240.
Prayer When Bereaved
Oh Father God, I am bereaved
How many times I have grieved
Over my losses and misfortunes
I'm longing for long-lasting boons
Oh Jesus Christ, I am bereft
Seems none on me is left
I almost lost everything
I'm longing for great something
Oh Holy Spirit, I am at loss
Too heavy is my cross
Too little gifts I possess
I'm longing for overflowing gladness.
-01/05/2014
(Dumarao)
*My Prayer Poems Collection
I wasn’t asked if I was ready
No answers to my “Why?”
I had only just said hello
When I was forced to say goodbye.
I may love you, once love is all I have;
someday, with tears I'll wash away your grave:
till then I curse you since you died at last,
leaving me broke, alone, going nowhere fast.
Despite young Cupid, I won't bring you flowers;
or bathe you in dripping-wet, sparkling showers
of worship; or grant you the gold of chaise,
that gilts your summit-peaking thrones of maize.
Instead, I'll bring you a wreathe of barbed wires;
flame it! like a thousand nuclear pyres;
hang it upon your cruel member, like so!
And watch it burn, then cauterize, it slow.
Selfish Lover! You stole from me life's measure
of passion and unfathomable pleasure.
For that, therefore, I've the evil delight,
knowing your digit stands no more upright!
M' Sweetheart, after six long years of waiting
I have realized you will not come back again.
O, Heavens! Burn with sorrow and bright lightning
For in your Auspices, the better
Part of Me
Doth Still Abide
No pain, no sorrow, can keep you with me,
Though I try,
Longing after hopes
That should not be
Espoused
Or else I'll drown
In the Very Ocean of my Sweat
And Tears
I will Abide in Thee
Until I come
Until I come to find the other side
Of Sorrow's Sea.
Having known scoundrels, like these up close,
Happily using your monies on which to dine
Family coffers stuffed, be they duly accursed!
High cost yes,your money buys them fine wine.
Why stand you chairlesss,at graveside service,
As these pretentious mongrels at you,widely smile.
Are you not aware of their most greedy malice?
You, the mourning,blind,unaware of their unholy guile.
Let serving all the grieving, be their primary practice.
4/15/2023
Sweeping your footprints why do you lay strewn?
Each dust hums your sweet harmonious tune.
Will you, dear, if possible, come back soon...?
Sweeping your footprints why do you lay strewn?
You have been, darling, my life's greatest boon.
Weren't we joyous till the previous noon?
Sweeping your footprints why do you lay strewn?
Each dust hums your sweet harmonious tune.
Why you're in a hurry, to go away?
Blossoms of your plants sway to tell you: stay!
Fly-home of birds seems to delay today.
Why you're in a hurry, to go away?
To our growing baby, what would I say?
How would I pass the minutes of each day?
Why you're in a hurry, to go away?
Blossoms of your plants sway to tell you: stay!
Each one who comes here should go away, sure.
To the deadly sting of death, there's no cure.
Could anyone decline death's tricky tour?
Each one who comes here should go away, sure.
Death, the way to true life, I know, is pure.
Yet, without you, dear, I feel insecure.
Each one who comes here should go away, sure.
To the deadly sting of death, there's no cure.
27 January 2023
Waking up not knowing how to feel
A friend that I haven’t known for years
The unexpected news not seeming real
Sadness but vacant of tears
Not wanting to stay in, but knowing I will
A moment of time personified by my deepest fears
Waking up not knowing how to feel
Time passes, unlike the pain
The world is bright but my mind is grey
Constantly feeling the same
Waiting for the end of the day
Thinking of the name
Struggling to cope but there’s always a way
No one but life itself to blame
I’ve heard all the words people like to say
Time passes, unlike the pain
B word poetry contest 27/1/23 Constance La France
The ice-cold sun was hid
Behind a bank of clouds that came unbid,
Ugly freezing winds blew
Birds felt it all and flew
No place to rest, they knew.
The black cypress did their shelter forbid.
Beneath, lanes clearly showed
All tombs and snow covered the dead's abode.
Alas, their days were timed,
Their heavy hurdles climbed,
Their dirges were long chimed,
In heaven's eternity, they now rode.
Despite all I hunted,
The one tomb where peace and my love were granted.
I knew the number and lane,
Cold wind numbed not the pain,
Bereaved from my love was not a pleasant feeling
Especially when I heard the dirge bells pealing.
Saw her lovely photo,
Her sweet pale smile, and eyes were soft like a doe.
On the old tomb, I saw
A plaque, I stared in awe,
Her writing, without flaw:
That she loved me always, she had to show.
