Long Daughter death Poems
Long Daughter death Poems. Below are the most popular long Daughter death by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Daughter death poems by poem length and keyword.
Take me back to my days with you
Are you listening to my prayers O’ Mother
I want to rush into your arms and play
To see you lift me like a feather
I sneak into your clothes like old
You scold me and fight like a child
I crib and cry, you take me in your lap
Sharing with me, little stories with claps
Where are you, My Dear Mother
I glance up at the starry sky
You cannot leave me behind O Mother
This place is hell, I want to fly
Why do those live, who dump their child
Yet call themselves Mothers
Why should you leave when I need you
You cant do this to me O’ Mother
Tomorrow when I will awake,
Will I not hear your gentle tone?
I think not for my heart will break,
With thoughts that are still so unknown.
Oh, tell me, Mother, tell me now!
Please give me answers that I seek
So tell me why and tell me how
Now who will listen when I speak?
Elegy for a little girl, lost
by Michael R. Burch
. . . qui laetificat juventutem meam . . .
She was the joy of my youth,
and now she is gone.
. . . requiescat in pace . . .
May she rest in peace.
. . . amen . . .
Amen.
NOTE: I was touched by this Latin prayer, which I discovered in a novel that I read as a teenager. I decided to incorporate it into a poem, which I started in high school and revised as an adult. From what I now understand, “ad deum qui laetificat juventutem meam” means “to the God who gives joy to my youth” but I am sticking with my original interpretation: a lament for a little girl at her funeral. This was my first translation. Keywords/Tags: Latin, translation, elegy, eulogy, epitaph, lament, prayer, hymn, joy, sorrow, grief, requiescat, pace, rest, peace, amen, death, funeral, grave, girl, daughter, sympathy
"Is that you Jane?"
(An old woman's voice from room 12A,
echoing down the hall.)
The room is cold,
and I feel old.
Lord,
kindly send
one young woman
that can see...
that one day she will be
just like me.
I have lived a life worth living,
the good parts and the bad.
The memories both,
happy and sad.
Now I am here,
at the last...
the world still moving
way too fast.
I can not take care of myself,
anymore,
but my daughter
is gone
... all wrong,
in the song.
It is the way of the day,
to leave tradition behind,
to let their own light shine.
Yet in the end, it will send
a message echoing back...
and no one
at all will care
anymore.
It was on this day
December the 21st, 1988
Pan Am Flight 103
Would learn of it's fate
Blown out of the sky
For all the world to see
Two hundred and fifty nine people
Rained down on me
My country Scotland
Lockerbie town
The falling of life
In deathly down
This 747
Model 121
Laid-en with fuel
The horror's begun
Argentinian, Belgium
Bolivia too
Canada, France
Sat beside you
Germany, Hungary
India as well
Hey, Herr
The flights going well
Ireland, Israel
Italy flew
To go to the States
All feeling brand new
Jamaica, Japan
Philippines seated
Family toil
Families depleted
South Africa, Spain
Sweden in flight
JFK
Will not be tonight
Switzerland, Trinidad and Tobago
The United Kingdom, United States
All of the above
On this December date
We also remember
Eleven on the ground
Who obliterated to nothing
Not hearing a sound
The town of Lockerbie
Will never be the same
Yet one of the gang goes free
Because the poor guys in pain
Where's the compassion
Of the 270 lost
Their memory now tarnished
To the Scottish Governments cost
We set him free
To his home he goes
Treated like a hero
All compassion has froze
My thoughts and my tears
Are for the truly lost ones
Who will never enjoy
The return to their hometown
In dedication to the 270 who lost their lives on December 21st 1988.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss.php
My butterfly girl
By Michelle Morris
17/04/2023
You're my butterfly girl
And I think of you each day
I love and miss you so
Through all my tears and heartache
Every time I see a butterfly
I love it when it's near
It reminds me that you're close
And it's your sweetest message
I am struggling with your passing
The pain just ebbs and flows
I wish you could be back here
To give us a chance to know
What our life could've been
If you had stayed around
All those daily moments
That people take for granted
I know you're trying to help
With God's precious Angels
Their hugs and healing soothes
But can't cancel out the heartbreak
I'm trying to do my best
Keeping busy with being human
But there are days I hear the clock ticking
And I feel the time is too much to use
You'll always be my butterfly girl
And I'll think of you each day
Remember that I love and miss you so
Through all my tears and heartache
You're smiling down from Heaven
I feel your love and light and healing
You'll always be my butterfly girl
My darling sweetheart beyond earth
© Michelle Morris, 2023
It was hidden below her hairline, across her nape of neck, for her to know that it was there, but no one else just yet.
Younger sister Sophie snuck through her bedroom window. And no one knew that she had gone to party and to dance, to greet, to meet, to drink with friends in Haute Sauverne in France.
