If I should die,
And you should live—
And time should gurgle on—
And morn should beam—
And noon should burn—
As it has usual done—
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie—
That Commerce will continue—
And Trades as briskly fly—
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene—
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Basketball stands for war or battle.
That's why I think about the players'
personalities, in my foxhole or squad.
Danny and Ben are fast and smart. Dan
especially can pass making him master
and commander. To defeat them as we did
is very satisfying. Ben's five year old son
is intelligent but distant. Disdains to answer
my question Why are you you?
                                                       But I'm not here
to catalogue the men's personalities.
I like them. But each of us has moved on
many times, when  _______  suddenly died
the games went on with hardly a mention
and his name has since been forgotten.

But even this, absolute mortality
of not just our bodies but our names
and souls is not what I came
to talk about. Yesterday, between games,
I asked Joe how Molly his daughter likes
the high school. He mounted an impassioned
defense of reading as the indispensable skill
when I suggested math, the scientific method
and history are essential too.
                                                 Also between games
Bob diffidently asked why my kids are bald.
I was moved by the care he took to satisfy
his curiosity, concerned the subject might be
difficult. He's a political science teacher so
I took the opportunity to ask What ails
the republic? Of course I answered myself
wanting mostly to hear myself talk about Iraq
and how empire is self-correcting. For once I was amusing
I thought, treating the subject with a light touch
heretofore lacking.

But none of this is what I came to say.
A new guy, very big and strong, a
bulldozer under the boards with a good
outside shot if needed got into a dispute
with the other Bob who likes to tell people
what to do sometimes, about an offensive
foul Bob called which we almost never do.
The new guy said If you can't take it don't
play under the boards which is what I say
when I'm pissed and don't give a shit.
Bob said You've been pushing and shoving me
all day. I said He doesn't want to be
pushed and shoved which got a wry
smile out of Danny as I put the ball in play.
Noah A Baker Oct 2014
Everyone knew, including him,
that if you sat too close to the TV, your eyes would die.
But nobody knew, but him,
that if you sit too far away, you miss out on the experience.
It's why he plays!
very very very short especially for me but yeah. I felt like the picture had been taken.
Ashley Somebody Apr 2014
Sometimes I feel like
Every time, I die; but it
Makes me more alive.
Saylor Kay Dec 2015
The life of an anorexic
Is never written in stone
One day you may not wake up
And leave your family alone

The life of an anorexic
Is a lonely on at that
You don't go out with friends
For they might make you fat

The life of an anorexic
Is not one to pine for
I hate myself with every bite
And it makes me want to cry more

The life of an anorexic
Is a life that I will die for.
My love, if you die and I don't--,
let's not give grief an even greater field.
No expanse is greater than where we live.

Dust in the wheat, sand in the deserts,
time, wandering water, the vague wind
swept us like sailing seeds.
We might not have found one another in time.

This meadow where we find ourselves,
O little infinity! we give it back.
But Love, this love has not ended:

just as it never had a birth, it has
no death: it is like a long river,
only changing lands, and changing lips.
Jessie Sep 2010
When I die,
I don't want to be buried.
I don't want a casket.
I don't want a tombstone.

I don't really want much of a funeral.
I simply want whomever desires
To say something about me
To do so
(Whether it's good, bad, or funny).

I want to be burned
In a cardboard box,
And as I'm being cremated,
I want someone
To read a poem that I have written
For that very occasion.

When I'm all turned to ashes,
I want them to put me
In a cheap little container
And throw my ashes into the wind.
Maybe over a field, a forest, or the ocean--
Whatever, so long as it's windy there.

I don't want my loved ones to have a
Specific place to visit me

I want to be the one
Who visits my loved ones

So I can give them kisses
When the wind
Brushes their cheeks.
i wonder if i can put this poem in my will...
The Dedpoet Apr 2016
Die into me,

Every kiss is a prayer
As I whisper a prophesy
         To your body.

          The night will keep us
As we constellate our passion.

I die into you,

      I await you on the other side,
There open my soul
      And read the inscription:

   He died a thousand times,
Reborn inside her,
    The Sacrificial Lover.
Rockie Apr 2015
Blood, Lungs and Alcohol
Addiction, Hell and Help
How much more
Can Aidan take
Before he decides to die?
Aidan is the main character of something I am currently writing with an alcohol/drug addiction. I've written it here as a poem :)
Nanna Harrow Aug 2014
Some people think
So much about dying
They forget in their lives
They are living

Some people live
So much for their lives
They forget, in time,
They’re going to die.

Some people end the lives of others,
Symbolically or literally
Some, the former initially,
And the latter not much after.

Some people decide to end the lives
Of their flesh, blood, the essence of themselves...
Some say that is the only sin
An all-loving God could never forgive.

Some die before they live.
Some half-way through existence
Most live before they die
But some die to live again, they try

Some die as children, untouched by shame or corruption
Some die with children, hearts swollen with the love their lives taught them
Some pass in their sleep, life with only regrets
Or not a trace of them at all

I suppose I cannot say.
Answer this, if I may ask
When the time comes,

In your place to bask,
When you are about to die
Can you be sure that, once,
You had truly been alive?
Ky Blackstar May 2015
They say that when an artist dies, God lets them paint the sky and lately I've been thinking a lot about what my sunset would look like
Mila Berlioz Jan 2016
To die is an art
How your heart stops beating
How your organs stop working,
You disappear.

To die,
Many people wish they were dead,
Yet they do nothing about it.
I believe dying is a beautiful art.

I, I wish I were dead, yet I don't do a thing about it,
Just committing masochism,
What should I do?
Audrey Maday Jan 2015
Scars on my heart
Scars on my hips
I think I'll die
With your name on my lips.
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