Apothegm 7th
Rose is almost the pronoun of death,
When one is grief-stricken..
poem by Jiang Haizhou
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Grief-Stricken Eyes
To many
My tears are nothing more
Than a stain
An anoyance
To their daily lives
It makes no difference
How hard I weep
No one is willing
To help a grief-stricken face
I walk in a cloud of darkness
Shrouded by a shadow
Of death
Each step I take
Takes me one step closer
To the edge
The brim
Which will allow me
To face my death
To honour the pledge
That no one cares
So why should I
Be willing
To take each day
To walk every path
Knowing that no one
Has me in their thoughts
To survive yet not live
knowing no one sees inside
Through this facade
They all prefer the mask
No one wants the grief-stricken girl
No one cares about the grief-stricken face
They'd all rather forget
My existance
And carry on
While i blindly
Wallow in sorrow
poem by Blessing Msiza
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~A Pronoun~
Happiness is the name of a surrogate mother
Feelings are me in a pronoun
Awards and prejudices change from one wall to another
Hand to hand it is always the same
Rememberance gives it a name but
sweet and sweeter it gets over years like cotton candys
Still at large a pronoun has to blame
Craving, replaying, longing and dreaming
And then the obvious nature in process
they graduate in love, master girls, doctor in simple romantics
Home boys come brave as airmen and sailors
Until bombs droppes from air raids and torpedos speeded underwater
add fuel to the fire dressing the beautiful noun into dropp dead gorgeous pronoun
When they fall perhaps they realise it was not at all necessary
To fly high for nothing near Nizhny Novgorod
Only to be ephemeral or not even a pro of pronoun
A Rose To Remember....
i am reading about the death of a rose
i am reflecting about
death of freedom
it is all about a rose, a wilting rose, a brown rose,
a dry rose
each petal falling softly on the ground
a dry ground full of sand and pebbles
all footprints covered
abandoned, i am talking
about the death of a rose, the death of the freedom of the rose
the death of freedom, the rose of death, the freedom of death,
is it you now that i talk about? that i must remember?
have i met you before when i was but a thorn, a worm, a leaf?
was i the sand
a pebble, the wind? will you be a rose forever?
is there death in you?
i feel the wind, i smell the rose,
there is no death....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Grief Of My Red Rose
Grief is always hiding behind me
The horrible, terrible thing
It strikes when I am least looking
And lately, it's taking everything
My love is gone, withered and died
A red rose so fair
I have nothing to hide
My red rose just didn't care
When I was least expecting it
Grief of that love came lurking near
What if my rose just never fit?
I now have a morbid fear
What if it never belongs to anyone else?
What if it's not meant to give away?
What if I have to keep it to myself
For the rest of my days?
I will lose it for sure
So I won't let that happen
Grief can't take me by surprise
And i cannot wait until when
My red rose will bloom once more
It's petals will be full, soon
And I will be more cautious than before
Although true love comes once in a blue moon.
poem by Eden St. Andrews
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Just One Rose...
that's a homework i need you to tell me if i should hand it to the teacher or not...(:
just one rose, a pretty rose...
just one rose for me with no coze...
just one rose pure and true...
just one rose for me is all i can do...
just one rose somewhere out there...
just one rose for me to care...
just one rose when dark days prevail...
just one rose when people only use petrail...
just one rose and all the time...
just one rosefor me is a crime...
poem by rose of death XxX
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The Lord's Prayer On A Coin
Upon this quarter-eagle's leveled face,
The Lord's Prayer, legibly inscribed, I trace.
'Our Father which'-the pronoun there is funny,
And shows the scribe to have addressed the money
'Which art in Heaven'-an error this, no doubt:
The preposition should be stricken out.
