Long Suicide Poems
Long Suicide Poems. Below are the most popular long Suicide by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suicide poems by poem length and keyword.
Past 3 a.m. in the morning,
I stare at this letter in front of me.
Inviting and seducing me
So I just want to read it.
But my heart dictates me not.
How cruel she was.
Left me when I was young,
Did she exactly do what's right?
Or make things even worse?
But my heart dictates me not.
I remember how weak I was.
Without her arms around me
I felt I was terribly helpless inside.
She wanted to say sorry.
But my heart dictates me not.
She came 2 weeks ago,
I was emotionally mixed.
Don’t know exactly what to say.
I just miss her a lot.
But my heart dictates me not.
From fancy clothes of New York,
To lavish perfumes of Germany,
She almost gave everything.
All I want is to be with her.
But my heart dictates me not.
I threw everything on her face.
Telling I hate her that much.
Wish she did not come back.
I just feel sorry for myself.
But my heart dictates me not.
Till I see her tears flowing,
She gave a letter and let me read it.
So then I stare at it till it’s 4 a.m.
It tells me to read it now.
But my heart dictates me not.
But I remember how good she was.
So I open the letter and read it aloud.
Then she said sorry with her lipstick.
Feeling sad and blame myself truly
But my heart dictates me not.
I read the last words and it makes me cry.
She said she loves me but is it just a try?
So she said “Please come to my room baby”.
Just funny and sweet to think…
But my heart dictates me not.
I walk in to her room to say “I’m sorry Mom”.
To be surprised when I see her,
A poison at her side… YES...
She killed herself.
But my heart dictates me not.
I'm not a sinner; by bar-dancing I earn my living,
Pennies of my labor I gather, to God, thanksgiving;
Cloths meager; body a leafless bloom; yet, I have morals,
In feeding the stomachs wait for me, lies all my laurels...
Poverty, like a dark cloud, often my existence shrouds,
I find me standing naked amid hilarious crowds;
They tease me; toss me; tear me; undress me with lusty eyes,
They mock and knock; I bear them hearing within many cries...
Food is what my body needs; and plenty of love and care,
As I do not get them full, my love with others I share;
My old mother and fatherless children are my treasures,
To see them joy brim-filled, I go mad beyond all measures...
The male monsters, that fateful day, clawed me like hungry hawks,
Ready to tear, lust overflowing, like flummoxing fox;
Shouldn't a bar-dancer have rights for her own chastity?
Should her deprivation design her life's dull destiny?
Immorality turned morals; chaos, laws; sinners, saints,
Had I not built my spirit, brick by brick, amid constrains?
I struggled, like virgins of old, praying to the supreme,
Did the flesh-hungry, care to feel, for my heart's endless dream?
Helpless, might be like Maria Goretti, I did find,
The steep passage, like a deep wide, large well, lying vacant;
A self-stricken thud; and a jump; there did end my story,
Suicide - they might laugh - yet to me, it's a victory...!
They might probe and would weave many an awful mystery,
With my mother and children too quiz many a query;
Life for the righteous human beings dawns often the same,
If you are ready to compromise; you could change the game...!
Yet, what's life? What's wealth? What's cozy luminous luxury?
Above the inner truth could one find any theory?
One might find my act, foolish and waste, in this times present,
Yet, isn't meaning in life, more than assets abundant...?
...21-Year-Old Delhi Bar Dancer Falls To Her Death...
14 December 2021
Of course,I read the manual.
Who hasn't?
Words,nothing but words
Until it happens
And then it is burned,branded and imprinted
Graphically and indelibly
Into your brain.
