Many years ago
They stormed the Bastille
Two hundred and one lost their lives
The tennis court oath however survived
Jacques had his heart with the masses
Necker could not be dismissed so easily
The storming of the Bastille was to be
The birth of a nation for all men free
And free men they were
Running naked through the streets
What they lacked in cake
The made up with in red wine
The Republique was born
A democracy in infancy
Would grow through trials and tribulations
To become a multicultural great nation
Lone angry men filled with such hate
I welcome you to Bastilles’ gate
Of medieval prisons long ago
It is there, you I shall throw
You kill in the name of a God
A God you do not know
Love has escaped from your very soul
Only hate tarnishes your bitter heart
The ghosts of Bastille are mocking
The coward who is filled with such animosity
There never shall be an escape
The soul of the dead shall eternally taunt you
A criminal with no compassion
You have only given us our determination
To battle for the peace of this great nation
You bring us tears; alas we shall turn them to wine
Naked through the streets we shall always dance!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
In churned up soil the poppy rose
On top of death, still steadily grows
And in our minds we see the crosses
That lie in rows and count our losses
Blood that drips from tiniest bloom
Beloved children, lost from the womb
Their essence blown upon the earth
For infinity, will show their worth
And so they marched by decree
A war they fought, so we could be free
The poppy, how we remember them now
So in silence we do reverently bow
One single day, just once every year
To remember all the horror and fear
To give thanks and praise, to those in need
Who saved us through unselfish deed
For so young when they said goodbye
With no idea that so many would die
In Flanders Fields where poppies grow
Innocence, now lays buried in each row
For those that did return safely home
Their spirit lost and so had flown
To fly away among the peaceful skies
With friends and larks with carefree eyes
In the thunder hear the roar of guns
Calling to all our native sons
Arise, arise, from sleep once more
For once again, there will be war
In Flanders Fields, the poppies grow
They cover our loved ones, buried below
Like a blanket, they protect all within
From a world that is ravished by sin
More souls will join them as the years go by
More wars will be fought, as the lark does cry
More fields will be filled, with our dead
And poppies will mark their graves in red
"Lest we forget and more shall die"
"In Flanders Fields our loved ones lie"
Copyright © Bernadette Langer | Year Posted 2006
A. W. Nutter
At fifteen, I was to young to become a father
At fourteen, she didn’t need to be a mother
We were old enough to have sexual relations
Unable to understand the implications
We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love
Parents abusing us for this sinful union
Adolescents fearful and full of confusion
Not able to cope with the adult pressure
The mothers young body goes into labor
We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love
My son struggled between life and death
I held his hand as he took his last breath
From my hands his little body was pried
The tears falling like rain from my eyes
We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love.
Occasionally the mother and my path will cross
Seldom do we mention or discuss our loss
But every year at nine, on the sixteenth of May
We both agreed, to light a candle and silently pray
To the angels watching from heaven above
Shower our son with mercy, show him your love
Copyright © Anthony Nutter | Year Posted 2009
The creaking of old hard wood floors
Flowers, weary with wet petals stuck to the pot
The absence of dogs barking and cats purring is almost unbearable
My own thoughts ticking by
The familiar smell of food does not waft
There are no lights on
Dust on the chair, the tv, and even my favorite picture on the wall.
The house, almost empty but the language on the walls speak, calling out memories
The presence of her comes close
Presence. Here I am.
In this place I am... I once had a dream,
A dream of sunshine moments and cold lemonade
The dust is now clearing as pictures become bright
Past becomes present and the roads of memories end at the horizon where I also end,
Seeping into the cold dark couch
In this sea of comfort it is an expression of love
for death is not a loss,
but past memories of life.
Copyright © KC Seligman | Year Posted 2015
Come and visit me in a dream,
And tell me how you are,
Are you floating on a cloud?
Have you found the brightest star?
I know you're with us somewhere,
Even though you can't be seen,
Painting the bluest sky,
Or among the grass so green.
As I'm wandering through the park,
Looking up at the trees,
Daydreaming of the joy you brought,
Will you visit me please?
Just send me a little sign,
White feathers on the breeze,
To let me know you're happy, free
And put my mind at ease.
Or ask a passing stranger,
With twinkling brown eyes,
A cheeky smile, and baldy head,
To nod as he passes by.
Or maybe play a special song,
Loud, on my radio,
That could have been written just for you,
About all the love we've known.
