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Elegy Tribute Poems | Elegy Poems About Tribute

These Elegy Tribute poems are examples of Elegy poems about Tribute. These are the best examples of Elegy Tribute poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Elegy |

The Last Gold Leaf

The last gold leaf hangs on the bough;
summer is just a memory now.
You, too, have gone, my golden friend;
our summer days came to an end.

We said goodbye; our chapter closed.
How I will miss you no one knows.
On eagle wings you split the skies;
your spirit soared. You had to fly.

My earthbound soul will bear its grief
severed from you on mortal reef;
but returning from yonder shore,
your love in waves will wash me o'er.

You've gone before, my trusted love;
I wait behind, your mourning dove;
yet, from across the great divide
your voice to me in dreams confides.

No, I think not that dreams they are;
but communion of the near with far.
On such sweet songs I stake my claim
to know and love you once again.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |

A Tribute to Robin Williams

A good man's gone, loved by us all
on the screen both big and small.

The fire is cold, the lights are out.
His soul's moved on, without a doubt.

The laughter's gone that masked the pain.
The house is still and peace does reign.

He fought his battles on life's wild ride,
but lost his war with the demons inside.

How can one thrive on acclaim and wealth
without the love of one's own self?

I hope you found the peace you sought.
The life you lived won't be forgot.

July 5, 2015

Copyright © Janece Terry | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |


Strange shadows on these coral walls
stay hidden from the setting sun, 
yet creeping through the shafts of amber light
drag behind them to the high parapet
a cloak of utter darkness.

Fierce defended, now are none:
no frightened men to urge the heavy cannon round
no shrill alarm or battle cries;
the end of this, as every other day has sealed
a silence now complete.

Once we held here, on this foreign shore, 
the fortress of our childhood dreams
and all the world’s assaults
seemed nothing then;
an ocean  breeze would cool the hurt of falling
and bring sweet scents to pick us up again.

Across the bay the dhows set sail upon a rising tide
their canvass spread against the purple sky.
We watched their leaving long ago
but you are gone away now, gone to  sleep
and no injured soul so left alone
can wait to watch them home again.

Yet I will stand, a little or a while, 
and  will not fear cold shadows rising 
nor while breathing yield the fort to them;
in every breach I meet your laughing eyes
and feel the warming of remembered suns.

Copyright © Florian Beauchamp | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy |

I Wonder

Did the winds and waves obey
All good wishes
On that fateful, "Goodbye" day?

Did you reach that distant shore?
And did you find
Whatever you were looking for?

Did stars help steer your course?
And did you see
Beyond the sun, a greater force?

Did you locate that secret door?
Did you unlock
Great mysteries - long held in store?

I Wonder...

Copyright © Robert Haigh | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |


I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch

Tall and quiet,serene and cool
politeness was her rule

I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch

Feminine in manner and mien
an example upon our scene

I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch

Her eyes filled with grace
she will be missed in fellowship's place

I did not know her well
but in me this impression dwells

....there was a warmth in her touch

I shook Doreen's hand in welcome at the door of our church last Sunday morning,she died in 
her sleep on Sunday night, aged eighty-six.She had attended our Time out for Seniors(our 
church's monthly community lunch/fellowship ) where I sometimes joined her & her friend  for 
the meal part.She lived in a local care home and started coming to our church within the last 

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009

Details | Elegy |

I Will Welcome You

You had the spirit of a stallion.
You could not be tamed until you were ready 
and no matter how life may have tried you could not be broken.
You brought a piece of something that many did not possess to every life,
and when you opened your mouth unearthly words of wisdom were spoken.
You were strong and beautiful and had the deepest blue eyes I've ever seen. 
The love that you held in your heart was like something out of dream,
almost unreal.
It was love and confidence and support and stability you made me feel. 
God blessed me by letting me be a part of you.
I am so happy that our lives crossed paths and you helped see me through. 
Now you are in His memory, waiting to be raised.
When you live again, your mind will be clear.
The fog will be lifted. 
There will be no haze. 
You will run about and never die. 
You will feel no pain or fear, never cry.
Your days will be filled with love, strong and true. 
Your last words to me were I love you.
Here I wait, just trying to get through. 
I will see you again, Grandma.
Into my arms, I will welcome you.

