I thought you’d eventually give it up. I never said I would. I thought you’d move past it or through it I never said I could.
- Home
- |
- Tag: Death
Poem: A Tiny Wooden Table NaPoWriMo #06
A tiny wooden table With a crocheted doily That fit the round top I took it home After she died I thought it would comfort me When I
Gifts from Gma: Letting go of stuff
“Gma” is the nickname my kids gave to my mom. Some of us kids have been posting announcements on the caring site we set up for her. Here’s
Eulogy to my mom: The Most Important Thing
My mom passed away at age 89 on October 8, 2016. Four days later, on my birthday, I was one of the family that spoke. Here’s my eulogy:
Poem: Rub My Back
A wife loses her better half A son loses his dad Side by side, smiling Talking with visitors Every once in awhile Strong hands on mom’s shoulders Slow
Poem: Did I Imagine it All?
The horizon A jagged silhouette Clouds sloshing across the sky Pulled with a comb, dripping Sherbert BonfireStrawberry swatches Oak leaves that melt Into infinity Color fades Leaving only
Poem: Oreo
Silly ragamuffin Black and white hair Flopping over your blue eyes Your warm sweet stare Light and bright Greeting me at the door Wagging your tail Every time
Poem: A Brush with Death
A rush A threat A brush With death Life is A brush with death Dipped in colors Splatted and dotted Broad strokes Strong lines Soft washes Life A
Poem: Unniversary …a Haiku
Unniversary The date, oh wait, no longer Grief strong, love stronger
Poem: His Laugh …a Haiku about death
When we think of him We just can’t stay sad too long His laugh forces smiles — About the poem: In October, a longtime friend died. He was a joker.