For years I have been mourning and not for my dead, it is for this boy for whatever corner in my heart died when his childhood slid out of my arms.
quote by William Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghosts of Dreams
We are all of us dreamers of dreams,
On visions our childhood is fed;
And the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems,
By ghosts of dreams that are dead.
From childhood to youth's but a span,
And the years of our life are soon sped;
But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,
When the first of his dreams is dead.
'Tis a cup of wormwood and gall,
When the doom of a great man is said;
And the best of a man is under a pall
When the best of his dreams is dead.
He may live on by compact and plan
When the fine bloom of living is shed,
But God pity the little that's left of a man
When most of his dreams are dead.
Let him show a brave face if he can;
Let him woo fame and fortune instead;
Yet there's not much to do, but to bury a man
When the last of his dreams is dead.
poem by William Herbert Carruth
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I Just Died In Your Arms
Oh i, i just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
I keep looking for something
I can't get broken hearts lie all around me
And i don't see an easy way to get out of this
Her diary it sits on the bedside table
The curtains are closed
The cats in the cradle who would've thought
That a boy like me could come to this
Oh i, i just died in your arms tonight
It must've been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh i, i just died in your arms tonight
It must've been some kind of kiss i should've walked away
Is there any just cause for feeling like this?
On the surface i'm a name on a list i try to be discreet
But then blow it again
I've lost and found
It's my final mistake she's loving by proxy
No give and all take 'cos i've been thrilled to fantasy one too many times.
Oh i, i just died in your arms...
It was a long hot night she made it easy
She made it feel right
But now it's over the moment has gone
I followed my hands not my head
I know i was wrong
Oh i, i just died in your arms...
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Just Died In Your Arms
Oh i, I just died in your arms tonight
It must have been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
I keep looking for something
I cant get broken hearts lie all around me
And I dont see an easy way to get out of this
Her diary it sits on the bedside table
The curtains are closed
The cats in the cradle who wouldve thought
That a boy like me could come to this
Oh i, I just died in your arms tonight
It mustve been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
Oh i, I just died in your arms tonight
It mustve been some kind of kiss I shouldve walked away
Is there any just cause for feeling like this?
On the surface Im a name on a list I try to be discreet
But then blow it again
Ive lost and found
Its my final mistake shes loving by proxy
No give and all take cos Ive been thrilled to fantasy one too many times.
Oh i, I just died in your arms...
It was a long hot night she made it easy
She made it feel right
But now its over the moment has gone
I followed my hands not my head
I know I was wrong
Oh i, I just died in your arms...
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Childhoods End (live)
Track 9 _Misplaced Childhood_
And it was morning.
And I found myself mourning,
for a childhood that I thought had disappeared.
I looked out the window,
And I saw a magpie in the rainbow, the rain had gone
I'm not alone, I turned to the mirror,
I saw you, the child, that once loved.
The child before they broke his heart,
Our heart, the heart that I believed was lost.
Hey you, surprised? More than surprised,
to find the answers to the questions,
Were always in your own eyes.
Do you realize that you give it on back to her?
But that would only be retraced in all the problems that you ever knew,
So untrue.
For she's got to carry on with her life,
and you've got to carry on with yours.
So I see it's me, I can do anything
And still the child,
'Cos the only thing misplaced was direction
And I found direction.
There is no Childhood's End.
There is no Childhood's End.
Cos' you are my childhood friend.
Cos' you are my childhood friend.
Oh lead me on.
Hey you, you've survived.
Now you've arrived,
to be reborn in the shadow of the magpie.
Now you realize, that you've got to get out of here.
You've found the leading light of destiny,
burning in the ashes of your memory.
You want to change the world.
You'd resigned yourself to die a broken rebel,
But that was looking backward.
Now you've found the light.
You, the child that once loved,
The child before they broke his heart.
The heart, the heart that I believed was lost
So it's me I see, I can do anything.
I'm still the child.
'Cos the only thing misplaced was direction, and I found direction.
There is no childhood's end.
There is no childhood's end.
There is no childhood's end.
I am your childhood friend.
