Mortality Poems

Popular Mortality Poems
Olden Tale
by Ivy Olivia Tjahjadi

The old jaggernaut's dream
Filled brain juice to the brim
Withstand this tale's grim
So no more you'd be trapped by the gleam

Once, spoke a hummingbird, blaring clickity and clackity throbs:
"You shall not prevail better than my voice."
The bird hums with an echo so loud, jollying bold brazen yaps,
Letting the whole forest hear her obnoxious melodies


......

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I am the Shadow in the Storm
by Robert Chase

The certainty of life’s completion is as clear as crystal
The hubris of youth recedes with each crease and line reflected in the mirror
The days of childrearing are nearing their end
Many are content to sit on their haunches to observe and advise
I refuse to wear the comfortable shawl - to rest in numb comfort
I rise - I stretch - I pick up my pack and venture forth
I will die gripping and squeezing the last drop of sunlight from my final day
Death needs that scythe to cut me down
I do not consent - I do not yield
I am the shadow in the storm catching the lightning

......

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"The weight of borrowed time."
by Dylan Wu Rong

Childhood is defined by innocence,
since the little hearts only know of the beauty,
the beauty of the butterfly,
the beauty of falling leaves,
the beauty of mid-summer night,
the beauty of first winter snow.
It is when those hearts see the hurt,
the hurt in the aging wings,
the hurt in the cold bare tree,
the hurt in the harvested seeds,

......

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Heading Home
by Ken Ripley

I miss the trees that lined the road,
Their massive trunks and leafy boughs
Changing colors as the seasons passed.
They formed a living wall of green or red
That greeted me when I entered town,
Familiar and comforting as I’d drive by,
A quiet tug of reassurance
Telling me I was almost home.

Year after year, those boughs were there,

......

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An Undying Poet
by Ujjal Mandal

The heaven's eye becomes tired
With rage,
Water endless in the sea.

Winter deflowers the tree,
Spring fills the fissures-
The process constant all year round.

Clouds take off the canopy-
Vapours make a sail

......

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Recent Mortality Poems
Olden Tale
by Ivy Olivia Tjahjadi

The old jaggernaut's dream
Filled brain juice to the brim
Withstand this tale's grim
So no more you'd be trapped by the gleam

Once, spoke a hummingbird, blaring clickity and clackity throbs:
"You shall not prevail better than my voice."
The bird hums with an echo so loud, jollying bold brazen yaps,
Letting the whole forest hear her obnoxious melodies


......

Continue reading
Not a poem maybe
by Aditi Hayaran

Everything matters in this world until one day you wake up in a hospital room, hooked up to oxygen tubes and drips. Then, nothing really matters anymore.

The dreams you framed
The achievements you gained
The gossips and tea
Responsibilities and duty
All that matters is your heartbeat
The blood flowing inside and the way you breathe
It won't be permanent tho;
Your dreams will matter again

......

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"A thread that stitches shadows."
by Dylan Wu Rong

Through the thick mist,
I look down upon the grassy lands,
It is remorseful when I see-
the broken silver needle, on the stone slab.
Who left it behind, or did someone present it?
was it a gift or a memoir for the soul around it?
But maybe it was neither,
maybe- it was the stone that crafted it,
as a closer look sights me the rough cuts,
the many failed thin rods, stacked to the side.

......

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"The weight of borrowed time."
by Dylan Wu Rong

Childhood is defined by innocence,
since the little hearts only know of the beauty,
the beauty of the butterfly,
the beauty of falling leaves,
the beauty of mid-summer night,
the beauty of first winter snow.
It is when those hearts see the hurt,
the hurt in the aging wings,
the hurt in the cold bare tree,
the hurt in the harvested seeds,

......

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Leaves
by Ken Ripley

How handy are the leaves that fall from trees,
Maple, Elm, Dogwood, even needles of pine.
I enjoy these trees, yet can’t tell one from another,
Except to appreciate their colors and their shade
And be soothed as each leaf rustles in the breeze.
And I can’t help thinking their story is like mine.
Proud at their peak to driest piles that smother,
The humblest leaf enriches me with every blade.

Leaves, like seasons, grow differently with time.

......

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