I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here
I can’t get back in control of my emotions
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy
I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help
Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
The function of a human hand?
Writing a message, making a bed,
Opening a jar, dialing a phone,
Putting on pantyhose,
Touching the face of a child,
Or a lover.
And in its absence?
Yawning space and phantom pain,
And an oddly-shaped bandage
At the end of Angie’s arm.
PFC Hernandez, home in El Paso,
Watches her family watching her,
Writing awkwardly with her left hand,
Brushing her black wavy hair,
Watching Dr. Phil
Wearing an old gray-green T-shirt
Bearing the faded words
“Proud to be a Marine.”
Gasping and choking,
She wakes from thick, dusty dreams
Of shimmering, endless sand,
Echoing hollow with hatred,
And the feared but half expected
Roar of fiery amber heat,
Breaking the angry stillness,
Searing through the night
And Angela’s right hand.
Copyright © Ginna Wilkerson | Year Posted 2006
Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, born at the close,
defeat your only destiny.
Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain, sometimes the strong
are chosen to fight the hopeless wars.
You began to lose before you rose;
they who called you Joseph
sought the land which held your father's body,
but you would not sell the bones of your father and mother.
Chief Joseph, they followed you a thousand miles.
You left your home,
but they would not let you go.
You fought with the frantic fury of the bush fire.
Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain, they caught you
but forty miles from your goal.
Your people broken, slaughtered, scattered.
Count the children, O Chief Joseph.
Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, they would not kill you.
The heart beats, the spirit dead.
The strong man born to bitter end.
"From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever."
Copyright © Adela DePavia | Year Posted 2013
I remember all the nights we use to play,
but now I can't play anymore because your not here today.
Your here in my heart and that will never fade away.
Sometimes I would be a hard-headed child,
but in your eyes you saw an angle smile.
I love you like God love the family, unconditionally.
I remember your brown eyes, gray hair, for you were wise.
I also remember when you had to leave, so your soul could be free.
See, I'm older; more mature, and understand what's going
on, but back then I was only four.
I still remember that day like it was yesterday.
Well, you were buried that day and everyone had a sad face.
I remember that day very well indeed, as I looked at you
and pleaded that you wouldn't leave me.
Now you’re gone and I have to be strong for both
of us, so our love can live through people who love us.
Copyright © Diona Finley | Year Posted 2005
I had a wonderful day, what could have went wrong
Went to sleep feeling like a brand new man
Laying in bed, sleeping so peacefully
Two guys walked in unexpectedly
They said wake up, no hesitation
Ten bullets in my back, no explanation
Was this a dream I’m gonna wake up from
No its not, I’m a completely dead man
Why me? Answer my question
I had a family and other love ones.
Now I’m gone, but memory lives on
How about you where do you stand?
Copyright © Chrishanna Powell | Year Posted 2012
Moon Walk on Your Grave
A life begun in stardom,
now, ending up in shame.
Relentless media, cruel world,
who then is there to blame.
A sadness inside,
no tears on your face.
The pain all but over,
mass confusion erase.
In wonder we watch,
can a life be explained?
Can't surface your agony,
under facade you remained.
Let's focus on the talent,
musical joy that you gave.
In peace now I pray,
moon walk on your grave.
© Rene' Brady 2009
Copyright © Rene' Brady | Year Posted 2009
(Part 2 of Trilogy for My Father)
We stand on cemetery Astroturf
strategically placed to spare us the dread hole,
snow scaling the tops of our shoes
to compete with the ice in our hearts.
The old priest’s boots peek from beneath
a cassock that dangles below his parka.
He jokes gamely about the weather,
reading prayers for my father, a man he never met,
with shaking hands and chattering teeth.
He is a stranger recruited by the others lest someone
discover the shame of self-inflicted death.
Numb in every way it’s possible to be numb,
we await the blows of a grief that suicide denied us
and summon memories that refuse to respond
while, in their place, we have
Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015
O beloved mother, o beloved sisters
departed from me, within years
of each other, to sadden my living;
I spend my days weeping...
reminiscing in my sorrow:
how we laughed together,
and faced another serene tomorrow,
knowing that sharing kindness
would bond our destinies
in ways so devoted and immense!
O beloved mother, o beloved sisters...
I let the unconsumed joy of memories
take me to those yesterdays
to thank God for our existence,
when we enjoyed the gifts He offered;
yes, even the smallest of them
were so lovely and precious!
