Long Cremate Poems
Long Cremate Poems. Below are the most popular long Cremate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cremate poems by poem length and keyword.
Spent my whole life learning how to survive,
Yet never quite learn how to live;
The mountains, the rivers, the wildflowers wait,
With a beauty I fail to receive.
Too short to live, too long to die;
Quite easy to be hurt, too hard to cry.
I can easily surpass violent storms,
Yet fail to fit into these social norms.
I beg of you, set me free, unbind my soul,
Let me write, roam, and sing without a role;
I do not wish to merely spend my days,
Not live a life confined to borrowed ways.
And when I die,
Please don’t cremate me;
Rather bury me in the meadows,
And sow a sunflower seed above me.
And if religion denies it,
Then burn me into ashes;
But please don’t cast me away
Into the vast sea of vain.
Plant me in those same meadows,
So I may return…
As a wildflower once again.
Shew me no leniency, if I wrong you.
Why transfix me if I’m true?
Love is neither a season nor climate that alters
Oh! Love that I see is an ocean that dries not
It’s a melody that two souls become one.
I am, but a cloud in the rain.
Got disappear at a time
So will it be my feelings for you
Don’t say no, don’t stop me
Pardon me if I split your heart.
Now you’ve got your way.
I pray you never stumble!
When you see the sunshine on your head
Dredge up all the good times we share
Tell your lineage of our moment.
I’ve got my way to go.
Where I go is not the place you can be
I’ll take your memories along with me
Thousand flames cannot cremate it
Though, our melody shaken, Will ecstasies your love for me.
This is where black breaks open into bright bleeding feeling
as souls suffer the fire of flesh to enter arena Earth screaming
searching the ether for Adam and Eve's answer to forbidden fever
while angels wear snake skins of war to remember the carnage of this theater
and demons adorn their horns with the rose thorns of newborns,
in the blue garden of aging Eden every breath has a burn, every flame forewarns
denuding knowledge of it's pretenses, unveiling appetites and their prices,
we begin to realize that the Great Mother is a killer as well as a provider for our vices
feeding us the fruits of fortune along with the fate of decay
building our bones, branding the brain, electrifying, crucifying and rectifying our clay,
she communicates, educates and fascinates with looks of lightning and sandy kisses
the Mistress of Lucifer and Christ, she supplies the wood, nails and rain for our wishes,
civilizations rage, rumble and crumble in the judgment of her storms
there's mud and rock for every foot of fury, a cave and castle for all who defy the norms,
in her imperial urn she will cremate your eyes in flames of crude oil
baptise hearts in pools of rose water filtered through eons of soul soil,
her gravity will grind you to the ground where grief grafts prayers from tears,
in the sanskrit of sunrises she will summon songs that give your love ears,
this cradle and cataclysm of her erratic elements is where hearts are born and buried,
Earth, a womb and tomb of ancient bloom, oasis in eternal space where life is carried -
J.A.B.
Never let a person close your eyes,
Stay focus on the situation, no hypnotize
Mind over matter, keep your heart on the line
In the heat of the moment, it’s time to redefine.
The echoes of their laughter, they fade away slow,
But it’s scarier to linger, when it’s time to let go.
Each heartbeat a reminder, each glance like a knife,
When they hold you down, can’t you sense your own life?
So let go of their hand, let them fall, trust the call,
Defeat the meaning when you see them crawl.
Walk away persistent, don’t look back in distress,
Cremate their soul from your heart’s wilderness.
Let ‘em fall, feet by feet, falling under the weight,
Don’t let the pain ripple your body with hate.
Stand tall, look high where the hope resides,
The darkness can only hide the brightness outside.
In the moment of struggle, when you think it’s the night,
Just unlock all the beauty, and let the stars ignite.
You’re crafting your life on the canvas of dreams,
Don’t you pay attention to the tears and the screams.
Forget the past lessons that taught you to bleed,
Build a future with someone, sow your heart’s seed.
In the ashes of yesterday love can be reborn,
With each step forward, feel the pain be shorn.
Release all the chains that bind your soul tight,
The moment has come, embrace the new light.
Realize that your heart is a treasure to keep,
You’ve walked through the battle, now it’s yours to reap.
Show the world that you matter, create a new fate,
With love on the horizon, it’s never too late.
The future will shine, you’ll be free from the fray,
With an open heart, you’ll find a new way.
My soul is my guide.. Rumi
I once adored the warmth
of unreachable desires.
Ascending too high,
I fell from the sky just like Icarus.
Suffering from the flames of fate,
my eyes resembled a million candles
burning tears of wax.
But, I've always been familiar with fire,
as I was born scarred from internal inflames.
It's a blessing when strings of attachment
cremate into ashes.
Love is a vintage gold rose,
an irreversible ideology,
where thorns grow upon petals of pain.
In an autumnal aura, all scents fade,
so I remain in pale blackness -
my sighs as heavy as smokeless tar.
Yet, I know my soul will blossom,
once again with robins in Spring,
as scents of sweet almonds return
with the rebirth of roses without thorns.
In a world of imagination
the colours of love are boundless.
Romance is an opal rainbow over
stormy oceans yearning for turquoise tides.
If my heart was a gem,
it would reflect like a scarlet diamond,
walking upon malachite meadows,
full of ivory orchids with purple lilies,
admiring aquamarine skies,
with hues of amethyst and citrine.
We were all born to sparkle..
Under tones of indigo moonstone
with hints of pink,
my quill will scribble in lilac ink
as love always returns.
Simple Musing.
I owned a funeral parlor and I earned a lot of bread.
I got paid a whole lot of money to cremate the dead.
Each cadaver that I got rid of earned me five hundred grand.
