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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I Know This Poor Bloke
I know this poor bloke in the mood for suicide
And he has felt heavy hearted since the day his wife died
Some five years ago his ache of loss from him not gone
And till the day of his death his grief with him will live on.
I do meet him often though not every day
And for words to him I always feel stuck to say
He always talks of his dead wife and the grief that he feel
And for him I feel sorry since his sorrow is real.
On his sense of loss with him I sympathize
And each time I see him he has tears in his eyes
My condolences to him I already did pay
But the grief that he feels it is with him to stay.
The price of true love it can come at a great cost
And he is left to mourn for what he has lost
One in his late sixties his hair silvery gray
And the clock on his life it is ticking away.
A man due to grief in the mood for suicide
Though he is one now I would rather avoid
Since each time I meet him he talks of his dead wife
And I am one who needs laughter in my life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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
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I Believe So...
does the wind choose to blow?
do rivers choose to run?
does your heart choose to beat?
i believe so...
does the earth choose to turn,
in perfect rhythm, year by year?
do the tides choose to come and go,
in cadence with the moon?
i believe so...
does society choose to be oppressed,
if only by apathy's inaction?
do we choose to let people starve
when we turn the other head?
i believe so...
do we choose war over peace,
to feed the need of greed?
do we choose to destroy nature
by our very lifestyles?
i believe so....
but can we change destiny,
and avert the final blow?
can we open our minds and hearts,
and reclaim life for the living?
i believe so...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Year Like This One
After a year like this one
Im surprised I do not hate your guts
And, after a year like this one
Im suprised I still love music just as much
After a year like this one
Im suprised I did not eat my arm
And, after a year like this one
Im sorry if Im not cordial to everyone
La la la la la ....
After a year like this one
Im suprised I do not hate your guts
And, after a year like this one
Im suprised I still love music just as much
After a year like this one
Im suprised I did not eat my arm
And, after a year like this one
Im sorry if Im not cordial to everyone
La, la, la, la, la.....
After a year like this one
Im supised I am convinced at all
And, after a year like this one
I do not roll my eyes at the cynical
And,after a year like this one
I cant help wonder how theyve been
After a year like this one
I think Ill leave it all to my next-of-kin
La, la, la, la, la.....
After a year like this one
Im suprised were all not raving drunks and
After a year like this one
I want you to choose the restaurant
After a year like this one
Ill need a good whole 16 months alone and
After a year like this one
I think Ill make the west coast beaches my new home
La, la, la, la, la.....
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Over The Wall We Go
Over the wall we go
All coppers are nanas
Over the wall we go
Leave 'em a note saying "happy new year"
I know all the best ways to break out of here
I helped a young laddie called ivan
I bundled him over the wall last night
Then he climbed back and he grabbed me tight
He uttered some words that i can't say to you
'cause he remembered that he was a screw
Over the wall we go
All coppers are nanas
Over the wall we go
Leave 'em a note saying "happy new year"
My name is henry though some say i'm thick
I've spent half me life in and out of the nick
My mum sends me presents to keep me in style
Soggy old cakes and hundreds of files
Now i sussed all them files i'm a clever young man
Now i look stupid with manicured hands
Over the wall we go
All coppers are nanas
Over the wall we go
Leave 'em a note saying "happy new year"
Spoken:
"double 3, 421" "here"
"double 3, 422" "gruesome"
"double 3, 423" "i'm here"
"double 3, 424" "hello"
"double 3, 425" "hi"
"double 3, 426, double 3, 426, where is he?"
"here, keep it up the ledge another course and we're out"
Over the wall we go
All coppers are nanas
Over the wall we go
Leave 'em a note saying "happy new year"
My name is regie the scandolous mind
I got seven years so i gossip my time
I gave all the tickbits and pieces of newt
I'm a privilidged corpse and my uniform is blue
The new lads would ask me if i am a screw
I'll tell them oh cheeky not even for you
Over the wall we go
All coppers are nanas
Over the wall we go
Leave 'em a note saying "happy new year"
Over the wall we go
All coppers are nanas
Over the wall we go
Leave 'em a note saying "happy new year"
Over the wall we go
All coppers are nanas
Over the wall we go
Leave 'em a note saying "happy new year
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lisa Bellear
She was a marvellous woman and people like her are rare
The activist, poet and singer the great Lisa Bellear
Dead in her forty sixth year that seems so young to die
The reaper who claimed her life will claim the life of you and i.
In the aboriginal society of Melbourne her's was a well known name
And in greater Australia not a stranger to fame
A beautiful human being she had a heart of gold
The good die young true in her case she was not meant to grow old.
Gone from life but not forgotten yet none to take her place
With others she shared her gift of laughter and life she did embrace
The Melbourne indigenous community are in mourning the tears for her will flow
They have lost a friend and mentor one they did love and know.