Come visit me in a dream,
And tell me how you are,
I know you're there, a floating cloud,
And one of the brightest stars.
Copyright © Sarah Judd | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
Almost three years now Daddy
since you were taken away
I thank God you no longer suffer
but I had so much more to say
But you and I were always very close
and I know that we still are
So be free to enjoy family and friends
I know you'll never be far
Oh but Daddy
Did I remember to thank you
for coming to stay with the kids and I
At times you thought you were a burden
but if anyone was it was I
And I want to tell you too Daddy
that you would be so proud of them all
Brandon's now a sergeant with a son on the way
Cam Jeremy is due early fall
And your little Sarah Daddy
you would be so very proud
She's a tiny little thing, still a great mom
and has the best boys in any crowd
And I'm sure you've been watching Curtis
So you know he's just like you
And he is living up to the promise he made
Yes Daddy I'm very proud too
Oh and one more thing
before I lay down to rest
Did I remember to tell you and the world
My Daddy's the best
Loving you and missing you always
Your baby girl
Copyright © J Dawn | Year Posted 2009
this is inspired by a picture of a guy looking at a piece of bread with one candle
on it, http://allpoetry.com/amyrowsell
today would be our first wedding anniversary
but I lost her, a month ago
a guy was driving drunk and crossed the line
that night he took the life of mine
you think that they would learn
driving is a privilege you have to earn
I hate him for what he has done
he took away a mother from me and our young son
nobody wins when people drive drunk
Copyright © Amy Rowsell | Year Posted 2008
Autumn winds sway the trees,
blowing, swirling dry brown leaves,
coats of dogs and cats get thick,
dusk is grey and comes too quick.
Early morning skies are pale,
fog becomes an earthly veil,
great piles of pumpkins crowd the stores,
Halloween candies by the door.
Iron colored is the sky,
jostling clouds hurtle by,
kitchens smell of pumpkin pies,
lightning crackles through the skies.
Meadows brown and fields lie fallow,
noon is bleak, the light seems shallow,
October is a month of death,
poppies draw their final breath.
Quick as death the summer's gone,
rain and tears are Autumn's song,
silent God who answers naught,
thirty years of answers sought.
Under bleak and barren trees,
voiceless sorrow no one sees,
weary souls detest their fate,
and search in vain for heaven's gate.
Yesterday was just a dream
of zippered lips and childhood screams.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2008
A box under the bed holds my whole life
Letters from my first love who later became my wife
The shoes from my daughter’s first steps
To the flower she held as I walked her down the aisle
I’ll always be your baby she said with a smile
The watch my dad wore as he slipped away
I stood by his side the watch stop ticking that day
The promise ring I gave my darling before we wed
I’ll never forget the tears or the words she said
A photo of my mother in her younger years
Looking at that photo brings me to tears
Cancer took her smile grace and hair
I lost it when I lost her it just wasn’t fair
So a box under the bed means a lot to me
Containing my whole life and what use to be
Copyright © Alberta Richardson | Year Posted 2016
I remember the first time we met you came round for a coffee.
I remember it well, we sat talking for hours, just you and me.
Over the next few years, We must have drunk hundreds of cups.
Life was a roll of downs, Then ups.
I remember the first time I met your Mum. All dressed in pale blue.
I think she was going to some special do.
I remember Jills first birthday party, even the dress she wore.
The house was full of friends and family and more.
Val and Grandma, Carol and Jane all of their familys as well.
The house was packed, certainly a tale to tell.
The Bell Inn at Ingolmells where we all went for a drink.
Then round to our caravan, coffees to sink.
I remember Claire as a child, the hours she used to spend at our home.
Every Monday on the way to Slimming World she got credit for her phone.
I remember all the things she used to help me with. shopping, baking,
washing the dishes the cups and the plates.
All this before she was even eight.
I remember so many things that we used to do. The bonfire parties at your
All the same crowd their having the time of their lives.
Then the big bash for my big Five O.
I wanted a really big show.
So we prepared all the food at your house, Then carried it all over to mine.
Only just got it all ready in time.
I did the cake it was a huge chocolate train.
Something big enough to get all the candles on was my aim.
Life throws some really awful things at you.
Some so bad you just don’t know what to do.
Our friendship spanned almost thirty years
A lot of fun a lot of tears.
