vanished
Debts spiralling, one chance,
‘Fake death' and disappearance.
For the insurance claim, just one aim.
New future, ‘new life',
No one knew except his wife.
‘Terrible tragedy', 'Lost' at sea.
Massive search ensued, he was not ‘rescued'!
Presumed ‘dead', the lie was fed.
Family shattered to the core, Darwin ‘hidden' room next door.
Five years continued the sham' and the scam!
Finally their ‘luck' ran out, ‘caught'!
By ‘photo' on the net.
Brought back to book,
Their families it ‘shook'.
The World felt sorry for each relative.
Them left with a ‘life scar' despite the motive.
Their ‘Mum & Dad', sons' chose to ignore,
The parents betrayed them, situation to deplore.
Man with a plan and a canoe!
He and her carried through.
December.2008
poem by Guy Lipmore
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Related quotes
A Tale of Four Lives
The two brought their parents no glory, all they brought was shame
One was convicted of murder; the other eloped with a dame
The parents were left alone with a son getting life term in jail
About the other was nothing known, of him no one could tell!
They pined away in grief, before their tears dried up
Life was all a dark alley, full was misery’s cup
Thus rolled the years, then came the appointed date
If ever the forlorn souls could know their lost son’s fate!
Their lives broken and their dreams shattered
They went to their graves, it little mattered
What about the sons, what happened to them?
One died in jail, the other lost his dame!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Family's End
I was born into a world were family is everything
When one is down, the others forget the world to help them out
Sharing cares, and sharing paryers around the table for a feast
Had me believe that's what that small word means
Now lately I don't know what to think
Of the changes this family seeks
I mean, I want us all to be happy forever
But that just seems impossiable with us all together
Now I know mama, you don't feel the same for dad
Dad I understand mama makes you mad
And ya'll are here just for us kids
Not as lovers, just as friends
We're the key to this family
And when we're off the lock there's nothing left to be
Our parents will be appreciated seperatlly
Cause thats what it takes for them to be happy
And all the stories we would say
All the games that we would play
All the memories
Got me in disbelief
I remember our trip to Disney World
You brought back the parents I had as a little girl
Were the peace was only for a moment
But thats enough to keep us going
I know we fight I know we bump heads
But we're a family in the end
I just don't to keep pretending
That I don't know it's time is ending
I know I say 'I hate you' sometimes
I know I used to wish you weren't alive
Mama wasn't your wife, that you weren't in my life
But now I'm happy you're here
And now I don't want you to go
The family we held I can't let go
Even though I used, now the thought just leaves me cold
This family has been through it all
The other siblings that don't know us at all
And they hate it when we call, but we're just trying to do the right thing
Trying to create the perfect family
When you see us you see smiles of grace
But thats not what's hidden behind our face
The world of joy we can't ignore
Thats why we put up with what we want more
But it seems like thats all it means
To be stressed about us kids theirs no time to be married
You're just human beings
Now our family's so confused
I never thought past my childhood that I put all my trust into
I thought together forever's all we will be
And now nothing's as it seems
I know when you had us you were young
It wasn't love you just were sprung
And now you realized we're moving on
so now it's you chance to claim you're done
And I just our family to stay
I don't want to accept our family change
We're everything seems to fade away
Like theres some sort of experation date
And I just want us to be happy
And not any of us to forget
Once we were an almost perfect family
But not everything goes as you wanted
poem by Sugar Bear
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The Wife of Flanders
Low and brown barns, thatched and repatched and tattered,
Where I had seven sons until to-day,
A little hill of hay your spur has scattered. . . .
This is not Paris. You have lost your way.
You, staring at your sword to find it brittle,
Surprised at the surprise that was your plan,
Who, shaking and breaking barriers not a little,
Find never more the death-door of Sedan --
Must I for more than carnage call you claimant,
Paying you a penny for each son you slay?
Man, the whole globe in gold were no repayment
For what you have lost. And how shall I repay?
What is the price of that red spark that caught me
From a kind farm that never had a name?
What is the price of that dead man they brought me?
For other dead men do not look the same.
How should I pay for one poor graven steeple
Whereon you shattered what you shall not know?
How should I pay you, miserable people?
How should I pay you everything you owe?
Unhappy, can I give you back your honour?
Though I forgave, would any man forget?
