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Narrative Farewell Poems | Narrative Poems About Farewell

These Narrative Farewell poems are examples of Narrative poems about Farewell. These are the best examples of Narrative Farewell poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss

April 14, 2013

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast

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Sa kisame ng bahay, itong si Butiking Pasas
Ay minsang nakipaglaro sa kanyang mga KAIBIGAN
Kanyang inaliw, mga pakpak na kumikinang, pumapagaspas
Binola ang bawat lipad na kay panglaw
Habang sa isip, may nabubuo’t nakaambang kalokohan
Tila naiinggit sa kanilang kakayahan

Nang hindi na sila nakatingin, tumalikod lang saglit
Nagsimula ng ibuka kanyang mapinsalang bunganga’t bibig
Nilantad matatalas na dila, na may malaasidong laway
Na tutunaw unti-unit sa kanilang katauhan

At sa isang kisap mata, dila’y pumulupot, sumalaksak, 
Nilunok, nilamon sila ng buong-buo, walang kamalay-malay 
Sila’y kinitil, nalinlang ng mga matatalim na SALITA,
Kawawang mga KAIBIGAN…
Kanilang magagandang LAMANG LOOB…
Tuluyan ng nawasak, nalusaw

Copyright © jhucel del rosario

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Summer's Farewell

On a fading stage of August
Lady summer reluctantly sheds
Her emerald robes of a dying season
As the blazing Autumn stands
In the wings 
Adorned in her gown
Of russet and gold
Awaiting her debut - 
Her opening night
Of an illustrious September

Copyright © valerie bellefleur

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The day’s hot-the wind like a convection oven
Blows hot air in our faces.
My cap and gown insulates me
Baking me like a potato wrapped in aluminum foil
I desperately fan myself and look around
My eyes search for my peers and see;
The bros that survived school with me;
The others who shouldn't have;
The girls with memories already wet in their eyes;
The people I never met and will never know;
All desperately fanning themselves
In silence and in waiting.
We all are waiting for the same thing-
What's next to come.
For some it will be their names
For another a trip to boot camp
For many including myself- college
A couple can't wait to forget the tortures of high school
And a few will already be planning our high school reunion
because it was the best years of their life.
As I bow my head, not out of sadness,
but out of sheer defeat by the sun,
I scuff up my dress shoes in the clumpy grass of the field- 
that just finished another infamous drawn out lacrosse season,
I'll be thinking about the 4 plus years, 8 seasons,
worth of drilling and conditioning I did in that very field and on the surrounding track,
With a flash of ivory across my sweating face
I'll be thinking about
All the nooks and crannies
that I sanctioned for the intimate meetings of my girlfriends
The times caught and not,
All the heartbreaks and rejections,
The friends made, the best friends kept, and the many lost.
The drama, stupidity, and immaturity,
Everything that was and used to be.
And, all this time spent waiting-preparing
for this one moment
You can't help but remember it all
And with one, final sweet goodby-

Copyright © Nicholas Bello

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We Are There With You

You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit

We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you

You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love

If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home

5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel

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You're my Star

hey there,
You have lighted up my world..
Now you're the one I am dreaming of
Dont you know,
I can sit here forever,
Just looking into your eyes?
The things I see there
Always take me by surprise
but I don't see you coming...
I see you standing there;
so close but still barely out of reach;
I want to be closer to you,
so I'm on my way...
I will be missing you
I will be missing the places we used to know..
wish i could carry you with me
I hope I make you a little happy too
I am not saying goodbye
I know I'll see you again
I would be crying in that strange city
and you wouldnt be there..
but I will carry on..

6.22.11 (my goodbye poem before I boarded the plane)

Copyright © Jeinara Odonio

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The Last Summer

The Last Summer 

This is the last summer 
with all of us together; 
next summer we’ll all be 
somewhere else and hopefully 
we’ll see each other again someday. 
We walked down the forest trail 
we all wished each other farewell. 
Looking around I could see 
that we were all happy to be 
with each other one last time.

Now, we’re all in college 
gaining more knowledge 
so, so, so far away from each other. 
Oh how I wish it was still summer! 

In my mind,  I can still see 
all of us running happily 
we were so young back then. 
Sometimes I dream that when 
 graduation comes and we go on to the real world, 
we’ll all meet together again. 

Counting the summers away
I wonder if we will someday
go back to that forest trail 
where we all wished each other farewell. 
And everyday I look back to our last summer; 
laughing and crying at our fun times 

Graduation has arrived at last! 
many summers have passed 
since we first left on that summer day
and now it is the month of May. 

I haven’t seen any of the others
it has already been eighty-seven summers!
I decide to go back to that forest trail 
When I arrive, tears stream down my face.
For there are my friends all standing 
there and they too are crying.  

So again we walk down the forest trail,
even though we’re old and frail 
and I realize this is our final tale. 

Copyright © Dana Lasts

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Mookiemar, whose given name was Mike,
got high on meth and decided his life
was one of continual slavery and he was determined
to set himself and his people free from the oppression
of The Man, whoever in hell The Man might be.
Then and there he left his life of Christianity and sanity.
He instantly became a jihadist follower of the god of insanity.
Mookiemar sounded like a good raghead name to little Mike,
so the newly named Mookiemar decided that seventy two
big tittied women waiting for him in camel jockey heaven
was an excellent fate for a manly raghead jihadi such as himself.
He had a final meal of pork and beans and washed it all down
with copious amounts of homemade rot gut whiskey and wine.
Mookiemar then stuck two lit sticks of dynamite up his hairy ass
and started hunting for this honky peckerwood they call The Man.
Unfortunately for Mookiemar his last meal went through him in a flash
and he started passing great amounts of smelly stinking gas.
The explosion blew little Mike into over a hundred small bloody pieces.
To Mookiemar’s great surprise, his sorry worthless camel jockey soul
did not enter heaven’s gates, instead it went straight to jihadi hell.
Satan himself welcomed raghead Mookiemar to his eternal destination
and he informed Mookiemar that he would not be screwing camels
in hades, but that the camels would forever be screwing him instead.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson

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6 am

6 a.m.
I saw your pain compressed in
Tourniquets and plungers.
Memories condensed to tears.
Cooling your hand holding bottles.
Dripping in puddles that flowed,
With white wind down glass tubes.
When you pressed for it,
I asked you;
Why you wanted too
So badly –
Maybe you did not hear me.
Then I asked -
For the attention?
But you were done talking.
“The affection is still free”.
I should try not to waste sentences.
At the hour of mid morning,
I remembered when I first saw you.
Walking up the sidewalk,
And I thought to myself:
Yes, I would - So I did.
Smiling ghosts made perfect faces,
Dancing off cigarettes on my front porch..
Yours ran to catch you.
As I watched with mine,
You walking home.
I pass a year and you in a store,
I heard you don’t cry the same,
Not like you used to.
You looked happy - I guess,
Or maybe it was, I hope you are.

Copyright © rob carmack

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In memory of Bob

In memory of Bob
A true story.

It was in spring of two thousand when I first saw Bob. I’d just started working at Perth Dental hospital, and in fact it was my first day there. I walked up to the front door of this building, but it wasn’t yet opened. So I turned around and went to sit in the bus shelter which was just outside the building. As I went to sit down I noted a dark skinned gentleman sitting there with a happy, benign look on his face. He was about five feet eight give or take a little, and he was rather a thickset man who looked like he’d done his fair share of hard work in his sixty years or more.

     There was something about this Gentleman that I could not quite put my finger on. He had a certain charisma about him; not the phony kind of charisma that one seen in the car salesman or the philanderer who messes with women’s heads, no, Bob had a kind of friendly smile for everyone that he met, and he seemed to draw people into him with his love, and gigantic heart. I knew as soon as I met him that Bob was most definitely for me.

      As Bob looked at me and smiled, the whole world seemed to open up. He said “Ow ya  going mate” in a loud ebullient manner, then we started to chat. Bob was like myself, a thinker, and straight away we started philosophizing about this, that, and the other, and it was like we had known each other forever. Then all of a sudden I found Bob talking about death, and the difference in the way the Maori people faced death, compared to the rather the silly way us white folk look at the subject with great fear in our hearts. Now this had always interested me, and  somehow it just seemed natural to talk to this Maori gentlemen on this subject, and we spoke about it till the doors opened and it was time to work.

      I don’t think anything happens just by chance, and I definitely have this feeling that Bob and I were meant to meet, and I really think this was a major destiny thing. I have found during the course of my life,  that as I am aging, I can feel something pushing me into a certain direction, and I always felt that Bob was part of all this; and I had much to learn from him. Although I have never believed in organized religion, and never followed one I have always felt deeply spiritual, and I have met many people who I learned from, and Bob was most definitely one of them with all his great wisdom and patience. As I came to know Bob, we had many dialogues together, on many subjects. Bob used to love music and could always have time to plonk away on his guitar. He used to come round to my place and we would play songs together, though both he and I were no Eric Clapton’s, I would bang around on my guitar and play the harp, while we would both take out turns at singing. We’d have a smoke or a beer or two, and we’d play songs all day long,  ahhh, I remember those days well, the memories are so strong.

     Bob was one hell of a man, I could tell that he had been a wild one in his youth,
But when I knew him in his sixties he was an icon of wisdom and virtue; he had a kind word for everyone, and gave all his time to anybody who needed him, always.
He used to hear me waffling on like an idiot, trying to make him like me [as I always did] but never once did he tell me how foolish I was, he would just smile knowingly at me. He used to stand there at the window for hours, just drinking in the trees, or the clouds in the sky, and yet he was so aware, I used to try to sneak up on him; it couldn’t be done. His awareness was incredible.

     Then one day Bob fell ill with terminal cancer, and he knew that he had very little time left on this Earth. He lay there sick for days in intolerable pain,  but you never heard one complaint from him, even when he only had days to live, he was still worrying about the welfare of others. When the day finally come for Bob to leave his shell; he was lying there in deep sleep, when all of a sudden he woke up, with a smile on his face. His children asked him ‘Dad, do you want some pain killers” Bob laughed, compassion written all over his face, and he said to them ‘Not one of you has a clue, have you’ and he died with a big smile on his face.

   His daughter got in touch with me, and told me about his death, and also told me that his last wish was to have me watch his soul leave his body. I felt very honored about this and went and sat with his body [as Maoris do]. I got the most peaceful feeling come to me [which I presume was his spirit leaving his body] as I watched his silent body, a Mari war stick and a beautiful rose lay across his chest. I still see it, and I feel blessed by it. He was my Maori warrior, and I adored the man.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

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Just Love

Theres a very simple thing in life, and its called love. Love conquers all. Love has conquered me, finally. Conquered me by knowing, feeling, living unconditional love. 

Born into love, live it, breathe it, fall in love, fall out of love, love has conquered you.

I thought my love for you conquered the love you didn’t have for yourself or the love you thought did not exist. And briefly it was there. My love has been twisted, abused, assaulted and antagonised. I thought this was to my detriment, but it is to my growth. 

My love, my truth, my honesty has been distorted beyond recognition where by I no longer recognise you. 

This is where I jump ship and leave you with the memory, memories that are. 

Ups and down, in and outs, I have set sail for whatever comes my way.

Love is not measurable, love is not sex, love is not man or woman or love for one or other. Love is love. Love is knowing. 

This is not love, any more. So saddens me to say.


Copyright © Paul Dollard

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Copyright © Margaret Modlik

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Battling Addiction

I loved you once years ago 
Our passion was divine
Could see our life together forever
But instead I could not compete
For your lover was a bottle.

I tried all I could do 
Being your wife and supporting you
But no matter how hard I tried 
No matter what I couldn't compete
With the liquid you chose instead

It's funny how alcoholics live two lives
One is surface for those to see
The other the demon inside 
Fighting to overtake the good
All the while hiding sipping alone

Codependence is also an evil
Depending on others for how to feel
Walking on eggshells became a cover
So as not to stir the tipping canoe
In the end it did not matter

For then you chose your battles to leave
Easier then to give in, just said "go"
No more arguing was glad to have you go
For life with addiction is weary
And heavy on the soul

I could not watch you kill yourself
The love we had was dead
Did not want our child to see 
Up close and personal 
His father failing at life.

To watch a loved one kill themselves
Slowly with a bottle
Is like watching a tree slowly die 
First the leaves change color 
Then they fall to the ground

With alcohol it's just the same
First the color starts to leave
The brightened eyes that once were there
Turn bloodshot and empty
Desire is replaced by need

Nothing is sacred to someone whose addicted
Possessions,home, family all are second
Jobs come and go over many years
People come in an out their lives 
And families disappear. 

Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver

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Farewell But Not Goodbye

Poetry Soup has lost some of it's lustre lately There are probably a multitude of reasons But it matters not what the reasons are For me personally it is no longer the fun site It once was when I first joined A number of my favourite people Have disappeared for one reason or another Personally, I've been posting less frequently Because of health issues I've been dealing with Nothing serious, just adjusting to some age related changes Bottom line though is I'm thinking That perhaps the time has arrived For me to shut down for a while I'm a lifetime member so at some time down the line My name may pop up again So it's farewell for now but not goodbye © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison

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A Letter To My Princess

       My love, please forgive me for what I am about to do. I write this letter to you in candle light outside your chamber; it's late and I dare not disturb your royal slumber so I leave not you my last words and testament of my love. I can no longer keep my love for you a secret; there is is no veil big enough to conceal the way my heart constantly contracts for you. It is preposterous that your father, the King, thinks no servant is good enough for his daughters hand in marriage. If he only knew no other man will fall as passionately in love with you as I. Even in death, my heart will still radiate through earth and stone, and out my tombstone will seep, love for my Princess. I know your pondering what madness makes my tongue spill out these words that dribble off my lips. It's not my immagination that drives me into writhing this letter. While you depart on your journey through sleep, the castle walls are under relentless attack and will not hold much longer. The walls don't crumble to any treachery of man but to the behemouth claws of a fire-breathing beast. As this feather tip pen smears ink and stains this paper, the beast smears blood that stains the granite walls scarlet. Your father had all the gaurds abandon their post to defend the castle; however his efforts were futile. In one swipe of the behemouths unforgiving hand half the gaurds were crushed by scales stronger than any steel man could forge. The other half tried retreating but were instantly engulfed in Hell's inferno, which spewed out the beast's mouth with devastating destruction. It's not my intentions to frighten you or take your breathe away. The castle lay nearly in ruins and those who did not perrish, had enough wit to get far away from here as possible. So there won't be any help tomorrow. So when you read this in the morning you'll wake to the putrid smell of burning flesh, there will be a terrible sight of slaughtered men women and children. All that remains of your empire will be rubble and ashes spread throughout the vasness of your land. I will not be here in the morning. I can feel the heat from the flames rising up the stairwell. I pledge my life to you and I promise that your lungs will bill filled with air throughout he night. I'm going to slay the beast. If his scales are tougher than steel well then I'll jut have to stab him from with in. Please don't think of this as madness or disregaurds of caution. I will walk up to the beast and when he opens his jaws to eat me I will leap into his mouth and stab his heart through his throught. I must go now the soot is coming up and burning my eyes and filling lungs. I'm sorry, I'll be the one to break our promise. I will not be able to be with you forever... you can count on my love to be there, even in death. Farewell... My Princess. 

Copyright © Steven Medellin

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Key of Life

Life is filled with Hardships and Moments.
Ones we'll remember and some will forget.
It matters not how it happens or why.
But that we enjoy what life has to offer.
Even though the going does get tough,
and living isn't easy.
Success will be and continue to be
the Key to life.

Copyright © Tanner Anderson

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Celena, Brave Celena- Part 2

Their rending cries, when all is still, reecho in the moonlight;
They lie about in fitful slumber on the ground at noonlight,
Their virgin hair spread in the dust; for nothing really matters:
Who then will see their tangled locks, their dresses all in tatters,
The myriad trails of tears on dusty faces robbed of gladness,
The haunted eyes all swollen red, such depthless pools of sadness?
It seems that they could melt the rocks to tears of lamentation,
There being not a hope for fair Celena's preservation.

Both months have passed; the time has come. Celena must be going;
She wanders to her father's house, while dreading, fully knowing
The manner and the time of death; she sees the gory vision
Of being bound, awaiting fate for Jephthah's poor decision;
Her trusting eyes both fixed on his, both filled with untold torture;
The final sight her eyes will see before her soul's departure:
Yet still she presses on, determined, lest the Lord in fury
Rain down his wrath for promise broken in a deadly flurry
On father and his wife and daughter, nation, tribe, and village,
And curse their life and health and plenty, oxen, sheep, and tillage
With sword or pestilence or famine, plague or deportation;
Thus one, though innocent, must die to ransom all her nation.

