A Recollection
MY father's friend came once to tea.
He laughed and talked. He spoke to me.
But in another week they said
That friendly pink-faced man was dead.
' How sad . .' they said, 'the best of men . .'
So I said too, 'How sad '; but then
Deep in my heart I thought with pride,
'I know a person who has died.'
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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til Death Do Us Part
When you look into my eyes
Tell me what you see
I dont think you even realize
The pride inside of me
Ive walked my walk, talked my talk
Lived and died in my songs
Temptation cuts so deep
Its fires still burn so strong
You know Ive lived a few mistakes
And I stand by them
Its me, myself, and i
til death do us part
If you want to criticize
Then you cant believe anything you read
What you see is all of me...
Ive talked the talk and walked the walk
Who thought Id live this long?
This lifes been hard
Like a switchblade, blind fate, suicide
And I stand by them
Its me, myself, and i
til death do us part
Sometimes my words may cut too deep
And I step on a toe or two
Well Im half dead and barely half alive
But I live by the truth
til death do us part
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For My New Friend
I read a poem the other day,
of how we should look at the inner person.
Not at the way, that person looks or dresses,
nor the texture and colour of their skin,
but the real person that lies within.
I made a new friend last week by doing exactly that.
So many people had told me
that he was arrogant and abusive,
that he expected you
to do everything for him.
The person they were talking about is a paraplegic.
He lives his days in a wheelchair,
has trouble opening doors
and doing the up the laces in his shoes.
So yes, he needs help now and then.
I was helping him navigate
through several sets of doors.
We struck up a conversation,
and as we talked I found
what none of the others had seen.
He wasn’t arrogant and abusive,
but really very polite.
He had lovely sense of humour
and lovely smile.
I could immediately sense
there was a kind heart within.
As we talked I noticed something else too,
this poor lad had a lonely side as well.
By the time we reached the final door,
which I opened, for him,
I felt a little taller.
I had gained a new friend.
We said we would talk again
and left it at that.
Today when I saw him and said “Hello.”
A large smile came across his face,
and it set everything aglow.
1 October 2007
poem by David Harris
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Zero Options
At first I thought I was day dreaming,
but very soon I realised I was not.
The man I was looking at died weeks ago
from an overdose of cocaine and pot.
The man I once knew saw me staring,
his pupils were gone from his eyes.
He was obviously a dead man walking,
and I hadn’t the time to ask him why.
My mind was in chaos with the situation;
it was unreal and just couldn’t be true.
But it was, and to prove it, I saw him,
but why, and what was I to do?
For a week I was edgy and scared witless,
and hoped I’d never see him again.
The early hours brought a knock at the door,
and someone out there spoke my name.
I looked through the door’s spy-hole,
and it was the man who was dead.
I told him this wasn’t the time for visitors,
and to come back at mid-day instead.
He said it was urgent that he spoke with me,
and I was to go with him right a way.
If I didn’t the consequences would be terrible,
and the ‘evil one’ would have the last say.
poem by Orlando Belo
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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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Farewell My Rebel Latvian (For Erica)
Farewell my noble rebel so cold and deep the grave
But you were not afraid of death and you were always brave
You were my favourite brother the one I loved the best
The rebel heart from Latvia has gone to peaceful rest.
I remember back in Germany when you and your friend ran away
You planned to go to Latvia to join the rebel fray
But of course ye did not make it as ye were far too young
you were the lad of action who spoke with rebel tongue.
Farewell my brother Johnny you never lived to see
the greatest dream you ever had that Latvia might be free,
Free of the tyrant Soviets and their brutality
We had so much in common we loved our own Country.
Farewell my rebel Latvian with dignity you died
You bore your suffering bravely and and faced the end with pride
God thought you'd suffered too much and on your life quenched the light
And now you're in a freer World where you won't have to fight
Farewell my rebel brother my heart is flood with tears
You were my king and hero in hard and bitter years
But god he loved you better he took you from your pain
And we will meet in heaven I know we'll meet again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In the Name of God
It has to be said
The streets are littered with our dead:
They talked and laughed
And then they bled,
The streets are littered with our dead.
