Simile death poems and poems about death for Simile. Read and share these heartfelt Simile death poems with loved ones, friends and family members. Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for non-death related poems or Simile Poems.
abuse, age, art, business, career, change, class, color, computer, conflict, death, depression, devotion, flower, green, happiness, introspection, irony, jobs, language, loneliness, lonely, longing, metaphor, nature, pain, philosophy, political, poverty, self, simile, slavery, social, society, spiritual, stress, technology, time, today, together, truth, urban, visionary, wisdom, work, world,
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
fear, grief, horror, introspection, joy, simile, thanks,
Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death;
I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth,
devoid of joy from the time of my birth
and from the first draw of my infant's breath.
An outcast and a pariah among
the friended, I exist without the mirth
and bliss of those born of more ample worth,
esteem, and prize,—O would that I belong!
Still, I am loved of my dear family
and most scarce friends, my books, and by my God,
and my most oft-read, soothing Poetry.
These things I treasure, honor, and so laud
with gratitude and thanks abundantly,
and so am glad like worms in blesséd sod.
Peter Lewis Holmes
fun, poetry, satire,
Oh I am a little metaphor
I love to play a word,
today I am a fortress on
Tuesday I’m a bird
On Wednesday I’m a simile
cos I’m like a train, storming
into history,to play this wordy game
On Thursday’s I push the boat out,
ploughing through the waves, then
Fridays I’m like a scimitar, slicing
through the raves
And if you catch me weekend, I
won’t hold a grudge, just take me
as you find me, wink, wink,
nudge, nudge, nudge.
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
analogy, bereavement, black african american, death, discrimination, grief, simile,
of unjust harvest
the grim reaper
being cast murderer
how long will
stopped stalked beings
be blown away
like crows in forbidden fields
does not war yield
enough to be reaped
will strange fruits
forever to be plucked
by the harvesters of hate
dark, death, fear, metaphor, river, simile, symbolism,
In Hades, flows the chthonic Styx, a river
of woe and pain (a channel thoroughfare;
where Charon ferries the dead, who despair)
which unnerves our damned souls till we quiver.
The Styx! It's like cirrhosis which kills the liver,
metastasizing there; but does not care;
and tortures us beyond what we can bear!
Because we are thrice-damned, we now shiver
with the peals of the Stygian death-knell;
while Heaven appears like a hope long dead
(as if we’re ten-thousand feet deep in hell!),
here, where the redeemed dare not walk or tread,
we are but ghosts, like shades without a shell:
yet, hell can we brave; but, the Styx we dread.
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.
Sickness sucks the sugar off
Tongues tied to thoughts of tomorrow
If the ingredients don't add up
I search for a cup to borrow
Lost souls left in a breezless meadow
Waiting for a seed to sprout
Can't you hear my shout
Languished and left in peace
Gripping ghosts of past deceased
Sticking the sick with crosses denied
Why do I anymore try
allegory, analogy, eulogy, games, grief, imagery, simile,
The Hungry Games Continue…
In a rose monkey moment
Hungry rides its pale horse
Into the sunset—Stunned;
Refuse to deflate
Even in death.
The hunger games continue…
bereavement, black african american, discrimination, metaphor, simile, sunset, sunshine,
from rising to setting
she saw sunshine
sunset saw son
shot in back—black
stopped on morning
found in hand
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.
death, humanity, life, metaphor, perspective, simile, symbolism,
yet fallen—snowflake errs, strays,
dies. Exists no more.
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, funny, memory, simile, thanks, tribute,
In our lives you were forever,
to make us cry, no never.
So many things that you did,
you made us all feel like a kid.
Every word you ever spoke,
somehow turned into a joke.
A special gift you had somehow,
I guess God must need it now.
He sent you to Angels above,
remember it's you we'll always love.
If it was loose, you would tighten the rope,
after all you were Bob Hope.
We're all so grateful for all you gave,
the crazy ways you would behave.
