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Death Memory Poems | Death Poems About Memory

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

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Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Sleepless Night

Sleepless Night

***
Teardrops, bagged eyes, a way of sin
The mirror reveals a lost eternal soul
A conniving move against tonight's phantom glow
Voices circle around the insomniac moon
Like magic and beauty, "She's Gone With the Wind."

The idea of love, 
broken like yesterday's wishbone.
She is leaving today,
her arms, my shelter
her wings now immense.
Beauty --- she's gone forever! 
Never will she suffer-
Never will she return-
All I have are lost memories,
tracing what is left.
One final deep breath
tequila vice
to wash away the pain.....

At Last, Now I See!
Under the drunken stars 
I had an epiphany 
Stricken like a match
A sunken treasure 
At Last, I Knew
You did not belong in there,
you were there for the taking
Frail and sick, no longer sane.
Memories lost, no longer - her
My Mother! 

What has become of her since? 
You're a demon, who played us all
Made us cry, while she slowly withered away

The way you laid waste to her body
nipping both her legs
Fed her through a stubble

She rapidly forgot
our names'
our faces'
I hate you Alzheimer
I hate the way you took her the first time!
I hate you Death
I hate the way you claimed her final moment!
***

Sleepless nights and pillowed feathers,
Caress a precious moment around my tender skin
Pretending my mother tucked them in
Anything to help me get past my sleepless nights.


7-08-13

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Night At The Desolate Harbor

The ship in the habor on silvery seas Lay vacant outspread 'neath the glassy moon Drifting in cold whispers of the night Like a drunk man shriveled on clasping knees In the loud echoes of the crawling winds The brave ship nods its old head Restless on the empty stage of the bay When lonely stars bleed their light On what was once earthly sublimity Now silence and haunt lingers there A graveyard of bones and sadness Beside the desolate harbor Rustling in the cold distance Laboring with a haunting melody That invades me in shivers of night. Sadness defeats The happy spaces of my mind Then your sweet kiss would descend Oh... your sweet kiss would descend As a fragrant memory Thawing the pain In the frost of my heart. My soul beckons your presence But silence became my loyal friend And Emptiness - The sorrowing of my hours That slithers through the night As the brave ship nods its old head Crackling and desolate In silvered breaking waters 'Neath moon's limpid eyes My hands descend With crimson buds of April's flowers To rest upon your tomb Of eternal silence.
''Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.''

Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2014

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

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Valentines Death

Red roses true
Skies so blue
Lovers doing what lovers do
Chocolates and confessions
of eternal love
Building up hopes and dreams

I, behind the counter
At the ripe old age of 69
Watch all the youth
Filled with hope and desire
Love is like clouds in the carefree sky
They all stare and thrust
Hoping to latch onto a dream

Reality is not so kind
Illusions die on the ides
Kisses left unfulfilled
Roses with more thorns than hope
Wine so sour, blood is in flavor

Ah, but for now they are all happy
Holding hands and bouquets
Pink roses and red carnations
The road they know not to damnation

Who am I? To spoil a dream
Who am I? To laugh when they scream
You see love was a knife
That murdered me long, long ago


I may breathe, but the death possessed me
The life all but left me
So tonight as lovers kiss and fondle
I wish them well, from far over yonder
I kicked out the chair
The rope taunt and tight
As my last breath
Whispered to my long lost love
Good night

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

In Memory Leonard Cohen

The End of Love

A secret grief rips apart all that was
Slaves to the sexual caresses of time
Stallions in black gallop gallantly in fields
Of spring full wishes
Thou seeith the birth of love
Naked hopes surrounded by sweet perfumes
Seduced by the gods or by demon fools


Dancing, towards our own charades we sing
Funerals consume autumn’s dead poets
The gravestone cold and gray
We hug it like a long lost friend
One may see a battle lost
The other a battle won
In November we reminisce the soldier and singers too

Didst you know I was a prostitute?
Selling my soul to the hourglass of eternity
Foolishly hoping to sleep upon her breast
Shivering as others seem to fall right at deaths door
Brimstone, black and rose

