I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
he began to explain and his eyes became moist.
“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.
I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
please remember him son, as you grow old.
The value of his service, I must explain,
if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him;
and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”
I listened in awe as my father spoke,
it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
and when he returned I thought nothing more.
I never asked why he walked with a limp,
and I didn’t care about why he was sick.
I was too busy enjoying the life that I had,
to realize that I had it because of dad.
I finally understood what my dad was about,
and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
and his battle scars were suffered for me.
It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day;
thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.
That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret;
and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier.
Copyright © Ed Coet | Year Posted 2007
'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces
(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE"...Yeah, you must have said that)
Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
If it were a head-on collision, you may have survived
If on the rear side, perhaps only a violent spin
But no, no it had to be on the driver’s side door
It was 'perfect timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that country road you were driving; innocently driving
just trying to get back home...
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014
Listening for whispers from beyond the grave.
So hard to hear for the mortality slave.
Wind blows a chill thru the winters trees.
Hands clasped in prayer I'm on my knees.
Denial on my lips disbelief in my heart.
Scared and alone my world torn apart.
A pastor speaks standing beside you.
I know you're gone but don't want it to be true.
Who are these strangers standing around.
Inch by inch you're lowered into the ground.
Everyone says, " I'm so sorry for your loss. "
Can't they see I'm on an ocean that I can't cross.
If I close my eyes and listen really hard.
I can hear you say, " go play but stay in the yard."
Memories hurt Mom and I don't want to cry.
Please don't go I don't want you to die.
I know I can't stop it there's nothing I can do.
You'll just have to live on in my memories of you.
Now I have to find a way to be strong and brave.
Keep listening for whispers from beyond the grave.
Written on 3/24/16
Copyright © Scott Williams | Year Posted 2016
I do not know?
How do you do it...
Paroled for awhile
then back to the pen.
We know you don't mean it.
We know that you care.
But when will you show it?
When and where?
As much as we love you
our hate runs that strong.
Why can't you stay with us?
What are we doing wrong?
Are your friends to blame?
Did they help cause this bust?
What should we feel?
Who do we trust?
Who do we love?
Who should we hate?
Why do you burden us
with all your stuff
on our plate?
It's too much to handle,
we're too young to deal.
With the heartache we have,
with the pain that we feel.
Your our Daddy, our idol,
our mentor for sure.
Our anger, our hope,
we need you here more.
Your smile, our tears
your our happiness found.
Our twinkle, our fears,
the reason we frown.
You want us to love you
you want us to care
But Daddy, how can we...
when your never there!
Copyright © karin herrman | Year Posted 2006
When Darkest Of Blues Will Not Stop Pounding
Standing atop this high cliff, clouds floating on by
Watching last sunset, red-tint paint splashing blue sky
Now finding life, has stooped to beat me up again
Despite my deep courage, embraced through thick and thin
No honor felt in this lost state I am at
Broken wrangler with no horse, no damn cowboy hat
Just a dying soul, trying to live to hold on
Now that the beauty of life's colors have all gone
Weeping into winds once found to be clear and fair
Missing that love, only mother and child can share
Glancing down, life and earth seems so damn far below
So many exits, yet I have nowhere to go
Standing atop this high cliff, clouds floating on by
Watching last sunset, red-tint paint splashing blue sky
Robert J. Lindley, 2-17-2017
Note; One day gleaming sun does so shine. Next day it hides and laughs in wicked glee.
