So nice and sweet to remember
Playing with my younger brother
With mom’s constant reminder
To be a good sibling and sister-
As his older sister, she said
Learn to give way, instead
If his mood turns flaring red
Wait patiently, don’t go to bed.
Hug him and speak softly
Share and show fairness lovingly
Use magic words, act humbly
He’ll definitely follow, learns slowly.
Mom’s teachings were effective
No rivalry, rapport was highly achieved
Siblings’ closeness bloomed, heaved
But he passed away so early, I grieved.
If I disobeyed and remained stubborn
He didn’t enjoy life with me…so forlorn
No strong bonds, fun, travels and so on
No joyful memories with loved ones.
Same Roof
We shared a roof, a table, the same four walls,
and still I lived on the far side of a door
no one had thought to knock on.
Their voices filled the house each morning,
familiar as the kettle, the taps, the stairs,
and none of it ever reached me.
I was in the room. I was not seen.
You can stand in a doorway for years
and be furniture to the people you love.
They were meant to be the ones who knew me
before I knew myself,
who could read the weather in my face.
Instead I learned to fold my heart small,
to keep it in a pocket
where no one would ask what it weighed.
I have grieved the things that happened.
That grief has edges. It has names and dates.
The other grief has none.
It is the hush where the conversation should have been,
the hand that never reached across,
the people I sat beside for years
and never met.
I was not only mourning what was done to me.
I was mourning the child who kept waiting to be known,
and the closeness
that never had its chance to exist.
she had the dress
the ring
the future
she had dreamt what their life would look like
a house filled with laughter
and beautiful memories
and suddenly the future she spent years imagining
because something she had to grieve
she never walked down the aisle
she never heard him say I do
she became a woman
who grieved not for him
but the woman
she was supposed to become
Matt. 23: 37-39
The dove sings from a heart full of love
I grieve from a heart full of grief
Can two join to be one
Yes, God's son loved and grieved
He said, city that kills
How I want to put you
In My care, but you would not
A victim of abduction, abuse and terror
At six, a sweet daughter and innocent girl
Parents grieved with fountain of tears’ blur
Sought for justice in screaming anger.
Thousand watt smile radiated amidst her wounds
Reassured her parents that she'll be fine soon
With firm belief that God will cuddle her on His throne
As she joins the choir of angels and watch them around.
Held their hands and casted them her last thousand watt smile
Before her last breath, there were sparkles in her eyes
Expression of gratitude before parting for paradise
A place beyond those stars, far for her in just few miles.
slow motion osmotic penetration
on an as is where is basis received
ushers mood of joyous celebration
with path of bliss magnetism being weaved
that the demise of ego be not grieved
so poised in peace as dweller of the void
our aura glistens pure and unalloyed
Tribute to Eileen Manassian
Eileen's last poem was in November of 2025.
I'm worried, concerned, and grieved about her safety.
According to her bio, she was teaching at Middle East University in Beirut, Lebanon.
From her bio: The war in Lebanon...bombs landing all around, nights spent in bomb shelters... has also scarred me to some degree.
I grieve.
Because the air strikes have intensified. And armed conflicts, civil unrest, and terrorism have hit her city.
Eileen has been in the middle of the crossfire, with the US-Iran war compounding the volatility of her life.
I grieve.
I miss the vibrant Eileen, who would bring blossoms to Poetry Soup.
And pray for a happy outcome and reunion.
Note: Since I have already entered a tribute in Constance's contest, this poem here is filed under goodwill.
connie pachecho
7/3/26
Tonight I am pulling out a box of pictures
Lookin’ at’em one by one
As I am sippin’ on my elixir
I reminisce about the day we begun
Tonight we’re having a get together
They’ll arrive one by one
We’ll be sippin’ on our favorite beverage
And we’ll be missin’ one
Tonight after saying goodbye to you
We’ll be missin’ you separately
Some will cry some will sigh, some will just do
We’ll be missin’ you desperately
As leaves blow over and time ages
And one by one the years go past
We all have grieved in different stages
And the pain has left at last
We’ll find you in a gallery of memories
Where we’ll think of you a lot
One by one each prayer released
Our most intimate thoughts with God
There once was a fairy of light,
Who stitched broken stars through the night.
She danced where hearts grieved,
And taught souls deceived
That love still returns after flight.
Beneath silver wings dipped in blue,
She gathered lost dreams that once flew.
From tears left unsaid,
She bloomed roses instead—
And whispered, “The dawn waits for you.”
Though forests grow silent with pain,
And memories fall down like rain,
Her luminous art
Mends each shattered heart—
And makes hope feel alive once again.
When I lay down at night,
All I feel is such a fright,
Never quite alone, just out of sight.
To be alone — how is it, you may ask?
Expectedly, it's not an easy task.
Do I suffer or simply wear a mask?
Before I say, you must know,
Ultimately, it is something I cannot bestow.
Tomorrow comes far too slow.
Not once did I say I am losing the war,
Even though I'm hurting within my core,
Vacant soul, punishing me — nothing to restore.
Eventually, I know my time will come,
Respectively taking me, and I feel numb,
Embracing the freedom from others' scum.
Neglecting to see the life I've lived,
On top of that, I feel deceived.
Undoubtably, stuck — and I grieved.
Grieving throughout my days, don't call my bluff.
Horribly wanted, but never enough.
On cool rainy days
I like to slow down
to millions of droplets
kissing the ground
The dry thirsty Earth
is quenched and relieved
from the hot and dry season
by which she was grieved
The rhythmic raindrops
massaging my mind
satisfy my soul
and help me unwind
On cool rainy days
with a hot cup of tea
and a pen in my hand
I'm finally free
To write down my thoughts
in meter and rhyme
on cool rainy days
so peaceful, sublime
© Mike Wise
5-7-26
Visual pleasuring
Of a more active
And not at rest, dead-looking
Definable sort.
One's lost soul fragments
A traumatized youth's
Sea's, land's wet and wild torments
From out them retrieved?
Or so drawn, for it, so grieved?
Nor that. Least not now!
Quite the opposite. O'er wow
Deities who cavort.
A grieved pace in a meadow
Haunting last whilst a breeze flows,
Drenched in dried, feverish sweat
Etched on furrowed memories.
A labyrinthine weak heart
Escorted out in the dawn
Alone in an unfeigned world.
I've been to dark places
way off in the weeds
where many a devil
does devilish deeds
I spent so much time there
familiar it grew
in search of its secrets
known only by few
And what I discovered
and what it revealed
had come with the price
of my soul to yield
And thusly surrendered
the darkness received
while leaving me empty
and lonely and grieved
It vied for attention
since I was a child
by implanting thoughts
that were utterly wild
Such thoughts that no children
should ever have known
lest forces unseen
had purposely sown
The darkness grows darker
the deeper you go
and far more alluring
it's wonders to show
Any issues encountered
are handled within
by the blackest of means
with a chuckle and grin
I've been to dark places
I know where they are
Just off the main highway
and not very far
The people encountered
within that domain
whose twilight existence
is deathly profane
They beat on the living
but they can't beat the dead
who no longer suffer
for their daily bread
For the dead have no trouble
they create no more spark
and they certainly aren't
afraid of the dark
© Mike Wise
3-19-26
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
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