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.
rider on the deviled dust.
Solitude, is what you trust in most.
Have you no warmth for mankind
I hope that what you are looking for you find.
A mystery inside.
Out on the desert plains.
From the world you hide away.
In this blighted place
Where the demon djinn whisper on the wind.
Where self sacrifice is destined to do you in.
Where good advice comes from only you and yours.
Of sense and memory each day trys to erode.
Each action solemn in this death dance.
Fortune, fleeting like the sands through your hand.
To God in your prayers and penance.
Is a gratitude, still, and you smile of it.
As your blood works to cool your brain.
Busy miraging over the sand veins,
at the carrion, in wait.
As they circle in patience amongst the dunes.
For your martyrdom, as you search for the rains due.
A wraith in a barren wasteland.
Surveying your sparkling kingdom.
Thinking anew of the multitudes, who will never weigh
true.
The sands upon the scales of freedom.
The Now Continuum
In the quiet pulse of the present's breath,
Lies the secret, the power that outlasts death.
Not in the past, where shadows cling tight,
Nor in the future, a distant flight.
The now, the moment, this sacred time,
Where all is aligned, where hearts chime.
It whispers, “You are the creator, the key,
Unlock your truth, and just let it be.”
Since thoughts speak in past tenses,
Drop the mind, rely on senses.
Embracing and releasing,
Pain pangs and pleasure pleasing.
There was a beggar who asked me for R10,
With a tired face, worn by life's harsh trend.
I looked at him, and I asked, "Have you searched deep within yourself?"
For many seek outside, not knowing the wealth
Lies within, in the heart, in the soul's true song,
A treasure that’s been there all along.
He sat atop a bucket, weary and lost,
I asked, “Have you checked what’s inside, at what cost?”
He shook his head, “I’ve never dared to look,
Since I got it, I've just sat, in the same old nook.”
“Open it,” I said, “See what’s in your grasp,
Your power is hidden, break free from the clasp.”
He opened the lid, his eyes widened in awe—
A golden bar, a life-changing law.
No longer a beggar, no longer in need,
For inside that bucket lay the seed
Of wealth and freedom, the key to his fate,
A life transformed, no longer chained by fate.
In the now, in the present, you hold your own power,
A moment of truth, a single hour.
What you seek outside, you already possess,
It’s within, it's yours—nothing less.
For the continuum of time is vast,
But the now is your anchor, built to last.
Embrace the present, let it be your guide,
In this eternal now, you cannot hide.
So rise, creator, in this space so wide,
The universe moves, and you’re the tide.
In the now, your future is spun,
You are the light, the moon, the sun.
In the now, your future is done,
The present is where you’ve already won.
He loved to take his ladies to the Point,
a place that only locals knew about.
He hated bars or any kind of joint
where common folks with wagging tongues hung out.
The Point had a view of all the city.
Far from the crowds, it had the perfect spot
where he could take each woman oh so pretty,
and place around her white neck a garrote.
He loved to see the terror in their eyes
and feel them struggle with their strangled breath.
His stunning looks and charm were the disguise
that led them up that mountain to their death.
The point is that no woman could discern
his truth until their point of no return.
Dec. 9, 2016
I’m home now.
I’ve found a place of safety,
Of love, and sublime peacefulness.
I’m home now.
The journey was tough,
The terrain rough and mountains steep.
I climbed steadily,
Sometimes stumbled and fell -
Hurtling, slipping, losing my footing.
At times I lost my grip,
Felt it slip, dropped the ball -
Hurting, grieving, gnawing pain consuming me.
Life all began in innocence
And became tainted by experience.
Forgetting the beginning; the source from whence I came.
Perhaps life is about remembering
What we already knew before we are born.
Our memory wiped we’re thrown into a maze.
We stumble blindly, tempted by materialism.
Educated to make a living, yet not taught how to live.
To take, but never how to give.
Some never make it home.
Destroyed by consumerism, greed and avarice:
Always craving more, hungry for success.
Pause - in this moment -
feel the rise and fall of breath.
Appreciate just being, never fearing death
For it is just like passing
Through a veil, the turning of a page,
Like taking off a tight shoe -
And all that’s left is the essence of you,
Soul flying free, chrysalis shed,
And butterfly once more.
I’m home now
Cocooned in safety and peacefulness.
Love is all there is, and all that’s meant to be.
I’m home now.
Played out by 'My way' Presley not Sinatra, the funeral procession of my estranged father,
I can't say I was sad that my father had died, but the relief when let loose all those
fears I'd hide,
he did some stuff which I like think he felt shame, he played with my childhood like some
hand in a game,
simple as that, did it matter or not? that depended entirely on the amount in the pot!
