Prose Poetry death poems and poems about death for Prose Poetry. Read and share these heartfelt Prose Poetry death poems with loved ones, friends and family members. Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for non-death related poems or Prose Poetry Poems.
anxiety, dark, emotions, fate, grief, pain, sorrow,
Hope, A Little Remained
She walked the creaking floors of the rat-infested room,
trying to remember what tragedy had sent her to this shabby place.
Her heart felt the desperate pains, that lost love sends in aching waves,
praying her sleeping infant does not wake and cry out from its feverish thirst.
He paced the cold cell, languishing in deep misery, heart shattered,
each step an eternity echoing curses, a testament to his broken pride.
Although thousands of miles apart, he felt her loss, never-ending sorrows,
dawn would come, priest would take his last confession, yet Hope remained.
For Silent One's, eight lines of fate, when you wonder if it is too late.
death, loss, music, sad, uplifting, day,
Today, I had a chance to ask his widow, Laurie, about this story. She
confirmed that it did happen, and he came home from work that day excited, and
told her and their 3 daughters about the event.
And sure enough, shortly thereafter, the song became a hit on the radio, and
M.T.V., in those ancient days when they actually played music.
This news brightened my day considerably, and I'm happy to share it with you;
so when you next hear that song, remember my good buddy, Mark Trotiner, the
uncredited genius behind it.
One too many poems: Like a barking dog at
The Garden gate: Oblivious to the beauty of the Garden, and
Unwilling to let anybody in it to enjoy it.
beauty, bereavement, death, death of a friend, eulogy, sister, sympathy,
An angel returned to heaven today
deployed to erase gluttonous hate
from envy's grasp love is pulled away
To bring order to disarray
supplying hope while replacing sloth
An angel returned to heaven today
Armed with beauty, charm and compassion
pride is now faced with a trained assassin
whether with song, a smile, a shoulder or ear
greed, anger and lust is sent running in fear
An angel returned to heaven today
after years of service in the field
from the mission never did she stray
In our hearts she will forever stay
so, let us remember, let us rejoice
cause our angel returned to heaven on this day
Poetry Is It
death, dedication, depression, devotion, education
Each field is barren white with snow,
around me blind, they know.
Darkness brings the haze of dawn,
how many must it show.
While many miles of web it's barb,
it tastes and grows.
Bringing home the wheat,
and powdered souls,
spread open far and wide.
Touching only youth,
Each gem from stone,
pours out and lost our seed it keeps.
Is It Poetry
africa, black african american, children, death, faith, simile, war,
CRY THE BELOVED CONTINENT…
(Apropos The Ripping Veil of Pan-Africanism)
In all her blackness
her soils run red
with the blood of her children
Whose bloated bellies
mock the pregnancy
And her breasts
sag in union
of hopeless hopefulness;
While hollowed eyes
gaze into the wholeness
Smiling death stalks
the narrowing corridors of
life---echoing souring laughs
to virgin wombs
screaming from the shadows
of the valley of death:
But believe brethren---
mock not the gods---
for in the theism
of this imposed dystopia,
a wretched mother
tenaciously clings to time
blessing, death, dedication, emotions, i love you, life, mother,
We sing a song to our Mother's soul who has passed and gone
she sings back as an angel from beyond and drops a tear
as we sleep so we won't wake and weep
On earth she gave us birth and strength to shine in this universe
and to remember family comes first for even in death
we have rebirth and a life of worth
So, we sing a song to our Mother's soul who has passed and gone
we will remain strong and will carry on for this beautiful angel
from beyond who has bygone for our mom.
T Reams 2/10/2015 to my sweet sister Jenny in memory of our mother Barbara
death, peace, me,
laid me down
within cold tomb
light capture me
neath baying tree
feel thy warmth once more
white spirit of feathered down
lay upon my soul
pray set me to rest
Written to accompany one of my photographs.