Beside his doorway Jephthah stands, all torn with deep confliction
Between the hope that she'd been killed, or lost her path's direction,
And longing just to see again his daughter, but for fleeting
Bitter moments, and to chisel in his mind the soft, yet wild beating
Of her heart against his own. Alas! A heart cast down in sorrow,
Dread, and fear: a heart run short of precious moments which to borrow.
Look! There she comes; the tearful maiden, followed by companions;
Bedraggled garments torn, and faces streaked with dust of canyons.
The bravest of them turn away with looks of wretched terror,
Departing to their distant homes, while trembling footsteps bear her
To where he stands, and wordlessly in this, their final parting,
Embraces her, and feels each heartbeat softly, wildly beating;
While that of his is softly, wildly, e'er so slowly bleeding.
Then hand in hand they tread together to the highest hilltop;
In Jephthah's grasp a wicked knife and fresh-picked bunch of hyssop.

With leather cord he binds her tight and lays her on the altar:
He takes in hand the fearsome blade, but there his fingers falter;
For sapphire eyes, Celena's eyes, into his own are bearing,
And seeing hurt and pain and fear, his firm resolve is tearing.
Jephthah's visage wilts and quavers, as if he would save Celena;
Then she speaks, his brave Celena, dutiful and grave Celena,
"Father, do it! Slay me now! E'er resolve is gone forever:
E'er I break and cry for mercy; then you know that you could never
Do this deed of you required." He with one last look of dolor
Into eyes so wide and fearful, thrust the knife and crimson color
Spread and trickled from her chest. So there it was! The deed completed.
There one moment, gone the next. The only thing he really needed
Frittered on a foolish vow. His only joy, his only child
Pale and still, and in her place a torture aye unreconciled.
Shaking fingers set the purest, sweetest offering afire,
Half expecting, hoping, wishing, as the hungry flames grew higher
That his precious sleeping daughter waken from her dreamless slumber;
But, alas! She ne'er could waken. Now he must be of the number
Whose lineage drifts away with them; who know no satisfaction:
Thus Jephthah grasped the wicked blade with sudden thought of action
And cut a yard-long lock of hair before the flame consumed her,
Then faced away; he could not face the awful way he'd doomed her;
Instead he snapped the blade in two and fell down by the altar
Crying, "Take this shame away from me, O Lord! And do not fault her
For dying in this time and fashion; let the blame be solely carried
By myself: oh, let her spirit live in peace!" And then he buried
His weeping head into his helpless arms, and kept on sobbing
Until the flames had burnt to cinders, thus forever robbing
Him of the chance of ever seeing sweet Celena's features.
Then he arose and stumbled home, not seeing all the creatures
Who stood their ground in utter silence, crying for Celena;
Nor all the girls at every doorfront, sighing for Celena; 
Thus never knew but one man's heart was dying for Celena.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

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Her eyes, though once bright, are cloudy,
Shrunken and fragile the form
That long was brimful of vigor
And a will to outlast life's storms.
She stares past a blank horizon
Through a door that I do not know;
The colors she sees are mem'ries,
Scents and sounds of the long ago.

A kaleidoscope of faces
Turns merry-go-round in her mind;
While trees out her window whisper
Soft lullabies long left behind.
The sound of my cheery greeting 
Draws her back to this metal room,
Away from a creaking rocker
And her mama's sweet, gentle croon.

If is not my name she whispers
As I bend down to kiss her cheek,
But a name more dear than ever
Mine was is the name that she speaks.
"Papa," the feeble voice quavers.
I'm no more a part of her world;
The grandma that soothed my sorrows
Is once again Papa's wee girl.

© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson

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The rustling sound of rain, heard through the window. Dust covered histored books that I tended to clean. A small forgotten letter fell by, a lost letter, was never sent... For my loved one;
“Oh how I cannot forget the smell of your breath, the scent of your hair surrounding my head as I bend and touch your sweet lips with my own. How I cannot forget the tight grips when we locked fingers standing close together in the lonely rain as you heat my body with the warmth of your chest. How I cannot forget your twinkling whispers in my ears sending shivers towards my feet, and your fair giggles with shiny eyes as you come across looking at me. How our lives were intertwined with heavenly love and then torn like a small leaf thus crumbling into ashes and dust. 
Not a day passed by since you met your fate have I not swallowed my tears into my guts… farewell my love, farewell my one. I hope you fare better in heaven than I do, down here, on earth."

Copyright © Sami Helbaoui

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A missive from the damned to whoever have a little time to spend with this nonsense - Page 2

But now, I wonder "Will I have the bravery to follow?"
Demise shall follow if I am to attain redemption and cleanness of my sins that tarnish my soul.
Sometimes, I cling to yes, sometimes I cling to no.
When the dark clouds blur my sight, I ask myself "What is worth living for?", some believe in god, some in money or in even a more mundane wish.
I lack this one thing, I lack the purpose that would impulse me forward. But then, I speculate "For me, must be love", but what is love? I do not know, I am an strange to it, perhaps this wasn't reserved for everyone.

Well, one thing is right, my passing will not be mourned nor missed. It will go like the wind, now here then gone and noone noticed a thing.
Many leaves were shaken, many tears soiled the ground, yet, none of this was spotted by anyone.

To the people I did wrong "I am sorry, please, do forgive me".
To the people that hates me, hate me more, be genuine with it and be the fuel of this endeavor. Hurt me more, make me bleed, cut open my flesh, as he once did when I was an infant, paint the wall with my crimson tint...
Make me regret to have been born, actually, this will require little effort, since I already regret that.
My mind is set, termination is the way to go if I desire to do something good, at least once, in this life.
No hope can be spied nor a glimmering light to lead this one to safety.

In a colorless world, only with shades of black and gray, thoughts of demise haunts me day after day.
I see the people around me, at work, on the the streets, everywhere and I cannot help but to feel disgusted and out of place and helpless.
I am tired of pretending, behind my mask, I weep, behind their masks, they laugh at me.
I am tired of being fed by deceiving tales and to feed other with my lies.
The lies... It is everywhere, one must tread lightly between them, or else will fall their prey.

Copyright © The First Born The First Forgotten

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As dawn come
As sun rise up
As cold air embraces me
The time I thought I’ll be happy
Full of expectation
Full of dreams
The dancing leaves
The ripen fruits
The Flowers as they bloom
Gives me hopes, dried my tears
The singing of the birds
The outcry of the poor
The echo of his voice
Children’s Laughter as they enjoy
The sweet smile of my mother
The flapping of roaster’s feathers
The sweet scent coming from the kitchen
Washes away my heartaches and pain
The sweet smile in each person I’d meet
As I walked along the crowded Street
Searching for his face
Widen my pace
Nothing I have seen
Words remain unspoken
As sunset passed by
A time when stars start to glimpse up in the Sky
“Cause only my pillow knew
Too late, Regrets follow.
Hated this unspoken words
Striking the very core of my heart like swords
Too late to say
“Cause he’s far away.
Summer starts
A time he departs
As he lay his head back down
And sleep safe and sound
 Rest! That is FOREVER!
Picture is my only souvenir
As you laid down in a coffin
Due to Tremendous accident
Thank you, my dear Boy Friend
I’ll treasure you ‘till the end

