The death of my daughter is a subject I talk about briefly because there is nothing more tragic.
quote by Ben Vereen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama Talk To Your Daughter
Talk to your daughter
(J B Lenoir)
Mama, mama please talk to your daughter bout me
Mama, mama please talk to your daughter bout me
She made me love her and I aint gonna leave her be
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
She made me love her and I aint gonna leave her be
I aint gonna stand no quitting and she wont have me around
I aint gonna stand no quitting and she wont have me around
If she got me a ride, shed be six feet in the ground
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
She made me love her and I aint gonna leave her be
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
You should talk to your daughter (talk, talk)
She made me love her and I aint gonna leave her be
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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DaDa
Da Da
Da Da
Da Da
Da Da
Da Da
Da Da
Da Da
Da Da
Da Da
I don't know what you mean about nasty feelings, it's
Let me help you out of this, you were starting to feel a
certain way, violence, resentful.
How do you know that? I told you? I told you that?
That's right, remember yesterday?
I don't want to talk about that, I don't want to talk about it.
Let's talk about, uh, talk about something else. Ok?
What would you like to talk about?
Uh
Tell me about your son.
My son, yeah well, he took care of me. He's took care of me
for a long, he still takes care of me. And she takes good, and
she takes care of me. She takes, she takes good care of me.
He takes care of me,
Do you believe it
I have a daughter too.
You don't have a daughter.
Yeah, I have a dauther, yeah.
A son - you have a son, a son.
No I, no I, all I have, I have
I have a son, I have a son and a daughter, and a daughter.
No, I have a son, daughter, daughter too, and a boy, and a boy
Da Da
Da Da
I'm a little tired now
Well that's alright, I think that's enough for today.
I'm feeling rough and kinda hungry too.
Da Da
Who's my boy?
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We assert that the subject is crucial and only that subject matter is valid which is tragic and timeless.
quote by Mark Rothko
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daughter of Death
I was born
Born to the blood of angels
Born through the veil of a storm
Born without love inside of me
Born with a need to perform
Born out of vengence
Born out of scorn
Born out of hatred
out of love torn
Born with a mission
Born with a drive
Born with a need
with a need to sruvive.
Now it's time to show you what i'm really about
no more pretentions;
No more frothing at the mouth
there's no use of hiding
all my sins deep inside
I'll wear them on my shoulder like a badge of pride
Cuz i'm the daughter of death
from my very first breath
i'm the daughter of death
blood red as macbeth
living a filthy mess
i'm a daughter of death
just a daughter of death
I was
Raised from buring ashes
Raised with tragic crime
Raised from cries of chaos
Raised on borrowed time
Raised by the darkness
Rasied by the night
Raised by the claws of fright
Raised to be hated
Riased to be loved
Riased to be doomed
By the powers above
poem by Brittany Cook
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Your Daughter Was A Good Person
Your daughter was a good person I believe that to be true
And the fate that was her's surely was not her due
By bullies in the workplace she was driven to suicide
In such a tragic way your beloved young daughter died
For their part in her death a heavy fine they have paid
Though a greater example of them ought to be made
Workplace bullying ought to be looked on as a serious crime
And those found guilty of it serve at least two years of prison time
The bullies by all account have relocated to Interstate
If they feel sorry now it is sorry too late
Their behaviour unmanly and cowardly and bad
Of their beautiful daughter they robbed a mum and dad
For the death of a young woman they must take the blame
And for the rest of their lives they must live with their shame.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Poem For Mr And Mrs...
I have never met you officially!
And my wife didn't know what to say!
When I ask her, where are your parents?
So, I can give you a hard hands shake
And tell you, thank you for a beautiful daughter.
death came and denied you the chance.
I haven't met you
Death came! Just before I can,
Tell you that 'I am intending to marry your daughter'
Death came! Just before!
i can give you her lobola
And ask you to count it.
death came and denied you the opportunity
I wanted you to be there,
On our engagement day and our wedding day
To share with us, the feeling and excitement
Cuddle and chuckles of the day.
death came and denied you the moment
I wish we could have met
Sit around the table
Drink cup of coffee
And talk about soccer
Laugh about it, dispute about it
death came and denied you the opportunity
Now one day these children will want you!