So may I say from many,
"Thanks for the Memory!"
analogy, betrayal, emotions, grief, lost love, pain, simile,
Pain answered the call
you never returned;
Happiness took a dive—fell
into a junkyard of despair—leaving;
Left a broken heart behind
Streaming threads of tears through eyes
of rusty needles of grief
to mend itself—
And you have the audacity:
What’s love got to do with you and me!
analogy, bereavement, discrimination, eulogy, evil, simile, violence,
Once more and again
like a keloid of shame
across the face
of the promise land.
liberty and justice
proves to be
only for some—
in the name of God.
to the tested innocent
the tried truth—
who they are:
children of the same God
blasphemed with desecration
allegory, death of a friend, eulogy, poets, simile, thanksgiving, tribute,
For Dead Poets Who Yet Live
The earth swallowed you—
spitting out seeded words
to linger like dusty books;
pages yellowing on rotting shelves.
Like your blood,
your ink well has dried—died.
we go in search of mangers—seeking
the resurrected word—crying out.
Old poets—at last—die; but
their words are reborn
in the pregnant minds left behind.
emotions, grief, humanity, metaphor, philosophy, simile, symbolism,
Heart, the most wounded part of the soul
Felt the darkest and wildest moment ever
Until the down of the pain of separation.
And then there entered the light of love
Unto the eyes within the heart
For love is not about grief and sorrow
Love is but the greatest force of attraction
Binds human and life together
And heals wounds within moments
For love is a fountain of youth, indeed.
Quote of Rumi -:
The wound is the place where the light enters you.
analogy, grief, imagery, love, metaphor, sea, simile,
The Waning of Tides of Love
Like the ebb
to thirsty shores,
were the ups and downs
of our love;
then at yesterday’s
and with lost gravity,
the thirsty tides
of our love
lost at sea
to return no more.
analogy, bereavement, emotions, grief, imagery, loneliness, simile,
loneliness is a period
a full sentence;
it mirrors a riverbed
loneliness is like a dried
empty egg shell
that has lost its all;
you were the watered
sentenced yolk of my life
and i miss you so dearly.
allegory, analogy, black african american, grief, hope, imagery, simile,
Today the rain fell
her drops reminiscent
of waters drowning
to survive tidal waves
seeking to douse
the flame of hope
held in the hand
of an elusive lady trying
to bear her anchored mooring.
The reality of the dream
of past and present cargo
remain on the outskirts of equanimity;
and while all lives matter
and crime knows no hue of skin,
it’s a crying shame
is still considered not to be a crime;
and keeping hope alive
is still an illusion of its own mind.
death, irony, metaphor, philosophy, poetry, simile, symbolism,
Deathwards go I—
Through this needle’s narrowing eye
Called Life, —
With mortal Thread stitched—.
If garment be weaved—
From Life by the Weaver’s loom;
Then weaved was
I by Him— ‘til worn and creased
Out of shape into Death’s cold womb—.
analogy, grief, imagery, irony, life, metaphor, simile,
A fly dropped
into my soup;
Down the drain I poured,
watching an old lady
digging through the garbage.
I puked as she ate
the stale bread
I had thrown away.
Yes, my life has had its fecal moments;
and hasn’t been like a bed of roses; but
at lease it ain’t been flushed down the toilet.
death, deep, judgement, mystery, religious, simile, sleep,
At night I sleep
Its start, I know not
But, will I ever know?
Now so long, still,
eyes close and open
Can I control, ever?
Someday these eyes,
finally, will close
How and when, can I know?
Someday like sleep,
they will so open
Where will they open?
dark, death, depression, extended metaphor, god, mental illness, simile,
The nightfall preys on the bipolar mind:
like a hunter hard on his prey, the nights
awaken a dysphoric mood; then grind
the soul to abject lows from perfect heights.
And when from states of bliss to states of woe
the spirit goes, even a king highborn
longs for insolvency where all men go;
where all departed are no more forlorn.
So if this sad dilemma be our plight,
then what is to be done; and where to turn?
As children of this Rubicon, we fight
to live each night and day till we adjourn:
till we wrest from this head, our predator,
salvation through a greater metaphor.