Grief Poems
The Ballad Of Father Gilligan
by William Butler Yeats
The old priest Peter Gilligan
Was weary night and day
For half his flock were in their beds
Or under green sods lay.
Once, while he nodded in a chair
At the moth-hour of the eve
Another poor man sent for him,
And he began to grieve.
......
Duino Elegies: The First Elegy
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
The Toys
by Coventry Patmore
My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes
And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,
Having my law the seventh time disobey'd,
I struck him, and dismiss'd
With hard words and unkiss'd,
—His Mother, who was patient, being dead.
Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,
I visited his bed,
But found him slumbering deep,
With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet
......
Home Burial
by Robert Frost
He saw her from the bottom of the stairs
Before she saw him. She was starting down,
Looking back over her shoulder at some fear.
She took a doubtful step and then undid it
To raise herself and look again. He spoke
Advancing toward her: "What is it you see
From up there always? -- for I want to know."
She turned and sank upon her skirts at that,
And her face changed from terrified to dull.
He said to gain time: "What is it you see?"
......
Elegy X
by Rainer Maria Rilke
That some day, emerging at last from the terrifying vision
I may burst into jubilant praise to assenting angels!
That of the clear-struck keys of the heart not one may fail
to sound because of a loose, doubtful or broken string!
That my streaming countenance may make me more resplendent
That my humble weeping change into blossoms.
Oh, how will you then, nights of suffering, be remembered
with love. Why did I not kneel more fervently, disconsolate
sisters, more bendingly kneel to receive you, more loosely
surrender myself to your loosened hair? We, squanderers of
......
Grief
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
I remember the grief in Samuel
when Saul failed,
like the grief in Nile
when blood crept into it —
just like it creeps into the bones of
this earth.
The rage in grief is distant but distinct,
escorted by bits of frozen nuts
and wizened grains of desert sand,
......
Gone Are the Days
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
I look back to the halcyon days
When Mrs Johnson,
A comely widow, ran fruitful
Errands for the new railway, and for
Our undeveloped district.
A frail, little maid in green cardigan
And sable wool hat for new mourners,
She read the New Testament
With zest, from Matthew to Revelation.
And she battled with the stress of inheritance
......
America Mourns (A Lament for Our People)
by Jim Kelly
America Mourns (A Lament for Our People)
Beneath the vast skies, where freedom was born,
Echoes a sorrow, weary and worn.
Fields once fertile, now shadowed with grief,
Hearts heavy with memories, fragile and brief.
The rivers that carved our hopes so wide,
Now carry whispers of tears we’ve cried.
Mountains stand silent, witnesses to pain,
......
Dirge of the Last Lap
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
I
The loud, cruel laughter of dirge
besieges us so greatly in the face of
wanton humiliation.
It comes mightily, crashing our aged
city walls, unearthing the foundations of
churches,
tolling bells in pulsated grief . . .
......
Ink Depleted, Love Remains
by Aditi Hayaran
The colour I always picked was you,
Making everything gorgeous—
that's your hue
That was consuming fast.
In my book, you,
the colour which dominates the vast.
Never knew,
the ink was getting low and low,
The marker was getting faint and slow.
......
