The End
-Written by Alicia B Me you, This room, Deep pain, No tears. Eyes dry, Heart crying, No words, Everything said. Me you, No more, Loves gone, Not here. Both wronged, Both shamed, Never again, The end! Originally posted at Free Poems.My Saddest Day
April 21, 2009 · Filed Under Death Poems, Funeral Poems, In Loving Memory Poems, Memory Poems, Poems of Bereavement · Comment
It all started when in at five past midnight
Now I am lying stiff and cold
Deep in troubled dreamless sleep.
Cotton wool stuffed in my nostrils,
I cannot breathe.
A rag tightening my jaws together,
I cannot protest.
My feet bound together,
Surely there is no escape this time round.
Granny chose they dress me up in my favourite suit,
But this time there [...]
How to Forget
The school of time preaches the art of remembering But souls I’ve crossed crave the art of forgetting And though they say time fades memories ‘Tis not an absolute truth For time reinforces, remembers ever so much more For that which you own, not time nor fate can rob it No event can change it, no circumstance deny it But it is [...]Tales from the Crypt
April 14, 2009 · Filed Under Death Poems · Comment
Once upon a weary night
Whence old moon pondered
Burning away her silver light
In days of yore she hath decorated
Perched amongst the wandering craven
Weaved tales of tales begotten
“Look on thy lands so tender
They speaketh unto minds moved
Of streaming springs and bitter kings
That hath paved the path of yore
To man his own vengeance and pride
That bloometh redder still [...]
A Million More
April 8, 2009 · Filed Under In Loving Memory Poems · Comment
By Kalyani Rajalingham
A million doubts to the thousands I bore
A thousand answers to the millions more
Ah! May the mortal and his tongue
That Has long since been done
Pose many questions
To which answers they may never know!
By the River
(For Eric) You said that dad always liked to take you fishing. You had the patience to sit and wait and watch. Crowds of words didn’t chatter in your head and the squawk of crows was enough to settle your need for language. Your landscape was rural—as factual as a barbed hook. Your talent was observation and from the fishing camp in upward look [...]Subscribe
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