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)
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Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017
I do not know?
Installed in cargo pockets,
A vivid-glass, a little green bag,
A pod, silverplatted case,
Which Guca-hides, Pallmalls, and a bic.
You're barfoot in tombstones.
You're father, son vulture slumped,
You befor etched letters on rock.
"Him", a glutton of Karma,
Rein ended, your fourteenth year,
Now, belly-heavy, smoking his brand.
On a Drive-by, visit home.
You're showing Gene shooter,
You're an arsenic lane of skin,
You tremble-digits, in belt loops.
A trailer in time,
Secluded woods, with pine scent,
Anger stranded from earshot,
Hand-fead, his hate's red attic.
Father giant, yelling lasting filth,
Son flesh impersonal,
Dark-spotted, and tie-dyed,
From Basketball champ fists.
You retreated-rightly to martyr mirth,
You still look for his bold heading,
Still Questing for embrace.
Pulling tube and ziplock from Cargo,
Following in bone-bared footsteps,
You spark, away walking,
Keeping his Armageddon.
Copyright © Johnathon Souders | Year Posted 2009
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
(Part 1 of Trilogy for My Father)
His shoes by the front door make me cry,
like his glasses resting atop an
and his toothbrush in its holder
the bristles still damp.
And I wonder...
Did he brush his teeth before he
put the gun to his heart?
A cereal bowl waits in the sink;
The laundry basket overflows.
"To Do" lists adorn the refrigerator.
Suicide is not on the list, and I am
He was a tidy person, neat
organized almost to the point of obsession.
That's how he lived; that's how he died.
I'd have felt better if, for once in your life
you'd left a mess. But no
even in the ultimate act of selfishness,
you strove to be polite, choosing to lie
on the shower's cold tiles, no doubt
thinking we could just flush the blood away
with the turn of a faucet.
Yes, the place is spotless.
A tiny trace of blood, a single gouged tile
are the only signs that a life ended here.
It seems, somehow, that there should be more.
ASTROTURF AND SNOW
(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
THERE WILL BE NO FLOWERS TODAY
(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
Here lies too great gentlemen, father and son.
Named after Edgar Alan Poe, so great a man was he.
But now, alas! They are now where Poe is,
There spirits having returned to God until that Glorious Day.
Copyright © Rainbow Promise | Year Posted 2015
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
sun shines bleak, cold winds whip
death's sting floods her tender eyes
daddy is laid to rest
Copyright © JoanMarie Peranteau | Year Posted 2014
Tried to trace this man,
studied the case and had my plan,
a soul is whispering from somewhere
asking for help, I said, back off !!!
But a call is a call
it searches my soul and being,
then found myself doing it
i must say, back off to this man!
Met him and succeeded
invited me to his place, we proceeded,
as I enter his great place
full of goons, must I back off from it?
He offered a drink as he mixed,
he went for a while to change his shirt,
so when he came back and drink his piece,
Alas! 10minutes, he went off asleep!
Traced the walls for possible passage,
and I have found where she was a savage
I hurriedly searched for the lock and there I found
hanging at the back of her life size portrait in grief profound!
I ease to unlock by the key I got
and quickly lift her up, help her to get up
we walked pass by the sleeping monster
tried cautiously to escape away from there.
Damn, he is awake!
He advanced to kick
threw it hard so quick
too glad I managed
to kick back in a glimpse!
I reached my gun, hidden on my waistline,
Aimened vigorously, with authority
Stay where you are!
Back off !!!
He tied her up,
used her for his cover-up,
urging needs of flesh he had...
Damn man, back off !!!
Two years she wept for pain
asked mercy from this man but in vain,
she almost lost her mind and gave up her soul...
Spare her, back off !!!
Caught between the crossfire
of ravaging flame of bonfire heat,
Burnt her skin like hell...
Back off !!!
He tried to get up, moved forward,
I have to trigger the gun,
I said, "Come on, and you'll be gone!"
Back off !!!
And bullet is heard, ripping his left leg,
fell down to the floor, he cried and beg
"Daughter, I love you so much, don't let her do this!
help me, tell her back off please!"
I almost killed the man!
Yes, why not? I can do it!
But I controlled, called backups
I will never back off to this fight!
I saw her weep loudly, her life was a mess
Damn to this vulture who eats his own flesh!
He deserve a bullet on his head, don't you think?
