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Death Dedication Poems | Death Poems About Dedication

These Death Dedication poems are examples of Death poems about Dedication. These are the best examples of Death Dedication poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ode | |

Dear Lucifer

I cannot compete with something as painstakingly glorious as you
Envy is but a humbling tumble down a steep, rocky hill
I am crushed in your fits of glory—your screaming for passion
My approaches are absolutely wrong
Therefore my communication is a weak, ransomed victim
Your poison arrow frog skin rubs against my exposed body
I happily accept my fate
For your beauty surpasses the ephemeral pain of the infectious reign
My erroneous, inevitable downfall
I hold you up—I feel the need to keep you tall!
Michael the Archangel did not insult you once, Lucifer
How then will I? 
How can I possibly be higher than you?-
Why would I want to?
I admire your freedom
I simply disregard your macrodomes of ever-worshiped flaw 
If I could allow myself, I would share in your glory
Only to add to it further
But as I am poisoned with the truth
I can only be your grounded pedestal
And though you flee from humility in its wake upon my brow
I realize everyday you are living for the grounded now
And I merely look to the unknown future
A place I dread where you unwillingly hold me up
Bonded in the ground with Death and Hades
You become my pedestal, and the worms my vineyard
My parasitic feet seer your glory
I am ever so sorry
I never wanted this renown

There was a time I do recall
When you overtook me in my sleep
I cried aloud in helpless acceptance
But soon I was forced in a croak of laughter
I felt your bitter poison
I felt pride at last
I thank you for it
I thank you for showing me

What I will never be

Dear Lucifer,
Provoke me no longer to praise your eternal existence
Generations of Evening take a hold of me now
And the fruit must be shared


Details | Ballad | |

This Song is for my Mother

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Mama…
I know I wasn’t there……

For you

Would have placed 
A magic carpet 
‘neath your weak and shaky legs

Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again

Would have bribed 
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain

Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again

Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old

Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark 
And lonely soul

Be the girl
Playing games
In a world 
The sun won’t set

Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created….cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away 
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day

I’m  drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….



Details | Free verse | |

Soul mates solace

When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece


Details | Rhyme | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Michael Jackson (4)

Refrain
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.

               Do you ask me why does my sorrow flow so
               Endlessly for him? Is he not gone the way 
               Of men that many went before? O I do know
               My time may not be long, and lessons delay.
               Who do think was the man in the mirror? did
               You see us there, did you know it oppressed him
               When like wanton dogs drugged and rabid
               Went heedless along the callous way being dim.

Look at the dance videos again, tell me
You see the what he begs to beat it. Off the wall
Are shadows falling like an inner expose
Where he internalized the world, and yet did call
In many songs - his troubled world was us
But now the king's sun set to dust, and we
Remain to heed and weep the vanity of lust
The tangled truths of out tentacled history!

                  Michael was God's gift to our season, and how I
                  Wish he would dance for me across the tribal plains
                  Of Africa again, where warriors ride in the sky
                  Through the fire make us brothers without chains
                  A global oneness where dreams deny the child
                  Nothing again. O death, what oneness beyond this
                  Can we find? Treat him kindly there, be mild
                  To him who in this troubled life knew no bliss.

Michael I miss you; O genius, sleep now in peace
The storms of life are over, the lightning ends
And droughts will come again, but I'll never cease
To proclaim your virtues to foes and friends;
Sleep beloved. Your glory stream in summer's eye
And Harlem's street are filled, old men remember
And old women interrupt their planning to cry
Farewell, Michael ... the grandest star is but an ember.


Details | Rhyme | |

black pebbles and violet streams

violet 
star stream
flowing 
across 
the 
soullessness
of
mundane dream...
whispering "everything's alright
she's thriving like a spring fed rose
in saintly gardens
an angel brightly glowing

...of this dream.
i staggered along
a ragged oragami path
through a battlefield of metal devils
called 
quartered living,
faith folding and unfolding
garnished with ogres slinging
burning orbs of fire -haloes of insanity...
this is when 
violet star 
sashayed in
soothing me
shielding me
her singing rosary
telling me 
that she loved and missed my heart
re-fastened our very being with a satin dream kiss 
that had tattered in the talon of time...
lifted me across the bloody
broken battered fields 
 ...into the arms of forever
where the beat of pristinity only flies

so fly 
my love,
fly ever so softly into me
If dreams mean anything
I know it wont be long 
till we dance
the dance of butterflies
over green sprigs and lacy things
in a warm wind
yes 
in the heart pond of gilded tomorrows,
we'll gently drift about
make origami sunflower love
high upon a gilded glade...