The underbelly of St Laurent
Youthful boasts as the old man in cane hobbles
Generations sailed down the main
Some seeking solace others finding fame

Vaguely the recollections appear
Visions inside dreams inside the darkest fears
The end of love is near
For the hand above is reaching
As I float to the end of time

Enchantment in the crypts
Ravens dancing as they consume our mortal
Hearts
No smiles, no sleep
Thou did knowest I’m surely certain
The dance of death
Only to be followed
By a piper
And angels violins

Rags and shrouds, kiss them all goodbye
Hallelujah



In Memory of Leonard Cohen, a fellow Montrealer, 21 September 1934 – 10 November 2016.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy | |

I Need Your Help Daddy

I’m tired
I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here

I can’t get back in control of my emotions 
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy

I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help 

Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance 
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help






Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic | |

Echoes in the Stone

ECHOES IN THE STONE

No one can turn back the hands of time
Reliving the war,  TEXAS her independence
The tombs so deep, where real hero's fought and fell
A place so precious, sacred in every hold
A timeless journey, with no stop to heal
To find your eyes upon this treasure's glaze
Hearing stories not found in fairy-tale books
Finding GRACE in this AMAZING place
The legendary ALAMO, over freedom, a ghost town
Walking by the thousands, beyond this land
Outnumbered 
Echoes in the stones
A painful event, UN erased

Defenders of the ALAMO gathered to unite
With their life's they put up an honorable fight
Heroes who embraced a defeat in March 1836
A battle deeply wounded overnight
Bravery in their hearts
No time to be scared.
Where the wind now blows,
Echoes in our souls.

With one touch, embrace the south wall
Hearing whispers, sad echoes-I call
Chills traveled down my spine
Standing among all heroes who are still buried, 
In their home at the ALAMO
Echo's in the stone
Proud of the ALAMO.

Echoes in the stone 
Where a hero still stands tall
Heroes even beyond their last breath, 
Death being their only bail
Heroically fighting with their own will and liberty
In hopes, that justice would prevail
The ALAMO rebuilt, standing strong
Full of life, in the center of San Antone'

The voices, the scream, 
Piercing the stone
Fighting till their death
"Remember the Alamo!"
The echoes in the stone, a hero's home
Locked inside each stone of eyes
Heroes who died,
Cried their last words
"VIVA THE ALAMO!"

   SKAT

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? | |

Dancing in the Rain -- ALS



Sitting in a house . . . a home
Across from a husband and a wife

I look at her
Saddens fills the orbs of her dark eyes
Her breathing short . . . shallow inhalations
Panic and fear waiting to pounce
My heart pleads for her . . . be strong

I look at him
His eyes bright . . . projecting confidence, love
Strapped into his wheelchair 
This once mighty man 
Is trapped in a body that betrayed him

I close my computer
Finished . . . dreams shared
Hope and desires expressed
A way forward captured
Time for me to go . . .

But the questions remain
Life . . .    Death . . .   Why?
Why him?  
His family?
Why?

I hear strokes on a keyboard
A mechanical voice vibrates from small speakers
“May I pray?”
This broken man is not done
I close my eyes feeling the moisture leaking out

“Greet each day with a smile”
“Dance in the rain” 
“Embrace love and rejoice”
“Be strong and fear not”
“There is victory over death”
“Life . . . Eternal life!”

This broken man with the unbroken spirit
Is ministering to me, to his family
Dying but still concerned for the living
What an incredible love, a powerful faith
Living and dying well

Listening to his typing, I realize . . . 
I have no power over the eternal questions
Of life . . .  of death . . . 
But God does
This limitation of my humanity is NOT
So I can wallow in despair – NO!
But so I can hope in God!

Thank-you my dear friend
I will never forget you
Your words of hope and love
Your faith
Dancing in the rain.


Note:  My friend died six months after this meeting.




