Death Sonnet Poems | Examples
These Death Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Death. These are the best examples of Sonnet Death poems written by international poets.
When love's chalice brims with passion's pain
from crooked hands now clenched within your mind
its wormwood draught is less the bile that stains
you spilled to cleanse the earthen floor of time
the rapture of this life now cleans my soul
as it bleeds deep in darker realms of shade
you drove the knife that cut the rose once whole
release my suffering heart as death persuades
this flower keeps no breath within its bloom
now drifting dark beneath the setting sun
flee from this world whose shadows I consume
as my heart dies, its death already done
a crumbled love lies dead inside my heart
buried beneath the lies as you depart
I want no further thoughts of woods each day.
I hold all found and lost on one same eve.
The pangs of loss in memories replay.
From morn to night my heart does steady grieve.
As velvet satin she did clothe my soul.
Each spark in our embrace held love’s best ache.
That she did lay in leaves with me was scroll
My yearning heart had inked for loving’s sake.
In leaves we wove as two inside one dream.
Our passion rose beyond all we had guessed.
The bear I did not see before her scream.
I fought but dead in leaves she lay undressed.
Always red leaves amass around that bear;
Awake or not that view is my despair.
I'd rather fall at the hands of nature—
endure the whiplash from changing seasons,
be ransacked in storms erasing verdure
but not by crude loggers or their reasons.
In time to come, I might be metallic,
slip from imagination, unreal!
What is wood, this leaf, but an italic?
Who will append me to the holy grail,
will to elegize my lost symmetry?
Today has already begun with breeze
lilting foliage; fluttered melody,
transporting berries, bewitching degrees.
A caterpillar licks my face away,
and a worm is canceled by a blue jay.
Our heart’s intent is by mind translated,
though the tremors are too subtle to catch,
which by resonance is yet created,
as the koel’s coo symbols try to match.
Endless beginnings and endings renewed,
metamorphose whist we are in repose,
enlivening time dissolved solitude,
exuding fragrance of love’s home grown rose.
Shifting to feeling by ceasing thinking,
soul alone knows how soma nectar flows,
so poised thus as awareness unblinking,
we but depict how bliss magnetism grows.
Listen to the sound of a leaf falling ~
What in death do we find so enthralling
I find myself upon the woodland’s floor.
Adrift am I each time wind starts to blow.
My brothers and my sisters are no more.
How long I’ve wandered I don’t even know!
I yearn for days of warmth when all was green
and birdsong filled the air. I miss my home.
I feel wind’s fury as I now careen.
My fate I dread. Oh, how long must I roam?
My color that changed crimson has grown dim.
Has God a care for me? I've withered small.
The cold comes creeping and the sky’s gone grim.
I tremble, sorrowing to see snow fall.
If verdant bliss awaits each dying tree,
what of its leaves? May snow come bury me.
Now torn from out the home I’ve ever known,
Propelled by unseen winds to stray away,
The chilling rain that bathes my form is shown
By moonlight in this dance of swift decay.
I twist and turn as tender veins now tear,
Impelled by gales that push me to the dark;
My frantic tumble plunges down to bear
With sudden force against this rugged bark.
Yet, resting in this comforting domain,
I bow, amazed to know the sun will rise;
A deeper life shall bless the soil again,
Where quiet roots ignore the stormy skies.
Held fast within the forest’s cool embrace,
I fade into the shadows of this place.
"Note: AI image generated to complement the themes of my original poem."
A backwash of death and body's decay,
The soul—once dwelt within me—is no more.
In life-death script's passably long play,
I could not—I don't know why—reach the shore.
I lie naked now with many others,
Forgetting caste, colour, creed, polity;
Confronting all weather with no druthers,
Pushed towards a preset equality.
Isn't there, in my core, an inner strength?
There's a truth of perseverance of life;
There is, in me, an endless breadth and length
Of forgone pains of existential strife.
Am I the monarch of this breathless deep,
Or just a puppet death has put to sleep?
While walking in the woods, I saw it fall-
swaying, and tumbling softly through the air.
There from its branch, the maple tree so tall
and lush, of its descent, seemed unaware.
Upon the ground, it lay pristine and green.
