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Best Obituary Poems

Below are the all-time best Obituary poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of obituary poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Obituary Poem |

Black Blood

Your blood it boils 
with the curse of oil
The backs of black
Their curse to toil. 

The legs you wear 
Covered in blood forever
And covered in gold 
that can never get old
as it stays forever in a trash heap
But as you sow so shall you reap

Look to the sky
See the black? 
It is that which you are scared to lack
The snow pounding your face 
You so obsessed with race
How is it? That wonderful taste. 
The cold, hot, and extreme all due to you! 

Your car is gone, buried in the snow. 
The stock market, it has been laid low. 
The beach town now under water town. 
Lawns in phoenix disappeared with Thirst.
As the fake city goes back under Earth. 

Look down, to the ground
See your desk? See the black?
It is that which you are scared to lack. 
The Earth it eats your room 
filled with toys of conquest. 
How is it? To actually need? 
Too bad, because this is all due to your greed! 

Your world it boils
with the curse of oil 
The backs of now 
Their curse to pay 
For what they took away.


Details | Obituary Poem |

If Old Men Fought

An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war

A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying

Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
forever more,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
families mourn

A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
minimal risk,
long life, his number one ambition

As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed

The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late

Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right

Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right

Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight


Details | Obituary Poem |

Madiba's Candle, Always Alight - Tribute to Nelson Mandela

Today the sun rose
Over a doleful earth
Our hero, uTata Madiba,
Whose life has given us worth,
Has now set sail
For a realm beyond our reach
And now imprinted in mind
His every word and belief

A soul that cared
So deeply for humanity
Whose humility would dismiss
All traces of vanity
He strongly loved
Every being of every race
And fought for his land
With sincerity and grace

We thank you for the faith
For the freedom you instilled
For 95 years of dedication,
A life mission fulfilled
So rest dear one
And let your spirit soar
And my we embrace your ideals
More conscientious than before

Today we light a candle
To unite the flame you've sparked
May you easily find your way
On this new journey that you embark
May we all adapt your vision
And view a stone as a precious pearl
And may your name live on for lifetimes
As the man who changed the world


Details | Obituary Poem |

Lords Of The Prairies - An Epitaph : A Tribute To The Bison

Dressed in my shaggy brown coat
I stand nearly six feet
at my shoulders
and weigh almost a ton
My brethren and I 
once roamed the prairies
in herds of millions
grazing on its grass
which fed and nourished us
for tens of thousands of years

Running at speeds of 
over thirty five miles per hour
across the prairies
in herds that stretched
as far as the eye could see
our hooves created 
a thunderous sound
that shook the earth
causing it to tremble
like an earthquake

When packs of wolves attacked us
we surrounded our calves
kept our heads down
flashed our horns
and charged them
to fight them off 
At times though 
we were not able
to save our young
our old and ill brethren
when they were separated
from the protection
of the herd

The redskins were 
the only human beings
we knew at that time
Though they hunted us
with bows and arrows
to feed themselves
and to satisfy their desire
for shelter and other needs
they did not waste 
any part of our bodies 
They respected us
and we respected them
We lived in harmony
for thousands of years

It was the advent
of the whiteskins
that initiated our decimation
They brought in large
four-legged creatures
that could keep up with
and even outrun us
The redskins realized this
tamed those creatures
sat on their backs
and hunted us
using their bows and arrows
like they did before
They killed more of us
but again they took only
as much as they needed
and did not waste 
any part of our bodies
so we continued to
co-exist in harmony

It was that long mysterious stick
that the whiteskins brought in 
that triggered our demise
From a great distance
it made a loud noise
and something hit us
that we could not see
but it inflicted severe
pain and agony
Some of us fell to the ground
and died quickly
while others struggled
but were injured so badly
that they died soon after
We were helpless against 
this long mysterious stick

We were slaughtered
in our millions
They left our dead bodies
to rot and decay
where we fell
Sometimes they took away our coats
Other times they cut out
our tongues only 
and left the rest 
of our dead bodies
to putrefy and decay
on the prairie grasslands
that we had trod on proudly 
for thousands of years

This is my epitaph
for I just saw the glint
of the sunlight
on the long mysterious stick
heard its thunder
and felt something
go deep into my insides
as I fall to the ground
I am on way to meet 
my proud ancestors
who once roamed 
these lands in freedom as
Lords Of The Prairies 



Details | Obituary Poem |

Bukowski Contest

I watched the blood flow
poetry dripping
coagulating in pools of misery
How could a genius be so careless?
Shaving away our humanity
filtering it through an inebriated brain
Poems in the thousands
orchestrated in the ordinary
Crushing
Truthful
yet not quite right
Genius exacts a toll

Somewhere beyond mirrored ideology
flashes the broken image of man
the smell of whiskey
loose women
one night lays
Lonely is as lonely does

Sticks poked into blind eyes
bones cracking like porcelain vases
adorning the altar of an enigmatic fool
Are we trapped?
Are we idiots?
Do we drink from the well of insignificance?

