Cruel Reality
She sits and cries
She knows death will com eventually
But that doesn't make it an easier
When she know someone she loves
Is going to die
The diease is incuriable
He's been going down hill for a while
This she knows
This she sees
He tries to sound happy
But she can tell something's not right
By the sound of his voice
Her father is in denial
Doesn't recognize that Death
Is slowly taking him away
He will leave her soon
Her mother knows how
Bad it really is
All she can do is sit and cry
And try to comfort herself
Her Grandfather is dying
And that is the cruel
Reality of life
poem by Autumn Winds
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An Old Man With His Hat
There Little Robbie found him in an old yellow album
A blurred picture of a half old man with his hat
Standing in front of the coffin
He smiles shy but wide with his teeth gone making a hole like Little Robbie when he lose his baby teeth
Little Robbie doesn’t recognize him and he wonder where he is now
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his big sister
But his sister doesn’t recognize him and she wonder who he is
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his mother
But his mother doesn’t recognize him and she wonder how he was there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his father
But his father doesn’t recognize him and he wonder what he did there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his uncle
But his uncle doesn’t recognize him and he wonder when the picture taken
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks hopelessly to his grandfather
His grandfather takes a deep look to that picture and wonders why Little Robbie asks
Little Robbie says, “I want to meet him! I want to know about him! I want to play with him! ”
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
But his grandfather shakes his head, “No, he is not.”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
“He accompanied your great grandfather when he sick until his death. This picture is taken in a burial of your great grandfather.”
His grandfather stares at little Robbie
“Now, are you disappointed? ”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
Little Robbie shakes his head, “No, I am not.”
Though he is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
Though he is just an old man with his hat
“But I still want to meet him, I want to know about him, and I want to play with him! ”
And then he could be one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Slowly Gone
The rose
Slowly droops
It's petals
Falling to the ground
Slowly turning black
Slowly dying
Every moment
The rose was alive
Fades into
Nothingness
Everything it
Was
Gone
Life is cruel
Death is easier
Even if you
Made it as
Far as you could
Death would
Eventually
Claim you
And you would be
Simply
Gone
poem by Autumn Winds
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Lullaby
My mother's an expert in one thing:
sending people she loves into the other world.
The little ones, the babies--these
she rocks, whispering or singing quietly. I can't say
what she did for my father;
whatever it was, I'm sure it was right.
It's the same thing, really, preparing a person
for sleep, for death. The lullabies--they all say
don't be afraid, that's how they paraphrase
the heartbeat of the mother.
So the living grow slowly calm; it's only
the dying who can't, who refuse.
The dying are like tops, like gyroscopes--
they spin so rapidly they seem to be still.
Then they fly apart: in my mother's arms,
my sister was a cloud of atoms, of particles--that's the difference.
When a child's asleep, it's still whole.
My mother's seen death; she doesn't talk about the soul's integrity.
She's held an infant, an old man, as by comparison the dark grew
solid around them, finally changing to earth.
The soul's like all matter:
why would it stay intact, stay faithful to its one form,
when it could be free?
poem by Louise Gluck
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Death Doesn't Ask
Death doesn't ask when I want to die
Death doesn't ask if I will die night or day
Death doesn't ask me which day I want to die
Death doesn't ask me if I am happy or sad to die
poem by Aldo Kraas
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A Daughter Cries
when a mother cries
her tears stab at her daughter's heart
as they plummet to the floor
when a mother cries
he daughter cries too
because her heroine is wounded and she doesn't know how or why
she cries because she cannot rid her mother of the pain
she cries most of all because she loves her mother
when a daughtrr cries because her mother cries,
her mother cries more
because her weakness has hurt her child
she cries because it hurts to know she's the cause of her daughter's tears.
she cries most of all because she loves her daughter
one the tears have ceased however
love remains
the love forever shared between a mother and her daughter
poem by Portia Lane
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Cry of the Ghetto
The baby cries
As a bullet comes through the window
As the father slowly dies
Whiile the mother doesn't react
Cause she sits in the chair inserting a needle in her vein
While the baby slowly cries, though stregnth he gain
Outside the window a lady yells and screams
Cause a gang just rode by and shot her son Naseem
Blood is flowing is flowing everywhere, no phone in sight
she praying to the the lord that her son won't die this night
as she rock her son rapidly crying
saying to herself' I can't believe my son is dying'
'Hold on baby', slowly she repeats
he slowly closes his eyes and say' Mom in heaven we'll meet'
while down the street on the corner boys shoot dice
It's the wrong thing but as lyfe song it 'must b nice'
5yrs later no one was visible to reply
which concludes to why this particular ghetto cry.
poem by Tequia Taylor
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If You Only Knew
By my grandfather's bed, my mother is reading,
Psalm 62, God is our refuge,
My grandfather stirs, could it be,
he is waking, one final time,
he has something to say,
If you only knew what lies awaiting
If you could only see what I can see
If you could only hear the music playing
The angels singing sweet victory
Oh, if you only knew, if you only knew,
How much he loves you
By my grandfather's bed, my mother is broken,
Psalm 17, O God I call on you,
She doesn't want to hear
Any words about leaving
My grandfather says
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Father?
