When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die.
Ray BradburyTag: fear death dying fear-of-dying
Don't we all hope to die with a smile on our faces?
Jeff O'BrienTag: death irony dying humor-irony-death-zombie
Is it really worth dying for the person you love?”
[Maureen] thinks about this for a moment. “That’s not the real question, Oliver. What you should be asking is, Can you live without her?
Tag: love values dying oliver maureen between-the-lines
blue-gold sky, fresh cloud,
emerald-black mountain, trees
on rocky ledges,
on the summit, the tiny pin
of a telephone tower-all
brilliantly clear,
in shadow and out.
and on and through
everything
everywhere
the sun shines
without reservation (p. 97)
Tag: love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying mother grief conflict healing dying poems daughters verse memoirs cancer son death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother alchoholism death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son grievindeath-and-daughters new-york-quarterly verses
...gripping the
rim of the sink
you claw your
way to stand
and cling there,
quaking with
will, on
heron legs,
and still the hot
muck pours
out of you. (p. 27)
Tag: life love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying memoir mother grief conflict mountains healing new-york dying poems daughters verse memoirs alcoholism cancer son grieving death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son new-york-quarterly verses death-and-daughters dying-at-home verse-memoir
I could simply
kill you now,
get it over with,
who would
know the difference?
I could easily
kick you in, stove you
under, for all those times,
mean on gin,
you rammed words
into my belly. (p. 52)
Tag: life love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying memoir mother grief conflict soul-searching mountains healing new-york dying poems daughters letting-go verse memoirs alcoholism cancer son grieving death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness love-and-hate grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son new-york-quarterly verses death-and-daughters dying-at-home verse-memoir
oh.
she heard it
too-no waters
coursing, canyon
empty, sun
soundless-
and the beast
your life
nowhere
hiding (p. 103)
Tag: life love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying memoir mother grief conflict soul-searching mountains healing new-york dying poems daughters letting-go verse memoirs alcoholism cancer son grieving death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness love-and-hate grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son new-york-quarterly verses death-and-daughters dying-at-home verse-memoir
I don't want to be dying. I want to be dead.
Girl234When the little mouse, which was loved as none other was in the mouse-world, got into a trap one night and with a shrill scream forfeited its life for the sight of the bacon, all the mice in the district, in their holes were overcome by trembling and shaking; with eyes blinking uncontrollably they gazed at each other one by one, while their tails scraped the ground busily and senselessly. Then they came out, hesitantly, pushing one another, all drawn towards the scene of death. There it lay, the dear little mouse, its neck caught in the deadly iron, the little pink legs drawn up, and now stiff the feeble body that would so well have deserved a scrap of bacon.
The parents stood beside it and eyed their child's remains.
Tag: death dying mice mouse kafka
Am I ever angry or frustrated? I only feel angry sometimes when I see waste, when things that we waste are what people need, things that would save them from dying. Frustrated? No, never.
Mother TeresaTag: compassion poverty frustration anger need waste dying sharing angry frustrated
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