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Faith Loss Poems | Faith Poems About Loss

These Faith Loss poems are examples of Faith poems about Loss. These are the best examples of Faith Loss poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Elegy | |

Angela's Right Hand

The function of a human hand?
Writing a message, making a bed,
Opening a jar, dialing a phone,
Putting on pantyhose,
Touching the face of a child,
Or a lover.

And in its absence?
Yawning space and phantom pain,
And an oddly-shaped bandage
At the end of Angie’s arm.

PFC Hernandez, home in El Paso,
Watches her family watching her,
Writing awkwardly with her left hand,
Brushing her black wavy hair,
Watching Dr. Phil
Wearing an old gray-green T-shirt
Bearing the faded words
“Proud to be a Marine.”

Gasping and choking,
She wakes from thick, dusty dreams
Of shimmering, endless sand,
Unfamiliar words
Echoing hollow with hatred,
And the feared but half expected
Roar of fiery amber heat,
Breaking the angry stillness,
Searing through the night
And Angela’s right hand.

Copyright © Ginna Wilkerson

Details | Free verse | |

If I Cry

If I cry
It must be the memory
Of a skirt unlifted by a gust
To still a boy's misery 
And wipe my eyes dry
Of tears
For the way time sears
Us like flowers
And reaped my mother 
Before I was ready to let her go.

If I cry
I cry for days she sheltered me
From a child's web of fallacy
And put her spittle on my knee
Where bruised flesh 
Was a boy's view of tragedy.
I would press my face
Against her dress
And feared no goliath
Or loneliness.

If I cry
I cry for evenings on the porch
When she gathered us
Our feet white with blowing dust
And hunger like a miner
Drilling us
We had so little to eat some days
But she with prayers picked fruits
Of heaven's mercy
And we thankful ate together
And heard her ancient anecdotes
Of ancestors' exploits that floats
Still upon a manhood sky.

If I cry
I cry that mothers' days are meaningless
When the sight of flowers
Are frail veils upon a grave
And the customized Christmas cards
Will not sparkle her eyes
Just before the kiss upon my cheek
Honoring me for faithfulness
And knowing her love measures more
More than a day
More than the years that sums earth's decay.

If I cry
I cry for the love of my mother
For the woman and life giver
For God to bring
Order to this unruly thing
That spoons our purpose to a cup
Swallow us
Before the dusk with each sup
Of time, diminishing us
I cry for faith to hold my trust
Against the agony of loss
Death is a demonic disgust
That makes me long
To substitute all tears for angels song.

If I cry
Preserved my hope with brine of eye
To live again
Without death or pain
And run with my mother
Through the clapping ovation of summer rain.

Copyright © David Smalling

Details | Free verse | |

My weakness


Wondrous of many blessings.
Smiling never a frown.
My prayers, Lord, are  suddenly being ignored.
I've taken a tumble of  fallen down
Lord, my life was plain and simple  
How did it come to this?
Lord, now I carry a  burden so deep
A torn up life not easy to fix
Hard to get my prayers before I sleep
Bleeding only internally!
Feeling very minutely!
God, have you deserted me or is it me who deserted you?

God, my Lord, my savior, how could you abandon me?
Must I drown in my own sorrow?
Must I wake up like this today and tomorrow.
Why have you left me, or is it me who left you?

God, I need you like never before.
When I wake up,
When I head out the door.
Tormented in a mood ring of stock
Heavily my tears hit the floor.
God, do you not feel me, or is it me who no longer feel you?

God, what is your plan for me?
What things did I not see?
I asked for you to forgive me in my ways of sin.
Why do you let him provoke me?
Lord, I forbid for him to win.
Relieve me from his gutless pain.
God, do you not believe me, or is it me who no longer believe in you?

God, do you not hear my call
My pitiful excuses make me weak and small
In your eyes, I no longer feel tall
I remain cursed in every single fall
Lord, only you can break this wall
Do you not see me on my knees
Must I beg and crawl?
I am at your mercy, crying out with grief
Open the path to the lighted hall
O' Lord, the day you judge me before your throne
Please tell me it was a lesson for me to stand up on my own
God for now I will end this talk
With the dignity to never look back
I ask if you were there on my endless journey of a relentless walk?


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Couplet | |

Second Chance

As the never world awaits me, 
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake 

Complative thoughts well before the dawn,
I walk the morning shore,
How many have stood on these same sands,
Reflecting the echoes of those no more.

