#poe

I don't know where I find the air and I keep getting the words wrong: From out our bourne of death and space the flood will wash me far- but it doesn't even matter. I never knew that words might not matter. ↗

— Ally Condie

#death

My mother's death changed the alchemy of food. Holidays run together now like ungrooved rivers. I forget what they are for. I buy bakery goods. They look dead under the blue lights. I don't do anything the way she taught me but I get fat. I don't look like her and I don't sound like her, but I stand like her. ↗

— Florence Weinberger

#mothers #poetry #change

On Being Asked to Write a Poem Against the War in Vietnam Well I have and in fact more than one and I'll tell you this too I wrote one against Algeria that nightmare and another against Korea and another against the one I was in and I don't remember how many against the three when I was a boy Abyssinia Spain and Harlan county and not one breath was restored to one shattered throat mans womans or childs not one not one but death went on and on never looking aside except now and then like a child with a furtive half-smile to make sure I was noticing. ↗

— Hayden Carruth

#poetry #war #death

Here the children have a custom. After the celebration of evil they take those vacant heads that shone once with such anguish and glee and throw them over the bridge, watching the smash, orange, as they hit below, We were standing underneath when you told it. People do that with themselves when they are finished, light scooped out. He landed here, you said, marking it with your foot. You wouldn't do it that way, empty, you wouldn't wait, you would jump with the light still in you. ↗

— Margaret Atwood

#poetry #suicide #death

Everything was going to kill you, poetry as well, and the last was the most deadly. ↗

— Brian Castro

#poetry #death

Welcome to thee, O sword of eternity! Through Buddha And through Daruma alike Thou hast cleft thy way. ↗

— Kakuzō Okakura

#japanese #poem #death

You leave behind your fine poems. You leave behind your beautiful flowers. And the earth that was only leant to you. You ascend into the Light, O Quechomitl, you leave behind the flowers and the singing and the earth. Safe journey, O friend. ↗

— Aliette de Bodard

#death #poems #beauty

How stark everything became, at the end, all the wishes for one's children distilled by the world's swift cruelty into the desperate hope that death would take them fast. ↗

— Justin Cronin

#literary #poetic #death

If birth is a manifestation of life, death is another. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#death #dejan-stojanovic #life #literature #literature-quotes

Every thought about death takes a moment of life away. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #life #literature #literature-quotes #poetry