Mother is more a savior
My son’s sin, I forgive, ignore or hide.
Sins he did to me dissolves in my eyes
At the sight of his growth and welfare.
I punish him not, nor want others to.
I have no grief that I was deserted
By my son on whom I had spun my hope.
I do have grief that who would be there
After my death, to nurse him when he weeps over the wrongs done to me, his mother.
10.0.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Emotional Scavenger
And now in the cold light of day,
Grief casts her shadows long,
and grey
Draining warmth & blinding me
To the glorious hope
Of day;
Grief would steal my soul and hide it
In blackness,
Whispering reminders
Of pain,
And loss,
And death…
Mocking hope's insistence,
Spurning love's comfort;
Grief watches,
Expectant, she waits…
Grief, scavenger of emotions,
Is ever hopeful.
poem by Jinge Norvall
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Hope in Heaven's Day
Grief be mine, I ask you so,
If not for you, I wouldn't know,
How life once was and then be still,
How so precious, that death do steal.
Because that grief, won't go away,
Learn to let it have its way.
The link to love, a precious one,
Is met with grief and still not done.
The days do come, and nights do go,
Grief will stay as time is so.
And so a loved one passes on,
And grief comes in and carries on.
Does grief get better, I will ask,
It's hard to say, while at its task.
There is grief to help us cope,
There is God to give us hope.
Grief will surely go away,
On that glorious heaven's day.
But while its here, there's just one thing,
Pray our Lord, for peace he'll bring.
poem by Arlene Dery
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In my grief
In my grief
I have forgotten I have a friend
I have not remember there is YOU
Who are willing to wipe away my tears.
In my grief
I have hurt you my friend
I run hiding in my own cocoon
And left you alone wandering where I am
In my grief
I ignore you calling my name
I have close my eyes for your need of a friend
And left you alone in your lament
After my grief
I look for where you are
But couldn’t find you anymore
Coz you grew tired waiting for me
poem by Tear Drops
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What old sadness can I let go of by sharing it today
How can we measure the grief we feel and and how we could put up with it. Doesn't the grief of death weight a ton or more. Doesn't it strenth out to a month a year or still longer. Is the grief of failture lighter then then the grief of empyness. Wheather we try to ingore or make light of it our grief like a ton of feathers or a ton of rocks is all the same to us. This much is sure if we lock our grief it will weight more on us. Andlengthen out if we open our hearts with weeping and words others will help carry it away. written and Posted 1/1/10
poem by Susie Sunshine
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For those in mind
Death
is too late for grief.
If we had celebrated their living
knowing that grief would surely come
then grief would have a place;
death
is too late for grief.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Unknown Grief
Unknown Grief
Mark Kelly Wassenaar (AKA Wazzy)
You never expect to know the word grief
Until it comes to you
It comes in, like a thief
Then you take a critical review
Who really knows what grief is
It could be you, or me, or your teddy bear
If only we could see his
Come with me, I’ll give you a dare
All I ask is that you’ll see
What grief does to you and me
Maybe at the end we’ll all agree
That it need not be all for thee
Have you seen death of one or more
Have they been of love or worse
Does it cause a whole body war
Does it put you in a hearse
If all these apply to you
Maybe you know what grief may be
All this time you withdrew
It makes you feel like abductees
If you like, you may join my cause
Get together with your bands
To end all grief within our paws
To clear our enemy from our hands
poem by Mark Wazzy
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Happy Easter 2006!
A poor lamb cries incessantly: it’s tied!
It knows its heading to the slaughter-house!
It can’t escape: they’d raised it for this sake;
It weeps for mercy: but ’tis its last ride!
The Lamb of God- Jesus suffered like-wise!
The sins of mankind gave him Death by Cross;
Redeeming sinners was His Father’s Will;
At Calvary, He paid the precious price.
Christ uttered not a single cry for woes;
His example was silent obedience;
His Father’s errand stood before His eyes;
He pleaded God to forgive all his foes.
If He had wished, he could have changed his fate!
His divine pow’rs could have come to his aid;
His Messianic Mission was supreme;
He trounced the devils, death: and reached God’s gate.
