Narrative Farewell Poems

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Details | Narrative |
     I was wiping the dust off an old snow globe in the upstairs attic, when a mop of honey-blonde hair suddenly appeared through the wooden flooring.
     "I thought I'd find you here," said the voice, warm and feminine. It was a lovely contrast to the thoughts that bloomed inside my head. The little red Santa smiling gaily, his gloved hand forever frozen in a wave. Truth be told it was over a hundred degrees outside, and up here in this cobweb-ridden place (by God) was practically unbearable.
     But as I lightly shook the fragile keepsake I found myself dashing through the snow like I once did so many years ago. I heard the sound of high pitched laughter from afar, out in the sultry day (most likely the neighbor kids playing tag through a sprinkler-soaked lawn). But there, at that precise moment, I was taking the road before me, and singing a chorus or two.
     "You miss him don't ya?" the voice broke me out of my thoughts, and for a moment I just stared at her as if she had a left over piece of spinach in her teeth. I nodded quietly in the silence and rubbed the smooth curvature of the glass with my thumb. It somehow felt cold, as if winter wonderland was still trapped inside.
     I knew I hadn't stayed too long, though I knew my wife would be patient throughout this ordeal, however long it took. She didn't need to recite any famous sayings to pick me up, just her being there was enough. It was the unspoken truth between us, and it was always enough.
     "Cody and Angie will be downstairs when you're ready to head out."
     "I'm ready now. I was just doing a little cleaning up." It wasn't quite a lie. It was one of those statements we use to say one thing and mean the other. The attic was "okay", but I knew of more dire things in need of some organization.
     Beth went down the ladder first, naturally. Then it was me, a bit awkwardly, still holding the snow globe. We both came into the living room, where our children sat waiting. Cody was playing some handheld video-game in his Hawaiian swimming trunks. Angie was quietly giggling at something her friend said, via text. Her blue bathing suit was barely more than a strap, and I knew I was this close from losing it. But this was a happy day, so I let it slide, just this once.
     "Are you still not ready?" asked Angie.
     I looked down at my blue work jeans and buttoned-up t-shirt. My wife gave her a fierce look, as if willing her to take back what she said. It didn't really matter though ... my emotions were spent.
     "I was gonna change when we got there," I said, a bit defeated.
     "Whatever." She rolled her eyes and plopped her phone right there on the couch. I just stood there like a lifeless statue, while my family got everything ready to head to the local pool. My wife was as patient as a snail, but the kids bustled about as if they've been down here a lifetime. Cody was mad when Beth took the game-boy from his hand, just before some big important checkpoint. Angie was calling Beth completely unfair for not letting her invite Tom over to come swim as well. My wife told her, "This is a family event, no exceptions, and for Pete's sake, listen to me for just this once!"
     I just stood there, in quiet grief. Their voices were mere sounds, plastic and surreal, and I went along with it as if everything was alright. But it wasn't alright. The world was falling apart all around me, miraculously still turning, and I just stood there! Finally I reached for the doorknob, when I realized I still had the snow globe in my hand.
     I looked at it longingly, with affection, and it came to me. A slightly crazy idea. Not the kind where it's life or death, but the fact that it was a spur of the moment decision, it felt totally crazy. I placed the snow globe on the mantel above the fireplace, where the glass caught the sun just right and the jolly Santa shone a brilliant red.
     Allow me this simple pleasure, I asked God in silence. Let the neighbors gawk and smirk all they want. Let the kids think their father's going senile, thinking it's December and not August. I didn't care. I just watched the little flakes twinkle through out the water-filled dome.
     I displayed it proudly, knowing that good will, kindness and love were never out of season. So I picked myself up out of my gloomy state, got inside the car, and slid into the driver's seat. "Alright, let's go!" I said cheerfully, and everyone looked surprised.
     "Dad, is everything … okay?" asked Cody, from behind. But no answer was necessary. I just smiled, and looked across at Beth without a care in the world.
     And since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

First Published in Dual Coast Magazine Issue #3

NOTE: I've written a few short stories, but this one is special to me. It was well received by my family, and I was so excited to discover it was accepted by a magazine. It was my first non-poem to be published.

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |
My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss

April 14, 2013

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

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They lived a long time together.

They grew old together - they died.
Few to say “good-bye” - to see what they had become.

They drifted together in their own dreams
chasing their own stars
face to face with Angels.

