducing closure
Honest strong treasure
Discovered through
Exploring resting peace
This I am told
After ghost orientation 101
Amy cat passed
six days ago today…
FATE took her away
after eleven purrfect years
We offer this tribute with gratitude
for the gray tabby ninja with cattitude —
finis vitae sed non amoris
(“Something From Nothing”, 2024, original encaustic)
He’s always smiling, the damn fool
Sometimes veiled as a new moon
Sometimes bright as the midday sun,
And always right there with me
Right in front or riding my left shoulder
Good old Death, so patient and kind
Giving me another day
Waiting for that one last dance
As I work the steps, again and again
Wanting to get it right
This one last time.
What do I see in that face anyway?
All that I have been
And all that I may yet become.
(9/11/26)
I have to admit
at times I am intellectually
lazy – settling for the thoughts
and leadership of others. Being
wrong is a heavy responsibility
when it comes to life and death.
When it comes to failure or success.
The chef knows the heartache of
a bad flavor. The captain, a sunk
ship. The father, no roof over his
family’s head. What must God think?
With infinite wells provided, and so few,
having the blessed opportunity, willing to
draw for themselves.
-----------------------------------------------------
"Youth is too often wasted on the young"
as Freedom on the Free!
The monument was stone --
actually marble, somewhat
more affluent. The writing
was calligraphy, carefully
chiseled by a fine hand.
The occupant was dead -- All the same….
I remember as I child
eyeing the Christmas
tree, all lit and broadcasting.
Early-on I realized that Father
was Santa. Mother sensed it
when they married. Father, let go of his
well defined ego, embraced the principal
to secure the family, protect and
serve selflessly onto death.
I have drunk my death in your eyes,
and now my thirst is sated.
switch the light on
and never turn it off
once the darkness is gone
you'll fall in love
when the light shines for you
you can finally see just what they do
and once you know
the future may not be bright
because terror hides in plain sight
all you have
they'll try to take
all you love and
all you make
for power and money
is all they crave
send you to war
because they are so
brave brave [brave, brave]
we are the ones who win the wars
and they are the ones
who keep us on the floor
fight their battles
but never win
return home
and wonder why the wars begin
the opprobrium of humanity at times
has a sweetness to it that sours nature
time leaves it in shambles
on an unforgivable foundation
let his death be upon our children and us
fade into burning crosses
where in the dying embers
stand in shadows of the gallows
where hatred had triumphed
and the stark realism
the flood did not remove the vermin
the lioness will devour the lamb
doves will scatter in the church bells
and as the world turns
the bats are free of the belfry
Oregon 8/26/26
There is someone I often have contact with
who is very harsh to me and often unkind
I am walking wounded right now, with
a huge gash in my soul due to my son's death
It feels like that harshness and unkindness is making
my heart hurt worse and discouraging me at a time
that I need to cling to things that promote healing
and mental health, so I have some decisions to make
However, I can see that I am progressing on my
healing journey because I can recognize it and feel
strong enough to know I can do something about it
I doubt that death
will silence me – really,
I do! Too aware of my
sleep walking and
forgotten dreams, tacit
residuals of restless nights --
I sense that I have traveled
both day and by night
from light into dark, when
my body prone then did my
spirit embark --
life requires no full memory
record, vivid enough if
times, as many of mine, illusive
yet stark --