They will ask me and my wife about you
One day they will want all those old stories and tales
As grandparents do to their grandchildren
death came and denied them the opportunity
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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The most painful death in all the world is the death of a child. When a child dies, when one child dies-not the 11 per 1,000 we talk about statistically, but the one that a mother held briefly in her arms-he leaves an empty place in a parent's heart that will never heal.
quote by Thomas H. Kean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Love becomes a vehicle
Driving that blue Volvo
Parked strategically in a free spot
Escorting me through Chicago streets
Adept at the social nightlife scene
I was won over by one toss of the Frisbee
Because you set yourself apart immediately
Owning the room you only stayed briefly
I knew you understood how to have fun
While you have been the subject of other poems
I know in reality I never knew you
Sure admiring, wondering considering from afar
Your symbol remains a used blue Volvo
Now a mature, responsible adult
I would never play Frisbee when going out
Unless I was at a golf course
Alone with my daughter of course
poem by Stephanie Eve Kane Arado
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Branded
Tragic is the self misplaced.
Tragic is a lost identity...
And no familiarity on anyone's face.
Tragic in denial
Sits the misfits feeling on trial
For lives lived reeking and stinking of bile.
Tragic for them,
Love is not recognized at all...
Nor suitable to start,
From a place within them that begins.
And this becomes tragic for those
Unlike them but comprehending,
These tragedies
May not always be self inflicted...
As they are branded!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Death of a family
Drinking and fighting.
Fighting and drinking.
When does it ever end?
What ever happened to the word 'Family'?
Does it exist any more?
Mother against daughter.
Daughter against Mother.
How can you hate your own blood?
When the Matriarch of our
family died, the beautiful rug
that was our family unraveled with
her. Now, I feel as if the family
rug has unraveled down to me.
I am now left to mourn the tragic
death of my great grandmother and
my family. Is there anybody out
there who can save me from this
ocean of despair?
poem by Jamal Brown
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Death of death
Death died death
A tragic death of unusual death
Cemetery moaned, howled and wept alone
Its tears all over the ground
Death! Its sole hunter and soul provider
Graveyard's convulsion of shame
As if death was new
Death was old had to die too
Nothing last forever
There was nothing new
Clouds gathered but never rained
No rain wanted to clean the blood on death
The unusual act of death
Even birds of the feather fights each other
Death died, all were dazed for death of death
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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Signs On the Horizon
Restoration of those values,
Intergrated with dusted standards...
And the fading of faith based beliefs,
Seem to have been resuscitated...
Briefly.
People take to the streets to rejoice,
Briefly.
A pride kept on hold with a retelling of greatness,
Replace malaise...
Briefly.
But there are signs on the horizon,
Coming.
With a promise to end tensions,
Wounding those stunned.
A new day comes to awaken,
With a permanence.
And not just to make a brief stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Death ignored
Death is the common denominator among us all,
It doesn’t matter how high or where we go, we will fall,
This is a deadly subject you seldom hear or read about,
But some day in your future, you will die, so have no doubt.
Some of us manage to delay death for a year or two,
It may be delayed but it can’t be avoided when it’s due,
I should apologize now for causing you to think about death,
But death-with-dignity could soften the punch, you bet.
They have it in Switzerland, Oregon and other places,
But our politicians wont touch this problem right in our faces,
In the middle of an election campaign and it’s not spoken,
Is this subject forbidden or is our communications broken.
poem by James Bredin
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The Old Woman And Her Loyal Maid
the old woman is very rich
she has two children, a lovely daughter and a very naughty son
the lovely daughter dislikes her
and the naughty son wants to kill her
she slaps her often and the more the daughter wants to go away from her
the son is disturbed and furious because he did not know his father enough
the daughter married a gentle man
and the son went away with no know address no known destination
he never came back
while she lives her own life away from the rich woman
the old woman has a loyal maid
who has no memory of humiliating words that the old woman more often
inflicts in her person
the old woman is dying
but the son and daughter have no respect anymore for such word
as mother.
meanwhile the loyal maid keeps swallowing the pesters of the old woman
expecting a part of the wealth
as her pay and legacy
well, this story cannot have an ending yet
the old woman is still alive and the son and daughter are still making up
their minds
what to do next.
