Long Death of a Poems
Long Death of a Poems. Below are the most popular long Death of a by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Death of a poems by poem length and keyword.
Your words, which seem to be my words,
are but footprints on the fen floor of
the white page, echoes of wand'ring lyric loping.
And if, perhaps, the P's that B have blessed,
they click, they crunch, they sweetly rot underlip.
Tearing words from mind, squeezing through that jealous heartspace.
Tearing follows, wetting page after page, piling into a formless stream.
They clatter upon the mocking whiteness, an array in disarray.
A shattered and graphic mythography, mud clots on tile
after a hike. Why do not my hot words summon Leidenfrost?
I love words, no...I love meaning.
I love meaning, I don't love
the promise of words' bringing of
meaning.
It is National Poetry Month and Shakespeare.
died today.* The first time he died today was
four hundred years ago. I am set to write and read
'publicly' (which spellcheck insists and my heart
does not insist is better writ as 'public ally') some
'poetry' while dancers carve the air, in response to,
in love with, in relation to, hand/heart drawn trees
which have drawn, well-
wishers to wine 'n cheese' 'n chit 'n chat
an opening. A gallery.
But Prince died last night.
The artist formerly known as Prince Rogers Nelson,
and formerly known as a symbol,
and now formerly known as Prince. He died.
The symbol has gone and I don't know what it means.
The words are here behind my teeth, within my fingertips,
astride my heart, tickling that lump in my throat.
It is Earth Day, too. I'm supposed to say some words and make
them meaningful. And make them sing. And ring in the hearts as though
my ditherings are one tine of a tuning fork and the other is the spirits
of those dearly beloved, gathered here. Our coils unshuffled, for in our
sleep of life what dreams may come. But we stand upon, today, both
the funeral's grounds and the corpse to be. The Earth. We are meant
to celebrate her life as she withers. Strangled, starved, and trampled. And I?
I can't.
I just...
cant.
-ShhDragon
*He died today but every day we don't give birth to him with our tongue, on the stages of our heart, he remains a fetid, rotting, beautiful corpse. ’Lo four hundred years ago he died, but every day he isn't summoned, isn't animated, he remains dead. The fact of anniversary is our failing, our repeated failings, to bring forth what might be dead.
Drug Addiction and suicide are no joke.
Some people find it entertaining when those individuals croak.
Recovering and living I've seen both sides
I just wish people could live their lives.
Whether it's a pill, powder, or a needle
This epidemic can be unspeakable.
Whether it's a rope, gun, or a razor.
Society can make you feel crazier.
The addictions and the feelings are real
But unfortunately not everyone can heal
These things are not one bit bias.
Our surroundings are what supply us.
I've lost many to these addictions.
I was lucky enough to leave these conditions.
Ones I've loved and lost I wont forget.
Not helping more is definitely a regret.
There was a boy that was 18yrs old.
His heart not one bit cold.
Always laughing and smiling.
But on the inside he was dying.
He couldn't deal with the pain no more.
He felt it deep inside of his core.
At home he took a gun to his head.
That's where his parents found him dead.
There was a girl that was 22yrs of age.
Always in life she was engaged.
Her huge hugs that held me tight.
It seemed her life was full of light.
But then one day just changed it all.
I guess she felt she couldn't fall.
A needle in her arm led her to an overdose.
Lost yet another one that was so close.
A hard working man 37 and strong.
Always made people fell like they belong.
Family was his always his number one.
He got clean and figured he was done.
But the addiction took over one night.
Unfortunately he couldn't keep the fight.
The needle took him to a new place.
Now our earth cant ever see his face.
Beautiful and young another one.
Always happy and free and we had fun.
We would joke and laugh through the night.
Life had its struggles and that was in sight.
She couldn't continue on no more.
Her insides became way to sore.
She took her own life in a blink of an eye.
Didnt tell anyone she wanted to die.
26 a mother, still young and free.
Always was a happy smile she could see.
She had no fears in the world.
Everything in life must have twirled.
She gave in to her addictions.
She believed in every last conviction.