And still the waves they pound the shore,
Relentless in their quest,
As they crash on the rocks with deafly roar,
White tipped and foaming zest.

Dawn breaks with gilded cotton clouds,
Waiting like courtiers to their king.
Gathering round the sovereign sun,
Bestowing his warmth on everything.

Would that life compare to the shore,
All worries get washed away.
Cares thrown to the four winds,
As on my knees I pray

© N A Windle 2009

Copyright © nicholas windle

Details | Didactic | |

Speak of thee

                                        He is above us in the clouds 
                                run through the fields and speak of thee
                                              He will grow roses

                                       I will be the stem of the roses 
                                       for I shall never leave your soil

                                     You will be the tree I grow beneath 
                                             and he will be our rain.

Copyright © Andrea M Christian

Details | Quatrain | |

The Whispered Song

The warrior lays her weary head, 
With heavy heart she cannot bear, 
Burning tears stream down her face, 
As whispered memories touch the ear.

Her armour tarnished by remorse, 
Her battle-cry a wimpered row, 
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude, 
Will never know forgiveness now.

The song began two score ago, 
When two came knocking at her door, 
In need of refuge from the world, 
Of that, and love, and little more.

Forced to fight for every smile, 
Her only solace found in song, 
She longed for love to rescue her, 
And plant her where she could belong.

Jealous tongues are seldom kind, 
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love, 
The caged canary only sings, 
When coaxed to praise from up above.

For the steely spine that now I own, 
Forever shall I grateful be, 
A gift from her, and from her own. 
Courage mounted inwardly.

I'll not forget how I have loved thee, 
And youthful memories I will prize, 
Til on the shore of His forgiveness, 
Whereto now, we both shall rise.

Copyright © Yvonne Evanoff

Details | Couplet | |

Once Was A King

There once was Castle just over the hill
That belonged to a King with an iron will

Nestled safely behind his Castle wall
With an army to insure they wouldn’t fall

It was clear for the entire world to see
Destiny would record him in history

The richest King in all of the land
A beautiful Queen at his right hand

He ruled the land from shore to shore
Tell me, “Could any man ask for more”?

Turns out this King had just one vice
He was so great he forgot to be nice

Against any force he was bound to win
So the devil attacked him from with-in

Such a great King skilled with the sword
Much too great a King to turn to the Lord

Watched his entire Kingdom crumble away
Because he was to great to kneel and pray

Copyright © Michael Jordan

Details | Lyric | |

Forever In My Heart

Sometimes I look around me
and I see an empty space
where you might be playing
a sweet smile on your face
You might be calling out to me
asking me to play
and I would be there with you
and you would fill my day

At bedtime when I read to you
before I tucked you in
I would open up my arms
and you would climb right in
I would kiss your baby cheek
and tell you "you're my love"
then I would hold you close to me
and thank the Lord above...

But when I look around again
there's just an empty space
no toys scattered on the floor
no shinning little face
I'll never hear you call my name
or watch you as you grow
but you will always be with me
no matter where I go

I know there is a heaven
and I know that you are there
and you have a better life
than I could give you here
until I take my final breath
I will always pray
that through God's most precious gift
I'll be with you someday

Then I will take you in my arms
and hold you close to me
your laughter will ring in my ears
your smiling face I'll see
we will be together
my precious baby boy
and then the only tears I'll cry
will be ones of joy

I hope that you can hear me
I have so much to say
but I never had the chance
since you left me that day
for now I want to tell you
that I love you so
and I'm so very sorry
that you had to go

If you could have stayed with me
my dream would have come true
and I know I would have done
anything for you
and even though you went away
and we must be apart
I know you will always live
forever in my heart

Copyright © Robin L. Gass

Details | Romanticism | |


Our lives produce such struggles
to which we must rise!
And often we find places
that from which we would run and hide.
But just remember that Your choice
will bring the happiness you seek... 
Just Be the Brave one you wish
The one you still want to be.

For I am here to catch you,
to help and see you through,
within your dreams or trials of life;
whether on mountain or cliff
whichever weso choose to climb.  
Remember this as you feel you are sinking.
or slipping from the walls you've been clinging.
The climb may tire the muscles 
as we reach for the top,  
and make us weaker in our strength
while we try to here hang on.

But if we just let go,
and trust the our heart to know what's right
we will never  be led to far away;
Though even trodding in the night.
And do not fear the way back down!
For how many birds fly, 
when still nested on the Ground.