I cremated murder victims and for years I was in high demand.
OJ wanted to hire me.
But he didn't like the million dollar fee.
I always got repeat business from the Mob.
I fried those corpses when I turned the knob.
You'd better believe that when I cremated a body, it was much hotter than a sauna.
I'm extremely surprised that nobody ever wound up hiring me to cremate Madonna.
When I got through burning a corpse, there was never even a trace of evidence.
But the Police broke down my door as I was frying somebody and it was intense.
After being sentenced to fifty years in prison, people nicknamed me 'The Baker'.
If you need to get rid of a corpse, you'll have to call another crooked undertaker.
(This is a fictional poem)
Please don't bury me
By Michelle Morris
12/01/2023
Please don't bury me under that apple tree
So beautiful and abundant
It needs space for life to experience
Its shade and soft mossy feet
Please don't bury me in a grave
Underneath a drab grey headstone
The graveyard is filled with death
So much sadness, loss and guilt
Please don't bury me at sea
Wrapped tightly and heavy to sink
Slowly into murky depths
Where fishes and mermaids swim
For I'd want to swim freely
And enjoy the ocean life down there
In the serene depths
Of beauty and magical mystery
Please don't bury me in a pyramid
In a sarcophagus so grand
Surrounded by luxury and historical artefacts
That mortals will want to find
Please don't float me away
And set the boat on fire
For those flames will burn so high
That my soul may be trapped in the pyre
Rather cremate me and scatter my ashes
Over verdant hills and ocean blue
So that I will enjoy them and fly free
Up to the heavens above
This way I experience all life at once
Even though it's the little of me that remains
But at least I'll be part of everything
That might imprint beautiful memories on my soul
© Michelle Morris, 2023
“It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.”
David Levithan
I will forever be as pure
as white virgin fibres,
in your onyx
field of ravens.
When the
star-crossed
silhouette of
bleeding ink,
ricochets like
vindictive arrows,
within your
hollow walls,
quenched with
muted echoes,
I am reminded of
your ebony eyes,
cradled under
black decomposing flesh.
I shove my
misunderstood identity
into a pocket journal,
embalmed with a
fragrance of peace lilies
and rhapsodical prose,
amidst doleful dusks
painted with
past mistakes
hidden beneath
narratives of sinful
tangerine nights.
But, remember
that your fallacious
name is an
erased footnote
in the history of
relentless runes.
My tormented tongue
has become
immune to
your false screams.
There is no need
for close-fisted
fingers to flip
through pages,
of the story
I left behind,
as visions of
venomous verses
cremate into
ashes in my mind-
as mere memories
of monologues from
ice cold monsoons,
which don’t define me.
I’ve sculpted fragile
paper boats and
watched them ferry my
demons,
floating on daisies
in a ravishing rivulet
of truth and tranquility,
whilst you chase
impassioned imprints
within chapters
written in patterns
of insincere phrases.
I am a survivor of
your storm,
drawing dreams in
drowsy darkness,
blooming my
amethyst artistry,
which vibrantly
beats to burgundy
evolutions of a
blossoming flower,
who's scent you
will never savor.
My petals
may be fragile,
but I refuse to remain
prisoned in toxic
traits of a
weathered wildflower -
I only attract
majestic butterflies.
when i pass
i will linger on in a few memories
a few nanoseconds in man's history
place no stone above me
with some name easily forgotten
never bury me in the earth
in some hollowed-out cavity
waiting for some delusional day
when cemeteries reach some prophecy
looking like a Wack-A-Mole celebration
cremate me and scatter the ashes
in some pleasant meadow
where i may luxuriate in bathing
in the Bose-Einstein condensation
as the sun rises with the solar wind
perchance an ash lights upon a blossom
a bee gathers pollen
i cling to its toil and escape in flight
hither and dither on the hives path
let me spend a full moon
in silvery shadows that dance
amidst the mockingbirds' song of the night
or rejoice in a tempest roaring
as the trees dance in God's metronome
His power dancing across the sky
in a glorious burst of light
please a meadow of promised halcyon days
where the mortal is scattered in gratitude
of what was so miraculous
to touch, to see, to taste, to smell
blessed with the senses
yet the grandest of them all
for i was given an entitlement
graced with the gift to love
in that first breath was my eternity
when the sun runs dry and expands
all have perished at Jupiter's gates
let my mortal existence return
from which it sprang
the fruition of that breath is home
where space and time harbor no path
where it was commanded
let there be light
OKC 9/22
Acceptance equals survival
Survival equals safety
Comfort equals invisibility
And invisibility is vital
For us to live a somewhat peaceful life
'Somewhat' because they even kill us in silence
They even kill us despite our compliance
When they see us we are greeted with violence
There is a method to the existence of being black
A formula so we don't go extinct
An unwritten rule of safety
A scientific mathematical equation to stay alive
One we shouldn't have to know
One we shouldn't have to know and follow
The rules of surviving being black
The fact that we don't even get a say on that
They were just handed to us never looking back
Never asking how we felt about that
Being given a rulebook
Thinking it was for all children
But realising the non black kids had none
They didn't have to learn how to 'be' when they were young
And once you as a black person has realised this
It's to late, for a wound would forever exist
Your innocence stolen from a world full of racists
All because of our skin
From birth to death
We are seen as a sin
Their ignorance asks for an exorcist
They think it will help to remove our blackness
To send it to hells fiery pits
So they can cremate and turn them into ashes
Because to them we are worse than evil
Which is ironic since they are our killers
But they are the real devil's
Even lucifer is not as sadistic as them
For us hell would be heaven to us
For we already have had a taste of it
When living on earth is punishment enough
When it already feels like an eternity of torment