Their together hearts filled with resplendent love
growing beyond the reach of others
who may have observed but they never understood.

Alone together -  only children and this song sings
that they were ever here.

Lovely she fell first, alone he died - together again.

Copyright © Mark Hounsell | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |


In unexperienced infancy
Mistakes seemly false, intending true
Adult features with grown up looks
To show many secrets which afterwards you come to know
And make fool in all sort of ways
You are a shadow of yourself

Many years on, the thoughts so tinctured with no reason
And craftiness exist in great perception
Standing up tall yet craddled in low esteem
Premonitions banging out loud, no ears to listen
Your inseparable companion whoose manifestation you ignorantly take
A pestiferous self you will later know
a shadow of yourself

Speakers lament the you in you is you
We get the code but some make no atone
A popular saying that everyone is unique and special
I doubt, for some are but specialist in the shadow of themselves

Permit me to yowl at the single ladies
Having geniue apathy for whom they really are
Taking peeks at their foggy look
Social media tinted with their glamorous artifacts
Seductively dressed to earn fb likes
Little flesh will turn them on, their fetish say
They forget you are addressed the way you dress
Having no respect for womanhood
Solace sister in practice
You are but a shadow of yourself

She's such a beauty to behold
Not so sure if it's love or lust
You sugar coated mouth presenting levels you don't worth
Even though you fake all just to impress her
The real you is a cloud of fine particle that can't be hidden

A life full of pride is a life of shadow
A mouth filled with lies sees no reality but shadows
The more we grow, the more we know
After a time of been just a shadow
We are now strong to walk alone for
We are not created a shadow

#honesty #sincerity #direction #integrity
are what makes you a YOU

Be real, for anyone aside You is already taken!

Kehinde Oluwaseun

Copyright © kehinde Oluwaseun | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |
On a fading stage of August
Lady summer reluctantly sheds
Her emerald robes of a dying season
As the blazing Autumn stands
In the wings 
Adorned in her gown
Of russet and gold
Awaiting her debut - 
Her opening night
Of an illustrious September

Copyright © valerie bellefleur | Year Posted 2008

Details | Narrative |
The day’s hot-the wind like a convection oven
Blows hot air in our faces.
My cap and gown insulates me
Baking me like a potato wrapped in aluminum foil
I desperately fan myself and look around
My eyes search for my peers and see;
The bros that survived school with me;
The others who shouldn't have;
The girls with memories already wet in their eyes;
The people I never met and will never know;
All desperately fanning themselves
In silence and in waiting.
We all are waiting for the same thing-
What's next to come.
For some it will be their names
For another a trip to boot camp
For many including myself- college
A couple can't wait to forget the tortures of high school
And a few will already be planning our high school reunion
because it was the best years of their life.
As I bow my head, not out of sadness,
but out of sheer defeat by the sun,
I scuff up my dress shoes in the clumpy grass of the field- 
that just finished another infamous drawn out lacrosse season,
I'll be thinking about the 4 plus years, 8 seasons,
worth of drilling and conditioning I did in that very field and on the surrounding track,
With a flash of ivory across my sweating face
I'll be thinking about
All the nooks and crannies
that I sanctioned for the intimate meetings of my girlfriends
The times caught and not,
All the heartbreaks and rejections,
The friends made, the best friends kept, and the many lost.
The drama, stupidity, and immaturity,
Everything that was and used to be.
And, all this time spent waiting-preparing
for this one moment
You can't help but remember it all
And with one, final sweet goodby-

Copyright © Nicholas Bello | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit

We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you

You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love

If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home

5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
6 a.m.
I saw your pain compressed in
Tourniquets and plungers.
Memories condensed to tears.
Cooling your hand holding bottles.
Dripping in puddles that flowed,
With white wind down glass tubes.
When you pressed for it,
I asked you;
Why you wanted too
So badly –
Maybe you did not hear me.
Then I asked -
For the attention?
But you were done talking.
“The affection is still free”.
I should try not to waste sentences.
At the hour of mid morning,
I remembered when I first saw you.
Walking up the sidewalk,
And I thought to myself:
Yes, I would - So I did.
Smiling ghosts made perfect faces,
Dancing off cigarettes on my front porch..
Yours ran to catch you.
As I watched with mine,
You walking home.
I pass a year and you in a store,
I heard you don’t cry the same,
Not like you used to.
You looked happy - I guess,
Or maybe it was, I hope you are.

