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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Immersion! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
The day the thoughts dashed the ground,
Rowing ambitions produced no sound.
Where emotions paralysed
Only tears but had dried.
Everything had come to an end,
The tragedy could not be mend.
Lost! lost! lost!
Everything is lost!
Nothing more left,
With my unfortunate pathetic fate.
I have lost my child,
In the mouth of the ancient wild
I have lost my parents
The sky above forlorn and the ground snatched
I have lost my life's partner
Who loved, understood and compromised and was my supporter.
Seeping wounds of darkness dawned at the rise of the day,
Where in agony, anguish, misery and melancholy they lay.
Never will they come back.
From the path they had come, they have gone back.
None can wipe their everlasting tears
None can bring them solace from tears.
poem by Green Peace
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Love Is So Hard, Life Is So Simple
Love is so hard
For whom?
For the ones that lost a loved one
By a murder
And for the criminal
Life is easy
Because all he does is seat in jail
While we pay to keep him in jail
But to be honest it is better to have a murder in jail
Than in the streets
Does the murder have any simpathy for the person he killed?
No
poem by Aldo Kraas
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True Dancing Souls
Our souls want to dance forever
not now. for you must see
Fate brought us together
too soon, he did
Finish your journey with her
and waiting I’ll be
For fate brought us together
too soon, he did
On future days we’ll be forever
our lives as one.
For fate brought us together
too soon, he did
Our lips touch, our souls dance
bounded we’ll be soon
For now wait we must because
Fate brought us together
too soon, he did
Soul mates forever but not for now
we wait, for time will come.
For fate brought us together
too soon, he did
Friends for now but forever we’ll be
wrapped by the music.
For fate brought us together
too soon, he did
For eternity or forever I’ll wait
one day we’ll be
Together happily without her
For fate brought us together
too soon you see
Fate brought us together
too late he did
For years ago we met
yet now we see our love
Fate brought us together
too late he did.
Not speaking one word,
we saved our lives
Fate brought us together
too late he did
We share now our memories
As our souls join
together they dance eternally
Our love now stays strong
our patience grows weak
No worries my love for
Fate brought us together
too soon but not too late
poem by Elicia Santoro
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The Day Old Shep Died
it's been thirty years,
that he's been gone,
the day he died, brought tears,
all day, i played his song.
for nine long years,
i loved him and he loved me,
the day he died, broght tears,
toward the end, he could barely see.
when he died, i was seventeen years,
my child hood died that day,
the day he died, brought tears,
during his youth, we were always at play.
him and i was, so close in years,
when i got shep he was five and i eight,
the day he died brought tears,
he always ate his meals, off our plate.
he died at eighty-four in human years,
he lived to a ripe old age,
the day he died brought tears,
for this poem, he set the stage.
i can't believe, its been so many years,
i think about him, all the time,
the day he died, brought tears,
but old shep, was all mind.
of all these many years,
no dog has taken the place of old shep,
the day he died, brought tears,
i'll always remember, that dog with pep
in memory of old shep 1946-1960 written june 21,1990
Shattered Mirror
Shattered Mirror
Broken face
So lost now
I have no place
Scared of life
Nowhere to turn
So far to go
A life to learn
Shattered Mirror
Tattered dreams
All alone
Too hard it seems
Feel so empty
Lost inside
Too much to bear
I wish I'd died
Shattered Mirror
Murdered love
Dark thought come
And rise above
Tears of love
Heart of pain
Mess of thoughts
Maybe insane
Shattered Mirror
Loss of life
Hopes of death
Constant strife
Now let go
Lonely tear
Empty now
Wish you were here....
poem by Kim Hooten
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Five Short Minutes
Written by - Jim Croce
Well, she was standing by my dressing room after the show
Asking for my autograph and asked if she could go
Back to my motel room. But the rest is just a tragic tale
Because five short minutes of lovin'
Done brought me twenty long years in jail
Well, like a fool in a hurry I took her to my room
She casted me in plaster while I sang her a tune
Then I said, "Ooh, ooee!" Sure was a tragic tale
Because five short minutes of lovin'
Done brought me twenty long years in jail
Well, then a judge and a jury sat me in a room
They say that robbin' the cradle is worse than robbin' the tomb
Then I said "Ooh, ooee!" Sure was a tragic tale
(Wasn't worth it, wasn't worth it!)
Because five short minutes of lovin'
Done brought me twenty long years in jail
And when I get out of this prison gonna be forty-five
I'll know I used to like to do it but I won't remember why
(Wasn't worth it, wasn't worth it!)