And if, by chance,
your wings you fail to find...
From your fall I'll catch you, 
and lead you on through time.
For how many learn to open there wings
whilst the mud stayed fixated about their feet.  
The Winds of the sky need your wings to catch, 
to fly you to the heavens
where the angels await you to meet,
and lead you to that better place.
A place we can not even dream.

So with the lightest breeze 
they will teach us how to soar...
and lift us from our agony and woe.
Thus ending the anguish
as your wings fill there up.
to fly with them forever more. 

The Ground is not safe nor is the air, 
but what life would we live 
if we never did dare.
Where angels fear
and devils are faint...
If Love durst not 
then forever must then wait.
I remember the story 
of two who fell in love... 
His name became his enemy, 
and He o'er her family
She did make that choice.
I would be that Romeo, 
say you my Juliet...
And with you in my arms 
I would die once more again. 
With you I would cast off the sins,
an choose to hold you in the end.
When together,two become one,
Star crossed lovers 
can find the peace of each others arms. 
when as one we will fly,
Into that bitterless sky.

Copyright © Randall Anderson

Details | Free verse | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Sestina | |


The day’s beginning is a special gift.
Given over a life’s eternity,
One can’t help but feel the daily change.
How often we stay into the evening.  An attempt to hold
Onto the feelings of joy and elation,
That made our day so emphatically special.

Are not the future possibilities also special?
That we dream of yet other gifts,
gifts  of such thought, that might also inspire elation
From giver and receiver for all eternity.
Constantly close to both, holding,
As if to say, “Don’t Ever Change.”

Does growth not require change?
Should not that change be also special?
Only if you have forgotten about holding,
The longing embrace of previous gifts,
One that requires attention for all eternity,
fueling existential feelings of elation.

Even when intentionally forgotten, holding
On to the recipient, despite elation.
At one point, this internal agony was a gift.
What could ever make this change?
This gift that could never be more special.
Now it has changed for eternity.

The re-direct of energy through eternity,
The loss of love’s forever embrace.
Love, making pain beautifully special.
Will there ever be elation?
Maybe if we only change
The way we exchange special gifts.

Our future’s eternity might fill with elation
From  holding the exchange
Of something special,
… the mere appreciation of a gift..

Copyright © Matthew Sample

Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 

Copyright © John Paluszek

Details | Narrative | |

Eat Pray Love

On the edge 
of the evacuation zone
Miyuki holds her daughter 
tip-toeing in pink sneakers 
her small hands fragile 
blossoms opening
to the man with the beeping wand 

They were outside in the karesansui 
washing and raking 
rocks, when the school 
heaved, convulsed 
then pressed into silence
voices rising inside

So now they wait with strangers
in ordered lines of sorrow 
for bread and drinking water 
as an adolescent, eyes downcast
sees the small pink laces and
offers up his only ration 
of precious onigiri

Hooded and white masked they walk 
three days and bed-less nights toward 
Ishinomaki by the ocean
to family, friends, and home forever 

The landscape jumbles unfamiliar
with plastic wreckage 
and automobiles 
detritus flooded in a field
where Japonica once grew
while moon-suited men 
and women gather
albums for the living

And after sunset Miyuki moves 
her little girl away 
from a white-taped blue-bagged 
lifeless form 
toward the humming black-robed Monk, his
prayers for light 
and workers burned
exposed to radiation ten 
thousand times too high 

And in the shadows one old man kneels
beside a fetid pool and scoops  
rice to carry back to neighbours 
moved to higher ground, un-opens 
one last bottled spirit
bows his head and offers
Miyuki and her first and only 
everything  he has 

At last they reach the shelter’s glow
beneath the starless robe of night 
not used to wearing 
shoes indoors
Miyuki helps her daughter fold
sheets of painful news into
an origami box to hold
her last and only pair

And in the morning as they face
the stretch of road for home 
to unknown love and losses there 
they turn and gaze toward the east 
awaiting still 
spring’s warming breeze 
to rise with brilliant red once more
new light of wondrous dawn 


'karesansui' is a Japanese rock garden or 'dry landscape'.  Rocks are often washed.
'onigiri' is the emergency rice being distributed to survivors in Japan.
'Japonica' is a type of (short-grained) Japanese rice.

