A five and a zero.
The big one creeping up,
Four three two one!
The countdown has begun
The race is on.
Big one creeping up so fast
I can hear the crack of the gun.
The big five... Oh
My mother didn't make it past.
I've been told that that's your big one,
Your own ceiling of glass;
That it creeps into your psyche,
Your parents to outlast.
I've been working for a while
To quit smoking before forty,
Success five years too late.
Five to go, the age that she was shortly.
Fifteen years six months eight days between us
Is as close as we ever got.
I don't need closer now,
I have a second shot;
I almost died with no idea what hit me,
A tragic but not sad how.
So to me it does occur
To slowly drown as your lungs fill
Is to fill a fate
I would much rather defer.
For On Turning Fifty Contest
Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2017
“Good-bye my daughter dear,” she said
As tears welled up in her eyes
“It’s time for me to go to sleep
This must be no surprise
The good Lord knows my battles
And my health is ailing still
He’s given me so many blessings
I’ve passed them to you in my will
I’m sad to say good-bye
For we have shared much joy
Remember me to Sarah
My grandchild I love and enjoy
I love you my daughter
These years together have been sweet
I’m so glad you love the Lord
And again we will meet
I’m not afraid of dying
‘Cause I know that in a while
Christ will call me from my grave
I feel my life has been worthwhile
For I taught you to seek your Father
To help you through every trial
He’ll always be there to guide you
With never a denial
I leave you in His hands”, she said
As she gently kissed her daughter’s hand
Her eyes closed very slowly
Against cancer she’d lost her stand
She’d been a wonderful mother
Teacher and true friend
Faithful to her Lord
And gracious to the end.
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2007-2012
Copyright © MAUREEN LEFANUE | Year Posted 2012
sometimes in mass
as sacred songs
wash over me like rain,
I break free
and again you rise,
your tears flow
as tears fill my eyes,
your dying breath
after so many years,
the knife still cuts
and again, and
(20 May 2015)
Copyright © Steven Federle | Year Posted 2015
The dragon of disease captured and cremated my mother
from the criminal cancer.
Oh, how I mourn her enchanting emerald eyes!
Her favorite color was the silky sheen of green, still is I
should say since her spirit stirs within me and within the
Here in the novel nourishing Northwest, reminders of her
regal royalty prosper in a pea green puzzle.
The giddy glaucous Fir Douglas branches float as friendly
feathers, reminding me of her hardworking artistic hands
and humble hugs.
The virescent veil of copious serene green fosters the
fertile foundation for flowers, stems, buds, leaves, trees,
pines, giddy grasses, ivy and the jubilant jungles.
Within mother nature's jade ink, my mother eyes and
essence still exists!
March 2 2016
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2016
My name is James, born 1961
In Inverness, a small Scots town
To my father Andrew, and my mother Beryl
And Billy my brother, a pair of devils
In 67, we woke one night
Our house was ablaze, full of orange light
Our neighbour next door, for whatever reason
Started a fire, it must be crazy season
We had too move to a caravan park
By this time it,s three, to make a new start
My mother Beryl decide to leave
But the three of us left, never bothered to grieve
In the next few weeks, we ended in court
Two small children, in a marriage abort
We were asked to choose either Dad or Mum
But we ignored the parent, who went on the run
As we left the court, to start a new life
We felt sorry for Dad, as his illness was rife
He never told us that he was unwell
It would upset one of his boys, as the future will tell
Then came the night all parents dread;
Being told one of his boys is nearly dead
We were going to a boys club, on a Monday night
My brother was running so far out of sight
I turned the corner to see him ahead
No!! he's been hit by a van, Boom's Boom's dead
I ran to my father, sreaming and crying
I'm finding my life,at 7 - far too trying
After the funeral, and with my father unwell
We left Inverness, our eyes a swell
To go as two, and not three as before
It's like Mother Nature closed a door
So we headed west, to a place called Fort William
Was it in the stars, cause Billy " is " William
We moved there, as the air was so pure
Hoping my father will find his cure
For whatever reason, we left the above
We found no Angel or peaceful dove
So we headed back to Inverness
Fathers health decreasing, life still a stress
Over the next few years, i was fostered and loaned
In couples houses and children's homes
It was really strange in all those places
Different people, different faces
Then on the 16th of Feb - 76,
James, i was told, your dads very sick.
