En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Yet To Recover

I have yet to recover from shock
I had cried enough to run out of stock
He was just born to be here for few days
Only to become memory and taken away

Lovely child looked like rose flower
No sign of any weakness noticed by her
He was our timely for future
But alas! He was to remain with us no more

Season after season
Years by years
May remind of his memory
To feel only sorry

The soul remained for while
In his own unique style
Had so much to walk in miles
But cut short life meanwhile

Maybe felt so much at heart
Cruel tale of death as an art
Its universal acceptance
Gone for ever at once

Death is very much there as reality
only one fear for humanity
Just compel them to bow to almighty
For asking one thing and that too mercy

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Season Of Spring

THE SEASON OF SPRING

the season of spring
weather seems to sing
lovely lovely days
are coming our ways

the season of spring
blooming blossoming
of nature of all kind
let roots unbind

the season of spring
birds unfold their wings
diving high into sky
wish one could fly

the season of spring
careful hearts love sting
reaching out towards others
some persons might bother

the season of spring
nice sound bells ring
new wave new style
faces have on a smile

the season of spring
an new awakening
busy humanity on earth
as if it’s a new birth

listen listen to my words
the season of spring is near
now a look into your lovely eyes
and one can see spring is already here

poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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Sonnet- When a Child

The saddest thing in life I know is when,
I can’t prevent the death of a young child;
All my years of learning seem a waste, then;
My heart with anger fills; my mind grows wild.

I shudder in myself and almost cry;
Was there a freak chance of saving life, still?
I ask myself, my God, the question 'Why;
Death cruel stole the child's soul while still ill!

’Tis alright when an old man diseased dies;
The bud had flowered; fruit was yet unripe;
The child had not a speck or stain of vice;
Who can the mother's lament ever wipe?
Alas! None can query the act of God;
He is the Wisest One; We are but clod!

poem by John Celes
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Sonnet- When a Child Dies!

The saddest thing in life I know is when,
I can’t prevent the death of a young child;
My years of learning all seem awaste, then;
My heart with anger fills; my mind grows wild.

I shudder within myself, almost cry;
Was there a freak chance of saving life still?
I ask myself, my God, the question- 'Why
Death cruel stole the child's soul while still ill? ’

’Tis alright when an old man, diseased dies;
The bud had flowered; fruit was yet unripe;
The child had not a speck or stain of vice;
Who can the mother's lament ever wipe?
Alas! None can query the acts of God;
He is the Wisest One; we are but clod!

poem by John Celes
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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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Bigger Than Elvis

Come, lets talk just you & me
For once just let me be.
The little boy you used to know.
Relive that summers bliss.
Cause they came no more like this.
Those were the days,
The days when love was still in style.
All I ever dreamed Id be
Is what you are to me.
Bigger than elvis.
And for all the missing years,
A memory reappears.
Bigger than elvis.
I saw you on tv.
The king, you were to me.
Could you feel me watching you?
At times my heart got mad,
Only heros are allowed
To run free, that they could come back inside of me.
All I ever dreamed Id be,
Is what you are to me.
Bigger than elvis.
And for all the missing years,
A memory reappears.
Bigger than elvis.
We know the sadness of goodbyes
Must be the one thats bringing tears to your childs eyes.
Oh, from now on Ill walk with you
Making music like you do.
Would you believe I always knew?
You were never hard to take
In some mysterious way
Bigger than elvis
And for all the missing years
Your memory reappears
Bigger than elvis.
Now Ive found the missing years,
Forgotten all my tears.
Ive found the missing years.

song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Days of Yesteryear

We often live surveying the past
as a summer season comes around,
and selecting the days of living freely
in our memory will be found.

We scrutinize the events of other Summers
experiencing great pleasure and delight
that once we knew when we were just
youngsters when life seemed to be all right.

Through the fading days of yesteryear
we filled our life with many dreams.
From childhood days to adulthood days
it was just a natural step it seems.

We miss the thrills that once was ours
the days we felt were always free.
We live it over each Summer time
and always remains a pleasant memory.

Too swiftly is the flight of time,
Though plentiful be the exuberant ways
that lead us down memory lane
to the scenes of other Summer days.

Though another Summer season shall end,
One wish for all of you we hold
May Summer always bring an abundance
of joy and memories a hundred fold.

poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Hard to forget

It is hard to forget
Equally painful for memory to let
All come and invade like flash light
Stay for a while and go immediately out of sight

Many more years may pass
They may excel in their field and show class
But alas! I am lost in mass
The place meant for me and was

I shall be no more
But I do keep them in mind adore
They were friends and needed therefore
I shall hold them ever and for ever

We might have fought and clashed
Disregarded thoughts and smashed
Soon to come around and sort out the difference
Shown the respect and drawn the correct inference

I shall soon be gone
The destiny to be reached and flown
Yet you all may remain in memory
What more can I feel and regret except sorry

