Poems about death of a lover
John Donne Quotes (Author of The Complete English Poems)
"Your Love Is My Pain by Kyli Santiago -- Spoken Word Poetry
Lost Love Poems
When a friend or family member passes, sometimes the power of words can help you grieve whether you follow a religion or not. Of course the Bible, the Quran, the Talmud, or whatever religious text you believe in can have comforting and honest words for what you are experiencing, but for those who might not belong to a church or other group, there are non-religious poems about losing a loved one that can help. These secular poems can assist you in your private hours as you grieve or they can be meaningful additions to a funeral or memorial service. In a way, if it is hard for you to find the words for celebrating your loved one's life or explain your complicated emotions during this struggle, poets can find the words for you. Whether you've lost your best friend, your mother, your child, or any other close person in your life, there is probably an appropriate poem or text that can encapsulate your emotions.
Prev Poem. And I say this to all those who have lost a much loved boy or girlfriend. It will be 46 years this Read complete story. I closed my eyes.
If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam, And noon should burn, As it has usual done; If birds should build as early, And bees as bustling go, One might depart at option From enterprise below! It make the parting tranquil And keeps the soul serene, That gentlemen so sprightly Conduct the pleasing scene! How wonderful is Death, Death, and his brother Sleep! There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, as though we were drowning inside our hearts, as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul. And there are corpses, feet made of cold and sticky clay, death is inside the bones, like a barking where there are no dogs, coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere, growing in the damp air like tears of rain. Sometimes I see alone coffins under sail, embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair, with bakers who are as white as angels, and pensive young girls married to notary publics, caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead, the river of dark purple, moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death, filled by the sound of death which is silence. Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no throat.