This latest blog post dedicated to my late aunt Emily who passed away yesterday. Her closest friend in Germany called my mother informing of her passing. As of this writing, the cause of her death are not yet clear as we are still try to get in touch with my cousin online. For now I could only pray that her soul may rest in peace and join our beloved Creator. I would like to share this poem by Chad R. Kornegay entitled Hate to See You Go
HATE TO SEE YOU GO
I love to see you smile,
I hate to see you go,
I wish I was with you
since the first rooster crowed.
You have always been in my heart
even when times were tart.
You have always been #1
even when times weren't fun.
I hope to see you
again one day
I know that you are watching over me
even when skies are gray.
I can still see your face
when I shut my eyes
and all I can think about
is why?
Why did you have to go?
It was all too soon.
I wish you could come back
so I could say "I LOVE YOU!"
Source: Hate Too See You Go, Aunt Poems
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Love
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers
I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you.
I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me;
because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.
by Pablo Neruda
I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you.
I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me;
because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.
by Pablo Neruda
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