And by watching how you faced death,
I admired how you became the bravest...
slowly letting go of what you possessed!
O beloved mother, o beloved sisters...
do you want me to continue crying,
or smile and console you with a future promise:
that soon we'll embrace one another
under the joyful eyes of our Creator?
Nothing foolish I will do to harm myself;
and wait I will 'till my end comes,
but until then my solemn prayers I'll recite
amid tombstones guarded by triumphant angels...
and bound for Heaven, I'll be smiling!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010
Up into the sky
like an Angel
at Soupland, watching him as he soared
like an Angel;
a strong love he had, sharing it till the end, yet
could not resist the resounding call
and he left,
Leaving us his poetry, for
when great storms come in, his laughter
will dry our tears like rain.
for Tom Bell, a great poet who taught us all--
to laugh and to smile…to learn… and to give.
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2008
Just one more time,
just one more breath,
just one more moment to remember the past,
lull in thy memories,
breathe in thy essence,
to look upon thy face,
to know you still care,
to know what we had was special,
to be preserved in preferred memories.
Where I am going I know naught.
Floating as if in limpid water currents,
languor reaching but finding not,
solitary enraged soul longing for one more kiss,
one kiss whence naught.
Malformed monsters feast
upon the vermin ravishing mine soul,
my tender heart loathing sunset’s rays enfold,
nighttime beseech me, broken heart unfold.
Another night shine through tears,
summoned by memories a hundredfold,
putrid time consumes life;
Cruel Life Sleeps.
Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2007
I looked in the mirror and all I could see was the pain of loss,
draped in jet black dress with a veil of gloom on my face.
I tried to smile hard but all I could see was a forced on gloss,
dabbed on my lips to hide the bitter truth of grief's trace.
I endured the sufferings of life but this was a misery of death,
digging the grave of my love imprisoned in a wooden case.
I tried to joke it off but my laughter was soaked in tear's depth,
drowning my joyous memories of him in whirlpool of distress.
I believed the idea to live happily ever after with him on my side
dolloped with love, but losing him broke my faith in shards.
I tried to flee from feel of a widow but my mourning couldn't hide;
drab heart of mine is like his cenotaph desolated and marred.
Date : 01/20/2017
Note : For the contest (Form E) by Broken Wings.
Placed - Third
The poem is a fiction.
Copyright © AFZAL NUSKER | Year Posted 2017
...for Ralph McTell
He was my closest friend and confidante
for over eighteen years.
I called him simply Brown Dog.
From a puppy to the present
he was always by my side.
Chasing rabbits through the pasture
or the sticks that I would throw,
he was the essence of vitality and joy.
As he aged, he would lie down at my feet,
an Old Brown Dog, his horizon now my yard,
limping, riddled with arthritis, he was clearly in great pain.
Today would be the day.
With a heavy heart, my shotgun cradled
in my arm, I tugged gently on his leash
and we headed to the pasture where
in better days he frolicked, free as a bird.
The sky was overcast as I settled him to ground.
"Goodbye, my friend," I whispered, as I went
to pull the trigger. But then suddenly a flash
of fur! a rabbit dashed from hiding and darted
into view. My companion broke free! bounding
t'ward his prey, his pain all but forgotten.
As he closed in, he took one final leap...
and fell in a heap to the earth, still and silent.
He had died the way he wanted,
on his own terms, free again, at last.
I buried him there, and wept.
I returned to his grave
with a granite headstone
which bore the inscription:
"To my Brown Dog, best friend and confidante,
thanks for the memories.
Rest In Peace.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2012
There was a boy I used to know.
He never let his feelings show.
Turns out he wanted suicide.
When he died, I cried.
Why did he have to go?
Was that why he never let his feelings show?
He hung himself like a criminal.
That’s not what he was like at all.
He still had time to grow.
Maybe he should’ve let his feelings show.
There was a boy I used to know.
Copyright © Nikolas Fantocone | Year Posted 2013
Many times, I saw my spirit.
Many times, I felt my soul.
In life, I lived courageous.
Now it is time for me to journey home.
If you cry, that is fine.
If you laugh, that is better than a cry.
Rejoice in my life and shout praise.
For I am
Therefore, I shall be
In peace, I leave this world.
To my love ones, I am with the Lord.
