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Brother Memory Poems | Brother Poems About Memory

These Brother Memory poems are examples of Brother poems about Memory. These are the best examples of Brother Memory poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

Ryan, Where Are You

            
Ryan, Where are You?
Hey Ryan, where are you? It’s been a while since the tragic summer of August 1992. Not even a final adieu – Not a single word of good-bye, Just leaving us high and dry. How could you just up and disappear? Like a dark shadow in a grey mist not really there. Gone to heaven or God knows where? Ryan, did you think we wouldn’t care? One day here – The next day gone; You always said that tomorrow’s not promised to anyone. Now, you’ll never get to see another glorious sunset or dawn.
They told me you were run over by a Brooklyn-bound train. Neither the police nor the coroner could adequately explain - Was death instantaneous or did you suffer any pain? Who’s to blame? An untimely death - Was it your fate you met? At birth, did the Three Fates your destiny set? Or were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time, An innocent bystander who hadn’t committed any crime? So cruel Atropos used her shears to sever the thread of your life, And the incredible pain of losing you continues to cut deep like a butcher’s knife. But, my dear brother, your treasured memory we will carry with us always, Through your children and in our hearts ‘till the end of our days!
Entered in contest "Favorite Poem You've Ever Written" sponsored by Carol Eastman (6-14-2014)


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


Details | Narrative | |

He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know


____________________________________________________________
Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.


Details | Lyric | |

Don't Cry

Please don't cry over my casket 
For I am not there 
Please don't cry at my grave 
My soul has been set free 
I know it's hard not to cry 
I've been down that road one to many times 

I have no more pain 
I have no more sickness 
And I would not change a thing 
As I walk threw the gates of Heaven 
Mom Dad our brothers and sisters 
Will welcome me with open arms 
Here I am free of that pain 

Don't blame yourself 
It was my time to go home 
This is where I'm supposed to be 
Don't dwell on things which you can not change 
I will always be in your heart 

I will always be watching over you 
When that day comes for you to come home
I will be there to welcome you 
With open arms
And walk you threw the gates of Heaven 
You will be greeted by our family & friends
Who came home before you 
Until that day I will be watching over you


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

My Dad

My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom. 
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed a Octagon home in the 70's 
Built custom by hand . I was very proud of Dad .

Alcohol hit our Family , a curse .
He left my Mom when I was 14 in Illinois.
To renew in California , leaving a trail of tears .
Meeting my step mom , my sisters age .
My 2 sisters they were accepted in her world . 

Not I , I looked too much Like Mom . Told this all my Life . 
She a petite Beauty , RN , real estate Broker .
I did not see why it was wrong to be like mom ?

I moved in with Dad, His new Wife , and 2 sisters 
eventually . All three women were competing for my Father .
I was kicked out at 16 yrs.

Years do pass , you try and accept people places and things .
At the end of Dads life , he was calling me once a week .
I ordered a Engraved Clock for the Fathers day coming.
This was a issue for the Wife and sisters , never invited to his new home , 2 Decades ~My little Brother & I , never wanted .

Dad passed suddenly one sad Spring Day . Not one word from his wife , all 3rd party,  how and when,  Dad Died . being denied the right to his address , even to say goodbye .
Not being able to send my engraved clock . 

 "Dad Passed " received call  from sister whom just stayed a week with me ,  I took her all around the sites here . "1st day I get call , you should come , 2nd Day after , Dad's been cremated already . " It was a lie.

I went anyway , finding the funeral home, the Funeral Director was appalled at the denial displayed.

He insisted I was given 10 minutes alone with Dad , my Birthright to say Goodbye , he was in dismay over the Hostility towards a daughter ~

I get to this room of mean relative's. His sisters , Mine, angry looks , hearing from a Aunt "What is she doing Here ! " I can't give nor reason or rhyme. 

 Shame to you and all that participated that wicked day.
 Are you Glorified with Power?  Denied the right to grieve , 

 Left with no sane answers to give in hatred received by Blood . Some , just Spouses , telling me I had no right to Say Goodbye to my own Father , My DAD .

My Dad wanted me there , I know he did . I love Him and will never forget , his youngest girl whom looked like Mom . I know in my heart and dreams he speaks. 
 We all see when we leave . May God not allow any Son or Daughter to go through such Evil.

Thank-you Poetry Soup for returning my voice .


Details | Light Poetry | |

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.


