Grief Poems

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
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My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.
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Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding.
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To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
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It may be misery not to sing at all,
And to go silent through the brimming day;
It may be misery never to be loved,
But deeper griefs than these beset the way.
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When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
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Calm is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass,
Is cropping audibly his later meal:
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Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.
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How great my grief, my joys how few,
Since first it was my fate to know thee!
- Have the slow years not brought to view
How great my grief, my joys how few,
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O World! O Life! O Time!
On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before;
When will return the glory of your prime?
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Today…some thoughts on grief because I am of the belief
just as life can give us joy…we can't escape its grief.

When we lose someone we love…life will never be the same it was before.
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TUNE: Chou Nu Er "Ugly Boy-Servant"/
Cai Sang Zi "Picking Mulberries"
TITLE: "Written on a Wall on the Way to Boshan"
- by Xin Qiji (1140-1207)
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Her grief fell from the balcony and broke into pieces, so she needed a new grief. When I went with her to the market the prices were unreal, so I advised her to buy a used grief. We found one in excellent condition although it was a bit big. As the vendor told us, it belonged to a young poet who had killed himself the previous summer. She liked this grief so we decided to take it. We argued with the vendor over the price and he said he'd give us an angst dating from the sixties as a free gift if we bought the grief. We agreed, and I was happy with this unexpected angst. She sensed this and said ‘It's yours'. I took it and put it in my bag and we went off. In the evening I remembered it and took it out of the bag and examined it closely. It was high quality and in excellent condition despite half a century of use. The vendor must have been unaware of its value otherwise he wouldn't have given it to us in exchange for buying a young poet's low quality grief. The thing that pleased me most about it was that it was existentialist angst, meticulously crafted and containing details of extraordinary subtlety and beauty. It must have belonged to an intellectual with encyclopedic knowledge or a former prisoner. I began to use it and insomnia became my constant companion. I became an enthusiastic supporter of peace negotiations and stopped visiting relatives. There were increasing numbers of memoirs in my bookshelves and I no longer voiced my opinion, except on rare occasions. Human beings became more precious to me than nations and I began to feel a general ennui, but what I noticed most was that I had become a poet.
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Baance se bhaD kar
koi bhi hari cheez
aagay nahin upjati
...

Better You Forget Me (In three Parts)by Ehsan Elahi Ehsan
Better You Forget Me Part-1
by
Ehsan Elahi Ehsan
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Grief not, grief not, dear friend,
For the death of the father.
Death has no power to touch the Father, remember.
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Annoyed with grief, yet not letting go of her dead body.

I still remember that rainy evening in the emergency room, seeing her
supine, anxiously watching doctors and nurses, then caught sight of me
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Inspired by a poem by Pamela Sinicrope

I
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Human needs to share other's grief,
Grief in human life is natural,
But need to divert towards the peace,
Where diverting towards the peace needs practice.
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The Hue of Grief
Red, sharp, searing
my being
it's hot, bitter, salty taste,
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