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A life after death
prayerfully sought in churches —
Mushrooms in tree stumps
In this dim night
before the dawn of All Saints,
no need to take fright
of the spirits you acquaint —
for they are merely the ones who went on before.

Beloved dead whom we miss
reenter the world of the quick
and blow us a kiss
with a treat but no trick —
as we celebrate their return from the dark shore.
Skyler H Oct 17
I'm running out of love
Have never had enough
One day when I'm done,
I hope what I have done
I did it out of love.
And yes they were the best of times ,
of love and tears and
memory .
Where dreamt I slept black
granite slab deep ,
cold and sans regret .

Night-birds sang above my
head ,
dead lovers called my
name .
While in my lonely dreaming ,
perfect love became the grave .

So despised without good
cause ,
I determined to sleep on .
The rider on white stallion
showed me poetry and
song .

But when last came time to
leave that place ,
and journey beyond that
vale ,
I prayed for Him to keep me
fast ,
I prayed I would not fail .

Attila said where he had
passed ,
no grass would ever grow .
It grew instead upon his grave
where children seeds
had sown .

Now forging pathways to this
world ,
sacred numbers were my guides .
Moon rise over still water ,
where time holds back the
tide .
Emery Feine Sep 26
I hope that deer in the road
In the afterlife has fun
I hope those moths by the light
Get an eternity of sun

I hope that lonely old lady
Gets to reunite with her lover
I hope that man who had to sit in the rain
Will always, above his head, have a cover

I hope the rainbow everyone admires when they see
I hope its colors never fade
I hope the dolls the girls wanted
I hope they never stop being made

I hope the ocean waves they splashed in
I hope they never stop being rode
I hope the stories that inspire others
I hope they never stop being told

And I hope when I take my final breath
I get to see that beautiful sky one last time
And I hope this dream is never taken away
Even though it was never mine
this is my 21st poem, created on 8/18/23.
Erwinism Sep 14
Not long ago
the twilight called you into her arms;
into to the depths of the unknown,
left your name in the care of this world
sweetest sound that leapt from your mother’s lips
and ours.
The tides where you are is unperturbed
by the mortal wind,
and in the clouds a garden sprawls
and thrives at the tip of its universe.
We can only imagine.
If such letter scribbled here shines a light; if our candles burn
may you find it a star in the night.


You are no more,
no more to share this borrowed life;
no more treading in the stream of time;
no more but with me still, stirring yet ever still,
shattered heart never heals.
as the last rays of the sun through the window of your room dim,
Your soul is lit up in our dreams,
as though a candle that eternally burns,
I bid time, return
for you my father had taken flight,
silence lingers in restless nights,
where you be, you be
for we shall have our time,
to reflect on this life; the endless sea
for too, shall we; in the crossroads meet the end of our journey: an inevitable destiny
and where you be, we be.
Asmita Ray Aug 29
A withered leaf falls free.
Free of a century lamenting
And spent his time repenting
"Freedom from life",
He cries with glee.
T Chase Aug 15
What happens when you are dead,
about this much has been said.
Most people think there is just alive and dead,
But perhaps they are incorrectly lead.
Another state I fear most,
is becoming what is called a ghost.
Not alive and not dead in afterlife,
A state where there may be strife.
Where they stay near their previous life,
So there are three states: alive on earth,
spirit after death in afterlife, and ghost.
A ghost is where you may not know you are gone,
gone to the great beyond.
So if you die head for the light,
you may fly there like a kite.
You can't take it with you,
whether it be 1 million or two,
So after one dies they find they will rise,
'the last bus out is leaving then,
they should get on it if they can.
[Afterlife]
/ ˈɑːftəˌlaɪf/
A conscious existence after death

as the sound of drowning in a grave, quietly plays- maybe the
world is already over; and I’m failing to recognize it
anymore, or any less, of what it all was long before;
-as the love you sometimes seek will break you
the trust you rest in someone’s hand, is the hand of friends
who will betray you; some of the dreams you believe in,
will have your family reject you, and those who wish you well,
will quietly judge you- when you immediately fail

as everything tells us, time stands still when in times of grief
the silent lips of sounding out your pain in sleepless nights;
as by the few stars I visit; I sometimes hope to join them
as a host; choosing to still shine in a surrounding darkness

alas, I’m more so a falling star- clad in gravity, my stellar
bones are each pulled apart- but apart from feeling an aversive disgrace;
the picture of your face, does fill me with grace- that even in
this life’s grave, I could die a pretty smile- as the one you always
showed, for in my afterlife, it would be something special to behold
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