When the police came round to our house that night, I didn’t even realize you
I thought you were just ill again, I found out almost a week later on
Especially as we had only been chatting a couple or so weeks before, About
On that day you looked so well with all your make up on, I thought you were
on the mend at last.
On your birthday in May I thought of you,
All the things we had been through, Rest in peace. Love Pat
Copyright © pat dring | Year Posted 2011
It has memory's
It has anniversary s
It has deaths
It has births
It has a lot for a little clock face.
It has weddings
It has dates
but above all else it stop us from being late.
Copyright © Samantha Cook | Year Posted 2012
(in memoriam, Eugene Lawler, d. January 29, 2012, aged 83 years)
--- Note: "The singing machine" is a not so tongue-in-cheek reference to Gene and his penchant for singing whenever and wherever he wished, as well as to his karaoke
equipment and his nickname at bars that featured karaoke nights. ---
You fancied yourself a singer,
and indeed you were.
What songs we heard from you
you had made your own,
and you gave them freely
to all who would listen
(though we were just a few
who were, at times, inattentive.)
Time and remembrance may color
the images you left behind,
and the sentimental songs
you sang (and scribed on silver disks
for us to hear when, and if, we will)
may prod us to recall
your willful, dour demeanor
which could bloom into benevolence
or darken further in stormy sneers
at tardiness, or at perceived
maltreatment of any sort.
You were your own arbiter of behavior
who kept before you expectations
of what was appropriate, for yourself
and for us, the others of your kind.
We were few (still fewer now),
who flocked together on occasion
to celebrate, in quiet fashion,
whatever anniversary we chose --
perhaps your passing date
will become another to be marked.
And your voice, reproduced mechanically,
amplified, may remind us of our loss,
and of yours.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2012
Here lies the best Grandfather,
One who was very considerate.
Remembering him as a child,
I would sit on his lap.
He was a rare person indeed.
He was a colonel in the Army.
Also superlative of a gentelman.
Here lies the best grandfather,
May he rest in peace.
Copyright © Sarah Cassleman | Year Posted 2013
27 Years ago, you showed me the door,
Because I wouldn’t do what you wanted anymore.
That day was the worst of my life,
I wanted to die, to escape the strife.
All I needed was a simple letter,
To give me a chance to get better.
Now when I look back and see, you certainly did
me a favour that day.
In 1986 Thursday the first of May.
From then on people listened to what I had to say,
Doctors and Nurses went out or their way,
I got the treatment I needed at last,
Bit by bit they went over the past.
One whole year is all it took,
A lot of hard work, a little luck.
To this very day I have never been back,
26 whole years and that’s a fact.
The last few years have been the best of my life,
Truly content being a Mother and Wife.
And Nanny as well,
Must not let my head swell,
A collection of poems all written by me..
My story in 7 magazines for the whole world to see.
A whole new extension to the house designed by me.
Also having to cope with the death of my mother,
Then four months later the death of my mother’s sister,
God not another.
Having my kitchen demolished completely,
did put me in a fix.
But being so well, even that couldn’t knock me for six.
So remember the next time someone begs you for a letter,
At least give THEM, the chance to get better.
For as long as I live I will never for get that terrible day,
Thursday 1986 the first of May,
The day that you showed me the door,
Just because I wouldn’t do what you wanted anymore.
They say that time heals all pain,
I’m lucky I’ve learnt to live again.
Copyright © pat dring | Year Posted 2011
Sarah Johnson is, and will always be a cold, heartless murderer. She has no empathy for what she did to both of her own parents, Diane and Alan Johnson. Her friends and family can't even believe that a sweet girl would kill both of her own parents over some guy. They knew that Sarah wasn't supposed to get into this so-called "serious relationship" with this guy named Bruno Santos. The illegal immigrant was three years older than her, especially when he is still known for having a criminal history. It's sad to hear that Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had to die that soon. The entire Johnson family had their lives ahead of them. Sarah Johnson is a heartless liar, an assassin, and on top of all that, she has no soul. The girl was afraid that both of her parents would go to the police and have her so-called "boyfriend" arrested and charged for statutory rape, so Miss Johnson killed them. Now, that was a cowardly move. The reason why Sarah Johnson had killed both of her own parents (mother and father) is because for one, they were going to send him straight to jail for dating a then-sixteen-year-old and they grounded her for life, as in, "indefinitely." Everybody, including her brother, knows that Sarah has no heart and no soul. But in the end, I guess society is better off with Sarah Marie Johnson in prison for the rest of her life. And as far as the citizens of Bellevue, Idaho, her family and her high school friends are concerned, prison is where she belongs. She wasn't abused by both of her parents, but I still can't believe she killed them in cold blood. Now that's what everybody's talking about: a cold, calculates sociopath with no remorse for what she did and had felt no empathy. Sarah Johnson will always be remembered as a bad woman with a selfish ego. And if all types of homicides (matricide, fratricide, and/or parricide) continue to increase, there's no telling what bad thing might happen next.
Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011
Peaceful and relax
At rest but traverse freely
Will to access all
Suddenly achieve by thoughts
As parameters extend
Embrace love without.
Copyright © marvin celestial | Year Posted 2014
The eye,a sign the
unwise can't comprehend
Forged from the world's
illumination in darkened
enlightened ones like
Leonardo da Vinci,Isaac
The eye is a tree
with many branches like
Priory of Scion,Knight
in all corners of earth.
The world is clothed
through wisdom from
The eye,all seeing
emblem of power and
riches to the lion hearted
and loyal souls.
A seat of influence and
Creating the social order
through men of power....
Some see it as a
curse,others a blessing.
I feel it,the great eye is
Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013
Life and death
Are mysterious things
You love a living one
in your Heart,
By your heart
You also love a dead one
But in your Mind, in your memory
When your beloved is no more
When she is dead
Your love shifts places
From Heart to Mind
You want her corpse to be removed
as soon as possible
and buried, burnt in fire
Or left to the vultures
depending on what last ceremonial plan
you believed in
and chose to perform
Living ones are loved
Dead ones too
but death is so scary
that whenever someone dies
one tries to get rid of him atonce!
Copyright © mazhar butt | Year Posted 2014
AS I’VE BEEN ASKED, I STOP
AND TAKE A MINUTE, THINKING
OF A WAR WHICH I WILL NEVER BE A
PART OF, I WILL NEVER SEE FIRST HAND.
A FEW FALLEN HEROES, WHO GAVE UP THEIR
LIVES FOR A GENERATION THEY WOULD NEVER SEE,
JUST SO THAT WE ALL WOULD NEVER HAVE
TO GO THROUGH THE TERROR OF A LIFE, A
HELL, WITHOUT ANY CONCEPT OF PEACE,
AND SO WE TAKE OUR QUIET MOMENT TO
STOP, AND CONSIDER THE SACRIFICE, TO
THINK UPON A FOREIGN FIELD, SOAKED IN
THE BLOOD OF MEN, OF BOYS. WE CANNOT
AFFORD TO LET THEM STRAY FROM OUR
MEMORY OR ELSE WE RISK REPEATING
THE MISTAKES OF THE PAST. AND
SO I THANK ALL SOLDIERS
PAST AND PRESENT.
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012
A mind filled with mazes
A heart to cold it shivers at warmth.
Has seen the good
The bad of the world.
To distant from life from others
To understand another feelings,
To torn to speak more then three words.
But for you I look with kindly eyes
And a soften smile.
To you I make this confession.
I be dark but you shine a light
With a gaze.
My heart is cold and nearly brittle away
But with one touch from you ,
Keeps it in tact with two.
Every memory of my past
Disappear when I gaze into your eyes.
I feel like our conversation could go on for hour,
Mountains of useless words and pointless subjects.
I tell you this
This is a confession, I send to you.
Even though you left me alone,
So many years ago.
This is the love confession that was always meant for you.
Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2012
Note: Giving good orderly direction.... " Give A little Obama Love "
To-day is a New Day
Time for people to Pray
If their were No Unity
Where would we be to-day?
Why is it..
That all of 'GOD' People
War Torn Today..
With nothing going on
With nothing to speak of..
So little to say!
So, looking back on Reflection
In a more Democratic Way
Let's give the Future back
To the Children
- And -
Let Jesus lead the way
So, Why not give them Love
Show them another way
Remember that Obama Care
Is a Health Care which is
Oh! so very rare..
It could really save the Day?
Do you know a better way?
It is meant for people with
Not for those...
Who just don't care!
For it is just an annoyance
Who really need Insurance?
So, if you have Insurance
And that is all that really
Matter to you...