Copyright © Misty Hoot | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy |


                                        Elegy to Child Lost

                                 Passion's love oft tempts despair
                                 Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
                                 Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
                                 Babe snug beneath a mother's breast

                                Senses at this time are keen
                                There's no secret kept between
                                Loving mother, wriggling babe--
                                Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
                                But entwined twin was also loved--
                                Some say Nature's method proves
                                That one twin may give all to mate---
                                But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.

                                Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
                                or sense those legs that wandered miles
                                And daring feet that danced in tunes while
                                Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.

                                When babe vanished--not  a sound.
                                Mother 's grief was not allowed.
                                Tempted so to trail behind
                                Escaping shattered troubled mind. 

                                Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
                                She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
                                Never spoke of-- never mourned.
                                By her husband she was warned
                                Was best forget a child so early lost--
                                Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--

                                But the years have called babe near,
                                Mother's journal writ in tears:
                                'Please forgive my selfish heart.
                                Repressed from all --this tragic part
                                I felt your sacrificial act--
                                You left your cherished twin intact'.

                                There is no law of random acts
                                Doctors examine data facts
                                It may be --that in the womb
                                When both spring flowers cannot bloom
                                One bold twin refrains to eat
                                Compels the other to complete
                                Hardy growth that life requires---
                                Sparks survival's crucial hours.

                                Not an accident 'tis sure--
                                Boldest spirits blossom pure.

Victoria Anderson-Throop ©

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy |


I've trained for this. 
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in
on the line-
I see them clearly now-
My wife, my child-
smiling, cheering
as they urge me
through the echoes
of feet smacking
through my 
tunneled view of
the victory line,
through my exhaustion,
through my pain.

I've trained for this.
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in on my targets.
Thousands! There are many!
I can see them clearly now-
a woman, a child-
smiling, cheering
as I slip past
and drop my bags.
And now I am
through the 
smoke and through the
screams as runners push
toward the finish line
without legs.

I've trained for this.
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in
on the scene.
175, 176...
I see them clearly now-
the woman, the child-
lifeless, bleeding
as they urge me
through echoes 
of feet smacking
through my
tunneled view of 
torment and death and
I can do nothing but
hold their hand.

Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |

The Lament For an Angel

All in one faded-black day (but let None forget) In my arms, her body lay (my life was the price to pay) A tragedy, through the lack of humanly shame (do they know pain) My darkly colleen has to suffer no more (Robert nor do you) Let me die (please hear my haunted cries) If I can not see Sophie tonight (live on with my grey) I'm just a mess of despairing words And broken nerves Another mourning, afflicted sight (through decay, love can remain) Solace, sympathy are just more lies She is all I need Until you decide she is just another sadist's toy My Angel, why did you have to fly so far away My Angel, just let one feather stay My Angel has flown away My Angel, why did you have to fly so far away My Angel, just let one feather stay My Angel has flown away (My body is amortal, die I may, Together, our hearts will forever stay)

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Nazm |

An Elegy for Syria

After so many countries, now in Syria,
Increasing is the western bacteria,

The bacteria of hypocrisy and lies,
Which is in a dangerous disguise,

Under the banner of help and peace,
They seems like a white fleece,

They do things very secretly,
Pursuing interests very actively,

What they want is just conflicts?
In the entire world's districts,

They like when people kill each other,
Its how indirectly they do smother,

Try to understand that what is a war?
Because it opens up the profits door,

For the imperialists and dictators,
And of course their very own creators,

When imperialists start a war,
They make sure that its paid for,

So they pose to help by selling arms,
As if they are selling them charms,

In return of arms they make money,
So much that its not even funny,

On the other hand people also die,
In the region where they don't comply,

They want the entire world to obey,
Their orders and want them to say okay!

As long as one stays this way,
A nice attitude they will display,

But for instance if one says "NO" to them,
At first they get angry and hem,

And then come bans and sanctions,
Penalties all kinds of aggressions,

And still if they are not successful,
They wage a war to make stressful,

So that's what they did in Syria,
It was their anger and hysteria,

Because they couldn't do anything,
And through a war they wanted to sting,

But they forgot that who they are facing,
And what kind of a enemy they are racing?