Sleep brings the nightmare alive
Again and again
You witness it over and over
In all its starkness
There's no escape,no way out
You can't stop the bloody train in time
All you can do is spectate
An unwilling and helpless participant
By the time your eyes pick out
The figure poised on the parapet
Vulture like
You are at the point of no return
Slam on the brakes
Jolt the passengers awake
The body in crucifixion mode
Glances off the cabin glass
Pupils dilated and inward looking
Staring within
You stand frozen
Unable to avert your gaze
And then time stands still
Journey and jobs disrupted
Until the gruesome recovery
Is complete
But that frozen snapshot
Haunts my memory
Flashing up
When least expected
My albatross
Seared into my mind
Spitefully roosting
And beyond oblivion
Torturing my soul
And draining
My will to live.
Roman priests practiced divination
as a means of prophesying the future
they'd plunge a dagger into a temple dove
and eviscerate the living bird.
Then they'd examine the entrails,
especially their livers, for omens,
believing that the Gods would reveal what was
going to occur in the immediate future through such signs.
These readings would both bewilder and fascinate the curious
onlookers, when the augurs would raise their scarlet hands
and announce their awaited predictions.
The remaining doves would get released in a whirling mass
forming a vortex of flapping wings and feathers,
their direction of flight
also an indicator of divine communication.
Nobles would often bribe augurs for favorable predictions
to inspire their soldiers before battle.
These divinations were taken very seriously in ancient times.
It's said that Julius Caesar's death was prophesied by augurs,
and Caesar's adversary, Senator Cato, committed suicide
after he received an unfavorable reading.
(Free Verse)
6/16/2018
People are still hurting because of the blow they've been dealt.
Sadly, you decided to end it all by hanging yourself with your belt.
You suffered from Bipolar Disorder and Depression, that wasn't a good combination.
People are very sorry that you died, your death has brought about devastation.
You starred in many movies, Popeye was your very first.
Your death was so horrible, to me it feels like a curse.
In 1991 when you starred in Hook, you portrayed Peter Pan.
Eight years later you starred as a robot in Bicentennial Man.
You entertained us when you portrayed Patch Adams and when you starred in House Of D.
You also astounded us with your performances in MRS. Doubtfire and RV.
Your performances were unique and extraordinary.
They were outstanding, they sure weren't ordinary.
Everybody knows that your acting was a wonderful contribution to mankind.
It will be a long time before your wife, kids and fans can find peace of mind.
[Dedicated to Robin Williams (1951-2014) who died on August 11, 2014.]
Uncooked grains of rice caked our apartment.
Dug themselves into my pliable plantar aspect
I welcomed you from the bottom of my being,
Into my soul,
A friend that made me feel whole.
You dreamt of delicious dishes dancing
In the taste buds of those you loved,
An acid trip of flavors meant for those
Whose love you longed to savor,
But never did.
You died just a kid.
Twenty-one years full of
Unrealized dreams and the
Omnipresent discomfort you felt within.
All the while you smoked away your
Smile that I still picture,
No matter the number of miles
I drive deep between my ankles and
The skyline of Philadelphia.
At your funeral I wondered
Of all those years we could have plundered.
Would you have been the best man at my wedding?
Would we have had a falling out?
Would you have found the woman you loved?
There are many things we could have talked about…
As those loose grains of rice
Free themselves into my footsteps.
I pound the ground into paddies,
And flood the fertile ground
With a deluge of despondent tears.
A future with you was uncertain,
But one without you is full of fears.
I am leaving trail of scattered rice fields
So you can find me again, my dearest friend.
18 years later here I lie
Debating how I want to die
How i want to end my life
To stop the pain, the suffer, the heartache of everyday
A permanent cure to the constant pain, the only piece of consistency in my life
How many times will I do this?
I’d love to sit here and tell you that it won;t happen again
But I can see through the mirror who I am
And who I am, knows that I will do this again
You confuse me
You come into my life as a stranger yet the first person I call on the edge of that bridge
The victim to the texts from a lonely girl who thought the world hated her
Every scar, every close call
Your the one who took the fall
Even when I had given up
I will get back my hope one day
Hope for a romantic love story
I'll just be the chick with a dramatic backstory
10 years from now I will be face to face with a killer
Putting all my past trauma to good use
Hearing their past and their abuse
To what lead them to who they are, what lead them to what they do
But right now these are just impossible dreams
Your my hope
You see me, you see the real me
And knowing you have hope in me and my future, gives me…
You walked a garden path, young heart holding intimate hand
You nurtured hopes of permanence in an impermanent world
Of you loved and belonged, and of you owning and retaining.
