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On The Death Of My Father

My brain has turned to ash, and yes,
My mouth is dust,
And love is grief, and death is
But the loss of trust;
While life is paupered, futures turn,
Feed on the past,
And dwell on words you might have…
If I’d only asked!

No point to dwell again, but yet
I must, I will;
Was there some hint, a glimpse perhaps
You’d long distilled,
Was I so blind, insensible
And dead to grief
That death could snatch you carelessly,
Some petty thief.

Perspectives shift, horizons narrow,
Drift my sand,
Your loss has marked my end, that shallow
Sleight of man,
What now remains of you, I am
Though poor in creed,
For what you were was love, and this
I’ve lost indeed.

1 August 1987

poem by David Lewis Paget
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I Know This Poor Bloke

I know this poor bloke in the mood for suicide
And he has felt heavy hearted since the day his wife died
Some five years ago his ache of loss from him not gone
And till the day of his death his grief with him will live on.

I do meet him often though not every day
And for words to him I always feel stuck to say
He always talks of his dead wife and the grief that he feel
And for him I feel sorry since his sorrow is real.

On his sense of loss with him I sympathize
And each time I see him he has tears in his eyes
My condolences to him I already did pay
But the grief that he feels it is with him to stay.

The price of true love it can come at a great cost
And he is left to mourn for what he has lost
One in his late sixties his hair silvery gray
And the clock on his life it is ticking away.

A man due to grief in the mood for suicide
Though he is one now I would rather avoid
Since each time I meet him he talks of his dead wife
And I am one who needs laughter in my life.

poem by Francis Duggan
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I Come to Dwell In This Loneliness

I come to dwell in this loneliness.
It is my turn to do it as I wish!
I am not that far away from moonbeams,
And stars.
But right now I'd rather ponder my heart...
Where it is,
And who has a part!

I come to dwell in this loneliness.
Thinking of those I love...
And how much they are missed!
In a way I can only say,
As a poet can convey.

I come to dwell in this loneliness.
But torment and grief...
Is not what I am here treating!
I am remembering them,
With love that wont end!

I come to dwell in this loneliness.
It is my turn to do it as I wish!
And when I am finished,
I feel a burden lift!
Without agony relived...
Since I am aware,
Love is still there.
And for me I realize,
True love was shared!

I come to dwell in this loneliness.
And it's okay...
It does not stay.
Like the love that was known,
And remembered shown that way!

I come to dwell in this loneliness.
And when this period permits...
It will leave me lifted,
When it is done with its visit!

I come to dwell in this loneliness.
But not to hide...
Or become absorbed with it!
It is my turn to do it as I wish!
And when it departs,
It leaves a happiness in my heart!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Healing

My pain is deep, so deep no water on earth compares
no mountain can bear my weight of grief I carry
no volcano can erupt as my heart
can from its deepest despair
no stars can blind like that from the light of death
no tree I climb will take me to heaven's gate to you
no prayer will bring you back to my side again
no miracle can be asked for, but understanding
no loss is greater than the loss of a child
but within my silence I find my sight
serenity and strength to peel back the layers of grief
to heal my burning body of heartache
and turn my darkened world to a brighter one.

poem by Alex Sarich
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Emotional Scavenger

And now in the cold light of day,
Grief casts her shadows long,
and grey
Draining warmth & blinding me
To the glorious hope
Of day;
Grief would steal my soul and hide it
In blackness,
Whispering reminders
Of pain,
And loss,
And death…
Mocking hope's insistence,
Spurning love's comfort;
Grief watches,
Expectant, she waits…
Grief, scavenger of emotions,
Is ever hopeful.

poem by Jinge Norvall
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What is loss?

I resent
What loss represents
I resent
What great loss presents

So what’s the fuss about loss?

Waiting!
Debating!
Contemplating!

What is loss?
Something you care about
Taken away from you by force
Creating total unforgivable chaos

Thinking!
Blinking!
Seeking!