While all the great green land has trampled on her
The treason and terror of the night we met.
Not any more in vengeance or in pardon
An old wife bargains for a bean that's hers.
You have no word to break: no heart to harden.
Ride on and prosper. You have lost your spurs.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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She Does Deserve Great Sympathy
Ageing Bella in the house at the corner outdoors she is not often seen
She was a potential swimming Olympian till a motoring accident she had at eighteen
Brought an end to her swimming career back in ninteen seventy three
And condemned her to life in a wheelchair she does deserve great sympathy.
She could not compete in the Olympics and swim her way into renown
And become the toast of the Nation and the heroine of her Hometown
It robbed her of her chance of having children she has never been any man's wife
one might say she was quite unlucky that accident ruined her life.
She is quite an attractive woman her brown hair flecked with strands of gray
She had spent years of her life in a wheelchair seven to ten years before her prime day
when I meet her she smiles and says hello but sometimes she looks rather sad
I can only empathize with her a terrible life she has had.
Thirty six of her fifty four years in a wheelchair since her widowed mum died five years ago she has lived on her own
Lady luck is surely against her a terrible life she has known
Confined to a wheelchair due to a car crash on the highway which robbed her of her chance of fame
In swimming she was a young champion and for herself making a name.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Loved Stranger
I remembered I'd promised my Aunt Adele before she died
that I'd get in touch with her family in Oz
just to put matters to rest, since they'd not spoken for years
since she upped and went off with this Pom
and left the family without its clever high-earner...
I wasn't looking forward to it with all that bad blood -
'Enough for a vampire's transfusion' said my uncle, the culprit -
but a promise is a promise. I had Auntie's old phone book;
worked out the time here that would be Sunday afternoon in Oz.
The voice was open, strong, friendly - I guessed I'd hit
that great moment when they'd had the barbie,
the few beers after the few beers,
the guests had just gone off
and the washing-up could wait until after a beer...
He was really glad I'd phoned -
he'd been away from the family most of his life, one reason and another -
so we didn't have much to try to piece together
which was probably a good thing, could've been
a pretty forced, stilted conversation -
so we got chatting about one thing and another,
our different lifestyles, our families -
and you know how it is, strangers on a train and all that,
got quite carried away, about how much we enjoyed life,
loved our wives and families, wouldn't change a thing,
what life had taught us - almost anything, everything really
like we were old friends who hadn't met up for years..
It was quite late on in the conversation, when we were working out
if we couldn't fix up a family visit, and he'd said,
no, they'd never lived in Adelaide (after which city
Aunt was proudly named - 'greatest city on earth' they said,
not having travelled further than Sydney -)
when I realised I'd phoned the wrong number; but
felt good and he too I guess.
So I had to choose the moment
to laugh and say hey this is an expensive call,
talk to the wife and call you back, Jacko...
I've never known my family so bloody merry
as when the story got around.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Committing Suicide
God it seems so sad he held his pain inside
And chose to end his life committing suicide.
Believing no one cared wishing he was gone
He somehow lost the strength and will to just move on.
Not seeking help he needed or confiding in a friend
He decided painful feelings are feelings that don't end.
So reaching for the gun he raised it to his head
And pulled the trigger back and instantly was dead.
Leaving many questions to all those left behind
And answers they could search for but somehow never find.
No one ever knew his feelings no one knew he cried
Or why he chose to end his life
'Committing Suicide.'
poem by Sherri Vogel
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Two Strangers
In 1958, I last saw someone
whom would disappear from my life
until December 2006.
Our meeting was not face to face,
but across the internet.
Three cheers for technology.
She recognised me from an old school photo
it was not until I saw the class photo
after she pointed out herself
that I did recognise who she was.
For countless years you see,
I thought of her under a different name
which why I did not recognise her straight away.
The New Year came and we talked
about how our lives in the intervening years.
She introduced me to a friend
whom did the same thing as me - write.
At first, I was confused
and within our correspondence,
my confusion did show.
I gave out so many mixed signals
that I shudder to think at what she thought.
Slowly as time passed,
I grew more admiration for these two strangers
who suddenly entered into my life
and they became firm friends.
Years before I had given up on writing,
the one thing that I did best.
Like two earth angels,
they lifted me and carried me though
to a new chapter in my life.
