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Best Poems Written by Avril Hyde

Below are the all-time best Avril Hyde poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Corpses, We'Re Still Counting

We look for responses when we should find an answer
People aren’t healing, just left with a scar
We are divided when we could stand together
Our freedom’s a trap that leads us so far

They all speak of good future
Well said, by a liar
That’s all just a rumor
The earth is on fire

Riches, greedy; shadows a’lurking
Millions of children 
Forcefully working
The world, our home, it’s drowning
The corpses, we’re still counting

National disasters, murder forecasters
The earth could be better without us

We are our own barrier
Those without hope
The disease of death’s carrier
Do all we can to cope

National famine, a crop-barren floor 
Not a single flower
Left any more

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Sleep

Sandy water’s grip
Waves grow icy, salty sting
Forced to the bottom

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Sharpest Peaks, Body But Half Decayed

Coldest mountains, sharpest peaks
Lonely, quiet there does lie
A better end it still seeks
Body under light blue sky

Its corpse has flown far and wide
Glassy eyes and foggy skin
Tumbling through river tide
None are there, no next of kin

The valley has mountain walls
Forever trapped, a ravine
So far down, echoing calls
None can hear his shadow scream

Water cold, it runs solid
Spirit wanders far away
Body kept almost flawless
Tired corpse is here to stay

Freezing water so no decay
Slowly comes the summer melt
Maggots gnaw his hope away
Hardened face begins to welt

Winters coming fast again
Who he was, none can tell
Here a hiker now and then
Body, now, just a symbol

Only few pay respects
Helping others escape his fate
Tourists, with different dialects
Though for him it’s much too late

Till this day the cold has trapped
Valley, his coffin he’s made
In a mountain, quite unmapped
A man, but only half decayed

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Caverns

The drop of water
Natures only noise
Curiosity caught her
Had no other choice 

Hands, trembling
Flashing eyes
Integrity disassembling
Cave, stone skies

Man made, cracking pillars
Holds up uneven rock
The innocent are killers
Ringing sound, a mocking jay mock

Deeper she wades
Heart pounding harder
Light she evades
Evil’s own martyr

Led to die
Born to float
Dead she lie
Maggot’s boat

Her last day,
Far from joyful
Panicked disarray
Remain ever loyal

She won’t be missed
Though remembered 
A death not wished
But terribly rendered

Frozen by winter
Stone can’t catch fire
Burned to a cinder
Flames flicker higher

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Forgotten

Those who wish to be
Forgotten, thrown windy days
Fallen, in the breeze

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Nature

 
The trees grew higher
As she closed her spring green eyes
The clouds fell lower

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Reflection

The glass littered cracks
Foggy dim, wide open eyes
Broken reflection

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The Darkest Waves of the Sea

The darkest waves of the sea
Rock the baby off to sleep
Ice cold arrows in the breeze
Too many, too early, death does reap

Six feet under, there does lie
Its mother’s life it now warps
Beneath a deep- water blue sky
An infant's cold cold corpse

None are left, there to save
So she runs, and quietly hopes
For that same- early grave
Or a gift- of necklace ropes

On another- befaten day
Alone she was cursed, alone she falls
A barren mother far away
Forced to follow her chil’s calls

Her baby’s body laced with tears
Salty water, its reside
Cold dead gaze, cloudy mirrors
Mother’s corpse right beside

Their spirits, though now roaming
Are still trapped beneath the sea
Mother crying, child moaning
They only yearn to be free

Slowly slowly they begin to rise
Maggots, under skin are lurking
Face of horror, light blue eyes
Nature’s cruelty on and working

Far above, the sky shines bright 
Those alive still do play
None have seen the terrible sight
Hoping for eternal day

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A Perfect Page Is Empty

A perfect page is empty
Purposefully left blank
Of lines there are but plenty
Yet no owner there to thank

No pen soils the paper
All thoughts are left unwritten
Left fruitless is much safer
No idea has been litten

The pages slowly yellow
As the ink starts to gray
Nothing there to echo
No reason for delay

The paper curls slowly
As the man picks up a pen
A single phrase left lonely
Without soul, what then?

Details | Avril Hyde Poem

The Spotted Cat

Weighed down by it’s skin
Pelt heavy, it sat.
Loneliness whittled it thin
T’was called the spotted cat

A mistake from long ago
Left it wounded and hurt
Now lives life on the lay low
Blood mixed with the dirt

Its fur was quite matted
Patchy it still was
Skills fallen out of habit
Closed eyes, tired paws.