They already are, their army, replacing,
And because of defeats they are reducing,

The Takfiri terrorists they brought in,
Are ruthless and not even human,

They are ripping chests of people,
And eating their hearts like animal,

So west and its cruel tactics,
Has nothing to do with the ethics,

So once and for all everyone,
Let's finish savagery which has begun.

All rights are reserved. Syed Imon Rizvi

Copyright © Syed Imon Rizvi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |


-For Prince

Black onyx handsome, 
Small is beautiful, 
Soft campy creature, 
Definite in feature, 
All chiseled, boned, 
Talents honed,  
And used for a king's ransom.

A royal purple mist,
Rained down on fans.
A thousand in the cast,
(He's never going to last).
Sing, Hip hop, do yer dance,
It's really yer last chance; 
And maybe you'll be missed.

Let's do! Let's go crazy! 
Count sheep, fall asleep,
Red flag, Swag dance, Sweet feet!  
Tap it, Rap it, on a side street.
Keepers, weepers, of the dark,
One chance to make yer mark.
Sigh or sing, no time to be lazy!

Speed of light, day or night,
You know time can't be defined.
Check it off, count loves, 
Hope you hear the cry of doves. 
Yer wanting all yer extra time, 
Kiss it in yer billboard climb;
A nanosecond dove in flight.

Burning up your axe,
Ending up an icon, 
Pay your ticket, seeum, 
In Hollywood's museum. 
Paisley is the handle,
Stiff, dripping like a candle,
Just a manikin in wax. 

No birthday's, no gray, or wrinkle.
In purple paper, wrap a lost chord!
You float above a cherry moon, 
Wing it, sing it, it's your last tune.
Spirit vaporized, name that's canonized,
And all your data to be analyzed. 
Precious purple, a periwinkle sprinkle.

Always cry for love, never cry for pain;  
Elevé, do rise, caught up, surprised!
Don't stare sleeping there,
Death upon the stair.
No liquor, no last flicker, 
No barcode, no heart quicker, 
An April snow has left you sleeping in the rain. 

By Edlynn Nau 
© April 23, 2016

Copyright © Edlynn Nau | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy |

Where are you

You flourished and blurred
like a spark on wind

Gracefully and quickly like a frightened hind
in pursuit of light

You harvested through bushy meadows
taken by blight

In struggle with plight
had you lost your might

And gave out
although never you gave up.

Where are you?
For you must be still there.

For I still can feel you
somewhere in the air.

Copyright © Lukasz Walterowicz | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy |

If you were to ask me the definition of sorrow:

I would answer by saying that it is the absence of your fathers earthshaking glance at the dawn of an unpredictable night. I would answer by saying that it is the acknowledgment of the neglected truth, that life is nothing but a series of scenes in an indisposed screenplay. And that death is the anticipated protagonist, a patient gift disgustingly disguised underneath the smiles of all that which we think brings us happiness.

Copyright © Jeffrey Feghaly | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |

Elegy for Neil

Our great Balboa has left the hillock bare
And two waters converge in evening mist
Where from our vision he made us stare
As the divided dimensions rose and kiss
So sleep the sailor, so sleep the caravel
So sleep great Balboa, toll, toll your knell. 
              A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
              Winter is for children play, and for hubris.

The navy man has taken his golden wings
On glinted them against the silvery dusk
The eagle rising fro the earth sweetly sings
On dust-rock horizon where triumphs husk
The veil that cover human tears and fears
With tragedy that all mass and matter wears
              A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
              Winter is for children play, and for hubris.

So Balboa, remember your craft on one engine
The sound barrier rescinded, brings you to earth
The grave has no remembering, O the final spin
That undo all dream of birth! fair Deist now inert
Shall only watching moon alert us of this memory
The great walk that expanded the edge of history?              
               A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
               Winter is for children play, and for hubris.