What is loss
It is a minus instead of a plus
Hence the unmistakable fuss
Death and sickness build up great grief
Loss brings despair instead of relief
And in loss itself I have no belief

I resent
What loss represents
I resent
What great loss presents

Loss! An inequitable cause
Thrown on you without a toss
So you become very cross
Because in your life you realize, you are never the only boss!

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable

The death of a twelve year old,
Her sister shed tears,
But the body was cold,
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.

She felt all had lost hope,
It was her fault,
'I let go the rope! '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.

'I should have pulled her up'
'I lost grip'
'I should'nt have given up! '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.

'You trusted me! '
'And there is no reason....'
' No you shouldn't have, see? '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.

'No! It's not your fault! ',
Said her sister,
Who lay dead in the vault,
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.

poem by Ulveena Aitzaz
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Dark Trinity

Said I to Pain: "You would not dare
Do ill to me."
Said Pain: "Poor fool! Why should I care
Whom you may be?
To clown and king alike I bring
My meed of bane;
Why should you shirk my chastening?"
Said Pain.

Said I to Grief: "No tears have I,
Go on your way."
Said Grief: "Why should I pass you by,
While others pay?
All men must know the way of woe,
From saint to thief,
And tears were meant to overflow,"
Said Grief.

Said I to Death: "From ail and fret
Grant me relief."
Said Death: "I know you are beset
By Pain and Grief.
But my good will you must await
Since human breath
To suffering is consecrate,"
Said Death.

Said I to God: "Pale Sister Grief,
Bleak Brother Pain,
Bedevil me beyond belief,
And Death's unfain . . ."
Said God: "Curse not that blessed Three,
Poor human clod!
Have faith! Believe the One with Me,"
Said God.

poem by Robert William Service
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Disingenuousness

Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.

Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:

Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!

Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.

The March of Death

Death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Fulfilment

Was there love once? I have forgotten her.
Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.
Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir
More grief, more joy, than love of thee and thine.

Faces cheerful, full of whimsical mirth,
Lined by the wind, burned by the sun;
Bodies enraptured by the abounding earth,
As whose children we are brethern: one.

And any moment may descend hot death
To shatter limbs! Pulp, tear, blast
Belovèd soldiers who love rough life and breath
Not less for dying faithful to the last.

O the fading eyes, the grimed face turned bony,
Oped mouth gushing, fallen head,
Lessening pressure of a hand, shrunk, clammed and stony!
O sudden spasm, release of the dead!

Was there love once? I have forgotten her.
Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.
O loved, living, dying, heroic soldier,
All, all my joy, my grief, my love, are thine.

poem by Robert Nichols
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Loss is sustained

Every loss gives me a grief.
What remains then gives me relief.
Relief thus encompasses the grief.
Every loss is well sustained.
09.07.2006

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Unknown Grief

Unknown Grief
Mark Kelly Wassenaar (AKA Wazzy)

You never expect to know the word grief
Until it comes to you
It comes in, like a thief
Then you take a critical review

Who really knows what grief is
It could be you, or me, or your teddy bear
If only we could see his
Come with me, I’ll give you a dare

All I ask is that you’ll see
What grief does to you and me
Maybe at the end we’ll all agree
That it need not be all for thee

Have you seen death of one or more
Have they been of love or worse
Does it cause a whole body war
Does it put you in a hearse

If all these apply to you
Maybe you know what grief may be
All this time you withdrew
It makes you feel like abductees

If you like, you may join my cause
Get together with your bands
To end all grief within our paws
To clear our enemy from our hands

poem by Mark Wazzy
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Beyond the grief.

It seems as if we are stalled by our grief,
unable to move away from it – and I wonder
if we will ever get over the loss of you. In time
they say we will, that one day we will finally be free
of the sadness that burdens our hearts, and we will dance
in our remembrance, and there will be no more tears.

