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Mother Loss Poems | Mother Poems About Loss

These Mother Loss poems are examples of Mother poems about Loss. These are the best examples of Mother Loss poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

Belongings

Shadowed in the silent room, the daylight's nearly gone
Dusk climbs in through window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high
to mother's boxes neatly stacked, and dust gets in my eyes

I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair
I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair
Discovering old photographs, the year was '42
Her face was smooth as porcelain, unblemished, young and new

Old documents and letters, a history unveiled
Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell
The next box held small china cups, so lovingly embellished
And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished

Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered
Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered
Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches
A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches

I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom
The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room
She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air
My loneliness is free to go, I know that she is there

Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all
Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small
A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried
Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside

These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown
She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known
I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers
I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours


____________________________________________________________


Details | Pantoum | |

Wayward Child

Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.

Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.

Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief. 
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.

We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief. 
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.




Details | Rhyme | |

Suicide Mind

What makes the decision
To flick the switch
To end ones life
For the sake of it
 
Troubled, debts
Bullied at school
Fork in the road
To let death rule
 
Mums, dads
Daughters and sons
What ever affects them 
They just can't outrun
 
Sadness and tears
By all left behind
Will they ever understand
Suicide Mind


Details | Rhyme | |

Angels Cry

She was at her window listening to the rain
Mind just wandering, immersed in pain
She was wondering if it was true that angels cry
Each time they see a child die

They took some tests but it was too late
It was in an area they couldn't operate
She smiled at him and hid her fear
They said at most another year

How much pain can a mother endure?
To look at her son and know there is no cure
There are no words that can even start
To soothe the pain in her broken heart

The days and nights went quickly past
The time had come he would breathe his last
Her faith was put to the supreme test
The day she laid her child to rest

She is alone and prays each day
The memory will forever stay
Sometimes in her prayers she just asks why
And she wonders if the angels cry.


           From the book Voices of Hope.. Thank you Crystal.


Details | Ode | |

Mother's Bookmark's

My thoughts they roil like waters dark 
in the abyss of blackest night, 
with memories of mother’s bookmark,
of Longfellow read by lamp light.
She called, in the room around me,
the patter of other small feet.
Her gentle voice fetched angels	.
Oh, the rhymes, they astounded me 
like lullabies soft and so sweet.
All fearsome shadows, she’d dispel.

Maxine, my queen, read Tennyson
and the Charge of the Light Brigade.
A little girl dreamt of caissons
roll, and thunderous cannonade.
To be so brave, the small child mused,
mother her precious, heroine;
what would it take to stand so strong	
without father, and not confused.
What words could be the linchpin
to right mother’s tell-tale wrong.

Such sad inspiration, mother,
oh, how I wronged you by being born,
though I loved you above all others.
Some thoughts of you make me forlorn.
Bring back the tales of mother goose,
three small kittens and their mittens.
Return the vision of your smile
the happiness your warmth induced,
let your spirit comfort, lighten
night, if only for a little while.





Details | Quatrain | |

The Whispered Song

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.



Details | Free verse | |

A Child's Prayer

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares down the darkened hall.
A solitary line of pink light sneaks through a crack in the door.
Fighting tears hanging loosely in my eyes, I listen.
 
“Please tell daddy that I love him and miss him.”
It has been two months since he died. Long, hard months.
“Keep him safe.”
His smell still lingers on his clothes in the closet.
“and bless mommy to be happy…”
How can I be happy, or even smile, when all I want is to be numb?
The tears burn in my eyes, but I can’t cry, or I might never stop.
“so that she will play with me like she used to”
I can scarcely recall the last time I was able to focus; to give her all my attention.
“help her to forgive me,”
Oh sweet baby, it’s I who needs your forgiveness.
“help her to love me again, even though sometimes I’m bad”
Oh God, is that what she thinks!?
“and please help me to find dolly so she won’t be scared tonight”
Ok, focus…just breathe.
“in Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares into the room lit by a solitary pink lamp.
I sneak through the door, with tears rolling down my cheeks,
and enter with a promise, that all her prayers will get answered.

