Death Anniversary Poems | Examples
These Death Anniversary poems are examples of Anniversary poems about Death. These are the best examples of Anniversary Death poems written by international poets.
The Black Sea of Hostility**
I express no willingness to engage in the metaphorical black sea of hostility. It is a misconception to believe that individuals are born with fractured souls; rather, such conditions develop throughout one’s life.
One enters this world devoid of sin, possessing innate virtues and qualities. However, I am not inclined to accept an invitation to your table, where the tablecloth is whiter than the pristine blanket of snow on Monsanto Lake. I will not participate in such gatherings.
Your opulent Gorham silverware glimmers, reminiscent of clusters of grapes hanging from a mountain. Nevertheless, I remain disinterested in both swimming in this sea or dining at a table rooted in animosity.
The children raised in this environment are instructed to disdain the clergy. Meanwhile, violence stains the streets of northern communities as politicians indulge in lavish dinners costing $2,000 per plate. One must question who is safeguarding the gates of moral decay.
The realm of politics is indeed tumultuous.
Two years ago, I went into debt to try to save you.
But you passed away anyway, it's sad and it's true.
I paid thirteen hundred dollars with my credit card.
When it came to facing your death, it sure was hard.
When it came to saving your life, I certainly tried.
But sadly, on the seventeenth of August, you died.
It doesn't bother me because I went into debt.
What does bother me is that I lost a great pet.
You were only six years old and you had no future ahead.
I said goodbye two years ago today when I found you dead.
[Dedicated to Puppy (2017 - 2023) who passed away two years ago today on August 17, 2023]
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## Pride (Abhiman)
The fire of your memories that ignited,
Our first meeting was grand, the conversation colorful, the mood delightful.
Slowly, time took a turn,
Asking if struggle gives voice to the river, the ocean's wave?
What will your voice be if you're insignificant, whom will you call out to?
The fault of ages, this ongoing drama,
Neither of us is conscious. You'd sob at the thought of losing me, losing your senses.
With you in my arms, I do some counting.
Today, the situation is such that during the day I'm writing the account of our moments by the clock's chime.
At night, I wander, counting money, counting stars – day or night, both are precious.
I just keep my heart in this body's shell, I pray for the one who brought us together.
Whether you talk or not, you have one thing, and I have one too.
Death is inevitable, my death will come with the recognition of my name. Don't you worry,
Just live with my pride.
With love to all,
Om Jagdish Bajantri (Mahabharamnad)
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When Dad got Leukemia, he put up a fight.
He took chemo but lost his battle 12 years ago tonight.
After months of taking chemotherapy, he died.
He couldn't beat cancer even though he tried.
He died less than two hours before the fourteenth of July.
He was a good provider and that's something I can't deny.
When a person loses a parent, it's always sad.
Twelve years ago, I had to say goodbye to Dad.
[Dedicated to Charles F. Johnson (1947-2013) who died 12 years ago tonight on July 13, 2013]
My Wonderful Wife
Here — the one who bears the fruit of my loins.
Here — the cheerleader of my flawed bravado.
Here — the bearer of the yoke of my incessant brokenness.
Here — the moon that shines, irrespective of the season.
Here — the one true bridge between life and death.
Here — the one who foils the foul that confounds my soul.
Here — the woman who accepted the task of furthering my fate.
Cheers to you, my wonderful wife —
You are my anchor,
My light,
My forever.
You were my baby doll and I owned you for almost seven years.
You were my all time favorite dog and I wish you were still here.
You were very special, wonderful and unique.
When I found you dead, it was sad and bleak.
I had to dig a hole and bury you in the ground.
I would be happier if you were still around.
You lost all of your teeth but I still loved you.
I'll never forget you and that is certainly true.
[Dedicated to Agnes (2011-2020) who died five years ago today on July 11, 2020]
He was a terrific and skilled Italian chef.
Forty years ago, he took his final breath.
On June the 21st of 1985, Ettore Boiardi passed away.
He was born in Borgonovo Val Tidone, Italy and moved to the USA.
At the age of 16, he arrived at Ellis Island on a French ship.
Now millions are eating his food because he took that trip.
He turned out to be a businessman who was shrewd.
People ate at his restaurant and they loved his food.
It was natural causes that caused Boiardi's death.
Millions are thankful because of that Italian chef.
[Dedicated to Ettore Boiardi (1897-1985) who died on June 21, 1985]
LIFE
Youth gives us sparkle and energy, we are invincible, strong with memory.
Life’s chapters open and close, some long, some brief or quick dose.
The episodes get grayer as we cruise through junctions, while continuing with purpose.