for Debbie Guzzie's contest, 'Tribute to Japan'

by ~Soulfire~ 


Copyright © Soulfire

Details | Rhyme | |

The Tranquillizers

                             THE HOSPITAL FAIRYLAND

They walked together, hand in hand,
Into life’s magical fairyland.
Where there was no trouble, where there was no pain.
Where life could really, begin all over again.
Where were no men in little white coats.
Forcing you all, to stuff drugs down your throats.
Forcing you to do, what you didn’t want to.
Telling you it was all for the best, for you,
People shouting, people crying.
Most of the people talking about dying.
What is this hell, we’ve all come to?
It’s called coming off drugs, we all have It to go through.
Where will it end, what will we do?
None of us really, has a clue.
We are given more pills, we are told, we have to take.
To the men in white coats, life’s a piece of cake.
We are the prisoners, they guard the doors.
Some try to creep out, on all fours.
Into hell and back, we go for a ride.
Eventually if we’re lucky, we come out the other side.
Where we can walk, hand in hand.
Into life’s magical Fairyland.
Where there is trouble, where there is pain.
But at least we can start, living again.

Copyright © pat dring

Details | Rhyme | |

Understanding Gods Love

Christmas, so full of life, and miracles, was found wanting this year.
A young mother sat by her daughter’s hospital bed, racked with tears.
Her daughter was sleeping way too still; her last breaths would soon come.
How could this happen to so beloved a child, she was way, too very, young.

Where was God’s wisdom, in taking a six year old, or her father as taken in war?
Church, friends, family, others, and her, had prayed till they could pray no more.
They’d ask for her: to walk in the sun, and play again, with family to hold her hand.
But her time was gone, like in an hourglass; the sand was almost, completely gone.

The mother was afraid to pray anymore… what could it accomplish any more?
What the disease hadn't taken, the cure had, nothing left, but for her soul, to soar.
But how could she hand her to the angels? Strangers had always frightened her child.
No, she sobbed, she’s way to young! Still she knew: life was never fair… or mild.

Where was God when you need him! Please don’t take her away! Her mind riled!
When suddenly, her daughter opened her eyes, and smiled her little, tired smile.
She whispered: Papa’s here… to hold my hand… He’s taking me… where I can play.
At that the fear receded… as she said she loved her… then watched her fade away.

Perhaps her prayers HAD been answered… She’d had her time with her, after all.
Now her Husband, would take her place… Perhaps it was his turn, to carry on.
Tears would still be shed… It was natural for that to happen, when this befalls.
But she knew her daughter now had everything, including The Great Father’s Love.

There are many types of Christmas magic, but as her time came to a close…
A mother’s love can’t be beat, except by God’s Love, for us all…

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Free verse | |

Deaf and Gone

I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...

       Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed, 
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised. 
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate?  If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us. 
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow. 
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you. 
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep 

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Free verse | |


                    “Once very near the end I said, 'If you can -- if it is allowed – 
                        come to me when I too am on my death bed.”

                       “Allowed!' she said. “Heaven would have a job to hold me;
                        and as for Hell, I'd break it into bits.” 

                         Oh God, God, why did you take such trouble to force 
                         this creature out of its shell if it is now doomed to crawl back
                         -- to be sucked back -- into it?

                                                     ~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


The division should be acute, 
the before her, the with her, 

                        the after her.

There is this constant 
rattling of doors, though they remain 
locked, in theory. I think of her 
as gone until I turn a page, 
read a passage of pompous 
dialogue and she returns,
My Joie de Vivre, 
entertaining me with that puckish 

play, unabashed.
She smiles in the dusk with crusading 
colours that bend dark horizons, 
changing clouds, unexpectedly. 

What was I before Joy? 

Content, pleasant, productive.                    
But was I alive, aware of life, 
its blissful rhythms? 
Irony defined: 
the heart which awakened stone 

                           no longer beats. 

Finally, I understand. 
Lessons are sharp things 
which infect both fresh 
and aging amputations. 
What do I do with this knowledge?
It is like learning a language 

that is no longer spoken, 
a long monologue 
unbearably forlorn, painful. 
Faith dismisses hauntings, 
yet she does so in daily degrees. 
O, the sweet ghosts that peer 

from those notes, 
my name underscored in margins. 
Why is there only one glove 
in the sewing box? 
Agony hunts me 
in the garden. Perfume almost, 
but not quite a match.  