There is now a huge hole in me. I wish to drown, in the next storm in this dark, raging sea.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
White marble stones
Stand proud in the sun
To remember my colleagues
The heroic fallen ones
Many a battle
Many a campaign
Some did return
For some never the same
On the green grass I stand
Blue sky above
The souls of my comrade's
Like peaceful sitting doves
The name on this stone
Reminds me of the day
My best friend and brother
Was taken away
An offensive was launched
Brothers at war
Bunker to take
At the top of a tor
Smoke screen exhausts the view to the hill
As we wind our way through
Zipping bullets, blood spill
Noises of lead, as they rip through the flesh
As we hit the barbed wire
Now a scarlet stained mesh
Objective in sight as we approach our aim
As I hear the groan of the injured
Many dead, maimed
Grenade pin pulled
Bunker window we lob
How many lives will we rob
Explosion flash, shouts of pain
As the smoke lifts on this bloody terrain
We enter the Bunker
To witness our task
The enemy lie distorted
Faces grimace, death mask
I turn to my brother to signal it's safe
As a shot rings out in this theatre place
He stands still for a moment
Eyes glazing and cold
The death of my sibling
At 19 years old
As I open my eyes and turn to my son
I see what I have as he holds my grandson
Family values, love and a bond
As I remember my brother
Of whom I was so fond
I proudly walk past, salute as I go
The white stones standing proud
Peaceful doves in a row
I find myself fortunate to stand here and tell
To talk of my brother, and the fallen as well
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014
When my son was small he and his friends loved to play marines
A brown eyed soldier dressed up in his helmet and his jeans
I asked him why he always died whenever they would play
He just said “I saved my friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way”
As he grew up his Mom and I always wondered what he’d be
When he reached high school he enrolled in their ROTC
Once he had finished high school he enlisted without delay
I should have known it all along, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
When he had finished training and became a full marine
I was the proudest father that anyone had ever seen
A brown eyed soldier in full dress not a thread in disarray
Stood proudly there before me, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
He eventually got married to a beautiful young wife
And I asked if she was ready for a military life
She just smiled and hugged me tight as she fondly did convey
That nothing could make her prouder, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
One day he told us he must leave for a war had broken out
He wasn’t sure what started it or what it was about
His mother asked if there was any way that he could stay
He told her “Mom, it’s my duty”, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
She said “Son, it’s very dangerous, you could be killed you know”
He said “Mom, if we all stayed home there’d be no one left to go”
“Dad,” he said “If this war is right it’s not for me to say”
But I have to follow orders, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
Just recently his wife received a visit and a letter
Our son had died in combat and that there was not a better
Leader in all their company, and that on that fateful day
He’d bravely saved all of his friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
He left behind a sweet young wife and beautiful little son
We all are very proud of him and everything he’s done
My son did his duty and he is coming home today
In a flag draped wooden coffin, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
Some have asked if I’m angry that my only son had to die
I simply smile and shake my head and here is my reply
My friend take a look at all you have around you here this day
You have all of these lovely things, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
My grandson looks just like his Dad in his helmet and his jeans
As he plays out with his buddies, pretending they’re marines
And when he falls and pretends to die, then I know right away
That he has just saved all his friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
For William J. Holder
In memory of Jon R. "Sonny" Holder
Died during the Vietnam conflict
Copyright © Stephen Washam | Year Posted 2010
Sunday night Apr. 8, 2001:
The night I slept in relative peace
foolishly, naively believing and
falsely assuming that all was well…
But then the morning after:
Though not the worst morning after
still the numbing, paralyzing morning after
the morning his voice seemed far away
as if it were an eerie, drug induced dream
the morning he regretted to inform...
(For a precious few weeks
one hibernates, wrapped up safely
in that protective cocoon
of sweet denial and disbelief)
No, the worst morning after came
after all had been said and done
after basking in the glow of sympathy
after the admiration of my iron will
after all returned to daily routines
after I found myself alone again…
Oh no, the worst morning after
was the morning I startled awake
to find that monster standing there
that monster who pointed at me
and told me the bitter, brutal truth
the awful and merciful truth of God
the truth that you are really gone
and are never, ever coming back…
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013
Watching leaves cartwheel down
we meet at the bench
tucked under the trees, in the park
Unable to speak
I am feeling a squeeze in my breast
My emotions are clenched
with years of unrest
since that day that I left, empty armed
Still weak in the knees
I must sit while I watch
this child, once mine,
sit cross-legged, in light
of the late August sun
His fingers unpeel
the paper, and twine
from the gift I have brought
from a little gift shop
that I passed when I walked in the night
With the package undone,
he smiles up at me
and I see in his eyes
the wholeness of him
And I am strangled to say
the words that I could….
