Bereavement Winter Poems

These Bereavement Winter poems are examples of Bereavement poems about Winter. These are the best examples of Bereavement Winter poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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The poem(s) are below...

Details | Free verse |

Tears... how brittle in the ruin of this heart
Like dampened weeds burned into cinder ,
When maple trees turn ebon and droop
As laughing winds do not return… nothing moves,
Not even the sky in its hazy curves.

              * `
I watch my own body… it becomes a stranger,
Melting into an anonymous phantom
That enters the dark through crushed wails…
But no one comes , not even a barn owl flapping
While a eulogy of sudden demise goes unsung.
                                           *      ~
And midnight tears wash over me    vanishing,
That I gaze at the maple leaves  slowly astir
The way he would fix them in a vase, especially
On this our anniversary… but cry I must, alone
Waiting for a tender ghost-kiss to put me to sleep.

Re- posted 1/4/2018
Free Verse: Winter Blues Contest for Laura Loo

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatern |

When the wicked winter comes
seeping past the wards she keeps,
she looks on as he succumbs,
thanking God it's while he sleeps.

She finds she is ill prepared
when the wicked winter comes,
to let go the life they shared.
Anguish swings its pendulums.

Heartbreak's endless requiems,
rites for which she dearly pays,
when the wicked winter comes,
blight her solitary days.

Tears remain behind her eyes,
years maintain the interums,
yet she still finds pain's surprise, 
when the wicked winter comes.


Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
                            (continued from Where do the Flowers go in Winter  Part One)

We buried her today
                             In early March
Winter is almost over
The ground is hard
So was my heart
Everyone dressed in black
                                  Why Black?
I wanted to wear
When I was eleven
I got a part in the school play
"Mom! Mom!  I'm going to be an Orange
Mom! an Orange!"
I got the part I'll need you to make my costume!"
                          "I don't have time
                              You're in my way
                                                       Go outside
You really don't want to be in the play
It's stupid
I don't want my son to play a fruit
                                                  a fruit
You want to be an Orange?  You're in the sixth grade
Big boys don't play oranges.  It's dumb
                                                         Your dumb
Tell Mrs. Wilson no.  Tell her no..."

They covered her up
I placed a white rose upon her grave
                 We went home.

No dinner
              I was hungry
But I could not bring myself to eat
For all others were in grief
I went into her room and sat in her chair
I listen through the walls,  words of sadness I hear
They told loving stories of this woman
How caring passionate kind she was
How she was an asset to the community
How well she raised her children
Three fine girls and a son

And a son
              How appropriate
              And a son, not a fine son
How could he be a fine son?
She's been dead for four days
And not one drop of water has left his two eyes
My father placed his hand on my shoulder
"Son I know how hard your taking this..."

"I never wanted children!
                                    Your Father did
He told me he would adopt
Good God rest my soul
So I consented
Three girls, a boy, then you
My family was complete
Four children.  You had a brother
If he didn't die.  If he was alive
I wouldn't of had you

                                (continued on Where do the Flowers go in Winter Part Three)



Copyright © Fritz Purdum | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
Hardly any human soul can be found outside,
only lonely footsteps on the ground this time.
The cold has fallen down
upon the sleepy snuggled town.
From the quiet sky
snowflakes are waving hi.
Serenity has come at last,
not asking about anyone's past.
It is just the joy of the white night,
it is just the peace of the houses' lights.


Copyright © Victoria Georgieva | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
She is Dead
                                 not sorrow
                                                not grief
                                                            Just numbness.

Over came me
My eyes they are dry
No tears can they shed
My heart it is the same
No feelings of loss
No feelings of pain
I must feel sadness
But deep inside
Deeply inside
There is a spark of eternal Joy

My sisters they weep openly
A thousand tears of emptiness they release
From redden eyes
                           Even my father
                                 Who I thought
                                  I honestly believed
                                  Had long ago
                                   Stopped loving her
He cries alone in a chair by his bed
Alone in the dark
Gently the tears roll off his cheek
To his lap
                             He lets them roll

Than suddenly he grasp his face
With both his big hands
As if to tare out his eyes
His head and back collapse to his knees
He falls from his chair
                             And snobs.
Yes even Father
Who treated her so cold
Even he loved her.

