Long And death Poems
Long And death Poems. Below are the most popular long And death by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long And death poems by poem length and keyword.
If you choose to end your life
Just know I made the sacrifice
Know that your world is not the only one that will end
I will have to face the world and defend
I can’t believe you would let me live alone
You will forever been the peace zone
While I live in turmoil on this planet
Turning my heart to stone or granite
Your choice to end this pain
Would gut my heart again and again
I’ve seen the suffering everyday
I’ve seen your mind and body go into decay
You would leave my mind in a difficult place
I won’t belong in this world without your grace
For you I see it maybe best
Your body and mind to be at rest
Just know what you would leave behind
Is a broken man, fate already assigned
A destiny already predicted long ago
To be alone with a mind so low
I hope you can rest in peace with mama
When you look down there will be no drama
Just a solitary widow with his dogs
The only ones to work his cogs
I would miss you more than anything
Your departure would leave me grieving
Unable to move on or thrive
It would be a battle to just survive
You are the air that fills my lungs
The one that makes me feel young
The one that fills my heart with love
You made me go beyond and above
You are my forever in life and death
I’ll love you forever beyond your last breath
If you choose this, make sure it’s right for you
It would be too late too review
I’m sorry I wouldn’t be enough to stick around for
I’m sorry that I wasn’t a better person to give you more
I’m sorry that it came down to this
A lowly last prayer for you to dismiss
Go on you poets
who know the heart than brain
go and tell them in humble words.
go on you poets
who know values than cost
go tell them what counts more.
go on you poets
who know beauty and behold that well
go tell them where beauty lies.
go on you poetd
who know love and hatred well
go tell them what is best.
go on you poets
who know the sun and the moon
go tell them who cools more.
go on you poets
who know the dream and the truth
tell them what’s truth in their dreams.
go on you poets
who know the life and death as well
tell them both with sadness and hope
Go on you poets
Who know wisdom and knowledge
Tell them wisely what counts more
Go on you poets
Who know freedom and slavery
Go tell them to free their minds
::
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go tell them till they open their hearts.
that’s your destiny ,mission and love
Sweetened fragrance flowing by the window
Night jasmine jogging, out of loving heart
Pond making sudden sounds of fish splashing
Nutmeg billing its charming fumes thru winds
Pens silence walking in the poet's lands
Midnight moon blowing rainy jewel clone
Mustard flowers calling the calm dawn sun
Your smiling on that field greeting poems
Flying there very near the cloudy breeze
Gold bangles rhyming with the buzzing bees
Dreamless heaven where the lutestring singing
For the earthly fairy coming down words
To recite life and death have enough penned
But nothing is enough till hugging love
26.06.2020 Chattogram
Fall begins with ice in the wind
A light shiver inside and out
As if the summer breeze has sinned
And lost it’s heat to blow about
Cooling your senses with each breath
Fall begins with ice in the wind
Leaves change and fall like life and death
As lushness in the trees has thinned
This chill left me not frowned but grinned
Hints of cool leave me gladly numb
Fall begins with ice in the wind
As I welcome hints of autumn
A season with both warm and cold
As Mother Nature’s wunderkind
Feel it approach as once was told
Fall begins with ice in the wind
Aug 17, 2022
Hints of Autumn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Some are born to carry shadows in their bones—
to know the weight of stones
uninvited visitors throw.
We are soldiers in a war with no front lines,
an army of one
navigating minefields,
exploding bombs inside our minds.
We live in nightmares dressed as ordinary days,
chasing peace through smoke and haze
while hope erodes like shoreline
beneath relentless waves.
The armor we bear is heavier than lead—
each plate hammered from a scar,
each rivet driven through the tender parts
we've learned to guard.
Tears descend in silent streams:
salt trails mapping territories of pain.
Trauma swallows us in waves—
pulling us under, again,
again—
until we learn to breathe
in the spaces between drowning.
Memories cling like winter frost
to window glass,
distorting everything we see.
They haunt the corners where light fails,
cruel melodies on endless repeat:
the songs life demands
we learn by heart.
Do you see me?
I see you—
the same fractured mirror,
the same shattered view.
But still—
In the caverns of my darkest days,
in the marrow-deep ache of surviving,
I find a strange and tender grace:
a gift the light-touched never claim.
This appreciation blooms
in soil where others see only decay—
I notice what they hurry past:
the way dawn breaks on broken things,
how shadows teach the light to dance,
the fierce beauty of a body
that refuses to surrender,
the sacred weight of second chances.
Even as I grow bone-weary,
even as I break and bleed,
I see extraordinary beauty
hidden from those who've never grieved—
The silver veining through the cracks.
The strength in things that bend, not break.
The way the wounded recognize each other
across crowded rooms:
a glance, a nod—
the silent language of survival.
The poetry in what we had to forsake.
This beauty rolls in with the seasons,
then away with winter's breath—
fleeting, precious, sharp as sorrow,
intimate as life and death.
We who carry melancholy
see what joy alone cannot:
the full spectrum of existence,
the terrible beauty we've been taught
by suffering,
by surviving,
by singing through the pain.
We are the ones who know
that breaking open
is how the light gets in—
That the cracks are not the ending
but the place
where we begin.
I came face to face with time
It was all sublime.
Nothing was as it seemed
For I thought “surely it must have been dreamed.”
I was shown the past, present, and future.
Then I heard the words, “are you ready for an adventure?”
As I stood there looking into the face of time
I heard bells begin to chime.
