What Is The Theme Of A Poem For My Brother

As soon as my eyes woke up to the bitter cold of the night and stars covered by black blanket of clouds, I knew that this was it. I had tried to prepare myself that day, but I was at school when it happened. The moment the intercom came over the classroom, “Hailey Wooldridge needs to come the office, her mom is here to check her out,” my heart stopped. I was able to make it to the office without losing my composure, but as soon as my eyes met my mom standing there with tears in hers I lost it. Right there standing in the school office, the food gates of heaven opened up in my eyes and I could not stop the rivers from flowing. My best friend since kindergarten had died. All the planning of moving in together when we went to college was down the drain. The late nights of watching horribly filmed scary movies was done. My heart was broken, and the pieces are still not taped together properly. Two days later was her funeral. Her mother had asked me to say a couple of words about her during the service, but the thought of standing next to her lifeless body talking about her and not to her made everything seem surreal. By the power of prayer and numerous amounts of tears, I stood up from my seat and walked lifelessly to the podium that viewed hundreds of people waiting to see what I had to say. I do not know how I got through that speech without hysterically crying, but somehow, I talked like I was having a conversation with Serra once again. In front of me, I

After these past few heartbreaking days, I can certainly relate to James Weldon Johnson’s “Go Down, Death”. The second stanza says, “God was looking down from his great, high heaven, Looking down on all his children, And his eye fell on Sister Caroline, Tossing on her bed of pain. And God’s big heart was touched with pity, With everlasting pity.” I relate to this because I think that’s exactly what happened with Karen. He saw how much she had already fought and He knew that after all the pain she had been in that she deserved to go without a struggle. Johnson says in stanza five, “She’s borne the burden and heat of the day, She’s labored long in my vineyard, And she’s tired-- She’s weary-- Go down, Death, and bring her to me.” Karen was one

I stood on the porch just thinking about my mother, oh how I miss my mother. If I could just see her one more time I would have so much to tell her. All I have left was my sister and my father, I'm just thinking about how much love I need to show them; because no one knows how much time we have left her on the earth. At the time, looking back on my mother and all she did for me, I honestly believe that she was the only person in my life that gave me joy and happiness. During the war the only thing I could ever thing of, the only thing that keep me sane was my mother. While being sorrowful on the porch, the door opens and I see my sister standing there crying. She runs at me a leaps into my arms crying, she tells me “its been to long brother”. I tell her that crying will only make me cry. At that moment my father walks throw the door and gives both my sister and I the biggest most immense hug. After maybe ten minutes of hugging the the porch we head inside and I got to take a shower and get ice for my head trying to relieve the

September 27th 2009. I was on my dad’s weekend and my mom was in the hospital for a weeks. I would visit her every day and sometimes bring her flowers. But on september 27th I woke up and walked into my living room and my dad was sitting on the couch looking sad. I asked what was wrong and then a knock was heard on the door it was my step dad and half brother. My step dad had puffy eyes he was crying. He told me to sit down and my brother came out and sat next to me. My dad looked at us and he spoke up your mother had just passed this morning. I was shocked I was hurt I was scared.I didn’t know if i should cry or run away. I’ve learned that losing someone you love is tough.

I’d be eating dinner or watching TV or reading her a book and all I wanted was for you to walk in the door. But you never did and I lived the life of a single dad for two years. It wasn’t a life I had hoped for, but it was the life I had. It’s a life that I could continue living, but I don’t want to do that anymore. So, when I saw the papers, I knew it was time to come find you.”

Love and Loss John Green once wrote, “you can love someone so much...but you can never love people as much as you can miss them.” The poems “Annabelle Lee,” by Edgar Allen Poe, and “Do not go gentle into that good night,” by Dylan Thomas, both expose the overall theme of the negative effects of love and loss. Thomas and Poe illustrate the effects of how a love binding relationship, broken by loss, leaves a tragic mark on the human experience. The effects of the loss of a loved one cause the characters in these poems to feel extraordinary grief, a sense of loneliness, and a powerful feeling of anger. The experience of loss in a relationship bound by love causes the characters in the poems to feel an extraordinary amount of grief, leaving

There is nothing like tragedy to teach you about life. When you’re shown how fragile life is, you tend to appreciate it more. As so many have said, you don’t know how good something is, until it’s gone. But my mother is still here. How can I grieve for somebody who is still alive, who I see daily? Well, I am grieving for the mother I lost. About four years ago, my mother got into a car crash one Sunday morning, after dropping my eldest sibling off at work. After that, my family was never the same. My mother’s car crash and the resulting trauma led me to realize how mortality is lurking behind the scenes of our everyday lives, just waiting for us to slip up or age out of living.

My mother mourns privately and I join her for the first time in a long time, longing for things to have been different. I find myself desperately seeking the warmth and comfort I’ve always found in my family. I find myself desperately seeking the warmth and comfort I’ve always found in my true family. The family that has always been there and shown support. I no longer see the heavy, sleek-cut stone as ancient memories rush into my now-clouded vision. I’m not going to forget you or leave you. I’ll be loyal to you and your memory. I don’t want to be like him.

