"perishes" poems
705
Suspense—is Hostiler than Death—
Death—tho’soever Broad,
Is Just Death, and cannot increase—
Suspense—does not conclude—
But perishes—to live anew—
But just anew to die—
Annihilation—plated fresh
With Immortality—
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Holding a pen in hand, preparing pitch-black ink for a blank paper,
I begin with gentle, delicate movements, letting it slide over it.
One line follows another, one without any bother, any care to it.
A regular starshaped polygon, surrounded by a simple circle has been made, one which holds meaning to it, hidden underneath ink.
Some might gaze at it as a sign of a greater evil, heresy or worse,
Others might watch it in awe, a sign of protection a symbol of hope.
A maze with two ends has been made, each with its own belief.
However, my tired eyes, which have been worn, gaze at it and see beauty, the connection of each line contains grace, closed by the circle.
Thus a smile has been cast on my face, as I look at it another time,
Noticing how the black ink has taken the papers purity my cheering sight perishes, saddens in an instant, what I had drawn had become unrecognizable, as the paper spread the ink and distorted this image.
The broken in the light, moist and now fragile, drops through, in wonderous, ominous distraction, leaving a great hole in the middle.
Unable to be ever repaired the paper finds its trail into the trash,
A puddle left of what it was, mixed with the pitch black, had to be cleaned up, so that another attempt could be made, another try.
So I pick up my pen once again and connect the lines with a smile.
~ Umi
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Some say trust is a test,
And that honesty is the key to success.
Others believe trust is a fragile piece of glass,
And how you treat it is the test.
It can break easily and is hard to fix.
Can trust be an egg
And honesty it’s sharp edge?
I see trust as a heart,
And honesty it’s blood.
Together a body functions properly,
And it’s hard to separate the two.
Can you be trusted when you are not honest?
No because when one dies,
The other one perishes with it.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.
Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.
Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.
Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.
Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
"When a person is born it's a blessed time,
Albeit a person is in love it's a splendid era,
When that person perishes it is a bereaved era,
Albeit Love of two people expires it's a cataclysm,
Vestige as we used to sit there on the littoral,
As the dusk of the winds would blow the sand,
The sand pursues into your long black hair,
Visage your dark green eyes and a beauty of a smile,
All times I have enjoyed greatly also suffered greatly,
Times you loved me and alone on the shore,
It is an perpetual power that as my utopia,
Is me ichorous of our love moments together,
Afore us lies the port and a skimming ocean liner,
As we slowly see an alluvion gloom in the darkness,
Legions of souls drudged here in day and night,
Above gusting drifts the rainy constellation of stars,
As we gambol in our fervor of cognizance of love in our
Utopia Ichorous"
By Andrew Guzaldo 08/03/2018 © Posted HP/
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
The snow melted
As the sun rose up raging
Creating and destroying
All of its creations
She came by with a smile
Into the cold damp place
That was my heart
Filling up the space
She whispered quietly
Do you want to build a snowman?
Awakening from
the dust
Leading me into the open
Each time I heard her say
Do you want to build a snowman?
The sun and its storms
Can't destroy it all
Everything perishes eventually
Yet the last inch of you remains
That is what your heart contains
Deepening my
long lost trust
Of this world so frozen
Each time I heard her say
Do you want to build a snowman?
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
I am the family face;
Flesh perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
And leaping from place to place
Over oblivion.
The years-heired feature that can
In curve and voice and eye
Despise the human span
Of durance—that is I;
The eternal thing in man,
That heeds no call to die.
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For 939 years he is living
To live such a long long long life
I do not know if it is a curse or a blessing
Centuries swiftly passes somehow
Past to present, present to future
He was there before, he is here until now
Every death of friend or foe
He witnesses and will never forget
Left alone, soul is full of woe
The Goblin’s immortality
Was said to be a punishment
And never an eternal tranquility
The sword stuck in his heart
Is the key to death he longed for
Then only his life and misery will depart
It is only the Goblin’s bride
Can pull out the sword in his chest
So for centuries he searched for a wife
Until fate finally reveals itself
One look, ahh, a lovely bride he met
Sad love he utters to himself
This love will cause him death
But after a long time, it made him feel alive
Now he don’t want to lose his breath
But his choice will only bring demise
And his newly found happiness
Will only last until his bride dies
Pull out the sword, the Goblin will turn into ashes
Let him live and his bride will die
What a tragic story, love until one perishes
*“I have to disappear to make you smile
This is the decision I have to make,
I have to end my life”*
It was long ago planned by a diety
Immortality not a reward but a punishment
A sad love, it was their destiny
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
The rotting corpse of a dilapidated morning glory
Waxes poetic in the dry summer air-
Its wilted petals droop heavy
With the subtle presence of something
Close to the end, but of a different hue.
