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Zywa Mar 28
Death is put away,

or it is lost, forgotten --


again and again.
Poem "Dis wat die dood doen" ("That's what death does", 2016, Ronelda Kamfer)

Collection "Here &Now&"
Two souls have come together,
two magical beings.
What does the universe want,
to stir such a commotion?

Everything will be allowed,
when their time arrives.

Perhaps they are not the only ones
protecting themselves.

Perhaps beings from beyond
are shielding them too.

For they share the same fears,
and all will unfold in the earthly realm,
when they choose.

They were everything,
they were nothing.

Everything was mystical,
fire,
and air.

They moved from the battle of life
to the refuge of disaster.

Only souls,
finally found.

They were the dream
they never dreamed,
but that the universe
had already decreed.
dead poet Jan 13
death is humble;
death does not discriminate;
death is everything,
but life.
David P Carroll Oct 2024
In the graveyard
silence reigns
Darkness all around
And loved ones
Memories linger never gone
And your all in our hearts
All day long

And the grass grows wild
Between the graves sadness
In my eyes as the
Names etched in stone faded with age
A reminder of life's final stage
And the moonlight casts
A ghostly glow over the graveyard tonight
For in death there is a stark reminder
To cherish each precious moment
we are given so
God bless you all.
Graveyard 🪦🪦🪦🪦
Zywa Dec 2023
Dying means little

without fantasy, else it's --


about everything.
Novel "Voyage au bout de la nuit" ("Journey to the End of the Night", 1932, Louis-Ferdinand Céline) - "Quand on a pas d'imagination, mourir c'est peu de choses, quand on en a, mourir c'est trop."

Collection "Over"
Zywa Jan 2023
The Friesian horses,

stepping in black cloths with hoods --


and snorting with life.
After reading the poem "Paarden met mantels" ("Horses with cloths", 1994, Arjen Duinker)

Collection "PumicePieces"
Dave Robertson Sep 2021
No age
no age at all
never a justification
a reason to placate us
just an implacable, non-negotiable theft
of love, histories and too much still to be

the solace, a skinflint’s compensation,
is that for a short while you had them
and they had you
and that was life

but that’s as much as you get
to try to make it through
G Oct 2020
• • •
And I wonder who's luckier —
the living hoping for his death
or the dead wishing for another breath?
• • •
When you are smiling in your dreams.
I am here crying myself to sleep.

When you are having a good laugh.
I am here practicing a smile to hide my scars.

When you are enjoying your day.
I am here wanting the memories of you to go away.

When you are having fun and getting wild.
I am here cooped up in my bed loosing my mind.

When you are there experiencing.
I am here regretting.

When you are having the time of your life.
I am laying here wanting to end mine.
KNOWER Aug 2020
if I were the Scar to your Mufasa,
then I'd re-write that whole disaster
and be th' one to go to th' hereafter,
for you, I gladly opt to be the martyr
(s)he who sheds  blood with me is my brethren
😶
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