Grieve and mourn for yourself not once or twice, but again and again.
quote by Morrie Schwartz
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Ain't Gonna Grieve
by Bob Dylan
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Come on brother, join the band,
Come on sisters, clap your hands,
Tell everybody that's in the land,
You ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Brown and blue and white and black,
All one color on the one-way track,
We got this far and ain't a-goin' back
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
We're gonna notify your next of kin,
You're gonna raise the roof until the house falls in.
If you get knocked down get up again,
We ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
We'll sing this song all night long,
Sing it to my baby from midnight on.
She'll sing it to you when I'm dead and gone,
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more.
Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
I ain't a-gonna grieve no more
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Priest At The Serapeion
My kind old father
whose love for me has always stayed the same
I mourn my kind old father
who died two days ago, just before dawn.
Jesus Christ, I try continually
in my every thought, word, and deed
to keep the commandments
of your most holly Church; and I reject
all who deny you. But now I mourn:
I grieve, O Christ, for my father
even though he was -terrible as it is to say it
priest at that cursed Serapeion.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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When You Are Gone
When you are gone I will live on
I will live on
When you are gone
I will not mourn or forget
How love was born
Much stronger still
Though you are gone
You still live on
In birds in clouds
In simple flowers
In bones and flesh
That carry you
Each day, each hour
And this is your power
Though you are gone
Much stronger now
You still live on
In words that echo in the air
In scent of showers
Fallen leaves
In all of these
And feeling sense
You presence, felt in present tense
I will not mourn
Nor wil I grieve
For you live on
Inside of me
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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To grieve is something extremely difficult, we don't even know how to begin to grieve, and I don't know how you can be taught to grieve.
quote by Charlotte Rampling
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Never Mourn At My Funeral
Never mourn at my funeral
Because i'm not dead but sleeping
And relaxing on Abraham's bossom
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in view to mourning
But within you, you're here to mock
Because my poetry has once expose your secret-deeds
Throw my body where you please
Or let it be dismembered
Never mourn at my funeral
You the insect that bites my daffodils
And you who want my fish to swim on a dry earth
Throw me on a stormy sea
Where Jonah fell
But its a glorious shame
I can never sight the river bank of Joppa
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in my maker's name
Just to bless my end
Go thy way and search for lust souls
Wear them a garment pure as snow
Before they lie low with me
And journey hell eternal
Never mourn at my funeral
But mourn for we're debtors of death
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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Blues For The Widow Of The Victim Of A Racist Attck
Mourn, and mourn hard
Your tears shall fall wasted and uncollected
On this damp slab of concrete
Mourn though young widow
Weep because your husband is dead
Cry because the crowd has left and you're alone
And ganged up against by the priests and the
Celebrity pastors who piously tell you
To forgive and forget
Sob because you're surrounded by the officials
Whom the wise state has instructed to order you
To accept reconciliation without justice
Cry the river of your tears because
Your dear departed husband is dead
And your lovely children will know what it's like
To miss the soothing voice of their father
So brutally snatched away from them
And dragged behind a speeding vehicle and fed
To the lions for the sick amusement
Of a deranged and kaffir hating racist
Mourn for yourself mama
Now you'll face the world alone
With the dubious title of a single parent
Hanging on your fragile and emaciated neck
Mourn and cry and weep for the widows
Of the victims of genocide
Mourn and cry and weep for the sisters
Who are cornered and raped by their xenophobic neighbors
Mourn and cry and weep for the victims of the hurricane of
The internecine strife of ethnic cleansing and tribal warfare
Mourn and cry and weep for they
Who die unlamented in the flower of their youth
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Miss Lloyd has now went to Miss Green
Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green,
As, on opening the box, may be seen,
Some years of a Black Ploughman's Gauze,
To be made up directly, because
Miss Lloyd must in mourning appear
For the death of a Relative dear--
Miss Lloyd must expect to receive
This license to mourn and to grieve,
Complete, ere the end of the week--
It is better to write than to speak
poem by Jane Austen
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If I Should Die
If I should die
and you should grieve
my soul would weep
I do believe.
And knowing this
is hard to bear.
For leaving you
there is no where
to cover gloom.
But in your heart
there still is room
for memories
of how we were.
So please, my love
I ask of you
'Do not grieve
for we're not through.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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I don't mourn the dead. I mourn the living.
quote by Stephen Evans
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mosiah 18: 8
I do not share his feelings -
not that I don't care, definitely not.
It's just that he's crying for something
I'm happy about.
How in the world could I feel sorrow
for something I rejoice of...
How can I conceal the smiles
in the midst of his pain-
and mourn, yet deep inside I just but feign?
Surely, I feel sorry for him
but I don't share his feelings.
I want to give him comfort
but how, I know not.
I'm afraid that in this moment of his life,
my face would fail me...I hope not.
Tell me, is it really that easy
to mourn with those that mourn?
23 October 2010
San Nicolas
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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The dead in heaven is too happy to grieve for indignities to his corpse; the dead in hell has too much else to grieve for.
