Long Life and death Poems
Long Life and death Poems. Below are the most popular long Life and death by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Life and death poems by poem length and keyword.
In chambers of memory, a great vessel rides,
Not steel, nor steam, but spectral, she presides.
A gilded cage, a promise bravely sold,
In every polished plank, a story is foretold.
She is a fragile vase of human grace and pride,
On dark and silent seas, where our illusions hide.
Each passenger, a hope, a fear, a dream in tow,
A gallery of souls, the high and the low.
The Captain is a hand upon the clock’s cold face,
Demanding speed, though time runs out of space.
The rich man is a vault, his wealth a heavy key,
Ignoring the deep warnings of the coming sea.
The third-class stoker, just a single, vital breath,
Unseen, unheard, the engine of life and death.
The iceberg is the Truth, inevitable and vast,
The quiet, crushing weight of choices in the past.
It does not hate, it simply is, a fact so stark and cold,
That shatters the fragile myths the builders had been told.
The moment of the strike, a tremor, then a sound,
The crack of certainty, where no fault was found.
The decks become a stage, a drama stark and clear,
As the ship of our conceit is conquered by our fear.
The band plays on—denial’s lovely, fading tune,
A brave, sweet song beneath a pitiless, dark moon.
Lifeboats, opportunities, are launched with space to spare,
A cruel economy of panic and despair.
And as the bow descends, a final, gasping plea,
The vase is tipped, the waters rush in free.
The decks go vertical, the social order breaks,
The cold, black water claims what the deep ocean takes.
The metaphor goes down, a legend to the core,
A night the soul remembers, forevermore.
I dreamed Christmas in the skies,
puffy clouds with images of good tidings.
Better than plum pudding surprise,
the nativity - God with us abiding.
Perhaps this was the Christmas star,
a close-up, magnification, of its sight.
Wise men on bumpy camels from afar.
Shepherds heralded by angelic light.
The key, to life and death, in a manger.
Surely his eyes’ bright and smile’s sweet.
His nemesis, the devil, friends with danger.
This Babe will divide the tares from the wheat.
I dreamed Christmas in the snowy clouds.
The gift of heaven to a child filled with wonder.
I rode on a fantastical sleigh and sighed aloud,
awestruck as the star Jesus sleeps under.
12/19/2021
R-ound trip travel teaches
U-s about life's reality;
B-eginning of a tour
E-nds where it started originally.
L-ife is a round trip travel,
Y-es, take-off is also arrival;
N-o liner shall not return to its own same terminal.
B-irth is the initial passage,
A-cross the sea of struggle;
L-ong or short cruising
I-s either turbulent or well.
D-ay twenty-two in July,
O-ne trek began from home;
Y-our expedition is certain even though you still roam.
C-rossing a specific border
A-nticipates similar destiny;
B-etween life and death,
R-ead as back and forth journey.
E-nd or final destination
R-eminds one so well;
O-nce you start a voyage,
S-ail a safe round trip travel.
Valley of death is a walk we all go on, we take each step in life, moving closer to death.
Death is like life, it has a beginning and both are part of our life.
Life and death, are points that connect, like a stream moving toward the ocean.
Our life is a walk that we take and can pick many paths, paths of light and of dark.
Walking through the valley of death, means that we are in a place of much death, that some do not make it to the light, they stay forever in the dark.
Life’s walk-through life, can be one filled with delight, so walk in the light and pick the path that lights your heart and brings you to God and to all that is right.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
LIFE AND DEATH
Life to love, to work and to get established,
Greatest gift of God to parents is child.
Good news delivered to all.
Peerless pleasure flooded.
Then to raise up, care the dear
cute loving little angel,
kindling the birthday candle,
watching to grow every year.
Childhood, adulthood
Struggle to exist, to survive:
Success or failure
seems absolute fruitless to
face inevitable death
leaving no trace.
09/09/16
Edited on 03/ 09/20
'Completely Your Choice (3) ' Contest by Brian Strand.
Happy birthday wishes to Susan Lawrence today (29 Jan) - may your day be as beautiful and uplifting as your poetry and art.
