Scythe Poems - Poems about Scythe

If ghosts are real, what have we done? The skeleton inside of me, taste like blood The shadows are speaking to me, like stones in my pockets Told you about my birthday, but you forgot about it In a city of angels, I smell the bonfire smoke Creatures in the woods, wear a dark green cloak Sliced like crops in a...

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Scythe On two, only you And the extravaganza Part implore, wicked lore Every color, to originate Or is it designation Peach to the rot, keys to the lot Untying celestial guesses In the mark of motion horror Some vein in the bull of lurch To a mother in the insect sky Warrant to the chains Such one the pot to the island of a rib And met the...

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A candle is lit in a small dark cave, Upon these walls shadows in EDM rave, Flickering flame kiss cool, damp ambience, Small Sparks fly up igniting silhouette. Laughter, sinful pleasure in danger grave, Misplaced desires, in handcuffs and enslave, Whispers deafening, instantaneous, Extorted dancers to owe reaper’s grim debt. These foolish shadows thinking they are brave, Little is known in darkness as a...

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My somber moments, no one will ever know They're not open images, I choose to show This is my fight to win or lose blow by blow No one else planted these seeds row by row Many claimed to be in my corner but turned to go They brought me their scythe, I reap what I sow Give them no...

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Those that shove past you, glare and scatter, That drive the scares, in your wits and slither, That smile and stare, at things you did master, And then them that you will, lose and move, Or through thicks, care for and pursue. The bearers of the whips of black scythes, Folded in turbulent evils of shaded blythes, That wait in desires of...

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Death you hold a scythe over me i have waited for you there is no trepidation here i am a paucity of patience i welcome you the engine is long tired, hurting parts not available to replace i do not wish to shatter into pieces in some long race to a finish line i wish to leave somewhat sound free of this pain i have...

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Nobody listens to God anymore... even the pontiff has an ear of salt and stone. Cherry cheeked cherubs play frisbee with their halos the masses display sin like a cheap brooch as those four horsemen are surely approaching. Our collective conscience has crumbled to shadow butterfly and finch song crushed by ego ogres. Nobody listens to God anymore~ They've made the creator into...

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I wear a black cloak with hourglass in hand Waiting for the last grain of sand to land And once it does I will collect the soul To lead it near the Chief of Heaven's goal. I'm the last to see your human body Before death arrives in your life's lobby; I hold you as you take your final breath Like long...

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I finally let my breath out, relieved that the scythe had come and passed, only to turn away and fall down the flight of stairs....

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On the days the wind does blow life gets caught up in how things should go and winds gather up the harvest from the field to tow to blow up harvest in good flight it may freely flow but what of those who never know and never feel the warm winds of autumn blow and the scythes will never come home and...

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DEATH NOT BY SCYTHE In fly nightmares a ghoulish figure stands Not with a scythe but a rolled-up newspaper in hand After a frenetic existence of daily work dizzy With visits to trash dumps on schedules busy Some big guy comes near with eyes all a-glint And you end your days covered with newsprint Uncle Reno was...

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Reared and disciplined But never in immortality Confined to repetition Wading through banality Longing for an aura of comfort and peace I run from the reaper, as if I could escape that beast She stalks me adroitly I wait for her steel My sweat is profuse My soul I can feel Warm is her touch Gentle her demeanor Loving her embrace, A beauty if you have seen...

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A candle to light A vigil to reminisce Those that have fallen short...or so they think A hand to hold those that seek closure A sweaty palm to relax anxiety Breathing in expectations of how we know the world sees us Breathing out how it never does I stood beside my brother who was of a different background I whipered in his ear...

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Time shall Bring her scythe To mend the fields of wheat...

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A sigh through silent grass at noon, as knee-high green falls down in tangles. Then again silence....

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