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |

Poetry Soup has lost some of it's lustre lately There are probably a multitude of reasons But it matters not what the reasons are For me personally it is no longer the fun site It once was when I first joined A number of my favourite people Have disappeared for one reason or another Personally, I've been posting less frequently Because of health issues I've been dealing with Nothing serious, just adjusting to some age related changes Bottom line though is I'm thinking That perhaps the time has arrived For me to shut down for a while I'm a lifetime member so at some time down the line My name may pop up again So it's farewell for now but not goodbye © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
Their rending cries, when all is still, reecho in the moonlight;
They lie about in fitful slumber on the ground at noonlight,
Their virgin hair spread in the dust; for nothing really matters:
Who then will see their tangled locks, their dresses all in tatters,
The myriad trails of tears on dusty faces robbed of gladness,
The haunted eyes all swollen red, such depthless pools of sadness?
It seems that they could melt the rocks to tears of lamentation,
There being not a hope for fair Celena's preservation.

Both months have passed; the time has come. Celena must be going;
She wanders to her father's house, while dreading, fully knowing
The manner and the time of death; she sees the gory vision
Of being bound, awaiting fate for Jephthah's poor decision;
Her trusting eyes both fixed on his, both filled with untold torture;
The final sight her eyes will see before her soul's departure:
Yet still she presses on, determined, lest the Lord in fury
Rain down his wrath for promise broken in a deadly flurry
On father and his wife and daughter, nation, tribe, and village,
And curse their life and health and plenty, oxen, sheep, and tillage
With sword or pestilence or famine, plague or deportation;
Thus one, though innocent, must die to ransom all her nation.

Beside his doorway Jephthah stands, all torn with deep confliction
Between the hope that she'd been killed, or lost her path's direction,
And longing just to see again his daughter, but for fleeting
Bitter moments, and to chisel in his mind the soft, yet wild beating
Of her heart against his own. Alas! A heart cast down in sorrow,
Dread, and fear: a heart run short of precious moments which to borrow.
Look! There she comes; the tearful maiden, followed by companions;
Bedraggled garments torn, and faces streaked with dust of canyons.
The bravest of them turn away with looks of wretched terror,
Departing to their distant homes, while trembling footsteps bear her
To where he stands, and wordlessly in this, their final parting,
Embraces her, and feels each heartbeat softly, wildly beating;
While that of his is softly, wildly, e'er so slowly bleeding.
Then hand in hand they tread together to the highest hilltop;
In Jephthah's grasp a wicked knife and fresh-picked bunch of hyssop.

With leather cord he binds her tight and lays her on the altar:
He takes in hand the fearsome blade, but there his fingers falter;
For sapphire eyes, Celena's eyes, into his own are bearing,
And seeing hurt and pain and fear, his firm resolve is tearing.
Jephthah's visage wilts and quavers, as if he would save Celena;
Then she speaks, his brave Celena, dutiful and grave Celena,
"Father, do it! Slay me now! E'er resolve is gone forever:
E'er I break and cry for mercy; then you know that you could never
Do this deed of you required." He with one last look of dolor
Into eyes so wide and fearful, thrust the knife and crimson color
Spread and trickled from her chest. So there it was! The deed completed.
There one moment, gone the next. The only thing he really needed
Frittered on a foolish vow. His only joy, his only child
Pale and still, and in her place a torture aye unreconciled.
Shaking fingers set the purest, sweetest offering afire,
Half expecting, hoping, wishing, as the hungry flames grew higher
That his precious sleeping daughter waken from her dreamless slumber;
But, alas! She ne'er could waken. Now he must be of the number
Whose lineage drifts away with them; who know no satisfaction:
Thus Jephthah grasped the wicked blade with sudden thought of action
And cut a yard-long lock of hair before the flame consumed her,
Then faced away; he could not face the awful way he'd doomed her;
Instead he snapped the blade in two and fell down by the altar
Crying, "Take this shame away from me, O Lord! And do not fault her
For dying in this time and fashion; let the blame be solely carried
By myself: oh, let her spirit live in peace!" And then he buried
His weeping head into his helpless arms, and kept on sobbing
Until the flames had burnt to cinders, thus forever robbing
Him of the chance of ever seeing sweet Celena's features.
Then he arose and stumbled home, not seeing all the creatures
Who stood their ground in utter silence, crying for Celena;
Nor all the girls at every doorfront, sighing for Celena; 
Thus never knew but one man's heart was dying for Celena.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative |
hey there,
You have lighted up my world..
Now you're the one I am dreaming of
Dont you know,
I can sit here forever,
Just looking into your eyes?
The things I see there
Always take me by surprise
but I don't see you coming...
I see you standing there;
so close but still barely out of reach;
I want to be closer to you,
so I'm on my way...
I will be missing you
I will be missing the places we used to know..
wish i could carry you with me
I hope I make you a little happy too
I am not saying goodbye
I know I'll see you again
I would be crying in that strange city
and you wouldnt be there..
but I will carry on..