Ruining his daughter's life, he must be thrown in hell!
Flesh to flesh, blood to blood
Is it easy to back off and just let this pass?
No way! How dare anyone would say:
Back off, Carole, stop and never look back!
No, no, no, no, no!
He must pay his crime, I swear he must die!
But I am not a killer,
nor a hunter but I would lie,
If I don't admit I wanted him to burn in hell and die!
Then I turned my back, let them get him
Turned him over, trembling with anger
He must be thrown into steel bars
let him pay what he has done, for years...
Steel bars, keep this man!
(dedicated to the victims of sex slavery and incest)
Copyright © Inner Whispers | Year Posted 2014
It was a dry, dusty day when I saw the wheelbarrow, with long handles made of dark wood.
The wheel is struggling as it carries its burden, but it manages the job that it should. The man pushing appears to be crying, his eyes all puffy and red. It’s time to move on, but I wait, I wait for him to reach me instead. The wheelbarrow has a dark green cover, such a sickly, metallic sweet smell underneath, such a heavy lump in my throat, “don’t lift the cover!” but regardless, I pull back it back to see.
The first thing to strike me, such a tiny hand, tiny fingers all bent into a fist, and an inch below there in my big gloved hand, the smallest most delicate wrist. Her face is held together by bright orange thread, her eyes are searching the stars. Her crown should still be there, on that beautiful head, where she lays, crumpled up inside her Dads cart. I put back the cover, swallow hard and just stand there, my head, Jesus Christ I can’t think, my pounding heart tearing itself apart inside my trained body, at this beautiful little angel in pink.
Her father, his eyes screaming toward me sobs gently, silent rage and yet deafening shock. Why can’t I bring myself to look into this man’s eyes, oh Lord, grant me some breath that I may talk. To say sorry, to ask why, to just speak in his tongue, to show him that I really care. I realise that I could never find words, I’ve no such tragedy to compare.
I walked away from the blue wheelbarrow, thinking that I could leave it behind. But every night as my daughter hugged me, that wheelbarrow crashed into my mind. Whenever she cried my stomach went tight, when she laughed those dark clouds disappeared, whenever she told me she loved me, I knew that I had nothing to fear, but yet so much. The wheelbarrow changed me forever, drank me to illness, and brought my whole life to the edge. I couldn’t switch off from that sweet smell, and I couldn’t explain that to friends.
I will never forget, such a small wrist in my hand, such beautiful soft lips kissing the sky. Such a pretty pink little dress, though stained red with blood, those clear and lifeless brown eyes. I wish that I had asked for her name, what to call that three year old victim of war, so small and so beautiful with those innocent eyes, my body aches that I can’t wish so any more.
If I could explain to people, about my demons, in one image to make them understand. I’d draw that blue wheelbarrow with the green cover on top, and that sweet delicate wrist in my hand. Two days after the wheelbarrow I became a Father and to my comfort, for the rest of my life I will know. No matter how often the wheelbarrow returns, I have my daughter, here for me to hold.
Copyright © James Clark | Year Posted 2013
Hell freezes over. Fire into ice.
Ice…but without the chill, the cold.
I try to rethink how this happened.
How a world so green, so vibrant, become hell.
And now a pale white wasteland.
Agony to relief. A relief that can’t possibly last.
Impossibilities. A dream. Numbness.
As I emerge from my shelter, built to withstand dry heat, not cool precipitation.
I wonder at the beauty of this new and strange world.
The scorching I’ve received, now soothed by the cooler air.
Miniscule crystals, floating slowly to the earth, sticking to my hair.
Like dust. Not cold.
I see others as well, marveling at this white world,
revealing themselves to be inadequately clothed for this overnight change.
I hear a child’s laughter, excited screams as she experiences the cold for the first time.
I turn to watch, a smile on my face.
There in the white, brash scarlet stains the pureness.
The girl’s excitement turns to anguish.
She clutches her head, letting out a piercing cry.
Before my eyes, she transforms.
Her arms, becoming broken and lengthy, ending in tentacles.
Her face, distorted beyond recognition.
More cries, bawling, hammering of fists.
All around me, those whom I’ve grown up with become unrecognizable.
Their skin becomes a sickly green beige, the colour of vomit.
