love Died Young
They met at the local library
One cold wintry day
They had nice conversation
And later met again at
A local party
He had hair of black
Blue eyes and a lovely smile
He was so handsome in her eyes
Her hair was golden like wheat
Her eyes were emerald green
Her beauty was rare
He adored her
They dated for 2 years
Then one day he fell to his
Knees all pride pushed aside
And he asked her to become his wife
She gratefully accepted his proposal
With God as the witness that day
Three years have passed
Two children came to them
A blessing from God
A boy and a girl-twins they were
Then three years later
The wife falls to the floor
She weakly said: “I am ok now” as
A hand was extended to help her to her feet
After the doctor’s exam
She was told she had a short
Time to live for she could not be healed
Love so young how could this be?
Her husband and two small children struggled
Wondering how could God let such a terrible thing
Happen to such a good family
Love died so young the husband
And children found strength to carry on
The mother lives on through them all
But how they long to find out in the end
Why love had to die so young?
©Copyright 2006 Becky LaPrarie
poem by Becky LaPrarie
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Related quotes
My wonderful wife............
Since we married, our life journey sails smoothly
step by step with out any barrier or trouble
We walk side by side as a husband and wife
We know the day when we started our life
Those roads were hard and mountain to walk and climb
The sun and rain showered its strength on us while walking on the road
The nights were thoughtful of our future instead of honeymoon
But your strength and faith made me to over come all those obstacles
Your love and courage energized me to build up from the scrape
Your kindness and patient kept me away from sadness and frustrations
You are always remains as my wonderful and loving wife
Now we have lovely family and blessed with two wonderful sons
We can be proud what we have done for us and for our children
Our love and guidance could help our children to live decently
Not only they will learn to care of their children but also us
It has been twenty years since we told ' I Do' front of God
But my love still grows for you strong and everlasting trust
I could not imagine how my life would have been without you
I have to thank God for giving me a wonderful and understanding wife
and making us a great family as husband, wife and children
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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The Divorcee
She's been through a messy divorce case and single now she will remain
And she feels she's had it with marriage and she'll never marry again
She tried her best to save her marriage at least she gave it her best try
And from her past mistakes she has learnt like they say 'once bitten twice shy'.
She had seven years of married life and five of those years for her hell
And years from now she will remember yes she will remember too well
The beatings she received from her drunken husband as their two young children looked on
And they like their mother feel happy since out of their lives he has gone.
She married for love and love only but her feelings of love quickly soured
And years from now she will remember how beneath his cruel blows she cowered
Her children now ten and eleven feel happier without their dad
He often beat them and their mother and by him they were treated bad.
A woman in her early thirties she has only turned thirty two
And she vows she'll never re-marry that one marriage enough to go through
Her ex husband now is re-married and her sympathies are with his wife
And she hopes that he will treat her kindly and that he's learnt from his mistakes in life.
Her son and daughter soon to be teenagers are all that she worry about
That 'life isn't meant to be easy' at such a young age they found out
She raise them as a single mother and she works hard for them every day
Since her ex husband doesn't pay alimony or help them out in any way.
She vows that she'll die a divorcee and that she'll never marry again
And the sad memories of her broken marriage through her life time with her will remain
For she took the abuse and beatings when she was a callous
man's wife
Still she doesn't feel bitter towards him she merely gets on with her life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Linley From Dubbo
Though she is only forty four she looks much older
And gray through her shoulder length hair of brown
But twenty years ago she looked a beauty
One of the finest in Dubbo her Hometown.
She married young when she was only twenty
And she was pregnant on her wedding day
She loved her husband and to him was faithful
But her price for loving him too high to pay.
Her angry husband when drunk often beat her
But next morning he'd say I'm sorry dear
I promise you that this again won't happen
Perhaps I ought to give up on the beer.
But his promises to her were quickly broken
The leopard never seems to change his spots how true
He often came home from the pub aggressive
And he often beat poor Linley black and blue.
Till she grew tired of Jack her violent husband
And she took her daughter Jo and headed south
Since that day ten years back she hasn't seen him
And where he now lives she doesn't wish to find out.