Sure happy to have lived
Not sad that my time has come
The benevolence of the spiritual realm is a breeze from a waterfall.
The Lord is my keeper.
He called me home.
No more sadness let us all rejoice.
Ms. Carrie Mae Sexton is now reunited with Jehovah God Lord. A woman of statue...
A woman of worth... All that knew her will truly miss her.
Never a life lost but one done with the world and because she walked a virtuous path, her life is shown. The Lord knows best and we must know the same. Our mother sojourns and in peace, she lays.
[“Be assured that just as an hour is only part of a day so life on Earth is only part of eternity.” C.L. Allen]
User Name: Verlena
Psuedonym: Oblivion Dark Sunshine
Motif: Grief and Bereavement
-Contest Enter: Space & Time - Metaphorically written... Eternity is space and time... February 2014
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
A long list of names with not a friend among them
Is it just of book of hidden faces
Not a single word I've ever said was
written with truth
And here's the proof
When there's tears streaming down my face
Stuck in place
Is a smile that is a lie
When every time I look around
I want to die
No friendly faces, in the brightest of places
And I can't make a sound
Is this life or is it just a dark hell
How is one to live without living
Lost in a sea of sound
The darkness inside me
Is seeping through my heart
and making me lose my self control
Turn the shower up higher so they don't hear me cry
It's all I can do, just living a lie
The friends I thought I had
left when I was reaching my lowest
Now as I sink below the surface
The sun is the dimmest of lights
Scratching at my sides
Not ready to go back to the blade
So long gone, I've reached the breaking point
but I'm afraid to let go
Copyright © Cassidy Metcalf | Year Posted 2014
Where did we go wrong?
What didn’t we do right?
To be victims of your torture
From a woman we were born
Our body, has bones not gold
What we have is not fuel, but a river of blood
Our homes we have now deserted
In caves we now hid
Hiding from a fellow human being
Why oh why
Tears are washing away our happiness
You have soaked our hearts in sorrow
So early you have sent our relative to grave
What offense did we commit?
That you no longer see us as important citizens
But charm to feed your pockets
Why have u buried your warm hearts
Why have you underrated our lives?
That you now exchange it with money?
Crying out loud!!!!!!!!
Tears of an albino
God have mercy on albinos
Copyright © Kuleza John Lembi | Year Posted 2016
Even after sixteen years
still I cry your daughters tears
Every year on this day, will always be sad
known only as the date, God took my dad
1st June 1954- 22nd Oct 1997
Allan Thomas Holmes
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
The song starts to play and I start to cry
How can so much hurt come from a song like that?
Once upon a time it used to bring me happiness and laughs
Now all it brings me is sorrow
You were my world and the song was ours
Now you're gone leaving me with nothing but a broken heart
It isn't easy to forget about everything
That song meant so much to me and now it's all been taken away
I had a dream that the song was going to bring us together again
But now, I don't want to listen to the song anymore
The song is a constant reminder of our tragedy and it will always hurt
I've tried to forget but nothing seems to work
I'll listen to that song a million times more
Until the day we are reunited, together forever
Copyright © Vanessa Alvarez | Year Posted 2012
High-backed chair facing the corner,
Window over books so cherished
Like the greatest of scholars, but still humble
He was a trove of stories
Air of silence on a place once full
Of stories from a time past,
A time of honor and courage and duty
Of country and spirit; fighting an enemy
Made from indescribable evil.
Tales of valor, sand, and bullets
Lions and machine guns, young men in battle
Fighting for their lives.
Knowing the enemy was like a jackal
Cruel and twisted, an army of evil
He witnessed it all
First hand, in the heat of the day
And cold of night. Tales passed on, spoken
In a way that conveyed such knowledge
That one was to sit in amazement, and hear it
Firsthand from the chair facing the corner.
Like a throne of deep thought.
The day he left this world, I wept.
Seeing him not but a day before,
It was harder than I could have imagined.
The pain is real, but so were the memories
And so the legacy of the veteran lives on.
The chair sat vacant, but I felt him there.
The books on the shelf, the other treasures
Left behind held him here on earth
While the memories anchored him in our hearts.
The man in the chair shall never be forgotten
And the stories shall pass far into the generations.
