Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Almost two years old-
Almost two years gone-
My Forever Baby,
I will remember you each dawn.
So vivid, in my memory.
So real and alive, in my memory.
My Forever Baby,
My heart remembers you with glee.
Last time I seen you; Goldens'.
Last time I held you; Goldens'.
My Forever Baby,
My love never ends, only begins.
No growing up for you.
No growing old for you.
My Forever Baby,
Tiny and lovely, so true.
My Baby Beth
My Angel Beth
My Forever Baby,
Gone Forever by birth defect death.
You are here Forever Baby.
You are now Forever Baby.
My Angel Beth
My Forever Baby
Love, Your Mommy

1997


COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
I'm so sad, so hurt. I really want you back.
I want to hold you, at least,
just one more time.
You are such a beautiful precious little girl.
I'm so happy your first taste of life
was from my breast milk.
I wish I could have nursed you more often.
I'm glad you knew who I was.
You relaxed more to my voice,
better than anyone else's.
I enjoyed carrying you inside of me.
We were "one" for so long...
I was hoping to be holding you
when you passed away, and I was.
I know you went peacefully in your sleep,
cause I didn't even realize it had happened.
You held onto my finger with such a tight grip;
almost as if you were afraid to let go.
Now I know why...
I'm afraid to let go!
I'll never really get to 'see' you again.
I miss you so much.
I wish you were still alive.
I wish you'd been born healthy, I can't say 'perfect'
cause to me you were, and you still are.
You are gone, but still
my precious little daughter, My Angel Beth~
Love you, Baby Beth
Miss you everyday...
Love, Your Mommy~

Wrote the day I went down to Goldens'
to sign the authorization for cremation
and I held you just one last time...


1995
COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2013
Autumn in New Zealand is a masterpiece on canvas
Patternings of goldens and bright rose hips in their beds,
Copses of coniferous in deep and darkly avenues
To the brilliance of a country lane awash with leafy reds.
Chimney fires are smoking in the rural country cottages
The warming glow of lanterns in the windows as I pass,
A tantalising whiff of hot buttered scones is wafting
And somewhere in the distance I can hear a red deer bark.
Strolling by the lakeside in the early morning stillness
My breathing fogs before me in the chillness of the air,
Rowan trees glow scarlet and the naked ***** willow
Has shed her golden carpet on the emerald hillock there.
Rushes rattle softly in the mistyness of lowlands
Treeeferns in their glory of silver filagree,
Sparrows ruffle feathers to insulate the coolness
As wheeling flocks of starling mass to migrate to be free.
Gossamer as fairy dust the thistledown is floating
A harbinger of autumn leaves and freezing frost to come,
Those Coriollis forces are determining the changeling
Where the snowy days approaching means the Autumn tones are done.


Marshalg
27 April 2013
In rural Pukekohe.
New Zealand
Ritika Mar 2017
Flinging those hairs,
Covered with goldens,
She was strolling
On the flames of hell
Metamorphosing it to
Paradise of love and warmth.
©err1585
john Poignand Dec 2014
When I go to heaven
I want to see my dogs.
all of them, such faithful companions.
How do you say goodby  to such friends
Peter my first
a beagle, stubborn, a hunter with
the basset from across the street
white tipped tail faithfully wagging
as I returned each day from School.
Then Sampson, a blond Belgium Sheppard
Huge, faithful only to me
jumped the fence too many times
of the church pre-school across the street
wanting only to be part of the play
then too protective of our new born and
at 190 pounds too large for our small apartment
Then  found in England,
Beouf Beouf McTavish
a Yorkshire terrier that for some reason was
four times the Yorkey normal size
He thought he was a lion
jumped into the Canal in  Camden town
chasing ducks. We pulled him out and it
took three baths to clean him.
He loved to attack my next door neighbor
after we returned from England
who he had taken a dislike to
as my neighbor warily walked his dachshund
up and down our small cul-de-sac.
Then there was Boober, an Irish setter,
beautiful, but wild and dumb.
who loved to just run and then
pounce on our next door neighbor’s wife
who seemed to love the affection.
Booper true to his Irish temper, never obeyed
Then our Goldens
the perfect pets frolicking with our growing children
Brandy and Blake, the first pair
Brandy the runt of the litter
gentle and loving
so loved by my wife who always loved an underdog.
Blake the larger of the pair
my favorite, large and bold,
constantly bounding about
bullying Brandy
Faster, he got there first when a car didn’t stop
and lay bleeding in my arms
tears cascading down my eyes
too late to save him.
Then Brandy followed when years later
Cancer and she just stopped
She Watched faithfully as
the vet came to the house and peacefully put her down.
we planted a small tree over her grave and mourned.
Last was Maggie, another Golden,
loved by all, beautiful, intelligent,
affectionate, going everywhere with me
to the dump, where they gave her a cookie,
to the beach where she chased ***** until
I became tired and needed to head home, knowingly
she defiantly swam just out of reach, back and forth,
as  try as I might  to get her to come out, she’d defy.
Now there all passed on to doggy heaven where
I hope I’ll find them when I too move on.
they’ll respond to my call
faithfully bounding across a heavenly lawn
returning gleefully  to their aged master.
“Come on blue, You good dog you, I’m coming too”.
Ashley Nov 2013
"I'll be right back",
"See you soon",
"I love you" -
all code words for goodbye.