Conquistador of the modern world, great sailor
What tribes did you subjugate beyond Korea, tell
What corn you planted, what gold in your valor,
What new dominions now your great spirit swell?
I hear Darien laughing in the silence of the moon
I see the caparisoned horse, and the taps balloon 
                 A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
                 Winter is for children play, and fo hubris

They come, they come, stolid mourners slowly
The riderless horse ignorant you are gone, gone
Forever, grief bowed us, and pride lingers greatly
Thanking you for gyral cycle of an ambitious dawn.
But Balboa do you hear them, can you see tears
Can you reverse the plunder of the vernal years?
                A sprig of spring is all autumn's surprise
                Winter is for children play, and for hubris

Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy |

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

Copyright © Shakeela Kingzley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |

Tribute To Horatio Nelson



Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |

Back Door Side Door Front Door : Which door might a Confucian take

                   for René Etiemble  (Jan. 26, 1909 – Jan. 2002)*


 Barely a few speechless moments before your first words

           burned the « Coplas por la muerte de su padre » :


            ‘Nuestras vidas son los ríos       

       que van a dar en la mar,

       que es el morir ;


       y llegados, son iguales

       los que viven por sus manos         

       y los ricos.’


      Is the open back door which emboldens courage

No untarnished name to be remembered by

No selfless mate to lay by your honour

       No issue laying about themselves for your prize


       Decidedly it was a door of stealth

As if choosing it  you let it be known

you were only merely passing by

       and stopped to hang your hat here for a while


Yet you let your kin and callers believe

      your whims were worth putting up with

      your mischievous tantrums and gripes

merely the mental athlete’s unwinding antics


The poïetic birth pangs of imminent glory

      just the mounting stones in the monumental lighthouse

that ages from hence would pick forth

      your works  your unfathomable literary resource


You upheld dozens who did leave behind a name

     a lasting name  not quite torn from solitary pain

Yet who could deny you could have bettered their fame 

     What undisclosed pain you harboured in your brain


Oh so strangely were you endowed with the intelligence

     of the Chun Tzu - that uncanny eagle’s scan

To rout out of the mazes of your students’ past lives

      just that one passqge through their Tierra del Fuego


But then you who completely espoused the rigours

      of that step by step mounting of respectful steps

Were unsparing in your demands of adherence

      to old Master Kung’s hierarchical obedience


An open hand ready to sign any cheque

      to succour the caller’s needs

     was alas ! also the whip hand

To keep the renegades in constant check


You were possessed of a rare brand of anger

      which shook the land about you

At those who bent justice to their unsavoury will        

      such thunder boiled from the guts of the earth


Now you’re gone and empty lecture halls echo your

     uncontainable ire where forged resounding silence

You said at the start of a seminal master-seminar :

     « Nul n’est prophète dans son pays ! »        


With the distaff side hanging on your every word

     wondering if your plans were for something yet undone


No stray notes lie about to record your travail

     No visible correspondence to make it all credible

Only books and books  files magazines and books

     and an overcrowdedly conquered mental pad                                    

jumbled words scratched into shaded inchoate sketches

     ganglia synapses   shot-up neurons


     no clues to a ragingly flailing mind

           none to record the lives you succoured

                   nor even the beneficiaries’ hurriedly scribbled thanks

          nor besides to the beclouding relations with one and all

                 not even a hint at why you may have refused

                        to forge a name beyond the beaten path of fame


Would going by the front door

in a fanfare of tv talkshows conference papers prize-giving ceremonies paper- interviews in ample studied poses and thoughts for future auto-memoirs volume one to seven the rest put-together posthumously in an omnibus

expurgated version with prefaces notes introductions critiques eulogies


          would it have been less like you

                                          to exit by the side-door   

the baywindow leading to reflected glory

     in a cool cloister of loosened leaves

stray poems in the tradition of your schooled masters


or did you burn them all

                                                in a fit of (cou)rage

     tore them to bits   incinerated by your fiery mind 

                     or squashed within yesterday’s leftovers


not caring who thought what

                     the mocking condescension




* The late Professor René Etiemble held the Chair of Comparative Literature at the old, pre-1968 Sorbonne University but retired in 1978 while a professor at the Sorbonne-Nouvelle University. In later life, he even refused nomination to the French Academy of Letters, though he did accept the Academy’s Prize. He was a prolific critic, essayist, and memorialist, having published some poetry and three novels. A renowned linguist and grammarian (a graduate of the prestigious and elite Ecole Normale Supérieure de Paris), he remained until his very last days an inveterate Sinophile. He edited the Gallimard-instituted UNESCO oriental literary classics series, a fitting tribute to his encyclopaedic learning.

