We were both so young full of spirit and fun
She's the Indian I'm the Cowgirl as we move along the ground just fooling around
Running through the house attacking each other with laughter and joy trying to be coy
We see the rifle with no knowledge of great threat
Just giving us a peak with nothing to regret
My sister grabs it first and play shoots me but I'm quick and hold a might sway
I'm a strong cowgirl aiming to attack
I snatch the rifle from the Indian as she starts to retract
I AIM-- I SHOOT--
My breathing has stopped but I'm not aware
My ears are ringing
Do I run and hide do I start screaming?
For death I do not know and everything is now so slow
Is she just sleeping or can I hear her weeping?
Mama where are you? You were just ten steps below but you do not show
My sister must be sleeping a blanket will help her weeping
Gently I cover her but she doesn't seem to know
Her long brown hair now has an odd red glow
I'm only a child but my mind is going wild
My tears of fear blind me as I fall to the ground
Many days have passed me as I have grow old
but I can still remember her grave with the Angel stone.
T Reams 10th Place for my Sister Amber I Miss You
Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015
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
Beloved, lovely roses: gift of God and lover’s flower,
Spread your colored petals and cradle tender showers.
While admiring the blossoms with their beauty to behold,
Ought we not to know the Tender of such lovely garden groves?
For He lovingly and thoughtfully wields His pruning shears
To cut away the stems of old for fuller future years.
He cultivates and feeds them. He attends them as a Father
Looking daily to their needs; so faithfully He waters.
From the dawn of morning dew until the setting sun arrays
Caring always for His own until that great appointed day…
When the Gardener comes to claim each one the earth held as its own.
He gently picks it at its peak and for His pleasure takes it home.
As God did one glorious morning, when the Perfect Rose had bloomed.
He rolled away the stone and met with Mary at the tomb.
There the sweetest Rose of Sharon rose that we die not alone.
But be gathered for a garden grove, surrounding heavens throne.
Copyright © Tom Valles | Year Posted 2013
Why all this Destructions? – Zamreen Zarook
God created this whole universe for the mankind,
He gave everything lavishly, thinking that we might be kind,
Even though people are able, they seems to be blind,
Whereas people failed to mind.
The sky which was created for the man started to scream and cry,
Since good morals and ethics were decry,
The fire started to do the mimicry,
As the water lands cannot bear, it came to man with a battle cry.
Land couldn't hold and it started to gorge,
Fresh air merged with chemicals and started to urge,
Whatever created for the man have started to over charged,
Stop evil and let the merits be enlarged.
Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013
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
You think you’ve gone just far enough,
I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again
You think you were careful but,
I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form
You think you can find a way into my good graces
I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume
You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents
You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win
Don’t underestimate me
You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing
You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down
My eyes took too long to adjust
Better late than never
It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours
My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep
Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet
Then I thought about the mess it would make
I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own
I was not weak, but I had a weakness
A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care
Now my heart is a stone so heavy
I could kill at least two birds at once
Being the nice guy is a thing of the past
Thanks for freeing me of that softness
You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things
When really I had just been swallowing razor blades
Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong
Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you
If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run
Your gonna be the one with tired feet
I’m not sad anymore
Just sick with the plague of your lies
Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss
Even angels can make themselves wicked
When we do, we take no prisoners
Still think I’m a game
This one is just beginning
Copyright © Alexander Schwartz | Year Posted 2013
It was for you and me,
That Jesus left His throne,
Bore the scourge and agony,
Shivered His flesh and bone,
It was for you and me,
He took the awry tour,
Towards the dreaded Calvary,
Summed His tortured hours,
It was for you and me,
That Jesus bore the cross,
Paid the greatest penalty,
That death supposed be ours,
It was for you and me,
He wailed the gloomiest cry,
It was for you and me,
Jesus was nailed to die,
Oh, that you and I may see,
Our wickedness beyond measure,
Jesus to set us free,
In our stead bore the torture,
His love mysterious great,
Knocks the door of all men's heart,
His mighty power recreates,
Renews our lives whole to restart,
It was for you and me,
When on the third-day death sufficed,
The savior left His grave,
Victorious he arised,
He rose back to His throne,
Sitting by His Father's side,
Prepare! He's coming soon,
Today is to decide,
Copyright © joselito asperin | Year Posted 2007
I do not know?
