Long Afterlife Poems
Long Afterlife Poems. Below are the most popular long Afterlife by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Afterlife poems by poem length and keyword.
Cobalt stained whispers
dye darkly indigo the iris of my mind
as my dulled lapis essence
drowns in deeper depths of navy -
dragged down by steely emotions
Beyond my grasp
is the ultramarine humility of the Virgin Mary’s robes -
I am lost
to the impure algae of this midnight abyss
Gone is the denim scab that patched my soul -
cast with the spindrift of tiffany dreams --
jaded,
I sink into afterlife
protected by my Egyptian prayers
Susan Ashley
July 14, 2018
(13 shades of blue used)
*Egyptian blue was often used in tomb paintings and funereal objects to protect the dead in their afterlife.* - Source: Wikipedia; Blue
I'm torn between two distant worlds ~
one steeped in wickedness and sin,
the other pure and righteous;
my mind drifts like oil on water.
Alluring is the glory of heaven,
promised if I remain pure and holy,
yet enticing is the frivolity
hidden in jollity they call "sin."
My mind imagines the afterlife the Bible depicts,
yet I savour worldly pleasures my flesh can't resist.
Even when I long to retreat from every sinful street,
my soul burns within with these endless conflicts.
What if the promise is merely a myth,
and I found out that piety robbed me of earthly pity?
Would that not be a loss of two cities –
one paved with gold, the other left cold?
As the flame, on the candle fades away.
The darkness starts to engulf my vision.
I close my eyes, and thoughts of God allay.
I envision the fields of Elysian.
Picturing, a beautiful bright green glade.
And, a lake filled with the bluest water.
Where peace, flows from the breathtaking cascade.
A blessed paradise, need no alter.
A home, for our souls to relax in peace
Where all the hatred and stress will then cease.
While the afterlife roams, joyous all day.
If I make it there, I will pray to stay.
I drift off with these thoughts in an array.
As the flame, on the candle fades away.
5/16/2017
He was an atheist.
He was proud of it.
Those who believed in the existence of a
Supreme being, and in the survival of the soul after death,
Were, for him, dim-witted people worthy only to be
The laughing stock of his "superior intelligence."
He never concealed his denial of God,
He did not need to believe in such a divine being
Because
He knew that himself was the superior being, and
As far as the idea of a soul was concerned, there was none.
One dies and that's it! Game over!
The time passed and as he was mortal he died one day,
However
As soon he was declared dead,
Surprised the atheist was to ''see himself " hovering
All over his inanimate body.
He had no arms, no legs, no head, or any other organs
Just pure consciousness he was, pure thought, and
Pure light.
A sphere of a whitish color " He " was
With some sparkling particles distributed around its periphery.
In other words, he was a soul.
Confused and bewildered with the situation that the atheist,
Himself has now found,
Did not know what to do and what to him was coming.
In a little while though,
A luminous being approached him,
Wearing the broadest of possible smiles.
The being was emanating love, compassion, warmth, and
Understanding.
As the entity came closer to the "atheist" with his mind these
Words to him transmitted:
" Do not be surprised, my dear friend, for I am here to
welcome you and lead you to your creator whose existence
you have throughout life, so vehemently, denied!"*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
09 June 2021
* This story is inspired by a debate that I once had with the head of the Computer Department of a renowned university, who was an atheist and who called me silly to believe in God and in the afterlife. When I asked him: " Why I am silly?" He replied that I was silly because I believed in these theories and went on to tell me that I will be surprised when I die because I will find nothing of what I expect to find. At that moment I retorted: " My dear friend, Nigel, it will not be me that would be surprised but you, because if your theory is correct, I will not be there to be surprised but if my theory is correct then you will be the one to be surprised." He looked at me for a few seconds and then he said: If you put it like that, Demetrios, you are right. I will be the one to be surprised."
Wet August
Umbrella mushrooms;
Bumper harvest
~~~~~~~~~
Cultured frog pond
Fresh amphibious meat;
Gourmet lifestyle
~~~~~~~~~
Chinese seventh month
Hungry ghosts loiter;
Earth-bound vacation
~~~~~~~~~
Chinese customs
Before life, this life,
Afterlife connections
~~~~~~~~~
House by the woods
Solitary presence:
No one comes
~~~~~~~~~
No seasonings
Premium instant noodles;
No time to eat
~~~~~~~~~
Ascendant moon
Brilliant night sky;
Nightingale's lullaby
~~~~~~~~~
Tree house
Island getaway;
New horizons hurl
~~~~~~~~~
Mid-autumn lanterns
Procession of kids;
Misty moon floats
~~~~~~~~~
Faraway glimpses
Brand new stadium dome;
Sporty revelations
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
26 August 2014
Singapore
Pain it's back again
Coursing through each vein
Pain it never leaves
Consuming me for its needs
Pain hangs on me
Theres no where to hide or flee
Pain my bestest friend
Haunting me to no end
Pain emotional physical
It's no luxury or paradisiacal
Pain lies in wait
Pouncing no need for bait
Pain arrives unannounced
Staying for hundreds of rounds
Pain has no relief
Its nothing but a life theif
Pain haunts my life
With destruction and strife
Pain owns my mind and body
With no antidote or antibody
Pain rules my whole life
I just wish I could have the sweet relief of the afterlife.
Jesus Overcomes
Written: by Tom Wright
3/5/2018
In nineteen sixty eight my fields were burning,
A storm was raging, at that time, in my life.
Adversity’s winds had left my thoughts churning,
Foremost was the idea of my pending afterlife.
God used cancer to start my rebirth upgrade,
He whispered my name and I was roused by His voice.
While salvation came free a huge price was paid,
King Jesus is my savior and in Him I’ll rejoice.
Now 50 yrs later the “Widow Maker” He’s averted,
And the things I write serve as His mouthpiece.
In His Love let me always be found tightly girded,
And as day’s wind down, hold to His inner peace.
The afterlife station of poets in curfew time,
giving riches to ponder and to refrain.
Owls keep writing down all in posy found,
while stories of spirits rise from the ground.
Butterflies and Bees bussing the air,
pollinating imagination to the wisdom fare.
Glimmering images in still reply the whole,
where twilight enriches the soul in the soul.
Tempus nostra in spiritus Sanctus ignited,
imperishable wings of love united.
Golden words from the heart in depth,
to see inside the length of breath.
Amidst the lovers in deathless claim,
time in pulse of sensation tame.
The curled Moon wanders in occult position,
for the little rational disposition.
Church bells for the celestial train to arrive,
I got a ticket for the classic sphere to revive.
Cancer
Terror invades every atom of my being
Eyes darting aimlessly
Flickering left to right
Looking for an escape
Praying for an escape
Knowing there is no escape
Cancer
Words carry pain
Words can hurt
But it is not just a word
Its an oily black slinking entity
It’s hunger is massive
It’s appetite eternal
I stand by helpless as this unseen criminal
Steals the future we thought was promised
I watch it devour half of my heart and soul
Masticating our laughter
Guzzling our tears
I am angry
I am enraged
How dare you leave me
How dare you take him from me
By strength of will alone
I want to hold you fiercely
And refuse the afterlife its prize
You look at me
That now familiar weary sadness has settled on your face
Yet for the briefest of moments
Humor twinkles in your hazel eyes
If anybody can do it
It would be you Opie
I smile through a veil of tears
I bury my face into your ravaged chest
And sob
Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe
hunkers down deep amidst disarray
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,
albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely
truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened
erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones
courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death
i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo
beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo
sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,
and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible
battle scars attest
successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!