Child Loss Poems | Examples
These Child Loss poems are examples of Loss poems about Child. These are the best examples of Loss Child poems written by international poets.
For you are nevermore.
Your eyes' last light
never illumined mine.
Death prompted us
to be hasty -
curbed childhood,
sped me past stop signals,
headlong onto adult carousels.
But we must agree over how these hours are
moving against our wills.
I've remained still until here,
grasping a rumpled-up grocer's receipt
with this budget-buy, multicolor pen
confident of words
I have space to admit now
and bury in poetry's
kinetic cemetery.
I'm sure I loved
your faulty teeth's scattered English,
its determined guidance.
I wished my life
had been adequate
to cover your shortfall
as you had covered mine
back when I was all but novelty.
You only stayed a short while
Before you left
A mere snippet of a life on earth
Your loved ones left broken and bereft
You sprinkled your pure sweet essence
Eternally etched within our hearts core
Heavens precious angel now
Fly free my child forevermore!
Mummy don't leave me today.
Mummy he hurts me again and again
Mummy I'm sorry I upset you
Mummy of course I'll go again.
News in the paper of a little girls death
News in the paper of the abuse
News in the paper of a grieving mother
News in the paper of a life gone too soon.
Cries the mother who didn't heed the cry
Cries the mother who failed to hear
Cries the mother who sent her there
Cries the mother for her dead child.
In my mind, she still survives
The smallest hand, I held on tight
Not tight enough – this memory revives
The moment when she left the fight
A fight between her and a dark disease
The story is so old – but I must tell it
It’s so long past, but I fall to my knees
Praying for relief – yes, I’ll definitely admit…
My heart still beats when I hear her name
Flooded with a feeling, such a deep pain
Still blaming, the shame– oh, nothing is the same
She haunts my heart so I’m almost insane
She knew the joy of motherhood
once; for nine months:
Two hours, fourteen minutes.
she held him for his entire life
and tried to give
this tiny, unformed soul
all the love that he would need
as he moved on.
And all the hurts
they would endure together,
he and she;
falls from trees,
bruises, scratches, cuts,
broken bones,
broken hearts,
failures, confusion, anger.
She felt them
all at once
unbearable,
the weight of her grief.
“An Old PhotoOf You“.
I just found…. A photo of you,
The photo is old,
but my memories of you… are new.
These are the days.. that just fade away,
Never know what to say, or do.
I stay in bed all night and day,
Shots of whisky to make me…
but I’m just counting sheep
And lying here wide awake, … just.
Staring at that photo of you.
And.. the emptiness of life.
Haunted by an old photo of you.
And the sheep painted on your cute little red shoes.
Before that drunk driver……. killed you.
And.. the emptiness of life.
With just An old photo of you,
And the white sheep painted on your cute little red shoes.
© London F. BuSS
baby ghost
wrinkles the river
I gaze
at its drowsiness
as I masticate
on the meanings of why
because inside me is misaligned
and its cold, sleepy eye
- cautionless -
shall twitch
like visible white noise
when TV boxes snap
neither shoals
nor skipping stones
breaches the facade of a conspiratory sea
river rattles
'cause it's my baby's ghost:
The Deer Hunter
picked her blossom
tending his garden
of wicked passion
for crooked lotuses
laying dead
afloat
"REMEMBER"
Remember. I remember the pain passing away.
I watched as the pain numbly died to itself, to the
deaths I have caused,
shredding softened hearts.
Remember. I remember the past,
Holding out hope for mere laughter.
At this, I laughed until I cried.
Hope…
An unfortunate weak child.
Cancer, I believe;
I did not cry for Hope, this time.
Remember. I remember I spat-
promises to love-
countless promises spoken in vain.
Abandoned vows, dropped on fault lines.
All-my-fault-lines
But, too, I remember…. I…
I remember being invisible and you could not see.
I was trying to draw you closer.
Hoping to lay you down.
How do you fix
the pieces of a life
you never meant to break?
How much of that pain
should I be able to take?
The rivers of loss
and the heart
fight for and against
a wishful part.
Things you hope
to one day fix
seem so far away.
Everything I've done
to right the wrongs
are just as hard
on their own.
The flesh of my flesh.
The blood of my blood.
One day I hope for my love
to be overwhelming...
to be as a flood.
Wash away the past.
Forgive for the future.
Almighty God
I beg you to bring my boys back to me
and give them the mother
that finally learned how to nurture.
DEATH
Distant bird calls echoed in the silent hills,
Evening’s crimson light illuminates the fields,
A small child dances under the autumn moon.
The world lives on with the dawning of each day.
How is it that the pain is still in my heart?
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
As crashing waves collide with sand,
It’s pictured in the water's sway–
relentless, as a tide's demand
to wash the tracks of yesterday.
Yet, as it ebbs, new prints appear
in place of those erased by sea;
each step an echo, crisp and clear,
a silent, screaming memory.
Her eyes, like windows to the past,
as forceful as the ocean's surge–
to heal, then break me just as fast
when sky and sea begin to merge.
And she’ll not feel this déjà vu
or hear your echo in her voice;
but in her blood, she’ll carry you
and mirrors never have a choice.
The salty sea can sting so deep
when sprinkled on my wounded skin;
you walk beside her while you sleep
and reach me from the grave you're in.
You left this earth
I stayed behind
Life changed forever
Sorrow consumed heart and mind
Time eased my sorrow
Though did not heal
Granted me strength
So my soul could again feel
So many years it took
To look at a photo of you
Without overwhelming sadness
Debilitating grief that pursued
Time has allowed me to embrace you and your life
And the incredible bond we shared
Life changed forever the day you left this earth
Now, a huge part of heart holds you in there!
you have draped your innocence in the warmth of muslin
your dark eyes speak of your loneliness in this strange land
your lips whisper within yourself your desires
when they should be screaming out loud for justice
do not shed precious tears amongst heartless men
they might just mock you and subjugate you more
an age when most would be unfolding outer petals
you are a flower that has been robbed of its garden
your mother weeps inconsolably at home in her dark lonely room
your world was stolen from you for the pleasure of men
yet darkest corners of life have embers of god’s light
I see you I am here to rescue your innocence
I shall sweep you in strong arms of love and carry you home to safety
to mother.
Murder on the Orient Express--just?
Shorter the fuse tighten the screws,
sharper stuns the rushed, drug delays the hushed,
marker trashed refuse, clues confuse.
'Morning after sharpened scours the given,
charming entertains the witty,
earning their forthcoming thwarts admission,
forming and sorting out gritty.
Straightforward clues like manna from Heaven,
page foreword; Farmer's Almanac,
date onward, sow-reap, from whence transgression?
Came forward all, the common task.
Burdened heavily, labored the righteous,
incessantly drew in favor,
descendancy ends by the impious,
death penalty, all-signed ... waiver.
Adieu, Poirot
It is a debt; nearly one out of three has sadly paid
Life started to grow, but its first breath was never made
A branch on the family tree that produced no shade
Pain of such an investment unsuccessful; I would not wish for or trade
If I could, I would take the hurt from each mother that this monster has slayed
Cruelty— is what I would name this game that conception has played
The remorseful loss of an unborn child; to sad rest, too many are laid