Watching the sequence of sound coming out of your mouth...
But the screaming is too loud.
I can speak,
But my brain doesn't want to.
I closed the door.
Silence called for me.
Should I cry or should I run after her?
What have I done to you?
but love you uncontrollably.
Shes then left speechless.
It looks like shes out of breath,
but really I broke her.
She was fragile.
Run, Just run.
A gun raised..
up to her mouth.
And a taint on her heart.
Copyright © Lidija Vresk | Year Posted 2013
Pride comes before the fall
under a tender gaze of midday's sun
Our Sunday cross
is being turned upside down
incorrectly sponsored by none other than the arts council
as it carries their logo seal of approval stamped all over it
With groups promoting sin unholy acts attack
Abortion takes the centre staged arena
dark nights follow anyone supporting
such an ugly vile deed unchristian barbarism
tearing a child from the tree of life
Blind beggars God is not with them anymore
innocence is now plucked from the vine of the living
condemned to death
Also un-natural against the good living is speaking out of turn
trying to twist their sins as if born to do so deeply disturbed
family values is the most productive role in society today
to overshadow it against creations seed sewn treasures
The true values we hold are held
truth inside our mortal souls frame of mind
Born from the spirit of injustices a fire burns
crying to the Heaven's in dread filled shame for mercies sake
unhappy victims they become whom
are chained by incorrect choice
dressed down silenced good
yet remains to speak firmly on ignorance
in an open verdict time
will catch up
when the judgement bell tolls
Numbers each and every single beast
corrupt to the marrow
I for one condemn this false face called liberal
arrogant tunnel visioned traitors
Removing our Divine King as Lord
in our most Sacred Heart blessed
we are protected under his Holy mantel
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017
I know it's too little.
I know I'm too late...
I guess I expected time to stop...
For time to just wait...
You needed me and where was I...?
When you lay dying in bed.?
Too caught up in my head...
These flowers on your grave mean nothing...
The tears I cry are pointless...
It's too little...
I should have been there til the end.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda...
It doesn't mean anything now...
Copyright © Morgan Jay | Year Posted 2014
You regret your foolish disclosure, as you confessed to be a cold hearted lover for she was
lost of hope n’ sacrificed herself from this crest for her love for you consumed her totally,
though her broken heart, in the care of the angels choir, now sings reforged in the fires of
You lived your life in the garments of a scar around your heart, covered in bark, thrombosed
to the love of another, it now cries in virtue n’ chastity from the sentient tree that consumed
your ashes n’ dust in the grave at the top of the crest by the sea…
I give to you Poet my blessing, so you can relinquish your guilt n’ pain of love’s abandoning
from the bed of blame you made of your grave, for your quill is at peace till your
homecoming into this world, my sweet poet come back to me…
For time was your crest from this day you have leapt, you are forgiven my love so rise, let
go your purgatory n’ perhaps one day we will meet once again as your soul escapes the
gravity of captivity, now owlish n’ wise let it fly to our destiny…
Though not a word is spoken in these moments of conjuration from a lover long gone in an
age of castles n’ quests by the sea, it stormed all night n’ I remained by your grave side till
sunrise n’ the flame in your eyes became the Immortal’s fire to reforge a tarnished heart,
for your tortured soul now understands n’ through the flames your mind will follow…
Now I see the picture you have painted in the illusion of the rainbow n’ I sense the birth of
humility n’ grace as the sun breaks through the storm clouds, for your poem of remorse
finally rests n’ you my love are reborn with angel wings to ride mother earth’s breath…
Copyright © Lilt Of Orpheus | Year Posted 2009
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
Through my injustices
it has given me an insight
one I never had before
These are the words written down
as the pen is mightier and exposes a soul
by Gutle Schnapper Rothschild
if my sons did not want wars
there would be none
These elitists are parts of a spine forming
on the snakes back they are slimy toads
without emotions or feelings
They are wizards
part of a circle who claim rights
to the skull and crossbones of Adam
dark magic your seed is from hell
From the ashes of fire you will smother
tortured empty spirits forgotten void
your soul is empty of loving peace
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017
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
Once or twice
I will be nice
And then I'm absolutely done
Not one more warning
No more mournings
Back to square one
I am the Lord
Mistakes you've made
Stick to the Plan
Results in Hand
Left in the grave
Copyright © Amy Bohack | Year Posted 2012
I’ve been on death row for 29 years now. 29 years of appeals and waiting.