So now I can tell you all I was too scared to say, how you made me fearful every minute of
each day,
belittled by every word that you spoke, damaged maybe, but not totally broke,
thrown on the streets as a child of five, no coping skills of how to survive, took in by
the police frightend and weak, terrified to answer, afraid to speak,
returned to my Father as a runaway brat, as soon as they left I came under attack,
my one only friend by whom I was honestly loved was taken from me by your hand in black
gloves,
Bonnie my dog was so golden and bright, why drown her in the bath under the darkness of night?
Not done with your evil you were so damn depraved, you then made me bury her in a shallow
grave,
whilst with friends your an angel well known, end of the evening the devil came home,
and the beatings so violent likes a child should not know, and I'd pray every night that
you would just go,
why did you hate me? what was my crime, to be the object of hatred time after time,
well your gone now and buried and your not living in me, I cast you out - Daddy I'm free!
My Forever Stain
I met death very early in my life,
he took my big sister one snowy day;
my mothers scream still echoes like a knife,
broken within- not a word I would say,
and dealt with death by penning my dismay.
Years and years- pages and pages I write,
oh, yes writing into the dark of night;
but I can never ever purge the pain.
All my beloved have left scars out of sight,
and sorrow will be my forever stain.
____________________________
December 12, 2019
Added after contest judged Jan 11, 2020
Poetry/Dizain/My Forever Stain
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1207-307-02
All rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Dizain
sponsor, Lu Loo
First Place
Replication, O photon.
Atmosphere. Molecules.
Phase, like seasons. Here, then gone.
Tools, tremors, toadstools.
Occipital ridge, troll, bridge.
Billy goat, thy horn.
Pestilence, thy name is midge.
Freighter, fain, forlorn.
Lightning bolt, fruit of the gods.
Eat one and become.
Mycelial, goldenrod?
Mushroom, just stay mum.
Sign of salvation, sea-bass?
Shark, set eyes on same.
Liquid legend, O my lass?
Sure. I'm glad you came.
Tympani, crush. Firefly, flee.
Knock thrice, then flit, thrush.
O behemoth, swim thy sea?
Death, you've had a brush.
Enormous or gigantic?
Titan, which to choose?
Oil on surface, stiff or slick?
Flickering fate, fast fuse.
Race, a trace of turkey wild.
In the corn, my child.
Charnel house floor, stains a-tiled?
Ululate, red riled.
Racket, informed packet?
Data, grow in trees.
Weather, wail. Jail, jacket.
Pain, poisonous to please.
Peppered with loss and misfortune,
life's basted in a glaze of fear.
And yet, we’re so immune to pain,
it fails to draw a single tear.
Devastating wars and famine,
fuel the news brought to our door.
Yet, desensitized to torture,
scenes of bloody beheadings bore.
We're used to horrific events
daily bombarding us with hurt.
And our outlook on world affairs,
is steeped in political dirt.
A starving child prompts no response,
nor stirs a compassionate thought.
For death and disease are the norms,
within places that time forgot.
As corruption distorts our views,
empathy turns to apathy.
And lives judged insignificant,
no longer warrant sympathy.
The saying is:
I think,
therefore I am.
So,
if I don't think,
then therefore I am not.
Does this apply,
to the corpse I see,
laid in that casket.
Her hands, tight round nettles,
that carry no flowers or buds,
and make her hands burn and hiss.
But she is not thinking,
so she doesn't feel the pain.
Rather, the flesh,
begins to rot,
off her, and her dress,
is stained with blood.
That dress. The one,
her loved ones picked out
for her.
I'm sure it's a lovely thing,
probably fashioned from a bolt of silk,
and stitched together with care.
But now it is stained,
and no one removed the nettle,
from her hands.
So maybe you should think before you leap,
but don't think to hard,
or else,
before you are even put to rest
the entire thing
has rotted away.
I can tell you of the most infamous thing that happened to me.
It occurred while I was hiding in Sicily.
For persons I should trust, there is always room for doubt.
If offered enough money, that can sell me out.
I loved Apolllonia very much. She was a wonderful wife.
My bodyguard planted a bomb in our car that took her life.
This happened shortly after the death of my brother Santino.
Informers traced the whereabouts of that culprit named Fabrizio.
It was discovered that Fabrizio quickly emigrated away.
He was now dwelling in Brooklyn here in the U.S.A.
I want someone very good to plant a bomb in his car.
When he turns the ignition key, he will not go far.
Based on the novel "The Godfather" by the late Mario Puzo