The names of these two angels
are Suzanne Gaddess and Melvina Germain.
Between them both,
they gave me friendship
and much, much more.
They dragged me from the pit of despair
and showed me the right road to take.
I have never looked back since,
well only occasionally
to make sure my two loving friends are still there.
In 2009, I plan to meet them
and give each some great big hugs
to these two wonderful strangers
I met across the internet.
14 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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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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Everything Is Going To Be Like My Plan
Duty must be fulfilled
But everything is going to be like my plan
People could lie to me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Pray may be often
But everything is going to be like my plan
Time flies uncontrolled
But everything is going to be like my plan
Destiny may not be cooperated
But everything is going to be like my plan
Other plan may ruin mine
But everything is going to be like my plan
Body is reaching the limit
But everything is going to be like my plan
The will should be strengthened
But everything is going to be like my plan
The anxiety may be doubled
But everything is going to be like my plan
Critics never disappear
But everything is going to be like my plan
Life is unfair
But everything is going to be like my plan
The way seems lost
But everything is going to be like my plan
Regret is gnawing my sense
But everything is going to be like my plan
The goal still far away
But everything is going to be like my plan
The future end may unseen
But everything is going to be like my plan
Source may not be enough
But everything is going to be like my plan
Things always change
But everything is going to be like my plan
Problem keeps occurring
But everything is going to be like my plan
World would laugh
But everything is going to be like my plan
Failure keeps happening
But everything is going to be like my plan
Memories may not help
But everything is going to be like my plan
Luck may test me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Love may not support me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Weather wants to rebel
But everything is going to be like my plan
The form may be different
But everything is going to be like my plan
Hope could fool me
But everything is going to be like my plan
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Pains of Divorce
His entire life was in his pocket
Starting from his daughters hair locket.
A few pictures of him and his family
Reminding him of how things used to be.
A crumbled up note saying:
Daddy ! I love you - I want you home.
This is where you belong.
The divorce had not gone too well
He had put his family through a living hell.
He felt the pressures getting to him
Of things he did and places he’d been
Of a life that he had been ashamed
He turned to alcohol to ease the pain.
They say with friends he had been
Who Turned to crime and to sin.
they convinced him that
This business was easy prey
And with this they could get away.
He got caught and served some time
Got out of jail and was doing fine.
Then he ran across the same old crowd
Drinking in a bar and getting loud.
Since he had met them his life had changed
He left the bar in a fit of rage.
This rage soon opened up his mind
And he fell to the floor and began to cry.
He asked himself: how is it! that we lose our way
We leave our families and go astray.
How is it! That love is like wine
It gets you drunk and leaves you blind.
How is it! That we fall under loves spell
It makes us happy- or it puts us thru hell.
How is it! That we see faults in others
But not in ourselves.
Do we think that we could hide it
And no one can tell.
He was putting the blame on him falling in love
And wanting to give his family so much more
That he lost himself and forgot the score.
He recalled: I once felt like a king on his throne
And now I’m left all alone.
I knew what it was like to make love
Under the stars above.
I would feel your heart beating on top of mine
And thought that we’d be together till the end of time.
Those beautiful nights and those fantastic days
Where I would make love to you in every way.
Like a fool I let this all slip away.
He found religion on that night
Turned his life around, and began his plight
He would fight to get his family back
He would not give up the slack.
The pains of divorce changed his way
And he knew he would never stray.
His wife saw the change in him
And decided to take him back in.
His daughter now happy as can be
Because once again she had her family.
poem by Louis Rams
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Being Dead
They came to her to tell her that she was dead-
passed away in her sleep.
But, ' she retorted, this must be a dream
and cannot be so-
I'm not dead-perhaps still asleep.'
'No', they said, 'dead and nothing to be done;
acceptance not denial is what is requiews here.'
She felt her arms and said 'See I am alive, still here.'
'Illusion.' they said The dead always try to keep the illusion of life
because that is all they know
life is gone from you now, the book is closed.
'This is absurd; ' she said 'let me out of here.
I am alive, not dead and gone'
'There is nothing to stop you leaving they said, ' he said 'you can always leave life you understand is but a tree with death as it final branch.
She got up and walked to what looked like a door paused opening it gingerly blinded by a briight white, so she shut it again turning to face again to her interlocutors.