You were available at every opportunity
That chance was afforded by an almighty
I could excel and show the best quality
That was seen by me in your ability

I shall remain indebted and grateful
That you have rest of days as very much successful
Life is full of enterprises and adventures
We are the master of our own future

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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DEATH: our final destination.......

every one thinks it is our end
but no one knows whats god's trend

death is unpredictable
neither it is changeable

death just need a reason
it doesn't consider any season

death doesn't see the gender
also the age younger or elder

death wants every person to surrender
whether it is sooner or later

some name it heart attack, diseased, murder or suicide
just to console themselves or feel satisfied

we shouldn't feel horrified or fear
because worldly life is condensed as there is much more here after

so live like a flower and blossom till you are alive
as no one knows when death can deprive.....

poem by Fahmina Arjumand Misha
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Difficult to forget

It is difficult to forget near ones
They won’t be missed by some one
But by persons of close vicinity
And all members of the family

We may go on missing them forever
One day they may fade away however
They may still come and invade the memory
You may think and add to tension and worry

Any new place of similar nature may force you to think
You will slip into deep memory and try to sink
It will give you momentary relief and some kind of joy
Even though it is sad to miss any one and enjoy

We are sentimental and everything has some attachment
We may try to get near it and make happy comments
When that thing becomes thing of past
Some memory may not be forgotten and long last

More you cry and miss
He will get shock and a pulse
Where ever he is, he will have pain
As he will be in heavenly abode to remain

Insted do a thing which was so dear
He always tried for to be near
He will be with you for the years
And remind you he is with you and in your tears

These are unforgettable painful moments
There are no words left for comments
Yet we go on remembering them as and when feel free
We may have all comforts as if sitting under the shed of tree

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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No Other

Go and hug her
Your mother, your life giver
A soul divine.
Leave not your mother
A woman so kind..............Keya Mukerjee

Mother and no other
I wish again to see her
In kindest form ever known
She is mother of my own

I have wept
With hidden face and kept
Her memory and face
Those always made me cry and chased

It is repeat divine performance
A child gets unique chance
To be born to a mother
Rejoice for a while and not to bother

She is Mother Nature
Every season presents for sure
New leaves and flowers
For old trees with rainy showers

I miss each moment of life
As she has witnessed an edge of knife
To upkeep child away from all misfortune
Sing with melody to quiet with fine tune

Those words baffle me sometimes
Where will she be gone in old times?
I literally miss with wet eyes
When a memory flood and suddenly flies

I not only salute her selfless existence
But bow head in recognition at once
How come she cares so much for lovely child?
When fate is known to witness later on to be blind

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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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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Now Your Memory

Coloured leaves dance about
Season changed and so did you
We walked along I can't forget
I think of things we use to do
Now Your Memory
Plans we made for tomorrow
The first flower you gave to me
Dreams we shared together
Your kiss that felt so gently
Now Your Memory
I look back and soak it all in
It makes me smile and cry
This was the it use to be then
And even though I do realise
Now Your Memory

poem by Suelynn Walters
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Take her over

I nearly collapsed with tears
I was unable to withstand and bear
How could death take her over?
When she needed comfort and cover

I see her beautiful eyes with message
It may be years before than of her age
The picture reveals of deep anguish
As if pond is dried of fishes

She is no more day in this world
Her memory pushes me in cold
How much she had dreamed for future
I won’t be able to put it for sure

I am at the top of the ladder
I serve the poor as doctor
I read pain in your eyes
There are many questions unanswered. Why?

Years have been passed yet you are same
I see reflection of quality in your name
I feel proud of being your kid
You were kind enough to provide me all the leads

Where you are mom? But here in my dream
I always used to sleep in your arm
Your were like tree and provided shade
I miss you so much even after many years of wedding

I loved the way you treated
No anger but always greeted
Provided whatever you could do
How lovely and innocent you were to be true

Never go off from my memory
I feel so deprived and sorry
I look at yours eyes and miss
That lovely and sweet forehead kiss

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I Was a Child

I was a child - only 13
I was looking to be loved
What I found was the devil
I wasn’t to know love shouldn’t
Hurt with so much intense pain
I wasn’t to know the difference
Between passion and possession

He taught me every lesson I needed
He gave me validation of my worth
Unworthy he assured me with certainty
He told me I am now his to keep
He stole years of what was my life

His idea of play included pain
I felt his games over and over
Until I learned to no longer feel
He captured my soul and tormented it
Until he destroyed what remained

Left with no strength to walk away
Fear of death was his ultimate weapon
He took the power of my mind
He gave me a choice to escape
For this he would take something
Someone I loved - the life of my brother
My decision quite simply I made – I stayed.

What became of the years to follow?
I was a child – I was broken, beaten, kicked,
I was a child – I was tormented, raped, violated
I was a child – I was frightened, and wished to die
I was a child – I wanted to be that child again.

