young man, put it down..you're not perfect god knows, it's certainly not worth it when you put it all in to the scheme of life taking it away is the ..........
how did i get these memories? this girl is a stranger to me and yet i see what happened to her i see her cry and plea this girl was murdered by a ..........
silent, stood the scream of me, shackled by the fear; dementia's ghost is close at hand, and death is almost here- confident with his mask of ..........
in the early afternoon hours, he treats her like a queen for when people are around, nothing is what it seems. and all the yesterdays have been ..........
e who weeps pity, sympathy for the young girl in the corner. love written on her arms, an attempt to cover the cuts. sorrow, regret for causing so much ..........
an unlikely hero the dawn erupted in a shower of orange and gold greeted by a sleepless eye, huddled on a bench against the cold. a tattered jacket'a ..........
my name is misty, i am but three my eyes are swollen shut i can not see i must be stupid i must be bad what else could have made my daddy so mad i ..........
the silent car ride, the tearful eyes the day i finally died inside. the blood soaked wrist and the glistening knife were the things that should ..........
Healing and Death
We must find ways to grieve. For without grief there can be no comfort. Often we must force ourselves to reach into our subconscious to uncover our true feelings. Only when we have allowed ourselves to feel all of our pain can we begin to face our loss and slowly begin to heal.
Poetry about Death
Poetry is a great way to get in touch with our sadness. Death poetry has been established in many cultures and religious practices. In Judaism the Mourners Kadish is a beautifully recited prayer for the dead that is exquisitely composed with rhythm and rhyming in Hebrew. The Requiem Mass of the Catholic Church is a monophonic liturgical chant for the dead that has been established for centuries. These are just a two examples of Death Poetry that help aid those in mourning. To sit down with paper and pen, to delve into our subconscious, to expose our true feelings, to turn feelings into words, to shape words into sentences, sentences into complete thoughts into death poetry is an ancient practice to better understand the loss of a loved one.
His face is like a sun, warms the moon beside him.
She´s grown full; tonight begins the waning.
The tide pulls through her very bones,
her form aches as each wave crests.
The earth pulse, heavy, blood warm within her
Beats new chords, old sun god chants.
"You are the first mother and the last,
all spring flesh has traveled through you."
Aztec plumed and gold beaded,
your priest kneels at the holy alter,
gathers each salt pearl shed, nectar for his sacrament.
You are the temple,
we pilgrims swept through the gates,
bent figures know the scent and petals of your presence,
spread our arms to harvest blossoms,
and your priest, sun struck, kneels beside you.