I'll say "Ooh, ooee! Sure was a tragic tale
Because five short minutes of lovin'
Done brought me twenty long years in jail"
Because five short minutes of lovin'
Done brought me twenty long years in jail
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Generation Lost
In life’s profusion
I stagger down lonely streets
looking for what I lost
when my life made its retreat.
Fame’s walls are hollow
empty footsteps echo there
of those who tried
and missed out on life’s fanfare.
Like me, they walk in desolation
no umbrella to cover their soul
from the dark clouds of misery
that empties no pity on anyone
whom it rains upon.
Alleyways of lonely drinkers
and lost dreams
whose lives they no longer own.
Lost souls in life’s misery
we see them everywhere
products of a discarded generation
for whom no one cares.
They huddle in cardboard towers
that they call home.
This generation lost
from life’s society.
22 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Broken Dreams
I don’t see a long road ahead of me
And my coffee cup, instead of been half full
It’s always half empty
I got no home
I’m on the streets
An in the cold lonely morning
I’m awaken by somebodys cries an screams
All I’ve got left is my broken dreams
My past's erased from my memory
Anyone I knew before
Never cared enough to contact me
I’ve lost my friends
I’ve lost my family
My life’s falling apart
It’s coming loose at the seems
All I’ve got left is my broken dreams
The dreams I used to dream
When I was a kid
Never left my heart
But I never did them, I never lived
So now I cry into my glass
To try an make it full
I’m crying lost rivers an lost streams
All I’ve got left is my broken dreams
poem by Lucy Vernezze
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I Lost My Crown
The day I lost my mind
Was the day you left for good
All the love that was left behind
Wouldn’t bring you back if it could
I lost my reign
I lost my crown
All I have left is a kingdom of pain
Where I lost more than I found
I can’t seem to understand
Why you loved me less
It wasn’t part of the plan
To make my heart a royal mess
I lost my reign
I lost my crown
All my dreams are shattered
All my treasures don’t shine anymore
I can’t believe I never mattered
All I can hear is the slamming of the door
I lost my reign
I lost my crown
Don’t need any riches where I’m bound
Tears will fill my throne till I drown
poem by Alfred Ramos
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Sonnet: Home, Sweet Home!
A model-home has vanished in a trice!
Its members were united for long years;
The family had been kept free of vice;
The children studied without any fears.
The family looks shattered ’yond repair;
Each sibling lives a selfish life unknown;
A phone-message amidst them is so rare!
The bond of love that parents gave is gone.
An exemplary family seems lost;
The parental influences were great;
The bond of harmony is now a ghost;
‘’Tis all our making and not any fate!
When parents live, a home is truly home;
With parents dead, inmates share hatred-worm!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-8-2006
poem by John Celes
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Since I’ve Been In Jail
Since I've been in jail
the world has turned around the sun ten times
And if you ask the earth, it will say:
'It's not worth mentioning,
a microscopic time.'
And if you ask me, I will say:
'It's ten years of my life.'
I had a pencil
the year I came to jail.
It wore out in a week from writing.
And if you ask the pencil, it will say:
'A whole life.'
And if you ask me, I will say:
'It's nothing, a mere week.'
Osman who was jailed for murder
completed a seven-year stretch and left
since I've been in jail.
He wandered around outside for a while,
and then got jailed again for smuggling.
He served a six-month term and left again,
and yesterday a letter came saying he's married
and a child will be born in the spring.
Now they're ten years old
the children who fell from their mothers' womb
that year I came to jail,
And the colts of that year who had long thin shaky legs
have long since become docile broad-rumped mares.
But the olive shoots are still shoots
and they're still children.
New squares have opened up in my distant city
since I've been in jail.
And our family
is living in a house I've never seen
on a street I don't know.
The bread was pure white, like cotton,
the year I came to jail.
Later it was rationed out,
And we here on the inside beat one another
for a piece of black crust the size of a fist.
Now it's free again,
But brown and tasteless.
The year I came to jail
The Second One had just begun.
The ovens in Dachau Camp were not yet lit,
The atom bomb was not yet hurled upon Hiroshima.
Time flowed like the blood of a child with his throat cut.
Later that chapter was officially closed,
Now American dollars are talking about a Third.
But in spite of everything, the days have brightened
since I've been in jail,
And about half of them
'put their heavy hands on the pavement
and on the edge of darkness
straightened up.'
Since I've been in jail
the world has turned around the sun ten times.
And again I repeat with the same passion
what I wrote for them
the year I came to jail:
'They
whose number is as great
as ants on the earth
fish in the water
birds in the sky
are fearful and brave
ignorant and learned
and they are children,
And they
who destroy and create
it is only their adventure in these songs.'
