Swan death poems and poems about death for Swan. Read and share these heartfelt Swan death poems with loved ones, friends and family members. Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for non-death related poems or Swan Poems.
His skin was like loose Saran wrap
that no amount of topical
cream could smooth away its wrinkles.
His skeletal bones creaked, muffled
by an old squeaking rocking chair
he gently, rhythmically rocked
to singsong poetry he wrote
nearly fifty odd years ago.
Each iambus spoken aloud
curiously matched his rocking:
the short syllables went backward
the longer ones ever forward.
Suddenly his recital stopped
and the chair went still and silent.
death, inspirational, life, on writing and words,
The shaman in Siberian snows,
Singing and dying
The Gnostic in life creating lines
Of song, of death,
Learning to heart his poetry,
With his last breath;
Pythagorus’s sacred password verse
Easing his transition
All know the deep wisdom
Of the mystic swan
Who sings as her soul takes flight
Towards the Love,
Towards the Light.
By the power of song,
By lines of love,
By pure poetry and profound enchantment,
We embrace the joyful journey
To the world
A poets quill lies on his desk
Atop a sheet of coffee-stained
Paper containing stylish script-
An Edwardian handwriting.
The quills point appeared to be dry
For sometime, likewise the inkwell.
On closer inspection the words
On the page became legible:
“My Swan Song” the title began.
It continued: “The flame of life
Grows dim and everything I have
Seen in this light was through the eyes
Of love. Love was writing verses
With this pen.” The words ended there.
Further searching found a yellowed,
Crinkled obituary clip:
“Today the town is saddened by
The loss of its poet Albert__...”
Karlin K. Jensen
dark, depression, grief, lost, pain, teen,
Who is really there to care
Whether or not I choose to scar?
White flesh burned hot red,
Endless thoughts are inside my head.
Memories twist, cruel forever,
Stopping any brave endeavor.
Words pierce sharp like glass,
Wilting me like fire scorched grass.
Silent dreams will never be heard;
In every couple, I am third.
Hurting inside, a forever grief,
Yet they always say life is brief.
If soon, I cannot see the dawn,
Then soon they’ll hear my dark swan song.
confusion, death, life, sea,
Down at Swan Lake
Where the grass is overgrown
And you swear there are bodies
Buried deep beneath the dry earth
That is where you’ll find me
And I have been sitting here for far too long
On a bridge made of bricks
Dedicated to someone important
And God only knows who
Well, I ran away and ended up here
Like I always do
My only companions are my own thoughts
And the rustle of dead leaves in the howling wind
Kurt Philip Behm
Apollo now guards
my Prose and my Verse
His Swan sings at last,
—the Raven in search
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
analogy, assonance, culture, death, film, grief, natural disasters,
I want to entertain the virus
and make it's stay seem wrong.
When acts of death for everyone
are playing for too long.
And all the times we take for them
are lost in hopes gone long.
When fears that we must make of them
are notes we'll grow to song.
And everything we take from them
for saying we're too strong-
when note for note we'll sing to them
in choke your words swan song.