But if that's true, I must admit I will miss the tears
when there is an eventual easing of the grief.
I am not as eager to begin the dance
of life without you, for the world has lost its wonder
for me, some of its shine - and being free
seems awfully relative - I suppose just like time.

I can still so clearly recall the last time
we were all together - the tears
we shared, even laughter, when you were set free
of this earthly pain - and even in our grief,
we were filled with such wonder
as we witnessed the end of life's dance.

When I was a little boy you used to let me dance
on the top of your shoes, moving in time
to the music on the radio. Is it any wonder
that music, to this day, brings tears
of joy, mingled with the ever-present grief,
which still has not set me completely free.

I now realize there is a cost to love; it's not free -
for when you love, you buy a ticket to the dance
of life - which comes with joy and pain, celebration and grief.
And if you have lived a long enough time,
as I have, even when the loss brings never ending tears,
with a broken heart, it's worth all of the pain, and it's no wonder

people love so fiercely - so much so that they cease to wonder
about the why, when or where - and now I realize that I am free
to love, and to lose, which will bring with it many tears.
But each tear is worth it - and seems to make the dance
more authentic. In the end, I will measure my time
by how much of it was filled with love, and with grief.

No longer will I wonder whether or not I should dance,
I will just be free, stepping in and out of time,
wearing my tears like a badge of honor as I move beyond the grief.

poem by Mahfooz Ali
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It's Death Again

It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'

The Reign of Death

Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Try *Unreal edit

I am the ruin-er of all dreams
The darkest of angels so it seams
Lock me away forever
This is my second endeavor

In a room without a key
No longer can I ruin your dreams
No lights, no points, no knifes
No point to wait till the end of my life

Eyes to dilate to there peak
To return to normal never again
No point it's lost all away
With the willing loss of every friend

Unknowing of what else to do
I shut this all down because of you
I quite it all every temptation
To show you your true loves discretion

I hate the fact you take it as
A loss of love a loss of life
But all it is is just a sense
Of how hard I really really try

You do not see the love I have
I shut it off I quite it all
To show you that I really try
But off the cliff I slip and fall

It does not matter to myself at all
For you are all that's left I care
I try to show you speak it out
But a lack for the words I am without

You will not trust
You say I lie
If that's how you feel
I wish to die

Because if they don't work
Then I can not deal
Without my words
I am unreal

poem by Matt Burgett
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Hope in Heaven's Day

Grief be mine, I ask you so,
If not for you, I wouldn't know,
How life once was and then be still,
How so precious, that death do steal.
Because that grief, won't go away,
Learn to let it have its way.
The link to love, a precious one,
Is met with grief and still not done.
The days do come, and nights do go,
Grief will stay as time is so.
And so a loved one passes on,
And grief comes in and carries on.
Does grief get better, I will ask,
It's hard to say, while at its task.
There is grief to help us cope,
There is God to give us hope.
Grief will surely go away,
On that glorious heaven's day.
But while its here, there's just one thing,
Pray our Lord, for peace he'll bring.

poem by Arlene Dery
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A loss

Loss of a dream
Loss of a life
Loss of a love
Loss of a path
Loss of a power

This is what I lost,
In this vast world of war.

poem by Austin Courtney
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Aftermath

We overplayed and underplayed our parts
And paid the price; we went our separate ways
For me to think of you, and you of me
Some part of all our long and restless days.
For what advantage? We may never know,
We cloud each other's vision at the hearth,
I loved you well, but love was not enough
We neither paused to give the other breath.

Like people trapped behind the moving screen
We both replay our scenes, we freeze each frame
Of shrugs, of nuance, words of lost intent
We blurted out in anger all the same.
But anger rests, and now there's only loss
As keen for me as you, I must confess
If I could still regain the way I came -
But mist and chill obscure our waywardness.