Would I tell him the things
that would empty those eyes
of a soft place to land ?
Now he grabs for the hand
of the mother he knows
and I thank her with eyes
before I must go
I must leave him to her
and not say the words
that would follow him home for all time
I have broken away
any hold that I had
except for the one
that chokes out the sun
on a hot August day
in the late afternoon
A leaf tumbles down, then is swept by the breeze
Only here for a moment, then gone
A Fictional Poem Based On Contest: "Long Lost Family"
And for Contest: Personal Best of 2016
Sponsored by Frank Herrera
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
Mommy, Why do you cry?
Daddy, Why weep?
The angels up here.
Are so loving and sweet.
What a beautiful place,
No sadness or fears.
And whatever you ask,
God always hears.
His love surrounds me,
I am not alone.
I am comforted and loved,
I am happy at home.
So, here for you,
I'll patiently abide.
Keeping our mansion ready,
Warm and cozy inside.
I'm very close by,
And in your hearts I will stay.
I'm not really gone,
I'm just a heartbeat away.
The angels were singing,
As they opened the gates.
As you see, for me,
Heaven just could not wait.
Copyright © Gina Archibald | Year Posted 2009
On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute
For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes
A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken
So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife
On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys
For the living, life goes on
Tomorrow is another day
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
Quiet and still now.
The swing occasionally catches the air.
The tire never moves.
There’s no one there to care.
The jungle gym beside it is played with by squirrels.
The sand box below holds creatures quiet and shy.
Tiny plastic men are lost in the sand deep below.
A metal car is with them, once favorite of them all.
Leaves stir in the clubhouse, with spiders in its loft.
My son hadn’t played with it for a long, long while.
But I hadn’t noticed while he was here running in the house.
And now when I see the Wooden Swing Set…
It’s connects with my empty heart.
A touch of Empty Nest Syndrome brought this poem to me.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2011
Your going has left a hole in my heart that time,
The Great Healer, cannot repair.
Your going has left a hole in my existence
That forever and beyond will not heal,
A hole ever expanding from its own nothingness,
A hole through which all the goodness,
All the kindness of you is slipping through.
You were my sounding board.
Trite ideas offered, came back
Enhanced, brilliant and sparkling.
Borrowing intelligence from you, I grew wiser.
Doors opened before me as I strove to be worthy
Of you, my beloved son.
I go on now as you would have me do,
Searching in Nature for the joy
You found in its wonders.
Hearing bird songs with your ears,
Relating to others with your empathetic instincts.
Striving, ever striving to be the person
And mother that you believed me to be
And never letting your memory grow dim
For those you loved and for whom you sacrificed.
You came into this world with a wisdom
That did not come from me.
I thank God each day for His lending you to me
For the time that I had you near
And I cling to His promise
That I will see you again.
I could not tell from whence you came,
Born with a wisdom that did not come from me,
And I do not know where you have gone,
Part of myself, the better part--into Eternity.
Originally entered as verse
A Letter to my Son
Your going has left a hole in my heart
That Time, that great healer cannot repair.
Your going left space in my existence
That forever and more will still be there.
Ever expanding from it nothingness
A hole from which your goodness has slipped through.
The kindnesses you wore as a halo
Have disappeared as well since I lost you.
I used you as a sounding boad to measure
The wisdom and the beauty of the world.
Your ideas were so clear and brilliant,
Through you my own best aptitudes unfurled.
I'm trying to live up to your standards.
I want to be more worthy of you, Son.
You told me once I was the perfect mother,
And with you life was such a lot of fun.
I thank God every day for loan of you.
The time we had was more than worth the pain.
And now I'm clinging tight to his promise
That some day I will see you once again.
I do not know from whence you came,
Blessed with wisdom that did not come from me.
