No Greater Loyalty
This will be our family secret don't tell others how he died
Never mention how my darling son took his own life in suicide
Don't want them saying he opted out of life they would never understand
How our beloved teenager he died at his own hand.
Don't tell anyone we found him hanging from the low branch of a tree
Tell them 'twas of a heart attack that he died suddenly
We do not need their judgements my son must rest in peace
It was of his own choosing that from life he choose release.
Of the darkness that surrounded him we never were to know
The mother she has shed her tears for her son who died six months ago
For to save him from the judgements of the living for her dead son she will lie
She will never admit that he was one who choose his own way to die.
No greater loyalty than the loyalty of a mother when all is said and done
From the judgements of the living she lies to protect her dead son
She takes flowers twice a week to place on the grave where he does lay
And she will grieve for her deceased son till her own dying day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Another Young Soldier
Another young soldier has died far away
An army representative will call on his mother today
For to tell her your son on the course of his duty has died
He served and died for his Country with his mates at his side.
Another war mother will grieve for her son
It will not matter to her if the battle was won
And it will not matter to her if her boy died brave
She will weep every time she will visit his grave.
Another young soldier to join the war dead
A bullet from a sniper hit him in the head
On his next birthday in June he would be twenty three
His loss a heavy cross to bear for his parents and members of his family.
Another young soldier may he rest in peace
At least from further suffering he has found release
Just one more to die in another man's war
On a bombed out back street in a city afar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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~You're Dead Because Of Me~
At times it may seem
That living life is to hard,
Mybody cries and screams
And my trust has been scarred
I'm sick of living but what else can I do
Perhaps suicide?
Everything would be better if I died
But what if I died where would I go?
Would I finally see you?
After all these years,
Through all my tears,
Would I finally be with you?
I saw you going under, I saw your hand,
I saw you reach for me, but I didnt understand
I didnt understand, but now I do,
You were reaching for me,
To help you onto safety,
At the time i didn't see,
And now you're gone, because I didn't help you,
You're dead because of what I didn't do
It's because of me,
That you died,
Because of me that you commited suicide,
ALL MY FAULT! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Cara Green
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The Man Died
The man died and died and died
And finally the man died!
People killed the man severally
Before the man finally died
The mans family labelled
The man dead.
The community labelled
The man dead
.
And above all the man saw in Himself a living ghost
And had since decayed and rotted inside
That not even the warmt
Of a living blood
Could've been enough
To bring the man back
To life again.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here Lie's The truth
“Here Lies the truth”,
On Her tombstone this will be wrote.
It was never spoke when She was living,
So also in death, it will be unspoke.
By Her it was never said
it was as though pulling out Her soul,
So here lies the truth and herself dead
Both has died in sadness and woe.
Here lies the truth,
Not once by her was it cried,
Not in the days that she was living,
Not even in the day that She had died.
She must of believed that it was a sin
To open Her heart and listen to the word
So She closed her heart and locked it shut,
And She never believed in no one but Her.
Here lies the truth,
It lived but a very short life,
Though the Woman died of years of age
The truth though, never had a chance to try.
Everyone She knew had learned Her lie
They never believed a word that she said
So when She finally tried to speak the truth,
Her heart stopped; and She laid dead.
Here lies the truth
It lived but a very short life,
It was loved by neither Child or Man,
For they believe its living was but a lie.
So here in the grave it will lay dead
As it had lived in this woman's soul,
Never again will it be uttered or thought of,
Never till the end of time will it be thought of or known.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poking At Truth
Avoiding Truth comes with cost, but this is the choice of the lost.
Oppose God through evil desire and you will live in the Lake of Fire.
Continue ignoring The Blessed Cross and you’ll suffer eternal loss.
Believing that they do believe, but New Life is just a joke you see.
They say there’s no absolutes anymore, but are they absolutely sure?
There’s no sin it’s in your head, this proves your spiritually dead.
Sin is real, it’s in your heart and without The Lord you will depart.