6.22.11 (my goodbye poem before I boarded the plane)

Copyright © Jeinara Odonio | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
I see an angel fly across the sky.
She stops and haloes Rigel,
    and looks down upon me,
         with answers I already knew.

Have you come to tell me no?
You will obey me but not him?
Then you come to tell the end.
You know the river that flows therein.

It pours to and from a woman,
    from the dew of a million mornings.
It’s course is a circle and has no end,
    with the wakes of her vessel,
        drowning these eyes a deeper blue.
And as the benevolence of her intrinsics
    reach to touch perfection,
         they define my reverence,
                writing perpetual psalms.
She is as bright and profound,
     as the stars are in the heavens.

And she is just as far out of reach.
You waste these days chasing a ghost,
      and have traded allotted years in envious choices.
No life in these torrents of sin.
Its waters breach seeking itself —boasting,
      a season’s colors fallen from where they had been.

Because she belongs
     to a Libertine who’s infidelities
           run the gauntlet of durations?
Some possession to control and degrade,
      her heart he keeps in a box of lies,
            using the brine of soul and sorrow,
                 to erode grooves into her face.
Broken times before him,
    mercy he always denies,
          tell me he does not turn and smile.
Reprobated armor unscathed by the arrows of virtue,
    a given blessing sacrificed to the deceiver,
           in this season,
                  he has forfeited her to me.

You can decide what is negated,
     despite what you read in the living truth?
Righteousness is always it’s own master,
     never at the service of your exceptions.
You trespass into her covenant,
     with no regard for the sacred.
Have you forgotten David?

In her eyes, I know who I see,
     and that fool is far from Uriah—
          Give her back what I need her to give me.
How long must she suffer?
Hanged by this obligation,
     she is yoked to a corpse,
           and his weight is killing her.

The Father’s grace is more than sufficient,
      in the temporal trials that forge the soul,
           but you damn hers in every embrace.
Words that have her stumble into your bed,
    have taken days she will now not see.
You have tightened iniquity’s noose
      around her heart, 
          tearing her soul.
It is you who is killing her.

Tell me what I feel is not a truth piercing my forever!
Tell me I am not sincere in days and dreams!
Tell me that I would forsake her!
Tell me my tears are false!
Tell me I am a liar!

You lied to yourself in believing
     that love and the sins of another man,
         could make you righteous in yours.
You are a thief that has betrayed
     the truth fully convicted in your soul.
Before you filled your heart with the blood of this woman,
     the world and favor were placed at your feet.
Selfishly holding one while trampling the other,
      recklessly sacrificing your own heart,
             before this season’s end.

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative |
Sometimes I feel like I am just slipping away.  Slide me in the water like a dead man at sea.  I can feel the cloth shroud surrounding and protecting me like a swaddled babe.  And as I sink into the murky waters I feel the cold shoulder of God shrug and say let him be.  And I pass into the afterworld in a sea of fear and discontent.  I struggle to open my eyes but I can’t see.  For I have been blinded by my stupidity.   I believed that God loved me but it was not to be for I had to love God before I could pass from this world to his.  And slipping into this darkness I knew that I was forever blind and food for the soulless bottom feeders of this world.  I can’t go back I can only pray that you read this and make amends before you make the mistake of a sailor to long at sea.

Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2015

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The Last Summer 

This is the last summer 
with all of us together; 
next summer we’ll all be 
somewhere else and hopefully 
we’ll see each other again someday. 
We walked down the forest trail 
we all wished each other farewell. 
Looking around I could see 
that we were all happy to be 
with each other one last time.