Each day I pray I know where you have gone;
Taking my heart into Eternity.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2009
Born I was, still alive today, down, but I'll be back to say
Even at a small age, when our house burnt to the ground
Disorientated, confused, in it's smoke filled surround
With no other place to go, to a Caravan we called our home
It was the events after this, that allowed my mind to roam
Little me playing in a field, on a broken bottle I fell
Crimson fountains erupted, I survived, as I'm here to tell
That Monday night so special, Boys Brigade we headed to be
I tried to run faster, but my brother was faster than me
Out of the opening he went, boy running, was he skilled
He was there, but gone the next, knocked down, my brother killed
My mind now in roam and wander, fathers health started to slide
Where does a seven year old turn to, to whom does he confide
Pillar to post I headed, fostered out, and to children's homes
Six years later many more tears, my father in deathly roam
To my father I kept my promise, to the Royal Navy I would go
Whilst training, caught under a raft, my life nearing slow
Pulled from the water was I, nearly drained of what little I had
A release of water, a gasp of air, hours later feeling so glad
Eventually what I'd always wanted, to be happy and family be
Married to the girl whom I'd know, would love to marry me
But to a colleague I'd declared my worries, of a phone call I'd take
For History would repeat itself, to awaken to a possible wake
That call finally arrived, to the telephone, speaking to my eldest son
Liam his younger brother, knocked down, my tears in run
I'm blessed that he was saved, which cancelled out that call
I only wish that technology was, that I'd have a firewall
This is me up to date, apart this last weekend
Again I thought I lost my youngest, once again relieved of strain
Hours up at the Hospital, the first human skull I've seen
A serious cut to his head, but what it could have been
This my life's chapter, around the corner we never know
But all I can say to the above, around me continues to glow
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014
A faded leather notebook filled with lines he'd never read
Was never far away from where he slept
The book that she had written since her love was but a seed
A book so full of her he always wept
She never let him read it and he teased her every day
But now he held her poems as he missed her every way
Each page is filled with all her hopes her love and yes her dreams
Each verse is filled with him in every line
His life is now an ancient suit that's split in all the seams
Each day another step on his decline
She was the only reason that he woke up every day
The woman that he loves and now he misses every way
He tried to read the sonnets that his son said were so sweet
But never could he read beyond the first
For all the lines were tortures his endurance could not meet
With every word he thought his heart had burst
She had written in the notebook at the end of every day
And her poems are the loving that he craves in every way
And now the leather notebook lies there clasped in lifeless hands
He'll never read the verses of her heart
But his mourning son beside him has a soul that understands
His father never had the strength to start
He will treasure all the poems that were written every day
They're the story of his parents whom he loved in every way
Copyright © Jeff Green | Year Posted 2009
A whisper in the wind is all that remains after you left me behind,
I find you lost in a memory never to be relived.
I don't know why you never said goodbye or why you had to leave,
A kindred spirit broken in a world confused and disillusioned by being alone.
Nobody should lose a parent - a mom.
You disappeared so quickly and quietly - like a whisper in the wind,
Now I am locked out of knowing - knowing so little and so unaware of so much.
Only a mom helps a son through times when pure love is her only motivation.
Mom, you taught me to love, to care and to believe,
You brought life into my lungs and shared precious blood to my heart.
I am selfish to wish you were here to help through times when I need you.
I am taught by this mortal world that your new home is much better than mine.
Some say we will reunite someday,
But for now - my only solace is to listen closely - for a whisper in the wind.