© T.Wignesan,  6 novembre 1997, Fresnes-94, France  (from the collection : Poems Omega Minus, Paris, 2002)


Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy |


He sang of nature wild and free
and rode the waves upon the sea.

Found wonder in a bird in flight
and stargazed during the dark of night.

Somewhere above the muse still sings,
lifted high on celestial wings.

His soul flies over the eagle's nest,
as mortal remains are put to rest.

Riding the wind and sky above,
he sings his songs of home and love.

Country roads and apple pie;
he's left the earth to soar the sky.

Released from every earthly care,
I know he's found his mountains there.

The songwriter's gone but the music lives on.

July 5, 2015

Copyright © Janece Terry | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |

war regret

Our brothers were born upside down
They were conceived by mistake.....and 
our fathers choose to call them prodigal

Who would have thought as much?
With their faces beaming with smiles as 
their foreheads shone bright with promising future,
There names we never wished to forget because
 they made us live reciting it again and again
But they ended up stamped on grave stones just because 
they were too obedient to pick up the gun and had gone

Now we wished they weren’t born at all
We wished they hadn’t picked up the gun but run
We wished we were wishes
We wouldn’t have wished war.

Copyright © victor nwakanma | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |



Theirs too, was a journey of blood, flowing 
From shores of seas to beds of rivers:
Filling pitchers of freedom overflowing
With captured liberties and unshackled free spirits
Rising above the river banks of the deltas’ terrors

Yet the remains are merely dry bones
Of unsung heroes
Resting here in scripture based echoes:

     From dust thou cometh,
     To dust thou returneth

For them, there are no eloquent epitaphs;
No stone monuments to greet the seasons:
Only praises of the wounded hearts of heirs.

In these times, only chosen popular ones,
Are given the stone monuments with
Curious cold chiseled epitaphs.

The sacrificed lives of the unknown poor,
Remain simple reflections of churchyard graves.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |

Elegy For My Father

Godwin Adizue Ibeh 

Mr. Godwin Adizue Ibeh
Aged 76 years
Was and is 
My beloved, doting father
“Is” because he remains
Spiritually present 
In my memory
In pictures and mementos 
In my dreams, smiles and tears 
In my prayers and imagination
His spirit 
Hovers in the air
Above me like a hummingbird
His presence felt 
At the mere mention 
Of his name 
Mr. Godwin Ibeh 
Or simply “Daddy” 
As I used to, and still
Lovingly call him
Or "Prof" by close friends
And acquaintances alike
Was a Nigerian-born
Naturalized American citizen
Migrated to the United States of America
In 1968
A bearer of many titles
Hobbies and accomplishments
An alumnus of Central State University
Wilberforce, Ohio. Graduated in 1970
With a BA in Psychology
An alumnus of Xavier University Graduate School
Cincinnati, Ohio. Graduated in 1975
With an MS in Correctional Psychology
An alumnus of University of Nigeria
Where he also taught Psychology in 1981
Received a PhD in Education
Specializing in Guidance and Counseling
He also moonlighted as a probation officer
A writer and a taxi driver
A father of four 
First-generation African-American children
From oldest to youngest
Yours truly, Edward 
A grandfather of three
A father-in-law of two
A former-husband 
Of my beloved mother, Rose
An avid collector of hats
A voracious reader 
And collector of books
A lover
Of jazz and classical music
An intellectual
A sage
A mensch 
His personality
Avuncular, warm, and humorous
His smile
Radiant, brightly beautiful, beautifully bright
His laugh
Honest and infectious
His mouth
Spoke no evil
His destination 
For he’s a child of God
And has led 
A good, successful, fulfilled life
Gone, but never 
Will be forgotten
Rest in peace, Dad
I will miss you...

