Poem Tag : death

Defiant of the Road

Published on Thu, 21^st May 2026 at 23:37

by William Troup

Defiant of the road, yet fluent of the route, the ghoul has found his home and all he must atone. Remorseful of said times, yet resentful of the lines, the ghoul has set the tone for all he must atone. Spiteful with his words, yet hopeful of their peace, the ghoul has found
... continue reading

The Sharpest Knife

Published on Tue, 24^th Mar 2026 at 23:35

by William Troup

Death, the sharpest knife; in brilliance, it defines us. Venerated, so many a night, yet leaning from my sight, its silent veil flails around this heart of wasted time. Morn catches a hopeful sun the moon has yet to forgive; what of it? what of me? The
... continue reading

Death Is a Common Fight

Published on Sun, 1^st Feb 2026 at 02:09

by William Troup

Death is a common fight we find within the light; do you jest? or stay your hand? an ocean reeps the floor, with little chance of succour; and what of tomorrow? Death is a common fight we crown before the night; do you prevail? or flaunt your coronet?
... continue reading

Death and All Her Games

Published on Tue, 27^th Jan 2026 at 13:02

by William Troup

All but left is ashamed; death and all her games leaves life a cherished play, in anguish ... yet decayed. This labyrinth of time yields plenty to enclasp; but death and all her games comes crawling with a tax. All but left is ashamed; death and all her
... continue reading

Death Is Sick

Published on Tue, 27^th Jan 2026 at 00:19

by William Troup

Death is sick; a silhouette sprig of life begets a shield; what more of thee? Drunk on blood, their sins forgiven? ghosts shalt not see the trees. Empty thrones forget the truce; therein lies the innocence of youth. Death is sick; what hand is left to play?

Oh Tempest!

Published on Wed, 6^th Aug 2025 at 23:35

by William Troup

Oh tempest, break the adamantine waves, and let this habitation breathe; what of the strakes that break the hull? a home for those smaller than thee. Upon the mast, our dreams are tied, as we await the gales abatement; what of sails that flail from the yards? a
... continue reading

Horsemen

Published on Tue, 5^th Aug 2025 at 22:41

by William Troup

Sick, is death, and riven with plagues and preachers toil for life; but wait, famine is drunk on power, and fate. Fallacies prevail with weapons aloft, and heads await on remedies bled; but wait, the conquests are fairly seen, and death unveils his throne,
... continue reading