'What is going on where am I? ' she said.
They ignored her whispering among themselves finally facing her, one of them saying;
'We can give special dispensation and perhaps...'
She interrupted him, 'Special dispensation, what is that? '
'Well' he said 'you can go, leave here if you like, but only for three days and if…'
If, if what.' she said.
'in those two days you can walk among the living but they will not be able to see or hear you
and if you can some how communicate with them,
make your self feel alive to them
and they want you to come back,
then you can perhaps go back, go back among the living,
That will be permanent until you die again,
understanding, of course, that in time
we all die.'
Convince them? How can I do that if they cannot hear or see me?
'Well you can go among them, ' one of them explained
'and even though they will not be able to hear or see you,
your spirit will be present and that will be the trigger among them
signaling their desire for your return,
then that might make your return possible.'
'Not see or hear me, ' she said 'but how then will I be able to convince them I am alive? This makes no sense.'
'Oh yes it does. You have to get them to conjure you in their memory, wish you were still alive, remember you fondly,
wish you were still with them after all this time.'
'All this time? ', she said.
How long have I been dead? '
'Well now they said 'it has been over five years now.'
'Five years! ' she said incredulously.
'Yes five years.' he said.
'I know people forget, even loved ones can forget
you after five years, and they go on with their lives.'
'Yes, our point exactly, ' he said, 'then you are not only dead but not remembered, and being not remembered is true death'
Do you want to go, go back
understanding that if you fail,
your death will then be death true final test? '
She paused thinking how hurtful it would be
if she could not get anyone to conjure her memory..
'What happens' she said 'if I succeed and some one remembers me and wants me back? '
'That is the point someone can remember you yourself may not want to come back. That part is important.'
'And, ' he said 'you may not want to go back. If you do go back there might be loved ones who have moved on with their lives.'
.
'What about my husband, has he moved on? ' she said?
They did not answer.
'We can tell you nothing. These things you will have to find out for yourself.
Some, ' he said 'find out and want to come back here. Each is different-take your time.
She stood thinking about what to do.
To be continued
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Life Goes On
A friend of mine just had a real bad time.
You see, his life was shattered and he lost his mind.
His girl ran off along with his best friend,
And through emotional stress he brought his life to an end.
It was such a tragedy,
But thats the way its got to be.
Life goes on.
Life goes on.
It happens evry day.
So appreciate what you got
Before its taken away.
Life will hit you
When youre unprepared,
So be grateful and take all
That you can while youre there.
Get that frown off your head,
cause youre a long time dead.
Life goes on and on and on.
Life goes on and on and on.
No use runnin round lookin scared,
Life could get you when youre unaware.
One day its gonna come, so you better accept it.
Life will hit you when you least expect it.
And one day when you are gone,
You know that life will still go on.
But no onell care if youve been good, bad, right or wrong.
Life will still go on.
My bank went broke and my well ran dry.
It was almost enough to contemplate suicide.
I turned on the gas, but I soon realized
I hadnt settled my bill so they cut off my supply.
No matter how I try, it seems Im too young to die.
Life goes on and on and on.
Life goes on and on and on.
Tornado, cyclone and hurricane
Can batter the houses with the thunder and rain.
Blizzards can blow; the waves hit the shore,
But the people recover and come back for more.
Somehow the people fight back, even the future looks black.
Life goes on and on and on.
Life goes on and on and on.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Very hard
Very hard
Parents expressed helplessness
Worry lines could be seen on their face
Further study was beyond their control to afford
I was full of tears and prayed lord
I begged to friends for old books to read
They merely showed scant respect and shook head
It was not only the problem with books but with uniform too
Night had descended on earth only for me and it was true
I saw dark clouds hovering over head
Complete future looked bleak and dead
No help was to come from any corner
Those days were really unforgettable and grimmer
I used to cry in one corner
Curse the luck and saw it as eye opener
One must work very hard for children
Not a little hardship should be faced by them even
I could understand the agony and pain
Parents were helpless to ask me again
I was not blaming them either
I was dear flower to them and brought me up as Gardner
Even though very poor they cared me at every stage
Now it was my turn to change the history and write new page
At whatever consequence I might have to face future course
It must be done bravely to augment some income in their purse
Life mission had become now so important to me
I was to take decision very fairly and free
Parents were now my first priority
They were to me very dear and next to almighty
I preferred service to mother land
Lovely chance to lay down life for holy land
What else can be a chance to be considered as honorable?
