Long Dead(a) Poems
Long Dead(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Dead(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dead(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
I've only been dead a little while
So I'm not so sure anymore
Seems a bit lonely now
But I can hear everyone's thoughts,
Even yours
Can you hear me?
Because you don't seem to listen well
Now I can see it all
If I want to
Couldn't see much before
All history and what's coming too
But will it mean much to you?
In this realm
There is no special meaning
Nothing new, nothing more
Wandering, wandering
Through every book, every painting,
Every poem, every song,
Every play, every movie,
Every place that's ever been,
Now I'm in everything
One thing I think of now and then
I wonder if I'll wake up again
Good and bad seem a comic blur
Feelings are here but seldom stir
I can tell you everything and nothing too
I guess the final word is nothing too
Little heart, but diamond kind
A heart, just live in the life; in the air, in the sky, in the ground, and the hell’s life
The poor heart is alone, not humankind, the wind of life takes everywhere this heart
Little kind of heart, but a great flower of emotions, like the radiation of the sun’s life
A loving heart, just a living memory of the life, still on, but the pain in the heart of the heart
… kills this little heart; yes. This heart is a living dead, a dead, in the life’s cemetery. A kind
Our world is only an illusion, but so painful – maybe there is no illusion – crying a little heart
Little heart, little heart, just stay a little heart; the rays of your petals are blown further…
… by the wind…, stay always a little diamond heart kind, and teach to the world; love kind
Little heart, little heart, the only heart, remember me, and I give you to God for life; bye…
… bye
The boy stood on the burning deck
arms akimbo legs a'brace
while cannon balls rolled above and beyond
'twas the greatest challenge he had yet to face
as pouring oil on troubled waters
they who only stand and wait also serve
to post o’er ocean without rest
don't receive all they deserve
and crying, “O Captain, my Captain,
an order's sorely needed,
should I stay or should I go?”
but remaining at his position
alas little did he know
Luc-Julien-Joseph Casabianca (1762 – 1798)
his distinguished father lay fallen
extinguished cold and dead a deck or so below
Orient the gallant Gallic flagship of the line
had weather'd every rack and tack
meanwhile the port of Alexandria was near
during the Battle of the Nile
(August 1798)
in the Bay of Aboukir
when Alexander and Swiftsure
the victor ships came in with object won
and the gunpowder magazine exploded
blowing crew and child to kingdom come
tho' Rear-Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson
did all but four of the French fleet destroy
the noblest thing which perished there
was the heart and soul of that young faithful boy
With apologies to; Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793 – 1835)
John Milton (1608 – 1674)
Michael Geoffrey Jones (born 1955)
Walter Whitman Jr. (1819 – 1892)
I’m well ordered with a control center in my mind
so I only act when I hear each action’s whistle.
What! You said I can rent a castle?
Mama! I thought you were dead a decade ago.
I am an incarnated deity and a divine beast
b’cos a tall shining star just asked me to, with it wrestle.
Do buildings now talk or trees walk?
I hear jungle mammals and wild cats rustle.
God! I deserve life’s pity and nature’s bias
b’cos the hands of my abilities are too subtle.
I so much hate the atmosphere of the streets
it is too scary and lacks the necessary hustle.
Then I stay solitary, reserved and conserved
yet my feelings are persecuted with unbearable thistles.
Giving me enough time to read the epistles
written by the demons of character and personality,
so the stupid doctor lied to me.
Murder of the Bethlehem Children
Matthew 2:16-18
When you consider the wealth of love,
Language, fashion and script of cree,
We have in today’s society - stealth dove,
Then you see past societies as plea.
Savage, murderous and passionate,
The governments did not create freespace,
But rather killed kids, women and primate,
Without knowing the boundaries, trace.
“16 When Herod knew the magi had fooled him,
He grew very angry. He sent soldiers to kill,
All the male children in Bethlehem [the dictum]
And in the surrounding territory, [he did till] -
Who were two years old and younger [ok],
According to the time that he had learned,
From the magi. 17 this fulfilled the word [clay],
Spoken through the [prophet] Jeremiah [earned].
...A voice was heard in Raman, weeping [loud],
And much grieving. Rachel weeping for [denounce],
Her children, and she did not want to be [vowed],
Comforted, because they were no more” [announce].
That was Matthew 2:16-18, and the reference,
To Raman was that this name meant ‘advice’,
‘Decision’ and ‘protector’ in Greek, deference,
To top people, the leaders who heard twice.
Rachel is a reference in this New Testament,
To Jacob in the Old Testament, Genesis,
Who chose to partner this beauty ardent,
Not Leah, in line and traditionally epigenesis.
When traditional structures persist, filtered,
Do you supersede and claim, or run away?
Jacob did marry Rachel, but was altered,
Such that their children did toil and fray.
Their affidavit was not heard possibly,
Until Matthew fought the case for rulers,
To be chosen, not birthed, their ability,
‘Cos Leah the older sister was droolers.
Thus, because Jesus was born a gem,
To a line of Jewish worshippers, Torah,
Not to governors, Herod the taxer, hem,
Wanted Jesus dead, a criminal pakora.
There was no reason for this cull, cerberus,
To kill all these babies, kids the citizens,
Absolutely. Morally, no death admonitus,
Is legal. Life is right, and judged ions.
Common English Bible used.
True, Moses wrote of righteousness, one based upon the law.
But Paul proffered an alternate, eschewed the tragic flaw.
Salvation based on works alone: a concept misapplied.
For all, not most, have fallen short; to live thus was to die.
The argument that he put forth: the wage of sin is death.
The proof that all have fallen short: each takes a final breath.
The second Adam changed it all, met on Damascus Road,
His work, reduced to rubbish, trash, and kicks against the goads.
