The Great Mortal Death

February 9, 2016 February 15, 2019

The Great Mortal Death short poem

Uploaded by Uche Daniel Oluwaseun


oh ye death,you ocean of death
roll away, please, roll
oh ye abyss,
fly away from us

millions of souls in thee
are buried, sleeping
until the sound of trumpet
sounds

when you strike
faces are painted with sorrow
beauty burnt by tears
and the flames’ fire burned

your torture holds great
men in unspeakable groan
your tide swallows common
people and many a captain

oh death, that detains the old
and the young inside you are
men and woman
sleeping too deep to be woken up

silence envelope the room
the days seem to be murmured
the little breeze zip the days
and all we have seems to be lost

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?

Danny

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
Me God fearing man,Fortune teller (disambiguation). who loves literature,Rock and Jazz and Country Musics, free writer with passion,Dark Dreamer,philosopher And Composer Of Poetry.His work appearing or forthcoming in over Midnight Party,including Memo Days,Evening Love and Story of gods.When he's not frightening strangers with his writing.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Death In Exile

Death In Exile short poem

He had pulled in many springs but failed to find a heaven. Asked not to look away. In absences he tried to enter the wounds again. An aboriginal pain flies over my shoulder. A spiritual failure of mankind? Counting unctuously

Death Of A Godman

Death Of A Godman short poem

I have agreed to cede an unwritten moon in a killing frenzy, for a chequered spirituality. Now visitation will start ravishing the light at dawn. The grievers will assemble for a final scoop of dust. Forgive my star, for a

Death And Vision

Death And Vision short poem

The doubters will cross the coals after the raid. Apology will not be in attendance. Sitting on the throne of cold blooded assassination, do you think justice demands the revenge? Whom you are killing, the body or the spirit? Heads

Life And Death

Life And Death short poem

O how I desire, the deluge {a severe flood} to scrub Aside all the black-hearted, and the tender-hearted would be full with warmth, so they won’t harden, but they will fall for the word hasn’t marked them, they will forget

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,