Short Cadavers Poems
Short Cadavers Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cadavers by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cadavers by length and keyword.
Pandemics don't come with waivers
Pandemics don't exchange favours
From beginning to end
Whether loved one or friend
Pandemics produce cadavers!
She brushed after
every meal
scrubbed every
fruit.
She had copious
concerns
re contamination
but had a blind spot
when she ate cadavers
of animals
deprived of animation
pale rats moving south
an waft of charred cadavers
soldiers drink cider
© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty 20 November 2014 haiku/war
In a coiling maze
mortars fume.
Crimson cadavers
dye the verdant soil.
Poison spears plunge
craters into young flesh.
Scattered moans rise
into the sorrowing air
of deafened canons
and carbon.
No succour or welcome
for the maimed.
Only ghosts
of peace.
Its here again
Why though?
Oh how we wonder
Death is near
A cupidity for creating cadavers
Oh the sorrow and fear
Once again
So many lives
They meet their end
Terror and horror faced
Only to get what
With honor they are graced
Dead are stars
Over foolish things
Comes annoying wars
A snaking mouth sloughs two spines;
the rattle of vertebrae.
A woman learns to ride them, feels
the trombone slide of a dragon’s tail.
A man lifts on tip-toe
not wanting to fumble.
They knit lusts to opening prayers,
cadavers to body bags,
close a gnash of gaping space -
block a cold throat
from an exposed face.
Gathering storm clouds
A feeling of foreboding
Alien house soused.
If it rains all through the night
Cadavers swing through rafters.
Fear II - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Debbie Guzzi
they wept
they crept
but i cradled death unto its first steps and what i loved has fallen with me
to weild a blade are to weild this tale i come before my fears
darker than the sea and the only enmy i see is me
i surrender myself now i can live
death or life is what i choose to give
sever from fears and mortal tears
as you listen to a dead mans tale
Found bloodied and mutilated bodies of
religious extremist murderers
As cadavers they lie beside
unshelled bullets and shells
Now lay dead, frozen with souls taken,
unmoved
Masters,raised them to be butchered,
unspotted
Their kin by birth cursed by the world,
immobilized
Death gives them punishment,sufferings,
impartially
World does not fear them rather they prey
themselves
heart has
always been
a great pump
this I learnt
when I was
in school
but the
truth still
remains
unknown.
I have seen
the hearts
of cadavers
how thick
and cold
their flesh
were
but the
truth
remains - my
heart-throb.
though little
truths do
people know
about heart
yet more and
more of my
heart-throb
I know
but the
truth is -
it's more
than an idol
to me.
I Love you deep then runaway
For the slave child may never lay beside the master
Encase our cadavers within one grave!
So that we may live happily ever after
Thier words pierce sharper than blades.
Branding the letters out on her heart: "NEVER LOVE A SLAVE!"
For the slave child may never love a master
Encase our cadavers in one grave!
That we may live happily ever after
If those buried beneath us
could rise today,
would they run to any patch of sunlight,
make snow angels, heap-up snowmen,
stick blackened bones into white bodies?
Would they fashion a bright face
from tooth stumps and icy eye-sockets?
Sadly I imagine that some,
(the frost-jelled and un-melting),
might return to crumbling factories
or defunct offices,
their briefcases or tool boxes
stuffed with snow
to labor over epitaphs.
My mother says
I’m a blizzard
She also compared me to
a volcano
And a tornado
She said my room was like
a hurricane
And that my closet was
so messy
I might have a few
Cadavers lying around in there
Anyway—the storms?
I noticed they’re all
Massive calamities
Uncontrollable forces of nature
They’re destructive
Haunting—
Almost beautiful
I like that idea:
Being dangerous and beautiful
But I don’t know if that’s exactly what she meant.
I hear the warlocks chanting spells,
And tremble at the sound;
The necromancer starts to spin,
And corpses whirl around.
The naked witches writhe on brooms
As magic potions brew;
Her cackles loud, one blows a kiss,
And tells me, ‘I want you.’
I turn to run, but trip and fall.
Cadavers lick my head;
One worms its tongue into my mouth…
I scream and wake in bed.
I must have fainted with the fright:
A vampire’s in my room tonight.
26th September, for Francine’s Dreams contest