There’s no God, that’s a joke, but on these very words they’ll choke.
Man did fall as it was written, for the forbidden fruit was bitten.
All have sinned, this you know, but He’ll wash you whiter than snow.
Christ died for you and for me, my friend He died for us upon a tree.
He died so you may see His face and save you from eternal disgrace.
If you think that all men are saved, why are so many still depraved?
If you think that all men are well, why is there a place called Hell?
Hell is not a place of eternal fun, instead a place to fear and shun.
But Heaven you don’t want to miss, for it’s a place of Eternal Bliss.
The fool says there is no God, but this poor soul will see His rod.
Men have boasted of empty pride, many of whom have long since died.
A fool once said God is dead, but who wound up in the grave instead?
Choosing the steps in life to trod they now must face The Living God.
The Bible is just another book, but you need to take another look.
Just take a look and you will see God’s divinely fulfilled prophecy.
If The Bible is from men not seers, how was it done over 1500 years?
My friend, have you not heard that Jesus Himself is The Living Word.
Farewell
Mother, with unbowed head
Hear thou across the sea
The farewell of the dead,
The dead who died for thee.
Greet them again with tender words and grave,
For saving thee, themselves they could not save.
To keep the house unharmed
Their fathers built so fair,
Deeming endurance armed
Better than brute despair,
They found the secret of the word that saith,
'Service is sweet, for all true life is death.'
So greet thou well thy dead
Across the homeless sea,
And be thou comforted
Because they died for thee.
Far off they served, but now their deed is done
For evermore their life and thine are one.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Poem for a mother whose lost her son
I held him safe within my womb
And kissed him in the birthing room
I held his hand in sickness too
And now I don't know what to do
My son, my child, my flesh and bone
Has died and left me all alone
And in the night when no one sees
I cry and end up on my knees
I cry to God and ask Him why
My precious son he had to die
And when the morning light appears
That's one more night I've spent in tears
And as the years they slip away
I learn to live just day by day
I turn to God who was so far
I look to where the answers are
I put my hand into His hand
He pulls me up and now I stand
I hear my Father say to me
'My Son He died upon a tree
I know the pain that mothers feel
When life turns black and robs and steals
And takes a portion of your heart
And tears your very soul apart'
Oh Lord I pray, please make me whole
Replace the joy that life has stole
This pain, this loss, is part of me
But still I'm longing to be free
I choose to walk out through the door
And melancholy reigns no more
I leave behind the shades of grey
To walk in light, to kneel and pray
' Come to me child, I've heard your cry
I saw your tears when your child died
Rest in me and find your peace
Replace your pain and find release'
Despite the fact we had to part
You still live on within my heart
There'll never be a day go by
A tear wont fall from your mother's eye
poem by Frank McEleny
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The Grieving Mother
The grieving mother litres of tears have shed
Since she found her lone child in the garage dead
From a rope tied to a steel beam by the neck he hung
To die for some it never is too young.
His first anniversary he died this day last year
And why he choose to end his life the reason not even clear
His father left her for another before their boy had reached the age of one
And on her own she had to raise her son.
In his eighteenth year he choose his way to die
That life can be cruel is surely not a lie
He did not live for to cast his first vote
And he did not even leave a suicide note.
From her the grief of loss it has not gone away
Today for her another tearful day
Single in her forty sixth year with her cross of grief to bear
'Tis true indeed that life can be unfair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Meet Again
Your mother died
a peaceful death
no heart attack
no fight
for breath
no death rattle
into the night
just a sudden
departure
like a switched out light
all her long life
concluding in this
a gentle going
death's soft kiss
a daughter
at her mother's
bedside
holding her hand
her dementia
needed Teddy
held there
at the end
your mother
died suddenly
to an unexpected
sleep and rest
all worries
and anxieties
gone away
all hoping
and believing
to meet again
some day.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Valentine in Pain
A dream of hidden death,
Embedded in her flowers –
Dripping; drenched in nectar tears
Now the dream of dying soul;
Confined, a trembling heart is
Squeezing out the ember years
And in her dream of youth,
Abounding buttocks writhe,
Acting out the careless dares
But the dream of hideous beauty:
Self-delusion, begging fears
Evolving from an agonising birth, her
Blacker days eclipsing; draining worth
‘So ugly living calls to die –
Forever in the dreams I cry! ’
Erotic debt; a laughing lie
Were done for her –
A blade for sure!