Linley from Dubbo is a young grand mother
Her grand daughter will be two years old next may
She won't be going back for to live in Dubbo
In Ferntree Gully she's happy to stay.
Since she left her husband she has had many relationships
But none of them lasted more than a year
But she says soon that she will meet her soul mate
And happy times for her she feels are near.
Despite all she has been through she feels so positive
And she has got a good approach to life
And lovely Linley from Dubbo in her forties
For some lucky man will make a marvellous wife.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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Learning from Her Painful
There is a widow
She is very old
She lives in a hut
with her third - sick son
Her skin and her old eyes
can not hide her painful heart
But she try to smile and
she try to make her face
look very fresh
She has a dream
A commonly dream
After Her husband passed away
for many years ago
She wants to make her children
Three gentleman and one girl
get a good education and
get a good job
But the happy moment
seems so far away go from her
She find her children with unhappy situation
Her eyes look sad
She is my mom
I feel guilty to find her become like this
But, i also a helpless woman
who needs to help a sick husband
Mom, i am sorry to make you feel this
Just pray for us, your children
So in your old days
we can make you smile again
Lord, please hear her pray
A Grieving Widow
From the cemetery in Cameron Street she's a short walk away
And often at her husband's grave for his soul she does pray
An old miner of the black coal two years ago he died
Soon she will go to join him to lay forever by his side.
Her husband in his mid seventies when the Reaper for him came
And without her one true soul mate life for her not the same
They migrated to Wonthaggi in their early twenties in nineteen fifty three
He was her childhood sweetheart back home in Italy.
The saddest time of her life has been the last two years
She still grieves for her husband for him she still shed tears
Even at the mention of his name the tears come to her eyes
The stonger the bond of love is the sadder the goodbyes
Her son and daughter in Wonthaggi to her they live quite near
And stories of her old Homeland her grand kids love to hear
She tells them of the happy times their grand dad and her did know
When they were young in Italy so many years ago.
At her husband's grave in Cameron Street she says a silent prayer
A woman in her mid seventies with a silvery head of hair
And tears are welling in her eyes at her memories of the past
But no one lives forever and nothing ever last.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Happy Birthday Love
For my wife who is -? Today
Today is your birthday
and you are telling everyone
that you are twenty-one years young.
The children don’t believe it
as it makes you younger that them.
When you tell them they say,
“In your dreams, mum.”
However, having said that
you are twenty-one to me
still filled with love and vitality.
We’re still young as when we fell in love
and today is your birthday.
You are sure to have a good one
surrounded by friends and family.
That is all I have to say except
Happy Birthday Love,
have a wonderful day.
Your loving husband David,
the one born down on the funny farm.
8 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Just An Ordinary Fellow
His life revolves around work his mates and football
But his wife and children he seldom does talk of at all
Each evening after work he calls to the pub
Or else to the bar-room of the Football Club.
In his early to mid thirties he is well liked in the town
To have kicked five goals in the local Grand Final is his one claim to renown
And though his team did not win the flag he earned his local fame
With a best on ground display on a beaten side he made for himself a name.
His wife takes care of the children a boy of four and a girl of three
She is not well known in the town few as down to earth as she
So different from her husband she's never seen at the pub
And she is not a member of any local club.
He is a well liked character and in the town well known
And the local people say of him he is one of our own
Not a bad husband and father though better than him not hard to find
Just an ordinary fellow in his own way he is kind.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Life Forever
We are meant to live together
Husband and wife forever
Young and so in love
Passionate nights ahead
Motherhood takes over
Sparkling parental joys
Baby's dear cries
How lovely his smiles
Sensible existence
Complete with children
Honey are we happy
Just like our puppies
Youth and years disappear
Wisdom and respect appear
A long road not really straight
Scattered burdens and weights
Look backwards grateful
Keep being faithful
We are meant to live together
Husband and wife forever
Old and still in love
Passionate eternity above
Life forever
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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In Loving Memory
A long time ago,1976 to be exact
a friend said I should go along
to a writing class he had joined.