The endless love of God for souls is clear;
Heaven is open now to sinners too
Who ask God’s pardon for their sins: REPENT;
The Savior brought heaven to all so near!
Oh, what a joyful Feast is Easter then!
The righteous die to live eternally!
The Breath of Life that came by Maker’s Word
Desires that all should enter Heaven!
“Wish you all a Happy Easter,2006! ”
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-10-2006
poem by John Celes
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Two Mothers
Israeli and Palestine conflict
Prostrate with grief
Rachel weeps for a dead son
Killed by a suicide bomber.
Prostrate with grief
Sarah weeps for a dead son -the suicide bomber
Who believed blood would set his people free.
Blood begets blood
Reprisal follows reprisal.
And there is no honour in death
Only tears of mothers for dead children.
poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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Sympathies dry
Poverty is not mother of grief.
The mother is disparity.
Prosperity cannot drive out grief.
Prosperity eliminates poverty.
With poverty elopes sympathy.
Suicides grow not from poverty
But from want of sympathy.
10.09.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Words for Sergeant Dakota Meyer, USMC – CMH
Someday when your construction job has helped you heal
I hope through google and the further mystery of the internet
These words will find you
The President did not speak falsely
In your dark valley you are far from alone
Your comrades - living and dead – are not alone
Indeed a nation grieves with you
Your truth is proofed
Your honor is secure
You are not alone
You are not alone
The medal is our grief
It is not your grief
Keep your grief – keep your grief
It will heal you
It will heal you
Keep your grief
The Medal is a souvenir from a place
Where there are no shops
poem by Bill Grace
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The use of intellects.
I don’t believe in the God
Except when I am in threat.
I don’t believe in the Soul
Except when I fall in love.
I don’t believe in the Spirit
Except when I feed mother’s.
I don’t believe in the Ghost
Except where my aunt hanged.
I don’t believe in Karma
Except when I curse someone..
I don’t believe in the Fate
Except when the grief engulfs.
Should I value the intellects
That fail at instincts’ command?
07.05.2006.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Not With These Eyes
Let me not see your grief!
O, let not any see
That grief,
Nor how your heart still rocks
Like a temple with long earthquake shocks.
Let me not see
Your grief.
These eyes have seen such wrong,
Yet remained cold:
Ills grown strong,
Corruption's many-headed worm
Destroying feet that moved so firm--
Shall these eyes see
Your grief?
And that black worm has crawled
Into the brain
Where thought had walked
Nobly, and love and honour moved as one,
And brave things bravely were begun....
Now, can thought see
Unabashed your grief?
Into that brain your grief
Has run like cleansing fire:
Your grief
Through these unfaithful eyes has leapt
And touched honour where it lightly slept.
Now when I see
In memory your grief
There is no thought that's not
Yours, yours,
No love that sleeps,
No spiritual door that opens not
In the green quiet village of thought
Shining with light,
And silent to your silence.
poem by John Freeman
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Alone in grief, alone in thought, alone
[The Pieta’]
alone in grief, alone in thought, alone
the mother stood, the mother wept,
small, silent, tearless tears at the brim
that never came:
The Pieta’
Around the gloom, around the dark, and hopelessness
She held her son a piece of flesh
Alone in grief, alone in thought she stood
The Pieta’
She saw him hit, she saw him fall, his eyes
She closed herself; hers the last kiss
Hers the last touch, farewell:
Alone in grief, alone in thought she stood
Pieta’
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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In Evil Long I Took Delight
In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopped my wild career.
I saw One hanging on a tree,
In agony and blood,
Who fixed His languid eyes on me,
As near His cross I stood.
Sure, never to my latest breath,
Can I forget that look;
It seemed to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke.
My conscience felt and owned the guilt,
And plunged me in despair,
I saw my sins His blood had spilt,
And helped to nail Him there.
A second look He gave, which said,
“I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou mayst live.”
Thus, while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.
With pleasing grief and mournful joy,
My spirit now is fill'd,
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by Him I kill'd.
poem by John Newton
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Dark Trinity
Said I to Pain: "You would not dare
Do ill to me."
