Short Corpses Poems
Short Corpses Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Corpses by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Corpses by length and keyword.
most violent war
a marshland for the masses
crocodiles eat
loving their fodder
dragging corpses in water
hiding evidence
hunger gnaws haplessly
harvestless, stark, earthen womb
sparse amniotic fluid
vacant calcified corpses
emphysemic ether blooms
Low slung countenance
Mobile corpses mirror truth
all lies? bouquet of pains gain
creatures we house inside life
makes use of oblivion time.
DEEP-FREEZE ALASKA
corpses in a row
hung on meat hooks in the morgue
until Summer’s thaw
8/30/2017
Hopefully, they don't do this anymore! :0
The decay of corpses is my domain
Abandoned in the dread mountain region
Unrestrainable through fetter and chain
My bread mouldy but my spirit Legion
10-21-12
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Rotted corpses play
As dead trees disintegrate
Lost in their own fog
A song that I long to hear
Is lost in the obscure fear
Crumpled to the ground once again
Overcome by life's despair
Like corpses we lie here
All broken like dolls
Painfully tossed
Shamefully
Ended
Dead
10-12-15
Now we stand on the precipice.
They lie before us in their own blood and corpses
Yet while we stand victorious,
None who were there shall forget the horror of that battle.
Form:
Sweet ladybugs are not so ladylike
When frightened by oldster or a young tike
Squirting yellow liquid that tastes horrible and stinks
Putrid smelling, worse than corpses of six rotting minks.
Gloaming gone, gloom begins;
gabbling ghouls gyrate on
gargoyles, gawping with their
grim glaucous eyes, scaring
gravid girls, gormless boys;
goatish hooves gigue upon
gibbets, grave corpses jig.
Corpses wash up on a distant shore
Crowded train station shelters
Psychological trauma
Personal needs of children
Go begging in the rain
The dream of freedom
Keeps hope alive
How many will survive?
Hypocrisy
is like a thin
layer of scum
on the surface
of an expensive
perfume.
Its foul stench
cancels out
the celestial fragrance,
like that of corpses
that your nightmares
exhume.
Wallowing with worries of yesteryear
Is mowing lawns no longer there
Memory moves us where we yearn -
A universe to which we cannot return –
To exhume corpses of our youth
And reverse adamantine truth
Phantom cities
Buried under chemical smell
Beasts digesting corpses
A Vomitus crush
and a ticket to hell
Griefs and woes
Nobody can spell
Souls out of shell
time to ring the bell
A heartbreaking story to tell
On a robust breeze, the sunset flares
through the ripe peach filtered clouds.
As they extend garish golden glaze
past bleached sands, salted corpses.
Cold crying of sailors washed clean
slipping off the clambering crabs.
Mayday tomorrow,
but the pole has been toppled,
the good earth churned by munitions,
and then seeded with Claymore mines.
There will be no dancing on rubble ruins,
as we bury desecrated corpses,
this year’s harvest will be lean.
Raspy, sexified tones began tightening
Like nooses around my throat
A trail of corpses appeared nonexistent
To millions of natural eyes
Catastrophically I was yet another victim
In the pages of murder that she had composed
She must be found…
Volcanoes dignified this land
barren and deserted
Bound to be an abaddon
scared and agitated
Fed on flesh and corpses
hungry and underfed
Needed more to devour
lustful and crazed
But this lust for blood never ended
when the earth we lived wasn't round
In the bosom of the earth I wept,
Wept like a child of genocide.
And unto its rising back I was laid bare,
Bare like a million corpses…………
Lust and un-fruitful explosions blackened her lips,
With death, lips that where once potent with pure life.
beak
of the plague mask
lest I smell
your rotting bodies
strewn
I smell your crosses
daub your doors
I smell your corpses
pile your carts
I smell your fires
flame your dead
I smell you earth
and weep for you
cried moon
Fifty-thousand stars died last night.
Painting a beautiful picture,
(with an absurd haunting allure)
on an abandoned sandy site.
Swept up in a sharp, vicious storm,
celestial corpses to be found,
their lives absorbed into the ground.
Genocide given an art form.
We watch from afar. We wring our hands
seeing the treachery of our governments
who do nothing, as if it is 1941 again.
UKRAINIAN SPRING
yellow sun blue sky
burning sulfur and flint ash
corpses springing up
4/7/2022
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.
Pale Shroud
A pale moonlit shroud
envelopes garden corpses
silent reverence abides.
Soft breezes rattle
amongst trembling outstretched limbs
crisp farewell of flaming leaves
©9/6/2017
submitted to – Moonlight Delight – poetry contest
Before the Kaiser came
Swallows fed on the wing
Above green meadows
Butterflies danced on the breeze
And birdsong filled the copses
Then the Kaiser came
And no longer did birds sing
Mud filled the meadows
Gunfire echoed on the breeze
And rats fed on the corpses
Form: