Poetry competition CLOSED 6th February 2020 8:37am
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Death Poems

poet Anonymous

Funeral Song

Flowers mingle with mortal dust,
meet on stale bones--
lonely crooning;
an evening's intoxicated courtship;
sweet hollow hymns headed for morning.
poet Anonymous

Devilís Scorn

My darkness was born
With the devil's scorn
Filled with desire †
It's passion was fueled by dire

I live all alone in a field of stone
Beyond these gates my spirit roam
Searching for my long lost love
In-between death and heaven above

I have a locket filled with her soul
Around my neck it defines my role
Darkness, a true path to trudge
A place where light cannot judge †

All the ghosts are chained to their past
The moon and twilight is dim and vast
My spirit is free and confined to infinity
A star lives in my soul for death is eternity
poet Anonymous

Duck'N'Dive (25)

My feelings lately: escaping seems appealing
Peeling off in the late evening
Dreaming of finding a life with great meaning
I mean it's fine with me to lay eyes to the ceiling, not moving, not breathing

No minutia
No monotony either
People playing power moves, making me weaker
Need space to breathe and a bottle I can drink up
Wasted yet another chance for me and fate to link up

Something sad about the fact I miss the drama
Anxiety holding me back from Kristiana
Bet her lips nirvana
I bet that this is Karma
For making my own mission a million times harder by

Scripting fibs and writing lies
Her diamond eyes and priceless thighs
Only one of her kind I could find in my life
My years of hearing denials have steered my appearance shy, YO GOD!

Can you give a dude a do-over?
At least my own room with no gloom that looms over?
I took the long route in my boots, no new Rover
I move like I'm snoozing or falling into a coma

And now my soles are worn
Heart grows colder so I soldier on
Everyday I pray for gold, even though, I know it's wrong
I never knew of a soul that ever chose to be born, because

who would pick this
Bliss-less mischief?
6th in stick shift
Hit the brick quick
Split from existence and, dip the shit pit
Even arms of Gods got problems tryna lift this

Shit, I wrestle with depression
Hard to learn your lessons when you never did expect them
The minute that a man is born, the world is gonna test him, it's like

Problems, always, pop up out of nowhere
Lost another job, rock bottom, gonna go there

Well at least then it's all up
They say success is, mostly all luck
Is it possible to get some when falling, balled up? BINGO!

Nope, Lord is my Sheppard
And I'm still sheepish, please, lead me somewhere better
Or Im'ma fucking die, Duck and Dive
Sick and tired of welling up,
And coming up dry
poet Anonymous

Becoming Death

Mother was too pale to cough black,
Father became the house,
a face of weathered granite
melded with the stones,
kept crooked by the constant wind
raging off the moors.
When I look to the fields
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns
his snakes hiss across the crops,
I donít want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.
I watch the walls at night,
my back to the flames,
creatures come to dance behind me.
He told me not to turn
so I watch a life of shadows
flying with the sun and rain,
straining to see the subtleties.
He's moving closer to the house,
I call the children in from the washing line
they've been out all day
flapping like larks on the breeze.
I hold them to my cheek smell their folded hair.
He's outside the window now,
I havenít moved for days.
The house growls as the wind changes direction
and he's sitting at my table,
insects sprawling from his outstretched hands.
It only takes a touch.
Iím in the top field
listening for two travelers
as they cross the moors,
one is very weak so I tell him
he won't make the journey.
Then I move a little closer,
I know he can hear me.
poet Anonymous

Death By Life

Blood in my eyes,
not liquidized
metaphorically speaking of
pain and hatred,
Realistically speaking,
I'm hurting.
Trying to cope with the pressures of life,
Life becomes too much
yet not enough
At the same time, so many hands
Stretched out to me
But none for me,
walls closing in around me
I can't breathe, claustrophobia.
This tightened grip around my neck
its suffocating,
Rhetorically speaking
I'm dying.
poet Anonymous