Copyright © john locke | Year Posted 2012
A Farewell To The Travelers (On The Bhoja Airlines Plane Crash)
With pace does darkness conquer light,
when mounts the sun the dying toll,
spied an aura grim my wistful sight,
for had poisoned all, a single bowl;
captive of death as it life betrayed,
the awakened --to the resting prayed,
"Oh! Farewell the mornings vanished pole".
Life comes with such a temporal mien,
has it plucked the wings of future how,
though pillows of respite --I had seen,
but these feathers do no sleep allow;
do fly swift! The binders of this cause,
your pause of age, is our ageless pause--
"So, farewell the birds of heavens now".
But, soul a machine that does not cease,
yet it fools us from our time of birth;
pass on, move towards the restful peace,
but, secluded stays its pensive worth;
Until the day, we shall meet again
at some wondrous unknown valley then.
"Ah! Farewell the travelers of this earth".
R.N.Khan, © 2012
Copyright © Raja Nosherwan | Year Posted 2012
On the Milky Way a black cloud appeared,
not dark as the night, but as a whole year
of winter nights put together and blended
with stygian thoughts of a suicidal dictator.
Then slowly the cloud began to dissipate,
became whispery as Fidel Castro´s beard.
…And there, on blue silk, a new born star,
unexciting at first but it grew stronger by
the galaxy minute- which last a bit longer
than on earth-, till it one day sparkled with
pride especially around Christmas.
The moment a new star is born an old star
lights up, like northern light, for so to fall
into perpetuity, and I shall not see my old
friend Clive Dunn again.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2012
All in one faded-black day
(but let None forget)
In my arms, her body lay
(my life was the price to pay)
A tragedy, through the lack of humanly shame
(do they know pain)
My darkly colleen has to suffer no more
(Robert nor do you)
Let me die
(please hear my haunted cries)
If I can not see Sophie tonight
(live on with my grey)
I'm just a mess of despairing words
And broken nerves
Another mourning, afflicted sight
(through decay, love can remain)
Solace, sympathy are just more lies
She is all I need
Until you decide she is just another sadist's toy
My Angel, why did you have to fly so far away
My Angel, just let one feather stay
My Angel has flown away
My Angel, why did you have to fly so far away
My Angel, just let one feather stay
My Angel has flown away
(My body is amortal, die I may,
Together, our hearts will forever stay)
Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012
Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2013
On Sunday March thirty two thousand fourteen, my sister
lost her grim battle to cancer, she was much younger than I;
nobody would believe that she fervently prayed while waiting to die...
who gave such strength to endure pain, if not her faith of believer?
I stood by her touching her forehead to offer some consolation...
she tried to smile, but was overcome by pangs of desperation.
If horrid fate had cut abruptly her life, prayers provided endless comfort;
and accepting death as a relief from suffering, she cherished that thought!
Farewell, Catherine...even the March gloomy sky cries
to express its ample sympathy for someone with moribund eyes!
A treasure you have left: gems that gleam as the eternal stars,
and each one of them reflects the gentle smile of your shining grace
that everyone saw when you opened those warm arms...
and by loving everyone, you taught us the meaning of an embrace!
Farewell, Catherine...find joy in that celestial place above the earth's sphere,
there happiness is heard through songs that praise glorious love, not fear!
We'll remember those delightful moments you shared with us...
when joy shone on a face that did not know the bitterness
of tears! Yes, they are imprinted on these weeping hearts
as the words of Virgil who commemorated the brave souls
that accomplished great things never forgotten by fleeing time...
isn't your story of indomitable courage for us to read and admire?
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2014
My heart egos and my life drained from me
Simple life I live, I act as I know all
But I know not, no, not even a little
I earnestly seek for recognitions
But my life and my heart is a hole.
An empty vessel, soulless, loveless
I have been succumb by the pain of heart aches
I have become a broken man,
Know not what my future holds
I envy those who went before me, who were acknowledge
I hold on to the little shred of hope in me,
I am being drowned by my own sorrows.
Love, hate, a new beginning and ending of my old self never seems to happen
My wrath against my enemies is nothing for they humor me with insults.
Let not death come to me in misery and despair,
For life is full of joy and full of sorrows.
Love me, as who would love a stranger from nowhere.
Let my sorrows be taken away by the love of many
But at last, no one would.
Don’t cry for me, for no one knows me
They came before my grave and said “who is this man?”
“Why is the name not written?”
It is not written because I am nothing
Don’t shed a tear for the stranger such as me.
Life is like a dream on a calm sea,
As the captain gracefully steer and gently moves its rudder.
