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Mark Wanless Sep 2020
the human race is
mother and i must suckle
or die a rare death
Daisy Ashcroft Sep 2020
Roses bloom
When summer comes to call
But aren't we forgetting,
In spite of its strength,
The petals still fall.

The summer hides
When roses turn sour
We mourn the loss
Of its delight and threat
But it's still just a flower.

Now roses bloom
On your shirt and, Doll,
All the summers in the world
Couldn't make your flower of blood
Worth it all.
Isabella Sep 2020
Thunderstorms rage outside my window
Lightning blinks at it watches me cry
If I drowned in the rain, no one would know
Amidst the chaos nobody would notice me die
Rewrite of the last two lines from a poem I wrote a few years ago..
kiran goswami Sep 2020
Would they have still been remembered,
if they lived for each other instead of dying...
Maria Mitea Sep 2020
Today,
I just wanna die in your arms,

I hope that you took the CPR course
to save me!
****
Right hand, labours on. Burdened
by the clay of her body  
A stubborn limb.  
In tempered skin.

Still, her left
Passed in Spring.

It's gentle palm
Curls open.
Leaning into the
surly revolt of her body.

Summer swirled.
A haze of sun.
And delicate
forget-me-nots

Autumn threatens floods.
Swollen clouds loom overhead.
We brace for bitter winds
In the Winter of her life.

And the rain pours.
And the rivers carve a map.

And the days pass.
Searching the blur of her body.
A ****** wristwatch throbs
Pulsing past a beating heart
Mocking mottled skin.

And the rain pours.
And strength settles into the seat.

A soft creak of leather
Warms the room.
whispers of my presence
Saturate the cell walls
of her coma.

And the rain pours.
And unearths an infinite truth

A graceful dance. She flees
The wreckage of her broken body,
Expired lungs exhale all suffering.
A parting gift.

And the light guides.
And she sets sail.
And the light guides.

A compass tears through swollen skies.

And the rain pours.
And the floods rise.

And the banks burst.
And the rain pours.

And the rapids
Drag me into the gutter.


By Anna Grace Du Noyer
A poem about the end of life. Influenced by the profound event of my Mums death and unexplainable higher existence of which I'm.now sure. And being left behind. : the poem contains graphic imagery of end of life experiences. Caution is advised if this could affect you negativly.
Juno Aug 2020
whatever happens, promise
you’ll remember what it’s like

to fight for something even if
youre not sure if you’ll survive.

to beg for mercy, plead for help,
but no one bats an eye.

so take a second, “momento mori”;
remember, you will die.
i haven’t been very active recently because of covid, but i hope to write more now.
ps. this poem may or may not be about a fictional character.
Mrs Timetable Aug 2020
Don't bring me petals
Plucked to perish
Leave the flowers
In the ground to thrive
I would rather have
Your words to cherish
Planted in me grounded
Always blooming
With surprise
It only took one rose and one poem for "us" to be.  I requested "no more flowers please",  but many many many more poems. I got my wish.
Pockets Aug 2020
I think I'm gonna **** my alarm clock
Then father time
Spend the rest of my days
Trying to catch up with these children of mine
I wanna be the dad I never had
Before I get to old to do it
Then I wanna take my wife by her hands
wind her up one last time
And make love
until we both die
Pockets Aug 2020
Here I sit
Feeling like ****
Eyes red
***** blue
Reading haikus
Drinking cheap *****
Tryin’ to find that spark
If not to write
Then at least light my cigarette
So I can smother myself out
And go on to bed
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