10 Dark Death Poems That Will Rattle Your Soul

1. The Rainbow Of Death

Can you hear the curse of death?
As a dying rainbow confronts the black cloud ahead.
The whistle of the wind defines the moment instead;
as death begins swallowing up the dead.
Break for the hills,
run to the valleys,
climb the mountain that will kill your suffering breath.
Remember when life was good in your youth?
Before your bones began to fail with all the abuse.
Time has halted;
your muscles have revolted.
The mind shuts down while your memories defaulted.
You, my friend, are at an end –
for the rainbow you see is only pretend.

2. Composed From The Shadows

This book was written by the hand of death!
While a black of crows – hide in a storm of beds.
A book that brings the curse of death
to all who look upon it
while life is at rest.
Composed from the shadows!
The blackness is numb;
your days are numbered as you chant this song.
The crows await a filthy feast as you work out the riddle of this verse to complete.
A book of darkness;
a book of truths;
a moment where life could or maybe should.
The key is silver;
the lock is black;
let life go!
So death can give back.

3. The breath of death

We bleed;
we need;
we agreed to this greed;
we dine;
we drink;
we stand alone and stare;
we romance;
we chance;
we fantasize with death!
Because in the end, we are all just a single breath.

4. Life Rots

Rotting apples with wasps feasting.
Brown bananas with flies retreating.
A fox in the night is ripping black bin bags open.
Cats are eating a chicken casket after Sunday dinner.
A white owl is gobbling a slaughtered mouse, happy, sitting on the evening fence.
The brown rat is running for the bushes after stealing bread.
A giant cow jawbone is found in the dirty ground.
The tired young man died on the motorway bridge and was found.
Zombied humans are eating out of plastic bins.
Death is everywhere!
Take a look inside –
don’t be ignorant about what you find.

death-poems-book
Check out the complete anthology on Amazon – Death Composed From The Shadows.

5. Her Death Stare

Her gaze hides from reality
because she is here, but her soul was not.

She has the ability to look straight through beings
while defining the sense of seeing
as she keys her energy into this moment of bleeding.

She gazed upon reality as the world watched.
She was here, but she couldn’t touch.

You meet them,
you see them,
you ponder on their dreams
because so few have the ability of a gaze
that breaks existence for all that’s it’s got.

6. A Flag Of Blood

The blood of men filled the lands
for they stood and bleed
for honour and respect.
They held the flags;
they died in the grass
so few could shed a tear at last.

7. The last year of nan

A woman who laughed in the face of the night,
for it scared her to remember a young sons fate.
With age,
she awaited his gentle face as for the witches who looked after her final days.
She cursed them with swear words of a bitter taste;
for they starved her,
tied her and made a mockery of her face.
She didn’t deserve such a pitiful place,
something that awaits most of us with a filthy disgrace.
Young grandsons looked on and didn’t understand;
this chosen grace as their Mum and uncle lined up this place.
Now, as I, of maturity and knowledge,
look back to all the magnificent times with nan.
All I can do is shed a tear for her plan.
Was it ignorance, evil or deaths mighty plan?
A woman with stature, magnificence and a smile that can.
If it weren’t for her,
these words wouldn’t be mastered on this canvas;
a dedication of memories to Josephine O’Toole.
Taken by death in the blackness of his arms.

8. A Cloud Of Dreams

Look into your dreams!
Beyond where the clouds form a memory of your screams.
Look into your fragile mind.
Does it deliver you into this decaying time?
Keep painting the pictures of your brain turning outside in.
Are you ready for reality to fall in?
I didn’t think so;
the dark is already in.

9. Savage Tears

Her savage tears broke god-kings into primitive beings with eyes that tore down worlds;
making the essence of beauty for the universal code
as the divine command the galaxies into twirls.
Mortals can’t see beyond their dream world,
a place built as a prison to feed the urge of deaths disposition.

10. She Cursed Me

She cursed me with her sins;
she hurt me with promises that could never begin;
she abused life to see if it could withstand her tonic;
she kissed the sky with whispers of denial;
she wanted more when she had it all;
she lost her plans amid life;
she spoke words that have never been heard;
she held her hands up with the afterlife;
she was unique as her beauty didn’t need to speak;
she understood why she was here;
she wondered until death knocked her off her feet;
she fell;
she fought;
she made little of men that hacked her curse.

Comments

  1. Joe

    Crepe Hanger
    With the prospect, of imminent death
    creeping towards, that final breath.
    Out of respect, or age-old myth
    windows draped, black as pitch.
    Bell tolls, as the Reaper nears
    cast away, consuming fears.
    Parlor windows, creped in black
    by this way, you won`t be back.
    Crepe it may, or may not bleed
    draped in black, as life recedes.
    Lined and tufted, velvet bed
    pre-intended, for a head.
    Parlor reeks, of fresh cut wood
    elders heads, draped with hoods.
    Laid out is, party dress
    nearing time, for final rest.
    The darkened room, dimly glows
    soon are eyes, forever closed.
    Bearer summoned, rights are read
    closing in, a time of dread.
    O Crepe Hanger, bide your time
    O Crepe Hanger, life`s still mine.
    Let this clock, tic it`s coarse
    plenty of time, for remorse.
    Whispers fill, the echoed halls
    alas we here, the criers call.
    O Crepe hanger, you shall concede
    from this world I shall secede.
    Center piece that I`ve become
    a rigid corpse, cold and glum.
    by Joe Corbett

    1. D. J. Irvine

      Great poem Joe, thanks for sharing this brilliant verse. I enjoyed reading it this morning with my black coffee and buttered toast. Keep up the great work!

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