She is Dead.
                Gone from this life forever
                But that is what she wanted
                When I was but a lad of nine
                 And she a lady of thirty three
                 Do you know what she told me?
                 When we were in the car
                 Just her and me
"I want to die!"
                  She said it
                                  Just like that
"I want to die before I'm fifty
I don't want to age"
         "But Mommy I love you"
Tears seep from this babe's face
          "Mommy you must live forever!
           I love you Mommy!
           I love you Mom-"

"SHUT UP!                                                       SHUT UP!
I wish I was dead so I would never
Have to see your face again!"

After that day I stopped loving her
         How could I love something I might lose?
         How could a boy
          A mere boy

            (continued Where do the Flowers go in Winter (Part two)


Copyright © Fritz Purdum | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
             (continued from Where do the Flowers go in Winter Part Two)

All your father wanted was a son
And I gave him a son
Big strong boy-he was
But he died
And we had you to replace him

Damn her Soul!
Damn her Soul!
                       A child
                               Mommy I was but a child
                                Against her
Why did she hate me?
Why did my mother hate me?
She wouldn't give me a chance
Never did she hold me
Never did she kiss me
Never did she weep for me

                             "Seek Jesus!"
                                              She told me when I was ten
She became very religious
Whenever she wasn't at church
She took time off  to go to work
Her family was nonexistence to her
                Saving souls for Jesus
                Saving souls for Jesus

                                               "'s okay to show emotions son
Even I shed a few tears for her"
I got up from the chair
I hugged my father
                           "Thanks Dad"

Weeks went by
           I am at her grave
           The tombstone
"A woman who loved everyone
                                             And who was loved by everyone"
She did not love me 
And I did not love her

The snow is gone now
It has yielded to grass of green
Birds sing in trees against skies of blue
Flowers, O yes
My mother and I loved flowers
Flowers all kinds of flowers
She favored roses
But I like irises
All my three sisters
                             Even my dead brother
They were born in Spring and Summer months
She called them her little blossoms
I was born the same month as she
       In Winter
       In January
No flowers, no birds to sing
Just snow, ice winds, cold
          Where do the flowers go in winter?
           Why can't they bring you love then?
I feel to my knees
Against her tombstone
And I begin to weep
First one tear from the right eye
Suddenly two from the left eye
                         I cried
                                  And cried
And cried
For no matter
                   No matter
That eternal spark of joy
                                   Burst into a flame of infinite sorrow
I knew   That Yes    I loved her
   I loved my mother.
                                     (the end)          

Copyright © Fritz Purdum | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

the dusky clouds eastward, slowly sailing
a chiling breeze from the trees wailing
the goldfinch, scared of dark, hiding
leaving me to the night without singing

everything in the open is gloomy, neglected
streets void of moving souls, stark naked
and while  the night lets down the curtain
night shadows steal out quietly to frighten

i light the soul's candle and drown in wonder
a soft light and the silence adequete in my chamber
past times and heydays were first to remember
to journey thru a trance by the light of the candle

papers, bits of sheets to highlight the drama
sink in the souvenirs of devine poetic coma
relish the dreams, pink and red in sweet aura
of poetic sleep, deeply in some mystic nirvana

mirth cut through by a storming thunder
the joys faded away like misty summer
sleet and hail showered from silver heaven
Winter's uprising, Autumn a soldier defeated

whiles by a candle light years of mirth
revival of feelings after romantic dearth
warmth of the silky dreams once we did
to innocence of  childhood, farewell i bid

Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
In frozen realms where snow to spring’s will never bends,
The laden branches of the firs quake full of fright
And only the audacious sunlight solace lends
To bashful birds which fear the loneness of their flight. 

Dark, weary thoughts and waking dreams enshroud my mind
And dismal visions veil in haze my feeble sight,
Which stares into the void and little comfort finds.
How haunting is the moving specter of the night!

