Page name: Old death poetry submissions [Logged in view] [RSS]
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2011-08-16 11:12:53
Last author: kians mummy
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1. Puppet Master

The end soon approaches, midnight encroaches,
the friends I once had all scatter like roaches.
They all flee in fear, for soon will be here,
the one we call master, the wise puppeteer.
His eyes black as coal, I will soon pay the toll,
He has come now, alas, to harvest my soul.
He wields a sharp blade that none may evade,
He will not stop the hunt until all dues are paid.
It is done, no more sand, I give him my hand,
I travel, at last, to the dark master's land.

Created by [perfumed ignition]

2. My World

The world is moving fast around me,
I feel so slow, I can barely go on I feel so old,
And yet I know I am barely young
My movements seem so measured
I hardly stand on my own
I am to weak to continue to fight
and now all there is to do
Is wait for his icy touch
to take my breath away.

Created by [pegasus1000]

3. As I Lay Dying

It wasnt long before today
That life had its greatest plans for me
Long and healthy, I was to remain
Loved and wealthy, I was to stay
Held close and tight by those so dear
One vision, one future, it seemed so clear
But when the dawn broke this fateful morn
Life lost its grip on me for just one moment
Met by the hate of the unknown one
Met by the wrath of death's eternal scorn
Felled by the hand of fate dark brother
Soon to return to the earthy mother
As I lay dying, with my life flowing from me
The ground feels so warm, as my body grow cold
I sweat like its the summer, though it's as winter's night
I taste my blood when I try to breathe
It try to cry out but fail to scream
I struggle to move, but am unable, it seems
Is this what life had planned for me?
To live like there's no tommorrow
So unaware of that reality?
To me it all seems so pitiful
But as I lay dying
I realize that it's, in a sense
Really quite beautiful

Created by [Susie-Q]

4. Love Conquers Death, Assails the Grave

'For strong as death is love; It’s passion
      Enduring as the Grave'

And in truth eternal— your hand, my love
I pledge my heart to defend and save;
  —A sacred vow betrothed by flame and blood,
‘For Love!’ I say; such bind can’t wash away by any flood!
 Not from Sheol’s shore’s or Hades’ depths defended
  For with Spirit’s sword I’ll battle through;
Twas Hell’s dark dreary dungeon I ascended! And all for you!

  Ascend above these mortal men!
  For war & kings all carried on to graven ends,
and flesh so temp’ral blossoming, fleetly chases vanity
  on battlefields the Gardener eternally now tends.
My Love, let armies claim my body need’n edify
 as martyr’d love, the Cross’s Bride be freed upon eternal skies.

Love so quenches death’s jealousy, so now graves shall sing
      to wedding bells,
 Within St. Peter’s halls at World’s End;
     Love’s Victory song forever tells

They can lay my body unto the grave, but Love will take to soar
  For my heat, eternal, shall find your arms once more.

Created by [another brick in the wall]

5. An Emotional Title About Death And Stuff That Is Actually Longer Than The Poem Itself, Because I'm Good Like That.

Death is a thing;
A thing that will bring
The birds circling.

Created by [Mortified Penguin]

6. Drowning...

There's been a murder,
a gerbil was killed,
found in a sink,
barely filled.

Created by [Stephen]

7. Fear of the Unknown

When shall I die?
For a healthy perspective,
This is a question best left unanswered.
Death is meant to come at the end of our lives.

Created by [Nioniel]


Yawning shriveled parchment face with rotten eyes
Embalmed, leering, scaring away the nauseated flies
Disinterred and swinging on a rusting hook
Once the Pharaoh, now an anonymous crook
Your bombastic life filled with petty lies

Whip to the crack, flail to the slaves
Suffering under charlatan knaves
Knotted backs trembling, pocked with scars
Destinies written on the uncaring stars
Persecute the heathens from barbaric enclaves

Galloping fearless horses pull the chariot of wars
Sinewy soldiers savagely fierce, ridden with sores
Plucked from overcrowded farms on the Nile
Charging and trampling opponents for miles
Gluttonous officers beaming, rotten to the core.

Pyramids soaring inexorably to the clouds
Extorted tithing padding pharaohs under shrouds
Behind the scenes in the glorified palace
Pharaoh celebrates with Satan, raising the chalice,
Chuckling, triumphant and immeasurably proud.

Pharaoh overwhelms his noble-born foes
Satan’s imparted magic keeping them on their toes
Ungodly powers deposing the Deities and the High Priest
The purge has ended and the new “god” gets his special feast
Beautiful women dance and twirl in skimpy new clothes

Pharaoh’s “New” Egypt is a much changed place—
A never-ending stream of “relics” to deface.
The priests of Ra hide in catacombs,
Defiant of their impending dooms.
Satan pulls the real strings and sets the pace.

Oppressed Egyptians chafe under Pharaoh’s rule
Satan opportunistically concocts a new tool.
Pharaoh’s arrogance reaches astounding height
His staff is powerless without Satan’s might
Satan knows the time is ripe to depose the fool.

Counter-revolution breaks out across the land
Twenty years’ feeding from an autocratic Hand
Forced to worship unholy abominations
Banned from the old denominations
Time to sweep the Heretic under the sand!

Death and bloodshed on a tremendous scale;
Satan is beyond catching the tiger by the tale.
The Nile floods on cue, unleashing a plague
Pharaoh’s powers weaken, increasingly vague.
Satan stops his heart and covers up his trail.

Dead Pharaoh is mummified and sealed away
The Old Gods resume their national sway.
The new godly king purges and launches wars of “Good”
Patching up rifts; Dead Pharaoh was “misunderstood.”
Satan chuckles knowingly, waiting for another day . . .

In Guanajuato, Mexico of old, the dead were displaced
When the grave tax was unpaid, the cadavers were replaced.
Mummified by the elements and left for years by the score
Dangling in groups, indignity leaking from every sore
Their desperately impoverished families unsolaced.

Satan rises again in Guanajuato with brand new tricks
He switches the Pharaoh with a Mexican layer of bricks
The laborer rests at last, entombed in monumental glory
Pharaoh swings with peons, but that is not the end of his story.
Satan always needs piddling fools to get his unholy kicks.

Yawning shriveled parchment face with rotten eyes
Embalmed, leering, scaring away the nauseated flies.
Disinterred and swinging on a rusting hook
Once the Pharaoh, now an anonymous crook
Your bombastic life filled with petty lies.

Created by [Paul Doyle]. (c)2003 Paul J. Doyle. All Rights Reserved.


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