05/31/15

Submission for Prayertime Memories
Hosted by Isaiah Zerbst


Details | Rhyme | |

They'd

They’d …

They’d cuffed me when in error
They’d hold me when I’d be ill
They’d calm me when in terror
They’d wave to make me still …

They’d smooth my hair back on my head
Before the camera’s eye
They’d touch me when I went to bed
They’d sooth me when I’d cry

They’d wash a million dishes
They’d fold a ton of clothes
They’d help me with my wishes
They’d warm my freezing nose

They’d point at things for me to do
They’d help me with my plans
And that is why I miss so much
My Loving Mothers' … hands.


Details | Rhyme | |

Lost

Horrid, horrid thought;
Tiny Mother reaching forth,
Reaching always to enfold,
And in enfolding just to hold.

Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and deed.
What to do? What to do?
I am me, and I am you?

Looking for a glint of power.
Searching, searching, hour by hour;
Love…caring…heedless heart;
No Mother were you from the start.

Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and deed.
What to do? What to do?
I am me and I am you?

Broken waif, soul chafed;
Battered daughter, mother’s pride;
All that’s beautiful she must hide.
All that’s soft, all that’s warm, half formed.

Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and undone deed.
What can I do? What can YOU do?
I am me, and you are you?

Crushed like flower pedals in a fist,
Flung haphazardly in the mist.
Nasty, sour, bitter lost;
She was forced. We are forced.

Is all lost?


Date 10/12/2008


Details | Free verse | |

Who Was He Mother?

Who was he, Mother?
The man you loved?
The one you left
To relax his guilt
For not loving back?

Who was he, Mother?
The man who kept you heart?
The one you replaced
With the boy
Who you couldn’t love back?

Who was he, Mother?
The man who held your dreams?
The one you thought of
When the boy kissed
And you couldn’t kiss back?

There is this man, Mother
The man I love
The one I left
To relax his guilt 
For not loving back

There is this man, Mother
The man who keeps my heart
The one I replaced 
With a boy
Who I cannot love back

There is this man, Mother
The man that holds my dreams
The one I think of
When the boy kisses
And I cannot kiss back

I want him, Mother
The man I love
The one I want to run to
The one I am guilty for
Wanting to love me back


Details | Free verse | |

Christmas, Minus One

We said our goodbyes in June,
and the months since blur into mist.
At unexpected moments, awareness
of loss hits; tears spill unbidden.

Family gathering, Christmas Eve 
as usual . . . minus one.
We quietly exchanged gifts, 
found flowers from her funeral 
crafted into hand-made jewelry, 
kaleidoscopes, treasured mementoes.

I cooked grapes today, dark muscadines.
I extracted seeds and peelings, 
and measured life-sustaining juice 
through the metal funnel she used 
from the day of her marriage.
It came to me dented and bent, 
like her body had been at 93.

I still taste those fresh-from-the-oven 
chocolate rolls after school, 
garden tomatoes warmed by the sun, 
hot biscuits with apple jelly, 
squeezed from the peelings after 
she baked crisp slices in cinnamon-rich pie.

I'm glad I didn't know then,
about being allergic to Cinnamon.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Mother's Heart

A Mother's Heart

She brought this babe
Into this world with such care,
A life full of hope and dreams
Nothing will happen to him...nothing would dare.
She sends him to school
And days filled with little league,
Never a thought he would
One day leave dressed in fatigues.
That day came too soon
A day covered in clouds,
Kissing him goodbye 
Knowing he would make her proud.
Her son fought for his beliefs
For the red, white, and blue,
For independence and justice
Freedom for his mother and for you.
There is nothing more wrenching
Then that of a mothers cry,
For the loss of her child
And the call saying her son has died.
You see I can not understand
I can not say its okay,
All I can do now 
Is kneel down and pray.
"Dear God
I know you have taken him
And made him strong once more,
But I miss him so terribly
All the way to my core.
There is no way to describe
This pain which fills my soul,
Could you not take me too
Release me from this black hole."
Her son fought for his beliefs
For the red, white, and blue,
For independence and justice
Freedom for his mother and for you.
Can you even for a moment
Imagine the ripping apart,
The pain and agony of
A mother's heart.
2004
Edie Hendrikse


Details | Free verse | |

Immortalized

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.