A sweet yet sickly scent
Engulfs the neglected shrubbery,
That so gracefully collapses onto
A rusted, barbed wire fence,
Caving in beneath the heavy traces of morning dew
Atop intricate spider webs and fallen leaves.
Its bitter laments of despair
Sound out to the iridescent moon,
Cursing god in all his putrid grace.
Somewhere in the night, the sad wail echoes
Tumbling off canyon walls and over priced gas stations,
Until all that's left is a hollow boom
And the faint whisper of the Holy Ghost.
The pagan wind slowly creeps by,
Pushing the flowers further down,
Until their stems take on the silhouette
Of the stooped backs of apologetic sinners,
Face down at the altar, accepting their worthy penance.
Dawn waits beyond the bend,
Her seductive fingers trace the fragile outline
Of the sleeping buds, blushing a faint pink
The color of a newborn child-
Beauty is only real within the tender moments
Leading up to it's intricate destruction.
Is this how it feels to exist?
Beating up against forgiveness
With bloodied palms, imprinted with the
Wilted outline of an indifferent morning glory-
Too alive to ever experience eternity,
For, in accepting life,
All else perishes.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
death is coming, it is a dark point on the horizon
it will be here, sooner than expected, the planet is dying
why are you preparing for a future, the future
why are you denying it is happening, sticking your head in the sand
going about, living carefree, when your children will suffer, millions will die
do you need a quatrain, a burning bush, to see the horror racing towards us
nostradamus didn’t see it, but we did, like a slow train wreck
the air will burn your lungs, the oceans scald your flesh
by the time you react, you will have reached the point of no return
your children are an army of dead men walking
their bodies catching up to their environmental fate
it is too late to cry, it is time to die
what will we do, how will we choose, who lives, who perishes
your cozy lives will disintegrate in social chaos as individual fight for survival
our former rules and norms will vanish, as the strong and ruthless vanquish
you will witness horrors, etched into your mind, re-dreamt every night
scream and cry, it could have been avoid, such is the tragedy of the commons
complacency of the masses, mass graves of the innocent
gods will die, civilizations will fall, as you huddle, shaking in a dark corner
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 12:01 PM UTC
And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings,
That appeared once, still wet
As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
“We are, ” they said, even as their pages
Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame
Licked away their letters. So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant,
Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
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Elements synthesize
Establishing brilliance
Mosaic
Sound elevates
Electric symphonies
Frequency
Vocals ascend
Ricocheting amour
Phoenix
Speech perishes
Shock scarves
Mastery
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:41 PM UTC
Hops and topsy-turvy jumps ― blurred movement
muddles across the dewy meadow floor,
as though dawn brushes away the sandman’s magic
from the corner of sleepy eyes,
to cast an enchanting spell
A sudden hazy yet abrupt stop…
hastily, halting , frozen motionless
Stillness, as if some final destination has been reached…
Neck stretched and craning,
tilted with an eye to mother earth ;
a canted focus beyond interruption
In the blink of an eye,
with a vigor too rapid to capture,
as the nowness of urgency flashes ―
She stretches the earthworm
with the grasp of subsistence
knowing after fall becomes the long winterlude.
The morning sun illuminates the glow of the native Maple’s
glorious fiery orange and yellow color palette
A steady stream of animation rushes in and out
of the giant tree’s golden splendor
Abundance perishes with the seasonal gardens decay.
Mornings of blueberry and strawberry feasts
have left the red breasted robbers foraging
for the last rotting apples the deer have left behind.
Harbingers of spring…
Blueberry sneakers…
Gleaners of fall and winter..