David Meade
Love Generously
June 13, 2015  

Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Simply time to go, a little brother's lamentation

Too hard for me to say goodbye
For all apparent reasons why
Even though we all know it must be
Each heart will someday stop the beat
When the rhythm of life, and silence, finally meet
.
Yet I always seem so surprised 
To find that death is part of life 
Knowing that regret, will now haunt my every rhyme 
The specter called "if only", will inhabit every line.
Wish I could arbitrate a deal to have gained a little time
Just one more talk with Sissy, to ease my guilty mind. 
.
And the sun now sets on my regrets
I gamble on time and lose each bet
Thinking I'll move on and yet, 
here I set . . .
Wishing for one more time 
One more pun
One more smile 
That will never come 
.
If I could just recall the things you said that mattered to you most.
Memories un memorized
That now I'll never know
Years of conversation when I didn't pay attention
Times I should have said I love you 
And somehow failed to mention
.
Then when you tried to tell me you felt your time was drawing near
Your selfish little brother pretended not to hear.
Even when you did your best,  and tried to let me know
You'd made your peace and you were ready, and that for you . . . 
It was simply time to go

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad | |

Once Willows Wept Not

'Tis now known why the Willow weeps, 
a tragedy of love, its memory keeps.
For once a young man and young maid, 
on tender grass, beneath branches lay.
Though pledged by birth to another, 
from clans they hid, to be together.
Thus, the gentle Willow was their choice, 
meeting beneath, till love they could voice.
The Willow held these secret lovers dear, 
so would lower its boughs, when they drew near.
Thus tucked away in the Willow's womb, 
could lay as one, yet this love was doomed.
For jealousy lurked within the pines, 
spying young lovers thus entwined,
behind Willow's curtain of slender limbs, 
He swore the maiden, would yet be his.
Thus, it came to pass one day, 
as young maid softly made her way,
to their Willow, deep within the glen, 
espied the branches did already bend.
Timidly, as she did draw near, 
soft sound of sorrow fell upon her ears.
Parting Willow's branches to look within, 
a dampness did touch upon her skin.
The Willow was shedding sap laden tears, 
for the young man, in death, was near.
'Twas an arrow that had been used, 
a potent poison, the tip infused.
The maiden, now blind with grieving mist, 
pulled out the arrow, held it, in clenched fist.
Whilst cradled in love's arms, did he draw last breath. 
Then, young maid, plunged the arrow, into her breast.
And so it is, that this story is told,
as the Willow's grief would not be consoled.
For unable to stop what had befell,
the young lovers, it had hid so well.
With will broken, as lovers lay dead,
the Willow, its branches, never again spread.
And because it is the memory it keeps,
it is to this day, that the Willow weeps.



Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Elegy | |

Remission (In Memory of William Watt).

Birth begins the tragedy in us. Life's
First sound is a blank scream
Against sorrow's hidden portends of strifes
All we know are mirages and dream.

Mother took the news staring at the sky
She must have cried inside
For I have no evidence else. There's no why
For it ... how my rage defied
Her callous front ... he was her first boy
The only hero she spoke well
Of, his name was the formula for joy
In our house: anecdotes tell
Of his escapades ... youth defying fate
He had a cat's tenacity for life
And from evil wills found a golden gate
Of scholarship and exotic wife.


I remember when the years pulled him back
All he came with was a bag
Of books, and a couple suits in novel sack
His eyes time warped, a lag
Of missing years and loneliness enfolding him
But he was handsome still
And my soul cartwheeled at joy's fresh brim
Those moments that he filled
When eyes first contact spelled pride to claim
This aristocrat like a medal
I could wear. So young he was, her true flame
The son of love's sweet recital!

And many days sitting in his shadow, I heard
Him dream big things like stars
Far away, warm things like a fluttering bird
Things made bright to cover scars
In the sore of memory. His mind was his cliff
A risky place in the high winds
And closer to the edge for the Grail he'd drift
O how the giddy world spins!
He died in Kingston: William came and went
And my mother looked at the sky
But until she died, about his memory was silent
And I forever wonder why.