Details | Blank verse | |

A Brief Childhood

In the back of my head, in the garden shed,
I see him as clearly as fresh white paint:
A little boy sat on the creosote floor, 
Dragged grazed knees hugged up to his chin, 
So familiar, so resonant and never faint. 
He shivers and weeps on the wooden ground, 
Alone, almost silent, with hardly a sound, 
In retreat from a world he cannot understand 
That Is ruled and defined by a callused hand.

It's his seventh birthday and a slowing flood 
Of mucus and blood flows from swollen lips, 
A tooth bares a nerve and a jagged chip, 
But the pain means no more than dandelion clocks 
Or cuckoo spit; the act alone the gestalt of it.

Some days he would walk for miles, 
To see beyond the next hill, around the bend, 
Kicking slowly along, his shadow twice his size, 
Dwarfing him, tracking him, a passive friend. 
Perhaps to find some haven, someone to 
Take him in, rescue his heart, and want him;
But strangers, though kindly, approached 
With the dusk and it always ended the same way:
"Where do you live?" they would say
And thoroughly drilled, he would quietly reply,
In emotion drained monotone,
His address and number of the telephone,
And they always took him back home.

Some days he would walk for miles,
To sit on the edge of the viaduct, 
Perched perilously with nothing to lose, 
Dangling feet in small scuffed shoes, 
Dropping pebbles and stones to the 
Rocks and undergrowth far, far below, 
Imagining if he may fall in their stead, 
What then would be left to know?

The fall down the stairs snapped his ankle
Like a spindly twig, fractured some ribs,
Dislocated his jaw.
The children's ward, antiseptic and bright,
Young nurses in uniform, starched and white
Were so kind to him, he almost cried, bringing concern
And orange squash and a paper straw.

Sometimes it’s like this when things go wrong, 
A scapegoat is needed to blame things on. 
People thought him shy, with head bowed low, 
Lost in comics and books, lost in himself, 
Denying the threat of another blow. 
He was not shy, just hiding and biding, 
Keeping his head down and trying not to show.

Life is a scoundrel, and time a cohort thief, 
Stealing a childhood with no reprieve, 
Leaving only the slow burning sense of relief, 
That an unpleasant childhood seemed mercifully brief.


Details | Narrative | |

Adult Child of an Alcoholic

Your face and rotting teeth and heavy jowls
         and sunken breasts with bulging waist and
         wooden legs
         betray
Your image of laughter, lovemaking, seeking
         bourbon tweaked philosophies
         of life begins
         at  forty.
The hands that tremble as you tilt
         the glass that begins another
         day of
Tirade thoughts, empty lies, money spent on
         lipstick coated leeches who prey on
         your diminishing
         breath.

Through these wintry days pass faces long past
         into what was then
              while with the coming spring ...
                       at last!  at last!
One can remember
         and want no more 
              what could never be:
                      a Mother.


Details | Narrative | |

The Bell My Mother Rang

The 18th of December was her last day;
she neither knew the date nor cared to.
Gathered at the hospital, keeping vigil,
we couldn't overcome her fright, or ours.
The pain, too great to be driven away,
was only "managed" with IV drips,
needles stuck in bruised appendages --
bony things -- arms and legs, hands and feet.
Above the medicines and washes, we sniffed
her scent, which, more than her yet familiar
face, to us identified our mother --
a smell we never would mistake
for any other. It went quickly
as her body cooled. The rouged and pickled
carcass they displayed was more a statue
than a person. We planned to bury her
with homely tokens, like an ancient mummy:
a family photo, a brooch she liked,
a pink hairbrush, and the brass bell she rang
to call her keeper during her last years.
But, when the time came, I could not bear
to have her leave so finally;
I took the bell from her metal box.
And, now, I ring it -- not to bring a keeper,
but to recall my mother on her birthday,
and on many dark days when I need her.