Details | Free verse | |

Not a day goes by

Not a day goes by 
that I don't remember you.

A castle in my heart was made for you,
from the nightmares, to guard you. 

As the cold breeze passing through sings,
wrapped you, shielding with my wings,

when he came sneaky in the night,
the grim reaper, he dares might. 

with a slash from his scythe,
he took my wings too.

Flightless, wandering lost,
tired, fell kissing the dirt. 

Woke up one morning,
in the middle of the woods.

Down on my knees, pleading you,
"Dear brother! one word from you will do."

For now I know what love is?
but none I have to share it with.


Details | Ballad | |

William part 1

I ask all to be open minded as I tell the story of my friend,  William .
There are so many prejudice in this World , from color to sex 

To me it has always been the soul , the person inside 
For one that is shallow will not experience life in true blessing 

William my friend was African American , he was fun and personality full of 'I am here "
William was Gay , William disowned , William called "A queer "

Well this is a lesson for all to know
God does not care what color , but the heart , what color it shows .

I had left my 1st Husband , with 2 children I had to support .
I was depressed , felt alone in the civilian World of a sort 

For when I got to Monterey bay , I was on a Military base 
Very shy and recluse , not leaving the perimeter of the land 
I opened such a big door when I left that abusive Man 

I had the tiniest apartment with 2 little rooms , probably 550 sq. feet I presume .
I will never for get the night He came to my door , William ," Girl, lets go dancing 
Let's go explore ! He called me 'The platinum Blonde "

We went out together and danced , he was amazing ! William energized any room . He Lit it Up ! 
For he had something inside his beautiful soul , no money could buy, nor silver or gold.

Well years went by in Monterey bay , I had fallen in love with a man , Lost so much time .

Time went by , after the man broke my heart ,I remember "where is William "
I missed something that lies  deep in my heart . The true Love and friendship of he I craved .

Now this story is long so go to  "William part 2  "be patient , be brave .


Details | Free verse | |

A Stone

Loss (2/11/2014)

It is a stone that cannot be lifted
Planted into the earth of the soul.

Buried under the cat that he drove over 
Pressing it into the ground in the ridges of the tractor tire.
And the jungle gym of his arm that I swung under
Long hair, laughing.
And tongue sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, an old apple
Brought in a brown bag to the field at noon.
Shouts and a broken plate, his fist to my face.
And his hands under his head folded in worry.  
The girl he loved was getting away.
A single red rose in a small crystal vase 
on her concrete steps.
Talking on the green couch downstairs of the past
Of the future.
And the letters from San Francisco, 
The letters from Carolina, 
The letters from Japan,
Begging for baked goods and promises not to enlist. 
The launch off the rope swing into the Missouri,
Profanities screamed over the current into the bright sky.
The stick to Harley’s leg for one more day.
Sneaking out my bedroom window
Drinking a bottle of rum in the tent in the front yard
In a marijuana haze.
My white dress, dancing, his blue and gold uniform,
My manicured nails in his hands and his head over my shoulder
Tears on my back.
And the new girl who wore her own white dress.
And his eyes reflected in his sons
Tiny pieces of him in his arms.
His voice so gentle, so close to them.
Jumping and screaming, laughing bedtimes, 
Children being thrown upside down 
Tickles and goodnights in the nightlight
The darkness in the windows waiting.
Cold beers on the front porch, 
The hum of the crickets call 
To the moon.

Dirt on a stone, 
Dirt on a stone.


Details | Acrostic | |

TALE

T he story of two brothers who fought for their country,

A ll wars did they fight with valour to victory,

L ife did give them honour and ranks,

E nd of the day life gave them only sorrows and regrets.

A~D


Details | Free verse | |

Das Ein Mannlein


Das Ein Männlein

The silent echo reflects through the lodge,
Ein Männlein Steht im Wlade ganz Still und Stum…
Repeating itself in the young boys head.
He is not yet a man, but stands proud enough to be,
Coming back here to relieve himself of his past.
Crying out as he reaches the splintering and tilted door.
The memories of the cold, the blistering cold overpower him.
He spends time collecting himself as the moon moves across the sky.

He had been here with his family-
Says the toppled dining room table.
He also wasn’t the only child in the lodge-
Says the curled up paper dolls in the fireplace.
There was music- Ein Männlein Steht im Wlade ganz Still und Stumm…
Echoes the toppled ivory-keyed piano in the corner.
There was a war, as the Russian Graffiti on the wall complains.
The crashed bomber-plane with the seat full of bones assures that fact.