Her life was taken by an overdose.
There's no set lethal dose.
They dont all end bad, some turn out right.
Some are accidental, others are what's in sight.
But education and understanding is key.
If lowering the count is what we want to see.
It all started as fun like it usually does
Back when she was a great girl who'd always been beautifully loved
Way back before she'd been brutally touched
She goes out weekly and has a few drink like most teens
She doesn't let boys get close, only in their dreams
She goes to university to try and make her future career better
One day she gives in to peer pressure
She's scared when alone, but they don't feel Fear together
Her friends pressure her into popping pills
Now the world is not as real
She's feels high but low at the same time
Trying to think, but is struggling with her mind
She leaves the bar with a strange guy, who spoke kind words
There's no harm in a little flirt
Is what her friends say, but that night he gets her out of her skirt
Takes her home, but never calls back
Her whole confidence, begins to fall flat
Now she's doing lines of cocaine almost daily
Her and her friends haven't spoke lately
She's going off the rails, her friends should be keeping her on track
This is when her whole world starts to turn black
She used to say she'd only give a chance to a man who treats her
But her new man, disrespects and beats her
She knows her time is coming, she doesn't have long left
She keeps taking the wrong steps
Her dreams are broken and faith's lost
Her teeth are rotting and she's had a severe weight loss
We all know how enjoyable sex is
But she doesn't enjoy it, she's sleeping around for her next fix
As long as she gets the drugs she doesn't care about being respected
She's happy to continue destroying the beauty she was blessed with
There's places she doesn't want to visit on her next trip
She's not into small talk or sharing the facts
She's just doing what she can, for her next heroin bag
Her man beats her worse than before, because he finds out she has aids
No new beginning
No happy ending
No chance of winning
She's almost at the end of the chapter on her page
She's never been suicidal
But she's been caught in a vicious cycle
She grabs the knife and cuts until she bleeds
Tears in her eyes, right before her heart no longer beats
I wrote this based off the world we live in, so this girl doesn't exist
But there are plenty of true stories just like this
I wish this had a happy ending, because this girl was meant to set the world alight
But it's a sad story of how drugs ruined a girls life
Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams
Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms;
hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches;
then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain;
for this is welcome shade from the burning sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whom Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there.
My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me
a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse,
a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies
I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords: ancient, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, lament, mourning, funeral, grave, death, death of a friend, dead, bereavement, eulogy, funeral, goodbye, loss
Given as a gift from Germany to Kabul zoo in Afghanistan
No fields to run in - just a miserable enclosed barren land
You were blessed with a beautiful lioness partner, Chucha
She must have made you feel no less than a majestic Shah
You survived against all the invasions, and the bloody wars
Behind those dark miserably cramped closed barring doors
You were a survivor, that against all the cruelly made odds
Was even threaten to be killed, by the unholy Taliban sods
But your loyal keeper fought for your life, using the Quran
With the prophet Muhammad to aid you to all understand
That an animal is to be respected, he also had his own pets
To kill Marjan, would in the end, will leave you with regrets
But you were brought down by an egotistical Mujahedeen
Who you killed for mauling your Chucha for fun it seemed
In turn the killed brother gave you three grenades as a gift
The damage it caused you was more than deserved - swift
You lost your sight in one eye and near all of it in the other
Because of a under deserving revenge of a grieved brother
You lost all of your teeth, with the blast all of your hearing
Yet you survived, to Afghans, you became more endearing
That they took it upon themselves to then kill this very man
For the ignorance of the situation as he did not understand
You had thought this man was a threat to your lioness pride
As it was in the end his own fault he was attacked then died
As the wars in Afghanistan raged so did the famine drought
When it came to food for you there was too little of it about
But the Afghan people gathered in force to see you were fed
No one wanted the Shah Marjan from hunger be found dead
You came through all of this, skin sagging on a frame so lean
But for it all, never did once made you ferocious or be mean