(April 22nd 2007)

poem by Charmaine Simpson
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Haunted October

Where comes the darkness
that would swallow October and haunt the moon?

The month that is touched by Lucifer's kiss.
The shadow that would roll across September

darkens as the month grows old and the season late.
All the fallen things of blackness

dance out in celebration, like a child on Christmas morn.
October was the season born on Abel's dying scream!

When a grain offering wasn't enough it cried
'GIVE ME BLOOD! '

And the angel of light basked in the glow from that...
Bewitched moons illumination.

Alas a season a season born of murder.
Death's frosted breath rattles the very leaves from the trees

and sleeps the whole earth in an icy grave, with just one touch,
and Satan's cloven hoof marks pock

the frosted Earth till Heaven's son
steps from the grave and Satan takes his place.

poem by Trucker Jeff
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Beyond The Sunset

Should you go first and i remain, to walk the road alone
Ill live in memory's garden dear, with happy days we've known
In spring i'll wait for roses red, when faith the lilacs bloom
And in early fall when brown leaves fall,
I'll catch a glimpse of you
Should you go first and i remain, for battles to be fought
Each thing you've touched along the way, will be a hallowed spot
I'll hear your voice ill see your smile
Though blindly i may grope
The memory of your helping hand, will buoy me on with hope
(c)beyond the sunset oh blissful (g)morning
When with our saviour, heaven is be(c)gun
Earths toiling ended, oh glorious (f)dawning
Beyond the (c)sunset (g)when day is (c)done
Should you go first and i remain, to finish with the scroll
No lessening shadows shall ever creep in
To make this life seem droll
We've known so much of happiness, we've had our cup of joy
And memory is one gift of god, that death cannot destroy
I want to know each step you take, that i may walk the same
For someday down that lonely road, you'll hear me call your name
Should you go first and i remain, one thing ill have you do
Walk slowly down that long long path, for soon ill follow you
(c)in that fair homeland we'll know no (f)parting
Beyond the (c)sunset (g)for ever (c)more

song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Cried

I need you
Simple words
But words which had never been heard
By the soul
Stoned to death
But still living
And so he froze where he stood
And he looked to the ground
And he cried
He cried
Ride our minds
If you must
But theres always a line you dont cross
Time is short
Dont be cruel
Oh you dont know the power
In what youre saying
Oh ...
And so he froze where he stood
And he looked to the ground
And he cried
He cried
People where
I come from
They survive without feelings or blood
I never could
Was stoned to death
But Im still living
So he froze where he stood
And he looked to the ground
And he cried
He cried
So he froze
And he looked, and he looked
To the ground
And he cried
He cried

song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember The Fallen

Bravery.....
They held in the grasp of death's clutches.
All they did ask for...
A memory of the fallen

Be it on a tundra, braving the winds of war,
Be it on the home front, fear for their loved, clinging tight
All they did wish
A memory of the fallen

Fighting for the memories, of their worlds untouched
Disaster and fright mirrored on innocent faces
All they whisper...
A memory of the fallen

As the years flow by
The rivers of tears, years dry
All they sing, softly,
A memory of the fallen

REMEMBER, the pleas of rememberance, years past
As they fall upon deaf ears
Yet their reminder must live on, as they may not
REMEMBER the fallen, as they plead no more

poem by Joelle Ramee
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The garden

I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene
As it was unusual for me to have seen
The death of son who was born some hours back
Everybody in home were stunned and in shock

The garden comes to life when season comes up with flowers
It was evident from the fact that earth had enough of rain showers
My garden too was blessed with arrival of beautiful baby
We all had prayed for it so song and became so much happy

The happiness was short lived as child breathed little
We all tried hard but he breathed for a while and failed to settle
This was totally unexpected and sent us in shock waves
He brought the hopes for short while and caved in

I was given no room to think about the sad departure
The child was our great hope for the future
Even though I had daughter and son in family
The child was welcome and we missed him sadly

If all the flowers in garden boom freely and survive
No one may have faith in god and believe
Some flowers fade early and some stay for longer
It is philosophy of life that we all are stage actor

I consoled self and left it to the best counsel
Even though it was difficult to come out and feel well
I gave final look at the dead son and dropped few tears
The grief was proving difficult and taking me over

I know it is very difficult to bear and act
It is not in our control also to deny the facts
Life is temporary stage and one will have to leave
There is no other option and we got to believe

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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What The Future Holds For Us

What the future holds for us we are not to know
But our past it goes with us to where-ever we go
Your best years in life to the forever gone
But your past in your memory it is living on
Many friends of your past you may never more see
But they do remain young in your memory
And for as long as the gift of memory you retain
Mental pictures of them with you will remain
But the present is what matter as some are known to say
And only in memory we have yesterday
And tomorrow at dawn the songbirds will sing
But who knows what tomorrow for us will bring
But we will live till we die like the sheep or the cow
And we only can live in the here and the now.

poem by Francis Duggan
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