The cancer had taken your father away
To be with Billy, where you'll join them one day
In 77, i joined the Navy, as i promised my dad you see.
I did'nt enjoy it, i decided to leave
Back up north, where my futures to be
I wanted to have, what my parents had lost
And that was my aim, no matter the cost
see page 2 of 2, ty..
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
Without you, the days are so long
& sometimes it's hard to just carry on.
You gave life & love to all things
The joy of giving was what you would bring.
I see your smile inside my head,
It just isn't fair that you have to be dead.
I know you suffered though all the while
You held your head high & even would smile.
As I watched you go through it, I always had hope,
Even when we came to the end of the rope.
Everything that we went through
Helped make us closer & more loving too.
Through ups & downs you always were strong
Even when you knew you didn't have long.
Life can be kind & cruel in the same,
But you will live on forever because of loves eternal flame.
Copyright © Aimee Rodriguez | Year Posted 2015
What's most inportant in life?.... today
not tomorow but now,
Now is for living, loving, giving...today
yesterday has memories good and bad
but today is for you and Dad.
You see people rushing, pushing, shoving
everyone in a hurry,
wishing the time away.
If only they would stop and think
they're wishing their lives away,
I want to stop them and say
tomorow is not inportant,
live for ....today
That's what's inportant,
they should stop and think
It is today that matters,
Every day there is new life
in leaves and flowers
We must enjoy every waking moment
To wake up to the sun shinning through the windows,
the warmth it brings
the birds that sing
Jem you are in our thoughts each day
you are very special,
so go on live for .......TODAY and TODAY
and TODAY and TODAY and TODAY............................
Copyright © jacque lee | Year Posted 2007
Listening, reaching for the Ideal,
her wanderlust- devoid of fear
Seeking the truth-
The Mother- crying for a thousand years
Of all the pain
They are killing Her in every way
Carcinogenic ants raging wars
Creating immortal scars,
Killing Her giving heart-
She cries... FEW know
But She shows me the way
"There still is a place,"
the Great whispered in my ear, "of where hush and lull
Free of the stinking, free of the rapists and killers
of My apportioned Nature."
So I listened and became raptured by the picture
She bestowed upon me;
A placidity, a serenity of depth and white
Where the pines yawn
And the constellations are radiant-
She begged me to try;
"Live my beautiful, faithful child
In the place of virgin
left only because THEY
cannot abide by it's harshness"-
"But YOU", she sang, "can consort with the beast and
the beauty to make all One, As I die
In all other places-
I leave you this small piece of Myself."
I screamed to her- Crying-"But You, knowing of All- giver of All
Why abandon Your post?"
"Because The cancer is burning My eternal flesh into
Only I am no longer eternal."
and I understood- and I followed her lead
Now I stand in a place known to few,
To Her, to me, and to the silent melody
Of Wildness and White
My eyes filled With joy as I heard Her caring moans
singing to Sister Moon -
Through an assemblage of wolves,
as She winks at me through blue, pink and radiant emerald
I know I am home.
Honorable Mention in Mac Mcgovern's contest "Your Best Poem".
Copyright © Amy Green | Year Posted 2010
You gave me life
In the end
I didn't lose
But gained you
Copyright © Maureen McGreavy | Year Posted 2017
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 | Year Posted 2014
He was sitting cross legged at 15th and Market
The people would walk around him during the workweek
He sat chatting with his cat
The cat was named Mr Johnson and they were friends
The man had skin cancer on his nose in the form of a bloody mole
And there were days when he sat talking with the Mole
The Mole would chastise him saying,"If your mother could only see you now."
"If my mother could see me now it would be a miracle,"said the man
The man's mother had been dead for over 20 years
The Mole loved to get his back rubbed but the man was tired
So the Mole gave him the silent treatment
And Mr Johnson reached up and scratched the mole
"You musn't be mean to the man or I will not feed you Mole."
The Mole apologized to the Man
The man decided to tell the Mole a story and cat would add parts
He always added parts
There once was a flower
'It stood near a Disco tower, "added Mr Johnson
Its petals were yellow
"All good moles shout hello,"sang Mr Johnson
And the policeman was shaking the man and his mole
"Move along buddy."
Attempt at Burlesque
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
You wake up to your mother’s loving voice.
She has a gift for you that she knows you’ll love.
You close your eyes and hold out your tiny hands.
You feel something soft, but cold to the touch.
At the sight of it you let out a squeal of delight.
A pink ribbon.
You wake up to your piercing alarm.
It’s your high school graduation day.
You notice your mother smiling in the doorway.
She has a gift that she knows you’ll love.
Eyes closed, you feel a familiar sensation around your wrist.
A pink ribbon.
You wake up to the soft sound of weeping.
You find your mother downstairs, heartbroken.
She was clutching two things in her hands.
The first was a letter from the hospital.
You saw the other and knew it could mean death,
A pink ribbon.
You wake up to a methodical beeping.
You’re in a hospital room with your mother.
She runs a hand over you shaven head.
She has a gift for you that she hopes you’ll love.
Eyesight blurred from tears, you know that feeling.
A pink ribbon.
You wake up to your mother’s loving voice.
Someone’s at the door for you.
At the sight of them let out a squeal of delight.
The march has come to you!
Every person has what you love.
A pink ribbon.
Copyright © ILyeza Thomas | Year Posted 2014
Maybe the guff was empty—Cancer full moon eclipse
Left field call on the black wall phone
faint cry from the distant end
spoke with throat lump of capital
disaster and a troddened womans most
everydom—lost before found—somehow Jan
knew and put forth a celestial no comment with
I-hope-I-am-wrong-love gesture for the
love torn bull awaiting a cancerfold friend
offspring no spring-perhaps next spring. Anna
soild Anna so poised of classic stock sometimes
never bending to an antiflexible Taurus mood
was caught in a never place, why of questions-
depleted character strikes. Will the blood
hordes rally for the fallen “fetalrade” and
heal the internal emohurt temperature
inferno of unknown bliss. Does it ever come
at the right instant? Like where’s a cop when
you really need one—maybe 7-11 therapy would
bring solice and peace. Forgive the forgiver
and pass your sense into another ability
Keep your mind and your soul for the little
lost egg. I don’t know know or could never compromise
no more of a complex juxtaposition of life
and death than that of biobeings so
closely connected that share the same
existance, one within-one yet
percent infinity bonded in a tidewater
liquid symbiosis that no manbeing in time
past or future will hope to match let alone
entertain. Be that as it may, you’ve felt the
sting of life and the creation of flesh for a brief
moment of time in time and time is that holder of all
events we hope to achieve—your time in both
will come to be—you will share
and create from within, and not waiver
about the fallbacks we run down for
no explanations from anyone will suffice
or reason to make a whole sense of such
a fathomless inconsistency. I felt your
loss deep in my knees and thoughts flew
to your little soul upstairs. There are words
and there are no words—my deepest senses
to you and Dana—I know it will happen for you
as all things come to pass for those deserving dave collins
Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013
My mom was a strong woman, and stubborn too,
Yet she had a soft side, between me and you.
That side she would show, when you least expected,
But let me tell you, she was well respected.
Mom was quite unique, and was one of a kind,
She was set in her ways, so keep that in mind.
The youngest of nine, she had gotten her way,
Spoiled by her siblings’, almost every day.
Right out of high school, she had married my dad,
Blessed with three children, plus fifty years they had.