All in the name of the Godhead.
It has to be said,
They talked and laughed
And now they're dead.
The streets are littered with our dead.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The Man Who Sold The World
We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago
Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World
I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here
We must have died alone, a long, long time ago
Who knows? Not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the Man who Sold the World
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man Who Sold The World
Written by David Bowie
We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago
Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World
I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare, at all the millions here
We must have died along, a long long time ago
Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the Man who Sold the World
(repeat)
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man Who Sold The World
We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasnt there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago
Oh no, not me
I never lost control
Youre face to face
With the man who sold the world
I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazley stare at all the millions here
We must have died along, a long long time ago
Who knows? not me
We never lost control
Youre face to face
With the man who sold the world
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man Who Sold The World
We passed upon the stairs,
We spoke of was and when
Although I wasnt there
He said I was his friend
Which came as a surprise
I spoke into his eyes -- I thought you died alone
A long long time ago
Oh no, not me,
We never lost control,
Youre face to face,
With the man who sold the world
I laughed and shook his hand,
I made my way back home,
I searched for form and land,
Years and years I roamed,
I gazed a gazely stare,
We walked a million hills -- I must have died alone,
A long long time ago.
Who knows, not me,
I never lost control,
Youre face, to face,
With the man who sold the world.
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man Who Sold The World (live, 1979-12-15: Saturday Night Live)
We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago
Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World
I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here
We must have died along, a long long time ago
Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the Man who Sold the World
Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the Man who Sold the World
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pink Rose
Somewhere
Upon my doorstep
A pink rose
Lay dying,
Although I never meant to hurt anyone,
All I could do was to pluck it from its branch
Not to give it to you –
Or to anyone,
Moreover,
Though-
It now lies haphazardly, and awkwardly
Alone in the grass in a graveyard
Withering –
All of its life has been usurped,
And-
All that is left alive is one thorn
Upon its stem,
Sticking into my side.
I cry out in pain,
But death never makes me weep, only laugh-
I know your father died some year’s ago-
Pink roses were laid upon his gravesite-
Everyone mourned, except for myself;
I placed my hand over may mouth and giggled.
I pick flowers, most often roses,
Wherever I walk,
Knowing they cannot live, when broken form their branches.
I laughed at your father’s funeral last year,
And picked a hundred pink roses form his rose garden,
I believe,
I am so sorry,
I was just being me,
I never meant to hurt anyone.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Betrayal
How can one fathom
A person to be true
In what they say
In what they do
You believe
Every thing they do
You embrace them with love
You give them your trust
You think you really know them
Only to learn its not the truth
Your heart breaks
When your faced with all
The decite and all the lies
Perhapes thats
All they really know
And it breaks your heart in two
Somewhere deep inside
The soul just needs a friend
To rely on and trust in
To help them in their hour of need
But what you think is their love
and what you think is their trust
Only turns out to be Betrayal
That breaks your heart in two
Do you stand next to them
Even though they turn away
Do you try and reach out to them
Will they even reach your helping hand
Who knows what they think
Or what they mean is truth
Ill just wait here in the background
To be a friend in need
And hope that they can see
They have a friend in me
poem by Kaila George
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Mom And Dad
If my Mom and Dad had not died
When I was young
What would my life have been like?
Would my Mom had showed me
How to use make-up;
And tell me, “not too much,
Or it will cake-up.”
What about the Father and Daughter dance;
Would my Dad had taken me,
If he had the chance.
I wonder if my Mom
Would have talked to me
About my little monthly friend;
And bring me a hot cup of tea
Every month that it began,
And let me lie in bed
With a warm heating pad.
Would my Dad had talked
To me about boys;
The one’s I should date,
The one’s to avoid.
I wonder what it would be like
To have living parents when you’re grown
Would your Mom still hold you;
And hum a happy song.
