Poems About Death

Kick the bucket.

The final curtain call.

The end.

What is it? What does it mean? These poems about death don't attempt to provide answers to those questions. Rather, to expand beyond the nature of the questions themselves.

Perhaps death is like a room with many doors—most appearing hermetically sealed, impenetrable, deadbolted against our understanding.

But maybe that's simply our limited perception.

Death calls to us in ways we don't always understand. Sometimes that call becomes so strong, it can't possibly be ignored, leaving us to wrestle with why. 

We've all heard the familiar refrains: death is a journey, a natural part of life, the next phase. Along with taxes, it's one of life's few certainties. Yet these sentiments have always struck me as vague and lacking imagination.

Perhaps death is just that—whatever we imagine it to be.