ON DEATH, WITHOUT EXAGGERATION,
or: a few of my favourite poems about dying, being dead, & the ones who are left behind. some melancholic, some upbeat, some morbid, some euphemistic, some sombre, some tongue-in-cheek, some direct, some not, all good. in no particular order:
âon death, without exaggerationâ, wisĆawa szymborska (oh, it has its triumphs, / but look at its countless defeats, / missed blows, / and repeat attempts!)
âthe suicideâs roomâ, wisĆawa szymborska (a lamp, good for fighting the dark / a desk, and on the desk a wallet, some newspapers / carefree buddha and a worried christ / seven lucky elephants, a notebook in a drawer.)
âthe letters of the deadâ, wisĆawa szymborska (poor dead, blindfolded dead, / gullible, fallible, pathetically prudent.)
(can you see that iâm very fond of wisĆawa szymborska?)
âharlodâs leapâ, stevie smith (it may have killed you / but it was a brave thing to do.)
ânot waving but drowningâ, stevie smith (i was much further out than you thought / and not waving but drowning)
âa meetingâ, wendell berry (he has, / i know, gone long and far, / and yet he is the same / for the dead are changeless.)
âthe deadâ, billy collins (the dead are always looking down on us, they say)
âmemoryâ, hayden carruth (my dear, / how could you have let this happen to you?)
âher long illnessâ, donald hall (daybreak until nightfall, / he sat by his wife at the hospital / while chemotherapy dripped / through the catheter into her heart.)
âthis is a photograph of meâ, margaret atwood (the photograph was taken / the day after i drowned.)
âowl songâ, margaret atwood (i do not want revenge, i do not want expiation, / i only want to ask someone / how i was lost, / how i was lost)
âanne sextonâs last letter to godâ, tracey herd (i have just lunched with an old friend / saying goodbye and something / âshe couldnât quite catchâ.)
âopheliaâs confessionâ, tracey herd (i didnât drown by accident. it was a suicide. / at least let me call my mind my own / even when my heart was gone beyond recall.)
âthe promiseâ, marie howe (he looked at me as though he couldnât speak, as if / there were a law against it, a membrane he couldnât break.)
âaubadeâ, philip larkin (being brave / lets no one off the grave. / death is no different whined at than withstood.)
âlady lazarusâ, sylvia plath (and i a smiling woman. / i am only thirty. / and like the cat i have nine times to die.)
âedgeâ, sylvia plath (her bare / feet seem to be saying: / we have come so far, it is over.)
âsylviaâs deathâ, anne sexton (what is your death / but an old belonging, / a mole that fell out / of one of your poems?)
âa curse against elegiesâ, anne sexton (also, i am tired of all the dead. / they refuse to listen)
âtomorrow theyâll cut me openâ, anna swir (i have many powers in me. i can live, / i can run, dance and sing. / all of that is in me, but if need be, / iâll walk away.)
âbiology teacherâ, zbigniew herbert (in the second year of the war / our biology teacher was killed / by historyâs schoolyard bullies)
âdedicationâ, czesĆaw miĆosz (you whom i could not save / listen to me.)
âdirge without musicâ, edna st. vincent millay (they are gone. / they are gone to feed the roses.)
the rosie probert scene in âunder milk woodâ, dylan thomas (remember her. / she is forgetting. / the earth which filled her mouth / is vanishing from her.)
âdo not go gentle into that good nightâ, dylan thomas (old age should burn and rave at close of day; / rage, rage against the dying of the light)
âa quoi bon dire?â, charlotte mew (and everybody thinks that you are dead, / but i.)
âmythâ, natasha trethewey (youâll be dead again tomorrow, / but in dreams you live. so i try taking / you back into morning.)
âi watched you disappearâ, anya krugovoy silver (are you there? where? / are the others there, too?)
âi am asking you to come back homeâ, jo carson (my mamma used to say she could feel herself / runninâ short of the breath of life. so can i. / and i am blessed tired of buryinâ things i love.)
âthe night where you no longer liveâ, meghan oârourke (was there gas station food / and was it a long trip)
âcondolenceâ, dorothy parker (but i had smiled to think how you, the dead, / so curiously preoccupied and grave, / would laugh, could you have heard the things they said.)
âdeath at daybreakâ, anne reeve aldrich (i shall pass dawn on her way to earth, / as i seek for a path through space.)
âfear no more the heat oâ the sunâ, william shakespeare (golden lads and girls all must, / as chimney-sweepers, come to dust.)
âsonnet xcivâ, pablo neruda (donât call up my person. i am absent. /Â live in my absence as if in a house.)
âfuneral bluesâ, w. h. auden (the stars are not wanted now; put out every one, / pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, / pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood)
âthe drowned childrenâ, louise glĂŒck (but death must come to them differently, / so close to the beginning.)
âbecause i could not stop for deathâ, emily dickinson (the carriage held but just ourselves â / and immortality.)