Details | Rhyme | |

LIFE WITHOUT MOM

Why do I have all these bad thoughts in my head,
the worst one of all is wishing I were dead.

Every morning I wake up the thoughts are still there,
the more I sit and think about them,the more I just don't care.

I have been trying hard,for things to be the way they should,
maybe if I didn't care so much for once in my life I could.

My MOM was always number one in my life,but now that she is gone,
it has been hard for me to be able to move on.




Details | Free verse | |

Moon bridge

The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.

I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.

In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
            the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
         wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.

How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face 
of eternities long time clock...

I ache with wanting, with need and passion
          it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
                              when I faced realities shock.

Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
             and make the broken whole?


I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me. 
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
                that so many leavings have left?

Cherish and love to honor and protect
             but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
     and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
      with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?

I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
      this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
   with the brush held in your hand

I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.


Details | Rhyme | |

Missing Mom

Please please PLEASE
Say you recognize ME - 
My face, my name;
Please say you know me today.
Say you know me, so we can converse,
A normal chat, words unrehearsed.
No more who are you’s, or who am I’s,
No more confusion when I stop by
I miss you mom and you’d miss me too,
If just once, you only knew…



Details | Sonnet | |

Gratitude

The pool grows green through the leaf cover.
Large pears hang upon ancient tree.
Mocking Bird sings chanting to his lover;
As the dew sparkles, like water in the sea.

Crepe Myrtle has turned red how time has passed.
Moma admired some trees said they were pretty.
Daddy dug up  a few runners, oh! memories from past.
In most things, think of daddy how witty__

Daddy brought (them) here to brighten moma's life
To give her something pretty to enjoy.
Today I enjoy them, this is reallife.
Now as I look at them they are my buoy

Clouds are coming in hiding the sun rays
But their light and life brightens my days_

For Nancy's contest;

Contest name: Gratitude


Details | Heroic Couplets | |

Stronger Than She Thinks.....

She is a loving mother, 
 her pain is like no other.
Kids taken all at once away.
 A price too steep to have to pay.

Holds her head up high, 
 when all she wants to do is die.
She thinks her pain is masked, 
 but as you see, its no easy task.

She's strong and still fights, 
 even when they say she has no rights.
She dreams of seeing her kids, 
 trying hard to keep the pain hid.

She goes to court and really fights, 
 only to come home alone and cry at night.
Still, she continues this uphill battle.
 Her confidence, they constantly rattle.

Goes to work and tries to smile, 
 as her heart is breaking all the while.
Wish I was a much better sister, 
 who called and let her know I missed her.

I had my own tumultuous issues, 
 it was she who really needed the tissues.
I just had a crappy, low life man.
 By her side her family should stand.

Instead they all give her grief.
 Do they not see her pain will never be brief?
No, they all say they are sorry, but they're full of lies.
 Didn't they know it was her LIFE in demise?

A better sister, I'll try to be.
 Her back she never turned to me.
I hope she knows she's loved and cared for.
 Her smile I'd like to see more.

I know that's no easy task.
 But that I will still ask.
As they push her to the brink,
 She's stronger than she ever thinks.




A combined effort for Kristy.....


Details | Couplet | |

Nightmare of a Beautiful Dream

I dreamt my mother mourned a broken doll,
porcelain, sad brown eyes, and five feet tall.

Entombed it in the finest place she could,
a cottage encircled by sunlit wood.

She danced a silent waltz with it, keening,
encouraging life in the wretched thing.

And it mended as she was worn away.
She did not hear when warned of her decay.

I was left a pristine porcelain doll,
and a broken mother in its enthrall.


Details | Elegy | |

O BELOVED MOTHER, O BELOVED SISTERS....

O beloved mother, o beloved sisters
departed from me, within years
of each other, to sadden my living;
I spend my days weeping...
reminiscing in my sorrow:
how we laughed together,
and faced another serene tomorrow,
knowing that sharing kindness
would bond our destinies
in ways so devoted and immense!   


O beloved mother, o beloved sisters...
I let the unconsumed joy of memories
take me to those yesterdays
to thank God for our existence,
when we enjoyed the gifts He offered;
yes, even the smallest of them 
were so lovely and precious!
And by watching how you faced death,
I admired how you became the bravest...
slowly letting go of what you possessed!


O beloved mother, o beloved sisters...
do you want me to continue crying,
or smile and console you with a future promise:
that soon we'll embrace one another
under the joyful eyes of our Creator?
Nothing foolish I will do to harm myself;
and wait I will 'till my end comes,
but until then my solemn prayers I'll recite
amid tombstones guarded by triumphant angels...
and bound for Heaven, I'll be smiling!


Details | Free verse | |

Mausoleum

‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust’

(No one is going to bust up MY insides,
sew my eyes and mouth shut,
drain my blood and pump me full of fluid
then seal me up in a concrete drawer)

Mama I was so young, so very young
So very young and so very curious
You were sitting in your favorite chair
I was sitting on the arm of your chair
”Mama what did they do to you in the hospital?”
You parted your gown and I saw a flaming scar
Something was missing…

The lady with the bun on her head
came into the classroom with an apple
I was called out into the hall
The lady with the bun on her head
presented me with the apple
I said “Thank you for the apple”
She said, “You’re welcome son”
(Teacher had a grave look on her face,
shaking her head slightly and muttering)
The lady with the bun on her head said
“I need you to come with me son”
and escorted me outside
where our car was waiting;
grandma and grandpa in the front,
daddy in the back with my two brothers.
Daddy said with a wavering voice,
“Boys, your mother has gone to be with the Lord”
We rode home in silence…

They even had a dresser with a mirror
with plush carpet, end tables and lamps
in the room we were escorted to 
They had you laid out in a bed
with the covers folded neatly down
but it was not really you…
Someone had made a copy of you
A life sized, porcelain doll image of you
Grandpa went over and reached down 
“Look, she has her favorite earrings on
Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
(Mama, I didn't think you looked beautiful at all)

I remember asking daddy, "Daddy, how come,
how come they gonna put mama in that drawer?”

Mama I was so young, so very young
I was at the ideal age of six mama
Old enough to comprehend
but too young to understand
Old enough to hurt like hell
but too young to know why

I guess I miss you even now mama
Mama, I guess what I miss the most
is just growing up without you
and that you never said goodbye…

Oh mama... 
don’t let them bust up my insides,
sew my eyes and mouth shut,
drain my blood and pump me full of fluid,
then seal me up in a concrete drawer
like they did you…

'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust'
(Cremation if you please)




Details | Acrostic | |

Waiting

Mountains crumble no more to be 
Oceans of woe since you left me 
Thunder rolls and my heart it breaks 
Humbly life ends, my soul it quakes 
Everlasting grief with no mend  
Reminds me daily, it will not bend

Inconceivable, this pain I bear

My love's not gone, together we'll share 
In lasting glory at Jesus' feet 
Serenity and grace, oh how sweet 
Salvation unites on heaven's shore

Yesterday's gone, tomorrow brings more 
Only a moment in time we wait 
Until we meet at heaven's gate


Details | Rhyme | |

Where Has Dad Gone, Mama Dear

Where has dad gone, momma dear?
Hush, my little lamb.
Your dad's gone to the thicket dear 
And mad old Abraham

That man went early this grim morn, and took his sharpened knife
And with him took his own first born, to offer up his life
With servants and with firewood, both, they journeyed to Moriah
And on the hillside there they built an altar and a fire