He came back to the rotting lodge in the forest
Back to the overgrown pile of shambles to find something
As he digs he picks objects out of the rubble, a boar’s head, jewelry, dog-tags,
And finally the thing he seemed to have been searching for.
A baby’s bathtub, with a scrolled handle, stares at him through the dust.
What happened to the other child?
She still has all of her baby teeth in her sweet little baby head.
She’s been sitting in that bathtub ever since that horrible night.
When she was boiled to death by hungry war criminals. 


Details | I do not know? | |

For Anene Booysen 1996 - 2013

Hamba Kahle Anene Booysen! (1996 – 2013)


Dead at 17, brutally raped and left to die,
in the dirt,

 

at a construction site in Bredasdorp.

 

‘horrific’, ‘repulsed’,
‘brutally raped’, ‘shocked’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

murdered at 17, brutally raped and left to die,

in the dirt,

 

at a construction site in Bredasdorp.

 

Anene was raped,
savagely mutilated,

 

Her 17 year old body tossed aside,

 

by the hands of men.

 

Men, always men,

 

cowardly, beastly, perverted, twisted men.

 

‘Beastly’, ‘perverted’, ‘twisted’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

who now lies cold and dead.

 

How many Anene Booysens will it take,

 

for us,
society,
families,
people,

 

human-beings,

 

and,

 

men, especially men,

 

to excise the ghastly menace,

 

of the heinous capacity that resides,

 

within men,

 

always men,

 

to brutalise, rape, mutilate, and murder.

 

‘Brutalise’, ‘murder’, ‘rape’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

murdered at 17, brutally raped and left,

 

to die,

 

in the dirt,

 

at a construction site,

 

in Bredasdorp.

 

 

Anene Booysen
(1996 – 2013)

 

* – Hamba Kahle – “Farewell, Travel Well” in Zulu

 

** – Bredasdorp is a small town near Cape Town, South Africa


Details | Lyric | |

Africa National Anthem

Africa we strive African we rise Africa we shine Africa we stand We rise we stand we shine we believe we leave to live Black of luck we rock one blood one desire same history true stories Different tongues one tone Africa we strive African we rise Africa we shine Africa we stand Source of beauty Fountain of favor Gifted by nature Shaped by the creator Africa we rise Africa we strive African we rise Africa we shine Africa we stand Mountains and rivers Black and white we stand We all cherish Beasts trek The sun shines Hope rains Africa stands Africa we strive African we rise Africa we shine Africa we stand God we treasure Hope we bare Love we share Africa we bare To all we care Africa we strive African we rise Africa we shine Africa we stand


Details | Free verse | |

Messiah

You’re the shining sun and silver moon, Glowing brightly in my heart, Your words soothe my thoughts, And for once, I don’t worry. Though we couldn’t talk much, It’s like I’ve known you all my life. But I don’t. I want to know more about you, Who you really are, what you look like, I want to know more about you. Unlike others, I’ve been given a messiah, One I could talk to about anything, Guardian angel, are you worried about me? I know I get hurt a lot and I hurt others. I know I’m tainted and cruel, I’m sorry. Can you forgive me? I don’t know what I was thinking. I regret it and I want to take it back. But I can’t… So, as I repent under a perpetual, gray light, Let us enjoy each other’s company, For I know all too well, Good things come to an end. Family, Friendships, Life, Love… So, may we hold hands and share an embrace? Just for a moment, please, Let us share a moment of eternal bliss. May 17,2013


Details | I do not know? | |

They Left so Abruptly

They Left so Abruptly

(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)

the valiant ones
countless
many known
many more nameless

the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends

they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity

they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
brighter
hopeful
filled with promise

they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice

they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift

freedom
inkululeko
swatantrata
liberte
azadi
vhudilangi
libertad

they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
today
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await

they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more


Details | Lyric | |

Passion ILLusion

From the black canal,
I awoke into a beast of light.
Eager wishes through my very blood and soul,
an illusion as my memory told.
An illusion so real it seemed so true.
A beautiful woman with plenteous silken hair,
stood bare from end to end before my eyes and
flowered a smile, as my memory told.
The thirst of my soul rose, I moved near to touch her
and she vanish.
I turned and there she was bare from end to end before 
my eyes.
She laid in china blooms,pure and simplistic,
as my memory told.
An illusion so real it seemed so true.
I laid next to her and she cradled in my arms
with eyes entire.
Her lips were sweet to my desire,
as my memory told.
The harping angels rose, devil passion wrestled the tides 
of fate and drifted in.
She moved in circles, and the circles moved, moved, and moved.
My body mart to a motion not of my own.
In the heat of passion, I awoke from the black canal into a
beast of light.


