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Lost Husband Poems | Husband Poems About Lost

These Lost Husband poems are examples of Husband poems about Lost. These are the best examples of Lost Husband poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Saved My Life

I went back into that dark, dark place 
Were demons dwell 
And 
Lives are taken away
But
Through the pain 
And 
Through the tears 
You were there and kept me near. 
You saved my life by loving me; 
Your silent strength was the key. 
Gentle touches and silent words 
Let me know that love was the cure. 
Depression is my evil curse, 
And 
When it planted the seed of death
Your love washed it away 
And
Gave me the strength
To seek the help I needed to keep it at bay. 
I’ve walked that dark path so many times 
I’ve done lost track, 
But 
Things have change 
And God’s given me a special tool 
To help me through, 
I have you and Joshua too, 
And 
Rooted deeper is the knowledge 
Both of you want me to stay a little longer. 
So like a drug addict that has lost their way
I start the road back to brighter days,
And
There are not enough words to say
I Love You 
In every way 
And 
May God bless us ever day.


Details | Rhyme |

A Lonely Man

He lives on his own
Far away from life
In a sheltered glen
Since he lost his wife

Nothing can replace
The previous years that he had
It was timeless and loving
He now lives alone and sad
 
Surrounded by emptiness
Just like his heart
His family is now nature
Life at sixty, his new start
 
In a run down bothy
On the Cairngorms, above Aviemore
The Scottish countryside consoles him
His heart now a lonely sore
 
Everyday when he awakes
He thinks of his dear wife
Out of the window he looks
Out there is his life

He lives of the land
The best he can
Sometimes he heads into town
A lost looking man

The years have passed by
He still lives on his own
His loss finally accepted
Into his lonliness, he has grown




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-2.php



Details | Rhyme |

Dry Tears

I can’t cry
Tears won’t fall
Dried up forever
A built up wall

You can’t hurt me
I’m too numb to feel
The lash of your sting
This time it’s real

I’ve lost the ambition
And drive to do right
I’ve lost the admiration
And the will to fight

I can’t cry
My tears have disappeared
I can’t give you back
What you stole over the years

© Stacy Lynn Stiles


Details | Free verse |

If I Forget

If I forget,
Remind me of your name
As it must have slipped away.

If I forget,
Show me a photo of my face
As it surely has changed.

If I forget,
Take my hand back to that place
For I've certainly lost my way.

If I forget,
Breathe a gentle breath in my ear
If will calm my fear and rekindle the flame.

If I forget,
Bring the heart straps
That held me to you like glue.

And if I forget,
Carry the memory of us
It is lost but a treasure on a raft on the waves...

TRS, 09/13/08


Details | Free verse |

Your Death - Dedicated to my Husband

As I see you take your last breath
I cry and scream in agony
For I have lost my best friend and
The only man that ever truly loved me
You knew all my secrets
You knew all my faults
And loved me in spite of them

Now I feel bitter regret
Because I have missed so
Much time with you
And now it is too late
I have lost you forever

You were the only one 
Who was ever true to me
You would have ripped
Out your heart if I needed it
Though abuse and betrayal
Found me because of you
I always knew how much
That you loved me

Despite the many faces 
That you have encountered
During your lifetime
I was the only woman
That you ever loved 
Though I was full of
Many imperfections 
You saw me as 
The perfect woman
In every way
The devotion you have
Shown me surpasses
That of all of the romantic
Tales that have ever been told

Now all I can do is
Cherish your memory
Like I should have done
When you were alive
Your passing does not
Only mean the ending 
Of your earthly existence
It is the death to the
Beating of my heart
For I cannot live
Without my soul mate



Details | Bio |

give up

i give up my life, with you. i give up my all i had with you,to be here with 
parents ,aged and old ,guilt upon my head ,like rain up on torment,ive lost ,lost it 
all, you, my children,my life ..do i even have a soul?ive loved and lost ,lost so 
many times over .but ,when is it my turn ,to have a slice of happiness?? nearing 
54 years,what have i to show?lost babies, lost husband ,whom i love so 
much,,but guilt ,guilt rains heavy on my head and heart,to leave the parents who 
raised me ? to leave the husband ,who loves me?death would be ,but a closer 
thing to me ,to love and embrace...to leave the sad and soulful memories, far 
behind ,to dream no more ,to love no more...to be no more.....


Details | I do not know? |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | I do not know? |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Rhyme |

What Does Marriage Mean to YOU

What Does Marriage Mean to YOU?

What all hear various definitions
 of what marriage means.
Not realizing the consequences
 this often brings!

There’s often a lack of commitment and faithfulness.
Many still looking for a true source of happiness!

This institution, that God set up as a husband and wife.
Needs to have his spirit,
 to guide our life!

It’s no wonder why, there’s many falling apart!
It’s causing heartache and many broken hearts!

No court in the land can wash away sin’s dark stain.
When adultery happens, things aren’t the same!

May we all seek to ask God
 to strengthen our home!
He’s there to help us!
 When we feel all alone!

We need the blood of Jesus to daily cleanse us!
He wants to do this!  Because he loves us!

Jesus remains committed, faithful and strong!
His word will teach us what’s right and wrong!

May we seek HIS guidance and council!
You’ll find, that he is always most helpful!

Please Jesus… Heal the broken families
 across this nation!
For only you can provide
 a much needed foundation!

By Jim Pemberton  


Details | Free verse |

My Future Generation

I can act insane
But DO NOT 
Make me feel worthless

I belong in God’s family
He will bless my future generation

Don’t punish me for
Being myself –
Don’t envy my glee 

I can act like an
Adult, but I’d 
Prefer to have joy…

Not stress…
That piles upon us in our 
Everyday lives

Being childlike is

A rare beauty – 

No one prizes it…

No one came across it…

In this lifetime…

I can laugh all day
I can make you smile
If you’d accept my 
Childlike dreams of mine
Don’t treat me like a sick swine

Renew my young heart
Give me the ability 
To kill the old man…

I have my place in God’s family
He’ll be adored and glorified 
We’ll exchange prayers and hugs  
By my future generation

I beg of you – 
Don’t kill my childlike mentality
I’ll behave myself…
I’m positively sure that I’ll make you happy

I’ll still have pieces of a child in me

And pass it on to my future generation…


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