And for the rest,
for example, my lying here for ten years,
it's nothing...
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Broken children
I've come across many neglected children
They carry a pain
Thats left a mark
An uncured wound
A broken heart
A broken home
Due to parents disappearing
Or out there searching
Always there children they are hurting
Why! ....
Because of greed
Because of need
Because of temptation
Or because of drugs!
These children never did ask to be born
And find there status torn
Ripped apart and shredded!
How selfish can those parents be
All for want and for themselves to repair
The only place they have come to tear
Are the roots of those children
Who live there lives searching for there souls
Life becomes a riddle
When only themselves they muddle
Walking down those empty streets
Meeting up with others who swollowed the same
Now they've decided to create a new game
Let it be violence!
And push those parents into shame
Yet it is always
Those poor children who live with blame!
If this is freedom of choice!
Then let those poor children
Make a voice!
poem by Suzan Gumush
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For More Than Fifteen Years
For more than fifteen years he intensely hated life.
For more than fifteen years he intensely hated his parents.
He intensely hated his parents for giving him abuse hell life.
He intensely hated his parents for subjecting him to abuse hell life.
A hell life that no mortal child or man should suffer through live.
A hell life that he a mortal soul could but suffer through die live.
So much of the best of thee could not survive that broken bitter life.
Important parts of thee did not could not survive that broken bitter life.
Only love can restore renew those lost parts of thee.
Only love can restore renew that lost heart of thee.
So many of us are but puzzle pieces of men women we should be.
That is parents crime across generations unabated abuse misuse.
The circle of repetitive violence abuse can be is broken in thee.
You will set all your children and all their offspring free.
You will free generations unborn yet to be.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When It Hurts Enough To Cry
When it hurts enough to cry,
Like when your parents give you up, and you don't know why.
Parents just like my own,
Didn't want anything to do with me, till I was grown.
Why do some parents give up their kids,
Do they ever regret later that they did?
My parents weren't there through the teen years,
Or seeing me graduate which brought me tears.
I hardly heard I love you son,
When growing up, I can't remember having any fun.
Something my dad said has always stuck in my head,
When I was five he said he wished I was dead.
Doesn't he know my heart was torn?
I never did ask to be born.
Parents are suppose to love their kids,
And it will show later what a good job they did.
They say you can't choose your mom or dad,
Cause if I could I wouldn't be so sad.
But I always remember what Jesus said,
''Always love your mom and dad.''
poem by Roger Dodd
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Sonnet: The World Ahead
Our children grow up faster, every day;
Years roll away unnoticed, stealthily;
Adults will soon be old; some gone away;
ome live with grief; some souls leave happily.
Our children will be parents too like us;
And rule the destiny of planet Earth;
We hope they live better than us, not worse;
And make their lives on earth really worth.
The modern world looks great in its own way;
But evil minds and spirits turn life sad;
Misery haunts the living ones each day;
Our peace of mind seems lost; the world looks mad.
Alas! All that we can do is to pray
To God, Almighty, Lord, ”show us the way'.
poem by John Celes
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Lost in everything
Lost in thought
lost in pain
lost in fear
that you can never retain!
Lost in trouble
lost in grief
lost in heartbreak
that you can never relief!
Lost in sorrow
lost in death
lost in misery
That you can never refresh!
Lost in life
lost in words
lost in everything
That you can never return!
Lost in chaos
lost in peace
lost in burdens
that you can never release!
Because these are the things
we think and feel
through the good and the bad
It's a forever done deal!
poem by Katarina Bowman
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Short Shrift
‘I’ve failed! ’ How many times have sons
And fathers’ fathers echoed me?
‘I’ve failed! My life was spent in dreams, ’
We said, ‘in shallow misery.
In dreams and steel and soot and grime,
In screams, and what would seem some crime
Of trying to live beyond our need...
Our lives were spent in some black creed! ’
‘Too short, too short, the days we spent
In trying to right the days before,
Too long, too long, the years we struggled
Knowing not what struggled for.
What goal, what aim, what discontent,
What loves we lost, what life we spent
In wondering what such life could be?
Short shrift for you - harsh words for me! ’
‘I’ve failed, my sons, I’ve failed you all
And so my failure tortures me,
As in that innocence divine
Your love loves all the failed in me.
If I could strip this flesh, or tear
These eyes that cried hot fire for you
To save you from the same despair
My father’s father brought me to...’
20 July 1976
poem by David Lewis Paget
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I will always be the way I was a couple years ago before anything happened. And that's to my parents' credit, my amazing parents who have been around me my whole life and raised me right. I'm very happy with what has happened so far.
quote by Kaley Cuoco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
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