They both were hard workers, in all that they did,
My dad taught himself, from when he was a kid.
My mom was a smoker, for forty-six years,
Some day it would happen, she’d face all her fears.
Lung cancer she had, and inoperable too,
Her time on this earth, would be shortened we knew.
Radiation and Chemo, had done their thing,
Remission set in, tears of joy it did bring.
We would go out at night, to shop and to talk,
I knew she enjoyed, getting out for a walk.
Two years had gone by, after Thanksgiving Day,
Her pain had returned, but was afraid to say.
She’d lie on the couch; it was strength she did lack,
We knew in our hearts, that the cancer came back.
We shared lots of laughter, but many a tear,
I tried to assure her, she’d nothing to fear.
“Please watch over your dad, this one thing I ask.”
“I know it will be, quite a difficult task.”
One morning in March, Hospice called us to say,
You may want to come, for she’s slipping away.
For the night before, mom told me to stay home,
“Be there for your kids, you can call me by phone.”
When we all arrived, for a moment she woke,
Her eyes said it all, not a word had she spoke.
We stayed by her bedside, just holding her hand,
“It’s time to let go mom, we all understand”.
A few days had passed, not ready to let go,
For it had been raining, but letting up slow.
The sun began shining, the clouds disappeared,
Opening the heavens, for mom’s time has neared.
We gathered together, her forehead we kissed,
Whispering so softly, how much she’d be missed.
“Your time has arrived mom, just follow the light”,
She left us so peaceful, she gave up her fight.
It was time to drive home, in the car we got,
Then something had happened, while leaving the lot.
Huge drops of rain falling, it had to be fate.
They were tears of joy; she was at heaven’s gate.
Copyright © Kelly Zakerski | Year Posted 2009
I cried for them this afternoon
Knew them since the matinee started
Saw them fall in love
At first sight, the world stopped
Everything was silent at the sight of it
They looked and were lovers
Later that day on their knees
Repeating vows that till today
They saw only in throw away plays
I cried for them, their lost love
But not for mother whose long life ended
By the Yankee Sluggers creeping disease
What was there to cry about?
As the blue ice calved from glacier slabs
Creased iron plates, made orphans, widows
And most aboard but not me or my mother
Or the yet unborn twice told tale
Tony was told she died, frantic with fear
He called out for her but got Chino instead
Saw her running to him, delirious with fear and joy
He got a bullet instead, tearing threw his back
Breaking his heart in half he fell into her arms
She covered his face with kisses and tears
And I too wept again for what could have been
What should have been for mother, died without my tears
For I knew not how to give!
Instead to those I gave tears so freely
But I knew them since the matinee started
Who cried for my three brothers
Charley, like Marley dragged his chains around
And spent a life time sawing them off, Michael who fell
From heaven one day, curly hair and welcoming smile
Orphaned by mother who just gave him away
Brain dead one day in June, the rest followed six months to the day
Brother Tom, large lonesome eyes never saw what the world wondered. Water boarded at age five, he left and never returned
Last month got cancer and died exactly one month later.
I cried today for the matinee lovers,
When I should have cried for them.
Copyright © James Gibbons | Year Posted 2010
She heard her name and awoke from her sleep,
as she heard her mother's voice she started to weep.
The memory of her death so clear in her mind,
she hoped her pain would mend with time.
She wonders what it would be like had she still be alive,
years have passed their bond no wedge could drive.
She yearned to see her grandkids grow old,
now she awaits for Jesus with hands that fold.
One lilac was left it was still in bloom,
it was placed in her hands as her spirit left the room.
She read a letter to her mother as she lay,
after all it was Mother's Day, a sad day in May.
She said please don't forget me I'll not be far,
her memory instilled in her like an old aged jar.
She kissed her forehead on her last Mother's Day,
as the hearse so carelessly took her away.
She sleeps in her grave as she is beckoned to come home,
where she no longer hurts with angels she'll roam.
