THEY ARE CALLED HAIKU -- 5 - 7 - 5 |
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A soul might extend
But the body is brittle
Life is but passing |
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Very cold comfort.
All thru dark nights and bright days.
She always follows.
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("She" is Death and Death is a young, friendly women that was created by Neil Gaiman. The character appeared in the comic book series call "The Sandman". The Character Death also appeared in her own story that was titled "Death: The High Price of Living".)
This is what she look like.
This is a link to the book.
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Sands slip through the glass
Hours fade into minutes
Words blur with seconds.
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The bringer of death,
Has a kindness about her,
Face of poetry.
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Moonlight in her eyes.
A steady calm on her face.
Few moments give peace.
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Thoughts speak no reason
And always lead to despair
Darkness has its way
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Cannot death be sweet?
New and fresh free of despair
A kind friendly face
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Try happy endings
Even when they don’t apply
Hope might find a way
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Falling forever,
Far down a pit of despair,
Away from the light.
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Raindrops on lush leaves
Dark clouds loiter overhead
Absent is the sun
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Wishing I am dead
Melody keeps repeating
A song in my head
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Questions keep coming
Teetering on disaster
Hope spinning away
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If I were to fall
Hit the hard floor and scatter
The broken pieces
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Into the sunlight
Climbing just a bit higher
To dream a new dream
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Was caught in quicksand
As minutes dwindle to none
With gradual pace
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A soul might extend
But the body is brittle
Life is but passing
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With Death smiling
Filling up the bottom glass
And kept close at hand
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Can’t win every move
Sometimes things will end badly
You can count on that
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In absentia
I'm carrying on without you
Wishing you no harm
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Ameliorate
The state of my soul within
The shape of my heart
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Thoughts nettle my mood
Fears in the peripheral
Death is laconic
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Whispers come at night
While dreams travel by day
She is close at hand
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The moment slips by
For time will not wait for me
She always follows
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Ever so nearby
I sense her watchful presence
In all that I do
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Circling the end
Beliefs don’t aid any plans
When dark thoughts corrupt
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Austere attitudes
Will pester my cheerful mood
When I am thinking
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Turn to her often
Lost in the black of the night
She always follows
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My thoughts betray me
As she whispers in my ear
One sweet delusion
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A simple terror
I’m faced every single day
With an empty white
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The witching hours
Before the daily sunrise
Stirs the soul silly
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