It's summer, and it should have stayed alive.
Alone, no others round it could be seen.
Seems so unfair it lost its chance to thrive.
Perhaps there is no reason to explain
why this sole bud let go its grip to stay.
Though just a leaf, it mirrors the same pain
that stings, as death's poor timing will dismay.
Oh yes, at times life's journeys are unfair-
that halt young life for death to earn its share.
If my despair can sink ships like a storm,
and my shores are consumed by tidal gloom,
like apples spoiled by a devouring worm,
where rot and mind's decay lead to my doom,
then its poison prevents me from relief
and cure—and the escape from manic death!
This weight of sorrow crushes out my life,
and drains from my lungs God's life-giving breath.
But thou, sweet Rose, restore my soul and joy.
(Grant me your healing grace, your balm, your light.)
If fate grants me one more thing to enjoy,
it is your hand that holds me through the night.
Though life's despair may never quite depart,
I live because you hold me in your heart.
The darkened clouds o’erhead obscure the light;
the nausea in waves devours all joy.
She whimpers as she fades within my sight;
against this foe I am a helpless boy.
Deep in my heart I know she gains the day,
For You on her behalf have long since won.
But still it wounds to see the potter’s clay
misshapen so, both she and I undone.
Beyond the rise, her vale does softly call
So verdant green, so marvelous its light.
Not long, my dear, held cruel in cancer’s thrall
Soon, soon, my love, you’ll have no need to fight.
What lies ahead would fill me with despair
were I not sure she’s nestled in Your care.
At times, it does not feel sustainable,
but that’s the liar’s whisper in our ear.
for none of this would be obtainable
but for Your constant, loving presence here.
And so be off, deceiver, run along.
Perhaps you’ll find a time more opportune,
but know her Guardian is fierce and strong;
your wiles cannot His character impugn.
So cherishing the time which does remain,
we shall arise each morn to meet the day,
place trust in plans You sovereignly ordain
and bolstered by Your Spirit, joyful say:
“Come, Maranatha, Come”, with bated breath,
her bridegroom and her victor over death.
“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”
— Thomas Gray, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
Well known or not, we write our poetry
Our inner souls reflected in our ink
Also influenced by our family tree
We every now and then cause some to think
The years pass by and then away we go
Well known are some, but others not so much
‘Tis easier to honor those we know
While unknowns by the wayside fall as such
Each unknown poet lived a real life too
Their love of verse sprang from their dear hearts’ wells
Their memory forgotten, but still true
For remembrance and respect we ring the bells
This tribute to an unknown poet’s life
Shows that we care and mitigates our strife
Midnight draped darkness around like a shroud
The silence though was like stone on air
'Twas paused by ambulance's weighted cloud
Our vows once spoken, now beyond despair
Now night seems to press in upon my hand
Shadows fill corners of my old worn mind
Then a spark springs forth that needs to be fanned
That tiny light spark knows hope I'll soon find
Once buried seed dreams of spring's sun warm glow
Deep within, silent faith endures long, strong
My hope and faith are not fragile, but flow
Whisper, come forth let your love go in song
Dark that enshrouded me release today
My heart has some hope and will find a way
Fair lady, look down, see me in this hole,
beaten by a creature to be dreaded,
this ill-made, unsightly, disfigured, troll,
conquered by a monster many-headed.
The moment mother screamed and I was born,
the beast's heads stared upon me filled with hate.
I pared an ugly one that was called scorn,
and left home when I could to meet my fate.
Looming precariously from above,
the brute left me here in my final hour,
delivering dire blows - first pain, then love.
Dear lady, please place a futile flower
as I bid farewell to the woe and strife,
and the monster, now dead, but once called life.
So long ago you left my perfect world.
You were fifty-five- I was thirty-two.
My broken heart that day became unfurled!
How could this ever happen, losing you?
Dear Mom, I've missed you by my side each day.
It's been so many years since you've been gone.
You never saw your grandkids grow to say
that they have grandkids too to love and fawn.
Yet, through these years, you often came to me-
I felt you by my side so many times.
Your spirit up above, so hopefully,
enfolds me in your arms, to see the signs.
In time, I will find you beyond the stars!
Reborn togetherness will then be ours.