Therefore, I did and met someone,
who was to change my life.
However, I did not know it at the time.
For the first couple of years he was simply my tutor.
However, as the years rolled on,
he became my mentor,
and most of all my friend.
For every year, we knew one another
the friendship grew stronger than before.
Before I met Maurice,
he had published four novels
and I have every one.
He started with A City Called Holy,
next came The Splendour and the Havoc,
and then The World and the Flesh,
and finally Across the Frontier.
He also wrote plays,
produced, directed and acted
in them with his wife Peggy.
When I met him his books
were out of print,
but through the years,
I found them one by one.
After a friendship that lasted
over seventeen years Maurice died.
However just before he passed away,
he told me how his local library
had approached him, wanting to know
if he had any copies of his books,
as they only had one left.
He did not and felt sadly about that.
As he told me, I made a promise to myself.
Not matter how long it took,
or how much it would cost,
his local library would have,
those books of his they did not have.
More than ten years passed from the time of his death,
until I was finally able to fulfil my promise.
I collected through the years
the books the library was missing.
In January 2006, I presented them to his local library.
It was a way of saluting a special friend,
helping keep his name alive.
I did it because of the special gifts,
through the years he gave me.
His friendship, his knowledge and help
with my writing no one had ever given before.
Therefore, any success
that I may ever achieve
can be contributed to him.
A gentleman of words,
my tutor, my mentor,
and lastly a very kind and special friend.
(For the late Maurice Callard)
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Golden Wedding Day
It was fifty years ago Mom
That you saw that special smile.
He was handsome, tall and debonair
He was definitely your style.
She was everything you wanted, Dad
Your search came to an end.
Your asked her if she’d be your wife
So your lives could soon began.
She needed time she said, to date
But found no man to compare
So you drifted close together
Into a love so strong, so rare.
The children came eventually
There were good times, and yes, some bad
And though your marriage vows were tested
You found a love you’d never had.
You laid a strong foundation
That many kids grow up without
And I’ll take this time to thank you
Our home had love, there was no doubt.
And now it seems impossible
That fifty years have past.
You were blessed with special qualities
For a marriage that would last.
As we gather here together
We all just want to say,
A special “Congratulations”
On your Golden Wedding Day.
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Sorrow
I walked into the park and saw a young man sitting by a flower bed
I asked him why he looked so miserable and this is what he said,
“Sixty years ago I fell in love with a beautiful girl and now she has to die
I knew her time would come one day, but the years have just flashed by.
I knew that it was wrong to love her, but my heart ruled over my head.
I was there when she was born at home and I stood by her mother’s bed.
As the years passed I watched over her, and proposed when she was sixteen.
She was so young and beautiful then, and everyday we lived a dream.
She didn’t know that I was different and I just couldn’t bear to tell her so,
but she had suspicions as her hair greyed, and my age didn’t show.
And now my heart is breaking because I want to die and be with my wife,
without her my life isn’t worth living, and I no longer want this life.
For sixty years life has been wonderful for me and my only true love,
but soon I must take her up and leave her in the heavens above.
I don’t know how I’m going to take the woman I adore from my side.
I’m sorry for sharing my sorrow with you, ” and as he left he cried.
poem by Orlando Belo
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My Wife’s Second Husband
THE WORLD goes round, old fellow,
And still I’m in the swim,
While my wife’s second husband
Is growing old and grim.
I meet him in the city—
It all seems very tame—
He glances at me sometimes
As if I were to blame.
Oh, my wife’s second husband
Was handsome, young and true;
He had his boyish visions
(I had my visions too).
He made a model lover—
The greenest in the game—
They say, when I was married
That I was just the same.
Though I am ten years older
My hair is dark to-day,
While my wife’s second husband
Is quickly growing grey.
I drank when first he knew me,
And he drank not at all;
I see that he, through drinking,
Is going to the wall.
A sweet ill-treated woman,
A drunken brute (Good Lord!)—
Ah, well, she got her freedom,
And he got his reward.