The dreams to cure!
A calming sigh…
And in a smile of pain
She bled and waned
Her cold pathetic bye
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Suicide Suicide Suicide cried
Suicide Suicide Suicide died
Suicide Suicide Suicide sighed
Suicide Suicide Suicide lied
Suicide Suicide Suicide cried
Suicide Suicide Suicide died
Suicide Suicide Suicide sighed
Suicide Suicide Suicide lied
Suicide Suicide Suicide cried
Suicide Suicide Suicide died
Suicide Suicide Suicide sighed
Suicide Suicide Suicide lied
Suicide Suicide Suicide cried
Suicide Suicide Suicide died
Suicide Suicide Suicide sighed
Suicide Suicide Suicide lied
Suicide Suicide Suicide tried
Suicide Suicide Suicide ride!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother
My heart sometimes cries
As it always feels so lonely
Although, I really wish that I could feel love of my mother
Hardly ever, my sweet mother was able to embrace me
Only after Eight months of my birth, she died
Died by jumping in a well and it took her life, at the very next moment
When people realized about her being dead, she was no more
Then as I grew up I always have missed someone who would care unconditionally about me
Unconditional love and care is received through a mother
However, I lost my mother at an very early age
Life, she took of herself
I guess she was really depressed and had no strength to fight her fears
It is sad, since she was my mother and I really always miss her love and care
Without a mother, I always feel so empty
Whenever I witness a mother taking care of her child
It only reminds me of her, again and again
I miss her and I wish she would have loved me if she was present
Mother, why did you leave me?
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Death Levels All
ah, you are a rich man
smart and famous
you have a beautiful house
an expensive car
a nice family
how envious can we be
we have nothing
we are dumb, and anonymous
we can't afford shoes
our father died during the war
mother died from shock
the rest of the siblings
cannot be found
but today i level up with you
you are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How many times has God died for me?
HOW MANY TIMES HAS GOD DIED FOR ME?
How many times has God died for me?
Yes, he’s died
And time and time again
As I’ve written in my book
How many times has God died for me?
How many times has God died for me?
A useful if cryptic phrase
Nietzsche coined in the 19th century
“When Zarathustra was alone, however,
he said to his heart:
'Could it be possible!
This old saint in the forest
hath not yet heard of it,
that God is dead! '
How many times has God died for me?
Each time I’ve had a paradigm shift
In my theological perspective
The God I had died and was replaced
Not by no God but a new God
How many times has God died for me?
A new God but still my God
The product of my heart and my head
A bit less Trinitarian
A bit closer to my own self
How many times has God died for me?
Now he’s not up there nor out there
But in there, a personal creation
Adaptable and changing with circumstances
According to my living, according to my reading.
How many times has God died for me?
I have no room for a God who is exclusive
I have no room for a God who is dogmatic
I have no room for a God, who is sexist,
Racist, anti-gay and British.
How many times has God died for me?
Yes God, my God, needed to die
And be reborn, reinvented
In a more user-friendly package.
So to make God more like me is to make God more PC!
How many times has God died for me?
Till God has become indistinguishable from me
God close to me, God in me
An undying God-sense
A God made to fit every circumstance
A God made to fit every mood
That God will never die for me
Even when I die I pray he will accompany me
The undying God
Who never died on Calvary
Who never died with Nietzsche.
©2009
James Hart
poem by James Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day That I Die
One day I woke up woke up knowing today is the day I will die
Cashdogg was barking went to the park and enjoyed that one last time
Called my mother told her I loved her and begged her not to cry
Wrote her a letter that said Id miss her and signed that goodbye...
