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Grief Spring Poems | Grief Poems About Spring

These Grief Spring poems are examples of Grief poems about Spring. These are the best examples of Grief Spring poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Three days Saved

It's been nine years, I have counted the tears-
  they have made trails of guilt
  worried into my heart 
  then filled with loneliness and bitter despair
but by your grace I have been shown...

For the first time, in these nine years, I have not wept
  nor held a vigil to honor our grief
though the loss still burns, this time it is transformed

Peace from your love still reaches through death
  and through your eternal love I am reborn
 It is Good Friday. 
When God took your spirit home
  and left me dying to know,
  how to love him for his sacrifice
  when he asked me to give up you?
How do I heal this death and rise with you in his arms?

Through your love I was born, and in your arms I grew
 and it has been your love the kept me whole
 that taught me how to be reborn
    for even though your body has gone
    your words lost in the wind and breath no more
The essence of grace and strength you lived
- it grows still in your daughter soul

My being and existence came from your womb
  my heart and mind shaped by your enlightenment
I have lived a life you gave me and for once
   I live it in pride to honor your sacrifice
your words giving me the guidance I'd lost nine years ago.

Alas, I've come to know, that as you died
  and went home with our Lord, you saved me from my death
not in your dying, my grief and love can attest,
    but in your living strength and loving example
       you showed me how to live a life
             open to our Father's gift

We knew it would not wait, but the parting was too fast.
I sat in thought three days before your sleep and asked,
"In three days time my savior died, I wonder hence
   what of my soul will rise with his?"

And now sitting Easter morning, 
  holding my sons candy-filled basket,
I realized Three days passed.

  He took you home Friday morn, but left me love,
that eternal love that never dies
whose comfort is unending

I honor your love by giving it to my children
         and Easter morning I felt your hug, your kiss, and knew 
                                 you have never left me
Though God took you home Mom
I know you have never left me
for as our Savior died and rose
you too still live in my heart, 
showing me proof our Father's blessings

    because you, my love, are my soul and all ready there
there fore I am strong enough to give this pain up 
       to honor his sacrifice and transcend,
           to be humbled by the grace and mercy
          that could forgive such lost lambs as I

Copyright © tara jennings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse |


A cloud of polished steel hangs over 
The village, hollowed eyed people 
Look up to the sky 
Where is spring this year? 
Like the man on the bridge they can 
take no more.
For Paulo, the old carpenter it was 
all too much, no wine could still his angst
of not seeing another spring and 
his nightly screams echoed till dawn.
Dogs barked his time was over
hanging in the shed between his tractor
and work-bench.
This shook the village out of stupor 
No more waiting for what may never come,
a pig was slaughtered its blood an offering 
to life itself.
The feast lasted for days. 

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Distant African Nights

Those Distant African Nights...


The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,

a cool breeze teasing your bare back,

streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,

as my hands stroked your hair,

kissing your soft mouth,

holding you,

ever so tight.


You whispered that you loved me,

and I kept silent,

the rain fell, 
shadows danced,
thunder rolled,

the breeze teased your naked back,

you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,

the rain washed over our tender nights,

lightning and candlelight,

etching poems on your burnished skin,


a fear gnawed at me,

deep within.


We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,

now, after numberless thunderstorms,

the rain that falls,

echo the countless tears that I have shed.


You are long gone,

far away,

happy, I pray,

yet the memories persist,

those precious moments shall never, 

like the Jo'burg rains,
trickle away,

and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,

for it was I who was not worthy,


and it is I who is not worthy,



You were always true,

it was I who always,


refused to,

to give myself,

completely to you.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |

What Just Happen to My Spring

I looked out side to find a nice day in the month of May
And was walking in the evening just to say
I almost cried and my hands got cold
And winter month got so bold
It was so frustrating and out of the norm
And each person in their heart had a storm
It's the month of May what the! happen to spring
And my headache began to ring
Most people on the first day of May was so happy
And now they look out on the second day sappy
I just want everyone to know it is May 2, 2013
And nothing should be in between
So pullout your snow shovels in dismay
And things you should know will be okay
So good morning to all and to all a good morning
And I just want you to be out their in a warning
The snow is at six inches and beyond
And you will not see green grass in dawn
I help myself by writing this poem
And I will be staying at home
Crazy the weather became bad in May and nasty
I brought out some of my snack and that was tasty
I just looked outside while I was eating
As the snow kept on beating

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Spring - A tribute to Lynn

It's trying to Spring today
In Dublin's Phoenix Park
The trees are rising from the ashes of Winter
Dressing in a tentative coat of green
Like a thin leafy thong.

Against a bright mixed sky
Two butterflies, or possibly moths,
-The suns' light making identification impossible-
Play tag for supremacy of the skies
Silhouetted in my squinting vision.

A chubby chap with equally chubby dog
Sits on a white bench walking his mate
Spattered by sunlight leaking thru leaves
Of the trees shading his seat
While doggy rustles about happily.

We converse a minute about far off places
And sunburn and the Irish skin
His standpoint underpinned by an anecdote
Remembered from a long time past
A slimmer time for man and beast perhaps.

My wanderings continue in a long lazy lap
Feeling the warmth on my nape
Deer wandering close to the dangerous humans
A childs' laughter carries to my ears
Excitement at the proximity to Rudolphs' pals.

Memories of happier times invade my thoughts
The ninety minutes eaten up with ease
Spring-like humour filtering down to drivers
Who stop, smiling, and invite my crossing
With a ballroom dancers exaggerated hand.

Returning to the island of my car
Feeling distant now from all I've encountered
Warmed from both effort and experience
I smile inwardly and selecting first
Drift out into the Easter Sunday traffic.

Copyright © Brendan Osborne | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

One bird doesn't make Spring

friends don't stop asking why i don't when for the words the will is lost when the price they give, don't cost but, pain and energy to the utmost and then they ask whether i would when for the rhyme i need a mood while here in the town life is crude no one knows, to live more if i could i need to give my pen a breath and on a paper ,i spit my wrath i need a feeling soft not math when you lost the blood it's death i need the moutain to be strong i need the fountain, oh , how i long ! i need to hear the twitter of bird in the deep woods, there, is my world the words don't come easy as before they hurt the head and the heart's sore they need a bird to twitter the rhyme and a soft breeze to tune a time if you have Spring here i don't sing if you have butterflies, here no wing if you have roses, i have thorns if yours sings, here my bird mourns it's not fair when fate is wrong and the pit with worms throng and the days for others are nights and the nights for them are darks to the world i say this word you don't have to be poet with word you have to be human with a feel if you don't have that, yourself* Kill*
To my friends with my regards to *Silent One* maiinly.

Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2016

Details | Acrostic |

Spring is Coming Soon

Soon I’ll be sneezing.
Plenty of tissues in hand.
Rather than sniffing
In the fresh air.
Naps with Benedryl
Give some relief.

Injections for allergies
Simply caused more grief.

Crazed with discomfort and
Options so few,
My nose needs a miracle
If one comes in view. 
Newly cut 
Grass is a big achoo, too.

Spring is the culprit that
Outjinxes me.  She
Opts to sprout blooms that are
Never scent free.

March 23, 2017

Copyright © Deb Adams | Year Posted 2017