Dead Poets Society Poem Novels & Stories

She felt drowsy and her eyes are threatening to close. -+- “WE ARE awaiting your instructions, sir.” Charon, some minor gods and a group of lampads formed two lines behind Hades. “Let’s check the Elysium first, then Tartarus, and Asphodel Meadows for last.” He instructed. One of the old men in suits, a deity named Rhadamanthys answered him, “I must say that your idea of making the underworld similar to the mortal’s resort is an innovative idea.”

KHLOE The drums rolled and whispered their poetry in ballads , a sad tune to mourn the man that had died, a commoner , a father and a friend , His burial and passage to the after life be will forgotten so quickly in the heart of the other sympathizers but will definitely leave a print in the heart of his loved ones . The burial of the commoners were easy , two coins on each eyes for the ferry man and a few drums roll as his body is burnt till ashes to prevent an incarnation.

Eveth spent time pull me steos closer to death abd the moon goddess. Poisoning really is a bitch and a slow undesirable and unadvisable death method. I heave. I feel empty and already dead. I survival will is all gone, dead and extinct. I feel a living corpse. All hope is gone. Everything is gone. My only cure and supposed healer is gone. I watch it gradually disperse before my very eye's. I watch a f**king mob stain abs damp it's abilities and usefulness. I watch it all smash and leave the floor to a bacteria infested foamy watcher.

A tribute: Lady Bana’s Poem: “Life is a thread we weave in storms, Stitching dreams through quiet forms. We rise, we fall, we burn, we freeze, We beg for time, but Time won't cease. Death is not the end, my friend, Just a bend where echoes blend. You go where silence drinks the light, Beyond our reach, beyond our sight. But I, who stay, must wear the pain, A sword of loss, a crown of rain. Farewell, my sword, my foolish warrior, The game is now on, and I must fight to avenge.”

Were they afraid I might fall to my death, or were they hoping for it? I was certain it was the latter. I spread my arms wide and with my eyes turning red, I opened my mouth, allowing the winds to carry my words to them down below Let it rain, hail and brimstone, My dead bones has risen, I’ve returned, the unforgiven dead. By ash and bone, by blood and blight, I call the darkness to take its bite. Let sickness rot their flesh and breath, Let every dawn bring closer death. Let fever scorch their brittle veins,

It's closure. As the wind blew, the petals of the white roses swayed gently. I remembered the alley in the slums eight years ago, where he wore a clean suit and handed me a piece of bread. I remembered him smiling after taking the lashes and saying, "From now on, I'll protect you." Those images flashed like a movie reel, finally ending on him lying on the ground and using the last of his strength to call my name. "Addio, Vincenzo." I turned away, never looking back. "In your next life, don't love someone this way. And don't make anyone wait."

The red soil was flowing like water of the gestures of cries, folk of crow waiting for its turn to hunt, yet no help, helpless and hopeless faces, the laughs of hunters, they hunted the soul and let the carcasses turn into what it was made up of. The fire was rapidly eating one by one, one after one houses of poors. The dark was coming as the light was going dim eventually. Roars of the monsters giving goosebumps to the dead, the cart of sorrows was taking an unusual load of worthless hollow corpses, out of time, out of chances, out of what's unreachable, out of words, out of ways, out of land, out of sky, out of day, out of night, out of life into the death.

Lying here with a loss of words, hearing no sound but that of a dirge I searched my mind but it comes blank, the sounds of Lament fell like I sank Deadweight is my body all dressed and adorned, to be viewed by the ones who felt I have scorned Tucked in a billow of alabaster white, a weight of coins to keep out the light How is it possible I am lying here, surrounded by people who don’t shed a tear? Trying to move to stop this façade, not wanting to meet the one they call God

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West,

Vera said with a smile, “That’s right! The way to control the dead soldiers is to use a double-edged sword that could kill thousands of enemies and injure several thousands more. As long as no one has the antidote for their poison, these dead soldiers would not dare to and would not have the chance to make any mistakes. If anyone makes a mistake, the Qing Eliminating Society would only need to cut off their antidote to kill them directly without even shedding blood.” “However, it’s precisely because of this that the dead soldiers who obey their words and are under Qing Eliminating Society’s control hate them to the core! Once there is a chance to remove the poison in their bodies, they will