In a society of easily forgotten,
casually replaced, and faulty
relationships, I am one of them;
one of the ghosts.

Not privileged enough,
not quite as sharp,
nor do I have a fraction of their
glittering, Golden luster.

I fade instead,
floating in and out of view,
opaque in body;
I am naught.

With their gleaming teeth, sharp
wit and poisonous
tongues, you outshine all
in my unseeing eyes.

Through objective eyes, you
are equivalent to the ones I loathe,
and perhaps the Highest
Priest of the Golden.

Just as monstrous,
with poisonous fingertips
injecting my skin by accident,
intent to ****.

For you cause my chills,
and elevate my pulse,
and corrupt my nervous system,
eliciting pure, electric desire.

Maybe I do despise you,
the same as the other Goldens.
I might hate your grin, and
your silky, alluring voice.

Or, maybe, I only pretend -
confusion is the question,
yet your clumsy touches
are the deadly key.
Yanamari Sep 2023
Molten
Running
Hardening
Goldens
Welding
Strengthening
Heat emitting
Steaming whistling
Sinking repetitively
Emerging each time
Lacking that youthful glow
Replaced by the reflection
Of my toil given to me
Losing the heat of the moments
Leaving it all behind
It could only last so long
And here I am
Smoothened by the love only I could
Give me
Inspiration: Welding gold and the heat of youth - (Pers Ref: KTLMA)

Read a past diary entry from several years back - laughed if I'm being honest, the passion of adolescence is lost on me.

This poem I wrote mostly to vocalise the changes I see in myself compared to the past, otherwise the style of this poem isn't something I'd see myself publishing anymore.
Rebecca Jun 2021
Rom and Rem rest together.
Knowing only love.
Loving the woman with no memory.
Softly kissing her folded hands.
Nudging her back to the present.
Nuzzling the neck of the lonely mother
Whose children have left for dreams.
My goldens watch with soft eyes.
Best friends and kindest souls.
Friends for the old black dog who no longer
knows his name.
Gentle dogs, but full of play for
My boy Sunshine when he walks through the door
as golden as them and just as full of play.
Goodbye cold season zephyr ...
Carry your rumors of snow and ice to Carolina ..
Return in the month of May with your Summer bride ..
Signal the release of song filled nights ,
the curious Sun painting the Western sky ,
goldens orbs that compel the boardwalk lights ...
Ambergris filling the air of paradise ..
Copyright January 21 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Nawaz Panhwar Dec 2015
Venus

Angles conspired and rain touched petals,
Women jealous’d and men wished with a sigh,
‘nd, yea’ poetry whispered to music,
She’s arrived, oh yeah! She’s arrived,

Finger touched strings and piano whistled,
Music played and poetry danced,
Oh yeah, poetry danced,
She’s arrived, she’s arrived!

What I admire, help me out,
Oh, I've got it! I must say,
Her beauty is God’s handwriting,
Keep her flying higher than height, deeper than depth,
Her smile holds the time’s beat,
Her eyes when up become sunlight;
when down, become moonlight,
Her hairs goldens the sky, ….ah!!!,
How much I admire, still remains less admired,
Help me out,
Oh please, help me out!

What I admire, help me out
Yes, I must claim!
‘You are beautiful, you are beautiful,
You are beautiful, I swear! You are beautiful,
Listen, angles sing, you are beautiful,

A standing ovation,
Oh yeah, a standing ovation,
Human 's bowed, oh look, angles bowed,
Hands clapped, oh feel, hearts greeted,
She’s arrived, oh yeah! She’s arrived,
A Goddess of beauty ‘s arrived,
Oh yeah, Venus ‘s arrived!
Vasya Jun 2016
A great mystery hides
beneath the stars.
When admired
they seem to glow closer.
They´re often confused with bubbles
on champagne bottles
Swirling around
in yellows and goldens.

They seem to shine
with light of their own,
brighening the sky
for our entire world.

A great mystery hides
beneath the stars.
When I look at them
I can only be reminded
of your eyes.

Every night they sparkle
resembling the twinkling lights,
making me believe
that the mystery lies
not behind the night stars,
but behind the eyes that light up
my every night.
Rebecca Nov 2021
Water poured throughout the house;
You said I put you in the attic;
No rest all night;
I saved the goldens;
I swam to save the best;
You couldn't rest
As I collected the family
Pulling them from the depths
of flooding waters.
Yet we live in the woods.
There is no rain.
No water, only floods of loss
Which we fight each day.
Loss of memory.
Loss of movement.
Loss of employment.
Loss of liberty.
Pouring throughout our home.
Yet we pull each other out
and move to the next level.
Trying to rise above.
Rebecca Dec 2021
Cuddle up tight in a warm blanket;
With pillows surrounding;
Christmas tree blinking at me in the corner;
Fire crackling in the fireplace;
Hot chocolate on the table;
Fun book in my lap;
Not enough of these lazy days.
Kids come through shouting;
Goldens jump up in my lap tipping over cocoa;
This is the chaos that I know.
Time to wrap the gifts, let out the dogs, and treat the kids.
Thoughts of reading tossed aside with my book's lost mark.

— The End —