And Isaac, when he heard the plan, went willingly, it's odd
That he should let that daft old man, so worship his cruel god.
Your father, he was passing by, and heard but could not see
And foolishly could not deny his curiosity

So closer did your father scramble peering through the thorns
Unaware of how the brambles tangled with his horns
Just to see a crazy man who planned to kill his kin
Your father did not understand the danger he was in

For then again that mad old man started hearing voices
His god was speaking to the loon and giving him new choices
And so his plan to slay the boy came about to falter
And Abraham, he took your pa and dragged him to the altar

But that was never fair, mama, can you tell me why
When Isaac he was all prepared and well prepared to die
And all had been decided on, so what cruel trick mama
Was played upon that grand old ram, who was my own papa?

Life is not fair, my little lamb, nor is it like to change
And fate plays tricks on all of us, both sinister and strange
So you take care, my little lamb, with this advice from me 
Do not visit places where you know you should not be

The moral of this story dear, is take heed of the odds
And stay away from two-leggies worshipping their gods


Details | Couplet | |

Marble in Columns on Green

On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute

For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes

A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken

So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife

On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys

For the living, life goes on 
Tomorrow is another day


Details | Rhyme | |

The Waiting

The sky is a rose this evening.
The country is still and hush.
And a lady in love lies against the glass,
Her cheeks are filled with blush.
The road she watches never changes.
The grass there hardly grows.
For when one waits, as does she...
Time increasingly slows.
Poor girl... poor lady... poor mother.
I'm leaning against her door.
But while she waits for what is gone,
She is seeing her child no more.
The woman I'm watching is changing.
And with aging, has grayed at last.
For when one waits, as do I...
Time is incredibly...   fast.


Details | Rhyme | |

A faded leather notebook

A faded leather notebook filled with lines he'd never read
  Was never far away from where he slept
The book that she had written since her love was but a seed
  A book so full of her he always wept
She never let him read it and he teased her every day
But now he held her poems as he missed her every way

Each page is filled with all her hopes her love and yes her dreams
  Each verse is filled with him in every line
His life is now an ancient suit that's split in all the seams
  Each day another step on his decline
She was the only reason that he woke up every day
The woman that he loves and now he misses every way

He tried to read the sonnets that his son said were so sweet
  But never could he read beyond the first
For all the lines were tortures his endurance could not meet
  With every word he thought his heart had burst
She had written in the notebook at the end of every day
And her poems are the loving that he craves in every way

And now the leather notebook lies there clasped in lifeless hands
  He'll never read the verses of her heart
But his mourning son beside him has a soul that understands
  His father never had the strength to start
He will treasure all the poems that were written every day
They're the story of his parents whom he loved in every way


Details | Rhyme | |

Missing You, Mom

You stare at me with vapid eyes,
That once were bright and clear.
You don't recognize me now,
My voice you barely hear.

This empty shell that's lying here,
Isn't the mother that I knew,
And it's tearing me apart inside.
Why did this happen to you?

You're the one who gave me life,
You taught and raised me well.
I couldn't ask for a better Mom,
And seeing you like this is hell!

We used to talk and laugh together,
Going shopping was a treat.
You loved to smile and give out hugs,
To every friend we'd meet.

But now you barely speak a word,
You look but you don't see,
And when I try and hug you,
You shrug away from me.

It's torture watching you fade away,
Knowing there's nothing I can do.
Do you even understand what I'm saying,
When I tell you "I love you" ?

How horrid and cruel this disease is,
Destroying every cell in your brain,
Stealing all of your memories,
And causing so much sorrow and pain.

I keep hoping one morning I'll waken,
And find its all been a bad dream,
But reality steps in and betrays me,
Making me want to scream!

My precious Mother, I miss you.
I miss your tender kiss on my brow.
I miss your sweet words of wisdom.
How I wish you had some for me now.

7/25/12
Kim Merryman
For PD's Second Chance contest

(this is a work of fiction)