I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here
I can’t get back in control of my emotions
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy
I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help
Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
Birth begins the tragedy in us. Life's
First sound is a blank scream
Against sorrow's hidden portends of strifes
All we know are mirages and dream.
Mother took the news staring at the sky
She must have cried inside
For I have no evidence else. There's no why
For it ... how my rage defied
Her callous front ... he was her first boy
The only hero she spoke well
Of, his name was the formula for joy
In our house: anecdotes tell
Of his escapades ... youth defying fate
He had a cat's tenacity for life
And from evil wills found a golden gate
Of scholarship and exotic wife.
I remember when the years pulled him back
All he came with was a bag
Of books, and a couple suits in novel sack
His eyes time warped, a lag
Of missing years and loneliness enfolding him
But he was handsome still
And my soul cartwheeled at joy's fresh brim
Those moments that he filled
When eyes first contact spelled pride to claim
This aristocrat like a medal
I could wear. So young he was, her true flame
The son of love's sweet recital!
And many days sitting in his shadow, I heard
Him dream big things like stars
Far away, warm things like a fluttering bird
Things made bright to cover scars
In the sore of memory. His mind was his cliff
A risky place in the high winds
And closer to the edge for the Grail he'd drift
O how the giddy world spins!
He died in Kingston: William came and went
And my mother looked at the sky
But until she died, about his memory was silent
And I forever wonder why.
I loved him, you know, he was the first best thing
A poor child had to claim or show
The world ... with him I was no more common. A king
He made me in his gold of glow
Something that I looked forward to meet in me. I,
Like mother, been silence since
But sometimes my heart just heave and would cry
For time this love cannot rinse
And I that moment cannot comprehend, that death
Gave no notice to his lauded day
And like common dust on a wild wind's balmy breath
My brother was swiftly swept away.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
A memory of tears filled eyes
How can I forget this precious aisle?
The aisle you walk in your gown-shy
Now carries your silent and dire
How can I whisper to you love
How you looked as a dove
Ah! The memory is green and fresh
The night of our all white and thresh
Look at you o! Once beautiful aisle
You are my dread on you my light fade
Sermon given to my love as she goes to grave
The grace I ask to face this maze
Copyright © OJOBO EMMANUEL | Year Posted 2012
was just a cat
a dear friend
of sixteen years
for humans i’ve not shed so many tears
Child of God
has been put to sleep
the feline way
so they say
nor was any soul more loved
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2015
The leaves have turned brown and crisp
And I've remembered
How much you've been missed
On a day like today
It's the days when I feel down
And I'm sad
That you're not around
Desperately in need of a grandpa's embrace
You were like my best friend
And I'm yearning
For the hours we'd laugh on end.
Now I'm doing quite the opposite
The memories harvest in my mind
As I bow to your grave
With flowers of all kinds
Commemorating the part you played
In shaping the person I am today.
A granddaughter that misses you dearly.
Copyright © Emmy Weatherill | Year Posted 2015
sometimes in mass
as sacred songs
wash over me like rain,
I break free
and again you rise,
your tears flow
as tears fill my eyes,
your dying breath
after so many years,
the knife still cuts
and again, and
(20 May 2015)
Copyright © Steven Federle | Year Posted 2015
Sometimes I am glued to the Earth
See every tear,every laugh and every fist…
Sometimes my mind is flying above our world…
Hear every thought…
But even there I have no silence
In my mind the violence I’ve seen…
In my mind memories of heaven where I've been
But memories are past…
And even though they last
They can’t replace the smell of heavens grass
They cant replace every tear every laugh and every fist that there I’ve had
They’re just memories
I wish I was able to go back
and feel home…
Copyright © Zeki Majed | Year Posted 2013
written 22nd Oct 2013
Even after sixteen years
still I cry your daughters tears
Every year on this day, will always be sad
known only as the date, God took my dad
1st June 1954- 22nd Oct 1997
Allan Thomas Holmes
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
No more new toys for you
No more bread at breakfast
No more noisy shoes on Christmas
And no more having more
Did i kill dad?