He’ll fight it out a season,
For Fate will not be forced,
But my wife’s second husband
Shall surely be divorced.
I sympathize, and wonder
What mutual friends would think
If my wife’s second husband
And I should have a drink.
And I a mere bystander—
It almost seems absurd—
Might lay prophetically
My hand on my wife’s third.
But my wife’s second husband
His sorrows shall forget,
We’ll clasp warm hands in friendship
And clink our glasses yet.
We’ll smoke cigars together,
In pure philosophy,
While calmly contemplating
The fate of number three.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Why Do Women Cry
I had gotten this from a friend, and the author is unknown
But it is so beautiful I decided to post it for others to read.
There was no title so I added my own title.
Why do women cry
Why are you crying? A young boy asked his mom.
Because I am a woman, she told him.
I don’t understand, he said.
His mom just hugged him and said:
And you never will, but that’s okay.
Later the little boy asked his father,
Why does mom seem to cry for no reason?
All women cry for no reason.
Was all his dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man,
Still wondering why women cry.
Finally, he went on his knees and asked god:
GOD*** why do women cry so easily?
And god answered…
When I made women, I decided she had to be special.
I made her shoulders strong enough to carry
The weight of the world,
Yet her arms gentle enough to give comfort!
I gave her the inner strength to endure childbirth
And the rejection that many times will come
even from her own children!
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going
And take care of her family and friends,
Even when everyone else gives up, through
Sickness and fatigue, without complaint!
I gave her sensitivity to love her children
Under any and all circumstances, even when
her child has hurt her badly!
She has the very special power to make a Childs
Boo-boo feel better and to quell a teenagers
Anxieties and fears.
I gave her the strength to care for her husband,
Despite faults, and I fashioned her from his rib
To protect her heart!
I gave her the wisdom to know that a good husband
Never hurts his wife but sometimes tests
her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly!
Son, for all of this hard work…
I also gave her a tear to shed.
It is hers to use whenever needed and
Is her only weakness!
When you see her cry,
Tell her how much you love her
And all she does for everyone.
And even though she may still cry,
You will have made her heart feel good.
She is special! ! !
poem by Louis Rams
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It's not that I hate women, Dear homegrown comrades
By Ombuge Moses
Dear Homegrown comrades,
It’s not that I hate women
As naught as I may look
As humble as I am
In-fact,
I treasure women
I love women
I adore women
I want to date a woman
Marry a woman
Have children
Have a birth control
Be a village elder
Not a polygamist
As you say it, culture dictates
But the way you do it!
It’s not that I hate women
Dear homegrown comrades
At 12 years
Young girl is sent
A razor to buy
A river to wash
The bush to host
Home not to turn
The cut, so merciless
So inhuman
So painful
The elder women
Steer the process
Culture to maintain
The men are mobilized
Bidding for a wife
A wife at 12
This is not human
It’s not that I hate women
Dear homegrown comrades
The young girl wails
Pain to suffocation
Pain of a bloody cut
A cut treasured by society
Maintained by women
Elderly, to be home
Preparations to make
To make, a wife
A wife at 12
Dear homegrown comrades
It’s not that I hate women
In the bush, she is tied
Tied together, her legs
Urine not to spill
Spilling is bad omen
More cut is initiated
This hurting feeling
As you read
Am hurting
To witness, to victim
Think twice
Upon my letter
It’s not that I hate women
Dear homegrown comrades
Its weeks of heeling
A process of making
Making a wife
A wife at 12
Men continue bidding
Local brew in containers
Highest bidder carries the day
Walking tall, tall they are
Short is the girl
A wife at 12
Dear homegrown comrades
It’s not that I hate women
The man maybe tall, short, thin but not fat
The man maybe 98
Maybe 70
Maybe 48
Maybe 32
Maybe 21
Maybe 13
The wife at 12
The highest bidder
Takes her away
This culture is a pain
The pain has to stop
Dear home grown comrades
It’s not that I hate women
From the bush
The girl is brought
Lead by elderly women
Celebrations underway
Men prepare the meat
A wife is ready
The husband of any age
The wife at 12
The people are happy
Culture is blossoming
Ululations are heard
The animal lost a life
A wife has been made
Its not amusing
A wife at 12
Dear homegrown comrades
It’s not that I hate women
The men are lined
The women Dance
The meat in plenty
The chosen woman
Most, elderly
Reveals the secret
To the girl about husband to be
The girl is to point
Failure result to beating
Hurting the healing girl
Until she chooses
The husband to be
Culture dictates
Dear home grown comrades
It’s not that I hate women
As sun sets
Dust settles
Bones pile
New territory created
Polygamy has ruled
Chosen husband
Highest bidder
98 years of age
Has a new wife
A wife at 12
To pile in a hut
Children to bear
Culture dictates
To this
A risky business
As you call me “the village boy”
Until we change
Dear home grown comrades
It’s not that I hate women
Women to be protect
Educated to be
Marriage when they want
Hard it may sound
To this I rest
In my hat
My skin bed, so cold
Tomorrow not to witness
Dear homegrown comrades
In my heart
Women I love
It’s a mistake to mistake me
Its not that I hate women
Yours,
The village Boy
poem by Ombuge M Moses
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Pretty woman
Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.