Where the lilacs bloom that's where mother lives,
she lives through her children with love she fondly gives.
Copyright © Shannon tackett | Year Posted 2014
Dedicated to the grandma I never met - Irene Chapman
Breast cancer stole you away from mum
She was just eight years old when you died
Mum knew you were ill
She must have had a premonition
The day before you died she wrote you a letter
The next day….
She was told Mummy’s gone to live with Jesus
Four children without a mother
The youngest just five years old
Breast cancer you are evil
You don’t care who you invade
Women are encouraged to have regular mammograms
Imagine having your boobies clamped in a vice
It’s uncomfortable but five minutes of pain can save your life
But what about men - yes men can be affected
One in a thousand men get breast cancer
Women are encouraged to check their breasts every month
So get your fella to check your boobs
At the same time check out his moobs
Early detection is the key
Breast cancer can be cured
My mum missed out on having a mum
Not a day passes when she doesn’t talk about her
Breast cancer you are not going to beat me
I check my breasts regularly
Yes I’ve found lumps and had them checked out
I don’t want MY son to be a victim and lose his mum to breast cancer
October is breast cancer awareness month
Think pink – together we can win the fight
Pinktober # 2 Contest Sponsored by PD
3rd September 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
< "Hark" the Herald Angels begin to sing
"Jesus"patiently awaits so her children can say their last goodbyes
Cancer is the one thing she will not have to bring
For she earned her wings and is now free to fly
Perception Of Heaven's Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2012
Pale skin and eyes glazed over
Cancer, let him go
Copyright © Ari Ing | Year Posted 2015
I am all alone in this great big world
My destiny is being unfurled
I am responsible for my plight
And what I may do tonight
There is no one else to put my shame
Only me, myself, and I to blame
What did I do wrong you may ask
Only I can unburden my task
She is gone so you maybe you can see
Her lost dreams are my reality
She passed on an October day
Leaving my boy behind with me to stay
It is a daunting thing this boy of mine
Looks like his mother time after time
I love my boy he is much like me
I just want him to be happy
I have been told time and time again
That I need to reel my boy in
I don’t see that he is doing any harm
He has gone through hell, that’s his yarn
His mom’s dreams were so easy to see
She wanted the best for him and me.
I have a big guilt because she is gone
And left me the ability to carry on
I only wish that I would have done the same
A love like hers was hard to explain
I left her for another a long time ago
Before I knew about the cancer so you know
When the news came that she was ill
I really wanted to take a bunch of pills
Pills to ease my guilty pain
Of leaving the woman I loved out in the rain.
To my son, if you ever read these words of prose
Please take the time to ensure that everybody knows
That I loved your mother very much indeed
And you were the product of love not a misdeed
I sit here with a tear running down my face
Trying to find another to replace
The girl I loved more than anything at all
Except you my son, you are the apple
The apple of my eye the fruit of my loom
My entire existence is for you to bloom
Your mother and I are proud of you
And are happy you are succeeding in all you do.
Son I hope you will forgive me for things I’ve done
I have one life to live and mistakes can’t be undone
I hope I will be forgiven in the afterlife
And be reunited with your mother and my wife.
I hope your pain eases as you grow older
Never forget, but get bolder
You are almost a man in this big world
Please learn from my mistakes before you unfurl
Your mother and I will be waiting for you
With our arms wide open to rescue
Rescue you from this world of pain
To come live in heaven with us again
Duane LaChance Sr. - 2012
Copyright © Duane LaChance | Year Posted 2012
He's drempt of his mama in her garden of love,
surrounded by angels in heaven above.
Peaceful waters flow through a bubbling brook,
where her roses grew in every little nook.
She cherished the roses he had bought for her in life,
capturing their beauty and the colors of their sight.
When she was ill he knelt beside her bed,
and handed her roses with the tears that he shed.
She said don't cry for me it's beautiful over there,
where they climb so gracefully up Heaven's golden stair.
He visits her grave and places roses in her cup,
rest assured with Jesus she forever sup.