My aunt walked in my back door, no knock, no greeting other than the sound of her purse hitting my counter as she set it down. The air was heavy, our hearts were heavy, and every sound seemed louder than it was, magnified by our collective silence. She looked exhausted and defeated, far from the fierce, strong, woman with which I was familiar. She joined me on the couch and we sat on opposite ends, not touching, not speaking. Suddenly, she let out a sob, breaking the silence and pulling me out of my own mind. Instinctively, I reached for her and pulled her close while she sobbed into my shoulder, her tears soaking through my t-shirt. Her voice, muffled by the fabric and thick with grief, reached my ears. Though her sobs she was saying, "Who do I have left?" and the ache in my heart grew with every syllable. I could have rattled off names with ease, people who loved her and cared about her, but I knew the answer she was looking for was not one that I could give

I remember when she held me as a baby and calmed me down whenever I was troubled. She was my family’s rock and no one ever imagined losing her. The day she died was like our very own heaven sent angel was taken away. But, the best moment was that my uncle had seen angels come into the hospital room and take her soul with them. Angels that came to get my great grandmother was clarification that she was going to a better place. So, she went gently into the good night. Another great thing my family realizes is that she lives through me and that is the best thing to hear about your great grandmother. This poem was truly relatable because my parents, and me presently did not want her to die. Her time was finished, but eventually everyone accepted that and spoke of nothing but good memories. The reader should be able to the poem in order to understand it and I believe I am able to understand poems based on my relation to them. Poems do not necessarily have to have one meaning either, but many will relate and compare to what the poem signifies. Majority of the time, there are like-minded individuals who interpret poems the same way and that is a wonderful thing. It’s comforting to actually read poetry because it soothes your soul, elevates your laughter, and can also be the remedy to your current problems. When I read poems, I tend to block out the whole world as if I am reading one of my favorite books. But,

My mum passed away one year prior a month ago. By one means or another I have made it 395 days without hearing her voice; her voice was as beautiful as a crystal clear lake. I watched her beaming in the open darkness; her bright crescent moon smile as brilliant as the star-studded sky above us. Freckled. Eyes as blue as a cloudless sky on a summer day.

I remember the day my mother found out that we were coming to America. She started singing, crying, and dancing. Unfortunately, my mother’s younger sister could not come with us, and she stayed in Liberia. When we finally came to America, few years went by and my mother met my stepdad. She got pregnant and had our little sister name Mimi, but not too long after, my mother was diagnosed with having a brain tumor. She had to undergo a surgery, and I remember asking God, to please not to take my mother's life too. During the period of her surgical procedures, it felt like the longest time in my life, waiting to see what the results would be. Finally, we got our answer; she survived. She is healthy and alive but not a day goes by without me worrying about

I was angry at God for taking her away even though I knew he gained a wonderful angel. I couldn’t stop questioning God’s purpose and the universe for taking my angel and role model. I extensively explored a range of emotions when I stated “So again, I steered, steered at my reflection and all I see is a body left behind with no face. A headless girl standing now with the weight of the world plastered on her shoulders” (Dennis 1). Moreover, the constant back and forward between myself and God started to take a toll and drove me to a dark place. Mourning the loss of my great-grandmother, however, ran its course.

When I arrive at the house my father was waiting on us to arrive at the house. When my brother pulled up he walked into the house to meet me and my father. My father embraces me and my brother as tight as on the other hand, he knew that losing a mother at a young age was tough to go through on your own. He told us that we were going to be all right considering she would be watching over us. As a Result, we went to the funeral home to identify my mother's body, yet we also prefer her to wear a wardrobe that she would like to wear to her funeral. We knew she didn’t like to wear dresses so we went and pick out a pink suit for her cause we knew that what she would have wanted to wear to her funeral. When we left from viewing my mother’s body we went to go find us something to wear to the funeral. The color we announce everyone to wear was black. When we finished finding us some clothing to wear to the funeral we went home. A week later we had my mother funeral at our church we attended. We knew she would have wanted her funeral to be at the church she attended. When the funeral was over everybody went to the mortuary where my mother was going to be hidden in. When they were putting my her body in the mortuary the only action I could take was to start crying cause I knew that it was going to be the last time

As I was sitting in my car parked in front of my house, watching my tears fall drop for drop while the rain pelted against my windshield, I asked myself why did this have to happen? Why did my mother have to pass away? I felt like the world came crashing down on me, but I had to be the strong one and hold my family together. In the end, I found that the bravery I was trying to display was only hurting me. I stepped out of the car and peered over my shoes and as the water came streaming down to the muddy ground beneath me I felt a peculiar beat in my stomach. For years I had walked into my house and seen her face as I opened the door, but on that night it all came to an end. As I walked upstairs to her bedroom, there she was, lying on the floor breathless. Clinging to my brother, I took a few steps forward and sat on the floor next to her. As I sat there next to her, with tears running down my face, I forgot the pain I felt inside and remembered that everything in life happens according to God’s will. So I stilled the pain I felt inside, wiped my tears and accepted the fact that she would no longer be on this earth with me.