When I Die

When Iím finally laid to rest,    
Please donít put me in a wooden casket;  
Or leave flowers at my grave,  
In a pretty little basket. †  
Donít pump me full of chemicals †  
And put me on display; †  
Just bury me beneath the earth, †  
And plant a seed upon my grave. †
† †
As my body rots below, †  
My atoms are assimilated; †  
In my place a tree will grow, †  
From the place that I originated. †  
† †
Precious minerals, returned to earth; †  
Little molecules of me, †  
The fuel for yet another life†  
As I become the tree.
poet Anonymous

Dear, Robert

It still gets to me even to this day
You died believing everyone hated you
Whoís fault was it?
My step mumís not telling me where you was
or yourself not wishing to know anyone from my side of the family anymore?
But I sat many of times with you in that room
How I felt the energy instantly
of you crying in front of me
explaining how difficult it was to live with my mother
I couldnít help or make it better
but I was there, I was listening?
Feel like death has taken me
with every word Iíd have wrote in my diary
come and close it
I canít apologise enough for being the way I am
being inspired to then go through that funny quoting
Iím sure other poets rose like a phoenix
only to be pissed off
they never left a message of where their body would be left rotting
having no consideration towards others noses
Iíll leave this not at an end
because Iím travelling to your grave
to run and show this
I survived 2017
but a part of me wishes I didnít
I just need you to know I cared more than anyone else
I really did

poet Anonymous

Too Late Suicide

I slit both wrists
and pray to God I drain slowly.
feel every vein in me
pump blood out of my body.
No fight left in me,
No reason to be,
So this is my last story.
I sit here,
legs stretched out in front of me
thinking of what life should be.
I'll use this forum of DU Poetry
To leave a piece of me.

I feel okay,
Just numb around wrist and the thumb.
My hearts beating a little fast
but nothing to be alarmed.

I've tried and failed and failed and tried, failed again
I'm just tired....
life hasn't been that good to me i must admit
It's gotten the best of me.

My head's feeling a little dizzy,
bare with me.

thoughts of all the things i should do instead of this,
Fuck my wrists hurt.

I took a minute to read
DUP's inspiring poems
and I must admit I'm inspired.

God, I feel so weak right now.

I've had a change of mind
I want to live
I want to try and see how best to turn my life around.
My eyes are shutting down.

IF yOu ArE rEaDinG tHiS nOw Just KnoW ThAt I
poet Anonymous

An untraveled road

A rider from the secret place comes forth
Opens the hidden door to a twisting flame
Pantomiming lies of demonic tales be swarth
The false heart now wrote above their old shame...
The paperless affections into a twelfth light
A cross-cut knife into a wrought synchronicity
Apollo's heart bleeds out in starless lonely night
Athena's mind-gripped fear of moonless mystery...
'Come as a Reaper, for as thus you will sow'
Falsifying sickle-bearer an elder named Satu
Nexion near Saturn wherefrom Vindex to grow
Algol and Dabih forming inauspicious stars onto...
'Agios o Cronos. Gaudete hodie scietis qui a veni et Vindex'...
poet Anonymous


Today you held my hand for the last time
And told me how much I meant to you
The only woman you ever loved you said
How I wish you'd told me that yesterday

Today you planted my favourite flowers
Magnolia, Gardenia and Freesia
So I can smell them for eternity
How I'd waited for a single rose from you

Today I lay here alone once again
Like the long nights and days
That I lay alone waiting for you
As you laid next to her on our bed

Today as i finally sleep for eternity
Broken heart syndrome they called it
My heart and soul finally free
From all the pain and hurt you caused
Today I finally Rest in Peace


poet Anonymous

The Big Day

The big day had at long last, finally arrived
That he had been waiting for his whole life
Though he hadn't always realized

His suit had been laid out for him while he slept
His dearest had chosen colors to best represent
His greatest strengths while hiding any regrets

Hired servants washed him with reverence
Hushed tones, voices soft in his presence
His thoughts distant in contemplated existence

He wasn't royalty, he wasn't loaded with cash
His parade wasn't lead with sirens and flash
But people waved at his carriage as he passed

He seemed in a trance as he entered the hall
Pictures and awards lining the walls
His closest friends beside him, standing tall

This was his party, this was his day
His greatest prides put on display
As people from his life took turns to say:

"...Always the ideal example of a man,"
"My life is better for knowing him," and
"I admire his work, I'm his biggest fan."