Life is a voyage, full of bumps, tears, laughs and memories
Our world can change in the blink of an eye.
Forks in the road, which path to follow, hesitating to make a decision.
Humans, like the revolving seasons, will change, the journey differs for all
The aging process, a percentage of survivors persist.
Life’s road is a passage, this existence, how we each deal with the distance.
Looking back at our journey, those emotions we encountered
Love, fear, helplessness, anger, heartache, contentment and excitement.
Life differs for all on the trek we travel, where does the time fly to?
Cherish and embrace the good, learn from mistakes, gain strength to carry on.
On this highway we travel, may it be trouble free with the kiss of good health,
Until the day we die.
"Across our childhood’s street we trod on carpet lawn and holy sod. We walked along where some had prayed. Where once we played, he now is laid." From my poem "Where Once We Played"
There’s an old, large graveyard in my home town.
We would not go there if chill winds would wail.
In summer though its rows we would walk down.
It’s also where we buried dear, young Dale.
My brother Dale and I would ride bikes where
we'd see tombstones from many years ago.
I never dreamed so soon he'd be put there
one winter day as down from sky fell snow.
We’ve all moved on, and no one is around
where bones of Dale have lain for forty years
since he was placed into that cold, hard ground
and we stood there – our faces wet with tears.
Deep in Greenwood Cemetery, no hole
holds him, for in heaven resides his soul.
The parties were in full swing.
The doorbell rang, yet no one knew it.
In that instant, everything changed for the party guests.
Speak softly, lean in closer, and turn down the volume.
A sudden death—another soul has taken its last breath.
Did he pass the test? Sniffing cocaine, he choked,
Dust scattering across his desk.
What a mess!
This was his life; he surrendered to cocaine—
Cocaine was his guilty pleasure.
Have you ever witnessed their souls diving into the sea?
It's too late for cleansing.
The drip, drip, drip of blood dissolves into the sea.
This evokes a different philosophy—
The devil’s philosophy.
Thirty years ago today, millions of people were surprised.
Christopher Reeve fell off a horse and he was paralyzed.
Reeve's accident occurred on May the 27th of 1995.
The accident didn't kill him, he was able to survive.
He survived for nine years and he spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair.
Life was once great for Christopher but his life became so unfair.
When he had his accident, he was paralyzed from the neck down.
When he died, I felt sad because he would no longer be around.
Even though Reeve got hurt, he didn't give up, he went on with his life.
We had to say goodbye to him and we had to say goodbye to his wife.
People were devastated when his life came to an end.
Christopher wasn't just an actor, he was also a friend.
[Dedicated to Christopher Reeve (1952-2004) who died on October 10, 2004]
If Walls Could Talk
By Alice Maraglia
I often wondered what the walls would say
after hearing conversations day after day.
Would there be laughter, screaming even sadness?
Generations of families living within these walls
tell the stories of those who have come and gone.
Was there, a death, an engagement perhaps a fall?
Did you hear about the affair he or she had that year?
Oh, the secrets of those whose lives held dear.
Did she run away, or stay? Who's kid was it anyway?
Now comes the paint. Will I be blue, yellow or green?
The darker the color hides all the stains.
When a new tenant arrives they won't know, what to do.
If I could talk, I'd tell them a thing or two.
Everyone will sleep forever one day
People will forget that you were here
Inside your grave will you slumber alone in a pong
To be born is to die halfway
After that everything goes eternally black
Prayers will be said on your burial
Hovering in blackness will now be your new job
I had a green parakeet and Sparkle was his name.
When he died thirty-five years ago, it was a shame.
On the last day of April, I found him dead in his cage.
I bought him in 1981 and he died of old age.
My one parakeet outlived three blue parakeets that belonged to my mother.
Sparkle was my one and only parakeet, when he died, I did not buy another.
I owned my parakeet for over nine years and he was a great pet.
He died 35 years ago today and he was a bird who I'll never forget.
(Dedicated to Sparkle who died 35 years ago today on April 30, 1990)
Selena was a singer and she has been dead for three decades.
She was very talented and was murdered after being betrayed.
A former friend gunned Selena down.
She died and is buried in the ground.
The killer worked for Selena and she decided to steal.
After that lady was fired for theft, she decided to kill.
That terrible woman deserved to lose her job.
Selena didn't deserve to die or to be robbed.
It's sad to know that Selena is gone forever.
If you're wondering when she'll be forgotten, the answer is never.
[Dedicated to Selena Quintanilla-Perez (1971-1995) who was killed 30 years ago today on March 31, 1995]