Needless to quote; I only have designed
To praise the frankness of the pious mind
Which thought it natural and right to join,
With rare significancy, prayer and coin.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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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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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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Come Back my Rose
I am reading the death of a
rose,
One say your rose has gone,
Two denied it's back with
no-one,
Three come to claim with its blame,
No-one has seen what i see,
When I miss One tells me I am
in a mess,
I tried to go but Two assure it
don't flee,
I began to think if it was a
loss,
A loss to miss who never tries
to feel,
Three came to say who dare to
claim without a feel,
A rose is a rose everyday and
every night,
The rose is a rose and was
always a rose,
So, , theory now goes to spread
the light,
The dear only knows what
will next prove a rose,
I want to say but no-one to
blame,
The death had gone and the
Red has become,
So, , come back my rose from
wherever you have gone, ,
..
poem by John Nabeeh Nmr
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I Do Not Run Away From Gried.....
i do not run away from grief
grief itself is the cure of grief,
did you not know that from the thorns grows
this rose?
from boulders, that nugget of gold?
that from dead trees
the rare orchid blooms?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death And Birth
Death and birth should dwell not near together:
Wealth keeps house not, even for shame, with dearth:
Fate doth ill to link in one brief tether
Death and birth.
Harsh the yoke that binds them, strange the girth
Seems that girds them each with each: yet whether
Death be best, who knows, or life on earth?
Ill the rose-red and the sable feather
Blend in one crown's plume, as grief with mirth:
Ill met still are warm and wintry weather,
Death and birth.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Indefinite Pronouns and the Universe
He said;
his arm flowing outward;
'The problem of the 21st Century
is the Indefinite Pronoun.
We're all everyone and no one
indefinite;
pronoun, but not a noun
the universal vagueness
of time, meaning, and identity,
rather like the cloud of electrons
flying around the nucleus of the atom
there and not there;
but capable of being anywhere
or in two places at the same time;
holding many beliefs constantly shifting,
feeling fervently one thing and its opposites
the next minute,
being who am I this minute
and not who I am the next minute;
in a world changing fast
speeding up
and speeding up faster
and faster;
indistinct
shadowy
flashing lights
spark
racing by
approaching
and not approaching the speed of light.
There I'm me, us
none of us;
we,
I
have said it;
both me?
The Indefinite Pronoun Defined
'Singular: another, anybody, anyone, anything, each, either, everybody, everyone, everything, little, much, neither, nobody, no one, nothing, one, other, somebody, someone, something
Plural: both, few, many, others, several.
Singular or Plural: all, any, more, most, none, some'
--
Is this a bizarre definition or what?
More bizarre, if this definition is literally true.
Modern Physics says this definition is literally true;
an accurate description of us and the universe
in which we live,
things popping in and out of existence.
We live in this universe and most likely have to come to
understand, like the indefinite pronoun,
we too, as individuals
and as collectives,
pop in and out of existence.
Not duality,
but multiplicities.
How else to explain
how we can harbor contradictory
beliefs;
sometime many many
in a single day?
And feelings too.
Am I changed in all of this
or merely your view of me?
Devil or Saint?
Depends apparently
upon what
time it is.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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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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Night Close
Under night close
Death rose to greet me.
I turned; looked back,
Though nothing beckoned -
No one cried or mourned.
Scorned by all
- My fellow race -
I shed the byes to empty space, then
Gazed upon the stony face
Of Death anon, and
So chose our treaty.
Line of Death
death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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First rose
A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.
A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.
And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.
She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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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A Grief Message!
When grief stricken
And the heart is full of pain
Of loss of dear one
All beautiful things of Nature
And sweet things of life
Become a matter of no concern
However delightful
They all might have been once
And cannot be enjoyed again so!
Message of grief
Written in nice verse
Moves heart much indeed!
poem by Ramesh T A
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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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Sonnet: When Death Comes Like a Thief…
Behind the veil of newer grief and tears,
God’s Will be done in every Christian’s life;
The love of God may take away few dears,
And tests us with great woes and added strife.
The ways of God are stranger than we think;
He takes some righteous who deserve heaven;
He wipes out evil souls whose sins may stink;
He ignores some for long, whose God’s demon.
Yet, when death strikes a person most holy,
The righteous pray in unison to God
To comfort members of his family,
All shocked by stricken grief that’s just but odd!
God’s ways surprise the wisest ones on earth;
His love of mankind never suffers dearth.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-22-2008
poem by John Celes
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