Tag: death

Villanelle 1

by sidcorvid

It is my dream that I end in fire.
If only for fear of the forlorn,
Dying without hope or desire.

Having never been a liar,
This claim I won’t adorn.
It is my dream that I end in fire.

I’m nothing, yet, to admire,
But, ‘til the end, I refuse the scorn
Of dying without hope or desire.

My body will someday tire,
It’s then I’ll be set alight, already well-worn.
It is then that I’ll end in fire.

Peace and calm are a myth of the prior,
See Christ, with his crown of thorn
Who died without hope, or desire.

With pounding heart, I know what I require.
Since the hour that I was born,
I have dreamt that I would end in fire,
Free today from hope or desire.

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During this Call to Arms

by sidcorvid

During this call to arms,
This duty in an age of arms,
I cherish this moment
Of being held, deeply, in your arms.

Your quivering body holding me,
Words escaping me,
We know what tomorrow may bring,
That a bullet may just find me.

Know that if one does,
My dying memory will be in your arms,
Knowing we are one of soul.

Smile that you’ll have loved a hero.
Know that your love, here,
Smiling, gave me final comfort.

In this call to arms,
I see that you love me.
Knowing my sacrifice is not in vain.
Smiling to still your pounding heart.

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Let the order be handed down

by sidcorvid

Let the order be handed down,
Let the world know
That the traitor, this terror,
Is bound to be bound and burned.

For his crimes of neglect,
For his crime of betrayal,
Friends must forget forgiveness,
Kin can’t console the killer.

Dress him in the finest garb,
Dress him as a martyred hero,
For the finest of flattery
Makes the most morose mockery.

Set a torch under his aching feet.
Set a fire in the hearts of none.
Time won’t tarnish thought
Of fiends freely forgotten.

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Be a Man!

by sidcorvid

I recognize that every breath is a fight,
Gagging on your own blood and all,
But you just gotta hold on.

You’re not done fighting yet.
Open your fuckin’ eyes!
Look at me, you pussy!
You’re not going to die in my arms.

Don’t make me tell your family
All that horseshit about
Memories being timeless
And you, now, living in them.

Be a man!
Suck it up!
Wake up.

It’s too late, though, isn’t it?
Your lips are blue, body stiff.
Please wake up,
Don’t do this to me.

Where’s the poetry in this?
There’s no beauty here.
Why do the birds keep singing,
Serenading this tragedy?

Why would you do this to me?
Why would you rest
When there’s still so much for us to do?

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A Hero

by sidcorvid

He scratches his scruff
With the barrel of his handgun,
Knowing if he doesn’t clean it soon,
It will jam when he needs it most.

He takes another drag on his smoke,
Another sip of his mud,
No longer shaking at the shells
Exploding in the not quite distance.

He’s ready for his next charge
Over no man’s land.
The Vickers cannot touch him.
The raven flies overhead
And he knows it waits
For carrion; his enemies.

A man falls next to him,
Felled by a sniper’s round.
He is ready.
The order comes.
And he is first out of the trench.
He is first to fall.

His body will be picked clean
By Odin’s messengers,
But he has earned a seat
Amongst the heroes of his race.

my existence offending

by sidcorvid

My existence offending,
With every breath of smoke
Which is taken alone,
I march forward.

Fire erupts from the candles at the wake.
A man lies waste deep
Not ready to be interred.

Yet the birds still sing
O’er a body cut down
By Smith & Wesson’s
Newest thresher.

A miracle occurred today,
He has proven something,
If only for himself.

He has become an Ozymandias,
A king of the dead to be forgotten.
The works of his dying hands
Mattered only to his fleeing soul.

The triumphs of loves won
And the woes of years of defeat,
Are but memories forgotten.