Copyright © Edward Ibeh | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |


On that unhappy morning
The sad sun refuses 
To shine on earth
The sky grumbles in pains
Just to announce the news

Sorrow and agony flit pin me
When I felt the bitter taste of death
The sour crisp wine 
I hold him at high esteem
Oh! Death 
Why stretch thou 

Thy cold hand on him
In deed a tree has fallen
Oh! Our beloved PAPA!
I hope to see you again
On the harvest day
When the new earth shall come

(By Opurum Precious: Nigeria)
Copyright © odiboy 2016

Copyright © Precious Opurum | Year Posted 2016

Details | Elegy |

18th July - Tribute To The Departed Soul Of My Mother On Her 10th Death Anniversary

Ten years passed Maa, you left this world leaving me alone
but still I feel your presence, your tender touch, quietly lying in bed, I moan.
Always you were concerned, who will take care of me in your absence
today none is there to worry for me, in their lives, I have no importance.

Still I find myself holding your coffin, sitting by your lifeless body, on that ill-fated day,
I touched your hands and feet, cold as ice, unable to come out of dismay.

A heavenly peace on your face, comfortably sleeping, from all worldly sufferings you were away.
I cried, but never could wake you up, couldn't believe your sweet face could ever decay.

Sometimes, at leisure when I look at the sky on a peaceful night,
Sitting in my 'Hanging Garden on a lonely night beneath the serene moonlight,
I can hear your melodious voice, the songs you sang for me
Those priceless moments we spent together, lying on our terrace amidst
Shiuli, Jasmine and Hasnahana tree.

I was a teenager, blooming to be a beautiful young girl, bidding my childhood adieu,
You were proud of my beauty and talents, I was lucky to inherit from you.

You dressed me up beautifully each time I celebrated my auspicious days
You made me feel I'm the most gorgeous girl, confident in your praise.

Our children were brought up in your love and care
You once again proved to be a great grandmother.
You taught them how to live life in faith and prayer
always been pious and a true God lover.

You are the best mother ever I have met, a blessing from above
A Godly image of sacrifice, benevolence and abundance of love.
I've ne'er seen a greater animal lover, flowing water of love from a ceaseless cascade.

I've seen you taking care of sick kith and kin in their last days
Forgiving the evil they unleashed on you, you nursed them with a smiling face.
I salute your virtue of forgiveness and the Spirit of caring for your enemies,
I believe you're enjoying with our Lord in Heaven
dwelling with angels and heavenly bodies!

Copyright © Manimala Basu | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |


Even with your witty strength 
The little input of the labor 
Of your mouth making the living 
Smile away sorrow through jest of jaw,
As you sleep for too long today,
Wondering if there will ever be 
Another dawn for you to sneeze
And squint your eyelids as
One gulping a cup full of reddish
Cameroon pepper during harmattan
Good to say goodnight as the sleep deepens
Though your name not boldly engraved
In the hearts of many, as the giant in you 
Earlier slept off before you also 
Joined to sleep and never to wake up anymore 
A poem written by Uche ken Okologo. 4/30/2013

Copyright © OKOLOGO UCHE KEN | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |

Madiba has gone

In him 
We had a brother
A father
In long walk
In long walk 
We had a hero
with fears
with tears
We had brave man
In our- cowards'
We had bright face
In the dark of nights
We had his grace
Of heart
In agony of hates
We had his faith
In rages of miseries
In moments
Of doubts
A servant for his nation
We had

Madiba has gone
And past
In peace

What he gave
For nation great
dreams in future
In peace

Madiba has gone
And past in peace
As a king
Crowned in his nation

What You were standing for
We will fight for
Anti evils of man
For peace
we will fight for
Son of Africa
Father for his nation

Lay in peace
Man who changed
the course of time
With faith
Nelson Mandela

Copyright © Sallam Yassin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Elegy |

Tidal Waves

I broke my foot, and you kissed me that night, in front of my car.
I could barely walk, but I floated away.
It all began and ended, as powerful as a hurricane.
What we had was taken too soon, and your mother didn’t approve. 
She never did like me much, but that didn’t stop you.
We blossomed, like a flower on a warm sunny day.
Until that fateful day when I heard the news.
There had been an accident. The driver didn’t see you.
Frozen in time, as I was informed of your demise.
I couldn’t move, as my heart sank to the depths of the cold dark ocean.
Frost bitten, as time stood still. 
Ship wrecked as my world came crashing down.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I couldn’t believe this was the end.
I couldn’t believe you were gone.
Emotion like waves crashing and turning.
By the time my foot healed, you were gone.
The funeral came and everything blurred together.
Your art on display, a museum dedicated to you.
Your mother, finally recognized me, as I looked over you laying there.
I’ll never forget the pain in her eyes, as she thanked me and apologized.
This ship has run aground, unable to ever sail again.