Rich or poor can have the same opportunity on table
Uniform gave me sense of pride
There was visible comforts and nothing to hide
World had become large and very wide
I was no poor boy now felt no divide
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Addictive Gambler
Addicted Gambler
This is a sad tale
Of a man who gambled and failed
His desire was to get rich quick
But he ended up being a losing freak
Daily withdrawals from the cash machine
Yet with money he was so mean
Never ate hence so thin and lean
Smoked away with bad breath and skin
He had other hidden talents
Which were vividly silent?
He was creative
Very imaginative
But none of that ever became lucrative
An addicted gambler
Who tried his hands at everything?
To see what his luck might bring
Spent hours scratching cards at Bingo
Tried poker though he did not know the lingo
Played and lost on various fruit machines
Never ever satisfied with a days win
Gambled on so many horses
Which all brought heavy losses?
In misery he resorted to alcohol
This also contributed to his downfall
Lost all his friends
In vain tried to make amends
After missing so many appointments
Several times he threw in the towel
When he realised
He had no more personal possessions to sell
Saying life really sucks
I don’t seem to be having any luck
But he was an addicted gambler
It was only a question of time
When he will sneak out of home as if a crime
To gamble his newly acquired wealth away again
An addicted Gambler
Absorbed with heavy numerous debts
Caused by large unreasonable bets
Spending his entire wage
Was a daily chapter in his book and page
That grew worse and worse with every age
Always borrowing more money
From his friends and family in a hurry
Saying please I wouldn’t do it again, I am sorry
His family knew he desperately required
Psychiatric assistance
That very momentarily instance
Or his mental state
Would be beyond maintenance
A very befalling state
Several times he threw in the towel
When he had no more personal possessions to sell
Saying life really sucks
I don’t seem to be having any luck
But he was an addicted gambler
It was only a question of time
When he will sneak out of home as if a crime
To gamble his money away again
After so many years he finally gave up
He knew it was about time to eventually stop
He lost it all
There were no more friends to call
He did not even have little money to have a ball
What a sad story said the coroner
This young man must have been a total loner
What an addictive gambler
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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0168Letter to a Troubled Youngster
you come from a family that –
well, I’ve known better and,
I’ve certainly known worse..
but all you want right now
is to get right away from them,
live your own life, make
your own mistakes.. and
half of you is looking forward to
doing just that, and
half of you’s not sure..
OK so far? I’m trying to be fair…
now here are some sketches of
what life may hold:
there’s the random, no-plan plan –
life happens; no plan, no control;
or there’s the existentialist view:
I make my own life, I’m in control,
and then I live it; that’s it,
I’m strong.
or there’s the Indian view:
that in some timeless way
which may be, how you played it
in a previous life; or right now, as outside time;
you’ve set yourself this scenario which
you’ve got another chance, now,
to improve, resolve, in order to..
live fully? be your own real self?
be happy? help the world? ..
fill this one in yourself
or there’s the view that God,
the gods, the Fates (fill this one in, too
or leave it blank for later) , anyway
Someone Up There or
Someone In Here
has – as the Stoics believed –
set your life as a series of
lessons to be learned. The right answers
that you may or may not have got right
may or may not be at the back of the book
but with a bit of luck, you’ll have a pretty clear idea
with this in mind, of how it’s going
But whichever, the great thing is –
treat all the hurdles as
challenges to overcome; even,
if you’re that strong, look forward every day
to what may happen; and when it does,
be glad, whether it seems ‘good’ or ‘bad’,
give it your full and glad acceptance, ’cos
that’s how it’s going to be, anyways..and
you may learn more that way
and have a lot of fun in the sense
of freedom, that this view will, shall, bring
and sorry if all this is trite.. it’s the best that
I can do; have sometimes done;
and no, I haven’t always followed
my own advice..
so enjoy, and good luck.. for, who knows,
it may not be just luck
poem by Michael Shepherd
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In The Way Back Then
Seven years ago,
I went back to Canada
after forty-two years.
I walked down a road
to show my wife where I used to live.
The road was built on rolling hills
and as I came over one,
I knew instantly where I was.