Some rooms have snares. 
I dare not open a kitchen drawer. 
Pain waits there.
The specter of my former self, 
a staunch gent, so sure 

                            of Heaven's role, 

that cold bloke follows me 
into the shadows, 
land of man’s rage 
and despair.  There is no pretty 
death, no words can comfort 
the ravaged left behind, 
There is no poetry 
in our departing.

I only pray 
there is Godspeed in mine. 

Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan

Details | I do not know? | |

Empty Branches!?

Gray is gray

Cold is cold

The beginning of winter

The winters hold....

Empty branches

Emptier hands

Living but dying

Without any plans

Breathing; beating....


The best that you can?!



This barren land....

Gray is gray

Cold is cold

The midst of winter

Your growing old

Drying rivers....

Drier eyes

Another day closer

To the end, of your time!?



To the cold, inside

The dead of winter

The death of a life

The death in a world

That is dying; they cry....

Gray is gray

Cold is cold

The end of winter


The winters, toll?!

Note: A retro repose from the
Winter of 06 & 07, I believe?
"'Love,' Always," John!:) ~

Copyright © John Rhinem

Details | Narrative | |

The Old Rugged Cross Suffered The Worlds Greatest Loss


My favorite of songs is The Old Rugged Cross.
   The most tragic of days was the worlds’ greatest loss.
For sinners that day were all given their chance.
   His Father in heaven could not even bear to look not even one glance.
Forgive them He prayed as His life’s blood ran down to the ground.
   Can you picture Him there wearing that thorny old crown?
On that hill so far away, sad but precious memories were made.
    Born of a virgin mother in the tomb He was laid.
Death could not hold Him, death would not last.
    Three days in that tomb, so long ago, death too it would pass.
He arose and was seen by many it was said.
    Our Savior arose from the grave and no longer was dead.
As He gave His final words to His apostles and friends.
    He ascended to the clouds but they knew they would see Him again.
He made us a promise He would rule once again.
     I feel that day is coming we’re reaching the end.
The prophecies that abound.
     With each new day they seem to be coming unwound.
Are you ready my friend for the Millennium Reign?
     Are have you sunk to wearing the mark worn by Cain?
Sacrifices my friend we all have to do.
    Just look at Jesus and the sacrifice He made, was made just for you .
So on that hill so far away I kneel at the thought.
    With His precious blood my cleansing was bought.
And what have we learned, or did He die just for nought?
    I look to Jesus and His love I have sought.
He must come first in all that we do.
    And when the day comes you’ll see I speak true.

Copyright © Ronald Bingham

Details | Free verse | |

Love them and share with them...the poor and needy......

World is amazing,as described by philosophers
but...what actually in world is amazing
The suffering,of those caught by the waves of fate.
Why there are rich and poor,
god could have created only rich!
Then why did he do so,to make the world balanced.
Rich can serve poor by loving them and giving them,
so they are blessed with more.
Poor can survive with the help of rich.
Balance which is needed,created by our god...but, 
is it followed ?
Rich are becoming more rich and poor are still in the hands of poverty
Condition of world is wonderful.
God, fooled by the rich.
The balance of world is lost..
World fears god...its shivering is heard in many parts.
Help the world god.....please..

Copyright © Nivitha Ann Paul

Details | Free verse | |


Pieces of history 
We clutch to our chests
Life changing 


These events 
Which seek to crush us
Do not
For they hold us together

Making us stronger 

More firm are we 
In our resolve
To be one nation
Under God


Copyright © Donna Golden

Details | Heroic Couplets | |

Stronger Than She Thinks.....

She is a loving mother, 
 her pain is like no other.
Kids taken all at once away.
 A price too steep to have to pay.

Holds her head up high, 
 when all she wants to do is die.
She thinks her pain is masked, 
 but as you see, its no easy task.

She's strong and still fights, 
 even when they say she has no rights.
She dreams of seeing her kids, 
 trying hard to keep the pain hid.

She goes to court and really fights, 
 only to come home alone and cry at night.
Still, she continues this uphill battle.
 Her confidence, they constantly rattle.

Goes to work and tries to smile, 
 as her heart is breaking all the while.
Wish I was a much better sister, 
 who called and let her know I missed her.

I had my own tumultuous issues, 
 it was she who really needed the tissues.
I just had a crappy, low life man.
 By her side her family should stand.

Instead they all give her grief.
 Do they not see her pain will never be brief?
No, they all say they are sorry, but they're full of lies.
 Didn't they know it was her LIFE in demise?

A better sister, I'll try to be.
 Her back she never turned to me.
I hope she knows she's loved and cared for.
 Her smile I'd like to see more.