Remember that their are
Men, Women and Children
Who needs' a plan too...?
For the Obama Plan is high
And Gods' People are too...
Note: Remember that if you need a Health Plan
then we need one too...
Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2012
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2013
Bury me not
In an old church plot
Back in my hometown
No, bury me
Beneath the sea
Where my Navy mates went down
Please take me back
To that day of attack
Pearl Harbor in 41
I’d like my remains
With all of those names
When my time is finally done
I fought beside
So many who died
There on that fateful day
Just grant me this
As my dying wish
That I rest where my shipmates still lay
There was an article in the local newspaper about Pearl Harbor survivors having their ashes buried there in the harbor. I just had to write this poem.
Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
I cherish your tenderness brought into my life
My heart sings with the rhythm of your voice
No one is better for the position called “wife”
You’re the best qualified, I have no choice
Searching the dictionary for love, is the wrong way to go
I found the definition with you as my source
It said “All’s fair in love and war
There is always a puddle on path with a course”
Sleeping is good but this is what dreams are for
Though if our love was a dream, I shall never wake
By seizing the moment with my soul to take
Our hearts shall never need mending,
As long as we’re together they should never break
I couldn’t ask God for anything more
Till death do us part I ALWAYS ADORE
Copyright © Darian Brown | Year Posted 2011
O to fade! To pass! To sleep! To die!
To live and to listen and not to speak,
Perchance some alternate reality
Is all my grim alienation does seek.
The thunderclap of Tawhiri raging
Silence not a loving fool's complaint,
Nor portend for whom the bell tolls
When the echoes of time grow faint
My heart alas, divided against itself,
Knows not what to say or what to feel,
And with ponderous words recited
I'm forced your resting place to kneel.
Some final absolutions shared alone -
Cold black rain upon my brow and cuff:
Judge not a froward son - I am who
I am, and have been judged enough
We are but the quick and the dead,
And, just or unjust, no keeper of time!
O tell what sin was imputed to you,
What concealed divine law or crime,
And what palsy so dark the lamps
Of Heaven and Earth burn less bright:
And do we in this realm find peace
Or is Death's victory our only respite?
Only in beds of posthumous sleep
Will end my unspoken confessions!
Nay, I no longer exhume the past -
It rebukes all my searching questions.
From umbilical dawn to end of days
I failed you - I added unto your woe:
In life and death there comes a time
When to hold on and when to let go
May your life and times early passed
Live on in the heart that lives in me,
For in all the silent screams below
Is mine own howl in mine own vanity!
As I pen this ode the charcoal sky
Has communicated more than I can tell,
No loss, no sorrow, no love unfeigned
Can unring that breathless tolling bell
Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014
Scores of suffering
stalwart soldiers stand steadfast
in scarlet-soaked soil
(C) John C Michaels, 2014
Submitted on the centenary of The Great War (4th August 2014), in memory of the sacrifice
of those who are no longer with us and to whom we owe so much.
Copyright © John Michaels | Year Posted 2014
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011
Close your windows; draw the blinds as day turns into night
Shut your door and wrap up warm with a bedside table light
Close your eyes and try to sleep but also stay aware
As what may happen in the night could seem like a nightmare
You'll start to hear the sounds of souls, moaning cries and screams
You sneak a peek around yourself but nothing is as it seems
From the ceiling drip by drip and down the walls it flows
Pools of blood soaked in the rug to ooze between your toes
Ghastly ghouls and grimacing ghosts trapped within their doom
Creep and crawl under your bed and float around your room
They'll slide over your covers and slither in-between
As they wriggle to whisper in your ear...
Have a happy Hallowe'en!!!
Copyright © Alexander Mandrides | Year Posted 2010
Alone now am I
Missing you more than any
words could convey,
In my heart ,you'll always stay.
Above the clouds ,you now reside,
With the Lord ,you now sit beside.
When my time is over, and the
I'll fly to you my love.
Memorial for the first
anniversary of his death.
C 2012 Anne rutherford
Copyright © Anne Rutherford | Year Posted 2012
Can I catch you
Can you stay?
Forests at wood
There we play
A gentle hand
That fixed the dress
Brushing tears back
I can not bare
The oaken wave
Can I save
I miss your hair
And what it covered
More than a mind
God knows I loved her
The ghost I knew
She rests away
I can not catch you
You can not stay.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013