#death poem

[m00wd]

Without The Little Death Of Every night, How Can We Survive Everyday Life?

Hymn To Sleep

[lynne84]

There is beauty in the emptiness, a humorous undertone beats out of its curious heart.

I wish to laugh, but I can not.

I am a part of it, and I may not speak.

The laughter grows louder even when the masses are quiet.

A silent joke, protruding from the hallow gash.

I see it.

It's meaning divined through a compass, whose hands have long since faded.

Now left to rot in the incessantly adrift laughter.

[wordsspeaksing]

you start to think breakup songs are about grief

there’s really no simpler way to put it

songs you’ve heard a million times about love and loss and heart ache means something else entirely now

you don’t think of your crush or your 10th grade boyfriend or your first love when you hear the word “loss”

you think of her

“how blind was i” you think

how idiotic to have thought that a sad song could be about anything but her death

after this epiphany, the world is tinted

like the dark glasses you wore to her funeral

these songs are not about unrequited affection, but love being torn from your grasp

the hopelessness of a break up song makes more sense

now it isn’t hyperbole

because you truly never will speak to her again

the only place you can feel her is in the music she made brand new

and as you hit play

the weepy lovers may have been fooled, but you know it was written just for you

oh, sing to me again

[astoryfullofwoe]

I’d kill you with my kiss but you’ll kill me just the same

What can you say to 

someone who licked 

blood from wounds 

while others were sucking 

milk from teats?

How do you love a rabid dog?

The answer is simple:

you don’t. 

You euthanize it. 

You euthanize the dog 

because it’s contagious;

it is sick and you are not. 

It does not even have to bite—

a lick would suffice to kill. 

Sinking my fangs into tender flesh 

and holding on for dear life 

is the only way I know

how to call something mine. 

If I were to hold your hand,

I would crush your fingers. 

I don’t know how 

to love without possession  

to the point of destruction. 

I cannot love you in the way 

you deserve to be loved;

I could claw my heart out of my chest,

feel the veins popping, 

hear the ribs snapping,

and offer it to you like Holy Communion,

still beating in my hands and

bleeding down my arm, begging

consume it, make me a part of you,

but that won’t change the fact that 

you’ve never quite acquired 

a taste for raw meat. 

My tastes are known;

kindness and I were never friends. 

A gentle hand did not raise me, 

wolves did, and they do not 

take kindly to a soft belly. 

Don’t you understand? 

You’re a complete crisis of my faith. 

The sun could never love a black hole

without eventually succumbing to the darkness. 

I would ruin you for anyone else. 

My hands would stain your lovely skin–

ash-dirty handprints marking you up,

scarring like an infection, ‘til the end of time. 

My rabid dog kiss of death 

would follow you around, 

the foam from my mouth 

sticking to your teeth like plaque. 

I beg you, don’t let my rot fester

and peel your flesh from bone. 

Besides, you would ruin me for everyone else. 

I wouldn’t be able to feel 

the sun on my skin 

without recalling how much 

it feels like your touch. 

I’d never be able to open myself to another 

because in every lover I’d take,

I’ll look for grains of your face, 

haunting my narrative with your tendrils of life. 

Love will forever be 

synonymous with your name. 

You’ve made a graveyard of me, my dear;

your chest: my final resting place. 

I sleep in your aorta, eyelids fluttering,

with dreams of your smile and warm mouth,

and hope to never wake up. 

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.25.24 “Death and Remembrance"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

You may kill me In every way that matters There is not in-perpetuity To my body No mechanism nor elixir that When meticulously applied will prolong My thoughts And body And mind I am not a thing of marvel Of myth Of legend I am flesh and blood And when you cut me Of course, yes – I will bleed And when I die Oh, yes, with great-little acclaim I will die Not tomorrow, nor the next It is coming, At a pace I cannot outrun When Death, my childhood friend Greets me with his hood and scythe Reaping the seeds I have sown Pulling me from the seams of life I have so painstakingly attached myself to Will I be remembered? Artefacts of my phrases Twisted and reused By friends and family Passerby students Will remnants of me linger on the lips In the thoughts In the dreams Of lives so briefly linked to mine? This body of mine Already crumbling Will become an ivory ruin Covered in rot and ruin In ashes Made ashes For new greenery to grow Will what I have done Continue to fight to exist?

