Main Page Gallery Audio/Video Candles Condolences Memories Life Story Edit Page Grief Support
Latest Candles
special friendsShare your thoughts!!Fireman's pageThe fireman come thr...Resting place.Poems
 
Family TreeMemorial Book
176437 Create Memorial
Bookmark and Share

 

button
 
Poems

Remembering

by Elizabeth Dent

 

 

Go ahead and mention my child

The one that died, you know'

Don't worry about hurting me futher,

The depth of my pain doesn't show.

Don't worry about making me cry,

I'm already crying inside.

Help me to heal by releasing

The tears that I try to hide.

I'm hurt when you just keep silent,

I'd rather you mention my child,

knowing that he has been missed.

You ask me how I was doing,

I say, "pretty good" or "fine."

But healing is something ongoing,

I feel it will take a lifetime



The Mask

The Mask
 
I feel as if I am buried alive
Yet I smile, and respond
"Fine, thank you."
I have been appropriately conditioned
No one wants to hear the painful   t    r    u    t    h.
An essential part of me, my limb
A constituent of my earthly being
Has been violently amputated.
Yet I laugh at the mediocre conversations
A verbal splash in a shallow puddle
Pretending to be a player of the words
That have no    m    e    a    n    i    n    g.
My heart has been ripped from my bosom
No benevolence granted
No explanation -No apologies

Only cataclysmic   p    a    i    n
Only agony
No anesthesia remains, just the bitter pain.
Yet I wear the    m    a    s    k
Day to Day.
Pretending I fit in
But really I'm a foreigner here
They speak an alien language
I attempt to translate the words

Still, they mean nothing to me.
Sequestered in the mask
They hear not the music I dance to
Nor the words I speak
Nor the pain I echo
Nor the native language of my    e    y    e    s
They will never really know me,
It's only a mask.

 
 

 

 

 

 

Patsy Thomas April 28, 2012
 
Before Friday Night Lights

 

 

BEFORE FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS

Monday lift weights practice and then you don’t feel great.

Tuesday full pads man it’s hot, when its over I’m going to be glad.

Wednesday what a hot and humid day.

Thursday makes me want to say do this another day.

Practice everyday to get to this. Balls flying, people falling, coaches hollering.

This game is more than a game to the class of 2008.

Remember that we are the ones that lost a close friend

that would have made this year great.

Everyday that we go to the field house we think about him,

 and everyday that we leave we don’t leave without saying his name,

 Yes he is that important.

That’s the main reason that a lot of us are playing this game. 

Before and after everything we break it down in his name and when we want to give up,

 Trey says “Remember what we are doing this for boys.” 

even when we get mad at one another and sling each other around like little toys,

 at the end of everyday, every game, every practice, weightlifting and cussing,

 we break it down in nobody else but my boy

CHRISTOPHER NEIL THOMAS’S NAME.

 

Written by

Chris Nash


Pages:: 1  « 1 »
Add text to Poems
  • Sign in or Register