Mark R Slaughter


Mark R Slaughter Poems

1. A Cast Of Shadows 2/16/2013
2. A Cloudy Thought 9/24/2012
3. A Country Path In Late Spring 4/20/2010
4. A Drink 3/5/2009
5. A Dying Brain 10/8/2009
6. A Flow Of Memories 1/27/2014
7. A Fresh Endeavour 12/5/2009
8. A Lake Of Lips 7/28/2013
9. A Life Half Lived 11/22/2010
10. A Little Ditty 12/7/2011
11. A Tomcat Tree 3/18/2009
12. A Valentine In Pain 2/13/2010
13. A Vampire’s Bite 3/17/2009
14. A Winter Message 1/4/2011
15. A Winter Pond 11/27/2010
16. Abstraction 3/15/2012
17. Accordance 1/27/2012
18. Adirondack Airs 11/19/2012
19. Adrift Upon A Ramble 2/1/2012
20. Agony 8/20/2010
21. Alcoholic 11/20/2010
22. All On Earth 11/21/2009
23. Alone 10/22/2009
24. 'Alone! ' I Cried 10/22/2009
25. Along The Promenade 3/21/2012
26. Ambiguity... 5/8/2012
27. Amen 1/22/2011
28. An Act Of Poetry 1/26/2010
29. An Early Day In May 4/28/2010
30. An Illusion 10/27/2011
31. An Image Of Your Gaze 8/8/2012
32. And A Big Welcome To 2012 1/4/2012
33. And How We Die! 1/27/2014
34. And I Shall Share Your Face 3/15/2012
35. And I Was All 7/14/2013
36. And I'M Besotted 5/24/2012
37. And Should I Move? 6/13/2012
38. And We Are Synergy 10/6/2013
39. Another Poem 11/14/2011
40. Apparition 1/10/2012
Best Poem of Mark R Slaughter

It's Death Again

It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter ...

Read the full of It's Death Again

Death, Inevitable Death

Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.

Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’

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