Best Bereavement Poems
Grim fog, I praise the shelter of your drear,
the sundown ghost morose not grandiose,
I walk alone - but, no -- with my despair;
a bittern bids a bitter adiós.
The breakers so in agony they gnash
and gnaw the strand with thrash of foamy green,
the tempest witch brings ironfisted lash
alas, the eye-of-storm epiphany unseen.
Free, free! The tern who flies in Gemini
above beloved peak and shore and wave,
sun-painted wings, away you went -- so spry,
so fierce! Bluebird pierced and buried in your grave,
..and the stars understand; a fateful fall into the sea --
Damn the deep! It’s jostle docile.. my scream to meet the scree!
Susan Ashley
June 29, 2021
~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mille 11
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Contemporary Sonnet
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
*bittern: any of several tawny brown herons
*scree: an accumulation of weathered rock fragments at the foot of a cliff
*a Modern / Contemporary Sonnet is a poem of 14 lines addressing any theme of the poet's choosing. It does not need to adhere to any set rhyme scheme, syllable count or meter, nor does it need to include a volta. The only true requirement of a modern sonnet is that it consists of 14 lines*
She wept as they buried her one true love.
Each day thereafter she brought him a rose,
the flower she knew he was fondest of.
Her grief unbearable, beyond repose.
What pain and suffering his death bestows.
Nothing prevented her daily visit.
She didn't want him to feel all alone.
When beside him her face was exquisite.
When weary she would sigh and then lay prone,
weeping for her love in soft languished moan.
There, in restless sleep, flames of love still burned
'til the twilight hour, when she felt a chill
as the gentle warmth of sunlight adjourned.
She heard a dove singing a mourning trill,
begetting heartache's tears to flow and spill.
November 3, 2022 ~ 2022 Marathon Mile 19 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally written on 23rd of July 2016
Three Stanzas of English Quintain, 10 syllables per line
with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-b
We buried him under the large yew tree,
We all wore thick face masks as they should be.
The shade of the green yew tree was pleasant.
Yet we all knew the poison there present.
It was not his wish to bury him there.
He died under the tree eating a pear.
Little bothering about deadly fumes
His mind elsewhere humming her loving tunes.
The yew yielded a deadly red berry,
Fell on the white pear, tasted like cherry.
They spied him there, dead, under the yew tree.
All left to enjoy the breath of the sea.
Bha e brèagha an-de
(It was Beautiful Yesterday)
There was a sailing vessel
With many a sail proudly lapping in the wind
A flag of the Celtic honor, in ruin an rented
As all the sailors sing
Of my love for you
From long ago
Before death became our friend
Oh would I be sailing from stormy seas to the Scottish glens
To lay some flowers at your side
Your beauty is now far under
My love ill wait for all eternity
For loves resurrection’s stormy thunder
Our bodies may be under stone
Our memories long lost in tales and fable
Let no man ever lay any such claim
Our love was not the gift of briny seaworthy fame
We be only stones, in a meadow blue
When you come upon our fate
Tiss with this verse, I state my case
The life that escaped our sadly date
Love though was true as sky
For long ago, she bid adieu
Her sadness at my drowning departure
As I her lover was told to be
Buried deep and under sea
Both sadness and the tossing waves
Took the life out of her and me
So when you look at fading stones
Remember the love that used to be
I know your spirit is finally free
when I scattered your ashes yesterday
Cancer has taken you away from me
solitude is now the price I must pay
When I scattered your ashes yesterday
I said adieu to the love of my life
Solitude is now the price I must pay
I’m now a widow, no longer a wife
I said adieu to the love of my life
I look to heaven and I question why
I’m left a widow, no longer a wife
as seagulls circle in bright azure sky
I look to heaven and I question why
cancer has taken you away from me
As seagulls circle in bright azure sky
I know your spirit is finally free
New Poems Only Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
16 lines, 10 syllables per line
FICTION POEM WRITTEN FOR CONTEST
4/12/18
O Winter, why this desolation? Trees, once verdant now stand bare
Flowers, long in hibernation; clouds that frown with ominous stare,
Bleak winds chill the rain-soaked bones and blow the leaves from yard to yard
Winter is for hardy souls whose skin is thick when life runs hard.
Come quickly, Spring, just weeks away, fulfill your promise: life anew
A ring to give, a vow to make, a oneness where there once were two
A fleeting, tragic, rain-drenched moment. One is gone, just one is left.
Foul Winter, taking one too soon, and leaving one too soon bereft.
Intrepid one - my dear, strong niece - you face the future minus one
Yet Spring is poised to soon return with yet another hope-filled sun
I throw a penny of good wishes in your fountain of love lost
What's this? Another penny there; another, and another tossed...
By end of week a million pennies tossed by those whose love pours out
A million small expressions of compassion for your winter drought
You're not alone, O precious one, you live enveloped by so many
Hope is winter's antidote; and love is spring's eternal penny.
Written the week my niece's 29-year-old fiance died in
an automobile accident, 2 months shy of their wedding day.
Written 8 Mar 2015
Tears no longer come,
dried ducts of wrung emotion,
denied one more drop of release.
... but only to feel
Feel your finite presence beside me,
inhaling your sweet scent to memory.
