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alex 3d
Does it though?
because friends
have never
belittled or
cut me down
quite like you have.

Nobody has ever made me
want to jump off the edge
from pain and hurt,
yet still scream words of gratitude,
because I know
how much
you sacrificed
for me.

You may not have been perfect,
but it’s everybody’s first time
at life
and I know
even if everybody
leaves my side
you’ll still be there
because blood
runs thicker
than water.
They know how to push you down—and how to pull you back up stronger
Steve Page May 14
She'd said
she'd buy the flowers herself.
She knew what to get.
She'd found a reliable florist.
And she had the time
to select the perfect arrangement.

That's what the Funeral Director
told us at the Co-op.

And on the day, we all agreed -
the flowers were lovely.
And no one was left
in any doubt -
she'd have loved them.
Credit to Virginia Woolfs novel, Mrs Dalloway.
I took the first line, tweaked and re-purposed it.
Maria Apr 18
Mum, my sweetheart, I’m tired.
Do you believe or not?

It’s like my legs are broken under
Or maybe they’re gone for short.

My head is being torn apart
By different odd thoughts.

And I can’t, I can't stop thinking.
Fears are around. More mots.

I ***** up my eyes firmly.
I instantly stop my ears.

And I’m silent again, silent again
As if there’re no dread and fears.

Mum, my sweetheart, I’m tired!
I don’t want being afraid to live!

I’m so tired mum! I’m really tired!
There’re too much atrocities.
It’s true, not a myth.

Just little bells,
Ding-****, ding-****,
Are chirping sweet sounds.
How nice is their song.

There’s not a bit truth
In that saccharine ‘re-fa-la’.
But there won't be nothing else.
We can’t live without lie.
Thank you very much for reading this poem! It's particularly personal, inside out, painful... 🙏
Lizzie Bevis Apr 1
Much like passing seasons,
mild crisp autumns
greet cold winters
as time silvered
her once auburn hair,
yet, within her caring gaze,
that cheerful spark
is often there.

Her hands once always busy,
are now gentle and thin,
her fingers have stiffened
but, they still harbour
strength deep within,
and in a way, it is sublime,
how they lifted, guided,
and carried me over time.

I look at her tiny frame,
as age mapped out the miles
of her life-long journey
around her knowing smile,
and kind eyes.
Some things never change,
like her wise
steely grey-blue eyes,
reminding me of the sky
when rain softly falls.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Maria Mar 21
I'm so tired, Mum,
Of tackling a lot all the while,
Of hiding my nerves into a ring-mail,
Of running away all the time.

I'm so tired, Mum!
There're so much lies around!
It's so scary, I'm starting to feel
That I'm falling down.

I'm so tired, Mum!
It's so unfair! I can't even weep.
Fluff my pillow like for a kid, Mum.
I deathly want to sleep.
Steve Page Mar 7
I aspire to the ambition of a mother:
lifelong and untiring. 
Ambition to realise her passion: 
Serving and providing
love without ration.

I aspire to the love of a mother:
teaching and persisting
with no reflection on reward,
but for the pleasure of pursuing
a calling she can’t ignore.

She aspires to serve God’s children 
entrusted to her caring. 
Until united with Him 
after a life of faithful praying,
with lives better lived 
for loving and knowing her.
Mothers Day in the UK is 30 March.
Immortality Mar 10
Some say,
love is a curse.
Some say,
love is a blessing.

For me,
it's a spark in the dark,
reason to rise,
and be alive.
Love don't need to be just romantic....
Familial love is beautiful and pure too...
Jill Aug 2024
We wait outside long closed electric doors

    
        At last, you take my hand, you cloud-float up
        
            Hospital gown draped over a balloon

                Oxygen mask string dangles, now relaxed

                    Its work is over, I still hold your hand

                        My heels lift slightly, I still hold your hand

                            I can’t come with you; time for letting go,

                                We smile, you float -- drip, tape, and bandage free


My toes have never left their asphalt base

My dearest dream,
    and
        I still feel your hand
©2024
amber Jan 2024
Throughout the process
My body takes a hit
I grip my thighs, look into my eyes
I don’t recognise it one bit

I grab my loose stomach and
Flinch at the tender touch
I run my fingers slowly through my hair
It’s too fragile for a brush

Milk soaked shirts and
Blood stained shorts
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve cried
Just by exploring my thoughts

They keep pestering me over and over
“How do you feel?
There are resources to make you feel okay”
I tell them “I ’m just trying to survive the day”

Throughout the process
My mind takes a hit
I grip onto my mind, my thoughts send shivers down my spine
I don’t recognise myself one bit
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