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Fran Dec 2015
He knows sweet and sour words
To lure the wondering souls
The voice as loud and clear
Yet rather be thrown

With nothing but a waving hand
he passed the soul to the bridge
Saying his last farewell
was all he needed to finish

Yet living the un-dead
whimpering and crying
For that lost soul
was not meant to be dead.
Daisy Arcos Oct 2015
O, Lord Death
Whose skeletal wings unfurl towards the void
Protecting the balance of existence
The universal dichotomy

O, Wise Reaper
Who does not discriminate nor distinguish
And with unwavering certainty
Decides the fate of all

O, Dark Master
Whose hallowed name is the purest form of music
And surely the most haunting
Resonating in my dreams

O, Fallen King
Whose touch unbinds me from man's ignorance
If only they could understand
Your gift is that of freedom

O, Soul Shepherd
Your paradise was not lost but merely misplaced
Yet fear not, wayfaring lord
For I have discovered its truth
Phil Lindsey Jun 2015
Stranger things have happened
Than what you’re about to hear
So I swear that this is all the truth
And it happened close by here
A young girl lost her way one night
She was working midnight shift
When a stranger saw her wandering
And he offered her a lift.
She was trusting and she climbed right in
To the black sedan he drove.
He asked where she was headed
She replied, “To Shelter Grove.”
The driver said, “I’ll take you there.
Just tell me where to go.”
She said, “Around the corner, there’s a hidden drive,
You’ll want to take it slow.
There’s a gate, but it will open, and
A clearing just ahead.
There’s a gravestone with your name on it.
I’m afraid, Sir, you are dead.”

The driver turned and stared at her
She stared back with evil grin
He was terrified but didn’t know
The danger he was in.
He reached out to grab her slender arm
But he closed his fist on air
Somehow she had vanished
She simply wasn’t there.
Now his heart was pounding loudly
He could hardly drive the car,
He used his phone to call his wife who said,
“We’re all wondering where you are!
You see your brother called an hour ago
Your father passed today
They said that he was sleeping when
The angels carried him away.
Your family signed the papers, and
He’s at the funeral home
I never heard of it before,
Some place called Shelter Grove.”

That night I had an awful dream
The wandering girl’s to blame,
She said, “I was sent to take your father,
But I mixed up the name.”  
Phil Lindsey  6/5/15
Why do we envision the Grim Reaper to be a man?
Lee Banks Aug 2014
She writes like the grim reaper
About pain, loss and tortured souls
Yet she has the sweetest smile
That could make a broken man whole

She writes about the lonely girl
Who cries for her broken heart
She says she's never been in love
For her, lying seems like an art

She has a quirky sense of humour
Her laugh is a sweet melody
She write about being lost and alone
Shes always surrounded by family

She writes about the child that cries
While his parents fight downstairs
She's lives such a happy life
With no sign of pain and despair

Sometimes when she speaks to me,
She seems so young and naive
Her poems carry such soul and depth
That they came from her is hard to believe

How can she understand my darkness
If she's never felt pain or desolation?
Why do her words ring true to me
When I know it's just her imagination?  

Her sad rhymes always make me cry
I just can't figure her out
Is there some sorrow that she hides deep?
Or does she just twist her words around?
Each and every day;
I meet someone new,
Take them with me
To send them away.
They all knew me.
Knew me by name,
Yet they don't know
The one curse I carry.
No matter who I meet,
No matter who I like;
I cannot settle
I cannot love.
My curse is that;
I, the Grim Reaper
Must be forever LONELY.

— The End —