A righteousness that's based on faith asks not who will ascend;
See, Christ has come down to the world, and faith thus comprehends.
And neither does a right faith seek descent to the abyss,
For Christ has risen from the dead, a point some seem to miss.
A right faith knows the word is near, there in your mouth and heart,
Components of a saving grace, the twain shall never part.
For if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is the LORD,
Your heart believes God raised him up, salvation, faith's accord.
For heart's belief is justified, and mouth's confession saved,
And all those who believe in Him are thus no more enslaved.
For there is no distinction now between the Jew or Greek,
For the same Lord is Lord of all, shows grace to all who seek.
But how then will they call on Him in whom they've not believed?
And how shall they believe in Him, when ears have not received?
And how are they supposed to hear, unless someone will preach?
And how are they to preach the word unless they're sent to each?
How beautiful, the feet of those delivering good news!
Not all obey what they have heard, Isaiah thus once mused.
"Lord, who believed what he has heard from us?" the prophet said.
But faith comes through the word of Christ, its hearing raises dead.
Now faith by works indeed is true, a point I must not shirk,
But only faith that's placed in Him, rests in His finished work.
(from Romans 10)
What a World!
By Izunna Okafor
Tears roll down my cheeks
Beholding the palm tree I tapped
From his knowledge of blue ink
With a bow, lofting off a huge gap
What a World !
Our intellectuals have all died
And the vase of wisdom dried up
The siege of our dear unbounded hist
Dusked and whisked away in a rueful tomb.
What a World !
In silence has the nature laid hold
Of the man I cherish so bold
Parting him behind our physical ears
And boiling us in the pot of rueful tears
What a World !
The wave blew aloud like a ruse
Kidnapping attentions as a tale
Only to jail some minds in her rue
Blinking as sorrows in the eyes of men
What a world !
We never expected an untimely departure
But that has reposed our penner in a mellow
For the time of men is tied to the nature
And our tears for the dead a show of sorrow
What a world!
The death has struck deep down our marrow
And incarcerated us to the jail of sorrow
We wail not that he was not old
But beside us lies an empty hole
Who then will satisfy our thirsty souls
What a World!
About the Poet:
Izunna Okafor is a Nigeria novelist, poet, journalist, essayist, publicist, administrator and an Igbo Language Activist who hails from Ebenator in Nnewi South Local Government Area of Anambra State.
He writes both in Igbo and English Languages, and has published enormously in both.
Izunna, a graduate of the Nnamdi Azikiwe University, is a recipient of over twenty literary awards, and has five published books to his credit, in addition to his online publications, which cut across Journalism and Creative Writing.
Contact Details:
Phone Number: 08163938811
E-mail: [email protected]
And Pumpkin Head said ye be dead, a coffin be your bed
Should you fail to sense my zest for all your juices red
’tis not the night that you should fear, but I when I be near
So keep em peeled if snorts and squeals on this dark night you hear
For I be fair, like maiden’s hair and offer half a chance
I travel not in silence as I scheme my lustful dance
For sounds of bats and hungry rats should cause no midnight chill
Unlike my breath through jaws of death; unlike my howl so shrill
So walk head high and nonchalant as though I might be fooled
Others made that same mistake as for their blood I drooled
Your single hope of longer life if this night you’re the one
Is prick em up for every sound and should you hear me… run
And hold your breath for fear of death with each dark door you pass
My cry is but the voice of hell like razor claws on glass
And should your path and mine not cross and you retire to bed
Be thankful that you were not bled by Mr Pumpkin Head
Is life a dream or reality?
Life is a dream, only a tale. Yes.
“Yes. As long as you feel good.”
Said Master Satan. “Looks tales.”
“But you can’t enjoy your life
If you are in the periphery
If your life is in a big chaos.
Am I right?” Asked Master Satan.
Life, life, tell me, tell me your heart
Why don’t you follow mine? Why?
Why? I need your life, oh life. For love
But you are so cruel. Where is your heart?
Tell me! Tell me!! Where is your soul?
Hmm. You don’t have spirit. You are cold
Colder than my open heart, come in
Just come in. You will die. Like an ice
That’s why, that’s the reason for your
For your life, my life. Make for dead
For dead, a beating sharp light. Hmm
Why are you a blade? Sword in my heart?
“Because I want to kill your life.” Said Life.
Do. I can’t lose a life. You are not mine.
“Sorry?? Am I not your life?” Asked Life.
Yes. You are not my life. Go away, Life!
“Go away, Life??” Life asked indignantly.
Yes. Go, go away. Go, Life. Go, monster.
“Am I a monster??” Yes, you are that.
“Why?” Because you take the difference
Difference between lives. Your sword is not
It is not in my killer’s heart. Psychological
You lift the psychology here against
Against God’s flock and creatures
Hmm. Just watch my life. Please
Psychology destroyed my hope, my life
Because psychology rules life
So, there is no natural
So there is no health
So there is no pure
Life
“This is the reality.”
Noted Master Satan
I have no dream
Psychology
Is the reality
Dead
Bodies
No life
Eternal ice
Icy
Morgue
Reality
of
Life
A handful of petals
Scattered through the air
Sent with a smile
Watched with a prayer
Each took a seperate path
Gathering it's own triumphs and trials
Many wilted,many died
Leaving dead a part of life not to be
Friendship so like the petals
So many start, so many there
So many letdowns, so many tears
I've wished upon so many petals
But more are buried beneath the dirt
Buried beneath the tears, buried beneath the hurt
Yet, one still gently drifts in the breeze
One beautiful, fair, graceful
Coming to rest, it begins to bloom
Filling the air with sweet, fragrant perfume
But to no surprise is this fragrance oh so sweet
For all of nature knows
There's nothing sweeter than a rose