I loved him, you know, he was the first best thing
A poor child had to claim or show
The world ... with him I was no more common. A king
He made me in his gold of glow
Something that I looked forward to meet in me. I,
Like mother, been silence since
But sometimes my heart just heave and would cry
For time this love cannot rinse
And I that moment cannot comprehend, that death
Gave no notice to his lauded day
And like common dust on a wild wind's balmy breath
My brother was swiftly swept away.

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

In Memory Of Daniel

They plunge their wings
into the deep abyss of night 
oblivious of the world below; 
They are corvers of flight
dressed in coalish attire
cupping the sky in unison, 
with raised plummage, 
see how they fly

a n y w h e r e... 

They are the 
Inky black jack·daws
perching in a file 
atop chimneys 
and rooftops 
sentinels on guard 
for the sleepers
and the under takers  

Inquisitive eyes watch 
silently 
as a car derails  
and a life is taken;
Pop, Daniel's  soul  breaken 
is now 
oblivious, to the world below; 

The crows pierce in markedness
as they watch the heaven's gatherance 
Arc-angels of sombre composure  
anoint the victim,          it's a car crash;
Life turns teal and a mother sheds tears 
obvious, abstruce; 

"Bring him back!"  she cries  

as the crows pay homage  

beside a smashed up Bentley car ...

Mystic Rose 
December 22, 2015

In memory of the late departed Daniel, 
who died a few days ago in a car accident. 
He was only 28 years of age, much too young 
to die. 

Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2015

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

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Poem for the Fallen 44: A Tribute

Heroes of my age in their morning mourn,
Filled with teardrops of pain and sorrow, 
They'll be now part of the epic history, 
But the cloudiness of who ones's fault still remains a doubt for justice,
When all lies in secrecy,
Can we blame peace and harmony? 
Where we are all thirsty. 

The masters of war behind the walls,
Safe and sound from the bullets of death, 
The heroes in order and duty,
When guns can't do anything for victory, 
When bullets can't do anything for survival, 
They hide behind the seeds, behind the prayers
Behind the first fallen hero.

They, who are grabby for one's life, for one's blood, 
Thirsty for distraction of one's covenant, 
They, who pulled the trigger, who ought killing is a game, 
Shooting one's body as if a little toy, 
Like the Trojan war of old, was trapped and deceived.
Will their consciences arrest them?
Will forgiveness forgives them? 
When they will die?

In service, for security the heroes died, 
To sacrifice one's life in the name of duty, 
A peace we wish is a peace they're yearning?
Or an inside job for another piece of power?
Who knows, we only care
But the Man can see them behind their masks, 
Through their eyes, inside their brains.

The agony and heartaches they leave behind, 
The scars that'll bleed for justice and life, 
For the woman of love, alone in coldest times, 
Somehow tears may dry by the aging of time.
For the cries of baby longing for daddy, 
Searching for brawny arms that will lift them, 
The baritone voice that will laugh with them.
Now change of path, life will never be the same, 
The light will also be now the wall.

All will pass, all will calm like an ocean after the storm,
But justice still pursuits justice, must not hide from another demise, 
Will give them the truth? Will the lives be not wasted?
Afraid for this will be one of the unresolved cases, 
Repeats the failure of my Country, 
Their coffins, their graveyards, in memoirs for the heroes 
Once the stewards of us, once the fathers of Country
Worthy of prayers -for them, for families and for justice.
We salute the Fallen!

Copyright © Reuben Escarlan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epitaph | |

Linda-Marie

I suffer
I suffer in the shadows of empty clouds
Sorrow consumes the very essence of who I am
Evil lives, yet beauty dies, why? Why not me?
Her words brightened the world
A woman I will never know
Has left me sad
That life was stolen
The devils work is never done
Her heart is penned in poetic verse
To live on, so that we may all remember
The brightness of her smiles
The kindness of her heart
Late in the night, I read verse after verse and verse
A tear I do shed in silence
For the woman I never knew
Her heart lives on in whimsical prose
I lay down in her memory this red sweet rose

Notes:  Dedicated to Linda-Marie Sweetheart of Poetry Soup
At the time I did not know her struggles, and yet here she was full of
kindness to us all here. Let us never forget the angels who walk 
amongst us. God bless.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 

Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Our Hearts Are Broken Too

(In memory of those lost in Newtown, CT) We may not know the answers to all the questions asked We cannot control how great the pain or how long it will last. Nothing we can do will erase the pain you bear But we cannot remain silent as if we didn’t care. The blood of precious children was shed this very day And grieving families wonder when this pain will go away. We know time will heal a multitude of wounds But we also can be very sure it won’t be very soon. Evil came to visit here and we all wonder why The souls of friends and children were made to say good-bye What happened here today we may not ever know And haunting thoughts of loved ones will follow where we go. You may be called to travel a higher road than we But you cannot travel faster than our prayers that follow thee. We know that we can never bear the grief that you go through Just remember we are here – Our hearts are broken too. Written by John Posey 12/16/12

Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sestina | |

Death Undignified, Fort Laramie 1860

High noon in Fort Laramie, the summer sun is oppressive.
A whalebone corset digs into my body’s tender parts.
Peering from the shop, my hand touching the pane
of dearly brought glass, I feel the vibration of incoming riders.
The pale blue sky disappears in a cloud of dust. 
Children playing hoop, let it drop with an unheard clatter.

Inside Mrs. Dreary’s provisioner, cutlery falls with a clatters.
Outside the store, horses race pell-mell with the oppressive
sound of thunder. “Indians,” children scream, running through the dust.
Folks in buggies, wagons, and on horseback flee for other parts.
“Sioux,” I nod. Gunshots ring through the air savaging the riders.
Mrs. runs up the backstairs carrying the baby. There’s a scream of pain.
Arrow flights buzz by shattering shop window panes.
The Indians leap from horse back to the tile roof raising a clatter.
Mr. Dreary descends, Sharp shooter in hand, and aims at the riders.
A cat’s eye marble falls from the toy display; the scent of fear oppresses.
He slams the door shut as shards of glass scatter, bullet parted.
“Mame, git, Gener’l Connor’ll kill me if y’ur dusted.”

My eyes wide-open owlish are full of tears and dust.
“Damn heathens” Mr. Dreary cusses. Bullets clip the broken pane.
Pulling me behind, opening the useless. “Thop” an arrow parts
his scalp. He falls backward, landing beside me, his spurs clattering.
The baby screams from upstairs. I turn to see Mrs. Dreary’s oppressive
grip on her dead husband. She grabs the Sharp, kills a passing rider.

The arriving soldiers round up the band of native riders.
Mrs. Dreary gets the babe, kicks the fallen marble in the dust
and walks through the door, into another type of oppression.
The soldiers are executing the Sioux braves. Children watch in pain.
Across the street a lone warrior perches. A roof tile clatters
to the dirt. His arrow flies and hits me life begins to part.

Blind with pain I fall forward facedown, numb, parting
the water in the horse trough left for the town’s riders.
My brass buttons and flint arrowhead scrape the tub clattering,
no one in the street notices my departure through the days dust.
My open mouth fills with the rancid, taste of pain.
“How improper,” is my last lucid thought, oppressive.

The clatter of hoofs rocks the trough punctuating my parting.
The oppression of man against man leaves with the riders.
Only dust and the pain of the living remain.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative | |

The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss


April 14, 2013

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet | |

In Loving Memory of Lucilla Carillo

My lovely Lucy, you’re no longer here
He called your name; you left without a fear
Your heart was tired and more so your soul 
God let you rest for soon he’d make you whole

There is sadness deep inside my heart
To know that in our group you’ll have no part
I’ll look for you by name, but I won’t find
That face that was so loving, sweet and kind

I don’t blame God, for He knows what is best
You were His loved one, so he gave you rest
A woman of great faith, you had no doubt
You wrote of Him and all that life's about

I’ll miss your poems, and your friendship, too
One day we’re sure to meet in earth made new


Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. 14 For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 15 According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words.

I Thessalonians 4: 13 - 18








Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric | |

The Dance

                                               The Dance

                                             Dance she said
                                             As this short life
                                             Nears it end.
                                             Dance she said
                                             Nothing I can do
                                             But leave this pain
                                             As I fade from you.

