mourning poems

Sugar Maple - A Poem by Roy Pullam - Read Poetry Online by Talented Contemporary Poets

Sugar Maple – A Poem by Roy Pullam

The noble limbs
Had been shelter
For birds and squirrels
The storm claiming
The tree
Helpless in a heap
Pinned to the ground
The leaves waving
A flag of surrender
He worked the pile
The chainsaw
With its aggressive growl
Chewing the wood
One large branch
Then the other
Falling the short distance
To the ground
In a plop
Snatched from its resting place
And put on the flat bed
Of the trailer
Green and brown together
Heading for the decaying mass
The community storm damage
How noble it stood
For fifty years
Shading my kitchen window
In the cold
And the heat
A constant
My leafy place
My quiet place
Where I spent
Many an evenings
Reading a book
Never thinking of the irony
That the fibers
Of the sugar maples
Often made the tracts
My eyes followed
While this one
Was my umbrella
From the evening sun
A stump now
The saw quiet
The last load gone
With just the sadness
For a lost friend

Heal | Parin - Read Poetry Online by Talented Contemporary Poets

Heal | Parin

I think that I’m going crazy,
as all my thoughts are unclear and hazy,
the incident was a nightmare so dark,
that it left on me a permanent mark.

She was my guardian,
she was my best friend,
my mother was one in a trillion,
on whom I could always depend.

No one can ever take her place,
a mother will always hold a special spot in your heart,
even though she’s been gone now for months and days,
yet it feels like this is just the start.

I can’t stop crying,
I see her everywhere,
to reach out to her is what I am trying,
but oh she is not really there.

I feel as if I’m dying from inside,
people all around try to bring me comfort,
but it’s like all the flowers around me have died,
and their comforting words seem to me as useless as the dirt.

I am missing her so much,
it’s beyond my capability to explain,
the memory of my mom’s soft and gentle touch,
is something with me that will always remain.

I am numb,
I feel empty,
weightless such as a falling leaf,
the very leaf that settled on my mother’s grave,
that lies now in front of me.

After all she was my mother,
no one can understand how I feel,
I can lament all summer,
but this is something from which I have to heal.

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