Said Pain: "Poor fool! Why should I care
Whom you may be?
To clown and king alike I bring
My meed of bane;
Why should you shirk my chastening?"
Said Pain.
Said I to Grief: "No tears have I,
Go on your way."
Said Grief: "Why should I pass you by,
While others pay?
All men must know the way of woe,
From saint to thief,
And tears were meant to overflow,"
Said Grief.
Said I to Death: "From ail and fret
Grant me relief."
Said Death: "I know you are beset
By Pain and Grief.
But my good will you must await
Since human breath
To suffering is consecrate,"
Said Death.
Said I to God: "Pale Sister Grief,
Bleak Brother Pain,
Bedevil me beyond belief,
And Death's unfain . . ."
Said God: "Curse not that blessed Three,
Poor human clod!
Have faith! Believe the One with Me,"
Said God.
poem by Robert William Service
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Village Of Hopes And Dreams
As we all come upon a death of a certain loved one
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all lose the championship,
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all fail a test, of which we tried so hard on,
We grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all walk in the rain the same, so sad
The mood of the storm changes us
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all cry the same with blood-shot eyes, hoping no one sees us,
We all grief in the same way with our heads down.
As we all pray to God that this pain will stop,
We never think what we’ve down for him.
As I have lost something so great,
I lift my head to the sky
Pray to God that he will bless me with the opportunity
Of doing better next time.
As I learned from my elders the way you walk can tell a lot about yourself.
So I walk with my head up high, knowing God has sent his angels
To guide me in my path.
And if I did grief in the same way as others, with my head down.
I know that the Devil will be staring me down.
And as I walk home on this rainy day,
I pray that sunshine is on its way!
As I’ve cried in this stall,
I got on my knees and prayed to God to let these tears stop
With hopes and dreams I get from him,
Smiling each day because I know I am strong.
poem by Rachel Martin
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He Was Acquainted With Grief
I cannot tell the sorrows that I feel
By the night's darkness, by the prison's gloom;
There is no sight that can the death reveal
The spirit suffers in a living tomb;
There is no sound of grief that mourners raise,
No moaning of the wind, or dirge-like sea,
Nor hymns, though prophet tones inspire the lays,
That can the spirit's grief awake in thee.
Thou too must suffer as it suffers here
The death in Christ to know the Father's love;
Then in the strains that angels love to hear
Thou too shalt hear the Spirit's song above,
And learn in grief what these can never tell,
A note too deep for earthly voice to swell.
poem by Jones Very
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Grief Is Never Having To Say I Grieve
Your grief has been too heavy
I don’t know how much grief buries you down
Please let me weep with you
Please let me weep with you
Like the others, I adore you for keeping up with life
I could imagine how you cry in your thoughts
How like blade, grief cuts your heart, your throat,
the top of your skull - slowly
Like wars in history, there are no exits
and there are no choices
If you were there, you had to face those rattling guns
Plead, please plead
Remember “Our Lady of Sorrows'
Mary carried part of the grief Jesus has
been carrying to save us, during the crucifixion
Mary had no one with her
She was helpless, yet in those moments
God’s strength kept her unmovable and brave
How long does grief stay?
People are not things
How long does grief stay?
If you lost something, you can always build it again
How long does grief stay?
If you lost someone, and someone, and someone
again, in any way – they are part of you
For as long as you live, grief changes into
remembering happy days with each other
Grief becomes faithfulness
Grief changes unto faith
Those drops of blood, while Jesus prayed in the garden
Is grief
Grief is never having to say “I grieve, ”
but “I love, ”
This is how long grief stays.
poem by Rosalinda Flores Martinez
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Crying
he says he likes to cry when
everyone is asleep when no one hears his sound
of grief anymore
he wants to keep this grief alone
thinking that no one understands anyway
no one wants a sorrow that will be shared
or a grief to be feasted upon
sometimes he says he cries when he is bathing
under a cold shower to cool his eyes
to appease his heart and when he steps out
of the bathroom
when someone notices how red his eyes are
he tells them that his shampoo has caused it all
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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