Suddenly everything stops. Silence…
Copyright © Zach Nathan | Year Posted 2012
(from a father's point of view)
Crepuscular rays filtered through the trees:
Tall black cypresses around a dark shrine,
Evening grim bells toll as I feel the freeze,
Conscious the tomb covered with rambling vine,
While nocturnal butterflies just decline.
I could not help utter a maze of sighs,
My desolate unborn baby just lies,
Never forgotten, but always evoked
Except the woman who'll never get wise.
Cursed she'll be, an oath I never revoked.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017
A knife digs into my leg.
I look down and see my leg turning the same colour as the other’s skin.
Rotting, putrid flesh, spreading its disease up my thigh.
Pain arcs across my chest, spilling into my neck.
My hands, they’re becoming tentacles as well.
I can feel my bones shattering, slicing through my skin.
A flash of pain, and I’m on my knees.
My head is splitting from the pain. I can’t even think.
What’s my name?
Where am I?
I hear a hoarse voice in the back of my mind.
Give in. Let go. Now.
Unfortunately I don’t have a choice. My mind, it feels crowded.
Something is in my mind.
“GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!” I scream, deafening myself.
A blood red is creeping across my vision, clouding my view.
More piercing pain, I can feel my back snapping.
I topple over to my side. My body is convulsing uncontrollably.
Finally, the pain gets the best of me. I can’t take it any longer.
The pressure in my head, consuming my being.
I attempt one last bravado.
I cling to one memory.
The memory of the girl.
But soon even she is corrupted.
The voice, calling to me. Tempting me. Strangling my mind.
Then, just before I black out, I hear her voice.
Come play with the me. Join us.
The sickly sweet, echoing charm of her morphs into a deep, throaty rumble.
Join me in the grave.
I am the Gravemind.
Copyright © Zach Nathan | Year Posted 2012
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
This is a poem about child abuse so if your against it please vote and comment thanks you and hope you like it.
Oh no daddy's home!
Where should I hide?
In my closet ,no that's where he found me last time.
Under my bed,no that's where he pulled me out by my legs and hurt my head.
My name is Kelly I'm only eleven.
My daddy come home from drinkin
And gives me a beaten.
He blames me for momma leaven.
Oh no here comes graving me by the hair,I'm so scared...
Daddy please stop it hurts I yell ,but it don't help.He throws me and I hit the wall,where I fall.
Daddy I scream I'm sorry for momma leaven ,now I feel my head bleeding,but he doesn't stop.as tears tears fill my eyes I sit here and cry .
He pulls the blade out and sticks it to my neck,I try to plead for help,but can't breath as the blade cuts..so this is it as I hit the floor,closing my eyes,I see the light.well at least daddy can't hurt me no more tonight. Ill be with momma in the sky.well I guess this is good bye as daddy just killed me tonight.i should have told someone he was beating me every night,but hey God wanted me right away.So as I take my last breath I just wanted to say,tell someone before its to late and your in your grave.
Hey just wanted to say I cried writing this poem so I hope comment tell me what u think thanks and vote.
Copyright © Crystal Stewart | Year Posted 2014
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
Once a very long time was born a perfect,righteous man
He died upon a rugged cross, but yet, He rose and lived again.
Jesus died that day but in the grave He didn't really stay
From the clutches of sin and death He broke for us the chain
As the boulder from his sepulcher rolled away they said.
I am so glad to believe that Jesus came in order to save us all.
And now between our Heavenly Father and us there's no more a wall.
Because God to this earth His only Begotten Son He sent.
And Jesus in total perfection his whole life He spent.
But upon the cross He chose for us to bear our sins.
He definitely did it all for us out of Love.
He absolutely did it all just for you and me…
He died while pleading forgiveness to His Heavenly Father above.
Yes, death couldn't keep Him down as He rose again that day.
The grave was found emptied and Jesus was never seen there
And Jesus bought with his Precious blood our sins that day.
The stone just rolled away and Jesus lives in my heart everyday.
Jesus has risen!And He lives! He can wash your sins and mine.Be thankful and pray.
Jesus my king and Savior lives and always will be here for you and me.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2009
Everybody was horrified of Paul's scruffy looks
with dirt and mud smeared all over his wrinkled face,
and his long nose with dark spots on its tip;
and a grave digger matched that image,
but he was the nicest person on planet earth:
hard-working, estimable, amicable and honest.