Why then the corporal punishments?
Because dad lost the job
Dad lost the breath
Dad lost the plan
Dad lost you
Dad is no more
Why punish me not the job?
Dad got money from there
Can i go and get it?
Not now but one day you will
What about you?
I will go but i have to first make you know
That i am not Dad because he took off
Now he is sleeping
We have to spend less
Work a lot
Why don't you awake him?
He is dead!
What does that mean?
It means close your eyes
Sleep in a big box
People dig a whole hide you there
And you disappear forever
Wow that sounds fun mum can i join the game?
Its no game, its painful game of loss!
Mum, you cry when i climb trees
When dad wants to go with me you scream
But dad always makes cool choices
You don't understand son,
Your father has played the superman game
The monster broke his neck
And now he is lifeless like your toys
All the people that came here were on your Dad's funeral
Your father is dead
You are now an orphan, son!
Mum, dad is in the game
I know dad he will rise again
Kick the monster, break its neck and throw it in fire
Like what he used to about Jesus
And you will know he is not like my toys
I know son
Right now you cant understand but later you will
I know mum
Right now you cant understand but later you will
In memory of my late father who passed on in 1993 while i was a little boy
Copyright © Rodgers Roger Muhereza | Year Posted 2013
Change comes sometime late August,
a mellow presence to the day;
a gentle sun, supplying friendship,
joins me walking in the lane.
Between defiant borders, autumn's late bloomers--
proud yellow, maroon, and red--
Queen Anne's lace adds frilly softness against weed hardness,
a smiling feminine face.
The gardens yield their richness,
spilling ripe bounty from over laden arms.
Peaceful is the attitude autumn offers;
a tender sadness shapes the edge
where silent stone markers gently gather
beneath trees' reverent, flame-haloed heads.
The year is slowly dying . . .
not fast gone like these quietly remembered,
my beloved dead.
September 10, 2014
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
Flood waters gushed in
From all sides roaring dreadfully!
Only sinking heads of water reeds,
And a few hut roofs could be seen,
That too remained shedding tears;
As the dark cloud-mountain burst.
Mango trees lost arms, some shoulders,
Coconuts perched on its strong boughs;
The mighty survivors of all seasons.
Snails, Frogs, Snakes and gnats,
Ants, bugs, Lizards, spiders,
Set out their conventional exodus!
King Fisher and Woodpecker found
Abode in hollow jack fruit tree!
Poor and feeble mass, hunger-stricken,
Assembled by the wet school floor,
Waiting for the next charity food-serve;
Hot porridge and wild-roots boiled.
Burning chilly dish would add heat
On their ice-cold tongues.
Mothers had their saved rags in lap
With their tender ones mewling in,
Their ribs netted with wrinkled skin.
Fathers looked at the skies and winds,
Returned to the old wooden benches,
Cursing their fate, while the slant drops,
Pierced on swollen flood-waves.
A blind fight of ripples large and small
Left yellow froth wear a taunting smile!
They could not hide the dismay of
An impending disaster, that would
Shatter their small dreams
Into many a chips, beyond bonding.
Stars got blind by the broken clouds
Ascended from the verge of horizon.
Nocturnal chorus of legendary frogs
And of beetles added awe and gloom.
Some slept with open eyes and sense,
As they knew how dreadful the water
Might turn in the monstrous night,
Sweeping off every trace of existence!
Copyright © Tajudeen Shah | Year Posted 2013
I could see their daughter next door
across the spare green land,
cutting herbs from the garden.
Her hair, dyed brown, hanging in rivulets,
jumped in time, to her taut breasts,
like hungry soldiers at a feast.
And I remembered when I was eighteen,
what the world was like.