Your beloved keeper walked with you within your enclosure
Despite your injuries you always maintained your composure
Your name travelled the world, and they wished you the best
But after a quarter of a century you then laid yourself to rest
This tribute is to you mera jaan Marjan – the pearl of Afghanistan
May you always with Chucha, fly free, high above this desert land
Higher and higher with the longed for eternal peace may you soar
As the winds carry along with it your once mighty and proudly roar
LIFE'S END
So they think you are old and shouldn't live alone,
maybe you're too frail to be left on your own
Can't manage your own money or live in your own home,
apprehensive you give up and take up the tossed bone
So many years spent taking care of them,
it's your turn they'll tell you and move you right in
Deep inside you hope to turn back the time,
your life's work was them sure it will be just fine
Your full of anticipation life is going to be easier now
Soon feeling like a relic lifted up and knocked down
You have so many stories memories of days passed,
feel like every story told could soon be your last
They have no time to listen they heard it all before,
tell you they'll talk later as they rush through the door
Feeling like a burden wondering what to do,
no one seems to care about the trials you've been through
To them, you're just repeating things already heard,
but if they'd stop to listen your words are not absurd
Everyone keeps talking about the day you will die,
and who gets what & how your property will divide
Not wanting to wait they reach out with dirty hands,
to take what's in reach they can't wait for the end
You start to feel decrepit and feel your life's a sin,
its a bad situation that no one wins in the end
You find yourself weaker something isn't right,
don't talk to old friends feeling like a fright
Every day grows longer you can't wait for the night,
no one even gets it it's such a dismal plight
You sleep and sleep and sleep to escape reality,
your youth is long faded along with vitality
Closing your mind eye reaching for your partner's hand,
but alone in your bed, this was not the master plan
The dream realm is all you see through the haze,
you lift your eyes up & meet your lost love's gaze
But please don't go too soon to that alternate reality,
there are those that still need to hear the words you speak
Stop dwelling on real or perceived infirmities
or without warning, it will drain your remaining vitality
When you think of death or of the dying that they speak,
hold your head up high and breathe life into the scene
Change your attitude don't die it's not a dream
the younger generation you still need to lead
Hold onto your life and sow a precious seed,
life is worth living don't lose it in a dream
Dad lying on the bed; when he saw me, his eyes glinted.
He tried to rise and sit; I extended help and lifted.
He patted on my hand convincingly with affection
Gestured me to sit beside him and showed the direction.
On my way out, half turned and impulsively looked at him.
And I observed his frail hand waving at me through the scrim.
Our eyes met together at once and it was the last sight.
I could never predict that it would be a bitter night.
***
I was helpless; an irrecoverable loss; despair and dungeon filled.
My deep attachment with him made me restless.
I was listening to the slokas of the Gita.
It was from the temple gramophone
One particular sloka echoed in my mind.
It tells that the body is perishable;
The soul can never be destroyed by the elements of the earth.
So it is mere ignorance to lament for which is not eternal.
Yes, death is inevitable.
Regained my spirits and started looking for the better ways
For paying my tribute to him.
My father was the Hero of our family.
During the toughest times, he was the one who showed his exuberance.
Eternal love showered on us that could never be paid off
He was stern and responsible at crucial and decisive times.
He was the man who surrendered his bliss
and tried to trace it out in our fulfilments.
He was always a dependable iconic figure in the team of his co- officials.
I realized that grieving and lamenting won’t make his soul happy.
His ideals are to be observed.
We have to carry them to the generations next to go.
Nothing else can be found better for paying my tributes
The ideal legacy is to be carried out, isn’t it?
Death of a loved one Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Date: 05-04-2023
I went to visit her on the morning of Tuesday, March 14, 2017. Her name was still assigned to her room; so I went inside. There were bags on her bed, but no sign of my friend Beth. I questioned a nurse that was attending another patient, and she directed me to the front desk to make further inquiry. It was at that point I was informed that Beth had passed on.
Beth had departed for heaven, and I was four days late. About three years prior, after being informed by her niece of her whereabouts, I began visiting her. She was 95 when she passed away at the nursing home, having been in very poor health. She had deep longings for heaven.
