Poem Commentary

RIP Irene Carmen Medirios. April 5, 1920-July 13, 2003


    As I had carefully scrutinized your life on your funeral day; on that day there were many tears that never seemed to go away. You had five daughters each one with your caring heart. With each and every day since I could remember you had performed a loving act from the very start. For as long as I've been alive you had always had this caring way. When I got the news that you passed away I had no idea what to say. I remember in the past I wanted to save your life. As I recall those days I thought I could have had a heart transplant we now have a Grandfather without his wife. You had never been blasé about seeing you're grandchildren, you were happy to see us all the time. I would give all the money in the world to have you living again down to the last dime. I had prayed that when you died you would return to Heaven again. Something deep down inside of me tells me that you are indeed up there watching me survive in a world of sin. As I finish this poem I just wanted you to know that although all of us have bad things about us the best of you has always showed.

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LadyLuck commented on You


its beautiful and brought tears to my eyes. Radiating sadness while still emitting a slight joy at having known such an angel. bravado

koolmom0 commented on You


This is a lovely tribute to you grandmother honey. I am sure she knows just how much you love her. :) Kool

SuperChick76 commented on You


Beautiful. I can relate so much. I remember when I heard my grandmother die, so yea, Beautiful.

MrGee commented on You


This is a lovely tribute to your grandmother. The rhythmn and rhymn are very good. And yes, Grandmothers are so giving to their grandchildren. I get the impression from readng the poem that you loved her very much. this work is a 10 from me.

HopeOhlarik commented on You


very heartfelt poem dan, you did a wonderful job. your pain and luv for her is eminating from this poem.

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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