Mossy vines served as camouflage for a decaying headstone
This was the first time I’d laid eyes on your final resting place
In front of me stood a grey granite slab covered in emerald moss
Green ivy clung to the stone and snaked round the nearby yew tree
It was evident your grave had not been visited for many many years
In fact, until ten days ago I didn’t know you existed …
A family secret kept hidden from me by my elderly ‘mother’
It wasn’t until her recent death I discovered the real truth
At the will reading the lawyer presented me with an envelope
Spidery handwriting revealed that my real mother died in childbirth
I discovered that I’d been adopted; my real name was Sara James
Seeing my original birth certificate for the first time was a huge shock
Now I know the reason I felt that I never belonged
With my raven hair and pale skin I looked very different from my sister Beth
I’d been told I looked like my great aunt and I’d never queried this
Now I stand in front of the plot where my real mother is buried
I spend an hour weeding, tidying and cleaning the gravestone
Rivers of tears run down my face when I finally reveal the inscription
Carved in the decaying stone I read
Ellen James - died 17th April 1953 aged 33
Fell asleep with her tiny angel
Susan James - died 17th April 1953 born sleeping
Family secrets kept hidden in the graveyard
Sobbing bitter tears I kneel down and leave a red rose
For my mother and my twin sister that until today I never knew existed
Fictional write for Camouflage me a Poem Contest Sponsored by Broken Wings
Theme 1 chosen - Mossy vines served as camouflage for a decaying headstone
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
My father’s funeral, a sad occasion
but his cruel actions go beyond the grave
My sister had organised a display
A silver frame contained a picture of his smiling face
Many other smaller photographs were scattered on the table
One picture in particular caught my eye
I’d never seen this photograph before …
One stone of cold chiselled grey granite
Three generations of names embellished with gold letters
a permanent family memorial…
But MY name was missing
One of the mourners asked me why my name wasn’t there
It is a question I still don’t have an answer for
Two years have passed since he died …
I am still yet to grieve
(This has been a very cathartic poem to write. I have since discovered that in 2007 my father organised for his name, my mother’s name and my sister’s name to be added to the family grave in Lithuania. Just the dates of death are missing… along with my name)
Two word challenge contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017
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
grave and fed on
fallen acorns. A
doe, then a second deer
haltingly drew near. One buck
hung back where grass met woods, head raised,
watching. . . like my dear brother - apart
from family, yet not too far away.
For the Ten Lines Poetry Contest of Heather Ober
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
Dedicated to my Dad who lost his short battle w/ Colon Cancer on June 18,2013
I hate you Cancer
Your vile evil and cruel
You don't care who you hurt
I'll never forget that day
I'll always hate you for it
Your heartless Cancer
You took someone important from me
Someone important from others too
Took people who didn't belong to you
I hate you for it
You disgust me Cancer
You had no right to take him from me
He mattered more than my very own life
I hate you for taking my Daddy
I hate you for taking others too
I hate you with a passion Cancer
You took part of my heart with him
You took part of my soul that day too
I hate you for it
I hate you I hate you I hate you
I hate you with every fiber of my being
Go back to Hell where you belong
I hate you, others hate you
Your not welcome or wanted here Cancer
I hate you more than his doctor's
I hate you more than God
I hope I get to witness that day
Witness the day you fall
And you will fall Cancer
You're gonna lose the battle one day Cancer
I'm gonna laugh and dance around your grave
You'll finally get what you deserve
And you'll never be able to inflict your disease on another soul
Sabrina Niday Hansel
Placed 8th in Poet Destroyer A's 2013 "PINKTOBER" Contest
Please Support a Cure for Colon Cancer & every other type!
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom.
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed a Octagon home in the 70's
Built custom by hand . I was very proud of Dad .
Alcohol hit our Family , a curse .
He left my Mom when I was 14 in Illinois.
To renew in California , leaving a trail of tears .
Meeting my step mom , my sisters age .
My 2 sisters they were accepted in her world .
Not I , I looked too much Like Mom . Told this all my Life .
She a petite Beauty , RN , real estate Broker .
I did not see why it was wrong to be like mom ?