if dreams mean anything
death is just a splash 
of black pebbles
in a violet starry stream....
if dreams mean anything


Details | Haiku | |

R-I-P -----ROBIN WILLIAMS




Spin off Happy Days Na-Nu Na-Nu Shaz-Bot man Planet Ork Mork fly!
© PoeTTreeZ Publishing


Details | Narrative | |

JE SUIS CHARLIE -- Afterthought

JE SUIS CHARLIE — Afterthought

The shock of this most frightening tragedy is practically beyond 
the pale of any reasonable or adequate attempt or effort to explain
it or to rationalize the horrible circumstances surrounding it.

Let me just say that all of us who are writers and poets ply our
poetry, “our intellectual wares,” if you will, in a common written
medium that expects the same unrestricted level of freedom of
speech and expression exercised by those extraordinarily brave
artists at “Charlie Hebdo” who were recently murdered in cold
blood by self-styled Islamic extremists in Paris. 

It is also equally saddening and deplorable that some courageous 
police officers died in the line of duty defending these freedoms 
as well as some other security people and hostages caught up in 
the midst of these most terrifying circumstances. 

The heinous actions perpetrated by these armed extremists
destroyed innocent lives and affected the lives of a number of
loved ones whose burden of sadness and tragedy is unimaginable. 
Their actions also were an attempt to strike at the very heart of 
those sacred freedoms that all of us who live in open societies and
democracies cherish as part of our everyday lives. The armed 
extremists, by their actions, also personified and demonstrated an
obvious affectation for barbarity, stupidity, ignorance, and cowardice 
that were all on ample display as a result of what they did.

Freedom of speech and expression are among those certain
historic inalienable rights given to all of us by the divine hand of
God himself, and certainly not by the generosity of any government 
or religious group (regardless of faith). The brave souls who died
at Charlie Hebdo, died exercising this most sacred franchise.

The point I’m driving at is this: Those extremists who committed
these most reprehensible actions of recent against their fellow man 
did not win in spite of their collective efforts to destroy lives and to 
sully these precious freedoms that all of us as writers and artists 
hold so very dear.

The outpouring of emotion and sadness in support of these slain
heroes in the face of this most despicable crime is quite compelling, 
and underlies the continuing determination of all of us who love
and cherish the freedoms of speech and expression to continue to
speak out and to exercise these sacred rights without reservation.

With all of this in mind, I humbly and proudly conclude my narrative 
to all of you here by saying and echoing as loudly as possible:
“Je Suis Charlie” . . . “I am Charlie.”

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (January 10, 2015)
(Narrative)


Details | Free verse | |

Departed Friendships

For Linda, Freddie, Chan, & others that meant something true to us…

Another departure…

Another wistful teardrop
Embracing yesterday’s candid goodbye

No longer can we touch their physical soul. 

But, we
Can keep amnesia’s accented clef at bay

Holding their voice beyond new tomorrows

…

It is the triangle of life’s conundrum
When we slow dance with the arms of Why
The breaths of How
The misunderstood elegance of inevitabilities

We are taught the 2 guarantees of life: Death & Taxes

Yet, only one really means more to us
Within sunrise’s incipience

We hold convex reflections with incandescent sadness.

Yet, time allows opportunity to fly higher than God’s perspective
EVEN through our limited wisdoms
While we cherish
Remember
The Candles in our wind

…

I whisper silent prayers for our friends, family, & colleagues that now SOAR WITHIN!

For they may no longer be in front of you & I...

They are
And always shall be

By
Our 
Side

©Drake J. Eszes

 I was honored to have Chan on our Stand As 1 show back in March 2014. It was a deeply memorable show. You can listen to how it all went down here: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/standas1/2014/03/16/stand-as-1-returns-wspecial-guest-that-archaic-poet 


Details | Quatrain | |

The Whispered Song

The warrior lays her weary head, 
With heavy heart she cannot bear, 
Burning tears stream down her face, 
As whispered memories touch the ear.

Her armour tarnished by remorse, 
Her battle-cry a wimpered row, 
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude, 
Will never know forgiveness now.

The song began two score ago, 
When two came knocking at her door, 
In need of refuge from the world, 
Of that, and love, and little more.

Forced to fight for every smile, 
Her only solace found in song, 
She longed for love to rescue her, 
And plant her where she could belong.

Jealous tongues are seldom kind, 
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love, 
The caged canary only sings, 
When coaxed to praise from up above.