Placed 1
27 January 2023
Writing Challenge - B Word Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
You heard it ring a thousand times before
However, this time it seemed like something more
You dreaded picking up the phone
As if you knew the unknown
After that dreaded phone call
You just wanted to fall
A piece of your heart empty
You didn’t want others pity
God took you breaking us apart
While reaching in and pulling out my heart
How can our Savior be so cruel and brutal
Sparking my refusal
Letting go of one we held dear
Drowning our sorrows with beer
Some say it’s easier with time
Meanwhile I feel like a mime
My words in my head
Seemingly, my tongue made of lead
Calling for help seems fruitless
As words are empty and useless
I should feel happy having loved you so much
For if I didn’t, my heart would go untouched
Remembering you brings tears to my eyes
Knowing you have met your untimely demise
So many things left unsaid
I have them embedded in my head
No more waving goodbye
Instead, looking up at the sky
For now you are gone
While I am withdrawn
Asking myself, will the pain ever ease
As I cry on my knees
If the pain ever goes away
I’ll be okay
It shall always remain such a shame,
That even though in a way we were all to blame.
We were not there, even at the very end of you
Little to none tried to help with what you were going through.
It was never because we did not care,
Only because we could not always be there.
Then again, seemed you never left your soul bare,
So we now live in regret of how your death will always be unfair.
Quick to forget the Off-Duty Grant
That makes bosses not rant
Easily treating An Observer,
To a levity of A Grieving Server
All stops are boldly pulled out
Like irritable errors struck out,
All restrictions kicked aside
Or left to their time bide!
It’s a being who has glimpsed obligations
Vain Boss would never understand,
Their delayed handling with implications
He might at last not withstand.
One doesn’t tears check for a Great Symbol
While on Earth virtuous and humble;
He who had to part with a noble life,
Forthwith ending a worthy strife …
Liable to be admonished
And sometimes stiffly punished
For a daring of The Bottlenecks
That a good file wrecks
Is the Employee in bereaved time
Not bothered that office clocks also chime.
When your words were sweet and real,
Spurting love, care and heed.
You were in love, head over heel.
Hiding the fondness beneath,
Love blossoming into a tree on a heath.
Alas, the tree began to wither,
Dry up and lose all the vigour.
For there was no more the love,
That watered the roots from the cove.
The bark now turned brown
Full of cracks from the strife and frown.
It is but a matter of time,
The mighty tree shall turn to dust and grime.
Yet, the leaves fly around,
In a hope to search and hound,
In memories shall they bound.
For you will never find me around.
When your guilt shames you down,
And you finally come around.
In loving memory the saga goes,
or so they say when feint reminder culls a piercing interlude.
Remnant of an unfinished sentence,
broken shadow haunt awash with grief,
snapshot at the edge of a well.
Parachute of blinding insight on queue or on song,
paper mache angel deep within.
Verses, scrolls, smudges from that pink enamel claw,
whose back fold clip appearance left one reeling,
like some
tree house dweller rattled by a swooping hawk.
Gimlet sipping voyageur
adrift on ice pack yacht,
in need of solace,
yet wishing it to the bottom of his rusty bucket list.
Fragile human being torn apart,
funeral bound,
that once upon a time surreal biker skirting mountains.
A priori stunt man metaphysically divine on rocky ledge,
dare devil prayer when it suits.
Feat performance activist a sleight of hand jester,
yet despite this vapid mask of dumb amnesia,
he wanders blindfold down
an alpine peak while chasing after dim and distant keepsake
Date posted :31st January 2022
When I found you in bed, you had just died.
I wept; my grieving lodged inside my head;
you clearly were gone—I was horrified!
As you lay still in bed, utterly dead,
the huge shock I felt could not be denied,
as tears gave way to muffled sobs and dread.
Mother, I always had longed for your love:
you loved the one who never for you wept.
When your tired spirit had risen above,
I knew my tears were hopelessly inept;
meanwhile, we all assembled to remove
your slumbering corpse as it quietly slept.
Hours passed when we all gathered for your wake,
a solemn event that was neither good
nor sane as we all tried (for pity's sake!)
to offer our condolences if we could.
You laid there like marble—no more awake.
A victim of fate, I felt like deadwood.
The final day arrived: the ceremony
was on Sunday, which was dark and sunless;
dream-like, bizarre, and strange, all was eerie.
Distraught, I was overwhelmed and bloodless!
As they gave your last rite and obsequy,
I, too, died more than words could ever express.
Each year on December the first,
I remember for twelve years ago,
my mother, my wonderful mother
gave our family a terrible blow.
She passed away quietly at home,
and I made this solemn decree,
Each year on December the first,
I’d take flowers to the cemetery.
This year while at her graveside,
in midst of my own silent prayer,
I heard a wail in the distance,
and saw a man kneeling where
he held his hands to the heavens,
while he looked up into the sky,
and shouted out time after time,
“Tell me why did you have to die!”
It was obvious he was in need,
of comforting with his ordeal,
for I had not witnessed before,
the way this man seemed to feel.
So quietly I walked to his side,
where still he looked up to the sky,
and shouted out time after time,
“Tell me why did you have to die!”
On his shoulder I placed my hand,
while he cried that comment again,
I thought maybe talking might help,
to ease him through part of his pain.
I said to him “Was it your child?”
Still crying “No” he shook his head,
so I asked then “Was it your parent?”
“No, my wife’s first husband!” he said.
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