I moved in with Dad, His new Wife , and 2 sisters
eventually . All three women were competing for my Father .
I was kicked out at 16 yrs.
Years do pass , you try and accept people places and things .
At the end of Dads life , he was calling me once a week .
I ordered a Engraved Clock for the Fathers day coming.
This was a issue for the Wife and sisters , never invited to his new home , 2 Decades ~My little Brother & I , never wanted .
Dad passed suddenly one sad Spring Day . Not one word from his wife , all 3rd party, how and when, Dad Died . being denied the right to his address , even to say goodbye .
Not being able to send my engraved clock .
"Dad Passed " received call from sister whom just stayed a week with me , I took her all around the sites here . "1st day I get call , you should come , 2nd Day after , Dad's been cremated already . " It was a lie.
I went anyway , finding the funeral home, the Funeral Director was appalled at the denial displayed.
He insisted I was given 10 minutes alone with Dad , my Birthright to say Goodbye , he was in dismay over the Hostility towards a daughter ~
I get to this room of mean relative's. His sisters , Mine, angry looks , hearing from a Aunt "What is she doing Here ! " I can't give nor reason or rhyme.
Shame to you and all that participated that wicked day.
Are you Glorified with Power? Denied the right to grieve ,
Left with no sane answers to give in hatred received by Blood . Some , just Spouses , telling me I had no right to Say Goodbye to my own Father , My DAD .
My Dad wanted me there , I know he did . I love Him and will never forget , his youngest girl whom looked like Mom . I know in my heart and dreams he speaks.
We all see when we leave . May God not allow any Son or Daughter to go through such Evil.
Thank-you Poetry Soup for returning my voice .
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
I wish to leave a legacy,
A memory of me
I wish to leave a legacy,
Something my mother left for me
Death took my mother when I was three
So all she left was what she taught me
So as I sit and sew, I see
My mother looking down on me
Her hands guide my fingers as I make
A cradle for my daughter to take
For all the children that follow in her wake
Will rest in peace and sleep till daybreak
Surrounded by love for “oma’s” sake
For each child anew a small remake
Will forever preserve this family keepsake
And I will be there forever to partake
As each new child lies cradled here
All the ancestors will be near
To bestow their love and guidance clear
On the newborn and his parents dear
While we support there is no fear
Because the child will always hear
The sounds of love sincere
And know his family is near
Copyright © Huberta van Akkeren | Year Posted 2014
Open your eyes to the ever turning skies
I want to here with me through the night
My heart yearns into your soul
Burning as if newly lit coal
I bravely submerg the embers
That the time I have can be spent with you
And I remember each kiss every moment
I was caught in your love that for just this day I remember
So what happened was a chance for your love
A time that I kept in a locket tied with a kiss
I wanted you to feel, to love, to slumber
And to awake in my arms with that times kept bliss
I lay silient in an umber
Copyright © Courtney Courtney | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
In the attic, above wooden floor,
through the hallway of psychotic, locks upon my door,
near the broken window and glass of the sore,
hiding in the shadows,
bloodstains on the wall.
house at the end of the street,
where lights are low,
where silent never sleep.
Copyright © Miche Ulman | Year Posted 2013
This is about a man whose name is Jesse
Born In Kansas and raised in Missouri
Was called to fight for his beloved country
And assigned to defend an outlying territory
Jesse fought as hard as any American would
For freedom and democracy he did everything he could
For Uncle Sam, even in danger steadfast he stood
Believing in his heart that everything will turn out good
He was with the Death March in Bataan
But he was helped to escape by his special someone
Josie was the name of this special woman
Who walked along with the March since it began
It was in the territory that he met Josie
A woman whose dad was from Cincinnati
The two fell in love cause they had chemistry
They had their first child in nineteen forty three
In forty four he was again captured by the Japanese
He was already sick cause he caught a disease
Was taken to a prison camp and placed under lock and keys
In the end the harsh conditions led to his demise
Josie tried to look for his grave but failed
She couldn't do anything and in sadness she wailed
There were reports that he died in the hell ship as it sailed
But to get proof to the true cause of his death we have failed
Jesse died in January of nineteen forty five
Stories about him that Josie told kept him alive
In the heart of his descendants his memories survive
Love for him in their hearts continues to thrive
But every time I go to bed and close my eyes
I see his face and think of the truth that I despise
My whole body stiffens and I get as cold as ice
Sadly thinking that still, in an unknown grave he lies
(For my grandfather US Army 2nd Lt. Jesse C. Boak of the 33rd Infantry
Regiment, who was declared MIA in WWII. His body was never found and true
cause of his death was never known.His name is listed in the Tablets of the
Missing at the Manila American Cemetery and on a Memorial Monument at the
State of Missouri
Grandpa even though I never got the chance to really know you I will always be
proud of you-JEB)
JESSE C. BOAK
2nd Lt. US Army
Awards: Silver Star, Bronze Star, Purple Heart with 2 Oak Leaf Clusters
Copyright © John Boak | Year Posted 2006
Read the Bible and the words that are said.