For the steely spine that now I own, 
Forever shall I grateful be, 
A gift from her, and from her own. 
Courage mounted inwardly.

I'll not forget how I have loved thee, 
And youthful memories I will prize, 
Til on the shore of His forgiveness, 
Whereto now, we both shall rise.



Details | Couplet | |

To All Of You

There are times we are left to cope
With situations that drain our hope

Leaving us full of despair
At how some people just don't care

About the evil that they do
To good people like all of you

We are left to somehow face
That in mankind there is disgrace

And those of us left alive
Must find away to survive

As you pick up the pieces of your life
Without your mother, father, husband or wife

And some of you God forbid
Without the love of your kids

We must band together with a brotherhood
Show that in this world there is some good

Because we are together in this deal
We try to help each other heal

We seek in each other good advice
And offer each other sacrifice

We hold each other in prayer and song
As we continue to re-build the wrong

Because what else in the world can we do
Except let the light of good shine through

The evil darkness and despair
Of a catastrophic lack of care

We want you to know you are not alone
Think of America as a giant cone

And all of us are funneling through
Our prayers and hopes to all of you


Posted for Nathan's 9-11 contest


Details | Rhyme | |

The Rail Ties That Bind

A little girl
She comes to a land of ghosts
Almost empty streets
She wonders
Where are all the people
No one here looks like her
Within her heart
Emotions stir

It is so cold
Foreign 
Lonely
Where oh where, is the mountain of gold
Her mom and dad they are so bold
Pioneers
Adventures
People of action
Not of words

Hong Kong 
Left behind
A new future to find
They endured the sad
A world not kind

Their crowded apartment
A benevolent uncle stole
To leave the country they paid a toll
Plane tickets in her fathers hand
Brought his family to a new land
The little girl did not understand

The language she knew
Was Chinese
She spoke it with such ease
She thought, she must throw it away
The bits of her culture slowly stripped day by day

Forced to grow up, with blinding speed
She looks after, siblings needs
No time for her
She couldn't play
Duty and honour
The Chinese way

Mom and dad, working night and day
They do so much, for little pay
Food on the table
Their sacrifice
A warm home 
Within a land of ice

Through the years
A life is built
Yet the little girl, she is filled with guilt
She knows, there's been a sacrifice
Beneath the surface, of all that's nice

Many, many, years ago
Her grandfather was here
Away from her dad, for many years
Cooking for men, who worked the rail line
A small comfort when they would dine

Disposable humans
They took the risk
The horrors so many
To long too list
They needed their families
So far away
Yet the politicians, turned them away

The abuse he suffered
With all his friends
It seems now the Government 
wants to make amends
The past and future, are combined
You can't move forward
Without looking behind

The little girl, now grown up
For the past, she gives her thanks
Dreams from ties
She rides their rails
Blood and sweat 
from hammering nails
She hears echoes, from the past
It seems their gifts, were forged to last



My wife went to a forum where the government 
apologized for the awful things that were done
to the Chinese people who came to work in
Canada. So many Chinese men left their homes
in search of a better life for their families. They
were forced into slave like labour to build our
cross country railway. Many of them lost their 
lives in the process. They were not allowed to
bring their families. When the earlier generations 
came they were charged a head tax to move to Canada.
This discrimination was exclusive to Asian people.
This is a sad chapter in our Canadian History.














Details | Monorhyme | |

Northward Bound

Death shadows, furious, frenzied, fought Waiting for this wretched soul to rot They redeemed me, tortured me, ceasing not Crows perch upon my severed breast Picking at the insipid flesh Vultures of glee coo and ratify my rest Love pierces my heart that is dead Maddening my severed head Feeding ones engorged instead Deprived and empty of soul within My ribcage grows bare and thin Eaten away by my own cruel kin Skeleton bare and scorned Fowl breasts of youth unadorned Cascaded in grotesque glory, basked and ever-mourned I fly! Hovering over my body too weak As tears fall down my hungry beak Let me fly north toward winter so bleak! The tears freeze on my cold bones In the dark snow that blackens, I grow old As wind, birds and corpses forever moan Homeward north I fly…I feed I, the coal-beaked corpse still need To roam…to rot…to unremittingly greed I am shadow, vulture, corpse, woman—all in one Feeding on my own meat, enriching everyone Absent of my own skin, the pain has just begun
For Justin Bordner's Death Shadow contest


Details | Free verse | |

Death of a Child

He Spent Most of His Childhood Identifying 

With his own Mind, Watching his Brain Mould

And Gestate into a Universal Quandary of 

Short Circuits and Bad Wiring.

