Long death Poems
Long death Poems. Below are the most popular long death by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long death poems by poem length and keyword.
Man’s intrinsic apathy's negligence-justified frown
Is the actual defining substance of a mortal clown;
Who with hollowed prejudgments fellow men slays,
And likens to hallowed duty his thoughtless decays.
He is evil's meekest martyr by doom's onus bound,
The cold-blooded outlaw donning dark's lucid veils;
His the bounden call to trim unwary lives that thrive,
His a sworn charge to hit to halt sea's merriest sails.
They're hell's happiest saints of true devoted cadre,
Obstinate desperados who without real reason hate;
Theirs rare glories for wanton vitriol by meanest fate
Met on innocent casualties of villainy's vicious adder.
What grand gratification fills world's cruelest hearts
That sting undeserving souls in most delicate parts?
Why do allegedly feeling minds grow numbest to cry,
Whilst their pleading victims in iron malevolence die?
How can life’s most cognitive kind find sweet preys,
In other creatures alike in mien and all visible ways?
The gentle wind warms my old wrinkled skin
As I slowly sink in the sea's soft sand
The gliding flight of seabirds seen again
Beyond gray contours where sea touches land
Their soft silhouettes claim this final place
As I silently stare into the view
And find quiet edges my eyes embrace
Knowing all of us are just passing through
This moment of peace turns, as thoughts now come
To many souls who've stood here before me
And saw the same sky, heard the tides same drum
Wondered of their place in life's decree
As beautiful colors float in my mind
I'll hope the next old soul reflects in kind
written by Frederic Parker
He left the riches of Heaven,
To come to a sin-cursed world.
Born to a virgin named Mary,
God's plan of salvation unfurled.
Who would have thought that God's own Son,
Would be born in a stable stall,
Instead of a magnificent palace,
Where He would be honored by all?
And who would have guessed that the King of Kings,
Would walk through dusty streets,
Wearing clothing made of homespun cloth,
An with leather sandals on His feet?
He should have been clothed in purple and gold,
With a jeweled crown on His head.
He should have been worshiped by one and all,
But was rejected and scorned instead.
He came to bring healing and life to men,
He came to redeem mankind.
His life exemplified compassion and love.
How could they have been so blind?
Instead of a royal coronation,
He was arrested, mocked and tried.
Instead of being crowned as King of the land,
He was nailed to a cross and died.
If that was the end of the story,
It would be a tragedy indeed.
But God raised Jesus from the grave,
So from death and sin we'd be free.
And one day when the time is right,
King Jesus will come again.
And this time He'll come to reign and rule,
Over the nations and the hearts of men.
2/8/08
Enora used to take him walking in the woods…they would listen to the trees….They would stop to touch the flowers…watch the butterfly and bees.
Enora loved to walk among the birds…she knew them all by name……She did not have a favorite one…for she loved them all the same.
She would close her eyes and listen to their songs…their melodies without words….“Oh I would give anything.” She’d say…”to be singing with these birds.”
On the day Enora passed away…the Enora he adored…he ran into the forest…to the place where they explored.
He remembered how they walked these woods..and all the wonders they had found…but he was not expecting…what he discovered on the ground.
He was thinking of Enora…when suddenly he heard…plaintive cries…what sounded like the moaning of a bird?
He looked around and then he saw it… a few steps up ahead…a baby bird had fallen from the nest…the baby bird was dead.
He scooped her in his hands as gently as he could…then in a voice both sad and calm…he looked up in the tree and said, “I’m sorry!” to the mom.
Tears cascaded down his cheek…as he looked into the mother bird’s eyes…as he listened to her somber tweet…as he watched the mother bird cry?
He nestled the bird within his hands…she was a beautiful shade of blue…then carried her back to his front porch…unsure what to do.
As his thoughts returned to Enora…it became easy to decide….He filled an old shoe box with cotton…then laid the bird inside.
He carried that box back back to the woods…got on his hands and knees…and with mom (and Enora) watching….buried her beneath that tree.
“I know that you’re unhappy, momma bird.” He said. “Wishing things were different than they were.”…but your baby’s with Enora now…and she’ll take care of her…”
Then he looked up to the heavens…searching in his heart for the right words…“I think you got her wish Enora.” He said…”have fun singing with the birds.”
Then the momma bird landed on a lower branch…and sang the sweetest lullaby
as both boy and bird found their own way…
to say their last good-bye.