“Teeek” “tuk” “tuk” “Tseep”....
fills the overhead air
with a beautifully chaotic verve
The flock returns repeatedly to and fro the towering Maple
to the ripened cornucopia of scarlet berry clusters of the Mountain Ash
The Robin’s flock ravage and gorge on the plentiful delights
Soon the crimson berries fuel of flight will disappear
as if it were only an unspoken allusion
of the passing seasons
The pearl gray sky is an ominous backdrop
for the fickle fleeting migrants
Daylight fades as the flock disappears
into a break in the clouds
fleeting unto the ominous pending winter sky…
In the blink of an eye ... life’s senescent seasons
transform the stormy whirling winds of change
bearing the golden Autumn leave’s splendor
across the rolling vista
like a higgledy-piggledy murmuration
of a migrating beautiful mess
The naked rooted scaffold’s branches stretch
across the sprawling tapestry of the wooded sanctuary.
Winter flocks of Thrush and Robins,
arrive on a frosty new dawn
Red breast feathers puff with the morning sun’s rays,
warming the tree tops leaning toward the southern sky;
Their journey here and now,
from distant mountainous horizons,
is part of a soul’s sacred circle of life…
November rivers ...the final autumn entry of 2017
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 10:26 AM UTC
Elements synthesize
Establishing brilliance
Mosaic
Sound elevates
Electric symphonies
Frequency
Vocals ascend
Ricocheting amour
Phoenix
Speech perishes
Shock scarves
Mastery
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 9:51 AM UTC
Aflutter
by Michael R. Burch
"This rainbow is the token of the covenant, which I have established between me and all flesh."—Yahweh
You are gentle now, and in your failing hour
how like the child you were, you seem again,
and smile as sadly as the girl
(age ten?)
who held the sparrow with the mangled wing
close to her heart.
It marveled at your power
but would not mend.
And so the world renews
old vows it seemed to make: false promises
spring whispers, as if nothing perishes
that does not resurrect to wilder hues
like rainbows’ eerie pacts we apprehend
but cannot fail to keep.
Now in your eyes
I see the end of life that only dies
and does not care for bright, translucent lies.
Are tears so precious? These few, let us spend
together, as before, then lay to rest
these sparrows’ hearts aflutter at each breast.
Published by The Lyric, Poetry Life & Times and The Eclectic Muse
NOTE: This is a poem about a couple committing suicide together. The “eerie pact” refers to a bible verse about the rainbow being a “covenant,” when the only covenant human beings can depend on is the original one that condemned us to suffer and die. That covenant is always kept perfectly. Keywords/Tags: Gentle, heart, flutter, aflutter, death, dying, suicide, euthanasia, pact, tears, hospice, hemlock, arsenic, rest in peace
Mar 4, 2020
Mar 4, 2020 at 3:42 AM UTC
The world is burning,
Matter dissolves —
Forms collapse —
the temples, the empires,
the names etched on marble.
Even the body,
faithful companion,
bends to the law of fading.
But what is form
but the shadow of becoming?
And yet,
essence remains —
not the monuments,
not the crowns,
but the invisible pulse
that binds us.
It survives the fire,
travels through the ashes,
and whispers:
“You are more than what perishes.
You are the song,
not the instrument.”
The cities fall into sparks,
the towers bow into ash,
and still the stars
scatter their infinite silence.
What is consumed here
is reborn elsewhere,
for the cosmos has no waste,
only transformation.
We are flames too,
brief torches of awareness
wandering through the night of time.
Our suffering is not the end,
but the beginning of vision.
Through the smoke of endings
we glimpse the open horizon—
where fire becomes light,
and light becomes love.
The world in flames
is not the world perishing,
but the world remembering
its eternal source.
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 9:00 AM UTC
A poison mixed with selfish bliss
Safe, yet afraid of what we might have missed
Such answers dangle before our eyes
Our faces closed tight in foolish pride
IF ONLY WE COULD
REACH BEYOND BORDERS
IF ONLY WE KEEP
MOVING FORWARD
While we pretend not to notice, they die in vain
She was but a young girl on a runaway train...
Is it fear or hate that feeds the cruel
Innocence perishes when supremacy rules...
