Walking dead
I walk alone
seeing the fine ladies there
humming to myself
I fear I am dead
under my clothes
Poems on the topic: death
Poems on the topic “death” on Poets.by.
Hangman
I am my work:
at noon, an ordinary hang.
We ate.
Like the liver I took
pleasure to see
draw to an end.
Absent
No thinking or cake,
trouble or work
in my absence.
No father or son.
A dead body, I hear,
is not much.
Hanging
Go and be hanged, we call
to a clerk, to a schoolmaster,
to two cows in the wood,
to God, to children, to the man
that hangs on Shooter’s Hill,
filthy flesh shrunk to his bones.
Proverbial (4)
Knock on a clock, owe an owl.
A sage and an owl meet where a light is out.
Never was a house pleased with the arms that hang there.
We die in fear, not for mirth’s sake.
Goth
At the office, I am
a fish in the dolphin.
Tar me and err.
Night is my wife, a pall my king.
Cheating on Death
I go to the wine-house
to know my fear
of losing time
and make an ordinary lay
a mad love.
The River Fleet
Death is walking
up and down
with the watchmaker,
who told me
how a river
I had never seen
was at home in
a great and dirty pipe.
Homeless
I bury a friend at the green
bone of the day.
I think myself one without a bed.
Tribute
We dine on our knees
and drink to my dead cook,
my mind taken up
with my own sin.
Sound of the Sea
My brother the sea,
who lay so late awake,
I find by his voice.
His only child died
last night at home.
Hard Ride
A horse with
the king’s guitar.
A lost horse
to carry me
to the tomb.
I kiss a late rose,
having laid out
my walking garb,
weary and hot.
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