Years have passed since we walked this shore,
Kissed by countless waves and more;
Embedded are your footprints still—
No tide can erase, nor sands can fill.
Months have passed since you left this room,
Yet still there lingers your perfume;
Embracing each corner, a trace of your presence,
A cherished reminder of your enduring essence.
Weeks have passed since I last heard your voice,
A recording replayed in memory and choice;
Each word you spoke still echoes clearly,
Like a whisper breathed into my ear so dearly.
It was just yesterday when I last saw you,
Through a framed smile, your face I knew;
I can still trace each speck and line—
A face that will never fade with time.
Verse 1
My time passes by as the seconds
tick away
I page through the book of life
Pages of happiness
Pages of bitterness
Pages all through my life
Chorus 1
Hold me close
Hold me tight
Hold me through the lonely night
Give me peace
Give me harmony
Allow me to rest easily
Verse 2
The story of my life can be seen through the book
Hundreds of pages to be read
Stories of achievements
Stories of failures
Stories gained through my life
Chorus2
You’ve held me close
You’ve held me tight
You’ve held me through the lonely night
You gave me peace
You gave me harmony
You allowed me to rest easily
Verse 3
We all got to die its just a matter of time
How we will go no one knows
So be proud of what you’ve done in life
Be proud of who you are
Who you are
Chorus 3
Hold me close
You’ve held me closer
Held tightly through my loneliest night
Giver of peace
Bringer of harmony
Now please allow me to rest easily
Chorus
Hold me close
Hold me tight
Hold me through the lonely night
Give me peace
Give me harmony
Allow me to rest
To rest easily
As interlude of turmoil swerves
on my mind
leading me to reach for waning hours ,
there is a lull of evening's heave
grating within the ledge of isolation,
until gazing long enough
into darkness, I blink to recall
the revelries trapped in dried blossoms
of ardor now enmeshed ,entangled:
These haunting screams jut out
from a frame of hardened boughs
buried deep among frigid weeds-- and I wail,
stripping night's foliage of farewell
with knots of abandonment ...
and autumn loses its elegance,
those misted tears invading the glint
behind our past trysts --
that I learn how desolate this stained time
retreats when he fades away
like a ghastly ghost,
when the soul-stars dream and die...
knowing in fall's requiem,
I am no longer there.
For my PaPa, Whom I love very much.
I hold your heavy, calloused hand,
The one that shaped a thousand beams,
That built a life on solid land
And held together young men's dreams.
You're quiet now, your hammer still,
The stubborn strength at last at rest.
You fought the world with quiet will,
And gave us every day your best.
I smell the ghost of pine and cedar,
I see the dust upon your boots,
The faithful man, the steady leader,
Who gave this family sturdy roots.
At Tipton, you showed broken boys
How rough-cut timber learns to stand.
You built through patience, not through noise,
And led them with a craftsman's hand.
It's okay now to drop the rule,
To lay the heavy apron down.
You've finished every task and tool,
And earned your quiet, golden crown.
The Master Builder waits for you,
His workbench ready in the light.
Go find your Jewel, sweet and true—
Go rest, Papa. I Love You!
Goodnight.
I Was Here A While
I was here as the last breeze unfurls
To see the waves last few curls
What shall become of me afterwhile
Waiting for the moon I think I'll
Make my peace watching the ocean meet the sky
Pondering all those things that no one knows why
While the sun's last rays stand in the way
The moon has no place to play
I was here a while on this tiny sphere
Vibrating to the ocean"s roar so clear
In the earth's blink of her eye
Even a billion years after I die
To this marble I'll be dead for sure
In God's gift to the universe I'll remain obscure
A life of searching for where I fit
Maybe all I can do is imagine it
Not to forever live
Only mere moments does he give
Each a blessing
To be possessing
Beyond my time the future lays
And what may happen in those days
For I have no way to know
What may come and what may go
When my last breeze blows
And my final wave goes
All those moments of joy and pain
Will be lost like tears in the rain
The sad foliage of farewell each year
makes Summer's glory fade away too soon-
and letting go acknowledges the fear
of losing those young verdant leaves of June.
So blessed are Summer scenes that last full term-
complete their fullness by the start of Fall.
But often nature fails to reconfirm
next season's entry includes one and all.
And yes, dear Mom, your Summer went too fast,
without a chance to complete Autumn's scene.
At fifty-five, that Summer was your last;
you left us on September-day fifteen.