After the day's work was done, Paul stared
at the empty lots and whispered to himself,
" Soon I'll be in one of them...I feel it coming! "
One unlucky afternoon he was standing
on the edge of a newly dug-up grave and accidently
slipped and fell into the twenty-feet excavation;
no screams for help were heard...he was dead!
That same afternoon, there was a burial
and as the corpse's coffin was lowered into the grave,
Father Michael spotted a body lying on the bottom of it,
and it resembled that of Paul....suddenly police
were notified and minutes later a fire truck arrived
to the dreary scene. Then two young firefighters
lowered themselves into the pitch-dark grave by holding
onto sturdy ropes, and without much effort,
they pulled his bruised and broken body:
he was pronounced dead at two-thirty.
Paul had a near-death experience, one of the most
incredible ones: he visited heaven, the place of bliss!
And as he climbed the gold stairway, he heard many voices
of those he knew in the previous life...they chanted glorifying God,
who was seated on an ivory throne surrounded by Archangels,
Saints and the Prophets whom he remembered from his Bible readings.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010
Paul had a near-death experience,
one of the most incredible ones...
he visited Heaven: the place of bliss!
And as he climbed the gold stairway,
he heard many familiar voices he had
known in the previous life...they happily
chanted glorifying God, who was seated
on an ivory throne surrounded by Archangels,
Saints and Prophets whom he remembered
from his Bible readings. He tried to look at
God's face, but he was blinded by an intense light...
more brilliant than the sun itself, then Jesus
approached with his out-stretched arms.
Paul smiled and was elated to have found salvation,
but Jesus kindly said to him, " Paul, your time
hasn't come yet, return to Earth and tell them! "
And briefly pausing He continued, " When that time
comes, your honorable name will be written
in the Book of Life, and angels will carry your new body
on their swift wings and you will enter Paradise! "
Paul's face was expressive of disappointment
and bitterness and weeping replied, " The people
of Earth deride a grave digger so groggy and grubby,
and they mock him with their delirious laughs;
I would rather be dead than return to them! "
" Go and show them your mercy! " Jesus commanded him.
Paul had only minutes before he would be buried,
so he rushed back and surprisingly saw a large crowd
attending his service as Father Michael, the Chapel's priest,
performed the last rites by splashing Holy Water
in and around the shadowy grave. They heard a knock
coming from inside of the coffin...Paul's voice became louder,
" I am alive, not dead...let me out! " Everyone was horrified
and shocked, but Father Michael ordered the mortician to open
the casket and let Paul out. Jubilation filled the chilly air,
and streaks of light filtered through the murky clouds...their shouts
were heard as far as the outskirts of town: Paul was alive!"
I sat with Paul the day after under the shade of a fragrant pine,
and he told me about his visit to Heaven with tremendous joy
and fervent faith. He admitted that he was wrong not to have
shown them his compassion and with the sincerest smile
he proclaimed, " My anger and grudge have vanished;
I have forgiven them...I am so glad to have returned! "
Entered in the ramblig Poet's contest,
" In Search Of The Human Mind"
Assignment: A Near-Death Experience
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010
Her father lifted his old gray head and said to her
"daughter you will be alone"
She was trembling with anger and it was hard to hear him
"You will be alone, all your life if you drive that man away"
Her father walked to the sink and washed his cup
"release your bitter anger" he advised her
"you have been a sharp tounged girl since you were born it does not serve"
She dropped her head, unwilling, unable
punishment was her magic
humiliation was her power
At 33 she could not recover could not soften
"He will hit the wall and walk away" her father said, turning to her
"never' she said, although her heart quaked, her deepest fear
she could not stop
three years later she knelt and wept at her fathers grave
tapping, tapping, tapping the ground in sorrow
wanting to hit, wanting to rage
burning in her heart the bitter anger
she lived for
Copyright © Veronica Joseph | Year Posted 2011
Come with me, maybe you will see
Go away and stay burrowed in your own pain
Listen to my words, maybe ive got something.to.say
Barrowed time, spend all.of it in one.day
Tomorrows my time, times running out
Your offers i rudly decline, sell it back to you
A fellow.lost within his tunes,
Tune into.the station to here the lyrics amazing
Im.about.to.rise this time
Gonna fly away from here
Places ive made to be feared
Lace up your sneakers
Walk the streets to the bump of these speakers
Who is speaking?
