Death poems
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And Death Shall Have No Dominion
© Dylan Thomas
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
Long Distance II
© Tony Harrison
Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.
V
© Tony Harrison
Next millennium you'll have to search quite hard
to find my slab behind the family dead,
butcher, publican, and baker, now me, bard
adding poetry to their beef, beer and bread.
Turns
© Tony Harrison
I thought it made me look more 'working class'
(as if a bit of chequered cloth could bridge that gap!)
I did a turn in it before the glass.
My mother said: It suits you, your dad's cap.
(She preferred me to wear suits and part my hair:
You're every bit as good as that lot are!)
You've seen Balloons set -- Haven't You?
© Emily Dickinson
You've seen Balloons set -- Haven't You?
So stately they ascend --
It is as Swans -- discarded You,
For Duties Diamond --
You're right -- "the way is narrow"
© Emily Dickinson
You're right -- "the way is narrow" --
And "difficult the Gate" --
And "few there be" -- Correct again --
That "enter in -- thereat" --
You taught me Waiting with Myself --
© Emily Dickinson
You taught me Waiting with Myself --
Appointment strictly kept --
You taught me fortitude of Fate --
This -- also -- I have learnt --
Witchcraft has not a Pedigree
© Emily Dickinson
Witchcraft has not a Pedigree
'Tis early as our Breath
And mourners meet it going out
The moment of our death --
While it is alive
© Emily Dickinson
While it is alive
Until Death touches it
While it and I lap one Air
Dwell in one Blood
Under one Sacrament
Show me Division can split or pare --
Wait till the Majesty of Death
© Emily Dickinson
Wait till the Majesty of Death
Invests so mean a brow!
Almost a powdered Footman
Might dare to touch it now!
Unit, like Death, for Whom?
© Emily Dickinson
Unit, like Death, for Whom?
True, like the Tomb,
Who tells no secret
Told to Him --
Two swimmers wrestled on the spar
© Emily Dickinson
Two swimmers wrestled on the spar --
Until the morning sun --
When One -- turned smiling to the land --
Oh God! the Other One!
Triumph -- may be of several kinds
© Emily Dickinson
Triumph -- may be of several kinds --
There's Triumph in the Room
When that Old Imperator -- Death --
By Faith
To make One's Toilette -- after Death
© Emily Dickinson
To make One's Toilette -- after Death
Has made the Toilette cool
Of only Taste we cared to please
Is difficult, and still --
To disappear enhances --
© Emily Dickinson
To disappear enhances --
The Man that runs away
Is tinctured for an instant
With Immortality
Those who have been in the Grave the longest --
© Emily Dickinson
Those who have been in the Grave the longest --
Those who begin Today --
Equally perish from our Practise --
Death is the other way --
Those not live yet
© Emily Dickinson
Those not live yet
Who doubt to live again --
"Again" is of a twice
But this -- is one --
Those fair -- fictitious People
© Emily Dickinson
Those fair -- fictitious People --
The Women -- plucked away
From our familiar Lifetime --
The Men of Ivory --
This docile one inter
© Emily Dickinson
This docile one inter
While we who dare to live
Arraign the sunny brevity
That sparkled to the Grave.
This Consciousness that is aware
© Emily Dickinson
This Consciousness that is aware
Of Neighbors and the Sun
Will be the one aware of Death
And that itself alone