Times of trouble and tribulation are ahead!
All one has to do is read the book of revelation.
To read about this world and this nation!
Days of wickedness and evil that abounds..
Shall very soon. Come
“crashing to the ground!”
For our sin, there’s a price that has been paid!
Many have become sin’s servant and slave!
Many will not escape God’s judgment and wrath!
They’ve chosen the wrong direction and path!
Right now... There’s a path
and a way to “escape!”
Please do it right now! Before it’s too late!
The right path to take, is through Christ alone!
He must be the lord of your heart and home!
Jesus alone, can bring hope to your soul!
He’ll never leave you!
Is what he wants you to know!
Times of trouble and uncertainty
are well on their way!
Christ can help you to overcome!
He can do it TODAY!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
Hi. If you are reading this letter, then i know my wife has chosen you. This is to serve as my last writing directed to you after my death. Please note she has never read this letter. I would like to welcome you and thank you for choosing her over all the beautiful women in the world. I hardly know you but I'm willing to trust and respect your presence in her life and that you'll bring nothing but joy. Strongly i hope you feel exactly the same as she does, after all she chose to give you this letter. No one can replace our love, but that does not mean you should build a bridge between my past life with her. Do not attempt reshuffling her heart, empathy, sensitivity or replacing what i planted in her heart. Our tree of love will continue growing. Please take good care of her heart as it’s not billable.
Her tears of joy are always ready to explode. Every night has been a page in our love book. So please do not change the theme as you will be forced to adjust the ending. I so much wanted to continue writing our book but i had to off ramp my journey with her as the cancer was forcefully blocking my way. She doesn't know that. My fingerprints on her smiles never got damaged and the footsteps i wrote on her body never sounded fictional. If you look at the corner of her lips she owns no dark secrets. She gets rewarded for every risk she puts her family in. Her wheelchair has never had a flat tire, but if it does please contact bible services on psalm they fix everything.
What i noticed is that she loved checking up the Christianity call centres within the bible phone book. The numbers will never change, only agents do so keep encouraging her to make calls. She used to randomly open the book and choose a page with her eyes closed. Even though she sometimes looked lost she always found the right pages. I hope it’s not too much to ask, but please allow her to visit on our birthday and that's every three days before the New Year. That is the only time i could turn to the other side on my grave. Plus the funeral cover promised us non of its pillows in my coffin. Do not make yes an answer to every call made by my parents. We owe them nothing, infect i haven’t spoken to them in ten years.
With all that said she will blow your mind if you let her.
Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013
CIL MAOLCHEADAIR (Kilmalkedar)
On such an Irish spring and drizzle morn,
she wandered through the graveyard, looking for
the Celtic dream from which her past was born,
and every sight brought her to wanting more;
she dreamt her roots from carvings on a stone
as if she understood each chip as real,
passed down to only her, and her alone,
from pagan worship she could almost feel;
and she could bundle them within her mind
to share with Pennsylvania kith and kin,
perhaps the magic, if still there to find,
would be an understanding where they've been;
and she will burn her candles every night,
hoping Kilmalkedar will make it right.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016
We buried her in a hole in the ground.
It was her final, resting place—poor Mom!
Shaken, I wept but my siblings were calm.