I heard in the news this morning Lisa Bellear had died
An indigenous activist she was known far and wide
And may she rest in peace now back to Nature she has gone
But fond memories of the great one are destined to live on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Do I Live...Or Die?
suicide has been tempting me
with a permanent gift
I'm hoping to soon see
suicide is helping me
through the troubles
it's setting me free
it told me
there will be one moment of pain
for a lifetime of relief
so just choose your favorite
way to die
and you will no longer be alive to cry or grieve
so I choose the fastest way to die
and still I
cry and cry
with the gun to my head
and the fear in my heart
I look on the floor where the blood is red
and I think
how did this all start?
it doesn't matter how it was started
just pull the trigger
and it'll all be over
suicide whispers I'm my ear
confirming id never live another year
I clear my head
one last time
and just as I was about to pull
something happened
my friend walked in and screamed
I came close to shooting her
she came and took the gun
and she started to yell
' what are you doing?
your soul will burn in hell! '
Then let it burn because I don't care
I'm sick of my life's sad and boring tale
I don't know how to finish this
weather I live or die
I just can't decide
I don't even know why
poem by No Reason To Care
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A year ago today, the 9/11 poem
It was a year ago today
Twin towers built of steel and stone
Still stood beside the water’s edge
To greet the final morning dawn
It was a year ago today
Some Saudi’s bent on suicide
Commandeered a flock of planes
And human reason crucified
It was a year ago today
That wingless angels sought to fly
From the upper stories strewn with glass
To flee the fires of hell they tried
It was a year ago today
When dust and darkness reigned at noon
As glaring spotlights pierced the night
Stone by stone we searched the ruins
The year has past as it always must
3000 people now but dust
But should you come to walk Ground Zero
Tread lightly on the stuff of heroes.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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On Hearing Of The Death Of Kevin Hickey
Sad news a news that travels far and wide
And I was told of how young Kevin Hickey died
On the Shannaknock road of his car he lost control
And the reaper claimed his body not his soul.
He was pre-deceased by his Mother Kathleen
And his better days in life he had not seen
And his father John is left to bear sorrow's cross
And grieve the tragedy of his heart-breaking loss.
And though the accident that claimed young Kevin's life happened a few years ago
The scars of grief to heal are always slow
And the pain at the loss of his son in such a tragic way
With John Hickey till his own end will stay.
At the spot where Kevin died John erected a grotto as a memorial to his son
And it would seem that is as much as anyone could have done
To honour some one that they loved so dear
Such stories of love are heartening to hear.
I have heard of how young Kevin Hickey died
And such sad news does travel far and wide
And his remains will rest in peace forever more
But his soul lives on the soul has wings to soar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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One Year
What's in a year?
We watch it disappear.
Its days go by.
They seem to fly
into the ethers of the past.
A year too swiftly
does not last.
And yet each day within the year
contains within it
every single minute
where your life is resolute
and filled with purpose.
A year is not just calandar days
to be scratched off one by one.
When you do this it's then you find
you miss out on its fun.
In a year one can learn
to appreciate the time you have
to be among the living,
the time you have for giving.
In a year you learn about power
that allows you to fill each hour
with everything you love.
What's in a year?
All things new that can appear,
things you've never given thought to,
things in life you want to do.
Before the year has gone away
see before you each new day
and as the year meets its end
be one who can say
'This year has been my friend.
It gave me solace, gave me peace
and it gave me the chance to release
Pain.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Born To Be Ransomed
Born to be ransomed,
Born for a reason,
On one side Love,
On the other side Security,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed elsewhere,
Or,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed with them,
Born to be ransomed,
Held ransomed by those,
For security measures of the father and mother,
So,
They are called on by the beckoning,
Of,
Those holding child held by ransomed,
Is what people do when child means,
A lot to mother and father,
Love and security in family keepings,
Born to be ransomed,
With intent to use child,
By the takers of child,
To profit and gain,
For themselves in lifes times,
When child born is then used,
Till,
Mother and father is killed,
And,
Child is then raised in a racket,
For,
What mother and father were,
And,
Left for the child when child grown,
In giving is receiving,
All that has good intentions,
Gives for good reasons,
Yet,
Why one is born to be ransomed,
Is,
The what see's and pre-desires,
The placement and life,
Of,
What two in love have made,
The unborn child then becomes,
The ransom of what wants,
What,
The two have in love and wealth,
When this goes on and child is grown,
The eyes that see and yet do not understand,
Is,
The child raised seeing all,
From,
The good ways,
To the bad ways,
To the cruel ways,
To,
The crimes committed and seen,
Is,
The eyes of seeing,
From,
Been born in a world disrupted,
Is,
A child born and ransomed,
What is of matter,
Mattering to two,
Two in love,
That,
Choose to be one,
One as in a couple,
To matter and be,
For,
What matters to them,
Is,
What brings matter of two,
To,
Become a matter of one,
A,
Child born of two,
Yet,
Now matter's to none,
But,
What ransoms the child out,
Till,
The child grew to be,
And,
Left them all behind,
Knowing,
Mother and father are dead,
Living,
Life knowing too much,
Just,
From been the ransom,
The ransom,
Of,
All,
That,
Is,
Of,
Mother and father,
Till,
All,
Of,
Mother and father's,
Income and places,
Was,
Spent and giving to others,
Tis,
Then,
Ransomed child grown,
Can,
Leave,
With noting,
But themselve,
To have some kind,
Of life,
Somewhere else,
Faraway!