Sophie had wisely second thought of riding with the fire chief son, but school friends had allayed concern, all piling in, and not alone, fifteen year old could soon be home, when dance and fun was done.
The night was cold, the heater on, and and tired young man drove off the road, hard crashing with his precious load. Dear Sophie was the only one, with belt forgot, which was undone. Friend sat beside while they both cried and friend held fast her trembling hand, held hand while Sophie cried, held hands while Sophie died.
Four sisters now are three. There's Jen and Natalie, and then the youngest of them all is known only as Mimi.They lost their sparkle lively one, their dearest sister Sophie.They lost their dearest lively one. Four sisters, though not now alone, four sisters now are three.
And so, some time since shock subsides, though sadness never gone, I glanced those words beneath her hair, those words discretely hid, that parents would forbid if they had shown, if they had known that they were there.
But older sister was compelled to get for Sophie sister gone, those words always remembered yet, in tattoo script on nape of neck, her pleading words to not forget, and which said, secret 'neath her hair, and yet cut deep forever there:
'wake her up and tell her',
yes, 'tell her that I love her.'
I SIT HERE & PONDER HOW VERY MUCH I'D LIKE 2 TALK 2 U TODAY & EVERYDAY.
THERE R SO MANY THINGS THAT WE DIDN'T GET 2 SAY
I KNOW HOW MUCH U CARED 4 ME & HOW MUCH I CARED 4 U.
EACH TIME I THINK OF U, I KNOW U MISS ME TOO.
AN ANGEL CAME & TOOK U BY THE HAND & SAID
"UR PLACE IS READY IN HEAVEN"
U HAD 2 LEAVE BEHIND ALL THOSE U LOVED....
U HAD SO MUCH 2 LIVE FOR, UR 3 GRANDSONS Alex ETHAN & ROBBIE.. THEY WERE UR EVERYTHING, THEY MISS THEIR GRAMMY SO MUCH.
IT SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE THAT GOD HAS TAKEN U.
THOUGH UR LIFE WITH US HAS PAST, HEAVEN IS UR NEW HOME,
WHERE U NO LONGER SUFFER IN PAIN.
EVEN THOUGH UR UP ABOVE,
WE R NEVER FAR APART
EVERY TIME I THINK OF U MOM UR RIGHT HERE, DEEP WITHIN MY HEART.. TILL WE MEET AGAIN, I'LL SEE YOU LATER..MY TEARS FALL EVERYDAY..
LOVE ALWAYS UR DAUGHTER
MISSY
Summer’s arriving with ease and I’m lost
Broken connection,
Devoid affection,
Feels like the warmth has converted to frost
Withering willows,
Drowning in billows,
The reverie can’t save me from misery
Since death caped my sweet daughter Rose Emily.
It was her I adored…
Once in my womb now sleeps in a cold tomb
Rosy cheeks of pink,
I’m starting to sink,
Her baby girl scent like lilac perfume
Tiny toes to count,
God, can I surmount?
My sweet Rose Emily shall never be mine
Now she rests in heaven with angels divine.
It was her I adored…
Now my poor life abhorred.
May 21, 2018
A Crime
I Had the Sweetest Little Girl.
She Was My Maiden Fair.
I Taught Her to Believe in Life,
And What it Means to Care.
She Grew up to Be a Lady,
Went to School and Became a Nurse.
I Was the Proudest Parent Alive
You Would Have Thought She Was the First.
Then My World Kind of Tilted,
As She Stood There with Her News.
She Said She Had Joined the Service....
It Was Time to Pay Her Dues.
They Sent Her to Vietnam.
She Would Be Gone for Maybe a Year.
I Wrote Letters and Sent Pictures
And Tried to Hide My Fear.
They Knocked on My Door One Day...
Missing in Action They Said.
But How Could That Be??
I Cried...Please God , Don't Let Her Be Dead!
That Prayer Was Never Answered,
But She Finally Was Sent Home.
I Still Have Dreams and Nightmares
About Her Death and Her Dying Alone.
Dear God Please Forgive Me,
I Am So Bitter about That War.
Fifty Eight Thousand of Our Young People Died,
Not Really Knowing What They Were Fighting For.
My Daughter's Name Is on That Wall.
She Died Way Before Her Time .
I Know She Is Not Really Alone,
But to Me...her Death Remains a Crime.
Connie Moore
10/2013
Rasp-rasp, rasp-rasp, the saw moves up and down;
because coffins are built better by hand.
My young daughter watches in her pink gown;
to make sure that it's right, you understand.
"It can't; it can't be a shabby old box,"
she cried out loud; "best wood, best silk, and, and;
he needs to be dressed in one of his frocks;
it has to be super awesome and grand!"
Her first small pet, Bunny, expired today.
Put in the box with love; sobbing, and tears
we'll surround it with buds, flowers; and pray;
while both stroking its soft downy big ears.
"Can we plant it now, dad?" She said with glee
"And will it grow into a rabbit tree?"