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Death Poems About Curtal Sonnet

Curtal Sonnet death poems and poems about death for Curtal Sonnet. Read and share these heartfelt Curtal Sonnet death poems with loved ones, friends and family members. Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for non-death related poems or Curtal Sonnet Poems.

Poem Details | by Zakhe Michael Mcunu |
Categories: anger, betrayal, conflict, grief, judgement, metaphor, pain,


A quick transaction made
A soul seeking for deposition
Deposited in solid walls
Walls so opaque with no decorations
Walking with passion of sailing the future
Posted with an envy heart of gold
Lend to fears of withdrawal from the dust
Abandoned like a child of a monster
Throbbing with wounds of rejection
I am sold to destitution left by forefathers
Thrown to the field of ghosts and demons
Haunted all day and nights
Withering to all the shameful surroundings
Banked to the highest blazing fears of hell
Seeking for resurrection that shall set me free
I am sold, sold by the one who loved me
The one calling me a friend 

Poem Details | by Elijah Manke |
Categories: courage, dark, death, war,

War in the trenches

I awake but was truly dazed.
I'm fumbling now through debris.
As they land now with gentle thuds.
Be it I might have gone deaf I was still unfazed.
This fight might be my last fight I will not flee.
I run through these mazes, I see men die, another rose, buds.
To me the world all but seemed quite solemn.
The men under me don't understand my plea.
My gun seems to have no effect am I shooting duds?
But as my men died I did my best to slalom.
But this story isn't nice I still ended up with the spuds.

Poem Details | by Elijah Manke |
Categories: dark, death, deep, depression,

Colorless white

A man walks through a winter wasteland.
A barren memory of sorrow and regret.
A quiet prison, forced to wander and sulk.
Hes lost and forgotten within his dreamland.
As he tries to pay his blood debt.
But he fails in his duty and all he does is skulk.
He falls He can't stand He’s frozen by a broken promise.
The white starts to encase him spreading up his limbs.
But he breaks free, He can't give up, He can't die.
But he gives up He let's it get to him, He uses hyoscyamus.
His soul leaves him flowing over the rims.

Poem Details | by Elijah Manke |
Categories: bible, death, devotion, fate,


I sat in my lonely room.
Then I heard the noise of thunder.
There stood before me a man on a pale horse.

I immediately knew it was life’s doom.
My life was forfeited, for him to plunder.
He spoke I was shaken it was ungodly deep and hoarse.

You will be mine herald, he said to me.
Let them know that the horsemen have returned.
He gave me his scythe as proof, it filled me with dread.

For him I bent at the knee.
For him I would love to live in an earthly bed.