Bereavement Thanksgiving Poems

These Bereavement Thanksgiving poems are examples of Bereavement poems about Thanksgiving. These are the best examples of Bereavement Thanksgiving poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Light Poetry |
One red candle of dying flame
I pour one glass of Bordeaux, into yesterday
A meal for one, as autumn leaves become undone
A sad clown’s face
Reflects back to me
Thanksgiving is lonely
When all your friends are dead

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014




Details | Rhyme |
They're treasures to me, so I don't mind.
My Aunt Ellie in tow, right behind.
I climb the ladder, lift wooden door.
There are piles of stuff strewn the floor.

She recites the story about Aunt Jean.
How she cursed her antique sewing machine.
Under material, maybe old drapes?
My cousin's old stereo, played 8 track tapes.

There's a carpet remnant, rolls of paper.
Aunt Ellie says the 70s, I think much later.
A box of dishes, perhaps wedding gift?
Not used Thanksgiving, too heavy to lift.

A pile of records, Walt Whitman Victrola
A photo of a young man on Venice gondola.
It was where my uncle asked Ellie to marry.
Damn, I sure miss my late Uncle Harry.

I relish the memories in this dusty loft.
Didn't realize Uncle Harry liked to golf.
Aunt Ellie glances around, teardrops flow.
All she wanted were her Christmas bows.


11/26/2017
Written for Eve Roper
Photostory Contest
Took a 2nd place win. 

Copyright © Rhoda Tripp | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
The highway bridges
Remnants of conversation 
Clothed in ethereal blue.
Variform clouds
Stark white or gray
Bandage my heart.

Brother’s litany
Of thanksgiving
Floats above my head.
Mom and dad were
Good parents.
They worked hard.
Cemetery gates swallow us
Sleek and black
Like a raven
Plucking its prey.
Attendees’ musings are
Wetness on the
Road’s cheeks
Tactile as a 
Cat’s tongue
Freshening the spirit

Words of gratitude
Misty as memory’s yesterday
Rich worked hard
He did very well for himself.
Puzzle pieces fit tightly
Brothers’ faces, Sister’s words
Cathartic like a cloak’s
Feathery embraces.

Drops of rain 
Shower blessings
Prayers of thanksgiving
From another time
Diane is a beautiful girl.
Bill is smart.
How is Maureen?

Is he still here?
Yes.
How do I know?
Sunshine branching
Apple twigs glimmering
Meanwhile traffic
Normal as a busy
Day’s waking and sleeping

The wrought iron gates open
Spilling family out
Like white markers with
Blank dates

Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016




Details | Free verse |
Meddlesome acknowledgement was my gift to many
I wondered where the nutrients were coming from
I was absorbing your words, parched by my own dimming light-years
There I was stunned by the legion of black-faced martyrs

Exasperation of the undeniable misunderstanding of every conceivable word 
Left me with another path onto death
And not nearly dying, but regenerating in technological, factorial woe
Demon thoughts squeezed bile from the brim of subconscious drivel  
Accelerating the ghouls from the gull of my esophagus 

I was held down from the dreams of the fortnight
From words of architecture ascending from the brims of the archangels 
Eyes remained closed
And I felt the actual descent of my downfall
I did not open my eyes at all

I did not mean to pry into your life, oh beautiful soul
Please accept my gift today
My fierce gaze into your lavishing grail
Led me to accept and love where I often fail
I am no longer smothered in your intricate designs
Though I am surely small to you
Though I feel only a fraction of a fool
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies

I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |
               My heart 
Too many circumstances
Surrounding this land of ours 
Too many trouble I bear 
Too many challenges 
It come and change it brings
Despite all 
this heart of mine 
Still strong 
Still holy to nature 

My heart 
I wonder how it withstand all
This forces
Is a miracle am sound 
The energy keep coming
Now am strong 
Still holy to nature 

My heart 
It beat tells a lot 
Is like the eye of an eagle 
Some times it fly faster 
Some times it fly slowly 
despite all illusion 
To change 
Yet am my heart is strong 
Still am holy to nature 

My heart 
Grudges I refuse to bear 
Grief yes sometimes it comes
For that not my making 
Time pass 
Ticking as it pass with a mark
All not so good
So some time I fear 
Some time am brave 
Human with a soul 
Am not an accept ion 
As time after time 
Life teach me his beautiful nature 
As also the ugly it leaves not 
Despite all 
this heart of mine 
Stay strong 
Still am holy to nature 

My heart 
As always am at peace 
With my person 
Only the soul I bear 
Know better the reason 
This songs now I sing
Always cant be with out 
Coming from 
My heart 

Copyright © richard nnoli | Year Posted 2015

Details | Senryu |

Somber Thanksgiving- Hospital bedside mourning The turkey has passed
.

Copyright © Virginia Mitchell | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Peace comes in the morning after grief has run its course. The sorrow of loss gives way to happy memories. Memories bring smiles and laughter, replacing tears, healing the hurting heart. We give thanks for the years we had. In honor of our cat, Max. RIP 8/10/16 Shadorma syllable count 3/5/3/3/7/5

Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |
FIFA V The Poppy
by Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
& a poetry soup honourably mentioned poet

I wrote the following poem, when I heard FIFA were going to fine England, Scotland and Wales for wearing a poppy symbol on their football strip when they played matches.  The Red poppy being symbolic and worn  not only in remembrance of those who died in two world wars, but those who are injured in conflicts throughout the world where our brave service people are stationed in this modern day and age.  The making of poppies gives work to military people who have themselves been injured.  The money raised by the British Legion helps the living who unfortunately are not themselves able to run on the sports fields as those footballers we all like to see, especially if we support a particular team.

The red poppy is symbolic.
Of brave military men and women too.
Who sacrifice their lives.
For mistakes, politicians do.
To say the Poppy is political.
Is stupid to extremes.
And if FIFA think that it is.
Their heads must be full of dreams.
Men and women died.
In millions in case you did forget.
To save us all from Nazi rule.
Did FIFA really forget?

When I wear a poppy!
I think of brave military people everywhere.
In small boats on the sea at Dunkirk!
On the Somme battlefields, some are still buried there.
Do I think of failed politics?
No, never, I declare.

So all you FIFA officials!
Sitting in your comfy chairs!
Remember all those dead souls.
Allowing you to still sit there.
Without their brave actions.
And final sacrifice.
You would not be doing what you do.
And that’s not something nice.
We will never forget them.
Even if you do!
For God, Queen and country!
But not for blinking you!

I did send this by email to FIFA surprisingly they have not acknowledged its receipt.

Copyright © STANLEY Harris | Year Posted 2017