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015
Tipsy, we were together
Happiness, we lived together
By the malls hands we held
Love unsaid you led
In truth, I knew we were friends
When first our roads so met
That no fiend will do us part
In love, in trust and happiness
Living to love, our betterment
Pains, joy in togetherness
Until the day you pressed the pause
Like a woman in sudden menopause
When medic in sorrow announcement
Alone now I sing, mimicry of your song
But today this dirge I sang
Because your mouth stopped to sing
Copyright © Abimbola Mosobalaje Davis | Year Posted 2015
Let me sing this song
Dozens words in my yearning rhythm
Delivered within the wind of autumn
A single pray, only for you
In this moment of silence
Bearing clearly in my mind
The love we have given one another
In our years of sharing
You embraced me with endless love
A love that cannot be compared
And it lights my sky forever
Made me a woman I am
We are destined to have each other
Since my first breath, until your last
So I sing this song for you,
Copyright © Shirley Candy | Year Posted 2013
While watching "Name That Tune" reruns
I taste the garlic she used to put in the Beef Stew...
Thinking and laughing
about something we had done together...
Bittersweet mem'ries of days gone by...
She was my Mother, and now she's gone,
but she lives on in me.
Her mannerisms...her smile,
her eccentric ways of cleaning...
Her mood swings...laughter..tears...
Her struggle with alcoholism,
and my triumph over it.
I loved her dearly.
In loving memory of
Della Jeannette Ham
9/24/20 to 10/20/94
Copyright © Cynthia Palmer-Ham | Year Posted 2014
She’s rolled up with patience
dedication and faith in the Lord;
her strictness punctuated a shared vision
that focused on learning acquisition.
Her punctuality, precision, and determination
to teach her pupils with discipline and right focusing;
as a rule of thumb she always obeyed
made the essence of what music means to all.
Rain or shine she’s there in her cubicle
waiting for her pupils scheduled to take their lessons;
those Hanon exercises, arpeggios, and other finger articulations
would lead off in concentration or warm-up in every lesson.
Perhaps she’s a scarecrow to some who hadn’t known her;
but she’d a listening heart described as a story line;
with depth and assurance that no one is denied,
along with other slow learners who coped with perseverance.
Truly, her endless word to slow down in every measure,
her technique that entailed so much discipline and correction
through memory lane I still remember a constant repetition;
her affinity for perfection that requires discipline and proportion.
She’s a teacher keenly aware of her pupils’ emotions,
her generosity explained either in time or learning a score;
as a sign and meaning to pedagogical association
with thriving efforts to play the music with technique and precision.
She’s held in the affectionate memory of her pupils,
their collective thoughts about her fittingly honored her
a woman like her with a horizon of meaning to everyone
a true Filipino educator with a glowing torch in her soul
and her music sustained my vocation to go on.
Its magical link to depth and soul of human expression,
its beauty and inspiration that kept me to deepen my own calling;
to make piano sing in the balance of emotion, technique and celebration
a way to experience Him with wonders and beauty – limitless world.
Maraming salamat , Maestra Marina M Diokno!
I really missed you; I really treasured whatever you taught me;
your strong affinity for virtuousity, allegato and sostenuto,
indeed, a memory lane suffused with gratitude and threads of appreciation.
Copyright © mark escobar | Year Posted 2012
Poem written near a Cemetery 1 of 2
On 13th February 2012
While moving near the walls of a cemetery,
I saw the glimpse
Of a bunch of some tiny wild flowers,
Blooming in the golden Sunlight falling on them,
They were waving their simile,
With every gush of wind,
On the monument of a deserted grave.
For me it was a new and exciting experience,
To enter in that cemetery of eighteenth century,
What had brought me to that spot,
Where those wild flowers were still smiling,
Remains a mystery
Every time, I think and rethink.
I saw hundreds of monuments and tombs,
After entering in that preserved cemetery,
Some were telling the story,
Of the grandeurs of its dwellers,
While others were there,
Standing without a crown or a story.