You know the happiest day of my life
I swear the happiest day of my life is the day that I die
(the day that I died)
Can you feel the cold tonight?
(the day that I died)
It sets in but its alright
(the day that I died)
Darkness falls Im letting go
(the day that I died)
All alone but I feel fine
We took a drive and we drove thru d.c.
To see the places we lived, long conversations
We talked of old friends and all the things that we did
Summer nights, drunken fights
Mistakes we made...did we live it right?
You know the happiest day of my life I swear the happiest day of my life
Is the day that I died
(the day that I died)
Can you feel the cold tonight?
(the day that I died)
It sets in but its alright
(the day that I died)
Darkness falls Im letting go
(the day that I died)
All alone but I feel just fine
You know the happiest day of my life
I know the happiest day of my life
I swear the happiest day of my life is the day that I died
(the day that I died)
Can you feel the cold tonight?
(the day that I died)
It sets in but its alright
(the day that I died)
Darkness falls Im letting go
(the day that I died)
All alone but I feel just fine
Did I live it right?
I hope I lived it right
I hope I lived it right, I know I lived it right
Did I live it right?
I hope I lived it right, I know I lived it right
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Victory 11/11/18
The Bells ring out great Peals of joy.
The war is won, Great Albion.
It merely cost a million dead,
a generation lost and done.
To you, fate tendered victory sweet,
to the Germans, a bitter peace.
There, fatherless boys, abed, asleep,
plot revenge for their deceased.
In the Wilfred Owen house;
no alloyed joy to meld with sorrow:
That day they learned their son had died
They'll dress the house in Black tomorrow.
His mother knew before word came,
she had a sense her son was gone.
That he'd be among the last to fall
for the glory of Great Albion
He fought almost unto the end,
dying in the war's last week.
When Mortal flesh and bullets meet
Poets are silenced when machine guns speak..
There is a pathos in his fate,
dying in the last week of war
Like the man who sailed the Ocean deep,
only to drown in sight of shore.
The poet Wilfred Owen, died in an attack on a German Machine gun nest on 11/04/1918, one week before the Germans sued for peace. His parents received word that their only son had died just as the Church bells were rung to celebrate the Armistice. Albion is a archaic name for Great Britain
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Dead whno Died for Ireland
The dead who died for Ireland!
Oh, these are living words
To nerve the hearts of patriots —
to steel avenging swords —
They thrill the soul when spoken,
and lowly bend the head
With reverence for the memories
of all our martyred dead.
The dead who died for Ireland —
the noble ones — the best,
Who gave their lives for Motherland,
Who poured upon her breast,
In Freedom's cause, the blood she gave —
Who with their dying breath,
Sent prayers to God to heal her woes —
then sealed their love in death.
The dead who died for Ireland,
How hallowed are their graves!
With all the memories fresh and green,
Oh! how could we be slaves?
How could we patient clang the chain?
How could we fawn and bow?
How could we crouch like mongrels
'neath the keeper's frowning brow?
Be proud, ye men of Ireland!
Be proud of those who died;
Never men o'er all the earth
Had greater cause for pride —
Hope and strive, and league for freedom,
And again the souls will rise
Of the dead who died for Ireland
To cheer you to the prize.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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William Upson
Air -- "The Major's Only Son"
Come all good people, far and near,
Oh, come and see what you can hear,
It's of a young man, true and brave,
Who is now sleeping in his grave.
Now, William Upson was his name --
If it's not that it's all the same --
He did enlist in the cruel strife,
And it caused him to lose his life.
He was Jesse Upson's eldest son,
His father loved his noble son;
This son was nineteen years of age,
In the rebellion he engaged.
His father said that he might go,
But his dear mother she said no.
"Stay at home, dear Billy," she said,
But oh, she could not turn his head.
For go he would, and go he did --
He would not do as his mother bid,
For he went away down South, there
Where he could not have his mother's care.
He went to Nashville, Tennessee,
There his kind friends he could not see;
He died among strangers, far away,
They knew not where his body lay.