Copyright © Joan Iligan

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My Farewell

Dad, this my apology and a prayer of farewell.
To you and me.
So maybe I can feel that you have forgiven me.
And all the things in my life now make since.
Your sad gray eyes haunt me at night.
I can never forget that you have left.
I can’t seem to let go because it feels as I am letting go of my past.
Goodbye to a little girl who misses the comfort of being a daddy’s girl.
Goodbye to cuddles at night and chocolate-chip pancakes in the morning.
I cried for your soul and hope that your happy where you are.
Please send me a sign so I know your al right.
Goodbye to memories of a man singing as he played his guitar with his soul.
 How can I explain the pain when I remember my life as before.
 Goodbye to the roughness of your cheek each time I kissed you goodbye.
I have forever changed and feel I haven’t ever made you proud.
So now I long to pick up a phone and call to say “Hi!”.
I would have given my life just for a hour to tell you thanks.
I need your courage and strength when life strikes me down.
Goodbye to stern lectures of life.
I miss seeing your face and laughter when it rains.
Or how your face lighten up when my children yelled,,“Grandpa!”.
I never thought it would ever end up this way.
I feel that chance played a hard joke on us and now I am paying for it.
 I just can’t get past this because your not here to guide me through this.
 So I sit and ponder on streams full of memories and times that seemed so long gone.
Like the vast ocean I drown away trying to drift back to some kind of sanity.
I close my eyes and here the jingle-jangle of your keys as you limp on by.
I miss the pat on the back or the tightness of my hand enclosed in yours to reassure me it 
would be al right.
I think of so many goodbye to you..
Goodbye to the way your hair stood up after waking up.
 Or how we laughed when you snored.
Goodbye to yelling at the boys when they were misbehaving.
 But the most that always hurt is the goodbye to you.
Because it seems that centuries have passed since I last saw you.
  Even if it’s been a few years.
The world is cruel and I often wonder what to do?
I question that this is the end, for the pain isn’t gone.
It consumes my soul as I try to go on.
As a reminder of finer things in life.
I look to the sky and search for a sign that you are up there somewhere near by as always 

Copyright © Mary Montgomery

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The end has come.
Sooner than I thought, 
and even with my heart pounding
I know and accept
that it is goodbye.

Farewell my love.
I loved you for a long time
And letting you go was not easy.

My dignity flew away first,
Like a piece of paper in the wind.
It flew away...
Long before I heard the bell,
signalling the end.

I was stripped, naked.
With no self-respect, or
pride covering me.

Farewell Sir.
Have a good life.
I bid you farewell.

I straighten my back and shoulders
And know from this point on,
I will never look back.
Letting you go, when the truth
 finally reach my heart.

As you wish.

Copyright © Asheka Collins

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I'm All Well And Pained


You said I’m insane because I have not moved on.

Remembering the tears that I have spent alone…

I’m out of my age and I can’t act along.

With memories we have, you trash it all so long!


I said please and you said no!

Baby is it a real hell of No?

I said stay and you said go!

Baby is it a real hell of Go?

Without you is well I’m all so alone.


You said I’m chaser because I kept on calling you,

Remembering the stupid skies are all in color blue.

I’m well wounded and pained and seem I can’t go on.

With memories we have, you crash it all like a torn.


I said please and you said no!

Can we fight instead of this No?

I said stay and you said its end.

Can we make this love never ever end?

Without you is a breakable story of the end.


You said I’m so off because I can’t get along,

Remembering the joys of us was all too good and long.

I’m well in state insane and I can’t see the way of light.

With memories we have, you turned off everything that’s right.


I said please and you said no!

Is there a chance instead of your No?

I said stay

and you said it’s all out.

Is there a chance for us to go out?

Without you is a loud sorrowful mouth.


I’m unbearable, I know, in this one lost love,

It is being same as theirs like a one fairly love.

You have all choices to leave me in good night .

Without you, I’m all well pained in the brightest light

Copyright © Lei Strauss

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Hacia los recuerdos ilusionados

Andé por caminos reconocidos,
Llegué al bosque de los antepasados,
Trepé el árbol de recuerdos,
Y allí me senté con lágrimas cayendo;
Sin contención emocional,
Por la quebradura en mi pecho...

Baje por el tronco decaído,
Solo con memorias de aquellas caricias;
Tu piel sobre la mía,
Tus labios sobre los míos,
Mirada con mirada,
Mano a mano...

Escuché las cascadas de despojo,
Vi  río del perdón restringido y abandonado;
Observé tu silueta al otro lado,
Mientras me susurrabas tentativamente al oído:
"Ven hacia mi. Se mío de nuevo..."
Dejándome llevar, crucé y nadé,
Solo dándome cuenta de la ilusión recordada...

Seguí andando, surcos pasados;
Tropecé y caí a tierra de pecados;
Toda vista oscurecía, paisajes claramente oscuros;
Vuelvo y abro los ojos, conciencia y sanidas retomada...

Miro mi alrededor y me levanto,
En costas del océano ensangrentado me encontré;
El barco me esperaba;
Camino hacia la barca,
El océano muerde mi piel;
Subo al barco fantasma,
Y dejo que el mar rojizo se lleve mi alma...

Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz

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So long and farewell

A life long friend,
A soul mate,
A heroine, a star
A woman so phenomenal,
The very best by far

I never thought I’d have to 
Say these last goodbyes
So long and farewell my hero
A girls so strong and wise

These last few weeks of life 
Since your diagnosis
Have been so tough, but you pulled through
So difficult to notice

One day we will meet again
And live our lives together
We’ll start a new life, you and me
And share one heart forever

Copyright © Jordan McCallum

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Chaka Zulu

Chaka Zulu 

Dlungwana son of Ndaba!
the greatest warrior of all times
conceived out of wedlock by his mother Nandi and his father
voracious one of Senzangakhona
son of Nandi kaBebe, the daughter of a Langeni chief
born in Langeni territory at the Nguga homestead 
bayete inkosi

The scorpion of Phunga 
boy from  esiKlebeni homestead
who was cooked in the deep pot of Ntombazi
overcame Msikazi among the Ndimoshes
son of the Mhlathuze Valley and Langeni people
bayete inkosi

Mandla kaNgome
who moved to the Mthethwa people
grew up in the court of Dingiswayo
founded the Ntontela regiment
the impi in the iziCwe regiment
bayete inkosi

Axe of Senzangakhona
the warrior of Mhlathuze River
designer of the aniklwa
the king of KwaBulawayo, at the banks of the Mhodi,
in the Mhlathuze valley,
bayete inkosi

Young raging one of Nbaba!
the cause of Mfecane, Difaqane, Lifaqane
king of the centralized monarchy
builder of the Dukuza
undisputed, almighty ruler
bayete inkosi

Copyright © Seth Yuhi Musinga

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The ground that I tread


Your little finger

I bid good bye

The sights 

Of mountains and fields

I saw sitting on your shoulders

I turn a blind eye

The air I breathed

Lying on your chest

No longer 

Sustains  my life

The sound 

Of your heart beats

Are no longer

My lullabies

The sights there


To show me

Your face dear

The winds 

Do not carry

Your voice


The whiff of air

Still blows smooth

But lacks

Your scent

So how can I

Call the land ours

When you are not there

To hold me tight

We left it together

You forever

And i chose

Never to be there ever

Copyright © sharmila menon

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A deeply shaded dead end dirt road, the trees hang low and heavy, swallowing the road behind and shortening the distance ahead; without a trace, car and all, he disappeared into the wood.

Copyright © dennis jones

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They found her today, curled around a dirty blanket under an overpass.  The coroner estimated her age at 78.

She had been an aged, unhealthy homeless woman, living on the streets, seeking sustenance from whatever source presented itself. 

While alive, when seen, most passersby had turned away in disgust; Youths would yell: “Get a job”, or hurl insults at her.

But … who was she … who had she been …?

--=< * >=-

She abandoned her dreams at an early age, and elected to follow the dreams of the man she thought to be her champion and life long companion.  More than once she uprooted her life and accompanied him in pursuit of some passionate dream he embraced … and did her best to help him find it.

The “star” on which she had hung her hopes and her entire future abandoned her, with their child, in a bus station in Georgia.  She was 28 at the time.

Wear of the years and hardships had taken their toll on her, both mentally and physically.  The times and opportunities had passed in which she could have engaged in furthering her education, and it was these things she had put aside to follow “his” dreams.

It was not she who failed, but rather, the “star” she had believed in.  The mirror of hope and aspiration she had longingly gazed into when she was fifteen, he had shattered.  A lifetime was lost, and its’ shell she wore as tattered rags.

She did those things she had to do to survive, and her child, taken from her, was somewhere in the morass of government bureaucracy, assuring she’d never see him again.

There were days of solitude where white tracks on her soiled face could be seen from her eyes to her chin, as the legacy of her memories.

Her days were filled with foraging.  Her eyes had been dulled by disappointment and defeat.  Her body was dirty and scarred.  Hope to her remained only as a memory of a word of no substance or possibility. She was completely void of any expectations and lived from day to day driven only by the most basic of instincts … it’s what’s left when dreams are callously destroyed.

I was too late, but, today, at last I had found my Mom.	

Copyright © Jack Clark