The passenger puts their lives in his hands,
A calm sea is the heaven of any sailor.
“So, where is my captain?”
The wind blows every so gently,
But my heart sinks gently into the sea;
Who will mourn for the stranger?
Drowned from my grief,
My faith begins to waver like a ship tossed around by the winnowing wind
My heaven, my calm sea turns against me as I sail the Galilean sea
“Where are thy words that calm the raging storm?”
Ay! I have no peace even in my passing.
I have not thy words of command,
For my faith has been tossed away by the hating winds,
Shallow, empty, and broken I lay here in an unnamed grave.
Only thy mercy will guide me to the third heaven!
Let my sorrows be washed away by the blood of the innocent lamp.
Let thy words be the honey drops for mine,
As this world knows only lies
Blinded by greed and lust,
They seek only to destroy of what they fear.
And my sorrows are tossed away by thy promises.
For thy compassion for lost sheep is great.
"Have I found peace?"
I have, for I know my heart is at rest when my body has aged
And my salvation has come
When I died with thy Words of truth
Copyright © LIde Sangtam | Year Posted 2012
TO A FORGOTTEN SUICIDE NOTE...
On the gallows o time my soul
Hung in despair.
Faith released its terrible swift sword;
Least my thoughts forgot.
Least my thoughts forgot the footprints
To be free of the mystified feelings locked
In catacombs of dreams
Stroking spiraling smoke to blurred visions
Gone stale like yesterday's day.
Time passes and grief remains dissatisfied.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015
I remember when I was told.
Family in silence.
It’s not fair. The heartbeat of appliances still whining,
I focus on times I thought we’d grow old...
Clouds part with unexplained violence
And our faces begin to pour.
A hundred questions, a doubt
And what else? Footprint in a concrete driveway,
A spark-maker unlit watching seagulls soar
From the soft earth, noise drowned out.
A boy sleeps waiting to wake
To manhood. Creased cheeks quiver,
And what he gets instead are flowers.
Relics in person, I question the ache
That asks why we give rivers
And must move on, while they remain.
Held by the smooth arms of trees,
Swallowed by a blanket of grass.
I ask the plaque what I cannot my brain,
Logic replaced by glassy guarantees
I see right through. He will not rise.
Facing away from a marching sun,
A no longer marching son lies.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2012
hail, someone, death is hell
he was well so well
soothing like waters from the well
& the world did him hail
tho' sad but not so sad like hell
ah, death-harbinger as on a rail
crept in but who could tell
which way she came oh, tell
as some practiced steps did fell
& the voice from deep-set hell
trembling rose like the bliss of hail.
Copyright © Canny Amah | Year Posted 2012
You flourished and blurred
like a spark on wind
Gracefully and quickly like a frightened hind
in pursuit of light
You harvested through bushy meadows
taken by blight
In struggle with plight
had you lost your might
And gave out
although never you gave up.
Where are you?
For you must be still there.
For I still can feel you
somewhere in the air.
Copyright © Lukasz Walterowicz | Year Posted 2012
Sticks and stones, may break my bones,
but some words are like mountains that can swallow you in its depth,
overtake you in its splendor -
I've known caverns there that will wrap you in its arms
happy to take the brunt of a storm made of angry remarks.
Some may counter and say, "A stake can stab you in the heart,"
but your words came like a monsoon
leaving gashes in my umbrella
(what was left blew away in the winds of your indifference)
You say you're a gift wrapped in pretty pink paper
yet belittle those unfortunate enough
to crawl in the shade of your inflated presence
(laughter to fill a cathedral,
too loud to hear the sound
of a silent tear)
Sticks and stones - so they say -
but some only dream of decay
because the comments you made
deprived them of their essence.
Why are you even Here?
If not to raise people up;
instead all you do is sneer
and leave everyone feeling crippled
with the weight of a flippant syllable.
Cain may have killed his brother with a jagged rock,
but some are still bleeding scarlet threads
left hopelessly entangled,
because all you do is talk
... and talk
... and talk
(all consideration be damned,
etiquette you pissed on)
Is stick and stones, gonna be your swan song?
Like a mantra with no end,
please, say it once again,
as you tell it the wind -
the only witness that remembers
those who leaped in late December:
believing they could fly,
believing they'd have release,
but instead all they found ...
... was the concrete.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016