This is the link to the image...
abuse, bereavement, betrayal, brother, death, death of a friend, words,
My brother’s hand regarded not my words for, they go unheard, as the silence grows my brother’s hand clinches cold and my last words fall to the ground pooling, congealing into an unsatisfied thirst. The devils on horseback are led to the water, but never drinking, as the blackened house lies in ruin. I wonder about the tree in the forest and the forest without ears to hear and the tree never seen, but alas and alas every man. How does a machete make more noise and fire be heard on the other side of the world? It may have been bearable, but I am not alone and I know their words will never be heard for they are in my brother’s hand. 11/5/2014
creation, encouraging, environment, fantasy, feelings, life, love,
I am alone on the island of death
Around the bodies of hundreds
Natural disasters happened a little earlier
My enemies, allies, relatives
Some of the most intimate
I am on mass of ruins
Loud noise...Moaning...Unbroken silent in a trice
I am just at the end
There are no tears in my eyes, no fear in chest
I am speechless
I am in the midst of so much death, destruction
Creation is alive
It's my responsibility to rotate the wheel again
SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA
allegory, analogy, black african american, conflict, grief, hope, simile,
The Last Supper of Hope
Grief has exhausted itself
And pain has abandoned the heart;
Emptiness now lives where joy
Once called home.
Our streets have become cisterns
Of blood—death quenching its thirst—
Flashbacks of the belly bowels of slave ships
Flying flags of crosses and crescent moons alike.
Hell remains without fury—never discriminating;
And Dante smiling—spits in the face of justice.
Today Armageddon sits at the Last Supper;
May hope be the Bread and Wine. And
Judas forgets to RSVP.
allegory, death, life, loss, nature, sad, sympathy, time,
Somebody’s Baby, lie still
Embalmed in pure white cotton,
Cocooned securely, like the babe in arms
within the shroud.
Seraphim cavort no more upon a form
once touched with shades of youthful innocence.
Somebody’s Baby, be sure.
Your time for dreams now spent,
No future beckons only time captured frame by frame,
Frozen in vulgar technicolor;
Close Up; Explicit, depicting genre yet unclassified;
The epic over exposed.
Somebody's Baby, be silent.
Grey and gnarled imposter in the cot
Metamorphosis contrives a landscape dry and gnarled.
No more seductress of tender ministry;
Solitary, silently; endures the travesty
Of human demise.
The dead are refugees
To an immortal caves,
Hidden in the pockets of the earth,
They are escaping from sins
Exhausting by the pain .
We are the dead
But we are walking.
A poem by : Saad Mohammed Al-Husseen (Iraqi Poet)
Translated by :Laith Seher
We said :What are all those feathers ?
When we walked for the funeral of the kid .
His father raised his hand ,
picked up a feather
and cried :This is the word "a dove"
He learned to say since two days.
we forget to take it out of his mouth .
The poem by :Maithem Radhi (Iraqi Poet )
Translated by : Laith Seher
allegory, analogy, black african american, discrimination, eulogy, imagery, racism,
Shades of a Colored Man
The signs use to read:
“For whites only”—
clear as day.
If you’re brown
you may stick around;
but blacks must get back.
Today is equal opportunity employment
but your equity has been revoked;
job’s been passed on to another colored yoke.
Beside, you’re over qualified;
the shade of skin is not why you’re denied.
Then in the heat of day, you screamed and cried:
“Give me liberty or give me death!”
Your demand they granted immediately:
Today we dig your grave.
deep, eulogy, write,
Sharon why do you come?
Sharon you were not my
Confidant nor my peer
Could you be some long
You are the only
One who has come,
More than one time.
Met you in this lifetime,
When you were here.
My spade partner
It would seem likely.
Family would look in..
But it's Okay, that it's you,
You're the only
One that has
Made it known.. that
Ain't gone. One day
More will be revealed
As to the meaning
Of your communication;
As you seem the most unlikely
Too attach yourself to my soul station.
“Sharon, I think I now
Know why have you come"
analogy, children, death, imagery, simile, war,
For Children of War and Other Deceptions
The load of time
on the yokes of life;
the unshelled shelled.
