~Samwise Gamgee~ "I know now, folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding onto something."
This is a poem that I wrote and it was read at my Grandmother's funeral. A bit sad...so it fits in this category.
A Soul’s Journey Beyond The Earth by: (S. Stewart)
Death is not the end. Yet, another path in life, One that we all must take at the appointed time. At death we are suffering because we know we are going to die, but when we die and our soul sees the gray shadow of this world fade away and approaches the bright shining silver-gold light in the sky it feels the strong ever-lasting rapture coming out of the source of the light like soft sunrays coming out from behind a cloud. Then the soul shall see it! Heaven in all of it’s glory. A great white sea, a far great green countryside, a city of gold, and a sky of the deepest blue you have ever seen. There is always light, a wonderful Heavenly glow, coming from the Father’s throne itself. The soul is greeted by Jesus himself and taken to the Heavenly court. The soul meets Jesus’ Mother and all of the Saints and, also, their relatives and friends that have already passed from this Earth. At this point the soul is feeling so much joy that it never could have gotten on this Earth. There is no suffering there, nor hunger, nor thirst. Life there is eternal. No death, no mourning, no sorrow. Only joy. The joy of meeting Jesus and having peace at last from all the cares of this world. You may mourn and weep at the death of the one you love, yet you must realize that a soul never dies. A body grows old and decays, yet a soul, though it may mature over the years, never decays. It stays strong through the trials here on Earth. And receives the ultimate gift in Heaven. Peace.
The day my Grandmother died I felt the shock and horror of the knowledge that I would never get to see her on Earth, nor hug her again. The shock was so powerful that I couldn’t cry a first. Then when I thought about losing a my Grandma, I thought about the part of me that I lost just then. The part of me that knew I would be able to see my Grandma again the next day. I thought about the great times we’d had the laughter we‘d shared. My Grandmother would always have a smile on, no matter how bad she was feeling. You could talk to her about any subject and she would be interested. She would talk for hours if she could, and tell the most funny and interesting stories. My Dad can tell you the one about the worms, if you haven’t heard that one already. Her personality was so engaging if you were to talk to her you would catch her excitement instantly. She had a great love for flowers and she would always have some, from curtains to hanging plants. Her personality was ever blossoming, even until the last time I saw her. She had her mind set on living, and held out longer than anyone probably could have in the situation she was in. She had a great love for her Grandchildren and Great Grandchildren. And an even greater love for her children, if you couldn’t tell by talking to her. I know she is happy in heaven now and she is at peace. I feel like I’ve lost her, but I’m happy for her as well because she is now with Jesus and my Grandfather. So I’d like to say thank you so much for your love, Grandma. I love you!
~Samwise Gamgee~ "I know now, folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding onto something."
~Samwise Gamgee~ "I know now, folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding onto something."
Joined: Jul 2005 Gender: Female Posts: 1,118 Location: With Tre Karma: 4
Re: Emotional Poems « Reply #3 on Aug 4, 2005, 4:24pm »
There's a scar apon my forhead, long and deep so all can see the pain and sorrow deep inside that's long been plauging me. This is a cold world without anyone there all who ever walk beside me run and don't care. I wish someone could help me run and get away but it looks as though this fear inside might be here to stay. -Cate Stewart (my pen name.) [This is my poem that's going to be published in the Poetry.com book.]
~Samwise Gamgee~ "I know now, folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding onto something."
He Loved Me .:a poem written in the POV of my character, Itarille Ellie after losing her first love:.
I walk Stumbling through the brambles The bushes The trees Towards my ship in the distance Every step I take Every breath I breathe I can hardly tell. I am distant; lost in a far off world My mind still back in that Dark Sinister Ashen place The place that took him from me I hardly knew his name Why he said what he said But all I know is His words were true There was no lie in his eyes And what he said He meant it.
“I love you…”
That was it. And now he’s gone To a place I cannot follow I did not know him Not too well I wish I did But then letting go would have hurt More than it does now
I blink Snapping out of my thoughts I’m on my ship I hardly noticed My thoughts were wandering upon an unnamed path I focus upon my brother His hands grip my shoulders Deep green eyes clouded with concern His mouth moves He asks if I am alright I try to answer No sound comes out I cannot reply The grief is still too near I can hardly speak Alas I must lie I shake my head Feign a smile But we both know nothing is alright How could it be? He’s gone.
