Not one of us will pass through life without being touched by death and grieving. Initially, I had only a handful of poems about death and losing loved ones and did not feel a specific category on that topic was necessary for this website. Sadly, after losing my youngest son in 2018, that has changed. This new topic includes 40 poems about death and grieving, written as part of my own grieving process. I hope this category will make it easier for other bereaved parents to find and use them as part of their own healing. My poems about death are here for non-commercial purposes only. Please include full copyright information on every copy, emailing a request for permission before using. For internet use, a link back to this site is required. May peace and comfort be yours on this difficult path.
FINDING THE POEM YOU WANT: As you scroll through this section, simply read each snippet sample (usually the first four lines) to get a feel for the poem. When you find something you like, click “CONTINUE READING” to view the entire poem.
New Year’s Eve, and a wave of grief
carries me back in time,
back to the days when the air was sweet
and the fruit was on the vine.
The skies were blue; the skies were gray,
but what I loved was mine,
back in the days when the air was sweet
and the fruit was on the vine.
I live in a place where the sun shines bright,
and the mountains meet up with the sea;
but it hurts my heart to have you gone,
and I wish you were still here with me.
I thought the holidays would be
a time of grief and misery,
a stark reminder of our loss,
a multiplying of the cost.
I’m hungry for the sight of you;
the shades, both dark and light of you.
The way you held yourself, your smile
(gone missing for too long a while).
I miss you in this world. You’re gone
before my heart was ready.
(Though readiness was not on the horizon.)
The boy in you lives on in me.
I hold close every memory
of soft blue eyes and thoughtful gaze
and all your cute, endearing ways.
Sometimes, my brain works overtime,
hell-bent to redesign the past.
What if… If only… Why… Why not…
a litany of grief miscast.
What do others see
who look at me
I am cracked pot
bird with broken wing
severed vine
unwilling shrine