Now, we’re all in college 
gaining more knowledge 
so, so, so far away from each other. 
Oh how I wish it was still summer! 

In my mind,  I can still see 
all of us running happily 
we were so young back then. 
Sometimes I dream that when 
 graduation comes and we go on to the real world, 
we’ll all meet together again. 

Counting the summers away
I wonder if we will someday
go back to that forest trail 
where we all wished each other farewell. 
And everyday I look back to our last summer; 
laughing and crying at our fun times 

Graduation has arrived at last! 
many summers have passed 
since we first left on that summer day
and now it is the month of May. 

I haven’t seen any of the others
it has already been eighty-seven summers!
I decide to go back to that forest trail 
When I arrive, tears stream down my face.
For there are my friends all standing 
there and they too are crying.  

So again we walk down the forest trail,
even though we’re old and frail 
and I realize this is our final tale. 

Copyright © Dana Lasts | Year Posted 2014

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The Sinorians were all happy when the guests came
They welcomed the guests with warm hugs
The guests promised to show them heaven
They did take them to heaven
They built houses and cars for the Sinorians
They made them feel the taste of freshness and luxury 
They taught them to live a king’s life
Then it was the era of happiness, abundance and festivals
One fine day the guests left with a wicked smile
They didn’t wait for the farewell
It was too late when the Sinorians realize the valuables are gone
And they have nothing left there
By the time the seeds which the guests left behind started to grow
The seeds of war
The seeds of riots
Slowly those plants started grow 
The plants became trees in no time
And those trees started to hunt the Sinorians 
Some tried to run 
Some tried to swim
But the roots and branches of the plants were so deep and long
The Sinorians couldn’t escape from those
The houses were no help for them
The cars couldn’t take them too far
Kids drowned and their dead bodies were lying on the beach
Now they think of the good old days of desert life
The days before the guests came
The days they only had to love their women
They only had to play with their kids
The days they only had to worship the god
But those days were out of their reach 
They searched for the god everywhere
They couldn’t find him
The god was with the guests
Hanging on the walls of the palace made with the fortune of Sinorians
Everything they loved and worshipped was taken by the guests
The wicked smile on the guests face was so powerful and meaningful….

Copyright © Jay Dev | Year Posted 2017

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Chaka Zulu 

Dlungwana son of Ndaba!
the greatest warrior of all times
conceived out of wedlock by his mother Nandi and his father
voracious one of Senzangakhona
son of Nandi kaBebe, the daughter of a Langeni chief
born in Langeni territory at the Nguga homestead 
bayete inkosi

The scorpion of Phunga 
boy from  esiKlebeni homestead
who was cooked in the deep pot of Ntombazi
overcame Msikazi among the Ndimoshes
son of the Mhlathuze Valley and Langeni people
bayete inkosi

Mandla kaNgome
who moved to the Mthethwa people
grew up in the court of Dingiswayo
founded the Ntontela regiment
the impi in the iziCwe regiment
bayete inkosi

Axe of Senzangakhona
the warrior of Mhlathuze River
designer of the aniklwa
the king of KwaBulawayo, at the banks of the Mhodi,
in the Mhlathuze valley,
bayete inkosi

Young raging one of Nbaba!
the cause of Mfecane, Difaqane, Lifaqane
king of the centralized monarchy
builder of the Dukuza
undisputed, almighty ruler
bayete inkosi