Only I appeared distraught and unsound,
overwhelmed at the sudden loss I found
too great to bear. It was like a huge bomb
had exploded in our lives—like napalm!
There I sat. My grieving tears were profound.
It had been an upsetting funeral.
We buried her on a cold, wintry morn—
all there knew their places on arrival.
Among them I wept, so tearful and torn
during the service and the burial.
In the end, I felt so dead and stillborn.
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2014
Another rainy Memorial weekend,
there’s no promise of the sun.
I’m sorry for the folks who’d planned
a little camping fun.
But my task will go forward
with umbrella and raincoat.
I’ll get those graves all covered,
if I have to use a boat.
The first one was for my daddy,
back in nineteen fifty three.
I could not know how many more
family graves I’d live to see.
The next one’s for my young husband.
It was dug in sixty two.
In seventy five my darling mother
died and her grave was brand-new.
Tears for a granddaughter in seventy nine
and for a nephew that year too.
In the year of nineteen eighty
my brother followed those two.
Then we had a short hiatus.
It was not ‘til ninety-four
that another brother was laid there.
Then we counted one grave more.
The next year we gathered once again,
when my second husband died.
He missed the sorrow of ninety-seven,
when it was for his son we cried.
Two more years in nineteen ninety nine
my own son was laid to rest..
“If God is trying me”, I thought,
“I fear I’ll fail this test.”
Then He had pity on us
and it was a full decade
before another grave and in it
my great grandson was laid.
Two brothers lie in other grave-yards,
and their stones I do not see.
I’ve been going to this cemetery
each Memorial week since fifty-three.
There are many friends and in-laws
that I must also remember.
I go the rounds with flowers in May
and with wreaths in cold December.
This poem covers five generations
of at least one family member
who has gone on ahead of us
and we bring flowers to remember.
By: Joyce 5/28/ 11
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
Are Ancestors Endured
So deep in the forest, where it's always dark
Through the gnarled trees, fallen, crooked and mossy
An old, abandoned and neglected graveyard lies
The headstones are tilted, cracked, and broken
There are five stones that go from large to small
The weathered inscriptions hard to make out
Show simply a first name, month and year
William, Anna, Albert, Nellie and Rose
February, March, April, May, and July 1812
They were the forgotten ones,
I grieved for them despite not knowing who they were
My curiosity grew, until I had to know
Through long hours of research, I now knew their story
Tuberculosis took their lives, but what left me pained
Is that the were a family of six, and the youngest child was not there
Elizabeth would have been seven years old
Left alone as her family died one by one
The hardships our ancestors endured were profound
Overgrown With Vines
September 22, 2016
Copyright © Tanis Troutman | Year Posted 2016
From the moment I was born I wept. I cried out of wanting, After all to want is the first natural humane instinct. As I got older I walked through life holding open my heart to experiences even if unwillingly. My eyes remained wide as my legs carried me through twisting generations.
I have laughed gaily without judgment, grieved earth shattering loss, embraced joy beyond what the motion pictures portray and loved and been loved more than any fictional character that its writer breathed life onto paper.
From cradle to my destined grave I stroll on earths vast plain of emotion to take hold of life and live as if tomorrow my again body would be laid to rest.
A newborn cries because it is its horn of proof that it is thriving with vitality. An elder gently sobs under breath knowing each day they inhale is another day of dying. We are born into cradling arms and are buried cancelling ourselves, From life to death we take memories we've made from cradle to grave. Nothing is more precious, needed and wanted to either groups young r old than a life fully lived before the final chapter is read.
Birth to twelve is layered in childhood innocents. Becoming a teen is our first presumable milestone and we assume ourselves to be made of granite like Galatea.
Throughout our twenties our lips taste first loves even lust but gracefully as we age our minds and souls carry us home making a place to rest out weary bodies, a place to rest with growing families. Children come wrapped in beautiful ribbons and we grow old. Wrinkles come, inevitably dependency goes then we parish to our coffins made by younger, sometimes older hands.
But even after we rest under feet of blackened tear filled soil we live, To be born again or to be swept away by Gods gentle voice no one person can say.
But we live and breath, inhale life though our lungs from cradle to the grave.
