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Post by anirbas on Aug 23, 2006 7:32:25 GMT -6
When tragedy struck us
we were helpless, you and me.
Like scales on a balance
our lives hung precariously.
Between this world and the nether-
I heard your cries!
As we passed one another in The Souls Gulf,
I reached out!
But I couldn't hold you close enough-
to save you...
So you flew with baby angel wings
from here to Heaven's Gate.
And I, wingless and cursed,
remained here, without you
in Hell on Earth.
~Sabrina
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Post by DavidMc on Aug 30, 2006 11:43:36 GMT -6
 This is a beautiful poem. You paint your words with angelic delicacy. redolent of both joy and sorrow. excellent  David |
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Post by anirbas on Aug 31, 2006 7:01:07 GMT -6
Thank you very much, D McC...I like the angel you posted...Thanks for doing that...It goes with my poem quite well. Wish I could figure out how to do pictures with my poems...Note to self-learn how to post pictures with poems...Sabrina.  |
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Post by anirbas on Feb 25, 2007 23:17:09 GMT -6
Born, dead
and buried...
In less than the single
span of a week, seven days...
Twenty-three years ago...
And I still feel as though
I betrayed you, somehow...
Deserved no less, than
to die with you...
Born, dead
and buried...
And yet
in my mind's
eye,
I see you,
at twenty-three...
As you would be...
If I hadn't mistaken myself
for Wonder Woman...
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Post by anna on Feb 26, 2007 0:14:28 GMT -6
Mine would be 36 now--isn't it odd how they grow up in our minds and even stranger how we always blame ourselves.
Love and blessings,
Anna
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Post by vixen on Feb 26, 2007 0:25:20 GMT -6
Stunningly beautiful. Mine would have been 25. Sometimes I have him married with beautiful children. It is so painful to think of them sometimes, but i always have believed that I will see him someday. Such a touching piece, make me cry for our lost children and gives me joy that there are those who understand. Stunning sweetling Always Vixen
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Post by anirbas on Feb 26, 2007 22:48:39 GMT -6
Ladies! A pleasure to find you here. Thanks for sharing thoughts and what you said about the two pieces.
Yes, Anna, odd how each year our lost children age in our "mind's eyes". Odd, and not so odd in some cases, that we blame ourselves for their demise.
Your joy is mine and other's joy, Vix...Though for all our sakes and our lost children, I wish that weren't so...
Ashley Rose would have been 23, February 18th...
February is not a month I deal well with...
At times, I'm not fit for playing with others...
I get bitchie as hell; weepier and whinier
than Dudley Do-Right's Nell;
sensitive as a slug to salt;
and all I seem to think about
is how many ways I can tell
the world to go to hell
as quickly as possible,
so I can follow in their wake
as fast as I can to get to it, myself...
Some people hate September...
Others hate July...Or May or January...
Months they remember as their worst hour
of degradation, failure and shame...
I hate February, starting from December...
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