Every Time We Say Goodbye


With all the recent disasters and tragedies throughout the country, it’s important to remember how fragile and short is life, how we should take time and care for every loved one and friend. For one day they’re here, and the next they can be gone, as this poem reminds.





Oh I loved you every morning and until the next day,
And never thought I’d ever wake up alone with the dawn.
For love is a blessing that seemed blessed to forever stay,
Until one morning I woke to find you forever gone.

For when our hearts do awake into their spiritual birth
We pray to keep love and never be left brokenhearted.
And though our time is so brief and unsure upon this earth,
We pray our hearts will never become dearly departed!

Still, if only we could know how life and morning might go
And the desolation the next day can bring forever,
We might find every parting a form of deathless sorrow
To make us treasure every moment we are together.

Ah…if only we knew how short and fragile hope can be
And how suddenly morning can end and a life can die!
We would cherish the present and beg the future to see
Why we should be so careful every time we say goodbye.


And if you enjoyed this poetry, you may also enjoy this poetry:




Young Couple in love  Stock Photo - 10731375

All real stories are about people and about their lives and the experiences they share with other people.  And sometimes the most compelling story of all is the one about love and the powerful true love shared and experienced between two people.  This story here is one taken from my own life and now shared with you in the form of a poem I trust you might enjoy reading and perhaps even relate to.  If so, then it’s a story worth sharing.

Patrick The Poet


If memories were voices and loneliness could speak,
In silence I could tell the world the story of my life.
It all began long ago in a place called the sea,
When I came upon happiness and it came upon me.
The day was bright and hopeful, no longer dark and bleak.
For there were footprints in the sand that led away from strife!
Like the dream that becomes destiny…then becomes true.
Like the day I was led to happiness and to you!
So it became for years, together we would walk the sand,
As ours was a destiny never lonely or bereft.
For you were my life’s answer and my soul’s sole reflection;
For if love be cosmic, you were my cosmic connection!
That the sea can be so ardent and turbulent,
And the morning can be so passionate and hot!
That life can be so great and gloriously spent,
Though time and death may be its greater theme and plot!

If love be no more than a passing memory
And words thrown to the wind the only ones that last,
Then I should hope to live and die beside the sea
And spend my days worshiping the wind-filled past!
For the story of my life is easy to understand.
It began the day you came and ended the day you left.
(So take love beyond death and let not your heart feel bleak!
For memories are voices and loneliness can speak.)


SEA LOVERSHere’s a sea-story poem to stir your hearty barnacles to depths of ghostly mutiny and windswept romance!

Patrick The Poet



Oh, such dark and mysterious eyes,
How I loved the way they gazed at me.
As the sand caressed our whispered sighs
Long ago when we lived by the sea.
The sea-breeze air was windy and fresh,
Then beckoned our hearts to lose control.
And while my cautious hands soothed your flesh,
Your fevent, windy heart soothed my soul.
You needed a companion for life,
And I needed a lover to love.
And there each night when the tide was rife,
We conjoined beneath the stars above.
For here by the sea is where we met,
Here by the sea where our love was made.
Yet the sea will take what it can get,
Just as the stars above often fade.
For one night you arrived before me
And fell to wait in drowsy repose.
While the lulling of the harsh, cold sea
Brought what it does when the high tide flows!
For harsh is the sea that drowns the heart
In the tide that love cannot delay.
Although we were never swept apart,
My life was when yours was swept away!
For the tide rolls in and never dies,
And now flows harsh and cold over me;
Were it I could hear a lover’s cries
Instead of my own here by the sea.