He spoke, “What do you see?”
I see destiny.
As I came face to face
I could see His grace.
There is so much more than meets the eye.
Yes, to sanctify.
But there is so much more,
Not only to restore.
To be set free from sin and death,
But to breathe His breath.
To walk in the elegance of His Bride
And from His Kingdom to preside.
As I stood with time face to face,
I was shown the human race.
From the first to the last,
Seasons went by fast.
What began as perfect and undefiled,
Turned dark as they were beguiled.
Down through the ages,
I heard the voice of sages.
Curtains rose,
And curtains had come to a close.
From the great flood,
To the shedding of His Blood,
There is a sound going out across the land,
That our Father God had planned.
Kings rise and fall
But only one will forever rule them all.
There will be a great division,
Everyone will have to make a decision.
Choose this day whom you will serve,
No one can merely stand and observe.
We are called to fight
And not by sight.
Put on your armor
And don’t listen to the voice of the charmer.
Keep watch and do not slumber,
Be ready to be counted in the number.
In the twinkling of an eye,
We will be caught up into the sky.
We have a supper to attend,
So with the things of God do not pretend.
For those left behind
There will be no place to hide.
As I stood face to face with time,
I saw justice being served for every crime.
Then I turned to look
At all those that had their names written in the Book.
All the tears had been dried,
And we will be with Jesus forever by our side.
© Deborah Seale 2024
True Companions
There’s a finite place
in a life’s ill-defined time,
an Alice-like membrane,
if you will, when
at the instant
of passing through,
presence and absence
co-exist, life and death
are true companions.
I know a thing or two
about this side,
the presence from which
I write of
love and pain,
uncertainty,
insanity,
birthday cake with ice cream,
childhood memories,
bullies,
the touch of my lover.
My-knowing isn’t
all-knowing, of course.
Lives cross and diverge,
only to meet again at
that instant of passing-through,
bringing into question,
what’s on the other side?
Go ask Alice.
I think she’ll know.
It is so hard to say goodbye. The end has come.
I knew it would . . . someday. Such a good cat;
for twelve long years, my Grumpy, always there for me,
wanting a pat, a lap, a snack to make you fat.
I recall our first meeting on a freezing winter day,
cold, unfriendly eyes of a stray, rejected by the world;
alone and afraid, hissing. Slowly a trusting friendship,
and eventually in my arms you were curled.
How can I endure this cruel world without my friend?
But of course, I must go on . . . I imagine you;
in a beautiful garden, lush and green. Sunshine streaming,
bird songs filling the air, and a sky azure blue.
You are busy grooming your shiny brown tabby fur,
amber eyes twinkle, a little pink tongue busy curling;
a paw, a face . . . something catches your attention;
you jump up to swat a passing butterfly whirling.
Rolling in the cool grass, you curl up for a nap,
with a sigh . . . and death came to you like a thief;
till I draw my last breath, I will hold you in my heart,
the price I pay for loving you so much, is grief.
But, I would not change one moment of our time together,
you were a gift from God, to last me all my lifetime;
never to be repeated . . . as you drew your last breath,
I whispered in your ear, till to heaven I climb,
and I placed you in God's loving arms in the meantime . . .
__________________________
Written at sixteen years old
Posted, April 27, 2017
Elegy/In Memory Of Grumpy Cat
Copyright Protected, ID 895903
Juvenilia
Ceclia Hopkins-Drewer
__________________________
"All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small:
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all . . . ."
(Mrs. Cecil Frances Humpreys Alexander, 1848)
Going back to adolescent days...
that invisible angel stood near me,
I prayed and he was more than delighted;
if I fell, he would lift my feeble arms
and avoid any harm done to me:
doesn't God assign angels to each child?
On many winter evenings, mom told me about Jesus
born of humblest origin, what he preached was
a revelation that stunned all: each one of us
was a perfect creation, an image of His Father
sitting on the throne, watching us from afar:
is distance measured in miles or in thoughtfulness?
Invisible as he was, he breathed hard on me
to invigorate awareness of the surroundings
created by a single command, not by hands;
the farther I went, the quicker he followed me:
the narrow paths I travelled to reach those sturdy mountains
were the milestones I have pursued to conquer all adversities!
Do I feel totally betrayed when that invisible angel
refuses to stand near me? Isn't guilt reproving me?
It's time I accused myself of being a sinful individual,
cleared this obsessed mind of carnal desires to avoid Hell;
when transgressions diverge from the holiness of soul,
don't be caught between fear and death: get up and flee!
Blasphemy of course, the blood seekers wailed.
Afraid of her God, Baal, terrified of her tantric sexuality
She was all the things they feared the most.
Assertive, calm, self-pronounced, meditative,
Thoughtful. She would turn the women into thinkers!
She was golden to their pretend silver.
Fear encouraged them to plot her demise and death
She is a jezebel, one who had been rebuffed said,
stirring them up into a frenzy, enjoying their quickness to
follow, without questioning his arrogance or his motives.
Ophelia was sitting under Wisteria, watching a praying mantis,
No concern at all, not realizing their fierce anger towards her
Feeling one with nature, and Baal, she was content.
Even forgiving Hamlet his mistreatment of her.
Her thoughts were of Mt. Zion, and how beautiful
her last visit to Jerusalem had been.
She who had no knowledge of the fierceness
Of feral men who misunderstood her, and were
plotting to throw her over a balcony,
to squelch her beauty, and her beliefs.
She was a danger to them
apparently.