Poem Tag : death

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
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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?
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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
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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
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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,
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