The grave on which, I saw those flowers,
Was not showing an appealing face,
Age had withered its luster and charms,
And time had left its marks on its face.
Being in the last line of that cemetery
It was waiting in the long queue,
For some kith and kin of Sophia Ress,
May come some day and
The face of that noble soul’s grave,
May once again obtain its lost glory and grace.
There I found those lonely wild tiny flowers,
Still blooming and smiling and dancing,
With every gush of wind,
Telling silently a beautiful story of its dweller,
As if, they were paying their homage,
While remembering her lost songs and images.
In the morning hours of the Autumn,
The tree leaves were falling,
Everywhere on the ground,
And some were even falling on me,
Either to tell the universal truth,
Of the inevitable departure of everyone’s one day
Or perhaps to accompany me,
In that graveyard of all those,
Who were totally strangers for me.
After watching that grave and
Appreciating those tiny flowers,
I explored each and every tomb and monuments,
Standing in the memory of those British,
Who had lived a royal life during those days,
When they lived here and ruled my country,
For a very long time.
Kanpur India 18th Feb. 2012 concluded in Part 2
Text of the Stone on Sophia Rees Owen
"Text of the Stone on Sophia Rees Owen
In the memory of Sophia Rees Owen
The beloved wife of H T Owen Esqr.
Of the H C Civil Service, who died on the 27th
Nov.1834 aged 31 years 11months and 18days.
Leaving her husband and Six children to lament
Her loss. She was a sincere friend, a truly
Attached wife and a devoted Mother.......
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2012
I fear death, not quite death but yours, and not yours but mine
I guess I fear my death in being your survivor, but not quite
I fear grief, that it might consume me once more, but not mine
I guess it is your sorrow and despair at death that is drowning my life
I've been here before; I don't know how I survived or what inside me died
I had so many questions that she never answered; they never left, never died
So your gasping breath brings back my sorrow from that walled in stasis
I teeter on the rim of a well that reaches grief's bottom blackness, I lied
It is not your pain I fear, it's mine. I did not survive her deathbed
I never again lived. I died with her though peace I never found
I don't know if it was her death, my loss, hers, or the death cycle
But the air has stayed musty from graves while I pretended not to care
I don't know if I was there for her, or how she felt that last morning.
My memory lapses with that of the child I was then into dreams of gray
I don't know the pain of death, if it is worse to leave or know you are leaving
I don't know if she found peace or her heart broke for me or because of me.
Sorrow swells as the memories fade in, filling that well with blackness
I know that if I don't fall, it will rise up to suffocate me again
If I jump I will lose myself and never find you to say goodbye
My memory lapses, I think I jumped, did I tell her goodbye?
I fear my grief. Grief is all, nothing before or after exists.
I fear that grief will over shadow my mind and I won't be there
I fear that this sorrow will rob me of the words to say I love you
I fear despair will take my soul and this time I'll have nothing left of home.
How do I ask you to share this life with me when I don't know if I'll survive your death?
How do I ask you to live each day and don't let me run when I ran from her?
How do I ask you to believe in me and don't fear when I fear myself?
How do I ask you to comfort me when I'm too afraid to comfort you?
I never asked her to hold me again, to comfort, because she was the one dying.
What right do I have to ask the sick to comfort the healthy, the dead the living?
And how could I, being the first spirit to die, ask the ones who speak of life still
to comfort the shell I left behind while theirs decays before my eyes?
There are no comforts to sooth the guilt of living, but forgiveness will birth new life.
Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2010
A truant blizzard's hurl allowed shadows hide
when the night was pale. And all the dark ravens yelled
as I buried my cat, last year, frozen and dead. That all
the lilies of in between, wailed of my Christmas eulogy.
