Poetry competition CLOSED 6th February 2020 8:37am
WINNER
Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
View Profile Poems by Jade-Pandora
sheild
RUNNERS-UP: buddhakitty and Underdweller

Go to page:

Death Poems

Sky_dancer
Sky_dancer
A girl has no name
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
22awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 1462

Poetry Contest

Death Poems

Get your Nick Cave on.

Death, the power of it, the force, devastation, relief even, sometimes.

What are your thoughts on death? Maybe write your own obituary.

Rules:

Anarchy


Sky_dancer
Sky_dancer
A girl has no name
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
22awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 1462

Death and Impermanence

We cannot hear the looming bell,
The closing of our book.
Each passing tick, each fleeting tock -
Our final hour is struck.
We cannot bargain, beg or buy
Once death has cast his net.
Your haggling falls upon deaf ears,
No welching from this debt.
On borrowed time, we bubbles float
Like seeds caught on the breeze.
The sands of time run through our grasp.
He'll take us whence he please.
Make haste in May you darling buds;
Squeeze every drop you can.
Waste not the want, your time is short.
Here waits the ferryman.
Written by Sky_dancer (A girl has no name)
Go To Page  


Non entry

Sky_dancer
Sky_dancer
A girl has no name
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
22awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 1462

There is No Death

Your death leaves me with a sense of joy
our chapter has drawn to a close in this life
and you're on your way to the next life
but you lay a path for me
and I will see you again

I have no pain or sadness at your parting
only your body has truly died
and when the bubble bursts
the air inside rejoins with that surrounding air
death is just a change of form

But most of all, I remember the times
we played, and laughed and talked
those echoes in my heart never fade
I'll love you forever
see you again in the next life.
Written by Sky_dancer (A girl has no name)
Go To Page  


Non entry

Underdweller
Underdweller
Socket
Lost Thinker
Bulgaria
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 30th Nov 2019
Forum Posts: 32

Forced Funeral

Go away! Go away!
Disappear! Die!

On the cracked soil in the wasteland,
a savage throng is burying a living stranger,
as if their madness this would cure.

Body beaten, covered in wounds,
with the tongue sliced off,
with broken arms and broken legs,
lies the stranger
and prays all of this
sooner to end.

As though not enough,
the throng is wrapping the stranger into bandage,
from the toes to the head.

Two people from the throng,
staring bloodshed eyes in the victim,
holding tight,
gripping by the wounds,
thrusting fingers into them
and other two are wrapping
the wretched one in bandage.

The stranger’s twisting,
But the bandage’s tight’ning up and up, and up,
it’s now covering his mouth,
after a moment and his eyes.

Now living mummy, living corpse,
the throng’s throwing him in coffin,
louring in the pit, strewing
dried dirt from above.

The throng is in ecstasy,
with savage smiles on the twisted faces.
Could they’ve been afraid,
or the dried land wished to be watered with blood?
Written by Underdweller (Socket)
Go To Page  

snugglebuck
snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States
77awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1864

JOURNEY

JOURNEY
snugglebuck
Go To Page  


Submissions is for the joy of participation.  Not to be considered as an entry for the competition.  

Jade-Pandora
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
147awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5087

Death Waits Only for the Rain

( Prose )    
 
   
The summer’s humidity creeps the simulated sidings of the trailer home that sits in its rental stall on pilings at the below-sea level park near a train trestle towering over a flat, dry riverbed, silhouetted against the naked glare of a full moon.    
   
In times past, long before there was a drought, heavy rains that came annually like clockwork would fill the riverbed with season’s deluge like an El Niño. It would cascade its banks, and had always caught park residents’ children unaware; playing too close with tragic results as the river’s path went on for miles down to the sea.    
   
On this particular night pregnant with fear in the extreme heat of stagnated, swollen air, unable to take on more baggage from what the mercury indicated from the house trailer’s interior; a man and woman were lying uneasy, side by side, on a queen mattress covered with disheveled and flattened gray sheets stained with their sweat, while all of the pillows had been shoved off and were scattered on the floor of a cramped bedroom at the far end of their home dimly lit by moonlight.    
   
Yet now the macramé curtains are closed, and no windows are cracked open, nor is the brass ceiling fan turning.  There were two empty glasses the couple had imbibed from hours ago during a moment toward a promise of lovemaking, no longer swaddled in the glow of the wine’s velour.    
   
He planted a long kiss, and the pain that always mystified them, passed.  Her pale body, almost thin, turned away even though their bodies still touched, pretending to sleep while listening to his forced breathing. Struck with a palsy and trying not to speak.    
   
Alarmed when she moved aside, reaching for the cunning in its metallic feel of cold smallness. She hasn’t noticed his breathing has stopped. The words are halting as his voice breaks,    
"I beg you, not tonight." The bed trembles as he shakes.    
   
She wants to hate him at this moment, but instead;  "Darling, don't speak of the dead."    
   
Then comes a sudden rasp as his throat closes in on itself, "You're not dead yet!"    
   
She turns to face his profile and makes him see as she offers it, then presses it into his clammy hand with a terrible resolve, "I need your help. Consider this a medicine to help me sleep".      
   
He can hardly see as his tears well up. Her eyes glisten as she helps him load only one chamber. She’s distracted how it sounds like rain is beginning to patter on the roof... and never hears him whisper    
   
"Oh God, forgive me..."  
 
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Go To Page  

Jade-Pandora
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
147awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5087

I Measure Every Grief I Meet

 
I measure every Grief I meet  
According to my Log,  
And make a mark when e’er repeat  
To rudder through the fog.  
 