Times changed but you didn’t know how
Storms surged but you didn’t know why
Blew the mind, a discarded dry leaf, away.
The garden ravaged and the flowers trodden
You walk now a lonely walk in the garden turned wasteland
The crushed thoughts rising from debris face the void mind
The garden perished but you don’t know why
The life is worthy but you don’t know of what.
The blankness drags collapsed dreams down
To the dark depth of drained life
To the brink of self-annihilation.
To your splintered mind at the edge of hope
I tell search within and discover the inner light
That would show you the existence of purpose
God gave you in this life so beautiful.
No cause is greater no reason better
To leave than to live.
September 6, 2017
Contest : Suicide Prevention Month
Judged on : September 19, 2017.
She cried somber tears with each sad suicide attempt,
delirious due to drunkenness as dying is what she dreamt.
Each catastrophe callus, ungrateful for her creation,
adversity was always her anguish; no aid in alleviation.
Lessoning of love became her lockdown and lamentation,
troubles with temptation became her final tribulation.
Worried was I when she was wistful and full of woe,
unconsolable and unglued taken down by the undertow.
Battered and broken she began to breathe in black,
living life just to make up for the love she did lack.
Her pain was so pitiful so a purple leather bag she did pack,
in her autobiography she wrote anecdotes of addiction’s attack.
She fought the farewell fever not knowing death wouldn’t free,
her melancholic and morose life of mania and misery.
I reminisce and feel regret for the ruby red blood she radiated,
contentedness was never common, coerced by chaos she created.
Sorrowfully stuck, in solitude in sadness she was saturated,
even though she was my hero it was herself she habitually hated.
So I sit here in seclusion and am sentenced to a life of shame…
forgiveness can’t be found when ignited by fear’s forever flame.
March 31, 2018
I sing the songs of childhood
A forgotten time...
Before illusive fantasies of womanhood
Before hearing of the murder of my dreams
By the hand of my lover
Who demands of me
Things I cannot give
Forcing issues of loyalty
Between people I love
And a woman’s heart rends
Behind the curtain
Hidden concern bleeds to death
Overwhelmed
By the accusations
The violent demands
The questioning eyes
Slowly going insane
Wearing my mourning gown of pain
I sing
I dance
I twirl
Ophelia’s songs
Running through my head
Flowers in my hands
I dance
Traipsing towards….
The water’s edge
I wade in
Clothes and all
Looking for my cradle of solace
I lie back
Looking up at the azure sky
Songs of childhood
Of innocence lost
And heartaches won
A bird catches my eye
Soaring free
I stop singing
Slowly tilting my head back
The water covers my forehead
Nestles over my open eyes
Soothing me
Singing its own lullaby
A lullaby of childhood
Of happy times
Welcoming me
I push further back
And let the water
Surge into my open mouth
Through my nostrils
I drink it in
A moment more….
And I’ll be soaring free
I cough out water
Gasping for breath
I hear noises
A young girl crying
“Mama, Mama….breathe!”
A man’s arms are around me
Holding me to the side
Patting me on the back
As I cough out more water…
Spent
I lie back
And look into the sun
Close my eyes
I open my mouth
And sing songs
Songs of my childhood
I hear the young girl cry
I hear the man sigh
I hear the people around whisper
“She’s gone mad”
I sing
I open my eyes to search the sky
For a lone bird
Flying high
Singing….singing
Ophelia’s songs
Till my day turns into night….
For Anne Currin's Suicide Contest
August 2, 2013