We charmed and chafed each other in our turn,
We stormed and raged, and whispered words of love,
And tried to use the magic we had known
To lighten hearts that long had ceased to move.
But at the end you left me in your pain
And I was too resigned to turn your head,
I'd fought and loved, and fought and loved in vain
'Til love was some black season I had bled.

What now for us, the doors are shut and barred,
The shutters strain at every passing gust,
And winter freezes over at the heart
To chill the brief young season of our lust.
We may yet meet at some pre-destined time
When life has buried both beneath its dross,
And I may look at you, and you at me
Without this deep and dreadful sense of loss.

23 August 1987

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Everything is connected

Asked to describe life
I said: ' the peaceful moments
with the friends you meet.'

Asked to describe friends
I said: ' the people you love
and care for daily.'

Asked to describe love
I said: ' feelings of goodwill
you have until death.'

Asked to describe death
I said: ' The equaliser
joy becomes nothing.'

Asked to describe joy
I said: ' opposite of sad
the happy feelings.'

Asked to describe sad
I said: ' opposite of joy
feelings of great loss.'

Asked to describe loss
I said: ' it occurs in life
regardless of us.'

Asked to describe life
I said: ' the peaceful moments
with the friends you meet.'

Everything is connected.

poem by Krantol Northic
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Love, Grief, Death, Peace and Life Make War

Love, grief, death, peace, and life make war.
Within the grasps of victory, here lies grief.
Striving to keep a soul alive, thriving for life
whispers of sanity fade from the sight of death.
An outstretched limb pleading for a touch of peace
as a memory of happiness fills the heart with love.

Controlling senses fester upon a long lost love,
breathing in deep, it’s the smell of a war.
Muffled cries creep into your soul, pleading for peace.
You lick your blood stained lips, tasting the bitter grief.
piercing voices thunder upon the ground, accepting death
as a memory of loneliness fills their heart with an absence of life.

Tears of blood come forth into a dimension of twisted life.
The air, heavy and hot, hover over you ridding the land of any former love.
A chorus of saints and sinners sing to you, singing the song of death,
”O come ye child, come into my arms and rid yourself of this war.
Gather your mind and venture to the morrow, leaving behind this haunting grief,
for it is not your fault that this world does not know peace.”

You close your eyes, feeling the sensation of eternal peace.
You can not move any aching limb, within an inch of life
you follow the scent of reigning mud, caking itself to the world’s own grief.
Wandering past the forgotten lives to seek the one true love
that carries upon it’s shoulders, a burden of war.
This land can no longer hold itself with peace as all the peace has turned to death.

Forging itself upon your spirit, the lies no longer live, now it is only death
that caresses your body like a mother so tender, illuminating the one and only peace.
Taunting you to go and be afraid no more, taunting and taunting, this is war.
With one last plea, you beg and cry for the voices to take your life
as you know that the searching prisms of hope will find your love
and they will abolish the need of any misery and any grief.

Once more do the saints and sinners sing of your grief
only this time, there is no mourning of war and death.
They’ve come to pour into your heart, a sound so divine. It is love.
”Dear child, dear child, no more shall you weep, we are here, we’re your peace.
Come with us to a land so pure, where love is eternal and death is not near. We will give you life.
With a trust so deep, take our hands and no more, no more, shall this be your burden of war.”

In times of sorrow and fear, lost is the value of love and peace.
All is forgotten while caged by grief and watching the slaughter of life.
You watch your fallen brothers, reaching for help, you hear the despair in all their voices.
You’re the saint and sinner, giving them hope.
You cease your thoughts, you must fight on.
You aim your gun, praying for death. This is war.

poem by Mason Letoto
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Sift And Shift

with grief are black veils of women
trying to filter the gleaming of tears
with grief are the hands trying to
sift and shift the sounds of the cries
with grief are women
mourning for the deaths of men
for the loss of children
for the rape of the earth
the thin crust of morals
dirt of the feet
dusts.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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