A sexton with a feather’d quill,  
The columns may accord.  
As gentle Keeper of the Will,  
And noted for the Lord.  
 
A thankless task to other men,  
As diggers from the Past.  
But humble servant that I am,  
With Lists of ev’ry caste.  
 
My suit of rags is rent and torn,  
To walk among the Dead.  
Save only for the Mac’ I’ve worn  
That keeps rain off my head.  
 
The honor for the hosts interred  
Millenniums to rot,  
As long as I’ve a feather’d quill,  
They shall not be forgot.  
 
 
 
#
 
A sexton = a person who looks after church grounds, and formerly as a gravedigger.      
 
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Go To Page  


Jade-Pandora
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
147awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5087

Because I Cannot Stop For Death

( a Quatern )
 
Because I cannot stop for Death,
The Host of passage will oblige.
And thus shall quiet take my breath,
In disbelief must I abide.
 
Will I be running for a bus,
Because I cannot stop for Death.
Is there no other way for us,
To keep me from eternal rest?
 
I don’t believe in being blessed,
To have another chance at life.
Because I cannot stop for Death,
That waits to cut me like a knife.
 
The test I’m given will I fail,
I know I haven’t much time left.
If you could only post my bail,
Because I cannot stop for Death.
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Go To Page  


Thetravelingfairy
Thetravelingfairy
Fire of Insight
United States
9awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 12th July 2017
Forum Posts: 133

Righteous Escape

death will knock at your door
it will
it will haunt you like a songbird on your windowsill  
echoing a tune you won’t forget  
yes, death will knock at your door  
so be ready  
will you answer the doorbell?
will you wait?
now and then, the sound grows louder  
as time passes, the urge gets stronger  
aging with a rotting door  
soon to collapse  
the house you live in  
wasn’t built to last  
death will kill your door  
it will  
and so the reckoning begins
to stay alone as the draft sets in
or to run into the arms of darkness  
 
making your righteous escape
Written by Thetravelingfairy
Go To Page  

snugglebuck
snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States
77awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1864

LOVE vs. DEATH

LOVE vs. DEATH
snugglebuck
Go To Page  


This poem is not to be considered for the competition. Submitted for the joy of participation.

AspergerPoet56
AspergerPoet56
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
13awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 4th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 806

I Am Death

I am death
The spirit that eats the living
Reaping the souls
The last remaining breath
Of loved ones cherished ones

I am death
The one that spreads fear
Spreads dread into beating hearts
Darkness is my light
Silence my music

I am death
Feeding on the vulnerable
Choosing without discrimination
I don’t care if you have lived 100 years
Or have never left the womb

I am death
The opposite of what is held dear
Like a dark cloud I hover above life
Like the rain that dampens the summer
I dampen existence

I am death
The whisper through time
The architect of sorrow
I take hope and destroy it
It’s my destiny to take who I want

I am death
I can turn a room cold
With my very presence
I create the void in every heart
Your fate is to know me
Written by AspergerPoet56
Go To Page  

buddhakitty
buddhakitty
Dangerous Mind
8awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Mar 2017
Forum Posts: 25

the history of dust

 

 
 
oh, how foolish  
our youth  
 
swept along unsure  
shorelines by the  
tremulous waves  
of passion  
 
idolatry in the false  
God immortality  
 
believing that what  
is will always be  
 
until that one  
day  
that one terrible  
day  
 
the messenger  
arrives  
and grief gathers,  
a thousand ravens  
cawing and carrying  
sadness on their  
wings  
 
the only truth laid  
open bare before us  
like a lamb sacrificed  
upon an altar  
 
that what is will not  
always be  
 
and our stories are  
written in the history  
of dust
Written by buddhakitty
Go To Page  

slipalong
slipalong
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 391

The new plane (the reaper)

The grim reapers toil
He carries on in peace and war
Whatever span on this mortal coil
His scythe will cut each flower all
 
Looks to what must be renewed
To carve a swathe
No time to stop or brood
The keeness of his blade
 
He takes us all adult and child  
Futility of the beaten chest
The steep forever flailed
Black harvester arrests  
 
Some gone in a blink
Some linger on the brink
Come that shadow cast me thinks
And death in tremor sink
 
The good to heavens utopia
Others face dystopia  
My being fear he may appear
That dark cloud may sever near
 
 Some asking questions
 Some believe faiths deception
Nothingness the destination
Just histology persists
Written by slipalong
Go To Page  

Josh
Josh
Tyrant of Words
Portugal
35awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 2nd Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 741

Jack the Buffalo

Josh
Go To Page  


JACK THE BUFFALO

There was a macho buffalo
with awesome tackle down below,
balls the size of fullest moons
plus muscles pumped to make one swoon
and buffo-Jack enhanced his brand
with lots of studded one-night-stands.

The lady buffalos were fast
to learn his interest didn’t last
and since they were for cert no fools
they hash-me-tooed some different rules
refused his playboy attitude
dismissing it as rude and crude.

The buffalo, severely peeved
decided in a huff to leave …
uh…oh, this choice was not so great
determining the hand of fate —
a hunter spied the handsome beast
and all the neighbours had a feast.

But here’s the rub, without mistakes
how does one learn the real from fake?
One way to look at things I guess
requires a shift in consciousness
where life continues past the grave
in unexpected ‘mazing ways

so holy transformations might
become creation’s final right.
If true then Buffo’s one mistake
transformed him into sacred steak
and up in heaven looking back
he’s finally a happy Jack.



Sky_dancer
Sky_dancer
A girl has no name
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
22awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 1462

I'm so excited, the entries are so bloody good!

Go to page:
Go to: