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Mother Sympathy Poems | Mother Poems About Sympathy

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

Face Of A Beggar Child


I saw your tear-stained face O’ child
It swam before my eyes at night
I clearly saw your life’s struggle,
Your painful hunger pangs and fright.

In my dreams I could clearly see
Your shredded clothes and unkempt hair.
At such a tender age O’ child,
On your face it was all written there.

No one to care for you my child
No one to call your very own.
No mother nor father to call you son, 
No siblings to call you come hither bro’.

I wondered how you came to be
In such a distressed way of life
Each day you have to beg for alms
And face the world’s rage and strife.

Were you the victim of natural disaster,
Like quake or floods epidemic or plague.
Or was it due to human vices
Like war or bloody bath of  death.

Were you  lost in busy hustle of life,
Was it all due to human greed.
Were you the fruit of sin and tossed,
Amidst dirty dustbin where dogs came to feed.

Your tear-stained face swims before my eyes,
And asks me how it came to be.
That  God created all humans alike,
But gave them different destiny.

Oh God, this your humble servant,
Asks you just one small question.
If there are so many tear-stained faces present,
Why Mother Teressa was only one.

Copyright © Kulsum Mehmood

Details | Ballad | |

She Cried

       She cried, She died inside over and over again, She was trapped in herself 
and she had no way of escaping. Taking drugs to dull the mud that's been in her 
for years. She's so far away from reality that it's like she is constantly 
She has to remind herself what's fictional and what's fact because the 
hallucinations wouldn’t  let her breath, they’d lie to her every chance she gets. 
Turning her mom into a monster not butterflies suddenly this high becomes a 
nightmare. One she had been fighting for so long, 16 and still traveling the same 
rode as so many younger than her. She didn't listen to all the voices that tried to 
tell her what she was missing because truly reality is the thing that makes life 
worth living. To her reality was the guy who had raped her constantly when she was 
young, Why choose reality when you could live in a dream world where everything had 
excuses. Not only could she not recognize the girl who cried constantly in the 
mirror but she'd done so many things to herself that even her eyes were a different 
It hurt so bad not to remember so she continued to fade until soon it seemed 
In an idiotical world where there were always smiles, It wasn't until she got help 
that she realized the real world was never always pleasant. It was filled with hate 
and lies and pain but that's something real and something she needed to face. 
Something she needed to open her eyes to, life would never be cake and she couldn't 
have her victory without tasting poison at least once. So when the tears dried and 
the wounds healed she signed up for a special thing a thing called GED and she got 

Copyright © Shahana Jackson

Details | Light Poetry | |

A Prayer for my Angel

The sky is not the same.
When I don't see her eyes and her smile it starts to rain.

Please God tell me your Angel is okay.
I don't know what to do if she goes astray. 

Please guide your Angel back to me.
I miss the sweet words of her melody.

Show me she has not departed from us,
and will promise not to fuss.

Give me a sign or a hint of her existence.
Let me know that she is in no need for assistance.

If you do I shall promise never again to be distant.

Copyright © Mariela Ruiz

Details | I do not know? | |

Today Is Terrible----

The cracked spine of
the book I dropped
at the call.
A chip in my
windshield left by a
pompous *?#@! in a
red sports car as I
drive to the
Rain expectorating
from an ashen sky as
the dirt is turned.
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
crack in grandma’s
spine from her fall
down the stairs.
The chip in her
amazingly smart mind
after eighteen years
as a teacher.
Tears running,
dripping from my
Mothers ashen face
as she cries “My
mama’s dead.”
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
cracked family
emotions left raw
and empty.
The chip in Grandpas
numb mind at the
gathering… “Where is
Irene she should be
Faces gone ashen
with dread, do we
leave him numb or
remind him that his
wife is dead?
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
empty silences,
missing the jokes
Grandma used to
Grandma’s laugh and
her endless smile
which always exposed
that tooth with the
chip in it.
Without her the
world has become
empty, bleak, and
Today is terrible.


Copyright © Summer Gratias

Details | Narrative | |

Not So Perfect

Here she comes, walking with pride.
Her face is so vibrant, she looks so alive.
Nothing can stop her, no one dares to try.
Her entire life is corroded with deals, tricks, and lies. 
Her beauty is everything, her smile kills all 
It brings down the strongest men, makes the highest building fall.
But when she comes home,
The story does change.
Her life’s not so perfect,
The positions rearrange.
Her father's an alcoholic, and not very nice.
She has a brother who gave up on school, and can’t read or write 
Of all of her family, her mother is the worse. 
Sometimes she wonders if she'll survive this curse.
He mother yells,and tells her that she's no good.
She would give it all up, if only she could.
At the end of the night she goes into her room,
She begins to weep, and eventually cries herself to sleep.
She wakes up the next day,
Puts on a happy face,
And goes to school as if nothing happened the previous night,
Or that absolutely nothing is wrong with her life.
So now that you’ve seen what’s behind the closed door,
I hoped you’ve thought about this girl a little more.
With the utmost respect,
I present to you, the life of someone "perfect".

Copyright © Kelsey Kopec

Details | Rhyme | |

Just Reach

just reach your hand out to the sky
pull your loved ones back to your side

lets get to say one more goodbye
for we never wanted them to go away and die

as now the days and nights lay 
in such sweet disguise

so let us once again our lord
stare into their illumating eyes

as we reach out for them 
in your broad horizon sky

and get to hold and kiss them
even if their not by our sides

for if this is however feels when we die
then I'd like to be that angel in that sky

so I can just reach out right back
and wipe their tears too from their eyes

Tribute To Our Loved Ones
On The Other Side
May You All RIP

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | I do not know? | |

my mother

I dedicate this poem to my beloved mother

I miss you mum, I miss you
I know I always will
I’ll never stop loving you
I knew that you were ill
I wanted to take away the pain
I would have done it too
But you just grinned and took it
That is so like you
I remember that look on your face
When you told me you were dying
It seems like it was yesterday
I could not stop crying
I know it’s been a long time
In fact it’s sixteen years
Time will never ease the pain
It cannot stop the tears
I say goodnight to you in bed
And think of you in bed
You’ll always be there in my heart
It doesn’t heal in time
My love for you will never die
And this I know is true
You just remember up above 
I’ll never stop loving you
A large piece of  my heart is gone
But I am not too sad
I remember the memories
And they always make me glad
You are my guardian angel
Who always looks after me
I look up at the stars above
I see you shine,  I see
I hope you like this poem
I made it just for you
Remember I’ll love you always
And I’ll always miss you too

Copyright © Moira MCDERMENT

Details | I do not know? | |

I love you mom

Long day at work and it already hurts
To know when I go home it will get nothing but worse

Im tired of going home to an empty fridge 
If she knew she was going to be on drugs why have any kids?

Hurting me to see her who gave me birth
Drugged up on who knows what I sit and sob in a shirt

Constant accusations of things I never do 
I'm going to stop right here wont even mention abuse 

When I step into that house its like a cloud of sadness
Been going on for years no way to stop this madness 

So many tears in my eyes its tearing me apart 
Nothing can add up to the embarassment and shame in my heart 

Expecially when all my friends have the "perfect mom"
Comming home to depression some nights I lay and sob 

What hurts the most Is I dont want to leave
I want to "stay and help mommy" its sad indeed

I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night
Praying to god as I cry to make everything right

"Please lord help my mom work things through"
"Her addiction is getting worse I dont know what to do"

"For her no one is there I dont even think they're aware"
"Infact I am the only one who still even cares"

"Lord I sit and stare as her conditions get worse"
"I need some guidance tell me where to start first"

I lay back in my bed and cry myself to sleep 
Thinking will she ever stop before it gets too deep?

Sunrises in the morning back up for work!
"Positive attitude" policy so I put on a smirk

Headed out the door for another long hard day 
Forcing on a smile thinking "its going to be okay"..

Copyright © Candice Collins

Details | Rhyme | |

Thank you

Thank you – Zamreen Zarook

Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.

Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.

People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.

Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook

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...


(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)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Rhyme | |

Surrogate Mother

Baby Clara will never touch the big hand of Laura, her mother As she was born four months after her mother’s death. Before she died, her friend Tara accepted to act as surrogate mother. Laura and her hubby Tom dreaming to hear the baby’s breath. To a surrogate mother Tara who was her mother’s best friend It was like to keep one hand for self and second for this family, And that big hand of Tara touched and held Clara’s small hand. *Keeping a part of Laura alive on this earth for me selfishly* A reporter, for her future wrote an open letter after the baby’s birth, “You’re barely a month old now, too young to read this letter But one day someone will show you this letter to know forth How confluence of helping hands brought her in the world, later” Living with Tara’s family for a few days, Tom ready to act as dad, Clara now playing with his hands and fingers in winter’s clad.
+++ December 5, 2014 Form: Rhyme Dr.Ram Mehta

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta

Details | Narrative | |

Una Visita con Mama -- A Visit With Mama

We walk the rocky shore
and you lean heavily on me,
Mother, bruising my balky arm --
muttering "Ay, Hijo!";
a few steps and, breathless,
we are both exhausted.
Your once-brown eyes, gone gray,
are like concentric rings
rippling from a random stone
thrown into a polluted pond
in winter: eyes as flat
as the latex paint that
coats a cheerless rented room.
Cataracts circle your lenses;
they have a ruptured look --
purple, jellied -- like the eyes
of a dead fish, which I poke,
perversely fascinated.
It is puffed and rotten.
Your eyes are puffed, too, red-rimmed,
moist with tears that brim over
though you try to blink them back.
That you love me and I you,
and that we wish to extend
our time together, is clear --
as clear as the black water
in the pond, as clear as your
cataract-clouded eyes,
as clear as my conscience
when I drop you at the Home,
cleverly inventing an important
meeting, to which I will hastily fly.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore

Details | Ode | |

My Princess Growing

Started off so small
Growing so tall
Put Smiles on my face
In my head its Amazing
Hoping you won't be a static
Changing in every great way 
Its because my princess growing into
A queen

My queen you give me hope
and pride
Dignity and self efficiency you
will be someone Great I owe
it to GOD he gave me a princess 
growing into A queen
You are my light shining when 
I'm in the dark 
You make me not 
want a father not need one
I got you my princess
Growing into A queen

I'm going to raise you right
Tell you everyday how beautiful
you are 
You don't need to hear it from a 
You are my princess growing
Into a queen thanking you for
Giving me hope and pride to

What would I do if
I lost you, God forbid
that come true
Your my life when
there is no hope
You give me strength when 
There is no time
Princess don't worry you won't 
Lose me to drugs,prostitution
Addiction and Eviction 
I'm here to stay 
Because my princess
Growing into a Queen
I will make Great decisions 

Mianna you are my Princess 
Growing Into A Queen

Copyright © sherelle smith

Details | Rhyme | |

I Hate Aunt Floe

NOTE: This poem is a humoruos stab at PMS from a mans point of view

I can see your blood boiling
through  the blades I once called eyes,
they were once beautiful  like jewels
now they hurt my deep insides.
cutting at my guts
and like a noose on my  lungs;
your words seek like bullets 
your mouth like sniper guns.
I’m hit with each inaccuracy…
Being killed by words untrue;
and you even got the nerve
to tell me what you think I do.
But let me get mad
and try to plead my case;
then suddenly the world
is a f--ked up place.
You got tears running down…
What the Hell did I do?
We were just sitting and laughing
I could swear that we were cool.
Oh God…
Oh no…;
I should have seen it… 
It’s Aunt Floe…,
This battle can’t be won or reasoned
I think its best I go.
Cause I hate Aunt Floe 
and she hate me too;
she sit and talk sh-t
about the gum I chew. 
The color of my shirt…,
She say my look is a stair;
She say my best has no worth
And she doesn’t stop there.
I didn’t change
I’ve been the same 
these 28 days,
 but now I’m f_ckin A__hole 
Aunt Floe gave me that name.  
She said get out my face 
This aint your home no more,
But I’m more puzzled by 
What was said before.
I love you 
With her glossy eyes 
I knew it was true, 
But horribly sly
You see these words
make me the fool.
The one that’s cruel
That a__hole dude,
That sparked the fuel
To this f__kin feud.
But I swear to God
I didn’t start this sh_t,
Why would I give up my love 
To live my life like in a pit.
 This is horrible sh_t 
Wasted days spent,
On nothing but the worst
I could be bathed in your sent. 
You could be laughing 
While I’m smiling
But Aunt Floe Won’t let this be,
And the only way to make this right
Is hold my tongue  a week.
And that ain’t gone happen 
I’m a person too,
Not soft
But I got feelins
and don’t know what  to do.
Now its been six days
Unbelievable  rage,
She locked herself 
In the room
I call it her cage.
I smell a sent in the air
It wasn’t there before,
Now lookin down the hall
I see an open door.
Is this a trap 
I’ll guess I’ll see,
If I fall for another
 You know that’s dumb ass me.
Curled in the bed 
I think I know that girl,
But where’s the hells Aunt Floe
The one that f__ked my world.
She packed up and gone
Didn’t even say good bye,
Just came wit gang of bullsh_t
And vanished in the sky.
Is that you my dear
Can you please come here,
Listen close and crystal clear…
I hate Aunt Floe
 Next time she here
Make sure I’m stocked
with weed and beer.
I love you punk.  ?

Copyright © Anthony Thomas

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Witnesses To Sinners

I can't hear the words as they come from my mouth
I can't hear the screams as they work their way out
As I write all is seen is a blur and blank moment and
Once recovered sensed the words were written,not 
Even a look to see what was written only to know it
Was there.Sleepless night,taunt  filled faces horde my
Dreams.Have this made me fall so low no longer am I
Am I able to stand on my own to feet.How many times 
Will you make me cry before claiming only to being a 
Witness in a crime,your crime. Putting on that face
Working the crowds with amazing easily,how I hate you
Yes all the thing I think about revolve around you.
How many times have I witness myself wound my self
With your blade? As though under a spell doing as order
Without a cry to the world what made me so diligent ?
But no longer can you be a witness,No longer can I be 
A witness to these crimes that been committed.Be us both
Sinners be us both lovers be that we both be cursed 
We shall witness our sins become whole and the love in
Which we share spread further and further like the flames 
Of hades. May there be peace for sinners in the next world.
We are both witnesses and at the same time 
We are both sinners one day to become consumed by our
Own darkness how far will we fall until that moment comes?
May we be good may we be bad may we fall may we live may 
May we die or carry on we are the Witnesses We are the Sinners
To this world and the next.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes

Details | Ballade | |

Sad girl rising

Sad girl rising

Let me tell you about this girl I know
My cousin, this girl be
Her life has been so very sad
But how wonderful is she
She was a wild child, till she married
And had her first born child
When she found out that his brain was damaged
It really drove her wild.

She took the Doctor through the courts
Then fought for ten long years
To get the money she deserved
And she cried so many tears
She gained a million pound at last
To help her with the lad
And yet the damage it was done
And it really drove her mad.

Her and her hubby cared for he
And gave their lives to him
It was a twenty four, seven job
But at times it got real grim
She would do just anything
To make his life more sweet
But when she got that Parkinson’s
She was close on to defeat

But no, she struggled with the odds
And though it’s ten years on
Never does this girl give up
When all her hope seems gone
She smiles, and carries on with courage
Like I’ve never seen before
She’s something kind of wonderful
She’s a hero, that’s for sure.

30 July 2o13 @ 1043hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Haiku | |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily

Details | Narrative | |


A decade in to
a new millennium,
a woman, nearing
a century on Earth,
braces herself in
a doorway of
the house,
she has lived in since birth.

Her oldest son unfastens his belt, and takes a seat at the end of her table,
where her middle son just fixed the legs of the chair; to make sure it was stable.
Her youngest son brushes the webs off the wall, and scrubs the stains from the floor.
Her only daughter packs up her pictures, and helps her through the door.

A decade in to 
a new millennium,
a life, almost
a century long,
comes flooding back
to the thoughts of a woman
who feels removed 
from where she belongs.

Her daughter tries to lift her spirits, (from the room in which, she slept as a child)
but no one could easily witness their memories, all being sorted, and filed.
Her house is dissected, and put in a truck that waits - like a thief - in the drive.
-The cumbersome stance; the delicate dance; together, they help one another survive.

A decade in to 
a new millennium,
a woman approaches
a century - passed.
A man in the attic
waves from the window -
Assuring her: 
This home will not be her last.

Copyright © John Taylor

Details | Free verse | |

A Sinner Like God

“I have forgiven mother”
She tarries with hope
that the good woman will pray her clemency for her own sins, 
but that hour is expired; 
Gee grew a strong wit
"Mother is no longer my burden"
Jesus came from hard conscience to corroborate her lies
The WORD written in black and white:
“Us twain is now one; for this reason I depart from her”
Three moons less than time in the safety of the womb is slight

In the past mother was necessity, 
but she grew weary of the pace;
her birth city received her
The old Jewish woman was left
with stage three pressure ulcers
while the twain bender in Atlantic City
Their backsides were not masked by mother’s conformity
My mother's now defiant fingers work dutifully in another excrement, 
goat stool in her callaloo garden

Before the recession, money was tossed in all directions;
I took hold of a few green ones.
She lived to outdo her alliance, 
but high seat killed Miss. Thomas’ cat
Mother watched her outshone the Jones
The recession was never her downfall;
immorality got the better of her. 
Jesus was overlooked
“put the WORD to work,
compensate the guardian of your youth”

She had to let a nation know how well off she was
Her enemies know her silver spoon was achieved
Her splurges buried ethics, and smiles were wide as graves
She let me know in scripts:
“A new being I am now; My shine is unlike years ago”
Vanity is not here in show, but her heart remains the same
Like the Jewish elder, mother is spurned 
with bruising on her heart.

Copyright © Earle Brown

Details | Lyric | |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © JAY JOHNSON

Details | Elegy | |

On The Road To Heaven { Mom's Elegy }

<                    We are gathered here today to celebrate Bernadine Goerlich's life
                      Though taken from us to soon she has now risen to be with the Lord
                      Do not fret for greif and sorrow shall pass too
                      Let us bow our heads and pray 
                      In thy name of the Father Son And Holy Spirit  {Amen }

                      At the tender age of 70 she lived her life to the fullest
                      Raising a family of 10 she always had an xtra room
                      For she loved her God family friends and her beloved pets
                      And even heard of her always baking cakes cookies pies and italian foods
                      She really must of had her hands full with 5 boys and 5 girls

                      For Lord please cradle her in your everlasting arms
                      Wash away her sins and lift her spirit to you
                      For she has earned her wings of golden tone
                      And  now can rejoiced with her own Father and Mother
                      In God's jubliee Kingdom  Let us pray {Amen]

Entry For
Dr. Ram's
Elegy Contest
G.L. All

In Loving Memory Of Mom
{1934 - 2005 }

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Elegy | |

Tears of the Broken

Introduction: At some point of our lives, someone close to us departs off to the next
phase. We think of the good times and try not to think the bad; but sometimes it haunts us
back to how we responded in a naive way for our juvenile wishes. And sometimes we see them
in our dreams at the utmost optimism and glory. But the fact that we get to realize what
we did back then may have cherished and broken their souls in some ways, we always wonder
if we could alter the deeds that wounded their affection in our times of immaturity…And
pray that we get a second chance to do so for our next life. *the first two lines have some inspiration from another piece*

Even if our hearts were as strong as a storm, we’d still feel a little bit sad Knowing that we’ve lost our grandfather, our friend, our dad. For so many years, we’ve felt their presence In so many ways, we’ve felt complete, But truly, even if we deny – We sometimes skip a heartbeat. Our lives are nothing but their memories and their art, Orbiting us each day, reminding us of who we are Where we stand and to whom we belong, We pray and cry up oceans for them night after night Praying to be together just one more time, in the worlds of light. But yes you are so fortunate, that you got to leave, You’ve made it to the greater step, I pray for us to meet. May your soul be blessed and may it shine brighter than the sun, Again and again ‘I love you’ it’s not a lie, I may not have said it that much But I hope you knew inside, even if I may have been unkind as such Nothing is left for us to do but feel the tears stream down our eyes For we, once in a while have broken their hearts with one or two lies, Their face glows and vividly fades away from our dreams those nights That’s when we fall, fall down to our knees, pray for we could have changed The ways we reacted back in those days. Thoughts of those moments, thoughts of their sorrow smile Now makes us realize how we never cared, For that to overcome, we treasure the good times we’ve shared, The times we’ve heard them say “You’ve made me proud” The times we’ve felt them lay their hands, oh so be crowned. Their tender touch, their forgiveness Their blessings for us and their happiness, We pray to feel it all again Bring it all again, To the eternal life, after this time.

Copyright © Aqeb Be-Nazir Ibn Minar

Details | Rhyme | |

Oku Sunkun Oku

In the spirit of the loss of a comrade (friend outside PS),
who kicked the bucket on 20th of this month,
coupled with the news about the death of Linda's (Pd) mother,
revealed by SKAT via her blog of 29th of the same month,
I sincerely surrender my pen to mourn the dead.


With no knowledge of that day
That God would call your name
Your sojourn with us we cherished
On your departure we did the same

Our heart tore when we lost you
You didn’t go home all alone
For part of us went with you
From the moment God called you home

You left us blissful memories
Your kindness and love remains our guide
There you’re, we can’t see you
But you’re always on our mind

This world you came alone
And this and us you left behind
For the next world we know
Would leave none of us behind

Your chain of friendship was broken
From the day God called you home
The gist, the grins, the cheers… are no more 
Left with you are your deeds in that new home

Your rope of kinship was severed
And things seized to seem the same
But when God takes us one by one
Our rope would tie and we’d all have a name 

I mourned with we the living and the dead
I believe we live to die
On the ground that death is inevitable.

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole

Details | Crystalline | |

Words that a Parent Might Never Say

My child here is my life in rare form
Mistakes you make so have I...once

Copyright © shane solomon

Details | Haiku | |


Forgotten but here
Remembered yet never there
Why do you exist?

Copyright © Daniel Spencer

Details | Free verse | |

Sea of Souls

I see the sea of souls
overturned n washed away
I see their loss of love churning them 
toward the undertow
Their anguish bubbling to the surface
forming foam
poetry soup

Watching &
wading in this
slick of sadness,
i intuit my sinking in the sand.
Not from sheer weight 
but by all the hands
grabbing my ankles
trying to pull me in

The mother in me
wants to scoop them up
one by one
& sing them
sweet lullaby’s

The mother in me
Wants to cast a spell,
To calm the oceans,
To form shells
around their tender youth
Nd protect them 
from further lures

You see....
i have been in that frigid water many a time
It is where you & i have to go to die
& yet I know as sure as the rising n setting sun
we will all gladly walk that plank again
(Even if it means another mini death)

From under the water i must look like a God
An unattainable form bathed in light
an unattainable happiness out of reach
....what you cannot have
But, it is just i,
a simple caring soul 
gathering your words and hopefully you

Copyright © Meghan G

Details | Free verse | |

Skin Deep

Achilles' heel 
You’re another day older
The world’s much colder

It’s not your fault
They were taken 
Don’t blame yourself 
for God’s mistake

Her beauty reflects your own
Her life reflects your future
Chasing rabbits will get you there faster
Loss of faith will bring you there faster

The ball drops
It’s clever to see
What happens to us
And here we are

Take the evil out of this
You’re stronger
She’s stronger and always,

Copyright © John Paluszek

Details | I do not know? | |

You call yourself a father

Growing up was hard for me,
I think i grew up to soon,
I had to take charge in the big brother role,
But also i had to take hold to the father role somehow.

My mom was the only one who was there for her children,
We knew that she loved us,
She was in love with my father but he wasn't faithful,
So she found someone else who showed her true love.

My siblings never truly understood it,
I tried my best to encourage them to behave,
Which they listened but to a certain point,
Finally my mom married her true love and the caos began.

My father tried to step back in the picture,
My siblings began to side with my father not knowing the seriousness,
I decided to talk to them one-on-one but neither of them listened,
They wanted for my mom and father to be together.

One day my mother sat them down,
Telling them the hurt and pain she experienced with my father,
She explain to them the whole nine yards,
They understood then and began looking at my father differently.

Getting to the stage of middle school,
We began to see less of our father,
It was his choice...not ours,
He wouldn't call for our birthdays or holidays,

So we leaned mostly on our step-father,
They wouldn't accept him as father,
He would do all he could for us,
But instead the only one(s) who really let him be a father figure was me and the 
youngest brother.

My step-father loves my mom and has been there for her going on Fifteen years.
He is a firm talk like he's a policeman or something,
But he is a nice person.
My mom loves him and so do we.

So this is a message for all of the children out there who has a no good father....if 
your mom has a man or husband, please treat him right because he is there to 
protect your mom and you all. Thanks for listening!!

Copyright © Vernard Mays

Details | Free verse | |


your shell's a delicate, dry
and brittle casing,
soon shed.
age accumulates and,
exiled and bewildered --
all free choice fled --
death's an unknown terror.
You miss your home,
cannot understand how,
to those who once bent to your will,
you've faded to a shadow,
powerless, almost forgot,
a consequence of the natural order.
Enjoy the moments in the sun,
your food, your precious life's breath
that I listen for at night.
I cling, and mourn your life --
so changed.
Your stroke
has paralyzed us both...
my pity, cloaked in love,
is but another grievous wound
you bear.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore

Details | I do not know? | |

Gold Star

Sometimes I sit and ponder
what it may be like
to have parents, not always 
looking for a petty fight
the love you feel, always
being there for you
day o' night

I wake up fighting a
constant battle,
I feel like I am in a circus
having to jump through hoops
my parents hold
to earn their admiration and 

Earning their gold star
for the day
I was a rebel since day one
not trying to conform
dancing to the beat of a 
different drummer

Wishing to be accepted 
for who I want to be
and how I seek to spend my hours
nothing I ever do, seems to be good

They talk about "emotional deposits"
i.e. spending time with them
but they spend too much time
picking and proving
reacting wrong, saying ignorant assumptions
they push me away, each day
'further and further I go
as soon as I make enough money
I'm gone

They act as if my artistic mind 
couldn't make money
like my dreams are distant relatives
of which I will never meet
but I strive to prove them wrong

Its bad enough being
one person versus the world
but when the army you fight
is led by your family, your blood
it's twice as hard to get up
in the morning, when the suns
rays dance on my closed

I try my best to be the kind
of person I want to be
despite their efforts to kill off
my individualistic soul
I have given up trying
to belong to which I 
was born unto
I'm simply playing the game

Hoping to win, one day
the chance to be myself
as I feel emulates me,
and regardless
have a proud
Mommy and Daddy
I do pray, I shall be
 free to be 
Heather Rose Marie

Copyright © Heather Hill