Form: Free Verse
Contest: Long Lost Family
Sponsor: Silent One
Results: 4th Place
Copyright © Jesse Day | Year Posted 2016
My name is James, born 1961
In Inverness, a small Scots town
To my father Andrew, and my mother Beryl
And Billy my brother, a pair of devils
In 67, we woke one night
Our house was ablaze, full of orange light
Our neighbour next door, for whatever reason
Started a fire, it must be crazy season
We had too move to a caravan park
By this time it,s three, to make a new start
My mother Beryl decide to leave
But the three of us left, never bothered to grieve
In the next few weeks, we ended in court
Two small children, in a marriage abort
We were asked to choose either Dad or Mum
But we ignored the parent, who went on the run
As we left the court, to start a new life
We felt sorry for Dad, as his illness was rife
He never told us that he was unwell
It would upset one of his boys, as the future will tell
Then came the night all parents dread;
Being told one of his boys is nearly dead
We were going to a boys club, on a Monday night
My brother was running so far out of sight
I turned the corner to see him ahead
No!! he's been hit by a van, Boom's Boom's dead
I ran to my father, sreaming and crying
I'm finding my life,at 7 - far too trying
After the funeral, and with my father unwell
We left Inverness, our eyes a swell
To go as two, and not three as before
It's like Mother Nature closed a door
So we headed west, to a place called Fort William
Was it in the stars, cause Billy " is " William
We moved there, as the air was so pure
Hoping my father will find his cure
For whatever reason, we left the above
We found no Angel or peaceful dove
So we headed back to Inverness
Fathers health decreasing, life still a stress
Over the next few years, i was fostered and loaned
In couples houses and children's homes
It was really strange in all those places
Different people, different faces
Then on the 16th of Feb - 76,
James, i was told, your dads very sick.
The cancer had taken your father away
To be with Billy, where you'll join them one day
In 77, i joined the Navy, as i promised my dad you see.
I did'nt enjoy it, i decided to leave
Back up north, where my futures to be
I wanted to have, what my parents had lost
And that was my aim, no matter the cost
see page 2 of 2, ty..
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
The man with the plastic bug in his head
monopolized my dreams last night
in the place that the horsefly of my dignity
finally surrender to the impresario without a fight.
Seven days and 7 hours transplanted in my memorabilia
reminding the rustiness of the purple child
flatterers danced beneath the clouds of melancholy
and morality spreader the master plan inside my mind.
The disinheritance of my immortality the final day
discouraged my desire to see the forbidden love
restored my will to escape
manipulated the deep of the uncertainty above.
Released from the plastic bug in my head
try to cover my yellow child in the purple sky
seven days and seven hours before he dies.
Copyright © Teddy Frustiente | Year Posted 2009
I wake-up to a sudden wail
probably, someone passed away
the whistles of the melancholic tune
of the passing winds made
a woman weep, as the angels trumpet
in no tune now chanting in unison
without reason in the midst of
forgotten tombstones, of marble
rubble, where in silence lies
the diary, in which the secret of growing
vines could be found, the gardening
ways of the ancient gods, yet
in flick of time the vineyard will not
be the same, as the rake stand
rusting as days go by, and his
epitaph, engraved from own sweat
and blood has revealed that the sweet
wine, the true essence of his spirit
the glory that he had kept
for years, is nothing, but me…
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
Please do not think of me and weep.
I did not die on that dim lit street.
I'm the sun that shines on you in a warm loving way.
I'm the son you'll reunite with on some future day.
I'm the young man in your car whom you taught how to drive.
I'm the little boy who looked up to you as I walked by your side.
I'm the sound of children laughing full of happiness and glee.
Do you recall how much I'd laugh when you'd often tickle me?
I'm all those Birthdays and Christmas Holidays that you never forgot.
You would shower me with presents whether I was a good boy or not.
I know that you miss me, that's why I show up
in your dreams as a child or sometimes grown up,
but after the dream has ended, you awaken feeling sad.
Perhaps this will cheer you up.
You Were The Greatest Dad I Could Have Ever Had.
You took me out camping and taught me how to swim.
We'd race and play games and you'd always let me win.
You took me bike riding every morning before school.
All my friends used to tell me, "Your dad's really cool."
I'm all of those bright blue eyed boys that you occasionally see
who all seem to have a striking resemblance of me.
So please Dad, don't ever think of me and cry.
My Presence Is All Around You.
I will never die.
Your Loving Son Always,
05/04/1974 - 10/27/1991
You Will Never Be Forgotten
You Will Always Be Loved
Rest In Peace My Beloved Son
"To the one held responsible and accountable for my son's death.