poem by See Fee Lee
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Cancer
he went to the doctor because of
a pain in his chest.
they gave him a physical and ran every test.
the doctor told him:
the results will come back within one week
then we'll sit and we'll speak.
the results came back, just like he said
and with it bad news, of which he had dread.
CANCER! how can that be, i am only thirty three.
what will happen, what can i do.
i have a family just like you.
what will happen to my children
and my lovely wife, how will she
survive in this uncertain life?
two kids to raise and her husband not there.
what is GOD thinking, does'nt he care.
i'll accept death, be it as may.
but i always dreamt with my children i'd play.
now with the bad news he had to face the family.
should he tell them the truth, or tell them a lie.
but sooner or later he would die.
that night with tears in his eyes
he told his family he was going to die.
the time i have left on this earth only GOD can tell.
and if i'll go to heaven, or if i'll go to hell.
so while i am here, i want to share my entire life
with my family, because with you is where i want to be.
we're going to do all the things that we've
never done before, like take a trip to the shore.
all the sports that we wanted to do
fishing, boating, hunting, hiking
and just some quality time all alone.
for i don't know when i'll be coming home.
i want you all to remember this:
this is not words of good-bye
for we'll see each other on the other side.
CANCER: THINK ABOUT IT BEFORE YOU TAKE THAT DRAG
FOR IT MAY BE YOUR VERY LAST.
poem by Louis Rams
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She Was A Nice Old Lady
Does it really matter one little bit at all
If only her family and her few friends memories of her do recall
She was a nice old lady that much of her I did know
But she did not die easily her end painful and slow
I had not seen her for somewhile but sad am I to say
That this evening one who knew her told me she was buried yesterday
In the flesh she will not be seen walking in the park again
But fond memories of her in those who knew her are destined to remain
Pre-deceased by her husband he died ten years ago
Their only offspring a Granddad in his late fifties the years on him begin to show
To her son she was a good mother and to her husband she was a good wife
A kind and caring person and one who did love life
Since her husband life departed she had lived on her own
She did not have a public profile and she was not well known.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Are You a Good Husband?
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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Treat Each Living Second As Your Last
When I was five how I wanted to be ten,
I just longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance to far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time fades past me so slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a dad,
My life is truly a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow old,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
As I know it cannot be controlled.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Cherish life for it's far too short,
Enjoy what you have age you cannot subdue,
When you're young these facts you distort.
I'm now eighty years old how I wish I were five,
Hindsight's such a wonderful thing,
All those I loved dearly would still be alive,
I'd be thinking of what the future might bring.
You must live for today forget tomorrow,
Just be thankful for being alive,
Though there will be joy as well as sorrow,
It's how we cope that makes us all thrive.
Life is precious don't ever wish it away,
When it's gone it becomes part of the past,
Enjoy your years every wondrous day,
‘' Treat Each living Second As Your Last ‘'