Only Death.

Only Death. short poem

Uploaded by Marjorie Meetoo


Dig a hole and shout
As death and destruction wage an exemplary war.
Soft stranded hair
Wailing waves
Lead floating bodies astray.

Who would cry for you my child?
Who remembers the name with the guttural abyss?
Who would cry for your iridescence?
Your excruciating breath?

I would cry
For your inhuman beauty,
Your translucent heart.

Pudgy promises never kept
Make merry on the oil rigs.
Lofty words ring empty to the one awaiting his beheading,
Not having tasted a single kiss.

Poor child
You could not say the words,
Your hands burnt on spiky walls.
Channel tunnels, suffocating minds,
Politicians, fighter planes
Live coverage, solid smiles.

Dig a hole and shout,
There is no expiation
Only death.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Only If I Could

Only If I Could long poem

What I would tell you, only if I could I would tell you that I love you in the morning, over our morning coffee I would tell you that I love you, through a text, to see when we could

Death At My Threshold

Death At My Threshold prose poem

“What is it that makes you flabbergasted, my dear mortal? This isn’t for the first time you’ve been throttled by the fear of demise” says the death angel while ripping apart my bones. “Why am I still remain, to you,

Only God’s Love

Only Gods Love english poems

Only God’s love can find us Only the love we have in Jesus Is all the mercy to heal us From heartbreak and sorrow Fear of tomorrow The longing we carry inside Of our broken hearts Only God’s power and

Yours Only

Yours Only short poem

A city prepares to die. What is the real time now for blemishing the skin of a man? In your violet eyes I will find a moon for an encounter. An alien wall comes up between us.We cannot shed the

Gifted Death

Gifted Death short poem

Sometimes you want to shut the book and bring out the darkness from bleached words of a lonely march of the tree. How to think or not to think drinking the wine of pain? Baby, do not go into the