There were many visits, and I was able to dialogue, sing, or read scripture with her. Although we had met some 30 years prior, she never really knew who I was when I came to visit. Her memory was gradually fading. However, when I came to visit, she always had a great smile, as if to say, "I don't really know him, but I'm loving these visits".
There were memorable visits with her, but none expressed her longings greater than her statement about a twin sister who preceded her in death. I observed a picture on the wall of Beth and her identical twin sister. I told Beth that I could distinguish her from her sister, and did so successfully. She then said in a very strong and serious tone that she was upset with her sister for going to heaven and leaving her here.
A memory barrier existed; the aging process and her health issues were breaking her body down; but I felt that the bond of friendship needed to be honored.
Within moments of being informed of Beth's passing, I was reminded of her comment about her sister and the 'longing' that I knew was so deep inside of her. As I turned and walked away, I quietly whispered, "She got her wish". 03232017cj PS
Death of a Dream
by Amy Swanson
Time
existence
goes by
*long drawn out sigh*
gray transforming
overbearing
the happy
once joyful
exuberant bright cheerful eclectic
becoming shadows
misty vapor
rising to the sky
fleeting...
gone.
Days gone by
weeks
and
months
and
years
motions of life
crowd out
emotions of life
This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...
This is where dreams are born.
This is where dreams die.
Spark of light
soft golden
struggles against
darkened mire
hope's ashes
faith's grief
love's despondence
Marigold hue
charred
sphere of night envelopes
Streaks and smudges
of pride
vanity
selfishness
cruelty
deface life's canvas
once glowing brilliant
-- now torn and tainted.
This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...
This is where dreams are born.
This is where dreams die.
Silence...
utter chaos...
sheer madness
consuming life -
they don't know.
They don't care.
They go about
*busily*
trading dreams
spiritual riches
for material fantasies
built with air.
Colorless
consumes the bright
one small spark
daring dream
chasing burgeoning shadows
until exhausted
extinguished...
no more.
This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...
This is where dreams are born.
This is where dreams die.
A nobody
Scared by the sound of his own voice
Following the girl home from school
In his mind this is normal
Stalking girls
He grabs her jacket
Pulling her backwards unto the ground
Placing a cloth around her nose and mouth
Gagging her until she sleeps for a while
He drags her through the woods
Branches hitting her every which way he turns
Dragging her along until he reaches the cabin
Picking her up over his shoulders opening the door to the cellar
Locking the door behind him he walks down the stairs slowly
He places her on a chair and ties her wrist to the handles
Tying her feet to the legs of the chair
Tightening the rope around her neck to the back of the chair
He undresses her waiting for her to wake up
Several hours pass
She wakes up
Sweating and screaming
Crying and yelling at him
He places duct tape around her mouth
Placing a knife against her stomach
She groans and yelps
He takes the knife away and looks at her
Grabbing her face and telling her shes beautiful
He turns around and stands with his back towards her
As he starts to say
But its the beautiful people that need fixing
He takes the tape off her face and holds her chin tightly
He carves a smile on her face
Cutting her mouth from ear to ear
Telling her
Smile dear it makes you adorable
He grins and sits the knife down
Laughing as she bleeds
She tries to move her mouth
It just drops open
He looks at her smiling
Now that makes you truly beautiful
He leaves her there for a while
Later returning
Placing a needle with a string attached to it
Sticking it into the skin around her mouth that is hanging open
He stitches her back together
Cant make up his mind
He slaps her and leaves her there for another few days
She sits with her eyes peeled wide open
A tear falling as she tries wiggling her hand free from the rope
As she frees her hand she runs her fingers over her stitches
Only to find out her whole mouth has been stitched together
She cant speak
She can only mumble
She frees the rest of her limbs
Trying to stand up and walk but she's to weak and falls
He runs down the stairs
Yelling at her to get up
She doesn't move
He kicks her in the stomach
She doesn't budge
He picks her up and uses her as a puppet
For his own needs
He then buries her beside his other victims
Only to find out shes still alive
Her hand slips through the dirty old mud
5-28-2013