Things had changed
in those forty-two years,
some would say
it was unrecognisable
from what I used to know,
but as soon as I started down the hill
things came back like yesterday.
It was as if I had never been away.
Memories of my childhood
instantly sprang to mind.
I found myself seeing things
not as the now,
but there were changes
from the way back then.
The memory flashes
brought a smile to my face
as I could visualise
all the friends I knew then,
the funny incidents that over my life
in the way back then.
All too soon, time
has a way of taking things back
and my memory reclined them
to the back door of my mind.
30 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Beyond the Tears - 1826
Beyond cold tears, old fears, exotic dream
Extends to mend trust broken, to restore
Years lost - cost dear - discovers joy once more,
Opens door to tender longing's gleam.
New opportunity may free hope's beam,
Draw white through life's prism lighting rainbow core.
THE future whispers 'Heed forever's call! '
TEARS pass, with love, enchantress, healing all.
(7 December 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Unending Life
People often consider life after life.
Maybe because they think there was no life before life
Or maybe they don't care about the life before life.
Yet if there were life before life, it's quite logical
There must be life after life;
If we were here before we were born,
We will be here after we are dead,
But if there was no individuality before,
Why would it exist afterwards?
It seems that this problem is not one of life
Or death, but an issue of ego
Which doesn't accept disappearance
Of individuality in the sea or the disappearance
Of unending life, of all in all.
poem by Dejan Stojanovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Became Those 'Things
You became those 'things'.
Your car, your jewelry...
Watches and diamond rings.
The shoes and suits.
Shirts and ties.
The dinner parties you hosted.
With those hors d'oeuvres you insisted...
I would love if I tried!
You became those 'things'.
With such a credibility!
But when you lost them...
Something I saw died within you.
And the family you knew,
Saw that too.
None of us who witnessed it...
Recognized you at all!
Did you believe when those 'things' left...
You could restore your emptiness,
By pretending to be someone else?
That everyone would accept?
You became those 'things'!
And you expected us to accept nothing less.
Now you suggest we respect that.
But you invested your happiness in things.
And you neglected life!
You became those 'thing's you chose to be.
What makes you believe...
Now those things are gone,
You can be someone that is liked?
Without those things you seem to have no life.
And 'that' you chose to ignore.
Without them you seem such a bore!
You became those 'things'!
What are you now good for?
A useless nothingness?
You had said of me...
And your family.
And those who then had less!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wings
I felt wings being put upon my back
I knew there was no turning back
I had left this material world, and took
the steps up to the sky.
I knew I was dead! I just couldn’t understand
How or why. Why did I leave all that I loved
Friends, family, and my loved ones
To climb the steps up to the sky.
WHY? WHY? WHY?
This question kept pounding in my brain.
What did I do, am I going insane?
If I am dead, what am I doing here?
I feel myself walking on the ground.
Yet! I don’t hear no words, no sounds.
Am I between heaven and hell?
Then what am I doing here.?
Then I heard a voice say:
Sometimes spirits find it hard to leave
For in their hearts they do grieve.
You will learn that things are not what they seem to be
There is a difference between spiritual and reality.
They both walk side by side, and can affect you
No matter what you try.
You was chosen to leave this world
And that’s the reason you have those wings
For you will be into everything.
You will show people love, compassion, hope, and faith
Before it becomes much too late.
You will show people how to care, and how to share
How to give strength when there’s no one there.
How to move on in life, and go thru the struggles and strife.
There are so many things that you must do
That’s the reason that I picked you.
So spread your wings and spread them wide
For you have a long ways to fly.
There is someone waiting for you, and when you
Get there, you’ll know what to do.
So I flew to where he said: this was something I did dread.
The person that he sent me to see, was a relative that I once knew
Cancer cells were eating her away, and by her side her family did pray.
Somehow she saw me when I entered the room
She asked me if it was time- I said it was much too soon.
I told her she had to make peace with everyone she knew
And that would take a day or two.
She smiled and said: I understand!
Will you sit and hold my hand.
I held her hand till it was time to depart
For her new life was about to start.
She saw a band of angels in back of me
And they all began to sing.
HALLELUJAH TO THE NEW BORN KING
Now I felt that I earned my wings
Bringing people home was an exhilarating thing.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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