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Tonight, I met the winter breeze,
She flew as if a body deceased..

She told me stories of the past,
And talked about fories of the vast..

We were meeting after long,
So we sat there singing some old songs..

She still had many places to visit,
The dates she left me all in digits..

I saw her go,
My flaws followed so..

I was in a trance,
Could not see her prance..

I was dreaming,
When she was leaving..

And when she left,
I got swept..

By the waves,
In the caves..

I had died,
And my body had been pried..

She came again,
And took me in vain..

For my soul stayed,
Where my dreams had been slayed..
Tonight, I met the Winter Breeze.
Man Dec 2020
take heed,
you are dying

don't wait in watch, the sands fall,
crack the hourglass
and feel its grit,
run it, betwixt your fingers

brave the dim
and unlit
trails not as of yet marked
frontiers still foreign

but should you not,
in your death
let you find the peace
you never distilled through life
Man Nov 2020
you wanna **** yourself
so they put you where you'd rather die
where the fluorescents hum
and your life becomes eggshell, white
with pills you're fed
that make you emulate death
and the dead

eyes, that stare out
but barely do they do
and more oft, rarely too
instead, they turn within
and do as the dead
R Nov 2020
Things of the unknown is what you are
no will ever know you...
and i wont touch you again...
because i would only want more
my first love
they took it to the grave
one heart in her hands and not hers in mine.
Mohammed Arafat May 2020
When none is around me

I find only myself closer.

Silence, silence and then

our memories together appear

like a good-looking ghost

which I hear about in folklore.

It reminds me of the moments

that I can’t forget.

No worries, good memories

The ghost tells me not to weep

because time will not bring relief

after you are deceased.

It’s a big lie!

Mohammed Arafat
I wrote this poem to mourn the death of my grandmother who we painfully lost her on May 7th, 2020
Chris Jun 2019
Here I am
The shadow of a man
That never was.
David Hutton Mar 2019
The deceased piling up in battle,
Enough blood to fill more than one barrel.
Crows pillage the scene,
Nibbling on their cuisine.
From a distance you can hear them cackle.
Inspired by Vasily Vereshchagin's "The Apotheosis of War" painting.
John Stephenson Mar 2019
It's an anniversary,
The children are playing in the garden,
The Sun is shining bright,
On this day you walked toward me,
For the rest of our life.

The roses are in full bloom.
Our friends and families gathered.
In the Sun's warm glow, we partied in Paradise.
On the day we walked on together,
As Husband and Wife.

In Paradise we built our kingdom.
We thought it could last forever.
But, the crystal light has faded.
Now I walk alone.
Each step, less sure, with every passing day.

Our kingdom is no more but Paradise remains.
With fond memories of years gone by, I remember.
Solemnly and Sincerely I recall our vows.
With roses from the garden,
I kneel beside you now.
Anya Oct 2018
Death, loss, mourning
in many Western countries

purity, rebirth
in many parts of Eastern Asia

honor, patriotism
certain places

Other places

bright colors
At the,
of the

And yet,
I'm sure there are more
colors worn
thought of
these complex emotions
impossible to capture
No matter,
we try
The uniVerse Jul 2018
Words are dead!
there I said it
words are dead
the words in your head
are in the past
the words that you said
will not last
fireworks that attract the eye
liar's words in the mind
an explosion of language
and then silence
they do so much damage
and cause violence
chasing words
feeling tiredness
healing words
are band-aids on the soul
a soothing to the ears
they're dropped in empty holes
for who hears?
who really listens?
words are dead
we have visions
images of creation
words are no salvation
just pointers
pointing to the infinite
still they loiter
words we can't forget
we hold them to our chest
like lifeless children
we always do our best
but the words **** them
and now all that's left
is dead...
dead words.
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