Copyright © Yuhi Musinga | Year Posted 2015

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       My love, please forgive me for what I am about to do. I write this letter to you in candle light outside your chamber; it's late and I dare not disturb your royal slumber so I leave not you my last words and testament of my love. I can no longer keep my love for you a secret; there is is no veil big enough to conceal the way my heart constantly contracts for you. It is preposterous that your father, the King, thinks no servant is good enough for his daughters hand in marriage. If he only knew no other man will fall as passionately in love with you as I. Even in death, my heart will still radiate through earth and stone, and out my tombstone will seep, love for my Princess. I know your pondering what madness makes my tongue spill out these words that dribble off my lips. It's not my immagination that drives me into writhing this letter. While you depart on your journey through sleep, the castle walls are under relentless attack and will not hold much longer. The walls don't crumble to any treachery of man but to the behemouth claws of a fire-breathing beast. As this feather tip pen smears ink and stains this paper, the beast smears blood that stains the granite walls scarlet. Your father had all the gaurds abandon their post to defend the castle; however his efforts were futile. In one swipe of the behemouths unforgiving hand half the gaurds were crushed by scales stronger than any steel man could forge. The other half tried retreating but were instantly engulfed in Hell's inferno, which spewed out the beast's mouth with devastating destruction. It's not my intentions to frighten you or take your breathe away. The castle lay nearly in ruins and those who did not perrish, had enough wit to get far away from here as possible. So there won't be any help tomorrow. So when you read this in the morning you'll wake to the putrid smell of burning flesh, there will be a terrible sight of slaughtered men women and children. All that remains of your empire will be rubble and ashes spread throughout the vasness of your land. I will not be here in the morning. I can feel the heat from the flames rising up the stairwell. I pledge my life to you and I promise that your lungs will bill filled with air throughout he night. I'm going to slay the beast. If his scales are tougher than steel well then I'll jut have to stab him from with in. Please don't think of this as madness or disregaurds of caution. I will walk up to the beast and when he opens his jaws to eat me I will leap into his mouth and stab his heart through his throught. I must go now the soot is coming up and burning my eyes and filling lungs. I'm sorry, I'll be the one to break our promise. I will not be able to be with you forever... you can count on my love to be there, even in death. Farewell... My Princess. 

Copyright © Steven Medellin | Year Posted 2014

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Theres a very simple thing in life, and its called love. Love conquers all. Love has conquered me, finally. Conquered me by knowing, feeling, living unconditional love. 

Born into love, live it, breathe it, fall in love, fall out of love, love has conquered you.

I thought my love for you conquered the love you didn’t have for yourself or the love you thought did not exist. And briefly it was there. My love has been twisted, abused, assaulted and antagonised. I thought this was to my detriment, but it is to my growth. 

My love, my truth, my honesty has been distorted beyond recognition where by I no longer recognise you. 

This is where I jump ship and leave you with the memory, memories that are. 

Ups and down, in and outs, I have set sail for whatever comes my way.

Love is not measurable, love is not sex, love is not man or woman or love for one or other. Love is love. Love is knowing. 

This is not love, any more. So saddens me to say.


Copyright © Paul Dollard | Year Posted 2015

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Copyright © Margaret Modlik | Year Posted 2010

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As dawn come
As sun rise up
As cold air embraces me
The time I thought I’ll be happy
Full of expectation
Full of dreams
The dancing leaves
The ripen fruits
The Flowers as they bloom
Gives me hopes, dried my tears
The singing of the birds
The outcry of the poor
The echo of his voice
Children’s Laughter as they enjoy
The sweet smile of my mother
The flapping of roaster’s feathers
The sweet scent coming from the kitchen
Washes away my heartaches and pain
The sweet smile in each person I’d meet
As I walked along the crowded Street
Searching for his face
Widen my pace
Nothing I have seen
Words remain unspoken
As sunset passed by
A time when stars start to glimpse up in the Sky
“Cause only my pillow knew
Too late, Regrets follow.
Hated this unspoken words
Striking the very core of my heart like swords
Too late to say
“Cause he’s far away.
Summer starts
A time he departs
As he lay his head back down
And sleep safe and sound
 Rest! That is FOREVER!
Picture is my only souvenir
As you laid down in a coffin
Due to Tremendous accident
Thank you, my dear Boy Friend
I’ll treasure you ‘till the end

Copyright © Joan Iligan | Year Posted 2015

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I loved you once years ago 
Our passion was divine
Could see our life together forever
But instead I could not compete
For your lover was a bottle.

I tried all I could do 
Being your wife and supporting you
But no matter how hard I tried 
No matter what I couldn't compete
With the liquid you chose instead

It's funny how alcoholics live two lives
One is surface for those to see
The other the demon inside 
Fighting to overtake the good
All the while hiding sipping alone

Codependence is also an evil
Depending on others for how to feel
Walking on eggshells became a cover
So as not to stir the tipping canoe
In the end it did not matter

For then you chose your battles to leave
Easier then to give in, just said "go"
No more arguing was glad to have you go
For life with addiction is weary
And heavy on the soul

I could not watch you kill yourself
The love we had was dead
Did not want our child to see 
Up close and personal 
His father failing at life.