To the one responsible for taking my son's last dying breath.
To the one who caused so much misery and sorrow to your family and mine.
To the one found guilty of manslaughter who has now served his time.
If you are truly remorseful, then I've only one last thing to say to you.
If you are truly remorseful then I Forgive you."
Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster | Year Posted 2009
Lost amongst the tattered ruins of yesterdays dreams I wander uncertain of my own fate. Screams in the distance pull me back from the edge of loneliness.
I hold onto the pain to stay alive.
Cruelty is my companion as i journey to a destiny yet to be revealed. Strength escapes me on the coldest of nights huddled alone with my memories. The tears fall drowning the giggles that once filled my ears. His face a distant longing. I almost wonder if he was ever there at all.
The pitter patter of tiny foot steps echo in my fears.
Please I wish for them to leave me, and yet I so cherish their haunting lullaby so I can remember what it is to feel joy.
My son you are lost, but I will find you.
A mothers love never dies.
Copyright © Ashley Dibble | Year Posted 2016
Around that table, picture the scene
Self appointed leaders if you know what I mean
What were the topics on the Agenda that day
The Jewish race is about to pay
Who gave the right for this decision that's made
Who has the right to cleanse and degrade
To decide who lived, to decide who dies
Another chapter, I still wonder why
They came in the day they came in the night
Women and children pulled out of sight
Herded aboard like cattle and sheep
Many a family awoke from their sleep
Dazed and confused as they are taken away
Where will they be at the end of the day
From their warm houses and their warm beds
What must be going through their heads
As they travel through days and through the night
Up ahead, they see lots of lights
They depart the trucks and board the train
Their faces scared under the strain
Asking questions from family and others
Generations, sisters and brothers
Why are we here, where are we going
Windowless carriages with no way of knowing
We come to a stop, soldiers aplenty
Towers and wire, topped with sentries
What can this place be they have taken us to
As we head to large gates as they shuffle us through
Families separated, herded in file
Women and children, not one did smile
Taken to rooms where our heads were shaved
Is this the way humans behaved
Clothes discarded, as we enter the shower
No signs of water no signs of power
Doors slammed as we are all crammed in
History will recall this evil of sins
As we stand in the dark, chanting Jewish faith
Can hear the voices can't see the face
Noises above, do the showers start
The event has begun that tells us Humans apart
Questions and sighs, as walled vents show daylight
Some thing is falling then their slammed tight
A strange aroma starts to fill the air
As all around are screams of despair
Twenty minutes have passed and the quietness is rife
Two thousand people, two thousand lives
Pellets called HCN, or Hydrogen Cyanide
Contribute to this Genocide
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
After the quiet we all have to go
Dragged and carted by the Sonderkommando
To be dumped in pits covered by lime
A race to dispose by it's Human slime
Auschwitz, Buchenwald & Dachau slaughtered
Many a son, many a daughter
Experiments on children women and men
Some aged 90, many under 10
In 45, their end was near, how many alive would reappear
As Russians, British and US troops
Chased the Hun to their German roots
Each camp reached showed it's sordid past
Where millions of me, were massively gassed
In Auschwitz, to this present day
Birds don't fly, no animals play
The reminder is all for there to see
Those terrible days what happened to me
It's 1948, our Nation is born
From histories past, populations torn
To all who survived I wish you well
And our new born world, called Israel
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
A small grave, and for it's weeds was bare
with only a handmade wooden cross.
Easy to see that a child rest there.
Poor unloved young soul was my first thought.
Well I read this cross, for this child of grief.
"John my young son so frail and fair
my joy, my love, my life I leave
to the arms of your mother and Lord's care."
The back read; "To doctors all my money I gave
I cannot buy even a simple stone
with a borrowed spade, I have dug your grave,
I carve this marker, and am now alone."
That wooden cross, seemed to rise
high above great marble markers.
Thoughts rush my mind as I realized
the pain this poor man's heart had harbored.