Above a plain a mountain rises
on it grows a forest green -
within that wood there stands a pine
a talisman of growth unseen
Upon its branch there grows a cone
inside that pinecone dwells a seed -
within its womb a prophecy
of birth and life: a family tree
Through glorious forest sails a wind,
an avatar of cleansing breath-
dispersing smoke, transporting rain
to nourish life and stave off death
On restless wind there soars a lark,
within its breast there dwells a song -
a tune set free from gravity
a song of flight and liberty
Above the wind ascends the sun,
its trek through space of lavish worth
delivering on thermal wave
a warmth that warrants life on earth
Warmed by the sun's rays lies a shore
with breakers polishing a shell -
when held up to attentive ear
sounds like the sea - it calls to home
And from the mountain's summit soars
an eagle, keen with sharpened eye -
sees all creation in its lays:
so magical yet ordinary
infinite yet temporary
the majesty of growth and birth
of harmony throughout the earth:
of nourishment and unity,
of life and death and liberty,
of home and warmth and family.
That eagle is the artist
with a poet's far-reaching vision
And she carries on her wings a message
to heal mankind of all division
Critical tendencies and agitated mind,
misread beginnings to like all in kind.
Air of the heaven and sensation in prime,
force of life and death at the same time.
Devotion aroused giving all for nothing,
which reality turns perception touching.
Endurance crowns goodness with beauty,
possessor through holiness of duty.
Conscious unity with the ultimate provider,
life’s culmination and transcendent rider.
Natures reach for no conventionality,
proofing in tune thinking ability.
Belief’s conception via faith’s conviction,
political metaphor for egos addiction.
Liberty of faith and only integrity,
impossible current of all mystery.
Animals remarkably deal with life and death situations.
They seem to have this unique ability to quickly move on,
and perhaps we could all learn a lesson from them.
When you get down to it, you only really have two options.
You can medically and emotionally surrender to your cancer problem,
or like an animal, you fight like hell and continue surviving.
Cancer is just a word, it isn't a sentence.
In your battle keep telling yourself this over and over again.
Never Give Up! Never Stop Fighting!
Look at cancer as your prey and not you as cancer's victim,
and before you know it you'll bring cancer to its well deserved end.
In the waking arms of Spring, a gentle whisper flows,
Where petals dance with breezy tunes, and vibrant life bestows.
Buds unfurl their verdant wings, in a delicate embrace,
Kissing the world with tender hues, a rejuvenating grace.
Underneath the Summer’s gaze, a sultry whisper warms,
Where fields of gold sway freely, beneath the sun that swarms.
The melody of cicadas hums, through the endless azure skies,
While flavors of the fruitful boughs, in sweet repose, lies.
Within the folds of Autumn, a crisp whisper swirls,
Where leaves cascade in fiery array, as the wind unfurls.
Harvest moon bathes the land, in a golden, glowing sheen,
Whilst creatures frolic, store, and nest, amidst the amber scene.
Beneath the quilt of Winter, a hushed whisper chills,
Where snowflakes grace the slumbering earth, and time seemingly stills.
Bare branches etch against the grey, a monochrome ballet,
As fireside tales and warmth entwine, keeping cold at bay.
Through cycles of the whispered tales, nature sings aloud,
A symphony of life and death, in every leaf endowed.
Eternal is the melody, of seasons wax and wane,
A testament to resilience, through sun, wind, and rain.
Nature spins her stories, in the threads of time so dear,
A tapestry of moments, crafted year by passing year.
In every changing season, may we find a reason new,
To stand in awe, appreciate, and cherish every view.
Before the dawn of breath or bone, you were atoms adrift in the cosmic sea—carbon spun from dying stars, iron forged in ancient suns.
You were scattered light, forgotten dust, waiting in silence for chemistry’s kiss, until the Earth took you in her arms, and whispered: become.
Life—an emergent melody, born of order from the chaos’ hum, a fleeting pattern in entropy’s tide, glimmering bright, then fading again.
At death, the pattern breaks apart, not an end, but a transformation—the body yields to the soil, the sky, the atoms return to their cosmic roam.
Some dream of heavens and fiery hells, sculpted from hope, or fear of void—for the unknown stirs unease in minds that crave a story with meaning’s chord.
But nature’s truth is not cruel or kind, it simply is—a wondrous weave, where every death seeds new beginnings, and every star births future hearts.
So fear not the dark—it is the same vast cradle that once made you whole; you are the universe, and shall return home.
To that ether mist before we were born.