He sits alone in an empty room
Thinking
Yes Thinking
Until he thinks us out of existance
Yet somehow
Thankfuly
We are still here


Not so Genius

Brilliant none the less. His story is sad but his poetry is riviting.
I enjoyed this contest, facinating person of whom I was not familiar.


Details | Obituary Poem |

The Old Salt

The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each, 
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend. 

An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station, 
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet. 

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward, 
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was. 

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior, 
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now. 

Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember, 
because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye, 
as he draws upon his pipe, 
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.



Details | Obituary Poem |

Summertime Re-Lyric

Summertime…and the livin’ is easy,                                                
Flowers growin’ and the sun’s sittin’ high.                                    
Your Daddy’s rich and your Momma’s so good lookin’;               
So hush, pretty baby…you got no reason to cry. 

One of these days, you’re gonna rise up smilin’.
Take a look around and think you’ve got it all.
You’ve got your Momma’s looks, all your Daddy’s money,
And all the boys in town are at your beck and call.

Summertime…and the livin’ is so easy,
Laughin’, singin’, havin’ so much fun.
No time to stop and think about your future
And what life will bring when your Summer’s  done.

‘Cause Summertime, it don’t last forever.
Breezes cool and the leaves begin to fall;
And in your quiet moments, you sit and wonder
How you've come so far, but have no love at all.

Yes, Summertime…and the livin’ was so easy; 
Ain’t it sad how fast the good times fly; 
And now your Momma’s looks and all your Daddy’s money
Another sweet, warm Summer’s day they cannot buy. 


Details | Obituary Poem |

WHERE IS OKONKWO




Where birds are two
We ask:where is the eagle?
Where trees are two
We ask: where is iroko?
Where men become two
We ask: where is Okonkwo?


Gut in the forest of Titans
He roared in the jungle and
Frightened those in the streets;
He stood the wrath of a tiger:
Made morsel of his gut
And status-jacket of its skin
Since then he wore not goat's skin
His was tiger's batik.


Because of fight,he rested his head on pestles
Because of fear,he knitted his heart with cables;
In battle, he killed in dozens;at home,
He marched on dozen fowls
If we did not see him in battle field
Did we not see him at home?


When fear was wild
With its tongue of flame and fangs of blood
Only Okonkwo stood,stood akimbo and spat:
Which chick eats beads like beans?
Which puppy eats elephant's scapula?
Which demon stands Chinua Achebe?
When woodpecker pecks trees
Does it also peck plantain tree?



Okonkwo! Okonkwo!!
When thunder strikes,
Its honour is certain:
Songo king of pebbles
Masqurade in war front
He that we could not confront
And lobbied the bully to wrestle
But made the bully's skull his cup
Man of brawn, man of brain.


Where is Okonkwo?
Big Iroko that blunted axes
Where is Okonkwo?
Bellows that spat fire and melted metal;
I say where is Okonkwo?
Sheath that swallowed sword
And locked out its handle




For Chinua Achebe ,the author of : Things Fall Apart.


Details | Obituary Poem |

The End

The End

When it comes our time to be laid underground
Our voices now silent...we utter no sound

Our minds stop working and our thoughts disappear
We've finally ended those life living years

Some souls go up..some souls go down
Our bodies remain..six feet underground

We're thought of often from friends true and strong
After days turn to months some forget we are gone

So when you look in the mirror each morning think this
After a while you'll no longer exist

So grab life by the horns and enjoy each day
And if it's possible try to keep the grim reaper at bay

Love your wife your children and all of your friends 
Your cousins your brothers ..all of your kin

And remember this..... Someday you'll be gone
So never live your life sad and alone

Smile each morning and throughout the day
Your time here is short...the days fade away

Enjoy your life... while it's yours to keep
Until the time comes for everlasting sleep.


Details | Obituary Poem |

sonnet i

Therein amongst the subtle fall of rain
That drips rhythmically upon leafy green
I hath now a dead love, woefully lain
Like deadened steps on the grave stones serene.

Though mold casts shadows, haunting and subdued— 
As rain's sleek menace cracked youth's lofty tomb—
Black boughs laden with black apathy, nude,
Line this grave yard as would a mother's womb.

These roses are not perfumed in anguish,
Yet, in hesitation, with them I lie
A solitude prepared for relinquish
That with salted derision, hopes to die.

And the meek mourn with ugly, failing grace
As the rain gradually quickens its pace. 


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