My love don’t live here anymore.
My love don’t live here no more,
The body it has gone,
but the soul it lingers on.
My love don’t live here no more!

You’ll hear me whisper in your ear,
You’ll hear me whisper in your ear,
Though the body; it has gone,
The pain it lingers on.
You’ll hear me whisper in your ear!

Let me go, let me go, don’t you cry!
You’ll meet me on the other side,
You promised me a song,
Now let it be a happy one.
And hold me in your arms for one last time.

And you’ll meet me in that place some other time!
Love loss death
Her sent was carried on the breeze ,
wafting through the oaks,
sweeping
under dead leaves,
rustling
through tall grass and weeds;
I stopped to sniff
but it vanished.

Her eyes were present in the stream,
sparkling on the current,
glistening
with angelic gleam,
and I,
as if in a dream
looked on until the sun fell,
and they vanished.

Her face was smiling in a cloud,
floating above the earth,
peaking
through her cotton shroud,
wiping my eyes
as I cried aloud;
when I looked up again
she had vanished.

I find her memory everywhere,
but from this world she has vanished.
Tears scar
my fevered
red face
as I rage
against
these
unites states.

Pillars of pain
pushed to the point
of bullets and
blood stained
t-shirts.

To young,
to run
far enough
away
that day,

Now politicians
send thoughts and
prayers
but that is
much too little
to even be late.

The media
garners
silent stares
of inaction
while anonymous
internet commenters
call grieving parents
crisis actors.

facebook posts
of dividing positions
put friends in
combative opposition.

I would like
to be fair and neutral,
but the roots
run red and deep
as this dark sea of grief
rises from its sedated state.

So,
I keep on asking
how many more children
have to die
before people do
something right.
the skyline holds time as shadows vanish
darkness claims the sunset like an avalanche
faint sounds from the passing of the sun
wake aging prophets
an old street shines like half a moon
stops signs and streetlights bend for recollection
illuminating the way back home
like feathers in the wind
I claim this place in memory's defense
taunting me, calling me, inspiring a visit
enlightened shortcuts of madness beg me to exist
winds reunite the path where I always kept watch
alive again and moved by the serenading locust
mother's whistle signals a last minute warning
Eager faces turn intent for the race that fly's us home
barefooted barely touching the asphalt
flying for the victor’s just reward
measured over and forever the chase to our front door
with a birds pace we keep foot to foot, over and again
yes we're here, ear to ear keeping the perfect pace
transcendent is this place
Indignant will begins the pretense
ignoring all exits
I am once more the Gatekeeper
miles mark our years endeared
life has dealt us hands separate and fatal
trailing again I let you win,
now you stand deep in my sight
catching your breath, to be claimed triumphant
all my senses dive in for the quench
as hope drops me like an anchor
every tingling nerve that is my existence
runs fated and bound
now you stand deep in my essence
assured by your eyes so alive
our giggles and stares
in an instant I become the intruder
found failing, time mocks and stalks me
I would give all right here and now
to hold your hand, warm with life
I become resistant and mighty as the Titan
sure to win by force or stride
I've counted insane these links in my chain
still destiny sentences you to remain
hand in hand I pull you close and life takes you back
this tradition, time demands
endless subtle calls
the voice I follow home
a last minute escape
possessing a map of this world
a place in time
where I find you alive

Terry D'Arcy-Ryan



Michael Gene Dorsey
May 21st, 1966 to April 11, 2011
For my brother Michael. I am the gatekeeper my job will never end.  I love you.
Melissa 3d
When
I
Became
A
Motherless
Child
I
Became
Lost
I
Became
Wild
Hey y’all, in the wake of the recent tragedy we faced and the number of innocent lives lost in the process and also the countless number of children who take their lives everyday, I wrote a poem about how it would be if the children could come back to their parents for one day. Let me know what y’all think.

“The River”

Earth, broken and dry, looks up to the sky, and suddenly it starts to rain.
Rivers that dried up so long ago, now start to flow again.

From the currents rise those who were long gone; the waters give birth to the slain.
Families line up at the banks to see their kin once again.

The parents bring towels and hugs that never end,
The families open their baskets and have a picnic at the river’s bend.

“I made your favorite dish,” says the mother, “we eat it everyday.”
“We leave a plate for you” the father says, “just in case you come back someday.”

Brothers and sisters, fractions of their former selves, feel whole once again.
“I’ll let you have anything you want! I’ll share! Just don’t leave us ever again!”

Poor children think that they can bargain, but they just can’t make them stay.
Families watch as they leave: the children of yesterday.

The waters that once ran in the rivers, now flow elsewhere.
Hey y’all, in the wake of the recent tragedy we faced and the number of innocent lives lost in the process and also the countless number of children who take their lives everyday, I wrote a poem about how it would be if the children could come back to their parents for one day. Let me know what y’all think.
Sam 4d
Wayward with my sorrows
I no longer search
Burdened by this fate
I no longer fight
Succumbing to this grief
I no longer dream

Caught by her kiss
I grow comatose
Blessed by her embrace
I finally feel at home
Embedded in her heart
I am whole again
In the sea of black
Amongst the wash of tears and the hands held tightly
The memories
Shared by a stranger in a pulpit
Prayers joined in for the occasion
A curious celebration of life
Your best bits
Like Match of the Day highlights.
Evading the times you cried
The times you didn't want anyone around.
Yet here they are - how would you feel?

Outside, the awkward embraces
Of long lost acquaintances
Awkwardly reacquainting
Amongst the tombstones, cursed forever to
Hear the condolences
See the sorrow of strangers
Feel the emptiness.

The hit of grief on the journey home.
Hot tears coursing their path onto the steering wheel.
The relentless regret
Of unspoken truths, lies, compliments and apologies.
But the unfailing, niggling persistence rather to have loved and lost.
And been a few crossed off calendar days.
A passing thought when hearing a song.
A flickering vision through whiskey-blurred eyes.
A small piece of the jigsaw.
I wrote this poem after attending the funeral of my childhood sweetheart. I hate funerals (not sure anyone really likes them).   I hate the surge of grief that hits you and how no-one knows the right thing to say.  This funeral was particularly hard. I'm getting to that age where friends are passing away and it makes me ever grateful for each day and all its prospects and blessings.
Nothing but pure madness
As teachers and students run for their lives
Such a dour situation
Filled with corruption and strife
The mark of evil
Has sadly, reared its ugly head
We need to further enhance the safety of everyone
And be more cautious instead
it sits like november rain on my skin
enough to chill what was once warm inside
at any other time I would have called a friend
asked for the warmth I needed to ward it off
just a little is enough
nnow I just let it come
drop by drop
i feel like it's an ocean falling upon me instead of rain
that the grief of years I carefully suspended
has all condensed right above my head into a cloud
large enough to block the sun
they say it can't rain forever, that there will come a time
when it must cease, that the last drop will have fallen
thing is, i just don't care
i plan to just stay here in the cold, comfortably numb
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