At times I feel so hurt because i got wounded so deeply.
I know You are there for me, Father my peace and comfort.
I turn towards you murmuring the word 'Father' and slowly.
I look towards you and pour out my pain and the much hurt
Even though I do not have a loving father to this day
I have You who is my true caring Father who loves me fully
When I am hurting, seeing other children happy today
due to the fact they have a loving father who loves them wholly.
I am so hurt, looking at my friends who have such a great live.
I am not enving them, all I want is to be happy and to be loved.
but then I see You turning towards me, You show me so much love
Lord You comfort me like a true father would, I feel so loved
Like a ray of sunshine I sense Your gentle kind fatherly comfort
I pray to you Father when I am in misery, pain or when happy
I realise I have You my true Father so I am free no more hurt.
I pray to you Lord, day and night so that I am no more weary.
When I am sad I slowly cry out to You in a desperate voice of mine
I call onto to You saying these words, 'Father, Father, Father'
I do like calling You father because I get the joy, oh so divine.
I love You so deeply My true compationate Heavenly Father.
When I pray I say, 'Father My provider, Father My God'
My whole prayer are full of the words 'Father'.......father, father
I am thankful that You gave me Your truly fatherly love Lord.
I love you so much even though I have no loving father.
I do not know why I refer to my God as 'Father' not Lord or God
but I find this peace and satifaction when I do call You father
I love my Heavenly Father so much, oh how you give joy, oh God
I somehow find comfort when call on You, You are my only loving father
Oh how Jesus loves me...............How I love Him
poem by Trulyyours Cross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lack of Sympathy
She tries to feel sympathy for the boy who cries
Looking deep into his eyes
She wants to comfort him and say it is alright
Most likely though it is not alright
She can’t lie to this boy who will not go
She can tell him that there’s something’s he doesn’t know
She tries to say don’t cry baby for you mother
Begs to believe that someday she’ll see her father
These words do not slip her lips
Because she knows the feel of wrong fingertips
She would have loved to say brother don’t drink and drive tonight
Given up her own life to save him from that terrible sight
Where blood and death made home
But all she does is sit and write about it in poems.
She wants to feel that grace of sympathy
But how can she
So all she says is this
Yes it is horrible to lose a father
Never to return home to say I love you and goodnight
Pleading to God why did he have to go
Yes for your father to be dead when twelve is sad
But for him to touch you when you’re eight you just wish him so
The Somme-France 1916, From A 15 Year Olds Perspective
They said welcome to the warzone kid,
Now run along and don't get killed,
War was easier said then done,
With shrapnel flying,
And your best mates dying
War was easier said then done,
We're disadvantaged, The Boche have Hill 60, that very important mound,
I wish i was at home, safe and sound,
War was easier said then done,
The trenches are dirty, cold and wet,
I can't take off my boots, in mud they're set,
War was easier said then done,
You never know if your next breath will be your last,
Use your legs, run and run fast,
War was easier said then done,
I've only been here for about one week,
I'm still alive, so i guess this is a winning streak?
War was easier said then done,
My bayonet is bloody and red,
I'm glad it's him and not me that is dead
War was easier said then done...
poem by Harrison Bishop
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A Road Called Life, End Is Death
when i was a child, i did not know this road
i did not recognize its existence
but now, i know the name of this road is 'life'
and end of it is death, and death only
no escape, and no exception
death might seem to be scary
cruel, and painful as it seems
but as experience, courage, and
age all added up as they will always be
death becomes an acceptable agreement that
when finish walking down this road
we shall get rid of our bloody shell
gently follow our Father to where we've always belonged
now, isn't death not horrifying anymore?
It's All Because of Death
Why we are separated from our love ones?
Why we all have to die?
Why did you leave me alone in this hurtful world?
After all your promises dat you will be there,
for my wedding day, my graduation at the university.
Today I'm suffering because of death.
Today I have no father who will guide, protect, provide for me.
Today I don't have a home.
why death?
I'm living with my aunt she abuse me.
I have to obey everything she says, my feelings doesn't maater.
I don't have a say.
Why did you take my dad?
Death have no shame.
Why didn't you let me be a man before you take him?
You did the same thing to my mother when she gave birth to me.
She never had a chance to hold me in her arms.
I hate you death!
You took everything from me.
Sometimes I go to school empty stomach.
I'm living a life wit' no joy, no peace, no happiness
I'm a slave to her and her kids.
They treat me so...... bad, so... cruely....so less human.
I cry day night.
Saying why death?
but nobody answer me.
I'ts all because of death.
Death caused me suffering.
All I have is hatred in my heart.
IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF DEATH.
from a broken heart.
poem by Hopewell Syprien
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A Desparate Song
Mockingbirds are the only
birds to sing all the colors.
The most beautiful of them all
is the saddest, and she sings
her lonely song to him,
but he does not notice.
He does not realize that
they are the same.
He only has eyes
for the bluebird.
The very same bluebird
that has tortured the mockingbird
with her songs many times,
claiming to be his only love.
As the mockingbird sings
her sad songs, she is careful
not to sound like the bluebird.
She sings only to him,
only for him,
but he is the only one
that doesn't listen.
Everyone sees her beauty,
except for him.
They see her as a broken heart,
but he doesn't see her.
He doesn't notice whether
she's there or not.
He doesn't notice
the love in her eyes,
or the pain in her voice.
He only knows the bluebird,
and sees her alone
as the beauty of Life,
although he will never
know true beauty:
the beaury of the mockingbird,
or the love that she
would give to him.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Just Because
Just because you did
Doesn't mean that you should
Just because you can
Doesn't mean that you could
Just because you are able
Doesn't mean you would
Just because you sat
Doesn't mean you should‘ve stood.
Just because you spoke
Doesn't mean that you thought
Just because you looked
Doesn't mean that you sought
Just because you argued
Doesn't mean that you fought
Just because you dreamed
Doesn't mean that you wished not.
Just because you cried
Doesn't mean that you wept
Just because you had
Doesn't mean that you kept
Just because you cleaned
Doesn't mean that you swept
Just because you said yes
Doesn't mean that you accept.
Just because you gathered
Doesn't mean that you own
Just because you gave up
Doesn't mean that you were alone
Just because you saw
Doesn't mean that you were shown
Just because you expiate
Doesn't mean you should atone.
Just because your old
Doesn't mean that you have flaws
Just because you won
Doesn't mean you have to applause
Just because you waited
Doesn't mean that you paused
Just because you were you
Doesn't mean anything, because.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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I Love You, Momma part 2
In my life, Momma, you've always been there.
Sometimes, it hits me how good I have it.
My monther loves me.
She doesn't abuse me.
She doesn't hurt me willingly.
She tries to understand me.
My mother helps me go The Way.
My mother doesn't use me,
For stupid little things,
She does them herself.
My mother has a careing heart and
A loving soul.
Does she know how I love her so?
All through growing up,
She was there when I cried,
Through the good times, and the bad.
At each graduation.
She is proud of my achievements,
And I of hers.
And though I am growing up,
I will remember at least most of
Her teachings.
Someday I'll teach my own children.
A mother's love has no bounds,
and a daughter's love is also boundless.
So thank you, Momma. I love you.
Happy Mother's Day
poem by Melanie Weeks
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The Echo, The Mocking Bird
to produce the echo
i need one single voice
to make the sound
i need the hill and another hill
sort of wall
where the voice is trapped
and bounce
from one corner to another
and there you have
the echo
you are the sound
i am the hill
and another hill
i am many
much many than you
expect
do you see that tree
higher than your roof?
i am that hill beyond
the grassy field
do you see the mockingbird
sitting on the twig?
please do not mention
any name
do not drag
another one
but if no one admits
well,
it could be me
i supposed so, it can be me too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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O' Death
O' Death, why have you taken everything I loved,
O' Death, why do you keep taking my friends.
O' Death, why do you always stand at my side,
O' Death, why don't you release me when angels are calling me to heaven,
O' Death, why do you always leave me behind.
O' Death, can't you take me away from this accursed place,
O' Death, you don't hold any fear for me,
O' Death, you have seemed to be stalking me all life,
O' Death, I have grown so old yet you still spare me,
O' Death, can't you take me to the land of eternal peace.
poem by Christopher Tye
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fascination
Death fascinates;
Life can be cruel.
Death is my morbid but most-loved obsession.
Life is hard-
I am out of control.
Death is my relationship to reality-
Life is not fair.
Death is an entity of beauty, though
Life is strange…
Death is veracity, although it can be
The facet of my delusions-
I live my life while
Thoughts of death are so often invasive.
Death is mysterious, and
Life is a river refracting light-
Death is dark but intriguing.
Life is amazing.
Death in turn- is amazing as it can be.
I live my life in a dream world.
Death is indeed mysterious, although-
Life
Is
Stranger…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
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War And Death
Good bye my father…..
I am sorry for not been three for you
I am sorry Dad, for not making it up to you
I wish I could help fight the war of death
But it is a battle form above
Death is not the end of the road
Death is the passport to heaven
Dad, now you are given a visa to see what men can not see
Death knows not the boundaries between young and old or man and woman
He drove slowly; he gives Levis to who ever he sees on his way
Death is calls that will all must answer
Death does not flash
Rest in peace Dad, even when you die too young,
Not as honorable, you die a hobble death
You are my hero even duo your death puts many in sorrow
Rest in peace.
poem by Adole Sylvanus
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