Mortality Poems
Semper Ego Solus
by Richard Johnson
I stand now
in the kingdom of heaven
Twiddling my thumbs wondering
When I’ll come back down
To the east falls the red sun
Under it, sand billows and vents
Reminiscing two crumbling feet
A crown for bloodlines since run
Know that I sit here unburdened
......
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,
......
bubbles in the afternoon
by Ryan Hoffschneider
Bubbles in the afternoon
Blown on the back porch.
A gentle breeze caressing its way through my hair.
Looking into the eyes of people I once knew
Glimpses of the past.
Not a care in the world, for everything was good
Laughing at ourselves all day long
Amid the popping of those childish domes of soap.
The thing with bubbles
......
Autumn
by Debra Robertson
Summer’s cremation
Funeral pyres foreshadow
Winter of lost souls
Jacobite
by Richard Johnson
Accept that you’re alone
Come now Mr Jones
And in your kingdom of the sane
Where preachers struggle to find a vein
I thought it made me a man
To have fools paint my hands
Memories taken by unsavoury hosts
I forgot their names so I named them ghosts
I apologise
......
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
......
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,
......
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.
......
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,
......
bubbles in the afternoon
by Ryan Hoffschneider
Bubbles in the afternoon
Blown on the back porch.
A gentle breeze caressing its way through my hair.
Looking into the eyes of people I once knew
Glimpses of the past.
Not a care in the world, for everything was good
Laughing at ourselves all day long
Amid the popping of those childish domes of soap.
The thing with bubbles
......