Details | Free verse | |

An uncommon alpha b poetic thread we weave

When writing righting poetry proceed with the following corporeal caution:

assimilate before u ass assume
build before u buldge
concentrate before u copulate
deride before u dicktate
engulf before u envelop
fantasize before u fragment
grasp before u germinate
hallicunate before u hypocrate
imagine before u initiate
juxtapose before u jauntilate
literate before u luminate
memorate before u mentorate
nuture before u negate
obligate before u obliviate
postulate before u prostitiute
question before u query
resonnate before u recreate
sonitate before u saturate
tintilate before u translate
utililize before
Xpectorate before u Xstinguish
yuletides before u yelltides
zoneify before u zilchify
it's all in the mission of word wise portrayl
of a mindful sour sequence of alphabet 
anomalies grammar given and humoheld in
a grand garnered elementary entrailed
existance teacher tilt trended to a 
mellow mystic grandeur of let me be me in a time 
when I/me was a boring blend of boyish bother
to all around me and time spent was to inculcate
myself into an artsyfartsy minimammal of intertwined
mealymouthed measure of pre white trash tinsure
trying to find the holy grail of boyhood benign banality trying
not to succomb to impregnating my 8th grade girlfriend
with streetsmart gonadial groovy greatness guided by degraded
inacquaricies from a teen trotting hormonal hack brother
who lived his life between the legs of others. (No father included) 
I savored the insanctity of him and kept it in my pants until further notice
and then had to be coaxed agressively upon annointment after marriages
annoyed. I then procreated to a purposepoint proper designated to
choicechosing the astrosign compaticosimco with the signs at mind, and 
holy fecal matter, it worked wised with wanton willfuness,  
thank God for 911 and. Save me Jesus.  


Details | Ballad | |

Back in the Day

Back in the Day
     By Dane Smith-Johnsen

It was back in the day of buggy and horse
Long before cars were made,
That a small farm boy, too young for the fields
Stayed home at the cabin with me.
Since this young boy who stayed was only a tot
He with critters and bugs would play.
It was great fun almost everyday.
Watching him play from the porch.
We were more than friends romping on the land.
Brother and sister were we.
With a bond that brought angels above great joy
Seeing me with the boy.

And this is the reason it hurt so much
Watching that day from the porch,
The woeful sight came in view oh, plight.
It happened in broad daylight.
Folks working in the fields came fast
To see what help they could be.
Our older brother's gun had fired.
I saw it all from the porch.

The angels looked down with sadness and said
What a dreadful fray we see—
Yes, and Mama knew it (sixteen years old, 
Is too young to have a gun.)
Oh, woeful sight in my afternoon view 
His memory is clear to me.

For our bond was stronger by far than the bonds
Of those who came running to see—
Of those who full of fear did flee--
There was not one angel in Heaven above
Relieved one spot of the sadness in me 
Forever together love bonded with him
Sweet feelings remembered by me.

For the heart of my brother forever entwined
With the horrible sight I did see
And my soul deep inside to that memory binds
And prays for eternity, we--
Although late at nighttime, when I kneel by my bed. 
I start praying, praying for my young brother dead.
And the bonding between him and me
We shall siblings eternally be.

(Written in the style of Edgar Allen Poe)


Details | Rhyme | |

You can't have my son

From a boy of seven 
As i grew through the years
In the back of my mind
That constant fear
 
Memories of my brother
Been knocked down
Brought nightmares and horrors
In memory drown
 
Adult life reached
Kids born and growing
But when that Wednesday came
Past memory showing
 
The call that i dreaded
Had come that day
Your son's been knocked down
On his bike, as he played
 
In my office at work
I fell to my knees
Thinking back to those angels
Release him please
 
Hospital i reach
Tears in my eyes
Now I'm the father
History cries
 
Cubical entered
And the sight i see
Is my son Liam
Crying for me
 
I got knocked off my bike
I have a hole in my leg
 
As i thought of the angels
Who heard what i said
Crying like my father
At his sons hospital bed
 
 
" Dedicated to the angels who released my son that Wednesday "


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php