"Sorry for not capitalizing, hope that fixed it! Please keep commenting :) Much love, Whit."
Copyright © Whitney Hart | Year Posted 2012
(Part 3 of Trilogy for My Father)
I took my children to the cemetery, a rare visit,
But they did not understand
---could not understand---
of lives and dreams turned to dust,
of a childhood lying buried in those graves.
Or is it the childhood I wished for those many years?
"Where's Anddad?" my daughter asked.
"There, beneath that stone. His ashes," I said.
Ashes of a relationship as cold as this frosted grass.
"Anddad all burned up!" chortles my youngest.
"And here is Grandma," I tell him, but it's just a word.
"See the rose on the plaque? She loved roses."
I remember when the dog peed on her prized
yellows until they died. Until she cried.
I thought her tears silly at the time but not now.
"Grandma would have loved you," I inform my
Loved you like she never loved me.
I reach for the vase set in the grave marker,
but time has rusted it in place.
There will be no flowers today.
Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015
Sun hindered sultry earth, wet mound of mossy growth,
Cast to my grave way too early, untold secrets held by oath.
My cross bearing name, years untold, vines they wind,
Loved ones, lost souls crying, constrained, I’ve left behind.
Placed six feet under, to reside, by wronged eternal shame,
Respect shallowly given, bare tombstone, initialed name.
Unkempt, desolate, outskirts, socially banished bed I lay,
Once disclosed, a man’s untold secret, during night times fallen day.
Provoking sudden panic, with “vulgar lies” by fortunes truth,
“Prove it” flame torches burned, sovereign citizens, absent ruth.
Those ideas came and went, a mistake, to share such knowledge,
A frightened small town life, unjust powers screamed abolish.
Unleashed a fears throne devil, tied up “witch”, my smoke stack burned,
Inherited genes my sisters gathered, a unions threat, conversed they learned.
A gift of genuine beauty, I’ve stood behind these sorcerers lives,
Through times suspicious husbands, to life’s ‘all knowing’ cautious wives.
For my sisters they kept quiet, by sustained years, their families grew,
Long lived our families secret, a blood lined “witch”, for all she knew.
Overgrown vines for years have passed, Salem nights as they have changed,
Life’s seasons, predicted secrets, no longer provoked by fears deranged.
For these vines is all that’s held me, natures embrace casted shadow,
Death speaks, my lingered voice, unspoken truth will not forego.
Not ruled by judgements nature, for in me their roots have grown.
Unseen, my weathered head stone, dressed in vines, I’m not alone,
A child’s future, my leaves unraveled, jaded visions to them I give,
My torture speaks, a hidden tombstone, the Salem witch in you, I live.
Over grown with Vines- Poetry Contest
Copyright © Chelcie Darling | Year Posted 2016
A tombstone stands amongst the rest
Neglected and alone
The name and date chiseled out
On polished marbled stone
It reaches our for someone to care
Is it too late to mourn
I did not know that you existed
You died before I was born
Our blood it connects us
Though we have never met
You are my long lost ancestor
Part of my genetic make up
The spot you filled many years ago
Now residing are the ones who live through you
We are all part of your story
A place etched in history
You will always be remembered and cherished
Because you are a great big part of me
Like branches of a mighty oak
They stretch out in many directions
But the only way they all connect
Is at the root, the heart of the tree
Copyright © Lisa Brannon | Year Posted 2016
by~ Jun-jun Villanueva
Urbane cavalcade - flaunt in gaiety
Warbling hymns in ego - cyclicity
Jigging gracile moves in vivacity
Relishing in zest in this gravity
Kinsfolk in flamboyant fete - oh its fate?
Smiles, elation in face delineate
Like nothing's wrong makes me exasperate
No one cares? No one adores? it's too late
Recurrent nightmares peeve me in sublime
Making incubuses remorse in rhyme
Bequeathing qualm, fright and fear - death like crime
Kith and kin in laughs while I'm in grave time...
by~ Poet Destroyer
Twittering chime parade of glee
Unspectacular weed flowing trough me.
Boxed in a box like a tick or flea.
No one understands- what they can't see!