I know that's no easy task.
 But that I will still ask.
As they push her to the brink,
 She's stronger than she ever thinks.

A combined effort for Kristy.....

Copyright © Aleera Canino

Details | Free verse | |


For the precious little unborn souls - in the womb
But not given their chance to suck in the breath of life
To find their way through the dusty storms of experience
And to grow and blossom
Into the lovely beings they were meant to be

     .....Will there be Justice for them.....

For the families of people murdered - unjust destruction of life
Caused by those whose cruelty and selfishness knows no bounds
Waiting with empty hope for the peace they deserve
To see their loved ones avenged through a system
Set up to help those who caused so much hurt - the searing pain

     .....Where is the Justice for them.....

For the children caught up in the insanity of abuse
Their bodies and souls raped, their hearts starved for the love
And the affection that should be theirs - the wait
For the systems that are supposed to rescue them - and yet
They are returned to those who hurt them the most - and then they die

     .....Was there Justice for them.....

For the innumerable and wretched poor and needy of the Earth
Who are always with us - deliberately kept that way on purpose
By those whose greed has bled the Planet dry
With their hoarding of wealth, riches and unbounded excesses
Cold compassion - forcing the poor to help the poor

Ignoring the request of our Creator - To Share

     .....And Justice For All?
                                       Not Yet!

Written By:  Neva Romaine

(Original Post for "What is Your Form of Justice"-9/17/15)

Contest:  Trashed #2
Sponsored By:  Broken Wings

Copyright © Neva Romaine

Details | Imagism | |

Guilty Reflection

Looking dead at me in this smeared mirror...
a lost man
face red
and teared

stacking excuses 
the longer I stare
this stress abuses 
my conscience with a glare

a guilty reflection warns
my mind is the prison I fear
as I long to escape 
from the  hell I dwell in
right here

who have I become? 
what have I done right?
crossroads appear suddenly 
as fog fills the mirror tonight

darkness owning the room,
prefers I suffer slow
so I proceed with speed 
because it’s the only way I know

tasteless stories
flood my life’s hard bound chapters 
while this smeared mirror reflects tears
dripping from a face 
which was once filled with laughter. 

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Free verse | |

The Beauty In Futility

my heart breathes its last breath
Embraces its own death
Ready to be reborn 
and made anew

Can’t live a lie
Refuse to “do”
and I’ll DIE....
Focus now on why I’ll live 
And never touch the sky. 

I have to forget you
I have to reject you 
But I will never love anyone 
like I loved you.....

I heard you whisper 
and you never knew it
I wiped the tears from your eyes 
But you couldn’t feel it

You’re lost and you’ll never find you
And neither will I 
And I’m so sorry--
but I’m NOT. 

I'll attempt to reset
Try to forget
But you know, I never will. 

Be my dirty little secret 
My very worst-kept secret 
Sweet, smooth, beautiful poison 
My infernal and endless attraction 
towards complete and utter self-destruction 

I fell in love with the devil
And it will take one heck of an angel
To save me from the likes of you....

My addiction 
my confusion
my nightmare
my dream never to come true

Oh, I’ll never forget the times
we never shared
I’ll never forget 
how you were never there

Always me, the stars, and tears
And I ask you,
what kind of life is THAT?

I have to face the facts 
I don’t know what happens now
but it happens without you. 

The stains will always be there
the scars will never fade
But the memory of you----
it HAS to. 

I could carry the torch forever
But it would only consume me
I can’t cry another tear for you
Or I’ll dry up completely

It doesn’t affect you
and you never deserved me

You’ll go on with your life, too
All, all alone
Because you’ll only ever be in love
with you. 

Copyright © SLS It Is Rife With Ambiguity

Details | Acrostic | |


Mountains crumble no more to be 
Oceans of woe since you left me 
Thunder rolls and my heart it breaks 
Humbly life ends, my soul it quakes 
Everlasting grief with no mend  
Reminds me daily, it will not bend

Inconceivable, this pain I bear

My love's not gone, together we'll share 
In lasting glory at Jesus' feet 
Serenity and grace, oh how sweet 
Salvation unites on heaven's shore

Yesterday's gone, tomorrow brings more 
Only a moment in time we wait 
Until we meet at heaven's gate

Copyright © kanzazy hutchins

Details | Free verse | |

Want to live,but no bread for me

Iam Hungry...Thirst is uncontrollable
It nearly kills me,Cries a poor one..
A dirty wasteland that is his home
but its a heaven for him,His mom
sick in the bed,He is handicapped.
Worms are eating his skinny body,NOBODY to help him!
He is helpless...he want to live 
But waiting for death,Help him god i pray to you....

