Many times, I saw my spirit.
Many times, I felt my soul.
In life, I lived courageous.
Now it is time for me to journey home.
If you cry, that is fine.
If you laugh, that is better than a cry.
Rejoice in my life and shout praise.
For I am
Therefore, I shall be
In peace, I leave this world.
To my love ones, I am with the Lord.
Sure happy to have lived
Not sad that my time has come
The benevolence of the spiritual realm is a breeze from a waterfall.
The Lord is my keeper.
He called me home.
No more sadness let us all rejoice.
Ms. Carrie Mae Sexton is now reunited with Jehovah God Lord. A woman of statue...
A woman of worth... All that knew her will truly miss her.
Never a life lost but one done with the world and because she walked a virtuous path, her life is shown. The Lord knows best and we must know the same. Our mother sojourns and in peace, she lays.
[“Be assured that just as an hour is only part of a day so life on Earth is only part of eternity.” C.L. Allen]
User Name: Verlena
Psuedonym: Oblivion Dark Sunshine
Motif: Grief and Bereavement
-Contest Enter: Space & Time - Metaphorically written... Eternity is space and time... February 2014
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker
In my cradle,
My tiny body was cradled
In my mothers arms.
My gem among gems,
I remember when I cried
You comforted me with
your soothing words.
Your re-assuring hands
Secured me till Death's
Cold hands snatched you
From me,a sucker I was
That needed you most.
Adieu! Sweet mum till
We cross paths again!
Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu
Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu
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
Peace In The Light
I live in a drywall box
Sitting alone staring at my clocks
With landscape art hanging all around me
Its no wonder inspiration has finally found me
One day my mind forced my hand to start writing
About my parents in Heaven still fighting
Knowing their bodies lie beneath the ground
But believing that is not where there to be found
One night I dreamt of a beautiful house
It was on a sunny hill where I saw cats playing cards with a mouse
There was a young woman sitting on a porch rail
She turned to me and asked why I looked so pale
She told me she did not die
She told me I no longer have to cry
Then all of a sudden I awoke
Asking myself... “Was Mom's death some kind of horrible joke”
The Wake…The Funeral…
The Burial Mass…The Grave
Mom's dream message proved to me
She had risen from her Coffin in the Cave
Sometimes I wonder if Mom and Dad are really dead
Or are they living in my head
Can our parents be more alive than we think
Could they be some kind of Supernatural Link
Some say this life is a trial
With certain emotions recorded in our Spiritual File
We all experience wonder, joy, sorrow and pain
Some days… it’s a challenge just to stay sane
I pray our parents watch over us from afar
I swear sometimes… Their sitting in my car
Maybe when we experience life’s emotions
Our Parents are there recording the commotion
I bet Mom sews all day
She probably still has no time to play
I bet Dad writes all day
Will my sons ever find their way
Someday I will tell everyone
That Heaven maybe closer than the Sun
And even though our parents may not be here
When we take our last breath there is nothing to fear
Because what seems like a very dark day
Is really a small price to pay
So the next time you hear a familiar voice in your head
It could be your parents telling you they are not really dead
And I thank… GOD… I no longer have to write
Because my parents have finally found Peace in the Light
And some day when it’s my turn to go home
I will show my parents this poem
Joseph Adam Elward
Copyright © Joseph Elward
Gathered as usual to celebrate the mothers day
One by one the children went up to say
Just how much they loved their mom
While they call on her to join them on stage.
Earlier today on media and social networks
The pictures and stories of moms filled every where
Now it was time to proclaim to everyone
What a wonderful gift you've got for a mom.
Friends and family want this day pass me by
But I needed to be on stage to sing a lullaby
The very one mom taught me and others
And to tell them I love my mom as well.
I mount the stage just like the others
Brilliant eyes and hungry ears wait in expectation
Though I didn't call mom to join me there
But I told my story nonetheless.
And when I finished in a voice so soft but clear
I could see a spark of tear in everyone's eye
For I told them of a bond so rare
And I sang of a love so dear.
"Mom would have come but for her journey
Though she couldn't make it but I don't love her less
I'll say all about her, it will help you imagine
First you should know how much she loves me so.
She loves to tell me stories and taught me how to cook
She tends to my injuries and taught me how to farm
Although you can't see her, I'm not standing here alone
She's always a thought away, that means she's here with me.
I'm proud to stand for the love we shared
I know she'd be here but heaven is too far
She was a true soldier who died at her post
Fourteen years of diabetes, she couldn't fight her ghost.
Sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like she never left,"
So I closed my eyes on stage and there she was beside me
I think others wanted to see her too, for when I opened my eyes
A room filled with mothers and children, had their eyes all closed.
I think if they didn't see her, they at least felt her presence
For a very cold breeze blew across the hall and carried with it a sweet scent!
And for a moment I had this relive, that heaven is never too far
And this year mothers day celebration, I can say is my best.
Copyright © Stellamoses Hart
where are you
If You were here
i haven't seen you anymore
except in some
this world is not fare
some people spend their lives in misery
some in jails
and the rest
in gated communities
afraid we will go and take them out of there
but its not easy
they have the guns
and if you think i'm there
you are wrong
this is their heaven
i'm somewhere in the middle
crying for you
and miss you so much.
Copyright © Dino Spahillari
Milo and Me raised by Mom and Dad, in that small mountain town-
A little more than 66 miles from Albany.
Dad and Mom faithfully provided their best for Milo and Me.
Yes-it would have been better if we had been sustained-
by some rich family.
Most things that happened on that street have NEVER been spoken of-
by Milo and Me. To painful, to dreadful and DARK, even for the Spirituous heart.
I guess we made an unspoken pact, between Milo and Me, to-
Never, Reveal what took place on that mystifying,Non-illuminated, Murky Street.
You see for Milo and Me--we always knew of HIS Devine Majesty.
Tales have been told and fabrication declared- to even the most paramount.
But--for Me and Milo- we always knew of GODS providence.
We knew- that someday, HE would overtake the misery-
that happened about 66 miles from Albany-on that Street.
For Milo, he went into some Rehab--you see?
Somewhere Near Albany. For Me, got married a second time to a wife-- and had a family.
I guess this is where Milo and Me, took different paths into life- or it seemed.
I definitely miss Milo and those GLORY days of our youth-
all the beer and reefer parties, can’t you see?
On an old abandon meadow and STREET called Solders Field-- is where we partied.
Only GOD and the few that were there in those days would know
what Milo and ME did on--THAT STREET!
Tales have been told and fabrication declared--But--I will leave it to that.
This re-memorable time I will never forget.
I lasted a short moment-- maybe a week at best.
Then it came to pass for Milo and Me, to part life’s path-
with seemed repeatedly. For Me and my family, we stayed and lived in
that Historic Town-just about 55 miles from Albany.
So-- once again- let Me take you to the end of this story.
We will travel by a make-believe time machine.
Close your eyes- Close your eyes- so you can’t see.
Fast forward we go to the year 2010- now you may see!
But-- for Me still there-just 55 miles from Albany.
I have most assuredly miss Milo, after all, it’s been ten years-
can’t you see? I miss him as one of our family, even though he marched so far away-
into some foreign state. Milo, Milo--- wherever you are, I will always remember you-
-just as you were.
By :REV, Dr. MEW/WEM/EMW
Copyright © Wayne Mattison
The asphalt against my face
Sirens in the background
My fresh warm blood censuring my eyes
Over whelming feelings of regret and remorse rush through my mind
What am I to do in the last moments of my life?
To lay here and cry or to quietly die
Or to scream for help or to fade in the night
Wish for a new start or to pray for what I had.
What about my mom and my dad?
How are they going to take it without me by there side
I didn't get to say good bye or tell them how much I loved them both.
They should now that I will always be there with them.
I don’t want them to be sad, they should be mad, I made the selfish choice.
Having them by my side would make this better
To have my dad tell me “Its okay son we all make mistakes”
Or my mom to say “I can relate to how you are feeling, and that it will be okay”
But it won’t, because I’m feeling my hopes and my dreams all slipping away
Like a leaf falling off a tree on a windy autumn day.
Copyright © Joshua Burke
She's the Pit Bull,
The Cat That Came Back,
and Humpty Dumpty,
all rolled up into one.
For the many mistakes she has made,
she paid for it a million times over.
She is broken,
destined to live in pain.
she ponders her photo's of the past.
Where she is King,
ruler of all.
Kingdom of smoke,
where all have claim.
But back then,
she couldn't see this far ahead.
The gestures have grown,
the wolves hide,
no one can be found.
Our King has fallen,
by the hands of the enemy.
all is lost.
The princess calls,
but her voice is lost,
in the thick roots of the overgrown unkept past,
no one will come.
No one will come.
Copyright © Bethany Phillips