Innocence of children
life failed to root itself.
Janus face war genuflects
praising its necessity.
bereavement, courage, dark, death,
The Big C
If I had cancer I would cry
Brother, mother, grandfather
Lost to this disease
Firsthand knowledge not a gift
Could it be a lie?
If I had cancer I would pray
To the only god I know
For courage, strength
For me and family
Could it be I'll die?
If I had cancer I would run
From pain and death
As far as fast as I could
Away from a cruel fate
Can anyone relate?
If I had cancer
Stand and fight--maybe
For a time a valiant effort
But in the end
I will fly away on angel's wings
If I had cancer
allegory, hope, life, philosophy, sympathy,
Everyday I wake, I bathe in the river Jordan: taking with me the dirtiness from the yesterdays. Repeating the same sins, that were never washed clean. Reenacting the past and all its ways.
africa, allegory, analogy, bereavement, betrayal, daughter, simile,
Of Daughters and Aborted Liberties…
My ravished womb drips
precious blood of incestuous rape;
the ghosts of my daughters scream
from shared graves
marked with vaginal blood
shed by sons drunk
on the wine of intoxicating power.
Mislead adolescent warriors
fan holocaust embers
scorching time tested hopes
gone to ashes
as death winds strike chimes
of ebony genocide;
and the cradle and the grave
stand juxtaposed to each other.
My desperate screams
reverberate off once listening ears
and ricochet into the void silence
of a newsworthy footnote:
caught in the cobwebs of history
my aborted blood of liberty flows
like the meandering Nile.
death, depression, grief, hope, horror, life, sad,
APROPOS THE REFUGEE...
There is nothing left here
for death to claim; even hunger
has abandoned the swollen bellies
and parched skin of the walking dead:
eyes of gigantic pupils sunken deep
into desiccated cranial caverns.
In this fenced graveyard of waning life, flies
soar to and fro---depositing metaphoric maggots
in the midst of the festering wounds of despair.
In this God forsaken place, the flame of hope
grows dimmer with the wrinkling nipples of the breast
of time---her hourglass---haltingly emptying its self:
There is no refuge here
for the refugee.
cancer, death, deep, emotions, fantasy, symbolism, words,
In the murky depths of the night..
That is when she takes on flight..
Into a world that to most of us remains unknown..
If you catch a glimpse, your heart she might turn to stone..
That eerie chill you feel at times on your back...
Don't turn around or it is you she will attack..
Just keep walking straight ahead and whistle if you must..
Fight that urge to turn around and look, in that you can trust..
Never forget of the darkness that is always there..
If you choose to even take a peek, if you dare..
Her cold dark eyes pierce like a knife into your soul..
And letting you go back into the light is never her goal..
eulogy, nature, science, sea,
Nomads of the Arctic,
Never traveling south,
Noble Unicorns live
Now in the sea, under
Northern Lights and ice flows.
Near Threatened, will they die?
New hope in vigilance!
bereavement, care, career, military, patriotic,
The sky was lit by blinding light
But, not sunlight
The panorama was painted with darting pellets
But, not of rain rivulets
The ground quivering under flitting feet
But, not earthquake
The horizon hung with billowing smoke
But, not pillows of fluffy clouds
The constant bombing sounds bombarded my ears
But, not fireworks
As I looped in my shoestrings and gathered my rifle
My eyes yearned for an eyeful of that rodent-bitten snapshot
Stifling a sob that pained my heart,
Knowing I kept my promise for the nation before I depart...
confusion, death, depression, devotion, faith, inspirational, loss,
I imagine you're as sick of the mother teresa jokes, as I am of the bell
ones..."ding, dong" ring my chimes, on and on.etc.
anyway: re; the door; me too, and countless zillions of others.. but to us, ours are
the ones we deem to count to ...this is purely a natural trait...Death is the sword of
Damacles' held over all our heads, and worse yet, to those we love...and when it
collects it toll...our hearts have to dig a new hole.
best regards, tom