Copyright © Nivitha Ann Paul

Details | Rhyme | |

Where Has Dad Gone, Mama Dear

Where has dad gone, momma dear?
Hush, my little lamb.
Your dad's gone to the thicket dear 
And mad old Abraham

That man went early this grim morn, and took his sharpened knife
And with him took his own first born, to offer up his life
With servants and with firewood, both, they journeyed to Moriah
And on the hillside there they built an altar and a fire

And Isaac, when he heard the plan, went willingly, it's odd
That he should let that daft old man, so worship his cruel god.
Your father, he was passing by, and heard but could not see
And foolishly could not deny his curiosity

So closer did your father scramble peering through the thorns
Unaware of how the brambles tangled with his horns
Just to see a crazy man who planned to kill his kin
Your father did not understand the danger he was in

For then again that mad old man started hearing voices
His god was speaking to the loon and giving him new choices
And so his plan to slay the boy came about to falter
And Abraham, he took your pa and dragged him to the altar

But that was never fair, mama, can you tell me why
When Isaac he was all prepared and well prepared to die
And all had been decided on, so what cruel trick mama
Was played upon that grand old ram, who was my own papa?

Life is not fair, my little lamb, nor is it like to change
And fate plays tricks on all of us, both sinister and strange
So you take care, my little lamb, with this advice from me 
Do not visit places where you know you should not be

The moral of this story dear, is take heed of the odds
And stay away from two-leggies worshipping their gods

Copyright © Lee Leon

Details | Rhyme | |

Only God Can Answer

When I was very young, 
Dad and I would fly my kite.
So one day I finally asked him, 
"how does God make wind and light?"
"Only God can answer that."
He told me with a smile.
"So ask him when you get there!"
I nodded, then played a while.
When we first turned sixteen, 
my best friend got a brand new car.
We had plans for Friday night, 
but Wednesday, she didn't get far.
I cried when I hung up the phone, 
"Daddy! Why my best friend?"
He came and sat down on my bed, 
as we talked about the end. 
"Only God can answer that."
He told me with a smile.
"So ask him when you get there."
Then I laid and cried a while.
Further down the road, 
I stood dressed up in white.
The night that I'd been waiting for, 
I'd found my Mr. Right!
I asked, "Daddy why am I so blessed?
I seem to have it all!
When some just have no luck, 
they don't have much at all."
"Only God can answer that."
He told me with a smile.
"So ask him when you get there."
Then he walked me down the aisle.
Then thirty years flew by.
Two jobs, Dad's cancer, and my baby.
and Daddy's time grew shorter, 
and every day became a maybe. 
Then sadly the Dr. said "its time to say goodbye "
and by his bed I stood.
I just couldn't believe it, 
that he'd be gone for good.
"Daddy why do you have to go?"
I asked him as I sobbed.
I knew it was his time, 
but still, my heart felt robbed. 
"I'll ask him when I get there..."
he told me with a smile.
"If I even care! I'll meet Jesus in a while!
I know you think that this will hurt you, 
but these days are grains of sand, 
and heaven is the Ocean!
We'll be together once again."

Copyright © Ashley Beaudre

Details | Epyllion | |

Late Night On Salisbury Ave.

The meadow's radiance gradually dimmed
and evening littered far and wide
it encouraged the unfamiliar 
and everything uncertain.

The night accelerated sounds of anticipation 
as a thousand strangers loomed
and I thought him to be a foreigner 
until he glanced twice 
as his smile slightly dropped
 astonishment plagued him

Insecurity encompassed me
as I turned away in doubt 
betrayed by the numinous... 
that often guides my thoughts

He left with lady and child, to merge 
With a thousand anticipating strangers 
 and the northern lights sheltered me
  the explosions across the sky 
gave satisfaction -to so much expectation 
that unexpectedly emerged 

Then the night was briefly soundless; 
the applause prolonged 
as were my my immersion
and within what felt like only seconds
he was passing, 

 through a thin pane of glass 
all I could yield was a smile, 

a smile to the incredulity within his eyes. 

Enclosed with the evening...was the meadow, 
and the difference was indistinguishable.

Copyright © Angie Mae