To watch a loved one kill themselves
Slowly with a bottle
Is like watching a tree slowly die 
First the leaves change color 
Then they fall to the ground

With alcohol it's just the same
First the color starts to leave
The brightened eyes that once were there
Turn bloodshot and empty
Desire is replaced by need

Nothing is sacred to someone whose addicted
Possessions,home, family all are second
Jobs come and go over many years
People come in an out their lives 
And families disappear. 

Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver | Year Posted 2013

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Sa kisame ng bahay, itong si Butiking Pasas
Ay minsang nakipaglaro sa kanyang mga KAIBIGAN
Kanyang inaliw, mga pakpak na kumikinang, pumapagaspas
Binola ang bawat lipad na kay panglaw
Habang sa isip, may nabubuo’t nakaambang kalokohan
Tila naiinggit sa kanilang kakayahan

Nang hindi na sila nakatingin, tumalikod lang saglit
Nagsimula ng ibuka kanyang mapinsalang bunganga’t bibig
Nilantad matatalas na dila, na may malaasidong laway
Na tutunaw unti-unit sa kanilang katauhan

At sa isang kisap mata, dila’y pumulupot, sumalaksak, 
Nilunok, nilamon sila ng buong-buo, walang kamalay-malay 
Sila’y kinitil, nalinlang ng mga matatalim na SALITA,
Kawawang mga KAIBIGAN…
Kanilang magagandang LAMANG LOOB…
Tuluyan ng nawasak, nalusaw

Copyright © jhucel del rosario | Year Posted 2014

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Life is filled with Hardships and Moments.
Ones we'll remember and some will forget.
It matters not how it happens or why.
But that we enjoy what life has to offer.
Even though the going does get tough,
and living isn't easy.
Success will be and continue to be
the Key to life.

Copyright © Tanner Anderson | Year Posted 2013

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Mother-nature appears and disappears as she desires, just sheer reminders of her omnipotent power
A distant rumble high in the sky, we know she's coming but we know not the hour

Securing all windows and locking all doors, or did we forget?
Her formidable presence is not to be questioned yet the hour is no time to fret

You see, precautions and faith must abide fervently in the mind and heart
Each must do his and her part to ensure a secure start

Dark clouds, thunder, rain and window shattering winds
In the moment; mind, body and spirit all disarray, not knowing when the madness will end

Shhhhhhh !!!!  Now peace!  Yes, sweet peace and calm all abound
Remnants of what used to be liberally laying around

A suspended moment in time as we stand, look and reflect over this catastrophic state
Trying to pick up the pieces but as we look around we see that the damage is far too great

A glimpse of sun coyly peeks out from the clouds sending another ray of hope
Healing and learning after the storm, just praying and hoping for a brighter scope

Copyright © Stewart Watkins | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |
But now, I wonder "Will I have the bravery to follow?"
Demise shall follow if I am to attain redemption and cleanness of my sins that tarnish my soul.
Sometimes, I cling to yes, sometimes I cling to no.
When the dark clouds blur my sight, I ask myself "What is worth living for?", some believe in god, some in money or in even a more mundane wish.
I lack this one thing, I lack the purpose that would impulse me forward. But then, I speculate "For me, must be love", but what is love? I do not know, I am an strange to it, perhaps this wasn't reserved for everyone.

Well, one thing is right, my passing will not be mourned nor missed. It will go like the wind, now here then gone and noone noticed a thing.
Many leaves were shaken, many tears soiled the ground, yet, none of this was spotted by anyone.

To the people I did wrong "I am sorry, please, do forgive me".
To the people that hates me, hate me more, be genuine with it and be the fuel of this endeavor. Hurt me more, make me bleed, cut open my flesh, as he once did when I was an infant, paint the wall with my crimson tint...
Make me regret to have been born, actually, this will require little effort, since I already regret that.
My mind is set, termination is the way to go if I desire to do something good, at least once, in this life.
No hope can be spied nor a glimmering light to lead this one to safety.

In a colorless world, only with shades of black and gray, thoughts of demise haunts me day after day.
I see the people around me, at work, on the the streets, everywhere and I cannot help but to feel disgusted and out of place and helpless.
I am tired of pretending, behind my mask, I weep, behind their masks, they laugh at me.
I am tired of being fed by deceiving tales and to feed other with my lies.
The lies... It is everywhere, one must tread lightly between them, or else will fall their prey.

