Short Wake The Dead Poems
Short Wake The Dead Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Wake The Dead by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Wake The Dead by length and keyword.
The demons scream inside my head
Trying to wake the dead,
But the dead cannot hear
For they have eyes, but no ears.
Their voices vibrate in the air
Blending to become a nightmare,
A nightmare of dark desires
That flare up, like a fire.
Scream,scream,scream,scream,scream,
I wish this was all just a bad dream,
The echoes pound in my head
And I'm afraid they might wake the dead.
Form:
SPOOOOKEEEE
Lost in the woods
On All Saints Night
Chill in my blood
Moon’s a fright
Its ring around
Is red as hell
And distantly
The doomsday bells
Eerie bongs
Tis truly said
One short two long
Will wake the dead
Hark those strains
The dies irae
Tell of pains
On judgment day
Oh where to go?
At last I fear
The rooster crow
No more I’ll hear
Dave Austin
An early morning run across a misty lake
comes in, fades out of view with every stroke I take.
With pace that ebbs and flows from tunes within my head,
I hope the rhythmic rowing will not wake the dead.
I try to focus on the things that Austin taught,
but mostly, in the moment, I’m enraptured, caught
up in this misty morning ‘cross unknown expanse;
time and distance slip away in other-wordly trance…
Now I lay me down to sleep
With tired back
And achy feet.
Today I've been to Hell and back
And still can't seem to hit the sack.
Problems, problems in my head
Heart pounds loud enough
To wake the dead.
House is silent as a tomb
All around is doom and gloom.
Feel so alone at this late hour
Oh God, if it be within your power
Please let me sleep for one good hour.
Josette Davis Key 2014
Oozing greens,
Dressed-up teens,
Headless people, there are few,
Witches on broomsticks, what are you?
Knock on the door,
Candy galore!
Every kind,
And then some more!
You might wake the dead,
They might steal your head,
Fodders, Ghouls, Goblins, and Ghosts,
Mess with them and you'll be toast!
Get to bed,
Before the dead,
Stay inside,
where you can hide,
And don't be seen,
On Halloween...
Form:
They danced in circles spinning round,
And moved so fast they seemed to fly,
Their feet could hardly touch the ground.
As folk collapsed I thought they’d die;
But others kept on whirling by.
I thought they’d dance throughout the night,
Their faces painted, dressed in white.
The chants and cries could wake the dead.
A whir of people - what a sight !
And then they stopped. ‘I flew,’ one said.
Jack Horne for Nette’s Let’s Dance contest
Silent is the night
as the demon awakes
from his restless sleep
cursed of love and ridiculed of hate
he crawls on the floor of the earth
weeping the sorrows of the lost souls
choking back the tears that don't fall
with the screams of salvation from the innocent
its his beauty they don't call
the meek will inherit the grounds we walk
by turning the other face to face
as he howls to wake the dead
and march on our tormentors
and their very lost souls ...
Brooke Dylan