Life is a comma. The ending always waits
for something that will be a happy one.
But who knows, except this one, something tragic may happen
at the end. Who knows?
I will for sure.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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O! Daughter of Earth
O! Daughter of Earth
O! Daughter of earth-
When you look with wanton eye
I can read that eye.
When you look with prominent eye
Then any male cannot but look at you.
You talk in beckoning- call in beckoning
To talk by mouth- you feel ashamed.
At lonely field of spring, air makes dance
You go on twinkling anklet looking with curved eye
At the heart of city the thirsty wayfarer looks behind.
O! Daughter of earth when you look with wanton eye
I can read that eye.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Mother and Daughter Love
Mother and daughter love can be so fun...
A mother should love her daughter at all time
A mother have connection with her daughter
A daughter should love there mother with in and with out
A daughter should talk to her about anything with each other
A mother and daughter should love each other
That what some people call mother and daughter love.....
poem by Valentine White
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Grandma, I Never Knew You
I never knew you
You are my grandmother.
I get mad at God
For not giving me a chance
To know you.
You died ten years
Before I was born.
It breaks my heart
Every time I think
That I will never get
The chance to know you.
I look at your picture that hangs
Almost everyday.
I wonder if I have your eyes.
I wonder if I have your laugh.
I wonder if I have your smile.
I wonder if I have your nose.
I wonder if I have anything of you.
I guess I will never know
I guess I will never get to see you.
Death is the most tragic thing in life
Death is hard on me now than I was younger.
Death is what I have inside
Thinking of everyone that I have lost.
Death is forever
Death is longer than an eternity
Death is permanent
Death is a scar that never goes away.
Death is what I feel everyday
Death is what has to be.
Death is what is happening everyday.
Death is what no one knows for sure.
Death is what everyone goes through.
Death is the reason why I am the way I am
Death is what I fear…
poem by Kimberly Santistevan
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Their Daughter
Their daughter has passed to another world,
Forming an image in the mind, in the heart;
It lingers from frail limbs, the movement of death,
This death is significant, and I am distinct.
This daughter may shudder, alone in the night,
And pick up distressful voices telling her to wake up.
She never does, all the time in silence, every second
Is without her now, but why do you also live?
Love her if ever she falls in love with heaven,
After the death, and more laughter.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Happy Rita and Pleasant Bob
Rita with her happy smile,
wears stylish jewelry with lots of style.
Born in the windy city of Chicago in 1933,
Her father was a tenor in the Metropolitan Opera Company.
Rita received her teaching degree,
in Texas while her husband Bob was in the military.
Rita was also three years at the College of NYC,
she then had two children so she taught briefly.
Her graduation gown was her first maternity dress,
Her daughter gave them one grandchild they dearly cherish.
Long Island is where Rita and Bob where most of their married life,
They now live in Florida with the pelicans and sunshine.
Bob and Rita make their morning stop,
In Barnes and Noble café where they read and talk,
Talk to friends while lending a listening ear,
Rita is genuine, sweet and sincere.
So say hi, to the Rita and Bob when you are here.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on October 6,2011
www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Wait Till You Die Feb 26th,2011
We have to wait to die because there is no other way,
At least there is no death with dignity advertised on display
And assisted suicide here in Canada is illegal,
Your doctor could end up needing more than a paralegal.
And this is a nasty subject that nice people try to avoid,
The religious and the holy folk might even be annoyed.
You will go to heaven or hell after you die they all say,
Their religious rules say that they are right as they often pray.
I’ll admit, it’s not a nice subject but we’re all going to get there,
And the experience of death and dying, no one is aware,
We could get death with dignity if referendums like the Swiss,
I can almost hear it now as politicians and priests all hiss.
Feb 26th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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