And He loved me He said he did I did not know him And now that will haunt me He meant it Every word With each breath he took And with his last; He meant what he said I hardly knew him So why does it feel that my heart is ripped in two?
He said he loved me From the moment he met me I cannot recall Remember This dark stranger who is beyond my reach Have we met? I know not... And it pains me
He said he loved me I do not know him Now I wish I did Now I’ll never see him
The man who said he loved me The man who fought for me The man who stood at my side He said he loved me
But
I cannot say I love him I did not know him But he knew me; My name. Did I know his?
A tear runs down my cheek, Just at the thought of his voice... All I know is that he was a friend For a little while.
On the corner of 22nd You sit in your house all day Bound up in your thoughts Oh, Lord he hates to pray Your memories take you back They haunt you in your dreams Anxiety attacks And prescriptions you don't need Your face sweats Your knees shake Your hands get cold Oh, You feel like your gonna break But why! Why can’t you see That the world wants you to breath And I; I need you here With me Now Put away that knife and throw out that needle Accept life and live it to the fullest You say you hate yourself You say there's no reason for liven you say you don;t need help your fine on your own You used to make me laugh but now you make me cry just watching you take all the blame and all the pain inside your like a child that just came in from the rain who shivers and cowers in the corner again i never see your face behind the shadow i never see your smile behind this sadness its hard to believe that you were once happy that you once had a life before this age of death your face sweats your knees shake your hands get cold oh, you feel like your gonna break by why! Why cant you see that the world wants you to breath and I; i need you here with me but you just let the tears fall let the blood drip push the pills down push the needle in thats all you need but i need you and without you and without me well both be incomplete (unrevised)
this one i found by Maya Angelou ... By: Maya Angelou
When I say.. "I am a Christian" I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin." I'm whispering "I was lost," Now I'm found and forgiven.
When I say..."I am a Christian" I don't speak of this with pride. I'm confessing that I stumble and need CHRIST to be my guide.
When I say... "I am a Christian" I'm not trying to be strong. I'm professing that I'm weak and need HIS strength to carry on.
When I say... "I am a Christian" I'm not bragging of success. I'm admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess.
When I say... "I am a Christian" I'm not claiming to be perfect, My flaws are far too visible but, God believes I am worth it.
When I say... "I am a Christian" I still feel the sting of pain, I have my share of heartaches So I call upon His name.
When I say... "I am a Christian" I'm not holier than thou, I'm just a simple sinner who received God's good grace, somehow
now i have some really gross ones that may seem really morbid...but thats cause my friends and i were coming up with morbid poems to see whos were worse... if you want some just ask...
heres a clean one i wrote Toy Soldiers
He used to play with toy soldiers I keep them in a chest under my bed With the boxes of photos He would make them march and fight I used to watch, silently Sometimes I take them out and touch their wooden faces, their hand painted smiles I remember his smile, his award-winning smile Their velvet coats and leather boots He always bugged mom to buy him a soldier outfit and gun It’s strange to think that he’s out there now, risking his life for a childhood dream to be granted He got that soldier suit he wanted, a buzz cut and a gun Oh, when I touch their hands I can feel the warmth of his brotherly hugs His strong hands and I see his beautiful blue eyes… I stare at those warriors with longing… Longing to see him again Knowing he is marching just like those toy soldiers, his gun at ready He used to play war in the backyard with the neighborhood boys I would watch from the window Little did they know what war would bring, when they wished on that falling star His letters come in the mail I live for those letters Stored in my secret drawer I read them over and over Kids at school whisper and gossip But I don’t care; all I care is that I get those letters That they keep coming until he comes home with them I sit on his bed, taking in the essence People think I’m in denial They say I sleep in his room and pretend he is home They say I talk to “him” I smell his pillows I wear his clothes I read his books I play his records The mailman knows me by name He is sick of me asking for letters There’s only one letter I dread and it sits on the counter now As I go on a killing spree My tears stream down as I smash those toy soldiers It’s all their fault I save only one… It rests against his cold grey stone His picture hangs around my bowed neck Right by my broken heart I keep a box with his smashed soldiers inside His medals hang in our room They tried to put the baby in his room but I took it first His flag lies on our bed I visit that poor soldier It rests against his cold grey stone now… In peace with his childhood memories… Those toy soldiers…
~Samwise Gamgee~ "I know now, folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding onto something."
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