The day grows dim when dirges spread their aching blight
And broken skies unleash their curse of ice, and when
Gray, heavy clouds both earth and tameless seas unite
In tongues of frost with words unbridled by the pen. 

The lure of winter rest, the sun’s abiding shine
Are both forgotten by the wind’s dry, bitter might
As years grow old and weak while youthful hopes decline
And I await the solemn verdict of the night. 

Just you, dear mother, gently calling from within
Your peaceful nest of withered leaves and wilted thyme,
Entrance my senses like a fair and lambent queen
Whose calls reach forth from far beyond your grave and time.

The birds are still, the wick of joy is drowned in fear
And lost within the restless sea of aimless plight
When stars are growing dim and midnight’s call is near.
Beware the strange and sullen silence of the night!

Find my poems and published poetry volumes at

Copyright © Eton Langford | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |
Oh, how this winter rain would glide along,
descending down the landscape’s bristly curves…
It’s waiting just for our “Come on!”,
but simply, no one’s there to say the words.

Beneath, through the November mist at last,
the color-yielding trees are quiet now,
renouncing their leaves and summer past
and pounding on the sky with bare boughs.

And thus renounced, we gather bitter taste
to ourselves, to our old addresses.
And so it falls again, but not that rain –
begotten, not created, of one essence.

Translated from the Bulgarian by Diana Stefanova

Copyright © Plamen Sivov | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
Frozen sky and frosted ground
In the mystique grey of departing light 
They meet in the abode of those departed. 
The identities dissolve in inseparable oneness 
Brings together close
The living and the dead
In gripping stillness and in dense silence 
In fading light and in gloomy desolateness
Of the graveyard in the wasteland reclaimed
All engraved in consumed life’s winter frame.

Defoliated trees clad in somber grief
Stand static as the shadowless sentinels
Lest those lying beneath the stones resurrect
And fly away with the northern wind.
The children of the past born under the sun
Left behind the warmth in the distant hearts
When time came to find a place in the earth.

The bouquet laced with love not yet dead
Carries the frozen flare of remembrance.
The defrosted soul may rise as mist
Wrap the life standing in despair
In cold embrace of old drops of tear.

September 16, 2017

Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
The cold,
	It bites, stings, and burns. 
	And yet, 
	I stay as the night turns. 

	Even now,
	I can’t feel even your spirit.
	You’ve wandered,
	So far away, I see it. 

	Despite it,
	I can’t feel a bit of happiness.
	I want you,
	I know that I am being selfish.

	I’d smile,
	Wondering how you would react,
	To see me,
	A new being and in tact. 

	But now,
	You’re just a concrete block.
	In town,
	I can hear the bell ring for the clock.

I can’t stay,
	For I don’t know what I am.
	What am I?
	Am I a child’s toy or a human?

	The sun,
	It begins to rise, signaling to me. 
	It’s time,
	For me to leave you be. 

	I say my eternal goodnight, as you begin to degrade,
	And walk away to find my way in life’s parade.

Copyright © Frisk Carris | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
I don’t know where you’ve gone,
And I don’t know how long it’s been.
I’ve been here all alone, 
And these letters have gone unsent. 

I’ve tried reaching you for hundreds of years,
But, like the cold, I’m frozen by my phobias and fears.
Whenever I try to move on, I feel alone, 
And these letters have gone unsent. 

Through the snow and the wintery winds,
I can’t feel a thing as I keep looking for you.
I’m insane, I’m mad, in other people’s minds,
And these letters have gone unsent.

If you’re there, why haven’t you written back?
Can you not feel the warmth I send you?
I can feel this cold heart of mine crack,
And these letters have gone unsent. 

Strings can no longer hold me together,
I can’t seem to fix myself anymore. 
Over the graves and through forever,
And these letters have gone unsent.

The concrete is vaguely cold,
Under these hands that are worn.
My tears are spent and my spirit’s sold,
And these letters have gone unsent. 

Slumped against the grave,
And looking to the sky,
There’s nothing worth to save,
For my letters will always go unsent. 

Copyright © Frisk Carris | Year Posted 2017