         -God is an Incompetent Electrician-

Their Feet Hit The Numbers in The Squares,

He Turned The Digits To letters, Each Imprint

Forging Alphabets in His Head.

         -Some Taunted, Some Observed-
      -              None Understood                  -

He Writhed in His Classroom Chair, It Never

Became Comfortable, His Blood Screamed In

Liquid Agony and Circulated His Wooden Frame.

         - His Chewed Nails Clawed at The Desk -

His Thoughts Where Composed of Miracles.

I Am His Testament To The World:

To The Boy Who Died in me,

So Many Years Ago.


Details | Marsiya | |

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013


I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over


Sabrina Niday Hansel


______________________________________________________________________
Placed 1st in "Unsung Hero" 7/2014 contest
Also 3rd. in "Portrait of a Poet" 1/2014 


Details | Free verse | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


Details | Lyric | |

Pins and Needles

Another song written in middle school - edited of course. ;)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Verse 1] I'm trapped within these walls Never to leave at all I am the prisoner inside my own home My spirit is broken I do not believe I'm locked in this chamber which I cannot leave [Chorus] The needles that break the skin The anger that runs within I’m giving it all away Just to stay alive The needles that pierce my veins It will never be the same We’re on pins and needles now It’s how we survive [Verse 2] They say he’ll find me soon Got to get out of this room The blood will spill and he’ll take what he wants to I’ll never let him through GET OUT OF MY DREAM He whispers in darkness, “I’m not who I seem…” [Chorus] [Verse 3] The four walls around me They start to close in I know I’m too late now I know I can’t win So just tell me I’m crazy It’s all in my head You’re not the killer And I am not dead [Chorus] [Breakthrough] Don’t tell me it’s impossible To start it all over again Infection sinks through your pale skin You’ll curse the day that I’m dead [Chorus]


Details | Tanka | |

For Paulie: RIP

in this silence
the respirator breathes…
we did not know
his heart
was
still




*Inspired by Brian Strand's, Indelible Impressions contest. This was written the day after my 
Step-father-in-law passed away...he passed while we were in the room.


Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

the day you flew to Heaven


           We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time 
              hearing the news before most of the World did
           He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
           He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected 

           He had loves and passions from many places 
           deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
            Not only did he love music and inspire all 
            He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul

              The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened 
             It was John Denver's plane that went down
             Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial 
             So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
              always in loving memory 
               OH babe ,  do we hate you go ~    
                            
    

         Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
                   "Leaving on a Jet Plane "
             


Details | Free verse | |

Bill


R.I.P. William Dale Eubanks
d. July 1, 2012, aged 68 yrs., Tennessee Ridge, Tennessee

Death came as no surprise
the first Sunday in July;
it claimed you, on a ridge in Tennessee,
with kin who took you in and waited with you
through the last hard days.
You kept what fears you had well hid,
did not betray with loud complaint
the fate you could not but know awaited.
A smile, a joke, a hug – exotic meals –
And genuine interest greeted all you met.
And you were, certainly, never boring
but well-traveled and smart
beyond the telling.
We’ll miss your wit, your bright demeanor,
and will remember all you freely gave ---
and what you took from us
with your passing.


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Michael Jackson (1)

Refrain:
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.

          Did you know the king? Did you listen him sing?
          Did you hear his heart breaking like daylight
          In each song? Did you see him dance, or bring
          Your sense to space invisible wounding his flight?
          I was thirteen, just walking away from twelve in
          Time when dreams lie broken at the white wall
          I heard with his brothers five, and saw him spin
          The great magician dancing for each curtain call.

          Time spanned dust: a five year old sensation rose
          In white clouds with black glory beaming rainbow
          "Stop the love you save may your own" had expose
          The urgency of his soul: the anathema of scarecrow.
          O, but who will listen to the artist's pain? Did you
          Stop and think that rage could become so beautiful
          On stage? Michael sang and still you had no clue
          About the hell he was going through. Twas wonderful

          How he became the initiator of our reconciliation. O
          "You and I must make a pact, we must bring salvation back
          Where there is love, I’ll be there" they sang, and so
          All the while building a bridge between White and Black
          "I’ll reach out my hand to you, I’ll have faith in all you do
          Just call my name and I’ll be there" but we doomed forgot
          What cities were burning, and what he was yearning to do
          The subtext to greatness has an eternal sorrow for plot.