Grieve Not
grieve not
for what God has taken away
from you
grieve not
for what you will miss for another
hundred days
God knows each missing lock of
the hair
and for love God replaces what was
missing
with a thousand loves
For how can God ever
see a tear falling from your eyes
without giving it
a replacement of a rain of joy
sometime
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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15th August to Bengali people
Mourn
It's a command I demmand you
mourn, fool and so ignorant
you must mourn
History is clear, amazingly open
and you still say you don't know that
a pity, I must say you should mourn,
you deserve no sympathy, you lost all
In this caged race, they will dominate, a few
and you so enormous don't understand
what you lost, your root
you must mourn, you want deception, prefer ambiguity
afraid! I have no sympathy
my poor fellow, beloved countrymen
you must mourn.
Note: Bengali people still today say they don't know the real history of their liberation war. What a shame! Actually everybody knows the history because there is no two story. we faught and liberate our country. And then some collabratore killed the Father of the nation Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in 15th August 1975. To confuse all they say we do not know the real history of liberation war. but actually there is no real history, as history is one. And it is, Sheikh Mujib was the mastermind of our leberation. A handfull of Biheris and west pakistany settlers and their sympathesizers run the country after 1975 and still conspiring against Bengali people. they speak in Bengali, but they hate Bengali. and Bengali people do not still understand this and do not realize what they lost. Alas!
poem by Humayun Nasir
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A Farewell
GOOD-BY: nay, do not grieve that it is over—
The perfect hour;
That the winged joy, sweet honey-loving rover,
Flits from the flower.
Grieve not,—it is the law. Love will be flying—
Yea, love and all.
Glad was the living; blessed be the dying!
Let the leaves fall.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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C'mon C'mon
On another day c'mon c'mon
With these ropes I tied can we do no wrong
Now we grieve cause now is gone
Things were good when we were young
With my teeth locked down I can see the blood
Of a thousand men who have come and gone
Now we grieve cause now is gone
Things were good when we were young
Is it safe to say? (c'mon c'mon)
Was it right to leave? (c'mon c'mon)
Will I ever learn? (c'mon c'mon)
(c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon)
As I make my way c'mon c'mon
These better nights that seem too long
Now we grieve cause now is gone
Things were good when we were young
With my teeth locked down I can see the blood
Of a thousand men who have come and gone
Now we grieve cause now is gone
Things were good when we were young
Is it safe to say? (c'mon c'mon)
Was it right to leave? (c'mon c'mon)
Will I never learn? (c'mon c'mon)
(c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon)
Is it safe to say? (c'mon c'mon)
Was it right to leave? (c'mon c'mon)
Will I never learn? (c'mon c'mon)
(c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon)
And know this day these deepened wounds don't heal so fast
Can't hear me croon of a million lies that speak no truth
Of a time gone by that now is through
song performed by by Von Blondies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We always knew how to honor fallen soldiers. They were killed for our sake, they went out on our mission. But how are we to mourn a random man killed in a terrorist attack while sitting in a cafe? How do you mourn a housewife who got on a bus and never returned?
quote by A.B. Yehoshua
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After You Leave
After you leave
Will I still breathe
Or will my heart stop beating?
With sadness grieve
The Love that's freed
And mourn it silently departing?
After you leave
Will skies be blue
Or will gray clouds be dark above?
When Earth receives
The pouring rain
As tears fall for a changing Love.
After you leave
Will Time be still
The days and nights shall cease to be?
No hourglass, nor hours to kill
No past, no future, and no memory.
............................................. .......
August 3,2009
Tarlac City
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Grief makes the beloved proud.
You were taken off my embrace.
I grieve and deeply grieve on your loss.
In grief, I experience solace.
It soothes me like your grace.
How proud you can be to notice!
As you are alive, taken of me,
I shall let you know this.
The dead are grieved over by survivors.
The dead have no recourse to surmise.
But you can. A gift to you, my beloved.
05.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Everything Is Exactly Inexact
at the end you weigh me again
i lack some points on the scale
a shortage of what you put in there
from the very start, i grieve
but it is late, i try to justify that
everything when they end
is exactly inexact by reason
of some unexplained feelings
and overspent emotions, yet
you are not convinced and you
shake your head and you said
'next! '
i grieve yet it is too late, at the
end there shall be no more
forgiveness that i once had
on this place of this earth
regret always comes late.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pass On
You grieve
for burst body
wilted will
soon rot
forgotten beneath
broken ground?
Do you grieve
for fossil fingernails?
You discarded
flush forgotten
down tidal toilet
after manicure trimming.
Yet once filed painted
with meticulous care.
Do you grieve
for fame styled
fresh cut hair?
Was streaked
washed dried
in salon sequence.
With trendy celebrity
professional tender care.
Before being shaped
trimmed in fashionable style.
Residue now lies
scattered shorn forgotten
guillotined to be swept up
disposed of as shed waste.
Yet you grieve
for carcass carrion
spent in purpose
of hostage housing
an immortal soul.
Central core cannot die.
All must needs
pass on.
To rudiment
regenerated.
Greater housing.
New spiritual embodiment.
Graduating this life
continuous purification
of an immortal soul.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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