Fear and oppression, stubborn as a mule
Poor and hungry beg, borrow and steal
Blinded by the greed of a broken land
As another lost child slips through our hands...
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
The sorrows are drowning with every last gulp
Afternoon dies quickly and the night is born
The guilt lies in every selfish glass
then suddenly, her purse perishes.
The moon, so alone. Robbed of all his dignity.
No one passes his way apart from
an unaware, ungrateful cloud.
Gone.
Gone, vanishing from this cruel universe
The moon, still alone
wanted to fall from the sky
And then she returned home.
A star
Not living up to her name.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
Good things to those who do not heed,
The words of darkness but are freed,
To
the infinite
light.
Not on the road of evil, nor in the seat of shame,
But the best of life is for belief in His name,
Meditation
day
and night.
A tree that's firmly rooted, on the river's border,
A living infinity of diligent labor, of order,
This
is
the good.
Dark ones are not so, flowing like chaff in the wind,
They will not stand when judged, those that sinned,
Before
assemblies
of saints.
He knows the way of good, our Lord and master,
And as through His great power, The Dark perishes faster,
The Dark
will be
no more.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
Maybe, just maybe
All of us are lonely people
Gathered on the sea shore
With a hope that other grain of sand
Could keep us sane enough
To continue living
And that the rushing ocean
Will neither perishes us
Nor opens up the craters
Inside our thick skin
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 5:49 AM UTC
How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps
The disembodied spirits of the dead,
When all of thee that time could wither sleeps
And perishes among the dust we tread?
For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain
If there I meet thy gentle presence not;
Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again
In thy serenest eyes the tender thought.
Will not thy own meek heart demand me there?
That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given?
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer,
Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven?
In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind,
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere,
And larger movements of the unfettered mind,
Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here?
The love that lived through all the stormy past,
And meekly with my harsher nature bore,
And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last,
Shall it expire with life, and be no more?
A happier lot than mine, and larger light,
Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy will
In cheerful homage to the rule of right,
And lovest all, and renderest good for ill.
For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell,
Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll;
And wrath has left its scar--that fire of hell
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.
Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name,
The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye,
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?
Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home,
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this--
The wisdom which is love--till I become
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?
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My words no longer hold meaning
My voice has long not been heard
I cannot seem to fathom living
If all I say will be lost to the world
There's is no point, it's useless
To try and fight societies lies
Instead I'll hold my tongue and swiftly
Seal my lips, and close my eyes
I'll be blind to the worlds destruction
Blind to my own demise
There's nothing here I wish to save
Not one thing has come to mind
But if I perish, will you follow?
**** this wasn't meant for you
But it seems that without a doubt
All my thoughts are yours, through and through
So I ask again, if I perish
Will you be quick to follow my fate?
I'm only asking because I'm scared,
Scared of societies growing haste
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
Tears of blood, predicting a flood;
Worn out soul, screeching in mud.
Splendid mornings turn out to rust;
Where shedding tears is considered must.
Sparkling eyes chasing crystals in the sky;
Thou each gaze pulls me strongly, making a way to die.
Strings of emotion tuned to deviate and devastate;
Crumbled heart seeking the happiness over-delayed.
The beauty of my soul vanishes away;
Thou enchant a spell to stand out in the breaking day.
Abhorring the wounds, all over the heart;
Surrendering to the agony, caused by the poisoned dart.
Thou snatched my life, scorned the blissful smile;
Blessing with the everlasting pain, in thee own style.
World around me perishes as thee left me forlorn;
Sweet smells bitter, flowers turn into painful thorns.
Invisible thee, but apparent to me;
Seeking thou in Eden, finding the glee.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC
In the timeless dark waiting
One awakes and His first wish
To know the kind king who rules
Where he may reside where love
Is Sovereign over all. He sees it
Not nor yet feels only that it is true
A skeleton of logic, a tautology of
Being that where he is all is good
The seed of imdination that even if
Forget still is.and still lives in the
Light that which only perceives its
Shadow. Have you not heard spoken
The Word: "Forgive them they know
not what they do" For there is beneath
The very beast the child that was and
Still is. More than this I say that if the
Great world be evil it is but a sham and
Illusion that perishes before the Truth
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 1:24 PM UTC