Outside myself holding my breath-
Or should I say what is left?
Trapping torment with false courtesy.
Preexisted past, without certainty.
Locked in a sanctuary grave of ivory ribs,
My life in a vault- trashed crib.
Feet lashing against my skin.
Twirling the rootless valves of sin.
No one cares! No one adores!
My prison trash coffin brought ashore.
~~~~~an entry for " POET DESTROYER's MY COLLABORATION CONTEST"
Copyright © jun-jun villanueva | Year Posted 2011
An army in green
ever vigilant, ever
silent, ever still.
Their honor ever
falter, they never
They've fought their
served how and when
they were needed.
They've earned their
reprieve from the
but their post,
after all this time,
they still haven't
Stones, shaped to
stand and dressed in
mark where they lie,
mute through the
though, for there
are those who
when called on by
one such in need,
Carrying on their
legacy, are those
who continue to add
to their venerated
Some call them
soldiers, some fools
and some heroes;
some see the endless
marble formation and
Down the somber rows
family, or simply to
respect those who
Regardless of race,
ever onward, kin
they are; ever
together they stand
Never forget why
they're in those
green fields; the
the kin they left
behind, to grieve
Regret young and old
gone too soon,
innocence and family
but don't begrudge
their sacrifice -
with our lives burns
their eternal ember.
Copyright © Andy Sprouse | Year Posted 2014
A terrifying ordeal,
Not only is my mentor gone,
My lovely Rosie,
No longer does this grandmother’s;
Tears have flooded my evenings,
Heartache captures my soul,
Day by day,
Left at the proper sight,
Whilst time of daylight,
Quells the pain within,
My medium moves me,
To succeed and move on,
Achieve all that my Nonny,
Would have desired me to,
So I push onward toward my dreams,
I no longer feel the need to scream.
Copyright © Melissa Ross | Year Posted 2010
Brittle bones crackle through the hall,
as I slowly trudge to an empty bed.
Outside my window dies a barren Fall,
and what survives but my Winter dread?
Slipping into the bitter-chilled covers?
shrinking beneath ‘til I’m cloaked blind.?
Despising the demons who steal our lovers?
like feckless butchers of the conscious mind.??
Death stares me in my jealous eyes,
withholds from me his seductive knife.
Does he not hear my bitter cries?
Why plague me with abandoned life??
Copyright © Jake Radford | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
A mother and father that we share
Doesn't mean you had to care
Being blood is what I thought mattered
But losing mom and dad made our family shatter
Now sister I havent talked to you in years
And brother when I came to you with tears
You turned and blamed my heartbreak on me
You wasn't near so there's no way for you to see
With a list of whys you to put the blame on me
All we share now is DNA and a small hope we'll talk again some day
A day sooner than later beside a grave
Saying things we wanted to say
With tears in our eyes
We will be forced to say a final goodbye
Copyright © Tracey Pollack | Year Posted 2016
Families are close in time of need
Some times we pretend to be good and do a good deed,
When times of sorrow come in to our lives
Some how some way we all seem to survive,
Families are close in time of need
It is what we all do and not for greed,
Life is short to waste it away
Embrace it because you may not have another day,
I see loved and friends whom are now in a grave
The thing is we all pretend to be brave,
I realize when I see a head stone of one whom has passed
How close families really are when we realize we are all like precious glass,
So keep your family close
Because in the end it all will come down to a bitter sweet rose.