The rose bush he planted for her still grows today,
just as it did when Jesus took her away.
No sickness nor pain she can smell once more,
as she embelishes in her roses surrounded by her door.
She said plant you some roses in rememerance of me,
as you stroll through my garden waiting for you I'll be.
Copyright © Shannon tackett | Year Posted 2014
As I watched this disease begin the decay of my mother,
I saw that haunted horror had no eyes, but an evil heart.
We as a family drifted into the middle of the Artic sea.
My mother became isolated and my father and I sailed away.
The weekly chain of chemotherapy wrapped around her,
like snakes of science, claiming they carried the cure.
Her hair became ruby icicles 14 inches long, and suddenly
in a sweep they plummeted into my praying hands.
My own breath betrayed me as I gasped for air.
My childhood melted into oblivion at that moment.
Vomit became my breakfast.
Tears drowned my lunch.
Screams sacrificed my dinners.
Cancer cells were asteroids attacking my mother's body.
Every organ of her system had scars from colliding crashes.
Her restoration was a running unicorn in the midst of a forest
where winds courted money and rain seeped power.
She was a saturated soup of antibiotics, TPN, chemotherapy,
blood transfusions, saline solutions, vitamins and morphine.
My father and I sullenly climbed the mountain of mortality while
the avalanche rushed towards her with snow of soul sleep.
Where was the key to this terminal treachery?
In our world to find the turn of the lock of the dead.
Memories my mornings.
Affirmations my afternoons.
Eulogies my evenings.
February 15th 2007
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2015
Time seems to drag on and on
when you want it to go slow
but now its moving way to fast
because i might have to let you go
You've been here all my life it seems
everyday by and by
so it shouldn't be too confusing
that losing you could make me cry
Please don't leave me mommy
stay with me please stay
don't let it be the C word
mom you cannot go away
I cannot lose someone like you
someone who's always been there
and the thought of you lying there so cold
mom it's just not fair
That thing that scares us will be nothing
let's just wait and see
because there's one thing god won't do
and that's take you from me
Copyright © Anne Hessler | Year Posted 2013
I don’t want to go, you said
The words still echo in my head
Valiantly you held on tight
Loving life, even as you had to give up the fight
A month of hell, six weeks at least
It seemed so sudden
And yet long expected
If only in September I knew it was the last month of “normal”
Quality time with my family as a whole
Nightly rituals of television, Pogo games, and time with the dogs
Bi-weekly trips of life extending drugs
The poison slowly creeping into the bloodstream
Trying to keep the ever growing monsters from being the winning team.
For only so long can one enjoy only the taste of a flavor
Before it prematurely snuffs the light and all is over
You fought bravely
We lost dearly
Copyright © Robyn Graivier | Year Posted 2016
It's the waiting.
When time becomes thick with anticipated difficulty and borrowed suffering.
No matter how attentive and involved I may seem,
Internally I am fixated on the clock.
Each agonizing tick strikes like a hammer on my already throbbing temples.
Waiting for the call.
Hands shaking, I stare at my phone as if that will make it ring.
I feel like a teenager watching a pregnancy test after the condom breaks,
Sure of the result, powerless to change it,
Doomed to wait for those lines to appear.
Time is relentless and cruel,
Simultaneously progressing us toward our eventual demise
While filling the seconds, minutes, hours, days with Instagram photos.
We have no right of refusal, at the mercy of two hands and twelve numbers.
A face that never expresses empathy or support.
Time has no favorites.
Our charms, our wealth, our pleas are all powerless.
The playing field is level, yet I am unexpectedly on the losing team forever.
Nodding my head, pretending I am present,
Until at last the phone ringing ends my agony.
Time can stop when you least expect it.
The slug of my waiting instantly became the moment that changed everything.
Just thirty seconds to exchange pleasantries before pulling the trigger:
"The biopsy shows your daughter has lymphoma."