He was taken sick and lived four weeks,
And oh, how his parents weep,
But now they must in sorrow mourn,
Billy has gone to his heaven home.
If his mother could have seen her son,
For she loved him, her darling one,
If she could heard his dying prayer,
It would ease her heart till she met him there.
It would relieved his mother's heart,
To have seen her son from this world depart,
And hear his noble words of love,
As he left this world for that above.
It will relieve his mother's heart,
That her son is laid in our grave yard;
Now she knows that his grave is near,
She will not shed so many tears.
She knows not that it was her son,
His coffin could not be opened --
It might be some one in his place,
For she could not see his noble face.
He enrolled in eighteen sixty-three,
The next day after Christmas eve;
He died in eighteen sixty-four,
Twenty-third of March, as I was told.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide, a Sick Fad amongst Teens
This goes out to anyone whose ever contemplated suicide,
This goes out to all the people who choose to hide,
Behind a blade,
Behind a noose,
On a bridge,
On a rooftop,
Behind a pill…………………………………………….
Now the greatest gift in life is life itself,
Now you may not be in good mind but you’ve got good health,
So don’t bother even saying you’re gonna kill yourself,
There’s no other side there aint a heaven or hell,
How can God not love you when their aint no God as well?
How could you do something as stupid as suicide?
It’s on par with the biggies like rape and genocide,
You get one chance, one life, one heart and one brain,
So don’t you dare ever go throw yourself in front of a train,
Suicides a punishment it’s not a release you wont be set free,
Its pain inflicted on oneself its self inflicted you see,
If you rape; go kill yourself,
If you kill; I’ll make you a noose
If you beat your wife, go jump off a bridge,
Suicide is a punishment that only the sick and twisted should do,
A trick conflicted by the innocent, people like you,
Think about the people who love you even if you think they don’t,
They’ll be so upset when you go even though you think they won’t,
You’ll get through this, you’ve got so much to do still,
So get up, wake up and dropp that container of pills,
Hold on, hold on its not over, you need to die naturally,
If we were supposed commit suicide we’d be born with a noose on our neck actually,
I’m frustrated because I see life wasted,
I’m frustrated because I see life wasted,
All because your girlfriend left you or that she died,
God damn it man she’d want you to keep on living,
She’d want you too survive she’d want you to stay alive,
Not end up dead without an occurrence that you actually died,
Why?
Because the bible lied there’s no salvation on the other side,
No pearly gates it’s just an infinite blankness,
Dead is dead and death brings a shudder to my spine,
I couldn’t imaging not being here for a long time,
So just smile wipe those tears, hold back the fears,
Every unfortunate soul will be fortunate over the years,
Life’s a gift and it shouldn’t be neglected,
Even though happiness takes a while to be perfected.
poem by Gaz illionaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Life Is Right Until Lived
When the thrill of living my life has quieted to end,
I will not be discovered procrastinating with any fears.
Or recovering from regrets,
Of not facing challenges to overcome when first met.
Nor is my life in any position for anyone to place bets.
Although I may choose to take those risks 'I' accept.
I am a work-in-progress taking forward not backward steps.
I live a life lived unafraid to make mistakes.
And those monitoring perfection based upon etiquette,
Are powerless to suggest what my identity should be to please.
Since this life I live is 'my' experience without boundaries.
And I will dream to adventure and explore to make known.
No life is right until lived as one decides it.
With...
Or without,
Judgements heard that are passed.
With...
Or without,
Judgements heard that are passed...
No life is right until lived as one decides it.
No life is right until lived as one decides it.
And...
As one decides what life is right for them to live,
Who can demonstrate what perfection is?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You cannot avoid making judgements but you can become more conscious of the way in which you make them. This is critically important because once we judge someone or something we tend to stop thinking about them or it. Which means, among other things, that we behave in response to our judgements rather than to that to which is being judged. People and things are processes. Judgements convert them into fixed states. This is one reason that judgements are often self-fulfilling.
quote by Neil Postman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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