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Samantha Dec 2017
Mom
Is the one who
  Sacrificed her comfort
   For 9 months for me.
    She taught me
     To play, cook,
      And be a good person.

Max
Is the brother
  I've had since age four
   Often annoying, but
    Still so sweet
     The best brother
      I could ask for.

Babcia
Is the grandmother
  Who has been making
   Some of the best food
    In the family
     She's kind and sweet
      And I love her to bits.

Grandma and Grandpa
Are the grandparents
  I couldn't thank enough
   For all they've done.
    Together, we
     Celebrate
      Party
      Love
     Enjoy
    Our time
   Together
  I wish it
Wouldn't end.

Dad
Is the father who...

...

Gave me half his DNA?
I guess?

...

Poem's over, bye!
We are family!
Louise Johnson Nov 2017
I was sitting on the edge of your hospital bed,
thinking about my mother, your daughter,
and whether the smile she was masking the pain with would falter;
when the jagged rhythm of your breath had altered

I jumped to my feet, and let my mother take my place
as we listened to gasps of breath change the pace.
The nurse said it was normal that you couldn't feel any pain
but it was the sound of your death that I was scared we'd retain

I stood in the corner watching my uncle and mother create a wall with their figures,
as if them looking away would put a hand on the trigger

After 10 minutes your breathing got quiet, so quiet we thought you were gone
Then with the whoosh of your lungs, louder than before, it was like you were saying "so long!"
The silence replaced it, I still stood in the corner and noticed that no one had moved,

As if a moment so final needed it's minute to say goodbye to the body it used.
This is a poem describing the last few minutes of my Grandmother's life. We called her 'Babs' or 'Nanny Babs'  because she was the baby of her family so it has always been her nickname. I wasn't close to her. I loved her but we never got a chance to really know each other until the end of her life so I struggled to find an honest way to write about this moment. It may seem quite distant and unemotional but I respected her greatly and wanted to portray the moment as accurately as I could.

Thank you for taking the time to read my poem for the loved Babs
Angela Rose Nov 2017
Most days she does not remember what day of the week it is or what time it is
But she always remembers how much I love her
Sometimes she calls me by the wrong name and can’t get her words right
But she always remembers to tell me how beautiful I look today
Most days she cannot form a full thought or complete a full action
But she always remembers she wants her tea with honey and lavender is her favorite scent
A lot of days she asks me the same question 17 times and gets the same answer each time
But she always remembers to tell me how much she loves me
You see Alzheimer’s is tricky and it toys with her head
But she always remains a beautiful soul with a heart full of gladness and an undying love for orchids
We've reached our end, you and I. But it's okay, at the end of this is paradise.

Where the people are happy, and you get to smile, but before you cross over, why don't we sit for awhile.

I always thought we'd be forever, that this is something we'd do together, I'd never imagine you leaving.

But I guess every good thing does have an end, and now I'm forced to say goodbye to a mentor and a great friend.

You've gotten to watch me grow over the years and we've been through the laughing, crying and tears. But your next journey nears and I can say this world no longer carries any of my fears.

Because the moment you pass over, will be the moment you take a piece of me with you, and I'll walk away from here without the conflicting issue, that when you leave I'll miss you.

But I can hear them coming for you, and I've accepted this, but this still doesn't seem true. How can I let go of you.?

And now they're hear and I've panicked, to see you smile, hear you laugh, I have to have it.

I spoke so many words yet not the ones that meant a thing to your heart, how can this come and tear us apart.

Who's given them that order and on who's authority, you aren't an expensive good that I can use with a warrenty.

I hate this, I hate the thing that's taken you away from me, this cruel world that's trying to pull a prank on me.

I .. I.. Oh how could I've been so blind, to be so enraged that I didn't realize the time.

How could I not have seen this in the work. All these years, you've body hurt, you tried to keep up but it, but it was no use, you were a ticking time bomb and someone ignited the fuse.

You've been left by your baby sister, brother and mother. How could you bear to lose another.

How could I not see that Uncle Lee's over there waiting on you to kiss you lips and hug your hips and tell you just how much he's missed you.

Maybe I'm I've lost my sight and understanding of all of this. Your presence will be missed.

Dying once is worth more than living twice, so please no more tears, you're on the last train to paradise.
Alexis K Oct 2017
A few days ago it was your birthday
I was okay until I saw your comment,
On my post for you
2
3
4 years ago.
So long yet it hurts still
Like it was yesterday.
People used to always say,
It'll  be okay,
It'll get better.
I believe but not today.
Not on your birthday.
On your birthday I'm not okay,
I won't pretend
I won't say I am.
On your birthday, I just want to sit.
I want to cry.
Because no matter how old you grow
Or the experience you sow,
It hurts.
To lose someone.
Someone so close.
Old or young,
Neither fun.
I wish you could be here.
We got you a cake,
Your name written beautifully on it,
But you can't see it,
Or eat it.
So here's to you,
For teaching me so much,
Teaching me to be tough.
For just your birthday,
I won't be tough,
I won't be okay
I see this space, unraveled eyes.  
The tight ropes that sing when plucked.
The wisdom embedded in the halls of failed yesterdays.
The smiles that preach endless laughter
to the unsuspecting mourning soul.
Falling sparks of ever winter moonlight
beckoning all who see

not for greater glory, ambition, or power. 
 Just the wisdom in old tears, the wealth of blood, the anchor of friendship, and the honor of holding the future accountable.
Jessie Day Sep 2017
She grew up
in the black and white era
and her hair shows it.

Her memories are technicolor
but her photos,
monochromatic.

Were his dreamy eyes
that drove her crazy
blue or green?

What color was
that dress she wore
to her sister's wedding

It's not for us to know,
for her colors stayed
in the black and white era.
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