Time is racing now, forcing me to begin training to cross the finish line first.
Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2016
If the doctor gave you a month to live
Could you keep that to your self?
Could you swallow your fear for thirty days
And keep your secret stealth
"You could possibly make it through Christmas", he said
"If there's chemo in your veins"
So she silenty took the treatment, once more
And still she never complains
She'd been in remission for seven years
But again it started to grow
Her children knew that the cancer returned
But her secret, they didn't know
She would only tell her brother the news
And he swore he wouldn't tell
So Christmas finally came and went
But it was to be their last Noel
Then on the tenth day of January
She took her secret to her grave
After she died her children were told
Of this sacrifice she gave
She wanted this Christmas to be the best
A Christmas like no other
For she didn't want her kids to be sad
This woman was my mother
Copyright © Larry Belt | Year Posted 2012
Doctors are Beautiful
Nurses are Beautiful
Flowers are Beautiful
Balloons are Beautiful
Bright smiles are Beautiful
Clowns making funny animals figures are Beautiful
Friends holding your hand are Beautiful
Moms Dads Brothers and Sisters are Beautiful
Chemotheraphy is Beautiful
Never giving up the fight is Beautiful
But whats most Beautiful is
Bald being more Beautiful
Tribute To Cancer
Survivers and Victims
May They Find A Cure
RIP Mama 1934 -2005
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2007
To the woman I look up to,
To the rock that shielded me,
I will eternally thank you
For giving me this life with glee.
To the woman that smiled away her pain,
To the sword that slashed through my own,
I will live on with all that I've gained
From following the strength that you've shown.
To the woman that promised life,
To the light that has stopped shining,
It's time to rest and end this strife,
Your restful passing a sorrowful silver lining.
I will live on with your memory,
I will live on for you,
I will live on with your bravery,
I will live on with no rue.
Copyright © Angelus Somnium | Year Posted 2016
I do not know?
This poem is about a girl who is in a coma. She can hear you, but she can't respond. This is created from her POV.
I'm lying down on the hospital bed.
All I can do,
I hear the crying of my loved ones.
I want to help.
Tell them that I'm ok.
Even though I know that I'm not.
I go on, my ears suffering the sounds of wailing,
And begging me to wake up.
And I hear...beeping.
My heart thumps to the beat of the machine.
I hear my breathing.
Shallow and Labored.
I cannot see,
No longer can I smell,
I can hear,
But I cannot speak.
How can I get them to know,
That I'm alright and fine where I am.
I give all what's left of my empty, but medication-filled body's strength to squeeze,
The hand that's holding mine.
And hear a voice call my name.
A voice filled with hope, and agony, and pain calls out.
And it fills me with sadness.
Because I know, that I won't be here...for much longer...
They can see!
They can hear!
They can breathe and smile and live.
I want to tell them I love them.
Mommy? Daddy? I need you to see.
With your eyes.
That I'm suffering.
You won't be able to save your little girl,
I am leaving this place.
It's easier for me.
I'm going to a place Daddy, where I can return your favor,
And protect you.
I will make you as many macaroni necklaces when you get to where I'm going.
???????I can feel it.
Time to open your senses up, Mommy and Papa.
With your ears hear,
And with your eyes see,
That I'm tired, struggling, and that I need.....
I need to leave.
I'll be ok.
Ill get new eyes.
And with them,
I will watch over you.
With my angel friends.
And angel wings.
Copyright © Madelyn Nichols | Year Posted 2016
You weren't angered when you got the news.
You didn't even shed a tear.
You held your head way up high,
And faced it without fear.
You found the strength to comfort us,
In your time of need.
Never showed a sign of weakness.
You never looked for pity.
You've endured the pain of radiation;
Prevailed through each agonizing day.
Suffered through countless medications,
And triumphed along the way.
With the support of family and friends,
And your unwavering faith in God.
You've survived what cancer brought into your life,
And beat all of the odds.
Copyright © Sonia Trimmingham | Year Posted 2016