Oh.. lead me on
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stepmother
First she come to our house,
Tommy run and hid;
And Emily and Bob and me
We cried jus' like we did
When Mother died,--and we all said
'At we all wisht 'at we was dead!
And Nurse she couldn't stop us,
And Pa he tried and tried,--
We sobbed and shook and wouldn't look,
But only cried and cried;
And nen someone--we couldn't jus'
Tell who--was cryin' same as us!
Our Stepmother! Yes, it was her,
Her arms around us all--
'Cause Tom slid down the bannister
And peeked in from the hall.--
And we all love her, too, because
She's purt nigh good as Mother was!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Open Arms
If love is what you want
Baby here I am
If tenderness is what you need
Ive got that to give
If you need some affection
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
You come hem youve had a hard day
Every door you tried to open
Was closing in your face
Im right here Ill be right here
Ill embrace you
Ill be open with my heart
Ill let you in
Ill be open with my thoughts
Ill be your best friend
If you need some attention
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
Every corner you turn
Trouble come your way
But when you get home
Ill try to be there
And Ill embrace you
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
If time is what you need
Baby Ill stop the clocks
If youre looking for something
Maybe Ive got what you want
If theres one thing to remember
Dont forget that these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Day Old Shep Died
it's been thirty years,
that he's been gone,
the day he died, brought tears,
all day, i played his song.
for nine long years,
i loved him and he loved me,
the day he died, broght tears,
toward the end, he could barely see.
when he died, i was seventeen years,
my child hood died that day,
the day he died, brought tears,
during his youth, we were always at play.
him and i was, so close in years,
when i got shep he was five and i eight,
the day he died brought tears,
he always ate his meals, off our plate.
he died at eighty-four in human years,
he lived to a ripe old age,
the day he died brought tears,
for this poem, he set the stage.
i can't believe, its been so many years,
i think about him, all the time,
the day he died, brought tears,
but old shep, was all mind.
of all these many years,
no dog has taken the place of old shep,
the day he died, brought tears,
i'll always remember, that dog with pep
in memory of old shep 1946-1960 written june 21,1990
For Sylvie - an old lady died....
An old lady died
quietly, at hospital
and was buried
that afternoon.
I never had a chance
to say goodbye,
never cried
but
I feel a pain
in my heart
unseen
by public eyes.
An old lady,
who never said
how ill
she'd really been
slid away
like a candle flame
blown out
by a gale
and swept,
like flotsam
to an ocean
of the dead.
She'd say
'I'm 86 you know
and everyone dies
of something"
poem by Ruth Walters
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Grand-Father's Clock
My grand-father's clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a penny weight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
My grandfather said that of those he could hire,
Not a servant so faithful he found;
For it wasted no time, and had but one desire --
At the close of each week to be wound.
And it kept in its place -- not a frown upon its face,
And its hands never hung by its side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
It rang an alarm in the dead of the night --
An alarm that for years had been dumb;
And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight --
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Twilight
So Mary died last night! To-day
The news has travelled here.
And Robert died at Michaelmas,
And Walter died last year.
I went at sunset up the lane,
I lingered by the stile;
I saw the dusky fields that stretched
Before me many a mile.
I leaned against the stile, and thought
Of her whose soul had fled--
I knew that years on years must pass
Or e'er I should be dead.
Light Of Glory
Voices of the living
Faces of the dead
Shadows of their souls
In my head
Spirits walking
to the light of glory
looking down
on a world in mourning
Mourning for the living
not the dead
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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A Pair of Fractured Hearts
A pair of fractured hearts stand
near the corner of regret.
Each with their arms outstretched
ready to take another bet.
That the next heart they meet
will hold the intensity of love they need.
Too many long nights
with pillows stained in tears,
now they wait with beckoning arms
trying to forget their worst fears.
Each needs a loving heart
to fill their soul with warmth.
And so they wait
these pair of fractured hearts
near the corner of regret.
(16 November 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Here Lie's The truth
“Here Lies the truth”,
On Her tombstone this will be wrote.
It was never spoke when She was living,
So also in death, it will be unspoke.
By Her it was never said
it was as though pulling out Her soul,
So here lies the truth and herself dead
Both has died in sadness and woe.