For the contest, A Christmas Memory,
Sponsor, Broken Wings
Nov 21, 2015
From Franco Gonza
Copyright © Franco Gonza | Year Posted 2015
Thus when the winter pulls out all stops
and leaves our cherished sunflowers all behind
We got but memories of bronze before us then
so let us lend repose to what lied in the close
The last rose in the garden.... that took my breath away
stunning to perfection
but where is it today?
a picnic in the park.... oh, that went very well
such sweet things you would say,
it made me happy gay
I thought that you were gone... oh, but I was wrong
running tabs on yesterday's smiles,
brings you back a mile;
The bitter winds of March... have found their way
and still I wander on our parth
with nothing else to say;
We were content just you and I,
as moonstruck as the gliding loon by glassy sea
I'd like to think that youre' still here by touch of hand
What is that sound I hear inside the pelting rain
perhaps it's you, singing our last refrain'
or maybe it's just me, going a bit insane.
Inspired by: Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966) Poem entitled:
I have enough treasures from the past
to last me longer than I need, or want.
You know as well as I . . . malevolent memory
won't let go of half of them:
a modest church, with its gold cupola
slightly askew; a harsh chorus
of crows; the whistle of a train;
a birch tree haggard in a field
as if it had just been sprung from jail;
a secret midnight conclave
of monumental Bible-oaks;
and a tiny rowboat that comes drifting out
of somebody's dreams, slowly foundering.
Winter has already loitered here,
lightly powdering these fields,
casting an impenetrable haze
that fills the world as far as the horizon.
I used to think that after we are gone
there's nothing, simply nothing at all.
Then who's that wandering by the porch
again and calling us by name?
Whose face is pressed against the frosted pane?
What hand out there is waving like a branch?
By way of reply, in that cobwebbed corner
a sunstruck tatter dances in the mirror.
Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2015
Sadness Looming, darkness brewing,
Spirit heaviness ensuing
In preparation, anticipation
Of my annual day of mourning.
Time may pass but memories last
And though the gathering years go fast,
Still I hear you; still I see you;
Towards you still my thoughts are cast.
I miss you so, and even though
You are not here, and on I go
There'll always be a part of me
That keeps you near and holds you close.
July 31, 2015
Copyright © Moira Cameron | Year Posted 2016
but sleep escapes
her face only
my mind quakes
close my eyes
Toss and sigh
the sun will hide
Copyright © chris vold | Year Posted 2013
As I stare up at the sky,
I sit and wonder why,
God has taken you so quickly,
when you have been saved so recently.
Only to perceive
and I believe,
that at Victory Baptist you came to rest,
so that you could meet Jesus and be blessed.
Because in Heaven,
you were expected,
he needed you to heed his call
and be able to turn away from it all
And if you did not have a chance to say,
good-bye to your family,
you will be reunited with them one day
and until then they will think of you daily.
So, now I kneel and pray,
asking God to lift their grief away,
that he allows her to meet them at heaven's door,
so that they may hold her once more.
That I have to post this upsets me:
My poems are copyright. I am sharing my
poems for you to read not for you to
post willy-nilly to a website, in
your newsletter or anywhere else with out
my permission. I am available, leave me a
message. Especially to those who change
the name of my poem and not give proper
credit. You should be ashamed!
Copyright © Alesia Leach | Year Posted 2014
We take turns stabbing
with our shovel at rocky clay dirt
until the cut's deep
enough for what little remains
of our family dog.
Warm wet salt drops--
on my tongue as
I sip wine from a fragile glass
Stare through to hawks
swimming in October winds
circling hills full of Diablo
full of still,
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009
Slow I wail on the road of no return
Like a soul that departs from its body with no respect
Silence I talk to get
To soothe the pain I didn’t prepare
In the jungle of no trees I sit
To prepare for my last breathe I take
Mother! Mother! I cry
Thunder storms that wawl
Slow I speak
but distance death drags me on
Help! Help! Help! I pull
But in the midst of no where I creep
My last respect they give
But silently I sit to weep
Very well they wish I match on
But poorly I know I live on
Mansions I suffer to build
But in the coffin I didn't prepare to live
Nothing will ever seem right
In this game of no fame
Copyright © JOSEPH TAYLOR | Year Posted 2016
My lips are sealed
Tightened by pain
Locked with secrets
Perhaps I should tell you...