If you had a day
That didn’t go right;
Would your Dad take you out,
For a Father and Daughter night.
I wonder if I would have
Asked my Dad for money;
Would he just reach in his wallet,
And say “here you go honey.”
I wonder if my Mom and Dad
Would have cried at my first wedding.
What emotion at my divorce?
Cried at my second wedding.
At the birth of my child rejoice.
Would my Mom be in the room
When I had my first baby;
Would she had held my hand,
And said “it’s part of being a lady.”
If my parents had not died
When I was young;
Would they be proud of me?
What I grew-up to be.
Copyright © by Phyllis Strong
poem by Phyllis Strong
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Mr. Bojangles
I knew a man bojangles and he'd dance for you,
In worn out shoes,
With silver hair, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants
The old soft shoe.
He jumped so high, jumped so high
Then he'd lightly touch down.
I met him in a cell in new orleans, i was down and out.
He looked to me to be the eyes of age as he spoke right out
He talked of life, talked of life, he laughed, slapped his leg a step
(chorus)
He said his name "bojangles" then he danced a lick across the cell
He grabbed his pants, a better stance, o he jumped so hi, & he clicked his heels
He let go a laugh, let go a laugh, shook back his clothes all around
(chorus)
He danced for those at minstrel shows & county fairs,
Throughout the south
He spoke with tears of 15 years how his dog and him traveled about.
His dog up and died, up and died, after 20 years he still grieves.
(chorus)
He said i dance now at every chance in honky tonks for drinks and tips
But most the time i spend behind these county bars cause i drinks a bit
He shook his head, and as he shook his head i heard someone ask him please
(chorus)
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To His Dead Body
When roaring gloom surged inward and you cried,
Groping for friendly hands, and clutched, and died,
Like racing smoke, swift from your lolling head
phantoms of thought and memory thinned and fled.
Yet, though my dreams that throng the darkened stair
Can bring me no report of how you fare,
Safe quit of wars, I speed you on your way
Up lonely, glimmering fields to find new day,
Slow-rising, saintless, confident and kind—
Dear, red-faced father God who lit your mind.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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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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The Day I Died
The air was close, but it would not rain
The day I died.
And smog enshrouded Gotham town
The day I died..
I should have stayed in Oceanside
The day I died.
Instead of a hellish subway ride
The day I died.
It started with a stabbing pain
The day I died.
Then waves of nausea deep inside
The day I died.
I fell to earth, I could not breathe
The day I died.
Co workers rushing to my side
The day I died.
Sirens scream on distant streets
The day I died.
bringing hosts of E.M.T.’s
The day I died..
Too late for me, this proud heart fails
The day I died.
I thought” This is the last of Earth”
The day I died.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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About Eric
There is a similarity about them.
Eric, and my father.
Quiet men, who went about their lives
doing well for others.
Gentle men, who didn't seek rewards,
the doing would suffice.
When I talk with Eric,
memories of my father come flooding back.
The timbre of his voice,
an occasional gesture,
the size and shape of him.
I look forward to those moments joyously,
sometimes sadly.
My father's passing?
An unfathomable void.
To Eric, I repeat the words I spoke
the night my father died.
'Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.'
Eric Smith, friend and mentor, died on
January 4,2006 aged 92
poem by Jerry Hughes
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When I Died
The day they won,
i picked up a gun
3 bullets to the head
Pride,
strength,
courage
then i was dead
When i died,
irealized
i was the one who pulled the trigger,
and the digger,
of my own grave
3 bullets
1-pride; denying pain i hide
2-the strength; to defend what i feel inside
3-the courage to have pride
so away i went...
into the light
inspite that i might,
seek answers
get my questions answered
with out sticker shock
or again getting shot
but im already dead so who cares?
who cares,
that i still have nightmares
cuz i'm dead,
and i the one who behead
myself
when i died i took 3 bullets to the head
pride,
strength,
courage,
and still lying here, DEAD
poem by Brittney Phillips
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