Death Poem by Blessing Anastasia Abaka

Death

Rating: 5.0


The five letters, one word
yet prescind the love from the beloved
Death keep you empty
and filled you with a vacuum
It unleash your mindset and
isolate you from your dreams
It quash your taste and it pleasant suck like hell

The five letters, one sentence
yet have a embellish of tears
Is like a droplet of snow that you need to be beware of
because when you are suck in it
it makes you quaver

Death is my fr-enemy
He has make me cry
He has stolen a great colossus away from me
I dislike him so much
because he only leave a sad mark in your heart
He is like an emcee that place you on your sit
That introduce you for the next era

If death is so kind,
why then dose he never ask of permission
before proceeding with his plans
Death i will say is a man without vision
it's like a wind that blows without warning.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This poem is in honour of Mr Steven Abaka & Mrs Margret Abaka
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Abdulrazak Aralimatti 12 October 2015

If death is so kind, why then dose he never ask of permission before proceeding with his plans Death i will say is a man without vision it's like a wind that blows without warning. Verily, death is uncertain and a silent comer Without warning....... 10 I invite you to read my poems.

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Onyeme John 20 December 2012

Hmm....death is kindly wicked. Laughs at you as tears of pain he caused runs down your soft cheek...hmm...what a mysterious creature that enjoys preying on lives...

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Nader Baheri 22 November 2012

awesome.i love it especially the ending.every one has his /her own interpretation of death.fear, terror, consternation, or... death also asks for permission, but never waits for the answer.~nb

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Hemraj Koirala 16 November 2012

Good poem poet. From now you started to mull om death? The more you mull the more you will over come the fear of death Which is called Avanibhesh in our classic. Fear of the death is the one of the blemishes of our life along with Ignorance, Ego, Attachment, and detachment. Good Job poet. Make other also to mull about Death. People are going brutish because they are not thinking of death. they do not consider that they will die one day...

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