Here lies the truth,
Not once by her was it cried,
Not in the days that she was living,
Not even in the day that She had died.
She must of believed that it was a sin
To open Her heart and listen to the word
So She closed her heart and locked it shut,
And She never believed in no one but Her.
Here lies the truth,
It lived but a very short life,
Though the Woman died of years of age
The truth though, never had a chance to try.
Everyone She knew had learned Her lie
They never believed a word that she said
So when She finally tried to speak the truth,
Her heart stopped; and She laid dead.
Here lies the truth
It lived but a very short life,
It was loved by neither Child or Man,
For they believe its living was but a lie.
So here in the grave it will lay dead
As it had lived in this woman's soul,
Never again will it be uttered or thought of,
Never till the end of time will it be thought of or known.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Lady Of The Lake
Today I talked
to the old lady
who lives across the way
she said she died
a hundred years ago today
She told me
of the time she saw me
fishing in the lake
I had to laugh
I said
if You've been dead
for a hundred years
it couldn't have been me
you saw fishing in the lake
I'm not even fifty yet
She said
have you ever seen me
walk out of this garden
or talk to anybody else
I said
you've got me there
but like I said
if you died a hundred
years ago today
it couldn't have been me
you saw fishing in the lake
She said
a hundred years ago today
you drowned trying to save me
now it's time to except
that you are dead
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Dead Father
when your fathers dead
your heart fills with dread
my father died in the year 2005
when he was alive my life was filled with pride
somtimes i just wish i could go back in time
go back and save his life
when i heard the news that he was gone
all i could say is no hes too young
he was 39 years old
he still had about 60 more to go
my heart bleeds knowing were apart
but at least i know hes still in my heart
my heart filled with dread
when i found out my father was dead
poem by Jean Pullman
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That Old Man....
that old man who lives down the street,
who just shared a can of Alpo with his blind dog.
who owned the corner grocery when i was a kid,
who helped me out when i was short.
whose father passed it down to him,
whose son was killed in a car wreck.
whose daughter lives somewhere in California,
whose wife died ten years ago.
who was a deacon in the church for years,
who quit going when his wife died.
who put his life savings with 'trusted investors',
who lost it all when everything fell.
who the county's hounding for back taxes,
whose porch is falling down.
who prays that if there is a god...
he'll die and take the dog with him!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hole
Husband died of a whole in the heart
Son one died of a whole in the heart
Son two died of a whole in the heart
Son three died of a whole in the heart
Do l have to bury son four
Son four died of a whole in the heart
Luckily they left me some grandchildren.
All with a hole in the heart
poem by Doris Dzameshie
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The Vacuum
The house is so quiet now
The vacuum cleaner sulks in the corner closet,
Its bag limp as a stopped lung, its mouth
Grinning into the floor, maybe at my
Slovenly life, my dog-dead youth.
I’ve lived this way long enough,
But when my old woman died her soul
Went into that vacuum cleaner, and I can’t bear
To see the bag swell like a belly, eating the dust
And the woolen mice, and begin to howl
Because there is old filth everywhere
She used to crawl, in the corner and under the stair.
I know now how life is cheap as dirt,
And still the hungry, angry heart
Hangs on and howls, biting at air.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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She Wrote About Our Mother.
She wrote about our mother and it took me far away
And many, many years in time back home to Claraghatlea
And as I read her letter I fought to choke the tears
For Millstreet, Cork and Ireland and happy childhood years.
She wrote about our mother long under Tanyard soil
And memories flooded back to me of one with ready smile
Of woman who worked hard for us for no reward or pay
The heroine of our childhood years of happy by gone day.
She wrote about our mother with sense of love and pride
And memories flooded back to me and tears welled up inside
For one who done her best for us her very best she tried
And I still feel she is with us her spirit never died.
A letter from my sister in east Rockaway in New York
Reminding me of childhood years in Millstreet County Cork
She wrote about our mother whose passing left a void
And memories flooded back to me and tears welled up inside.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Solemn Purpose
Poet!
recite to us
a monody. Let it
be sad. Make us cry for those that
have died.
Remind
us on this day
of mourning, why they died:
So that everyone may live in
freedom.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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