The sound of a clear Blackbird call
Echoed through the trees and over the fields making me stop and fall
Upon my knees his song followed on and on
An angelic sound of music ‘twas the Blackbird song
I cried tears and tears listening on and on
The sounds of pure, crystal life; beauty found in this world of war where the madness of men goes on and on
Through the smokey mist I could not see this beauty sing
To me there was never on earth a more wonderful thing
After days and nights of bullets, screaming, tears and bombs
Hearing the crying fields through the restless nights as death lingers on and on
Knowing for poor souls out there who’ll never make it back
Dying afraid and alone; dying on their backs
In my trench I wait for the next whistle call
I see in the eyes of men that their souls are due to fall
The rumbling war in the distance sings a dinging, disturbing song
Down the lines of trench as fighting begins and goes on and on
I find myself waiting for fate to play it’s hand
When the whistle calls I struggle to find courage to again enter no-mans land
I find myself waiting for the sounds of the Blackbird song.........
Through tears I find some beauty in war listening to this dead mans’ song
In the small verdant village of Kora-Kay
Live peaceful folk who fish, eat and play
At sunset they dance around drum circles and sing
Of yesteryears’ joys and what tomorrow may bring
The words fame and fortune are never needed
As their bounty—food and friends—cannot be exceeded
At death, forever with loved ones they’ll dwell
Knowing of heaven but nothing of hell
One night a group of strange men wander in
Their translator tells them all about sin
There will be no family to greet them up in the sky
Only hell if they believe their own heathen lie
In hell they will burn in eternal flame
For their unrepentant, filthy, naked shame!
They will scream in torment, their pleas unheard
If they do not immediately accept the word
Each child cries and runs to their wailing mother
As elders give despairing looks to each other
Kora-Kay’s chief strolls in to solemnly say
We are a welcoming people, but you must go away
In the small verdant village of Kora-Kay
Dwells a peaceful folk who fish, eat and play
Written 5/29/22
Your Favourite Poem From The First Half Of 2022 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
I’ll be gone this summer.
It’s just a fact of life.
One day when the moon settles into the heavens
and the hazy heat loses its grip on the day,
I’ll walk to the woods
and never emerge.
I’ll become one with the earth,
take my last breaths to the sounds of crickets and
squirrels scurrying to their treetop homes.
It’s not particularly something I want to do;
some days, I even find myself scoffing at this possibility.
But deep down, I know it must be done.
My existence is a wrong that must be righted
by my own hand, if by nothing quicker.
I’m better off dead.
No doubt about it.
I’ll lift the weight off my loved ones soon.
I just hope they know the last words on my lips will be a whispered
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I've been troubled
As of late
Stumbling in the darkness
To the presence of a golden gate
The moment I reach
The glistening bars
I awake, irritated
That I can only go...so...far
~then Reality~
That feeling of want
Presses me to find
Perceived treasures
In my empty mind
There has to be a key
That will open what's closed
Beyond the boundaries
Of what this world knows
~about the Sacred~
Without the all from beyond
The confines of this place
I must reconcile my knowledge
To that locked gate
Imagination and dreams
Invite the bored to entertain
That life would be better
If you possessed all you COULD gain
~without unpleasantness~
Everything in this ground
Grows with weeds and fruit together
Each plant has to fight
To not allow self to be tethered
What is this place I'm in
It seems to be a garden of death
Where the withered and worn
Lay down their last breath
~to a black earth~
And the Grave Gardner
Collects the doomed soul
Awaiting the Revelation
Of a hidden goal
~there has to be a reason~
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-08-2018
I sit in the park,
My curfew long passed.
My mind so tired,
Yet moving so fast.
I can feel you,
The real you,
Before you past.
Save the moment,
Make it last.
A beautiful body,
In such beautiful motion,
I am filled with such deep emotion.
Close my eyes,
And I can see,
Your spirit all around me.
From the depths of the ground,
To the tops of the trees,
Your spirit is all I can see.
A memory you are not,
A legacy is what you sought.
From inside my heart,
To all I see,
Your spirit lies within me.
I open my eyes,
And walk in your shoes,
I am no longer in my blues.
Your happiness,
Pumps in my veins,
I hear your voice,
Run through the plains.
I scream to you,
My voice it strains.
Three words,
Always the same.
Where are you I yell,
And I know you hear,
Because you whisper in my ear.
I love you,
And I am always here.
Rain you just used me
You poured your heart out
Then left me to pick up the pieces
Drowning in your anger
You chose to visit
Gathering interest along the way
Collecting clouds in your pocket
Wind clung to your sleeve
The hijacker of days
A changer of moods
You reign without peer
As you excrete your venomous side
I crave your tears
When parched lips scorch
Then question your intention
When you divide my world
Where does your spirit lie?
When life and death
Is cradled in your arms
And I wait for judgement
Lost, both need and alarm consume me
In equal measure
Listen to my fears
Hear my cries
And be wise with your tears