And all the things he failed to accomplish
Were justified away, "He knew how to dream big"
The holes that he made just show he could dig

The crowd laughed as they roasted him
They raised their glasses and toasted to him
As his friends bragged and boasted for him

Then the mood of the room grew a little more sober
As the love of his life revealed how deeply he loved her
And the blush on his cheeks seemed out of character

They then closed their eyes and said a prayer
Thankful for the moments they were blessed to share
That formed the memories they held so dear

They tucked him gently into his little bed
Then placed a kiss on his wrinkled forehead
And took one last look before closing the lid,

Uncovered the vault, lowered him into the ground
Crying as the casket slowly went down
And then covered it up with earthen brown

Then went their separate ways to try to move on.
poet Anonymous

Worm's Dessert (A plea for salvation)

poet Anonymous


Tell the seas
To tell the skies
To cry out
to the fields,
mountains †
And forests †
The time is here †
The time †
It's now †
To take back †
To reclaim †
And refuse †
Any other †
Mobilize †
Revolutionize †
Release all ties †
From Man †
And his material †
Eyes †
Bringeth death †
Until the last man †
Dies †
Tell the nesting birds †
To sing to north and south †
East and west †
Leave no stone unturned †
No plant unfurled †
No glacier denied †
The time has come †
The time is now †
The sun and the moon †
Know only too well †
Mans reign will become †
A distant long gone †
Moment of generosity †
Damn you Man †
Damn you †
To a hell of your †
Own making †
Your own imagining †
Ultimately †  
Your own choosing †
Silence him †
Slaughter and †  
Squeeze his every last †
Squish his hopes †
His dreams †
And all that he ever became †
Or believed †
For we would all be †
Better for it †
Returning us †
To our serenity †
The natural way of things †
Man †
And his unnatural ways †
He thought he was something †
More special than us all †
With his forged ferrous' †
His plastic poison †
Lost in his own mind †
Corrupt †
And taker of all †
That was good †
Worshiper of the †
death Oil †
Tell them †
Tell them all †
Scream their names †
Bellow, cry and sound out †
For now he will †
Take his last †
We will rejoice †
All of us †
Those who are left †
Remembering the others †
Who Man forsook †  
We'll remember them †
Just as Man never did †
Death is upon him †
Death will be his only name †
Death to Man †
Death †
Death †
poet Anonymous

Time is Ticking

Can you feel it?
Itís growing stronger every day.
That feeling of existential dread
Which rises from the darkest depths of your mind,
Bubbling to the surface of your thoughts,
And spilling into consciousness
As ink to the page of a writer's will.
You know it all too well...
That feeling of malaise you brush away
Like a fly from your plate,
Or a mosquito, buzzing in your ear.
Like an incessant internal itch
Which can never be scratched,
The inevitability of death brings an urgency to life
That I canít seem to shake.
With no guarantee of another day,
How can we waste our lives away
Pursuing empty endeavors,
Depriving ourselves of pleasures,
When life could be so much better?
poet Anonymous


She's always preparing
for the worst;
even now, in-between the
calm and the storm.

Yet with unflinching eyes,
she sits quietly,
taking it all in.
Like a cold morning
on the porch with
her coffee.

To her, grief is
a planned process.
Something tangible.
If she can take
enough notes,
and do her research,
she can handle it.

And death,
she knows him.
He's an old friend,
sitting in the corner
of the room as
we speak.

But for this,
she couldn't prepare.
This time, it's
out of her hands.
The deck of cards
given and cursed
at birth.

Now, like a passenger
of a ship, she will wait
for its landing.
And the worst is
yet to come,
but this time
she won't be ready.
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