Copyright © The First Born The First Forgotten | Year Posted 2012

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Her eyes, though once bright, are cloudy,
shrunken and fragile the form
that long was brimful of vigor
and a will to outlast life's storms.
She stares past a blank horizon
through a door that I do not know;
the colors she sees are memories,
scents and sounds of the long ago.

A kaleidoscope of faces
turns merry-go-round in her mind;
while trees out her window whisper
soft lullabies long left behind.
The sound of my cheery greeting 
draws her back to this metal room,
away from a creaking rocker
and her mama's sweet, gentle croon.

It is not my name she whispers
as I bend down to kiss her cheek,
but a name more dear than ever
mine was is the name that she speaks.
"Papa," the feeble voice quavers.
I am no more a part of her world;
the grandma that soothed my sorrows
is once again Papa's wee girl.

© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

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The rustling sound of rain, heard through the window. Dust covered histored books that I tended to clean. A small forgotten letter fell by, a lost letter, was never sent... For my loved one;
“Oh how I cannot forget the smell of your breath, the scent of your hair surrounding my head as I bend and touch your sweet lips with my own. How I cannot forget the tight grips when we locked fingers standing close together in the lonely rain as you heat my body with the warmth of your chest. How I cannot forget your twinkling whispers in my ears sending shivers towards my feet, and your fair giggles with shiny eyes as you come across looking at me. How our lives were intertwined with heavenly love and then torn like a small leaf thus crumbling into ashes and dust. 
Not a day passed by since you met your fate have I not swallowed my tears into my guts… farewell my love, farewell my one. I hope you fare better in heaven than I do, down here, on earth."

Copyright © Sami Helbaoui | Year Posted 2013

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For all those sins & reckless lies. For all the time and tears and sacrifice
And all his honest words too late, too shallow now to vindicate 
A futile bid at any rate 
And far too little to suffice

She saw the time that passed her by,
Too weak to look within and wonder why
Had torn apart and wrought to dust
The little things which earned his trust. 
That bruised their lips and stirred her lust and left him burning in reply 

But now it seems just far too real
And strange there isn't more beneath to feel
A numbness spreads and quells his heart, together seems now so apart
The ending once again, the start
The ever spinning wheel. 

Copyright © Christian Howes | Year Posted 2016

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They found her today, curled around a dirty blanket under an overpass.  The coroner estimated her age at 78.

She had been an aged, unhealthy homeless woman, living on the streets, seeking sustenance from whatever source presented itself. 

While alive, when seen, most passersby had turned away in disgust; Youths would yell: “Get a job”, or hurl insults at her.

But … who was she … who had she been …?

--=< * >=-

She abandoned her dreams at an early age, and elected to follow the dreams of the man she thought to be her champion and life long companion.  More than once she uprooted her life and accompanied him in pursuit of some passionate dream he embraced … and did her best to help him find it.

The “star” on which she had hung her hopes and her entire future abandoned her, with their child, in a bus station in Georgia.  She was 28 at the time.

Wear of the years and hardships had taken their toll on her, both mentally and physically.  The times and opportunities had passed in which she could have engaged in furthering her education, and it was these things she had put aside to follow “his” dreams.

It was not she who failed, but rather, the “star” she had believed in.  The mirror of hope and aspiration she had longingly gazed into when she was fifteen, he had shattered.  A lifetime was lost, and its’ shell she wore as tattered rags.

She did those things she had to do to survive, and her child, taken from her, was somewhere in the morass of government bureaucracy, assuring she’d never see him again.

There were days of solitude where white tracks on her soiled face could be seen from her eyes to her chin, as the legacy of her memories.

Her days were filled with foraging.  Her eyes had been dulled by disappointment and defeat.  Her body was dirty and scarred.  Hope to her remained only as a memory of a word of no substance or possibility. She was completely void of any expectations and lived from day to day driven only by the most basic of instincts … it’s what’s left when dreams are callously destroyed.

I was too late, but, today, at last I had found my Mom.	

Copyright © Jack Clark | Year Posted 2015

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hearing the news
taken aback

feelings mix
a groggy mess
a confused


as though
a robot

packing my bags

saying goodbye
tears streaming
down frowning cheeks

loading up
suitcases in
boxes in
everything in

key turned
motor going
backing up
looking back
for just

gravel crackling
worn tires
worn souls

paved road
passing under
then suddenly
and then

it's gone

there is simply

nothing but the lonely beat of a hurting heart.

Copyright © Morgan Pontious | Year Posted 2016