Most Liked Loss / Death Poems (1,049)

Stumbling through life with troubled soul ...
heavy hearted
Trying to grasp the softly flickering flame
Before all that's left
of this tallow of hope ...
is the smoldering ember
of a flame left to die.

"O Tina, Our Tina"

What has become of you,
We find you not at home.
Have you been called away
To a better place today?
Are you through with the pain,
To your eternal gain,
In a happier place,
Full of beauty and grace?
We already miss you,
As you probably know.
It won't be the same.
Does the sadness show?
You're in a better place,
At a slower pace.
Your pain is over,
Ours has just begun.
You've finished the race,
And completed the run.
You came in first,
As we knew you would.
Goodbye for now,
We'll see you again.
When God calls us home,
There'll be no pain.
(C) Copyright 2009 Lowell Brandon

For i look at you a man of
age and yet content.
Your legs have failed you
but your mind is strong.
For in your eyes i see the life
you have lived in a glance.
I know that it was a fulfilling
and a happy life that you want
never to end.
You know that must happen to be
with God in heaven.
For he waits for you in glory
your father is there for thee.
Your rewards are there for you
to claim by HIS side.

Frank my Love,
If I should die tonight, I'll see you
in the borderlands
of Now and Then
of Once and Again.

Mystify me, Love
with ovals of colored light,
never seen in the daylight of this world;
Offer me with your slender-fingered open palm,
the swimming grace
of the ocean you now see
that I can not,
and I will gift
the empty chalice of unawakened love
that could not find us in the proper frame
of time or miles unfurled
and I will lift
up high to you the memory of
the gasp and sigh of touch and dreams
where a promise is as fragile as blown glass
and every thing is truly as it seems.

~LCZ

RMS Titanic leaving Southampton




Twas in April nineteen twelve
That she set sail for sea
She was the pride of the White Star Line
The RMS Titanic

The firemen below, shovelled coal
So relentlessly for steam
To power her mighty engines
For to propel her across the sea

From Southampton to New York City
Across the North Atlantic Ocean
Two thousand, two hundred and twenty eight
Aboard, passengers and crew

On the Bridge stood Captain Smith
Surrounded by his officers
Orders given, “Full speed ahead
We’ll push to reach destination”

On the A deck the rich sat
In their cabins most luxurious
Next deck down in restaurant grand
Orchestra played to accompany dining

Down below, in the bowels of ship
There they put the immigrants
Hope in heart, New York bound
To seek a life much better

From bow to stern and all below
They all felt safe, secure
This mighty ship, they were told
Even God could not sink it

It was on April fourteenth
Just four days gone
That the lookout yelled
“There’s ice”

Decision was made to carry on
Full steam straight ahead
Nothing is going to slow us down
New York we’ll reach on time

Twas eleven forty in the night
By the clock on the ship
A mighty shudder ran through her length
As an iceberg she hit

Even then no panic ruled
Was more something of interest
But down below the truth was known
As water flooded her innards

The order was given to abandon ship
First women and children
Unfortunately the sad fact was
There was a shortage of lifeboats

As she slipped beneath the waves
To rest on the bottom
More than half she took with her
One thousand, five hundred and twenty three

A disaster too shocking to comprehend
Never should have taken place
Arrogance to play with life
To think nothing will transpire

Four times I have flatlined with no brain activity and my breathing had ceased. The Bible says" The dead no nothing' That's exactly what I experienced.Thankfully I was resuscitated each time.
On May 5th/2012 I wrote this poem in the recoveryroom after a quad heart by-pass. Two days later I died again.Each experience was for a very short time,the longest being just over 1 minute.The morning after the last experience I had a pacemaker installed.

DEATH ' 101 '

Some people fear the final journey
after lifes last breath.
Could it be instinctive
that we know what preludes death?

Could it be intuitive
we know that judgement looms?
Ethereal guides escorting us
far beyond the tombs.

Can we by precognition
the verdict comprehend?
Cognitive of just rewards
awaiting in the end?

Could it be that lives profane;
the Truth of God they spurn;
Might bring on apprehensive guilt
and feelings of concern?

The truth placates the pilgrims mind,
anxiety is quelled.
Tranquil passing,hope filled dreams,
all qualms of death dispelled.

The grave is but a place of rest
where sleeping mortals lay.
To wait in slumbers sweet repose
'till Ressurection Day.

MARANATHA

The words I heard
Just blew my mind
When the doctor said
“You are pregnant”

For so many years
We tried and failed
Kept up our hopes
But never succeeding

I would look at friends
And see their children
Then ask myself
What is wrong with me

The news I spread
With much excitement
We wanted to share
With the whole wide world

We painted the spare room
Into a nursery
Started to fill it
With all sorts of things

So happy we were
Dreaming all those dreams
Just baby and us
Bright and happy future

The next check up
Straight away I knew
By the look in their eyes
Something tragically wrong

“Anencephaly,” they said
And if that’s not enough
There is also malformation
Severely bent and twisted

The choices they gave
Was to terminate
But should it go full term
It may not live past the hour

Round and round in my mind
The thoughts each other chase
Have I the right to terminate
Or the right to make it suffer

Abortion is for me so wrong
Against it all my life
But could it be to carry on
Something so much worse

At night I prayed
On my knees to God
Answers I was seeking
To show me the way

Finally with many tears
I reached my decision
The best for the baby would be
Not to make it suffer

The pregnancy was terminated
I felt dreadfully empty
Even though I knew it was right
Why did I feel so terrible

Every baby that I see
I ask why could mine not be
Why did this have to happen
Why could things not be

In the nursery I sit at night
Amongst the things we bought
Pain tears my soul apart
And tears soak my blouse

Was about three years later
That I had another chance
Excited yet terrified
How would this time be

It was a girl
Beautiful and perfect
The joy of our life
A blessing to us

Some claim his knowledge came from golden plates,
In Missouri his temple still to be built,
Independence was and still is just empty real estate,
Leaving their scholars with a preponderance of guilt...

For the test of a prophet is for all to see,
Predictions that focus into rays of light,
The truth of the test is told in deuteronomy,
For Joseph Smith "The Vision" faded from our sight...

His "vision" legacy shamed Mountain Meadows in 1857,
Shadowing "the darkest deed of the 19th century."
In Utah the date being September eleven,
Only one man stood trial named John D. Lee...

Brigham Young called it blood atonement for sins of man,
120, men, women and children slaughtered in American west,
Fiery sermon for his people to protect "the promised land."
Coming from high priest, lawgiver and chief polygamist...

Mormons "do your duty" was the battle cry,
Only the youngest children would survive,
Dressed as Indians they caused many to die,
This is still a little known truth to this day many deny.

I look back at those that made a choice to stand for what’s right to raise their voice
They sacrifice was not in vain, it was so others could know love and pain
We take this day each year to remember them; I say take each day and to resemble them
Brave men and women you gave your day so mine would come my way
And for all those that are still out there doing it now, I feel the need to thank you some how
My mere words will never express how you stood tall and passed the test
To choose to fight isn’t a Glorious thing but to stand up for others is a Noble thing
You risk your tomorrow so I can now my joy and sorrow
Please God more time give them to borrow

Attended a funeral today of a friend,
A memorable character right to the end.
Can't imagine him not being 'round any more,
It's hard to believe he'll not be at my door.
I heard at the funeral a story so true
Of an old naval buddy who came to pay due
Who slept on the floor 'side the hospital bed
Until his friend finally was pronounced dead.
The depth of his loyalty just ran so deep
A beautiful tribute forever we'll keep.
R.I.P. Alan