I first met Autumn when I was very, very young,
she was just a shy, quiet girl, but so very bright.
These maple trees were our favorite to play among,
as our laughter faded away with the falling sunlight.
I can still see her brown sweater, and reddish-orange hair,
blowing around her smiling face, like a flickering flame.
Her innocent voice still whispers on October's cool air,
near the place, where our lonely swing remains the same.
As the summer days said goodbye, and welcomed September,
the death of my dear, young friend came all too soon.
Autumn was one of those whom you'd always remember,
her soul was as beautiful as the shining, harvest moon.
She was here, then gone, leaving words that were never spoke,
to this day, I have never understood why Autumn had to leave.
Her presence lingers on the wind, like drifting wood-smoke,
as once a year, her playful spirit arises on All Hallow's Eve.
August, 4th, 2014
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
To eulogize your life when we have spent so many years apart
gives me comfort and memories of your precious passed life
You speak to me in my dreams and share images of a castle by the stream
it's walls shine of elegance a beauty of luster gold for your soul it now holds
My Mother, you are now a jewel of heaven, a gem in God's crown
as his loving arms hold you and his angels wings wrap around.
I know you sit in the room of hearts and some day you will take me in your arms,
while the angels play their harps like the soft swaying sound of a violin my soul
will then depart.
As I stroll to the waters edge of sadness and my reflection is looking back
I see my mothers wonderful smile our characteristics and mannerism
you blessed me as a child.
Tonight I will sleep and you will whisper in my ear all the stories
from the day that I was born, taking away my sadness and
giving me comfort to help me not to mourn.
So on Christmas morn when I awake from my dream that we shared
I will not see the lights from my Christmas tree
only the glow from the angel who has given me a life and a soul that is free.
T Reams 12/3/15 I miss you Mom
Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015
Do pray with me my dying moth
for we are not forgiven yet,
till we don't shed the silken cloth
and both our wings to fire set.
Do pray for me while you are there,
inside your grief our holy land,
how can I for redemption care!
While my own touch the sinking sand.
Still pray, for life is short and ill,
can't empty minds the gardens find,
I might not my transgressions kill,
while praise the earth that burns my kind.
But you are ill and cannot fly,
like a beggars eye do you bargain;
a day, a life, why do you try
and go through the forsaken pain.
If pray you must, do pray for me,
have yet to earn my deepest sin,
though a creature wise you cannot see
a moment through the human skin.
Please pray, as once had for life prayed
in the calmest of your timeless age,
we paint our stay with our own shade
and in this blank find all the rage.
Pray with those burnt out wings so pure,
and ask for me the holy balm,
that does to men the sense restore,
but to this man the senseless calm.
Do pray as I will die one day,
until that day I cannot live,
just dream that you may live to pray,
and to my moth a purpose give.
R.N Khan 2014
Copyright © Raja Nosherwan | Year Posted 2014
Illness we anticipate, but death we fear.
If dead, we cease to be.....
in total disbelief.
Swallows up life's brief existence.
Like summer gusts, so sudden.....
birth, then doom.
One's beginning and end alone doth it declare.
But are we whole of being?
If the breath alone be 'life' itself,
If even a soul like Vasco can know death.
Oh man! Thou body wasteless.
With it's strange purposes and dreaded activities...
whilst he gazed on eternity.
Retreating slowly, with meditative pauses, he formed with peaceful hands unconsciously.....
and then, he was gone.
These costless expressions of my shadowy self.
Be sad! Be glad! Be neither!
There is no reason why!
Copyright © Carlene Simpson | Year Posted 2016
My tinnitus was off the scale
The day before you passed away
I’d wanted, needed much to cry
And having many reasons why
A pregnant woman stoned to death
You fought for freedom, took your rest
Cain was marked for murdering Abel
Where laws don’t protect, is love enabled?
A little still bereft you’re gone
Having never hung my arms around
The head that inspired many to rise
Above assaults, above hate crimes
Your words encouraged folks to choose
To wonder, teach, transcend the blues
In language rich and movement tuned
To grow in spirit great as you
Copyright © Patricia L Graham | Year Posted 2014
What is life???
Life is a journey
Life is a puzzle
Only the correct pieces to be connected
Connected to complete puzzle
Pieces which differ from size & shape
They made from different moments
Even if they fit but does not...
A human life.
It has to be the right format.
Life that depends in all seasons
Life is not completed with Rands or Dollas
Only those who has the strength to
Hang on will survive.
Life is a picture without a painter
Its a subject of tolerance.
Life is a gift from the Creator
Life is a Journey without a master
It is full of surprises and challenges
Consist of Great and Happy moments
Life is never good
Life is never smooth
Life is a storm just learn how to dance on it
It consist of rain,sun and cold weather
LIFE IS PRECIOUS...
Copyright © Benedict Msawenkosi Khubeka | Year Posted 2016
A giant pine, magnificent and old
Stood staunch against a sky of gold,
Shed beauty, grace and selfless power,
There was no tree that over-towered
Within its fold birds safely reared young,
Between its leaves, round fruits had hung.
The velvet ground beneath was gentle,
The cooling shade was instrumental.
It's towering arms a landmark stood, erect and unafraid,
As if to say, “Fear naught from harm”- as if to offer aid.
It fell one day.
Where it had dauntless stood, was loneliness and dead.
But men who passed paid tribute – and most of all had said,
“To know this life was good;
It left it’s mark on me.”
Its work still lasts,
And so it lives.
Such life no bonds can hold
This giant pine, magnificent and old.
This work is based upon inspiration of 'To My Father', to which a rhyme scheme was established, and a story development was created.
Copyright © Kurtis Collins | Year Posted 2016