I live each season with the thought of you
beneath the leaves of Fall and Winter snow.
But come September, realize it's true;
you rest in peace of your last Summer's glow.
No one is home.
The address is returned to sender.
The user you desire to speak is no longer available.
To send a numeric page please press five now.
Ferment in the waiting room of life.
The catacombs of the mind are empty.
From the grave they will not rise.
The life you once knew is now fleeted.
You're out of time.
Exhale. Inhale. Exhale again.
False memory is not gospel.
Queue the piano, and bring in some coffee to go.
Crack a smile.
Adjust your tie.
Goodbye.
My Soul is Tired
Sometimes the darkness can swallow you whole to where there's no end in sight. The soul struggles and fights praying to be guided to what's right, but the darkness over comes and the soul becomes numb to all the pain and suffering you've witnessed throughout your life. Your soul reads like a novel every page engraved of your struggles. You often re-read those pages to make sense of it all praying the ending will bring fire to your soul. The pain, the suffering, the good and bad had penetrated your soul by all you've had. Your soul can only observe so much suffering before tiredness sets in and there is no light only darkness within. The soul must sleep and write the end of the novel of your life from beginning to end.
Unfold the threads that braved the storm and sun,
The frayed and faded red, the starlight blue,
Its watch is kept, its noble duty done,
Returned from distant seas where freedom grew.
No longer raised to catch the morning air,
Nor guard the quiet dark with loyal keep,
We gently fold the seams with silent care,
And yield the cloth to honorable sleep.
Let gentle embers take the sacred weave,
As burning threads ascend in quiet grace;
No cause for bitter tears or hearts to grieve,
For honor leaves an everlasting trace.
Though vanished from the halyard to the sky,
Its spirit lives in dreams and that never die.
"As the leaf of life sleeps upon my lips,"
I will see the "foliage of farewell."
"When the soul-stars dream and die,"
I see red leaves covering the fall trees.
"O fall, let this lore of love be the last,"
for I now see "I am the Eyes of Time."
The green leaves must change colors for the fall,
but "neither dusk nor dawn can delude me."
Wish you had someone better,
So dreams wouldn't shatter —
Of holding your desired moon,
I hope I leave your life soon.
So when I leave, don't call it loss,
Call it the tide that had to cross —
I hope I leave your life soon,
And you still get to keep the moon.
I walk the halls of ghosts.
Of all who came before.
The memories of the foundry floor
Reverberate in my mind.
I remember silhouettes of friends;
See them smiling there.
I see toolbags, slung up on their backs.
Hear their crazy laughs.
Their grunts of strain. Their eyes in pain. As bolts found home.
As my mind wanders these halls, still entrenched in work,
Thoughts loop large to previous days.
Wishing for days gone by—to reach and grab a piece.
Stuck in the here and now—more in back than in front.
Training new by old. Futures to reveal.
Fresh hands to shake, and smiles to share...
Toolbags of their own.
Perhaps a sign of times, as future comes and goes.
Perhaps a sentimental fool in hallways, I suppose.
- Debra
I hate good-byes.
There is nothing good
in them.
They are too permanent.
Ominous par excellence.
I said good-bye
to a friend once,
never saw him twice.
No, there is nothing good
in a good-bye.
I favour
farewell.
To numb the feeling,
I had to halt the healing.
For a moment I longed to confess,
The next moment, doubt made me suppress.
So I pulled myself back from telling —
I hope it's not your heart that's shelling.
Even if my silence hurts you,
Stay happy, stay free and true —
You deserve a love unbound.
Don't look back — don't turn around.
I've been trying to climb this mountain called life
But I keep tumbling down
My heart is broken and I am bruised inside
My strength is gone and I dont think I can carry on
No one knows or sees my wounds
I have learned to hide them deep in the heart of the mountain
I wonder if I will ever reach the top
Will I ever see a different and beautiful view
The valley has left my life distorted
Frowning ghosts haunt my memories
I have heard them say
When you reach the top of the mountain
What you see will shock you
It is all nothing but emptiness
Farewell Categories
Read wonderful farewell poetry on the following sub-topics:
colleague, college, death, goodbye, friend, funny, love, sailor, school, senior, students, teachers,
and more.
Definition | What is Farewell in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
adieu, goodbye, valediction, salutation, parting, sendoff, adieus, ciao, cheerio, adios, adieux, leave taking, bye bye, hasta la vista, have a nice day, so long, ta ta,