Death Poem Quotes

“Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it.
My coming, my going-
Two simple happenings
That got entangled.”
― Kozan Ichikyo

“Falling ill on a journey,
my dreams wander
the withered fields”
― Matsuo Bashō

“The Inevitable Tide by Stewart Stafford

The inevitable tide comes,
To claim every one of us,
Whether sufficient breath of life,
Is inhaled deep or forsaken.

Then let them bend and screech,
Their hearsay and homilies,
To rake the ashes of earthly remains,
In our final resting place.

The person no longer lingers,
Gone to Paradise or Hell,
Purgatory or mere rotting decay,
A ghostly rose bled white on binding soil.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“DEATH

A woman who dreams of death
Is sitting in her room alone
While the clouds and the stars
That once saw the quiet fumes
Of war
Reach out to grasp one another
And stifle that fire
But the distinct forms
And multitudes
In blurs
Takeoff racing in the earthen boundaries
Never counting
The parts they killed
As they were air-driven
Within the velvet cores of her galaxy”
― Trisha North, Internal Devices: The Faulty Drives Within My Mortal Hardware

“Dead Rite by Stewart Stafford

While he lives, hope still clings,
The hereafter remains a mystery,
If life is but struggle and toil,
Then death is hushed serenity.

Things he treasured when alive,
Trinkets to divide up as booty,
The body still lying in repose,
Nothing but a fading memory.

Lay him down in a mossy grave,
Heads bowed in a muttered eulogy,
Then back away with platitudes,
To the nearest exit from the cemetery.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Thoughts On My End by Stewart Stafford

My last moments slip away,
On which day, at what time?
Snow chilling bones faster?
Sweat in blinding sunshine?

Halloween, Xmas or Easter?
Evening or just after dawn?
Pass away on my birthday?
Gifts, mass cards all drawn?

Will it be in long, slow agony?
Or mercifully fast and painless?
What will my drug of choice be?
Will I be conscious or brainless?

Who will be at my bedside?
Many or no one, who can say?
Kind words or total silence?
I’ll hear and be on my way.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Darkened Light by Stewart Stafford

Ephemeral life fading,
As a ground shadow,
The cat in the shade,
The sun's arm draped.

Pose for a photograph,
Thousand-yard stare,
In denial of expiration,
That bodily eviction.

Take a breather inside,
Too drained for more,
Crash and burn out,
Let quietus wash over.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“You won't know what life is,
Till you die a thousand times.
Once you break the spell of death,
Every moment you'll rise revitalized.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Yarasistan: My Wounds, My Crown

“The Path We Must Walk by Stewart Stafford

From dust, we are conjured,
And, to black hole dust, return,
Greater than parts that made us,
From first breath to a cremation urn.

O rake the ashen cinders over,
With smiling teardrops past,
A speck of dust, every echo,
In an inner eye, fading fast.

The cheerful moon, light in darkness,
A hint of blazing celestial glory,
Thawing all terrestrial tension,
Life's character, a remembrance story.

From fleshly body to a child of light,
Weather kissing an empty grave,
Wilting flowers nod to obsolescence,
Sentiment, memory, unharmed to save.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Teardrop Swarm by Stewart Stafford

Entombed by verdant prison bars,
On land where I once held sway,
Drowned in Death's tearful surf,
In which we all get swept away.

Weep at a rock bearing my name,
A vacant space once familiar there,
Lost and lingered in limbo longing,
Planted in pastures, green and fair.

Arch headstones are defiant cliffs,
For Reaper's wrath to crash upon,
A foundling rage's pristine triumph,
In foam white light, multitudes gone.

© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Rich man, poor man, come away.
Come to dance the Macabray.

Time to work and time to play,
Time to dance the Macabray.

One and all will hear and stay
Come and dance the Macabray.

One to leave and one to stay,
And all to dance the Macabray.

Step and turn, and walk and stay,
Now we dance the Macabray.

Now the Lady on the Grey
Leads us in the Macabray

All must dance the Macabray”
― Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book