Embrace Poems - Poems about Embrace

Though the sun had begun bleeding in the West With an explorer’s gait, I walked jumping over gutters My track, flanked with knee high grass and nettles Also, wild bushes of all kinds that grew in clusters I saw dragon flies whirring around in circles Their wings catching glints of the evening...

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Sepulchered inside a vaulted night so deep the crow soars alone inside that ebon sky of yours Center arched in space, heaven is filled with stars an so your secret lies across orange-yellow meteors. Encased inside a cold embrace, ...

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The reaper comes to all. No heart has he, for he steals away not only the old and infirm, but also the young, icily gripping them in their trepidation when he’s in their sight though some he takes as they sleep through the night. If he should appear when you are conscious, you should not fight against him, for if your time to meet him...

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Ah! shipmate obsession with blonde pleasures but treachery’s buried in treasures feminine gold a flute a lyre voices honey dipped in danger temptation burns Hades flames on sunset waters sea-devils those she-devils salty tear sweet ooh songstress sisters just a taste a kiss on lips setting fire to desires with song my sailor’s appetite hungers for...

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She painted the silence between stars, Colors blooming where sorrow hides, Each stroke a whisper, each canvas wide With dreams that leapt beyond her scars. Younger by decades, yet wise with light, She’d gift you skies with a laughing tone, A mountain’s hush, a prayer in stone— And never...

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“In the cold embrace of death, we come to realize the fragility of human existence.” Unknown ************************************************************** The Cold Embrace...

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Inspired by the painting "Faces" by Pavel Filonov dissect me into patterns tear out veins and rearrange explore me in full colour I'm a map of new terrain please, expose my...

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* Everyone grieves in their own way ~ time will only tell if healing comes, * for some, deaths blanket; unbearable and Thanatos is nearby —poetess * * Despair? so be...

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Written: April 12, 2025 for contest Sponsored by: Sara Jama **************** Chills run down your spine, close to fear. You hear her whisper softly in your ear: "Are you ready to breathe your last breath? Will you surrender into the arms of Death?" Gentle, concerned faces gather...

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Heinous are the horrors in the rages of war after it makes its purchase of pawns. Brave are those following orders with a salute. Some will never see their homeland again for the reach of the reaper is relentless. He is a cimmerian chasing after souls, a stalwart fiend approaching in dark pursuit. I am a soldier trying to escape...

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it was a harrowing goodbye his body still warm when they took him away the cold embrace of death was not to get a hold of him until i was willing to give way Submitted on April 12 for contest COLD EMBRACE OF DEATH sponsored by SARA JAMA...

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dissect me into patterns tear out veins and rearrange explore me in full colour I'm a map of new terrain please expose my innards don't forget my eyes leave me speaking beyond death let me swerve off course from lines introduce insects beneath my skin track the path they choose mark down their exploration all in pursuit of truth whisper in my ear...

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The Cold Embrace of Death The hush transports him to another place, where peace and joy are swallowed by regret. The sea allures him to his own disgrace, Akin to earworms feeble to forget The crashing surf now softly breathes her name, and speaks of pledges, secrets still untold. The wind relays his sorrow and his shame, as old bad dreams before his...

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THE COLD EMBRACE OF DEATH For some, an imminent death is quite OK Especially if by then, they’ve had their day It’s that or continued chronic pain, anyway But the decision should only ever be theirs Not even by someone close who still cares No arbitrary ruling like in Science Fiction Yet it should be painless, at a time to suit No waving...

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She has reached the terminal before time, with rogue cancer cells creeping in her lungs. The pain pulsates in writhing sixteen-year-old body with the rhythm of the last requiem of swan song. Her drowsy empty eyes decline to close, lest the final sleep undesired descends uncalled, takes away the wonderful world from her to the distant mist of merciless obscurity. Her feeble sense...

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