My life and my memories,
My troubles and struggles.
I could teach you a thing or two,
Respect, loyalty and class,
The 1950's and the 1960's.
If you want to know my dear-
Look beyond the tears in my
Translate the tremble of my hands
That is how you speak my language, petal
it's much more than words.
Copyright © Emmy Weatherill | Year Posted 2015
Haze and mist
that you once belonged with me
but angry foam and sea
that it could not be
Is this just fairy tale
is this a fancy
or am I simply dreaming
a reality that once was around me
for I am rarely blessed
She was once here
warm and near
but that was long ago
faded upon yesteryear
Melody and Rhyme
distant through time
alone, hesitant, and silent
weeping alone upon a wearied stone
and this is my only recourse
Memory, chilled and gray
But memory that has yet to fade
Be with me
Copyright © John Allen | Year Posted 2008
For James (Jim) Burns, Rest in Peace in Heaven, Grandpa.
I can't help but wonder how you are,
You have been taken away from me so far,
I can't help but think of the past,
And hope your happiness will forever last.
Copyright © Molly Alcorn | Year Posted 2010
It’s hard to believe that you’re actually gone
Seems just a while ago we all went out to eat
We all had fun and were surrounded by family
Everyone smiling and laughing and enjoying life
But who knew that a while later you would be gone
No one really expected this or knew when you would depart from this life
We all should be rejoicing instead of mourning knowing that Taleah is at ease
The bible says “I am not alone, because the Father is with me”.
So we all can rest assure that she is doing a whole lot better
While Taleah was here on earth her spirit seemed so high
She didn’t complain, at least I didn’t see it
And she maintained her faith although things were being thrown at her from left
Even when in pain she fought it out like a child of God
Never letting the Devil wear her down
All he wanted to do was stress her out and make her feel worse
But we can all laugh in his face because we know that he lost the battle and God
She leaves behind two beautiful daughters, but they are in good hands
God will continue to watch over them every night just as he did before
We miss her and love her very much
And believe that God has so much in store for her
REST IN PEACE TALEAH AUSTIN!!!
Copyright © whitney houston | Year Posted 2007
A trigger was squeezed.
Gunshots echoed through the streets, follower by an unnatural silence. How
could it be a life was taken? The silence immediately interrupted by questions
like who, when, where, how, over and over again we asked ourselves why ???
The questions faded out, as our minds were assaulted, invaded, and over ran by
grief, sorrow, morning, pain, and sadness. Sadness was short lived. The sorrow
abruptly turned to guilt, anger, hate, hostility, and thoughts of revenge with a deep
longing for vengeance. After many harsh thoughts of retribution a sea of endless
tears flooded the streets. We all anger over the withholding of the truth. Together
we mourned your lost. “My loving caring, compassionate son, my brother, my
nephew, my uncle, my cousin, my lover, my friend, my neighbor, my big brother,
my lil brother, my hommie, my shorty, my round, my dog, my boy, my child taking
by the streets ahead of your time.”
We all felt this family and friends alike, not I, you, him, her, them nor they. Leon
it’s for you: we cried at your passing. We frowned at the way it happen. Yet Smiles
illuminate the darkness when we’re asked about the way you lived. My son
though you were taken from this world by injustice, far away in heaven well
beyond the stars may you open your eyes. Through the masses your memory
shall survive – Music, pictures, tee shirts, poetry, rip tattoos, and the ceremonial
pouring out of liquor. Through us, I pray may your memory live on not stained by
the evil that stole you away. Through us your family, friends, and from time to time
a casual stranger, you will always be remembered as you lived. Rest in peace to
My Tru Solider.
A SOUL NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN!!!
Copyright © michael bushnell | Year Posted 2007