Words i cant hear
Leave me here to stay impure, bet youll cheer
Save me from this place, places cant be saved
Pencile marking the page, erase it so they disapear
Crave this pain, taken to my grave
Just in time, a little to late i came
Im about to die this time
A ryhme for a rhyme
Rely on these lies
Combine all these minds
Whay you get are brilliant minds
Watch your step, take two steps back
This ledge is cracked
A home empty but feeling at home
Torn apart family that never made a menze
Move slow.to your.hole, then be cleansed
Whay i said is whay i meant
Loosing my ways in my attempt
Feel the same, because ive stayed in my ways
Filled my rage, break from this invisible cage
Time has come to pay my dues
This darkness ive walked hoping the sun shines through
Look to him above, may he bless my journey
Things ive done, did for the worthy
Blind and dirty, couldnt have seen this
Vision to blurry, home bound, god carries me out
My words ive spoken
Made the most of this
Filled with hope, guess its hopless
See you around if you come back around,
Hope you dont drown, your sorrow stays inbound
Refined and defined who is me
This cant be so ill just leave
For those i love i shall always bleed,
Just stick.to the course and follow your dreams.
Copyright © Danny Mcsweeney | Year Posted 2017
I go to the wall and I see your name
As I crouch in the corner I know there is no one to blame,
This is life you are born and then you die
As I stare at your picture it makes me cry,
There is nothing in this world that will ever fill
The void in my life as you stay so still,
I knock on the wall knowing you are there
Wanting you to knock back and say I care,
I crouch in the corner and pretend it is all just a dream
My mind knows it is real but, my heart wants to scream,
I sense you there in the beautiful gray bed
Knowing one day you and mother will be head to head.
Written By: Unique Poetry 2012
Copyright © Michelle Born | Year Posted 2015
I can't remember who you were, who you are.
I think I have never met you
You,however, instilled who you wanted to be
The never was of someone who wasn't
There was never any person, just a collection of dead flies
Lying around that dead man walking
There was no warmth, only disease
There were complaints, endless reasons and unresolved pasts
There were energies not meant for us
The whirlpools we were caught up
And storms, oh the storms
There were storms as irrational and as abusive
And then I couldn't understand the very truth that was right in front of us, wasn't realized by others
Perhaps they sympathize your horns,
Perhaps they were in love with the chains you choke them
Perhaps they were too young to understand
Or perhaps they were you
That dead man walking, carries with him a black hole as a heart
That dead man walking was waiting for his life to end, wishing
That dead man walking is alive yet cease to exist
That dead man walking is you.
Copyright © Emerald Canoy | Year Posted 2017
They buried her by the train,
still waiting for her father.
This was written to demonstrate the brevity of the epitaph form, in my critique of Stark Hunter's lovely free verse poem entitled "An Epitaph" which may be found here https://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry/forum/topic5517-an-epitaph.aspx
Copyright © Jack Webster | Year Posted 2017
I tread between green mounds of decay
surrounded by rows of engraved stone.
And lost in thought I lose track of day
for I’ve seldom felt quite so alone.
Where death lingers between monoliths
an air of somber clings to the shade.
Yet despite supernatural myths
I begin to wander unafraid.
A dying sun bleeds on every grave
resurrecting memories of old.
And reading words the living engrave
I seek warmth within a love gone cold.
My tortured heart disputes pains of youth
still in denial despite years of ache.
And eager to disregard the truth
tears dissipate like drops in a lake.
I crouch low before the place I seek
here lies a military hero.
And a single tear runs down my cheek
for my father a man called Leo.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
In fruitless tradition,
to kneel at the redingote of memory,
in this garden of loss and souls,
an insoluble desire to court heartache.
To renew a dark corner of the heart,
like a half burned candle that we labor to reignite,
through the bitter ephemeral winds of time.
But only illuminate that which will never be again.
Copyright © D William L | Year Posted 2017
We made the base for the grave out the farm,
Where our dad can now rest his head
Forever more, in his favourite spot,
The place of dad’s harmonious bed.
We mixed the buckets of water with concrete,
Then shovelled this to the square,
Levelled flat with rake, trowel and a spade,
We let it harden up in the air.
It’s on top of the hill, with a beautiful view of the farm,
A peaceful spot with the sheep,
A peaceful place where the birds sing all day,
And dad can now peacefully sleep.
We made a base for the grave out the farm,
Using concrete, bricks and stone,
Where dad can rest, forever more,
And we can visit him each day, all alone.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2017