[tomoeakatsuki]

(By _altheadavis_ on Instagram)

It's so Beyond Evil coded. And I'll explain why.

"Please let the deer

on the highway

get some kind of heaven"

Lee Yu-yeon. She and the deer both killed by a car, both without a worthy end - the deer lying on the street, Yu-yeon buried in the wall of her own house.

"Something with tall soft grass

and sweet reunion"

The reed fields. So beautiful, yet so deadly - as Lee Dong-sik says to Han Joo Won and he almost experimented on his own skin - and don't forget, the theatre of the tragedy.

"Let the months in porch lights

go some place

with a thousand suns,

that tastes like sugar

and get swallowed whole."

The other victims. The prostitutes, Jae-yi's mother, Bang Ju-seon, Kang Min-jung. What's the fault of a moth for simply being attracted by the light, denied to it? None. It's just a bad circumstance.

"May the mice

in oil and glue

have forever dry, warm fur

and full bellies."

Lee Dong-sik, and Han Joo Won. Both of them. Because they were just living their life, like everyone. But things happen and they are forced to change radically - a good, normal life is only a dream for them, for a long time.

"If I am killed

for simply living,

let death be kinder

than man."

That's a thought that sometimes passes in Lee Dong-sik's mind, thinking about her sister. He wants to be the executioner, but he's only the victim - he'll need Han Joo Won for that.

And the man. Well. It's obviously the butcher, the great puppet master. Han Gi-hwan.

[poetic-solitude]

If you ended your own life

Would it be poetic justice

Being killed

By your own creation

[anayaisapoet]

the unknown has plagued my mind

ever since i learned

the sun will one day

come to an end.

i now don’t worry about such things

as the now seems more weary

than what may come

billions of years from now.

i hope when my soul departs

it finds peace in what i could not.

i hope it intertwines ever so lightly

with the dew drops

on the tips of a hydrangea

in the views of a distant sunset.

i hope it kisses the tears

of everyone i’ve come

to cross paths with on this earth

and gives them desperate warmth

during harsh winters.

if this soul has done wrong

or has had wrong done unto it

let it join our hands

and feel every groove,

every scar,

and mesh into one

as the memories wash away.

nothing on this earth

has ever belonged to me.

but my death will.

the agony of what could be

now

makes it all the more beautiful-

- anayaisapoet ‘beauty beckons backwards’

[ilayinroses]

constantly dying and losing parts of oneself yet can never truly die

[m00wd]

Life Becomes Ironic When Your Only Positive Thought Is Remembering Death.

[sleepyhouse2art]

this is kind of a death poem. i think this is what i will see when i die

[mylittletankaworld]

moon that dimly shone lost its radiance tonight lying at the fore a path lined with lycoris adorning my way westward

[the-enby-doughnut]

I hope dying is like that one person who’s long since left wrapping you up in their arms and holding you tight and comforting you one last time. I hope dying is like when you were a little kid and your mom would soothe your fevers. I hope it’s like the feeling of the waves still rocking you after a long day at the beach when you fall asleep

[poetic-poemas]

Uma espécie de pré-neurose do que serei quando já não for gela-me corpo e alma. Uma como que lembrança da minha morte futura arrepia-me de dentro. Numa névoa de intuição, sinto-me, matéria morta, caído na chuva, gemido pelo vento. E o frio do que não sentirei morde o coração atual.

-Fernando Pessoa, Livro do Desassossego

[env0writes]

Umber Embers Vol.3, 9.9.24 “Fall; Acheron's Threshold ”

When I fall Will it be beautiful? Twirling in my descent Helical in direction Almost in opposition Rebellious to gravity's will When I fall Like a nettle of pine Lost is the evergreen Hue too, a liar Dropping to the earth With little acclaim When I fall Will there be shock or awe? When my color pales Like an oak and in a shiver– A shake; drop Into a pile Below

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!

[braindeadpoet20]

I miss you…

Your heart no longer beats but I can still feel it.

Breath no longer leaves your lungs but I can hear it.

You can no longer make sound but I can still hear your laughter and listen to your sweet voice.

You can no longer move your arms but I can feel them wrap around me.

Your legs can no longer take you away where but I can feel you waking with me.

Your soul is no longer on this earth but I can feel your presence as though you’re here with me.

You can no longer express your love for me but I promise that I will feel it everlasting.

And if I should see you again, then I will tell you of all the things that I missed about you…

For you were the one I loved the most…