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Death Comes To Any Age
There is one story that makes me shudder
And so with care I live each day
It is about a mother and a daughter
Who went to a mall for her birthday.
The mother promised the eight year old
For a cellphone as her requested gift,
Excited to call her Dad, she was told-
As they crossed a street, she ran so swift.
The daughter had crossed ahead and saw
That her mother was left at the other side
And so like a child she ran back although
The lights had changed for the street so wide.
The lights turned to green and it was a 'go'
As all vehicles started to go running
Cars and trucks speeding traffic flow
Not seeing the small child who was just then crossing.
The truck driver saw her but it was too late
The brakes did not have the time to hold
The little girl met her untimely fate
As the truck ran over that eight-year-old.
The hysterical mother went into shock
Seeing her child's brains on the pavement
In grief she almost had a heart attack
Screamed in tears all her anguished lament.
The lesson here that Death teaches us all
One may be eighty or be eight-year-old
But when He chooses to give us a call
With Him, there's no young and there's no old.
This is a true story that happened in our city in front of a big mall. All who witnessed the tragedy were affected by it.
-
February 3,2010
Philippines
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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New Year
IN the coming year enfolded
Bright and sad hours lie,
Waiting till you reach and live them
As the year rolls by.
In the happy hours and radiant
I would like to be
Somewhere out of sight, forgotten,
Your delight to see.
But when you are tired and saddened,
Vexed with life, dismayed,
I would steal your grief, and lay it
Where my own is laid--
Bleed my heart out in your service
If, set free from pain,
You, through me, found life worth living,
Glad and fair again.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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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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A Single Tribute
And there is just
A single floral tribute
On that lamppost now
On this, the latest
Anniversary of loss,
Where there were many
Those few years ago
When kith and kin
And sundry strangers
Felt unbounded cost
As life’s young dream
Was roughly wrenched
Out from their grasp
When cruel knife
Performed its task.
Now, there is only one
Memorial to your life
From whom, I do not know.
Is it a sister, lover, wife
Or grieving mother
Missing her lost son?
And though for others
Time’s healing work has done
Its level best,
One still is left
To bring you flowers;
One still remains
In whose torn heart
You still shall live
So she can share your pain.
And, though the years go past
And struggling memory fades,
Your face will smile within
Until she lays,
As you do, in her grave.
A single tribute
On the lamppost, still
Is needed just to give
The world the indication
You existed
And you lived.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable
The death of a twelve year old,
Her sister shed tears,
But the body was cold,
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
She felt all had lost hope,
It was her fault,
'I let go the rope! '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
'I should have pulled her up'
'I lost grip'
'I should'nt have given up! '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
'You trusted me! '
'And there is no reason....'
' No you shouldn't have, see? '
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
'No! It's not your fault! ',
Said her sister,
Who lay dead in the vault,
Loss Unbearable, Loss Irrepearable.
poem by Ulveena Aitzaz
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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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Our Nephew Thomas
Our nephew Thomas Duggan died at twenty three
And he is one I'll never meet or see
For he is one i never met before
And he is at rest now forever more
In distant Chicago in the U S A
From where i live a half a World away
His loss to his family time can only heal
My late brother John's son he has one brother Neil
I met his mother Nancy years ago
A lovely lady this for her a tragic blow
A devoted mother and to John a loving wife
She has a heavy cross to bear in life
He died in an accident in April of this year
Such sad news one would rather not to hear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Child Still In Mourning
Year after year after year; a child in mourning
with no tears. So many questions with little to
no answers shared, but still told your father was
your pal. But missing from my life is that pal, like
missing my first steps, my first smile. You chose to
be absent, to not be around, to hear the words love,
hell yes there met with a frown. Since when did love
mean torment and pain? I know life is sunshine and
rain, but why my seasons never change? And then it
happens, you finally step in to fill that space, To
be my father, my mentor, my support rock, my base.
Then, just as simply you enter, you leave me with
just a trace. The pastor says ashes to ashes, and now
a earn takes your place.3/5/02... The day a son and
father pasted,3/5 eternal the time I mourn with
love, with anger, with forever seasons last.
poem by Emmanuel Bannister II
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