                                             Dance she said
                                             Try to remember
                                             A heart that bled.  
                                             Dance she said
                                             Be as one together  
                                             Before I must depart
                                             Our love forever.

                                             Dance she said
                                             Hold arms around me
                                             As my eyes circle red.
                                             Dance she said 
                                             Glide me as before
                                             While music echoes
                                             Across this floor. 

                                             Dance she said
                                             Catch my falling tears
                                             And things all unsaid.
                                             Dance she said
                                             Moments light my face
                                             With visions of heaven
                                             This our last embrace.   

Copyright © William Gray | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse | |

Beneath The Gathered Dust

Beneath The Gathered Dust This faded memory sleeps in my mind covered with years of gathered dust to shield the pain remembering brings to my heart; but even so, the hurt has never healed. Sometimes that gathered dust that shields my pain is swept away to bare this hurt again. The Nursing Home 1978 Like faded photos lying in a drawer, so tucked away from sight of mind and eye, the memories of which bring pangs of hurt, this one I love, she waits her turn to die. To join the mournful displaced of old age, from home and family, she had to part; she does not see the pain I also feel, as loneliness stabs deep her weakened heart. Oh dear Grandma, I once laid in your arms, I was your pride and joy, your dream come true. But life does balance joy with darker hours, and sometimes there is nothing one can do. I cannot bear to see your tear-filled eyes, your robust figure turned to bones and skin; your pleading hands that yearn for yesterday, the smell of death and dying there within. And though I know I'll be with you again, throughout the time between, I choose to keep you tucked away from sight of mind and eye, safe in my drawer of memories you'll sleep. Today that gathered dust that shielded pain was swept away to bare this hurt again. Sandra M. Haight ~1st Place~ Contest: Memories Sponsor: Nayda Evette Negron Judged: 05/06/2016 ~1st Place~ Contest: Gathering Dust Sponsor: John Lawless Judged: 03/15/2015

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

Memory

“Memory”

sometimes in mass
as sacred songs
wash over me like rain,
 
I break free
and drift 
into memory,

and again you rise, 
your tears flow
as tears fill my eyes,
your dying breath
whispering
good bye;

after so many years,
the knife still cuts
and again, and
again

I cry.

(20 May 2015)

Copyright © Steven Federle | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

In Memory of Paris the 13th

Battle Clans


They came in the night
Like twisted ninja’s
Selling their honor for terror and fright
Blood spilled on Mohamed’s hands

The Tower of Paris stands tall
Art and culture they shall never fall
They wounded the bodies
They murdered the babies

The symphonies of horrors in the key of D
Replaced by waltzes of harmonies in C
We bow in sadness to the wounded and dead
We never shall forget, the cowards who spread red

Tears have been shed,
Liberty for a day became stale bread
No one shall stain our integrity
The fraternity and flag shall always fly free

We shall mourn
We shall cry
We shall bring the devils their justice
We shall in the end forgive and never forget

For we are the humanity of all of France
Laying flowers at the last dance
Je me souvien
Bataclan

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Maya Angelou

                 
Doctor Maya Angelou the writer
Maya Angelou the actor
Maya Angelou the poet
The singer that was Maya Angelou
That Black lady
With silk smooth voice
Like silk smiling under the finger’s touch
She is dead

Maya Angelou is dead
How does that sound?
Do not let questions go to your head
For thoughts abound
With things that have no answer for themselves
Against the contest of death we never wins
I have memory on shelves
Of those who died and left me all their sins.

Maya Angelou is dead
Not the singer, or poet, or writer
The doctor is dead
Do I hear laughter
Or the sound of ice in glass
Before they pour bourbon, scotch or gin
And say I am only like grass
Why struggle if you never win?

