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Poems On / About LOSS  8/5/2015 7:28:04 AM
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Best Poems About / On LOSS
 
 
 
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  37.     

The Loss Of A Father

So now your gone, and all I can do is feels this loss is it for you or for me? For all things we never got to be, you where so wrapped up in you.

Shall I cry like all theses other fakes who's lives you seem to touch? Oh how they didn't know you at all.

You tortured me, for my hole life I shall live in this shadow of you
Never shall I be the girl who had it all because of you.

You gave me poisoned gifts here and there then you disappeared, for half of my life you wasn't there.

So why shall I feel this loss because the dreams of you finely opening your eyes to see what you had all a long is now gone?

It's true there's a hole in my heart where all the creaks lead, and someday I hope this will fade, and the loss of you will go away, until that up coming day when a girl needs her father, then these feelings will shortly follow the loneliness and the sorrow..
 
Lisa Mider

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  38.     

A Sort Of Poem About Fear

Are we all initially driven by FEAR?

Is this negative energy in the form of FEAR necessary in Her grand evolutionary scheme?

Perhaps FEAR is the great catalyst in which LOVE is refined:

FEAR of loss of means is refined to a motivational LOVE to find new, more positive means

FEAR of loss of community is refined to motivational LOVE to build and strengthen community

Fear of God is refined to motivational LOVE to protect and bask in all that IS.

Fear of loss of LOVE is oxymoronic as FEAR is the ABSENCE of LOVE

I am not afraid
 
Goocolbe Questioni

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  39.     

A Tearfull Sorrow

A tearfull sorrow of loss is something that consumes me every other night.
It is not a womany i fancy.
Nor a loss of a meaning.
It is not ghouls & goblins that haunt my every night.
Nor a faboulous life i fancy.
It is not a tumbling fear with a meaning.
Nor a lover that once danced to my every thought.
A tearfull sorrow is the loss of a treasured friend.
 
Beating Tree

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  40.     

The Loss

The Loss

Heinous crime it was
My grandfather said; though
The loss was marginal for the owner.
A sunny morning. My father who
Rides roughshod to his office and
In the office over his subordinates.
Noticed the theft and turned red:
Mouthed curses which, were he a saint,
Would have burnt wherever
The thief was to ashes.
It was the brass nameplate
My father brought from Aligarh.
Now, fifty summers later another loss.
Neither my father who in his old age
Ruminates over his youthful days
Like a priest who savours the memory
Of the sumptuous food offered at the feast
Nor anyone else in the house grieves.
My grandfather (May his soul rest in peace)

What he would have said about the present loss
I cannot think. The loss is not tangible
But substantial. Not one object but many.
Delicate but strong enough to sustain
The name of the entire family. Sad it was
The thief was never identified. Not
Because he eluded but because
The investigators cared not to probe.
Was it a theft? No. Negligence? Maybe.
Wilful indifference, say the experienced elders.
For causes of loss let the wise quarrel
But the loss half-heartedly established
All went busy with their chores as if
The loss was nothing more than
A failure of the monsoon for the politician.
To me, nonetheless, it is a loss
Not easily retrievable as
Substitutes and replacements hard to find.
[For the loss is that of morals and values]
 
AKELLA S. RATNAM

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Poems On / About LOSS