Never again his son he will see
knowing his child would rests under cold ground.
As unkempt as this grave seemed to be,
with it's wooden cross and it’s weeds all around.
I pulled at those weeds with my bare hand
then my flowers I laid at the foot of that cross.
I prayed "Please God, help me understand"
as I felt the pain of another man's loss.
Copyright © Mike Samford | Year Posted 2007
How like the pumpkin you seem to me;
arriving full-blown from the seed planted
in my womb.
You grew wild and free
among the tamer fruits of life.
I can still hear an echo of your laughter.
Vines and tendrils wound about you
in infancy long past.
We were pulled apart by my growth and yours.
I long for the blossoming days
of infancy and childhood,
for the wee small one
who never failed to make me smile,
for the adult who sprang Jack-o-lantern whole
into a world of normalcy
refusing to accept the mundane.
Can you not see me? Did you not know me?
Was I never the gardener to you?
The garden now lies,
overrun by last years Halloween's delights,
allowed to run their course,
and in doing so trampling the ripe tomatoes,
and green bell peppers
as you do, my heart, by forgetting.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2009
I saw your tears,
I knew something was wrong,
I knew with my mother,
My son didn't belong.
I saw the pain that you held
I never wanted to leave you,
or ever have to say goodbye.
I chose for you to sleep safe in a bed,
instead of our car,
making sure you were fed,
was most important by far.
I wish I could take all the tears and
to correct all the wrongs and the mistakes that I made.
All you wanted was my approval, my affection and my love,
Yes, I know saying the words, just wasn't enough.
If I could go back in time
I would have put up a bigger fight
I would change it all today,
to make your life a little more kind.
I would be to you all, what a mother should be,
I love you with all of my heart,
I just wish you could see,
All I ever wanted was for my children to believe in me.
Copyright © Cynthia Logan | Year Posted 2008
I do not know?
Watching you struggle,
With the demons you hold,
Ignoring the life’s lessons,
And all you’ve been told.
Shuffled and dank,
You appear out of sorts,
Rocking; back and forth.
Eyes of distain glaring about,
Moans of displeasure,
As if there was doubt.
Selfish, and subtle,
Ingesting such filth,
Of body; and will.
Skin ashen grey,
Unable to determine,
Night time or day.
No hope for the future,
No desire to soar,
Nothing is more.
So sad how it started,
All in good fun,
Unshaven and dirty,
Copyright © Stacy Fair | Year Posted 2006
Now that he's without him
what is he working for
He had never truly realized
His dad drove him to want more
With working came acceptance
replaced emotions he concedes
and his father unavailable,
he kept his schedule filled with deeds,
When his father passed away
it broke him to the core
just learning he and his dad
had things in common they stood for
His dad had loved unconditionally,
despite his character flaws
and perhaps was thinking he'd call his son
when the winter thaws
but winters came and went
and neither reached to call
yet they truly loved each other
despite their voices being awol
His imperfect life with his Dad,
is now the oddest gift he treasures
He's vowed to be a father
for his sons to proudly measure
He says "I love you" to his kids,
and has being saying so for many years
then thinks of what he missed
with his Dad,
and it reduces him to tears
Nothing can make that emptiness go
he carries the lesson learned
Knowing now to speak his love out loud
not said to be returned
When a son loses his father
a part of himself fades into the light
as do the words he rarely stated,
like, "Dad, nice to hear from you tonight"
or picking up the phone to say,
"hi dad, did you just hear",
are calls he wished he'd made
while he wipes away a tear,
Now in a prayer he says, "I love you Dad",
to the heavens he kneels and pleads
and wonders if his fathers knows
that his love's so strong, it bleeds
"Dad, in case you didn't know it,
I love you more than I can say
I always tell my kids I love them
I learned that the hard way,
and in my heart,
you shall always stay".
Copyright © Barbara Tremblay Cipak | Year Posted 2007
He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms
Along the way you became the son he never had
He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t
You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him
You were there from the beginning
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know
Dedicated to close Family friend. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013