Posts tagged ‘death’

August 11, 2019

Ghost Ocean

by The Cheesesellers Wife

Waves throw up on the shore
remnants of ocean lives
tangles of plastic
debris from both sides
of a blurring boundary.
Revealing hints of the diversity underneath
and of the death we impose.

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

https://thecheesesellerswife.wordpress.com/

 

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April 6, 2019

What Comes Before Silence

by HemmingPlay

Death is not bitter
death is a silence
But dying is bitter.
Dying is hard.
With you,
it was the sound.

It was like drowning,
no detail spared,
in slow motion…

with metastases of cancer
that filled the lungs
and grew, sending out
ghastly spawn to live in bone

read more »

November 3, 2018

THE THRILL OF WRITING

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I Hear The Rhythm
Of My Pulse Beating
Between My Ears
As I Tap, Tap, Tap The Keys

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August 26, 2018

Dreaded Whispers

by Anita Lubesh

AF0EEDD8B65EF78E39DD438AD8C90519.jpg

Cotinus Young Lady-SmokeBush-Asitcomes

Been gardening again… I love this plant.

Strokes of moonlight smother
the inflorescent
whispers of the smoke bush

wavering against twilight’s
ghostly dreams
while pondering the water,
pondering depth and death.

read more »

August 20, 2018

HE BETRAYED HER HEART

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Sitting Alone At The Bar
Nursing A Whiskey
In The Middle Of The Afternoon
With A Far Away Look In His Eyes

I Sat Down Next To Him
And Asked The Barkeep For A Beer
To Quench The Thirst
Of A Humid Summer Day

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August 15, 2018

YOU ARE MY FOREVER AND ALWAYS

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

From The First Time
I Laid Eyes On You
I Loved You

It Was Love At First Sight,
And You Stole My Heart
Forever

That Moment
Was The Start
Of Me Loving You

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June 22, 2018

Summer Wars

by Renwick Berchild

The dust of Summer,
rubber, barbecue and
mT air that I beg might bring the rains, Neruda’s
gold ghost, Las Manos del Dia under an umbrella say
do I comprehend, how much it may mean
to meet a grizzled old tree
hale and green
after the many deaths
of teething Winter,
hollow poems
no justice
they cannot say,
Longfellow is out walking
my cautious light around the park.

read more »

June 21, 2018

The Oak

by Nick Anthony

In the park there stands an old oak.
I know not how aged it is,
But it was here before I was
And it will remain long after I do not.

Every morning I pass by its thick trunk,
The oak waves its branches, goodbye.
And every night I drunkenly stumble home,
It’s standing still, in silent judgment.

Even when I dash past and miss its farewell
In the rush to catch the last possible train
To $9.50 an hour misery with no future,
I know the stoic oak is standing there,
Gayly laughing at my fleeting and meaningless struggles.

read more »

June 18, 2018

Crushed

by Linda Lee Lyberg
forest-552868_1280

“Just beyond the bruised lips of consciousness.”

from Birds Again

~ Jim Harrison

The stars once bright in eyes now faded and gray
viewing the world through tangled trees
a purple haze of permanent contusions,
amid barren thoughts of rotting leaves
the result of love damaged beyond reason.
April 21, 2018

Reluctant Spirits

by HemmingPlay

A woman I know,
a believer, told me
she saw angels hovering
over our house.
I can’t see them, but
it wouldn’t surprise me.

Sitting by your bed
through the long nights,
feeling you slip away
a bit at a time as the cancer
races through you,

read more »

March 6, 2018

Death is Perfect

by pranabaxom

A clear blue sky lacks definition
A blank slate characterless
Beware of the one without blemish
Beneath the serene surface
Lurks the deepest secrets
Enemies with flaws

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February 15, 2018

HAIKU: UNSAFE IN OUR SCHOOLS

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

UNSAFE IN OUR SCHOOLS

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February 15, 2018

#191 POETRY =

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Poetry =

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February 9, 2018

#185 POETRY =

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Poetry =

read more »

February 7, 2018

The Cosmos

by Nick Anthony

When I was born, the Cosmos was young.
It’s exponential growth had scarcely begun.
As an infant, I learned to always ask, “Why?”
And the universe expanded with each reply.
Across the island of knowledge I began to crawl
And found not an edge or end, but endless sprawl.

Until, I heard something I knew was absurd.
Even though people called scientists avidly concurred
That the Cosmos was finite and several billion years old,
Who were they to limit what my universe could hold?
When, contrary to the revered “intellectuals’” thinking,
Visceral evidence told me, the Cosmos was shrinking.

read more »

January 23, 2018

On Missing You Too Soon

by HemmingPlay

I find myself imagining
how the differences will
play out…
The unfamiliar,
lengthening silences,
stretching into the dusk.
The way dust devils will
gather in corners, waiting
for something that
will never come.

read more »

January 23, 2018

MY ADDRESS BOOK IS SHRINKING

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I Have An Address Book
It’s Not A Little Black Book
That I Wish Was Filled With
The Names Of Wonderful
Girls And Women I Had
Relations With Through
The Years

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December 18, 2017

Lazarus, After

by HemmingPlay

Lazarus never smiled
after he rose from the dead.
For 30 years, until he died again,
he was haunted by the
unredeemed souls he saw
in the four days he
journeyed in the afterlife.

Laughter died stillborn in his chest.
That was what he told neighbors—
when he talked about it.
But, it was hard to speak, and
had been since that day.
His throat was always dusty
and his tongue thick.

read more »

December 11, 2017

Soldiers

by Renwick Berchild

And he blows his head open, because he is in the army; he does not
want to go back. He makes it clear.

I was his friend, when he was alive and in high school.
I am his friend again, now that he is gone and fading.

read more »

December 9, 2017

Epiphany

by HemmingPlay

When the sun comes up like thunder

I knew a guy.
Cancer survivor,
worn down to the lacy bone,
thin, with dry skin.
But a light shone through
his stretched parchment skin
like some kind of
organic fire.
The brush with death
left a calling card.
“I’ll be back” it said.
“You won’t know when.”

read more »

December 7, 2017

A MATTER OF TIMING

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

Someday I will die
and so will you
but here’s what
we should do 

Let’s avoid
Someday

read more »

December 1, 2017

MOTHER NATURE IS ANGRY

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

I see the dark clouds gathering
ominously warning
the wise to flee
to find shelter
from the coming storm 

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November 24, 2017

The Plight of the Rose

by Linda Lee Lyberg
Your memory is a wilting rose
Fraught with cold moonlight
Red petals weep in silent repose
Mourning its soul’s fated plight.

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November 10, 2017

Youth

by Linda Lee Lyberg

-By Linda Lee Lyberg

As gloaming shadows fell
Across his threadbare sleeve
There are times better remembered
In blurred moments of rending grief.

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November 3, 2017

HAIKU: DUST TO DUST

by thereluctantpoet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I am made of dust

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October 31, 2017

The Reaper

by Linda Lee Lyberg

statue-1708205_1280

The Reaper

-Linda Lee Lyberg

Every moment we lose someone
We learn the meaning of sympathy
How grief will hurt and leave us undone
But in it’s place grows sweet empathy.

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October 20, 2017

Day’s Rage

by Linda Lee Lyberg

sunset-194702_1920

Day’s Rage

-Linda Lee Lyberg

Divine day rages against dark night
As a fiery sun hangs low in the sky
Sacred light will not run from the fight
Though Mother moon is looming nigh

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October 8, 2017

Worms do not Compare

by Zenei

Some only look up,

Picking and socializing,

Undaunted by Words.

read more »