Written By: Unique Poetry: 2012
Copyright © Michelle Born | Year Posted 2015
I was blinded by darkness
Not knowing where I planted each footfall
I had a body I had a heart
I had a mind and most of all a soul
I thought I was alive with happiness and joy
Alive with peace in my soul
But I was wrong dead wrong
I was all but dead to the world
It was Death that captured and trapped me
In a grave not letting go of me
In the end not knowing it was little ol’ me
Trying to breathe trying to fight my way out
Thinking I was almost there to the top but not even moving
I thought I was justified by my negativity and actions
Not knowing it was trapping me further down
Displaying the ignorance of my ways without caring for the ones I loved
The pain of it that was caused went noticed
Everyone telling me but not realizing it until now
Letting the deceit and evil willingly roll off my tongue
Thinking I was always right on everything
Thinking that all I need was the trust of man
No matter how long I sat by the fire I was cold
Even when the sunlight was resting upon my skin
I was still ice cold as Death’s very own
I did not think that life would be this dead within
The darkness of the ice cold abyss of the grave yard
Picking and choosing what to do seems right but it wasn’t
Trying again and again until finally picking up the one thing
That I thought would not help me in the long run
Thinking that I had all the love in the world
Knowing that nothing can bring me down was one
Of the biggest lies I made myself believe for so long
Thinking I had fait and love in my life but I was wrong
And in the end all there is was nothing but darkness
Deceit and evil rolling off the tongues of you so called
People walking blindly through the shadows
Of the ever present grasp of Deaths darkest abyss
Of all the wickedness that has been committed in my life
Why now has the Mighty Father and Mother given me a second chance
Why have they forgiven me of my sins without a second thought
Have I really forgiven myself so the Father the Mother and the Divine
To enter my body my mind my heart and my soul
Has the Lord and the Lady really seen that I have been trying to
Change and to become an adult woman mentally so my
Husband can rely on me in the time of need like now
I thought I was ready to begin a life with kids
Until I realized that I am still one myself
How will the Lord and Lady tell me when I am ready to have
The family I want with my husband who is my soulmate
All I can do is wait ever so patiently for the moment
The Lord and Lady will tell me when I am ready
Inside that dark grave a white light came to me
With a hand to pull me out of my hole I dug and saved me
From my own condemned version of hell after praying
They deliver me from my sins and the trespasses I’ve done
What are people going to do when they see me
Completely changed after the long visit to LCJ
God and Goddess thank you for saving my when I thought
There was no way for me to be saved and unworthy of it
Again thank you for everything I currently have
In my life my wonderful loving husband that only
Sees the potential in me all the time and the love he
Gives so unconditionally to me even when I
Do wrong in his eyes or the law’s eyes please
Show him the same lovingkindness and forgiveness you
Have so heavily laid on me to realize and forgive
Myself and those around me like I should
Have so long ago when you tried to show me the light
I have forgiven myself of the anger and hate I had
For my adopted family and now it is in the past I cannot
Change that but however I can change how the future
Goes by what I say and plan to do now today
I can look back not so long ago the darkness that
Covered my eyes then and hope the light keeps the veil away
I can see all the negative emotions that were running
And controlling me I had no idea what to do
Now I am grateful for the things I have for
The things I have come to realize on top of everything
I am the most thankful to you in my life
When I thought I did not deserve the love
And the care you have shown me
Love is for an eternity, not just a second, minute, hour or even a day.
Copyright © Amber Stratton | Year Posted 2013
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
My soul has gone and the ground will keep my body till is called upon.
From heaven above to the ground below.
You stand here with your weeping eyes wondering if my soul will live or die.
As you stand at my grave please DO NOT CRY.
Copyright © Samantha Cook | Year Posted 2012
I went to the cemetery to visit Mom and Dad.
Seeing their headstone made me feel sad.
This was the first time I've been to the cemetery since Dad died because I've been unable to drive.
Seeing their headstone choked me up because it pointed out that neither of them are still alive.
I told Mom that she was the world's greatest mother and that I love her and that I will see her again.
She and I won't be parted forever, we will be reunited at some point in the future but only God knows when.
Before I left the cemetery, I told Dad that I love him too.
I will go back to see them again and that certainly is true.
(Dedicated to Charles and Agnes Johnson who died in 2013.)
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2016
Because I have so little time,
I only hope, for what is mine--
in my blood so dark and hot
is a bright and fevered spot--
O let me be, to sing again
without the penalty of pain,
lest I, before my time, be torn
from life, and to the grave be borne--
my nostrils full of soil, my ears
stopp'd by grave and ritual tears--
O let me be, lest they will tread
--my children-- on their mother's head
before my song for them is done,
before my course on earth is run,
before they learn the song I sing:
that love can conquer
this poem is written in the shape of a funereal urn
Copyright © Judyth Vary Baker | Year Posted 2009