روايات وقصص ضمن Death Of A Friend Poetry

My best friend, Eleanor Fitzroy, and I both transmigrated into an era of turmoil, where we happen to become students of a legendary seer. I am born with an uncanny gift for divination. With nothing more than three coins, I can read the signs of fate and predict what is yet to come. Eleanor, meanwhile, possesses an extraordinary mind for strategy. She can decipher the most complex military tactics and, with a single formation of her own design, turn the tide against thousands of soldiers. After leaving Ravenvale, our mentor's secluded valley, we join forces to support the disgraced Seventh Prince, Alexander Wyndham, and help him rise to the throne. Alexander soon falls deeply in love wit

He was dead. I allowed him to drop to the floor and I watched as he dissolved into dust. I felt the tears well up in my eyes and this time, I couldn’t hold them in. I cried for my friend in the dark tunnel. His only offense was trying to help me recover what was rightfully mine, but he had died like a rogue.

People in my life died and Brack's friend was paying the price. One thousand one- one thousand two-

KHLOE The drums rolled and whispered their poetry in ballads , a sad tune to mourn the man that had died, a commoner , a father and a friend , His burial and passage to the after life be will forgotten so quickly in the heart of the other sympathizers but will definitely leave a print in the heart of his loved ones . The burial of the commoners were easy , two coins on each eyes for the ferry man and a few drums roll as his body is burnt till ashes to prevent an incarnation.

“No one would have thought we will lose Kent this way after struggling with his health for a couple of months.” He paused his lips for a while, heaving in the heavy breath that was starting to choke him as he speaks. “—just when he was at the edge of recovering, we lost him forever to the cold hands of death.” He crackled, finally giving in to his emotion he's been trying to fight for a couple of seconds. “More than thirty years of friendship abruptly coming to an end without us getting to bade one another goodbye —how cruel death is!” The old man took his time to discuss the man who had been lost, Kent, recounting stories of their shared experiences and the bond they had forged over the yea

She chatted to me all the way there, relaying stories about sharks and turtles and one about her friend’s dad who missed a step and had to go to the first aid station to have his ankle wrapped. She told me the story from start to finish, including how the dad loved cycling and how sad her friend was that they weren’t able to go cycling together that next weekend. “They go every weekend, mommy. It’s their thing and they couldn’t do it.” Heart wrenching sadness flashed in her eyes. It was only there for a moment, but it bugged me. Was she sad because her friend hadn’t been able to go cycling with her dad for one weekend, or because she never would?

“No one would have thought we will lose Kent this way after struggling with his health for a couple of months.” He paused his lips for a while, heaving in the heavy breath that was starting to choke him as he speaks. “—just when he was at the edge of recovering, we lost him forever to the cold hands of death.” He crackled, finally giving in to his emotion he's been trying to fight for a couple of seconds. “More than thirty years of friendship abruptly coming to an end without us getting to bade one another goodbye —how cruel death is!” The old man took his time to discuss the man who had been lost, Kent, recounting stories of their shared experiences and the bond they had forged over the yea

“He is dead,” a voice whispered in my ear. “No, he isn’t,” I replied. I looked back at the body of the man I once loved, knowing this would be the last time I’d see him. Wondering why our love had to end this way. Truly, he was dead to me.** --- Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t wipe them away. This poem wasn’t just words. It was her truth. And strangers across the internet were reading it, feeling it, and paying for it.

Arrogance befit no man for whatever we have today, won’t be buried with us tomorrow. ~Humeyra. HAMDAN’S P.O.V The last messages I got from Humeyra really messed me up. I didn’t know that I meant so much to her that my death would affect her as much as she said. The poem she wrote to me still lingers in my mind as I recall my heart beating to every word that her poetry entailed. The poem goes as follows:

I will miss our trips to the nearby pool, We'd rather read books there and pretend to be cool, I want to say goodbye one more time and cry with one more kiss, Goodbye, my mother, it's you I will forever miss, When the storms fill my eyes, and all the feels make me cry, I'll remember your sweet lullabies as I say, 'Goodbye. Jeremy leaves the microphone, and everyone next to me pats my back. I never knew what to say at funerals. Poems were the only words that made sense to me. Of course, they don't make sense to other people, but to me, that poem wasn't for them. The sparrow in the tree spreads its wings and flies out into the clouds. I know deep down that's the last time I will ever see that