The NY Literary Magazine

A Distinguished Selection of the Finest Poetry

Category

Poems about Life, Living and Death

Emotionally-stirring poems about death as well as touching poems about life experiences, thoughts, and feelings.

Awake at Night by Palma Mingozzi

How many chills
Spent in a restless night
They come and go
Between turns in light-stars
in the shaded dark

And how many thoughts on my mind
Papers thrown out in a basket and
How much nonsense exists in a sigh

How primitive is
Man at first rising in the early morning light
Celestine is the color of the sky today
And she smiles at the scent of coffee
Poured in a ceramic brown cup that steams vaporously

Today I am no longer attracted by the
Chasing after of a dream
For those who want it
They can go and get it

Today I am alone with my thoughts
In my silence
I have no worries
I am convinced that life is sincere
That death is accepted

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Life by Will Neill

Life is like a flower
that starts out from a seed
it needs some love to make it grow
and help it to succeed

It becomes a tiny sapling
that plants its little roots
then from the stems
buds soon grow
with leaves and little shoots

As time goes by a petal forms
that’s just how nature grows
before too long that little bud
evolves into a rose

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Unfit by Ron Walker

The shadows sway,
and stand agape,
and hair erect-
upon the nape
of time inside
this whiskey glass-
Descending
into Dragon Pass…

I have a soul
that must be sold-
I’m told it’s worth
the weight in gold,
alas,
I cannot get it back-
from voices on
this hellbound track…

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Sister Blue by Brenda Davis Harsham

Brother new, sister blue, I miss you.
Both lost at age four. Pain is evermore.

Is it wrong that I still long to belong?
To share every care and touch your hair?

To pillow fight, fly a kite, hold me tight,
whisper secrets in the dark, swing in the park?

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Sad December Moon by Marjon van Bruggen

December evening;
long, grey spirals of dusk
skirr in.
The moon hangs
out of its socket,
dripping.

The lovers don´t touch,
final lies freeze their breath,
a brittle, vertical icicle.

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When I’m old and lonely by Tina Marie Winslow

Will you find me, when I’m old?
Even if I’ve sagged and wrinkled
would you find me beautiful when I laughed?
Could you possibly recognize what will
be me in so many years, or will you pass me
by? Even if I do not recognize myself?

Will we ever even speak again, like we used
to, like good friends should? Or will a nose be
turned and no words spoken as we walk back out
of each other’s lives. I sometimes wish I knew,
so that the time I waste wondering is not in vain.

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The Only Picture that Survived the Fire by Shawna Mayer

Like hope in Pandora’s box,
I wondered if I was spared or
punished by it.

See three smiling cousins,
around age eight,
spattered with mud, after
an afternoon spent playing
in the sodden, low spot in the yard

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Flowers, No Son by La’Erica Conner

Just a child,
born into this world,
Pure innocence,
wrapped up inside of him.

No knowledge of how this life works,
Unaware of death,
awaiting his soul to keep.

A hysterical mother,
a bewildered father,
Begging for answers
about the unexpected leave.

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JAWS by Debra McQueen

We watched it opening night
at the Capitol Drive-In.
The VW’s black vinyl
stuck to the backs of my thighs.

I sat in the passenger seat,
a habit from when I was little.
There was a smell
I hoped my parents wouldn’t notice.

I was allowed to hang
the heavy speaker on
my half rolled down window,
to control the volume.

We brought our own cans
of pop in a cooler stashed
on the floorboards.
Slunk low during the trailers,

Dad reached through
the bucket seats into
a bowl of popcorn from home
balanced on the parking brake.

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Today? Poem by Mary Christine Laningham

Do I understand?
I live another day,
adding to the potential years,
of a life well lived,
so they say.

In the shadow of yesterday?
Will they say this upon the grave?
Yet, that which was lost yesterday,
can be regained tomorrow,
again, so they say.

Do I understand?
Where is today?
The choice lays within,
the question mark of a new day.

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Today by Greg J Muscroft

Today
is the first day of the rest of your life
Tomorrow is an adventure in the making
Yesterday is a memory of
a moment we cannot return to
Even if we wanted

What’s done is done
All we can do is learn to accept it and
move forward graciously

Time waits for no man
And no man achieves by waiting

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Here We Remain by Winslow Des Totes

We may breathe the same air
but not the same lungs
hold the same blood
but speak different tongues

we cry the same tears
and wash the same pains
but we are not one
and yet here we remain.

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I by Jim Miller – Dark Sad Poetry

I want to die
and I want to live.
I want a break
and I want a fix.

I want to feel
and I want to numb.
I want to hide
and I want to run.

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Moving Day by Greg J Muscroft

It’s moving day
All my possessions in boxes
Memories due for collection, when that big lorry finally comes
I’ve left behind the carpet and the wallpaper and stuff like that
And I’ll be sure to leave next doors cat
She used to love to wander in at breakfast, at the smell of bacon
I’ve taken down the posters of 1 Direction
1 Bloody Dimension if you ask me
But little Jessica swears by ’em, and as long as she’s happy
Oh and I’ve left you a little something in the fridge

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A Reimagining of Love by Katie Lynn

The Autumn winds are whispering,
Another year’s at end,
The passing of the leaves all mark
The absence of a friend.

The sky is crisp and clear and blue,
His breath is on the air,
He silently walks through the street
With sunlight in his hair.

His eyes are cast down at his feet,
He hurries to get home,
Afraid to stop beside the park
With the blackened dome.

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The Refugee by Sohail Dahdal

In a new town walks a man
His name is Bisan but they call him Dan
All alone in this world
His house for freedom he sold
But the key in his hand he still holds

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Standing Ovation by Shamica Williams

My daddy wasn’t a famous musician
He never played at Carnegie Hall
Yet his natural talent
Outshines them all

He could hear a song once
And play it by ear
The guitar was his vice
The instrument he held dear

Music always moved him
He smiled when accumulated notes were plays
“Guitar Man” yeah that’s him
A music lover until he went to his grave

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My Beauty by Mary Newcomer

My beauty walked out of the door
Without saying good-bye.
My passport photos are my proof.

My precious ally has found a new face
Not touched by grief, lack of sleep
And broken dreams.

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My Brother by Walker Andreasen

A coffin draped with a flag of stripes,
a flag of stars and a flag of strife.
The man encased there in pine
he was my equal, a brother of mine.

We met one night on a bus
because to training, it was for us.
We had both signed papers with words that said,
“I will protect my country, even ’till death.”

Through the shouts and the screams,
that persisted all day it seems,
my brother would smile and say,
“To me, it’s just another day.

I’m used to hollers and screams,
to being told nothing is what my life means.”
I would look at this man with a frown;
a brother from another town.

Then the day we became men.
Our families and honeys, greeted us then.
“My little boy is now a Soldier.”
wept my mother on my shoulder.

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Wooden Benches by Stephen McGurk

Celebrate; for today we live.
No picture does justice to the life on parade today.
Waitresses carefully place and disappear;
As faces cheer with greetings.
Another; Another.

Tracks are made for those coming after,
A life of white and laughter,
The milk of being.

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