Short Farewell Poetry Novels & Stories

He rushed out that night and caught the first ride in that direction without bothering to clean himself up. He was flooded with regret all along the way, replaying every moment we had shared in his mind. He finally realized how much he had neglected me. However, it all seemed far too late now. Finally, he arrived at the grave. In the silence of the cemetery, a bouquet of sunflowers had been gently placed in front of the gravestone. The air was thick with sorrow, and Carter broke down at the sight of it. His final defenses crumbled, and tears streamed down his face. "Mom, Kaia doesn't want me anymore. What am I supposed to do now, Mom?"

You always want what you can't have. My voice echoed through the venue, carried to every corner by the speakers. Terrence's face turned pale. He opened his mouth to explain, but I didn't give him the chance. "To you, the unattainable is always the most desirable. But once you have something, you never cherish it. Someone like you doesn't deserve to talk about love at all." In the end, Terrence walked away, looking utterly lost and broken. I thought that would be the last time our paths ever crossed in this lifetime.

The people were there to say good-byes to their adorable Sir, who in a tryst with destiny, had died a day before. Zubeenda is humming into my ear: Tej mongohore morom newusi Joli joli roi mathu saai Bukuteje jui biyopai Tej mongohore prithibi newusi Joli joli roi mathu saai… The love of flesh and blood now foregone, She burns incessantly, Spreading the flames over my chest All that remains of her is ashes. The love of the world now forsaken She burns incessantly And all that remains of her is ashes…

She might have departed from this earthly realm, but her spirit would forever guide us, illuminating our path through this daunting journey of life without her. Trembling, I reached out once more, touching the words etched upon Athara's resting place. "Though my soul aches, my love, we will remember. We will remember the laughter, the joy, and most importantly, the love that transcended everything. Goodbye for now, my beloved. Until we meet again."

Nor do the heedless in the throng, One thought beyond the morrow give, They court the feast, the dance, the song, Nor think how short their time to live. The heart that bears deep sorrow’s trace, What earthly comfort can console, It drags a dull and lengthened pace, ‘Till friendly death its woes enroll. The sunken cheek, the humid eyes, E’en better than the tongue can tell; In whose sad breast deep sorrow lies, Where memory’s rankling traces dwell.The rising tear, the stifled sigh, A mind but ill at ease display, Like blackening clouds in a stormy sky, Where fiercely vivid play. Thus when souls’ energy is dead, When sorrow dims each earthly view, When every fairy, hope is fled, We bid the un

Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life,

Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o’er-read; And tongues to be your being shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead. You still shall live, such virtue hath my pen, Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men”. When he was done no one spoke as the gravity of his poem hung deep above us. His deep voice that turned sad and hollow towards the end gave it even more life. Almost like he could feel the pain of a lover lost to mortality. He finally bowed a little to end his performance before returning to stand beside me and boy could I not tear my eyes from his beautiful form.

I opened the vase then as I poured the ashes into the water, my uncle, my aunt and me started chanting. "It is time to leave this world and journey into a greater world, There is nothing here for you now, So you must go. Go now, go complete your passing, Go, and with our blessing fare well. Farewell." I poured the remnant of the ashes in the water then stood up.

The poem went this way, Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I did not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uprising rush Oh quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

His regard was once again peaceful and soothing, and he lowered his eyes to the keys as he sang the last stanza, Restless young breeze, born from the twilight Your life nears its end in the darkness of night As I hear your last whisper, still beckoning me I bless your sweet kindness in troubling me With a final sprinkling of notes, the song slowed to its end. Solemnly, Baron Armand twirled me one final time. As I faced him again, I let go of his hand and curtsied picturesquely, my dark locks falling over my shoulders. The baron bowed low as the last echoes of the melody faded away.