Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Beckie Davies Dec 2020
She is dressed in black with eyes so sad
The funeral procession is marching

She has so many regrets but she cannot go back
The finality is startling

The coffin is laden with poetry and roses
Symbolising romantic connection

She will remember this after he decomposes
This morbidly touching expression

They didn't want to say goodbye
Death didn't give them a choice
She remembers on the day he died
His soft and gentle voice
Do not fret and do not cry
I've loved you and thats enough
It is time to say goodbye
Life was good for I had your love

She is dressed in blue in high heeled shoes
On her first date in three years

His eyes, a brown hue gives her a sense of de ja vu
The reason for this is not quite clear

She feels a trace of shame everytime she says his name
While her wedding ring still sits on her dresser

Yet she can hear her husband's words within a memory preserved
That he'll support her on her every endeavour

She didn't want to move on
He didn't give her a choice
She remembers on the day he died
His soft and gentle voice
Remember to continue smiling
Remember to love again
Long after I leave this life
We will still be friends

She is dressed in white on a warm day in July
The brown eyed man is telling her his vows

It is at this time that she comes to realise
Why his eyes are so familar somehow

They are the exact same shade that got her carried away
By a different man so many years ago

As the groom kisses the bride any remaining grief subsides
Pure joy replacing the dark sorrow

They didn't want to say goodbye
Death didn't give her a choice
She remembers on the day he died
His soft and gentle voice
One day all your grief will end
One day your broken heart will mend
It is time to say goodbye
Until we meet again
until we meet again
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
Not all martyrs meet their gods.
Don't be so quick to die.
There is no glory when blood is spilled,
just widows left to cry.
Talia Nov 2020
Is it sweet
yet like a scorpion tail
Do you really remember
Not to sink but swim?
crimson casualties cascade
delicately down
a cupid’s bow
row row row
yourself in my boat
gently down
this fatalistic dream.
Tragedy bestows the widowed sufferer.
Lustered in the cause of sheer beauty,
forlorn masks are shared generously.
when a widow suffers the remorse of tragedy, they have no choice but to share the same masks of the peers who present their condolences at a funeral.
Sujan Aug 2020
The son of heaven,  erupts with rage,
The south, dare profane my land,
The court tries to appease,
But to no avail.

The emperor's decree,
Bugle the horn and prepare for war!
The granaries full, the armoury filled,
The journey is long.

The soldier,
Kneel, to their parents,
Pray to their gods,
And fly kisses to their love,
Then they march.

Treacherous road, even more the goal,
The entourage proceeds,
Joins the youth, with sickle and hoes,
To their end,
For the love of their land.

South is in sight,
This green plain, todays battleground,
The sun dazzles the land,
As it awaits without care.

The enemy a swarm of yellow,
And ours the mighty black,
The dawn is long,

Close they eyes,
Reminiscence if it's their last,
The tears of mother,
The stern look on my father,
The embrace of love,
And the playful children.

And they march,
The horse gallops,
And within heart blazes a fire,
Of anger and wrath,
For their country.

Clang, the shields raised high,
Roar, the spears pierce deep,
And shine the metallic armour,
And dye the green with red.

The wind bellows,
And With it carries the smell of blood,
The land a shade of green and dark red,
A beautiful red poppy.

The light of day dares not intrude the flower,
Herein lies the true hell, feast upon it,
And see what you create,
The bugle calls the end of war,
But none a soul shouts a victory call

In a serene morning,
A widow, dares interrupt my court,
Within a web of spears,
The widow with eyes of fire,

"His Majesty, Your imperial highness, I hear
Your country won, What about the people?"

hurtlovebug91 May 2020
This I wear
As a widow wears her ring
To never take it off
Never ready to let go

Only Being able to forget for a moment
Living with regret
Living with remorse
Never to fully recover

I wear you to show my love
I will never take you off
I wear you as a widow wears her ring
I wear you my Bracelet
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Shrinking Season
by Michael R. Burch

With every wearying year
the weight of the winter grows
and while the schoolgirl outgrows
her clothes,
the widow disappears
in hers.

Originally published by Angle. Keywords/Tags: schoolgirl, outgrows, clothes, widow, disappears, winter, time, shrinking, season, atrophy, emaciation, bone, loss
Scarlett Oct 2019
My words are but shells of emotion
poorly imitating my thoughts
so why return to poetic devotion
and warmly embrace all I've fought

How do you decipher the incomprehensible
the unfathomable side effects of existence
what god resides here must think me dispensable
may it fear my thrashing and resistance  

these stoic shells have returned presently
and like death they stubbornly prevail
when I fade into the unknown pleasantly
these words shall live on past my last exhale
writing for the first time in a long time... sometimes words do not meet our tragedies, nor do they our triumphs. but they are all we have in a world of sin and insanity
Lady Ravenhill Oct 2019
Lured by her intrigues
They know they are almost caught
In her spider silk
Β©LadyRavenhill 2019
Haiku 119
Next page