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Tired of Explaining

Tired of explaining      (a twist from ND. poem)

Ignoring the presence of my stillness==
As you walk with bitterness== 
Your radiance is no longer true== 
A melody with seduction over due== 
The song so bad wiped out by you== 
Rotating my abdomen== 
From the soul==
The worms inside== 
They all die==
Under your control== 
Separating the way==

Is as if though== 
All the beauty in the world== 
Up and lived==
You are more than I need== 
Drowning in my own abyss== 
Judging you one==
Right after the other== 
A hellish so profound== 
Revelations passed so suddenly== 
Expression of limbo, I replay== 
The revenge== 
The revoke== 
Suffer catting my oxygen==

They illness== 
Then lifeless== 
They identify== 
Then disgust== 
Never play the sensitive== 
Feel my needs==
Like the wound full of abscess==
A sore to never go away==
Yes like the illness== 
Then lifeless== 
Dropped addict== 
These shivers down my spine==
Identify, escape, abuse of certain== 
Announcing it even more== 
Proof that I am found== 
Out of love==
 
The mind finally receives==
Revolution with open eyes== 
The heart is trapped to proceed== 
Cleverer than the open skies==
Old sweat glands in my hand== 
Retiring the mind== 
The best of my heart has no stand== 
Died from your retrieving cries== 
Advancing to my knowledge== 
The darkness that you lend== 
DISCLOSURE== 
to== 

In the depth of your eyes ==
I run before you hypnotize== 

Oblivious to the Valley of your wits==
 
Refusing to relive the song== 
Feeling that are gone==

Never will it feel right==

I still feel the rotation==
Exhale went out your soul== 

Exiting far from sight==
Revoke an end to your light== 

A kiss of death to your good night==
A kiss of death to your good night== 


(To: Nathan Dilts my way of explaining love over due)


Details | Narrative | |

You're Still With Me

Rushing  to your bedside,
cars blurred, people passed me by
yet I still looked for a sign
to know you would be all right
but I only felt God's tears on my cheeks that day

You just lay there,
the fire in you set to low
and I could not see your bright smile
but your heart still beat, ever so strong
and I felt God’s arms embrace me that day

For seven days you held on,
a day for each of us 
even then you were so thoughtful...
you could not speak, but we still heard you breathe
then I heard God whisper to me that day…

As I left with papa to buy your mattress
to soothe your aching sores
I heard His voice say, “Go back and kiss him,”
“This just may be your last.”
And true enough, it was.

We left you there still breathing,
not on your own though, but still
Then that dreaded phone call...
No more need to buy that mattress,
your heart had already gone still

A part of my heart will always be numb,
and I shall never be the same again
a certain twinkle in my eye won’t shine anymore,
it died as you took your final breath
but my smile, how thankful I am I have a hint of yours...

Tears still flow from my soul you know
for all my mistakes, for my version of coping
I am just so sorry, I hope you have forgiven me
and I still hope to feel your embrace once more
when I reach Heaven’s door someday...

It may only be in dreams that I truly see you,
only in prayer do we speak
You are here no more and yet I feel you,
inside my heart, the depths of my soul…
Alive






** this is about the last image of seeing my only brother alive...
he was diagnosed with a brain tumor the size of a tennis ball 
5 months prior to his seizure which led to a 7-day coma, 
which he finally succumbed to, 
just 2 days before I turned 23...he was 32...

** originally wrote this for Frank's Images contest- 
thanks Frank for coming up with this, 
it's helped me to write and share this... 
please say a prayer for Raphael, my brother--thank you...

** submitting this as well for HG's Personify a Tear contest

--nikko palmario


Details | Double Dactyl | |

Beyond Your End

 BEYOND YOUR END
Look deep into yourself my friend,
if then, you need to look to me, 
and deep enough to see the end,
beyond your end is where I'll be.

Into the love someday you'll see,
becoming all the things you'll know,
before your very eyes, I'll be
already where you want to go.

I'll be your long and blinding light,
of which all life is awed,
the thread that reaches through the night
in search of what is God.

And in a while, if love is right,
and hope is not just more pretend,
though you have sought what e'er you might,
'tis me you'll find, beyond your end.