The caged bird is it set free at last
Will freedom mute its tongue
What happens to the sorrow of the past
And the souls of people hung
Where there was neither cross or reason
Beyond the color of my skin
It is man alone that last a season
Thinking and believing was Maya’s sin.
            D. Livingstone Smalling

Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Loving Memory Of You

A time that was but could be no more
As a child feeling your love for me to the core
Placing my feet on top of yours to dance and to twirl
Nothing else in life mattered cause I was your baby girl
Playing your favorite song on the organ you had bought
As a child your love and attention I always sought
Picking wild flowers on our many country rides
When siblings argued you never took any sides
Listening to your stories believing each word was true
I felt no one loved their daddy as much as I did you
Riding on your shoulders as we took our family walks
Times we sat having father daughter talks
Whenever I looked up to you I'd see love in your eyes
All the family boardgames when you'd give me extra tries
Even if I acted out you never raised your hand
Without a word our respect you could command
Looking back on those things I find I must now say
Life without you in it feels like my darkest day
But now your with mom where you wanted to be
I'll keep our memories safe so your soul can be free

Copyright © Brenda Chiri-Carroll | Year Posted 2014

Details | Acrostic | |

Rusted Memories Decaying

Ravaged and forgotten, I await my fate in this junkyard,
Under the fierce sun and pouring rain and snow . . . but,
Still within this rusted frame beats a soul and memories, and
There was a time when I was truly loved-
Every person admired my style and curves and my brilliance,
Death, oh   d e a t h   and old age is a terrible thing.

Memories are all I have as weeds and vines devour,
Even now, I can still feel the soft cloth that caressed,
Making sure my paint shined like glass . . .  and,
On long rolling highways and hills, I glided a thing of beauty-
Roaring along without a care in the world (I was young)
Inside my interior was impeccable and my leather so soft
Eternity was mine- I was going to exist forever, but
Silently, the rust began and soon ruined and scarred my beauty.

Days passed and then one day, I was towed to this lonely place,
Eternity seems like not such a good idea now . . .  
Chirping from within me where a little song bird has made a nest,
And windflowers and yellow dandelions keep me company.
Years have passed and more and more cars lay ravaged,
Inside my soul memories stir of happy times-
Now my windows have grown blank as dead eyes, and all the
Gnarled and twisted, rusting cars (once loved) wait  . . . d e c a y i n g.

________________________________
June 12, 2016

Acrostic/Personification

For the contest, Rusted and Busted
sponsor, Casarah Nance

Second Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegaic Lyric | |

Pygmy Forest Song

I lost you out there.
You never came on home.
I called for you and I called to you,
but you never came on home.

I lost you out there,
in the bushes and the brush.
I called for you and I yelled for you,
but you never did come home.

Don't say you couldn't hear me.
I won't listen if you do.
I lost you, and I left you,
and you never came on home.

I lost you out there,
but it's what you seemed to want.
I yelled for you for nights and days,
but you never once yelled back.

I walked and walked between the trees,
squinting toward the sun.
I called for you and I screamed for you,
but no, you never did come home.

Copyright © Kendra Ruczak | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

in memory of a rose

your velvety blossoms
slowly withers away
once tender roots
have now decayed
at the thought i cringe
such insidious disease
gradually infects
each and every leaf

moldy black spots
crinkled stained edges
your magnificent growth
gradually suppresses
your unsurpassed beauty 
now fuzzed up and gray
crinkled debilated stems
a dull distorted array

shoots barely opened
leaves now curled and bent
such unforgettable moment
your petals soon descend
your spicy scent has drifted
such sickly brittle vein
Flowers now discolored
and left to thrive on pain

after months of nurturing
your once marvelous display
the thought of you slowly wilting
has left me in dismay



*My theme is taken from Constance's Poem "in Memory of a rose"*

Copyright © Rashana King | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry | |

CANDLES OF YOUR FINGERS



I miss the candles of your fingers holding mine ,
as we waltz on floors that bathes our dusk.
Seasons glimmer of moist orange,
hands tracing night passages with mirrors
inside our eyes capturing reveries and hymns
of epics written in ashes, on orchids, 
and among seashells.

Yet, I have to part for now
through the sweet ghost of winters lost...
here are your hands ; I give them back to you 
with mine for a while... 
God, how I still miss the candles of your dusk

Posted 6/6/2016 

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016