Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.
On the day the Lord calls me home I will not be
afraid as I know He loves us one and all and to this
earth we are only on loan
We have spent all our lives here with family and
friends and so we leave this earth to go home to be
with our Lord and our family and friends who have
gone home to Heaven before us
And so our lives go full circle as the Lord sent us
down from Heaven to accomplish the things He wants
us to do here on earth and as we complete this we will
be called back home to heaven to live forevermore
I am not afraid as I patiently wait for my call to
enter the Kingdom Of Heaven where I will wait for my
family and friends to come home and be with our Lord
Poems Of Inspiration (OLD) Contest
7th Place Winner
A million times I've needed you
A million times I've cried
If love alone could have saved you
You never would have died
In life I loved you dearly
In death I love you still
In my heart you hold a place
No one can ever fill
It broke my heart to lose you
But you did not go alone
A part of me went with you
The day GOD called you home
Your precious memory is my keepsake
With which I'll never part
GOD has you safely in HIS keeping
But I have you forever in my heart
Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair
Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee
Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark
She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?
To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife
Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest
And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear
And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber
She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee
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.
I remember all the nights we use to play,
but now I can't play anymore because your not here today.
Your here in my heart and that will never fade away.
Sometimes I would be a hard-headed child,
but in your eyes you saw an angle smile.
I love you like God love the family, unconditionally.
I remember your brown eyes, gray hair, for you were wise.
I also remember when you had to leave, so your soul could be free.
See, I'm older; more mature, and understand what's going
on, but back then I was only four.
I still remember that day like it was yesterday.
Well, you were buried that day and everyone had a sad face.
I remember that day very well indeed, as I looked at you
and pleaded that you wouldn't leave me.
Now you’re gone and I have to be strong for both
of us, so our love can live through people who love us.
Pain is all I feel in my life,
For example, like being cut with a knife.
Since I was born,
Pain is all that’s come to me.
I don’t understand,
So I ask just one question, Lord Why Me?
I’ve been hurt in many ways,
And no one cares they just want to get paid.
Why does money have to cause so much pain?
So much pain, that I cry more than it rains.
Pain is what my heart is mostly full of,
Cause no one cares, but the man above.
In an effort to immortalize you,
I gilded ocean size frames in gold leaf
and painted your portrait with peacock feathers dipped in oils.
I spelled out your name in bumble bee wings
still quite attached to tame bumble bees
hovering in obedience and formation in the sky
I built a piano from felled red wood trees
and carved your likeness on each key
which I then filled up with ebony and abalone polish
I traveled to Old Russia to the Crimean forest
and pulled every wildflower up by it's roots
and replanted them just for you, on the cliffs, overlooking the Black Sea.
I tamed a black leopard and rode on her back
'round the world, with a banner, a list of your accomplishments
flowing in silk for miles behind me, past onlookers reading your life.
I sang gypsy music, as a siren on the wind
while I wept and flooded each street with the depth
of one tenth of the emotion you harnessed and kept at bay in your infinite quiet.
I started with one person, your granddaughter, with your blue eyes
her sitting on my lap, looking at me with a maturity past 3 years of age,
and imprinted every memory of you in the air, for her to grab.
You are not immortalized in portraits, or wings, or notes.
You are not immortalized in flowers, or banners or sirens.
You are immortalized, forever remaining, in the humble prayers of this innocent child.
Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013
I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over
Taught me to fight back
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over
He gave me my stubbornness
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over
How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my brain worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over
Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on
I may stumble I may fall
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over
Sabrina Niday Hansel
I suck at dying poems
Chemo poems, Metastatic Cancer poems,
Hair falling out in the shower poems
And I told a half truth
When I told you I could write you one
In less than six months (It's been eight)
I apologize for being so late
I wanted your poem to be pink and graceful
Like those ribbons
I see all over the internet
Filled with cheesy generic rhymes
That read like a Hallmark audition
But already my metaphors are melting
And my similes are getting soft
I guarantee you the rhyme meter will be off
When I went to Google
And the typed in the word 'happy'
Three billion links came up
Not a single inference to
Breast cancer, hair loss
No redirects to mastectomies
Yahoo wasn't any kinder
The only thing research could teach me
Is that a good day on chemo
Is when your stool doesn't come out tar Black
And has no blood in it
Or when your urine
Smells better on Wednesday
Than it did on Tuesday
Sleeping less than 12 hours
When 24 would be better
America has more poets
Than it does alcoholics
And Pot smokers combined
And you chose me to be
Your Breast Cancer
Trusting me to write a poem
About the biggest battle in your life
So I refuse to finish this poem
Without something bright and hopeful
And don't think
I didn't notice your Facebook activity
Had decreased by 88%
In the last three months
And you aren't really
Coming to any more of my poetry shows
Ever again. Are you??
But we still have March, April
But even if you had one breast
Or no breast
Or if you had less hair than I do
I promise to look only in your eyes
And never ever even notice
Or even think about it
And never for a moment
Would I feel sorry for you
Yes I suck at lying too...
But I don't suck at loving you
Or at hoping you wake up tomorrow morning
With no Cancer at all
And that The Eiffel Tower will be right outside
Your bedroom window...
And I would be right there with you
Holding your hand while we look down on Paris
And you can impress me with your French again
And if I ever make it
To the Pulitzer Poetry board
I might lose a thousand points
Just for this poem alone
And my hopes for the prize will be smitten
And some old person
With white hair will say
That was the worst love poem ever written