Copyright © Mike Beard | Year Posted 2017

Details | Elegy |

Elegy for a poet

(Dedicated to Carlos Bousono)

Without digressions and steadily 
You grew old like a river reaching the sea. 

As one who reaches the sea and the sand, 
you let go off the safety of the land. 

You fought the storms battling with age. 
Your spirit overcame. You turned a page. 

Your words became salty and filled with shells, 
drifting in light and drafted in spells. 

Young in its fervour, brother of the waves, 
your heart carried weight, wherever it braved. 

Wherever it braved, you came into being 
as when morning dawns and night is fleeing 

in the slimmest of lights, and you suddenly know 
a new day is born and you feel aglow. 

You reached old age undisturbed by chance 
with time for reflection and eager for balance, 

with a gift to listen, repent and find peace, 
as the sea waves receive, hold on and release. 

As the sea winds play with an errant dove 
may the Great Spirit enfold you with love, 

carry you, written in wind, salt and sea 
to Elysium’s infinite harmony. 

Copyright © Scharlie Meeuws | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy |

Tribute to John Denver

“I am a song that needs to be sung.”
Words by John Denver inscribed in Aspen.
While walking the path alongside the Rio Grande
A circle of stones in memory of John Denver does stand.

Inscribed on the rocks are the words of his songs.
They moved me deeply as I strolled along.
Realizing that I was in Aspen because I did spy
A tribute to John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High.

It sparked a desire to experience Aspen for myself.
Now here I am encircled with John Denver’s wealth.
I wasn’t a huge fan, but I did enjoy his songs.
His words stand tall beyond being written in stone.

I moved along the trail into an evergreen forest
Dwarfed by the pines as the river flows toward us.
Emotional connectivity with Aspen’s sheer mountain beauty.
Sitting on a rock in the river my only duty.

Feeling inspired to move again on the trail
An energy spoke to me; no words were entailed.
You are a song that needs to be sung
You are a bell that needs to be rung.

You are the newness of fresh mountain air
You are the energy of spring’s budding stare.
You are the eagle resting in its high nest
Ready to soar through the sky when the time is best.

You are the Rocky Mountain High
Colorado is the place for you to sigh.
Heave out the energy that is stored within
Sing your own song with a loving spin.

In gratitude I salute John Denver’s soul.
In the beauty of the Rockies, he continues his role.
Inspiring people to greater heights through his words.
Thank you, John Denver, for my heartfire heard.

Copyright © Margie Boehmer | Year Posted 2008

Details | Elegy |

Voices From The Sky

So sad So very, very sad Those voices from the sky So little time So much to say, In those Moments before they die So few So very, very few The words that said goodbye So far away So very, very far away… Yet heard…every whisper…every sigh So many… I love you’s so many stifled cries So many pauses…so many tear-filled eyes So lovely So very, very lovely Those precious words from on high So silent So very, profoundly silent After that last goodbye Those last “I love you’s, Tell the kids I love them too We’ll meet again… me and you” Phones gently So, so gently Laid down and moved aside So hard So very, very hard to leave Those voices from the sky Let's Roll!!

Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2012

Details | Elegy |

A tribute to my Father

  Who is a Father?
  He is the Man who loves you the most
  He cares for you as much as he can
  All through out his life!

   He works hard all his life
   Just to see a little smirk on your face
   He goes overboard bringing you things
   Till his last breath he gives you the strength
   To carry on and to love,care and share!

   So after his death you have to remember..
   All the times he bruised his feet trying to get
   You that special"ducky" in that hidden cabinet
   You should cherish his every word and deed
   His life must you cherish and pray for
   His happiness and wellbeing in the Life after!

Copyright © Seema Ali | Year Posted 2009