And you say to me, “it all must be a bucket of suffering,” like you understand.
You don’t and you should know I’ve grown. You might ask how, but it’s because I’ve emptied that big, fat, ugly "bucket" of all contents except for one.
The suffering is not in the regret for killing her, and the suffering isn’t in my fear of death that is only two months away. It’s not in the childhood dreams that went unrealized, or the family gatherings I missed out on. It’s not in the confinement of a cell which is the only thing I’ve come to know, or the prison culture that is a beating in itself.
The only suffering is in the lack of forgiveness I have for myself regardless of how I’ve finally become the person I always wanted to be.
Yes. You heard it. I’ve become the person I have always wanted to be. I read amazing books, amazing books! I never would have read any of these books but it was one of the few things I could do, and Hemingway taught me “ There is no friend more loyal than a book.”
Suddenly, I wasn't lonely anymore. Knowledge was my companion.
Then my new found loyal “friends” showed me who Gandhi was- not the Gandhi we all learn in class but Gandhi through his own words and I learned, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong.”
But I’m weak, I’m soft, I’m hurt- from all the parts of myself that brought me here.
Then her family contacted me and said they were praying for me, that God forgives me.
So I read, yes, I went to my loyal friends and they brought me to Dean Ornish who said “Awareness is the first step in healing.”
So I took notice of my remnants of self hate, but they wouldn’t change. 29 years here and they still haven’t changed. And I have many “loyal friends” that have filled my life with years of love but none of them ever taught me how to let go of the fact that someone so naive and so young could make such a grave mistake.
Copyright © Richard Bates | Year Posted 2017
As I walk through the cemetery
Looking at the many headstones
I come across one of a mere infant
Whose life expired well before the time
Of her impending birth
A flood of memories fill my mind
I hear the cries of little babies
I hear the sound of children playing
And I hear a child scream with rage,
"How could you do it Mommy?"
I thought I could escape from my demons
That won't let go of my mistakes
I scream and sob for I thought it was over
I thought my sins died with my children
Who were butchered at my behest
Blood drips from my hands
All of a sudden a bloody knife appears in my hand
And I hear the taunts of many childlike voices hollowing
"You slaughtered us! You left us to die!"
I hear the tiny footsteps of children approaching
I was horrified at what I saw
I see the faces of my babies
Ghost white with tears of blood
Dripping down their cheeks
Trembling with fear I shake violently
Begging for an end to my torment
At that moment I felt a light tap on my shoulder
My husband trying to wake me
From my haunting nightmare
He knows what I was dreaming
So he takes me in his arms
Giving me a long embrace
Then he tells me that it is
Time for me to forgive myself
Because my children are resting peacefully
In Heaven with Jesus
And that one day I will get to hold them in my arms
And look at their beautiful faces
Finally getting the chance to be their Mother
After a lifetime seperated from them
Copyright © Courtney Dyer | Year Posted 2007
I come before you
In shame I witness my fall
as I come before
I come before God
for He's the only true judge
to heaven or hell
I come before man
man can only take me to
the grave, the grave, grave
by James Edward Lee Sr.
Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2018