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Poems On / About DAUGHTER  9/2/2014 4:16:04 PM
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  157.     

And She Is Left To Face The End Alone

She's lost the dearest love she has ever known
And now she has to face the end alone
Her only daughter's ashes gone to sea
But of others she doesn't need their sympathy.

A bright and lucid woman for her years
For her dead daughter she has shed many tears
She wept when there was no one there to see
And now of hurtful sorrow she feels free.

She feel glad that she has lived to see another Spring
To hear again the white backed magpie sing
And see the yellow flowers on wattle tree
And hear the grey thrush pipe his melody.

Her daughter's ashes borne miles away
By the sea currents from Port Phillip bay
And Thelma like old soldier soldier on
And all her childhood friends long dead and gone.

A braver or wiser woman I've not known
And she is left to face the end alone
Her only daughter's ashes gone to sea
But of others she doesn't seek their sympathy.
 
Francis Duggan

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  158.     

I Am Not Sorry No She Said

I am not sorry no she said
That my ex son in law is dead
He gave to my daughter a hard life
And she to him was a good wife.

It may seem a callous thing of me to say
That I'm not sorry he's out of the way
For without him my daughter will survive
And in fact I'd like to think she'll thrive.

And though I feel her years with him were wasted years
My daughter sheds her grief in tears
To him she was a good wife and a good friend
And she stayed with him right to the end.

Whatever in him did she see
I find it way far beyond me
For to understand the workings of humanity
For they were different as can be.

She said as for myself I've been lucky in life
Lucky to be a good man's wife
But our daughter good of heart and kind
In love and marriage happiness failed to find.

Her feelings she is not afraid to own
When she said the rudest man that I've ever known
And I am not sorry no she said
That my ex son in law is dead.
 
Francis Duggan

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  159.     

Sunday 3.00pm

A mother lays upon the bed,
Her daughter cradles her sweet head,
A son leans across to clasp her hand,
The other held by her husband,
A yard away, knelt on the floor,
A daughter-in-law cries some more,
The mothers mother is in the hall,
Can't find the strength to face it all,
To stare into the face of death,
To see her daughters final breath.

Me, I stand behind my wife,
Who's still knelt praying for my mums life,
For me, there's no feeling, nothing at all,
I'm somehow detached from it all,
Her breathing's slower now, so slow,
The rattle in her throat seems to go,
Her face is wet from her daughters tears,
End of a life after forty five years.
Her body is still, a lifeless shell,
She goes to heaven, we stay in hell.

If on a journey through my mind,
In every room this picture find,
In every corner of my head,
This painting of my mother, dead.
In oils, on canvas and a big oak frame,
It wasn't my purchase, Cancer's to blame.
 
David Gibbs

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  160.     

My Mother

She was born to a mother who had five sons
and she was the only daughter
The apple of their eyes
She looked very beautiful and was pampered by her brothers,
Father and by the (late) ruler of Gwalior.

She grew up well and became a teacher,
She then fell in love and got married to a handsome dude
and together
They made a handsome couple.
She gave him three lovely daughters
And they lived happily until one day she lost her husband.

She took to the road of hard life
And went abroad to look after her daughters
She looked after them well
And gave them just enough of what they need

The daughters are all happily married
And she has done her duty well
She sits back and relaxes
Until one day we hear that she is no more

She died of a stroke at age of 77
She lived her life thoroughly
And lived it pretty well
May her soul rest in peace
And may the perpetual light shine upon her
Is all that we ask and pray. Amen!
 
Debra Masky

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Poems On / About DAUGHTER