And I will love your death away,
removing from your mind
what'er your death might seem to be,
with love impossible to find.
Û  © RON WILSON aka vee bdosa


Details | Ode | |

Renaissance Reed

     Lou Reed , Mistral of his time
     so you walked this road on the wild side
     unique in music , never selling out 
     believing in Art instead of commercialize
     
     Lou Reed the musician never compromised ~
     Sweet Jane not enough for our crowd of eccentric rockers 
     still will live forever with the many that left before you
     one can imagine from John Lennon to Johnny Ramone 

     a party in Heaven of the finest rock bestowed 
     no text , no MTV when they pursued a dream 
     New York, hotel Chelsea an age of Renaissance
     ragged jeans and leather jackets ,Art on stage  

     No, your Rock not ever fade away , it will stay sweet Jane forever ~

      For the fine Man with words , ode to Lou Reed .

     

     
     



Details | Rhyme | |

A Soul Awakened

She is the muse to her own sorrow; She is the digger of her grave. She is the painter of her ocean view and every fatal wave. She is the shadow of her Father; She is the darkness in your sight. She is the night without the stars surrounding pale moonlight. She is the music with no words; She is sweet love without the reason. She is your dreamer with submission cold by warmth with every season. She is your pet with cold intentions; She is your baby scared and shaken. She is the bold and pure- the lost and found, She is a soul awakened.


Details | Rhyme | |

Echos of the Heart

I thought of you today, sweetheart,
which is really nothing new.
I thought about you yesterday,
and the day before that too.

I think of you when I'm alone,
I often speak your name!
I keep your lovely photo,
in a golden picture frame.

Your memory's in my make-up.
it's like another body part!
I promise you, my darling,
I keep it locked inside my heart!

I'm told by friends, as time goes by,
that I will slowly heal.
I have my doubts about it,
because the pain is still so real!

Part of me went with you,
when the Good Lord called you home!
It broke my heart to lose you,
now, I must go on alone!

You're with Him now, in Heaven,
so all that I can do,
is say a little prayer each day,
till He calls me home, with you!

Poetic form:  Rhyme
Ralph Taylor
I love this poem because I wrote
it  to Una, my loving wife of 54 years,
who recently passed away. 



Details | Rhyme | |

A MEMORIAL TO MARTIN LUTHER KING JR

Words would fail me if I might assay
To articulate the courage of this man.
The numerous facets of his dossier
Are subject for song in a distant land.
Awakened in youth from serene dreams
By the melodious blast of Israel’s horn.
Tall standing received earth’s esteems,
Accepting God’s charge wherefore he was born.

His marble image cleaves the bluest sky,
And his halo is now a crown about his brow.
His peace of mind earth can no longer deny,
For he has now fulfilled his earthly vow.
It can only suppose with the midnight of the mind,
What may be reason’s welcome morning  star.
One day he may return even more divine,
With a holier task from God who reigns from afar.

There’s no thunder heard from Sinai’s height,
And we see no parting waves at Jordan’s bank.
We have followed no truer soldier in our darkest night,
And now are marching on bravely in file and rank.
Rolling on in faith toward the welcome dawn,
The good fight won he’s earned the honor of Moses.
Now trekking  the soul’s desert to the divine throne,
He follows God’s light up the street of yellow roses.


Details | Ballad | |

A House On the Cliff's Edge

There is a house on the cliff’s edge,
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline
At night, the tide lifts high against a foggy moon
In the morning, gloomy clouds settle with the sea
At times, not even the birds are seen or heard
The house is left to nature’s caress

Home-crafted seashell chimes sway and sing with the wind
Crushed sand dollars lie together on the back porch
The shells were once whole, collected by the former owners
Long gone are they now, smiling with the moon
The owners are the very sound of the ocean spray,
Striking the rocks, announcing the cool dawn of day
They are not the dark, empty rooms,
The rooms that nobody thinks of as they go about their lives
The quiet owners are long gone—thought of only by one
A stillborn legacy about as tiresome as the sun,
When the clouds crisp out its beams . . .

A seawater puddle is in the middle of the dining room
Nobody knows it sits there, sinking in the floorboards
It used to be a far larger puddle after a storm,
Stealthily leaking into the house
But now it is small—so small—and the boards are moist,
Moist with its only companion amongst the instilled silence

Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
They were not much for socials and gatherings
They always lived their quiet, happy lives
Without a care of the outside world,
Far from anybody’s thought
Miles from the nearest home
Where the next generation comfortably lives 

He never finished fixing that leak . . .

Sometimes the puddle gets bigger after other storms
And when it does, there is almost life there again
You can see the chandelier reflected on the unperturbed water
As a crystal dangles and falls from on high
The dark silence following the drop is as deep as thought . . .

Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
There is merely a house on the cliff’s edge
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline

-March 21, 2013-