Poetry Trends

Theme: Grief and Loss

The poems about grief and loss that I have been reading are poems of sentiment and meaning. I have tried to select poetry that touches lives in some way or another. For example, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" was written for a dying father, and "For My Mother" reminded me of my own mother's death and how she slept so motionless on her bed. I often wonder if she ever heard the words we spoke to her as hours went by "with each deliberate breath" she took. "Four Years" is about a wife who lost her husband. As hard as I tried not to picture myself in her shoes, I did and of course I got all choked up.

Much of the style is that of a natural sense. It is heartfelt poetry with a variety of famous and not-so-famous writers. The period of time varies from the early 1900's all the way to present modern day time. I once read that "Poetic talent is like the flowing river. And all rivers are natural." (Usman Y. Mobin) This is exactly what I had in mind when searching for poems related to this anthology. I wanted each verse to represent a product of good structure, pattern and style. Since there is such a wide variety on the subject of death, mourning, grief, and loss, I found it hard to stick to a particular style. I wanted to include some of the very old famous pieces as well as some of the modern work. All in all, I feel like the poems all flowed smoothly together, and will touch the heart of the reader. They are all similar in a way that communicates the purpose and theme that I have chosen. My idea is to create a peaceful and calm mood in the reader.

Images that come to mind when reading poems on grief and loss are those of serene and soft scenery. Since watercolor paintings are one of my passions, I chose images to portray the words and meaning of the poems. For example in "While Waiting for Thee" it talks about a date with a butterfly and so I posted a yellow butterfly which also has a special meaning to me. In "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" I posted a water color portrait of Dylan Thomas's(author)boathouse. Soothing background music also would add a special touch as the poems are read.

Because of the faith of so many people, I felt it was necessary to touch on faith and healing. For this reason, I chose the world-wide famous poem, "Footprints in the Sand." For many years, handwritten copies of the poem were distributed by Mary Stevenson, to those who needed something to give them comfort, at a low point in their lives. The beautiful story can be found on the site below. You can hear the sound of the ocean on the next site below.

Source - http://www.footprints-inthe-sand.com/

Background - http://www.footprints-inthe-sand.com/index.php?page=Poem/Poem.php

I hope the selection of these poems will bring hope and encouragement to the family, friends and those who have lost a loved one.



















One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
"You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during
the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one
set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most,
you have not been there for me?"

The Lord replied,
"The times when you have
seen only one set of footprints,
is when I carried you."
Mary Stevenson

http://www.footprints-inthe-sand.com/index.php?page=Poem/Poem.php


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

"Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night," a villanelle composed in 1951, is considered to be among the finest works by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas (1914–1953). Originally published in the journal Botteghe Oscure in 1952, it also appeared as part of the collection In Country Sleep. Written for his dying father, it is one of Thomas's most-quoted works. Wikipedia.org

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-not-go-gentle-into-that-good-night/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlvAW2RIvXo


For My Mother

When does the soul leave the body?
Since early morning you have not moved -
only your head moves, thrown back
with each deliberate breath,
the one sound that matters in the room.
My brother is here, my sister,
two of your sisters, ripples
widening from the bed.
The nurses check and measure,
keeping the many records.

Are you afraid?
Are you dreaming of what is past, lost,
or is this sleep some other preparation?
My sister has put your rings
on my finger; it seems like your hand
stroking the white brow,
unable to release you,
not even after you have asked for death -

And we know nothing about such pain,
except that it has weaned you from us,
and from the reedy, rusted
sunflowers outside the window,
dropping over the snow like tongueless bells.

Ellen Bryant Voigt
Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times (2002), ed. Neil Astley


Four years

The smell of him went soon
from all his shirts.
I sent them for jumble,
and the sweaters and suits.
The shoes
held more of him; he was printed
into his shoes. I did not burn
or throw or give them away.
Time has denatured them now.

Nothing left.
There will never be
a hair of his in a comb.
But I want to believe
that in the shifting housedust
minute presences still drift:
an eyelash,
a hard crescent cut from a fingernail,
that sometimes
between the folds of a curtain
or the covers of a book
I touch
a flake of his skin.

--Pamela Johnson Gillilan (1918-2001)
Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times (2002), ed. Neil Astley


While Waiting for Thee

Don't weep at my grave,
For I am not there,
I've a date with a butterfly
To dance in the air.
I'll be singing in the sunshine,
Wild and free,
Playing tag with the wind,
While I'm waiting for thee.
The Comfort and Sweetness of Peace
After the clouds, the sunshine,
after the winter, the spring,
after the shower, the rainbow,
for life is a changeable thing.
After the night, the morning,
bidding all darkness cease,
after life's cares and sorrows,
the comfort and sweetness of peace.
Helen Steiner Rice

http://www.elegantmemorials.com