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Night Close

Under night close
Death rose to greet me.
I turned; looked back,
Though nothing beckoned -
No one cried or mourned.

Scorned by all
- My fellow race -
I shed the byes to empty space, then
Gazed upon the stony face
Of Death anon, and
So chose our treaty.













































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Line of Death

death death death death death death death death death death death

Submitted: Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Edited: Tuesday, March 20, 2012


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Comments about this poem (A Winter Message by Mark R Slaughter )

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  • Ellen Ni Bheachain (9/16/2010 1:11:00 PM)

    Wow! It is like you are looking at death yet, it is passing by you?

    Deep in thoughts or are you still in thoughts with who is dead and you living on?

    Heavy but real!

    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
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