Feel your heart pulsate through the calfskin
of the despair that seals me in its snare.
Rhythms of a hopeless eternity of love,
not destined for us.
Feel my heart bleeding for one more glimpse,
of the exquisite life and love in your eyes.
Shuttered now from a lifetime of shared souls.
The pianist plays one last song,
as tears fall upon your coffin.
Won't you give me a sign,
to show me the way to you.
I wonder what has become of me,
my soul a definition of despair,
my mind a metaphor for insanity,
my heart silenced by the loss of your call.
Above, all I see are murky skies,
even the stars hide from me.
I'm sure the moon shed a tear,
when the sun refused to shine on me.
In the hope there is no tomorrow,
I lay here with your photograph on my pillow.
... but time ticks so slowly
__________________________________
A Collaboration - Silent One & Judith S.
September 21, 2018
"If I could have put you in my heart,
if but I could have wrapped you in myself,
how glad I should have been.
And now the chart
of memory unroils again to me.
The course of our journey here,
here where we part." D.H. Lawrence
Sunset descended behind the willow trees
Into the sea, it seemed to sink and drown
Alone and grieving, hair tousling in the breeze
for one there is no comfort to be found
as he sits staring at the gathering clouds
Lost in memories, overwhelmed with despair
Tears rain from weary reddened eyes
He's an abstract painting of desolation
brush strokes in shades of somber blue
No sunlight appears to brighten today's skies
Only darkness that comes from sad au Revoirs
No words of bereavement can he speak to express
the doleful depth of wistful loneliness
nor the solemn fathoms of elegiac emptiness
Melancholy looms half past midnight's darkest hour
There's a bitterness he swallows, acerbically sour
"This too shall come to pass," I remember to say ~
"In these days of forlorn sorrow
the world must seem hauntingly grim
each time you close your eyes and think of him"
I feel his angst from such an emotional loss
Against it his mind must be raging
Death has no compassion for the young of age
the kind ones who never hurt anyone
the bright ones whose light should never fade away
Weeping for Hazza, he lamentably grieves
watching storm tossed waves roll over angry seas
I hope there's truth in believing broken hearts mend
for the one who's been wounded and bleeding
as another sunset descends behind the willow trees
A wilted violet bows its pretty purple head,
Like me it has no energy as sorrow pleads.
My love, once so pure and vibrant now is dead.
My heart filled with passion, stilled, it bleeds.
I cannot bring him back though it would seem
I sometimes find him young and happy still,
So alive and handsome in a treasured dream.
If only I could conjure those dreams at will.
I often think that I can feel his spirit near,
With knocking sounds and blinking lights.
Late eves or early morn I hear his voice so clear.
I try so hard to connect with him those nights.
Sometimes I hold his watch and other things
I feel they retain vibrations of his energy.
I think of him surrounded by angel wings
And I know he is at peace with family.
10-07-21
This poem is about my husband Michael who passed away July 29, 2020
My son Robby passed away recently May 29, 2021 he was 44
I wrote a blog about my stepson Michael Jr. who is now in a nursing home slowly getting better thanks to all of your prayers. I know it seems confusing.
**Thank you very much Team Poetry Soup for the honor of POTD
Oct. 9, 2021**
How does it feel?
It's hard to tell
Sad when I pause
Taking moments to dwell
It's the pearl that is lost
It's the half-empty shell
It's the un-told story
It's the water-less well
How does it feel?
Deep emotion stirs
Where the long goodbye
Has now lifted it's curse
And the shadowy valley
At last is traversed
So the heavenly moonlight
Guides the soul, now immersed
To the traveller's rest
Angel bells welcome in
As adventure concludes
Ending all earthly din
Yet, we cheer and we shout
For a presence so full
Not a moment's regret
Nothing mundane or dull
The poet and lover
Of life and it's pasture
Your memory rich
While you journey to rapture
Though a vacancy sign
Is erected below you
As we move to conclude
Let our words rise to show you..
This love legacy, bright
It will sparkle forever
For you taught us of hope
As you bound us together
It's a beautiful tether
That will never be broken
Your legacy, strong
And of you, highly spoken
As our eyes may be teary
As these words are no measure
For the gold in our hearts
Is your love's lasting treasure
Translation below (in progress)
Celui qui n'a pas de cœur
Ne doit jamais reposer en paix
He who has no heart
Will never rest in peace
J’étais Charlie
De ma tombe
Mon âme pleure encore rouge
L’encre coule encore
Arrosage des fleurs ci-dessus
Les fleurs, fortes et belles
Elles doivent étouffer vos manières diaboliques
J'étais Charlie, je suis Charlie, Charlie toujours
Dans ma tombe
je ris
vous perdez
I was Charlie
In my tomb
my soul still cries red
the ink still flows
Above the flowers grow
the flowers strong and beautiful
they shall choke your evil ways
I was Charlie, I am Charlie, Charlie forever
In my grave
I laugh
You lose
Walking aimlessly through the woods
Searching for that spot we once stood
Pouring out my heart and my tears
Reliving memories of those special years
Red and orange and purple from green
Rich autumn colors, a sight to be seen
The winds of change quickly blowing in
With it a new chapter will soon begin
Not ready to give up, I can't let go
Where am I headed, where will I blow
Lost without you, what am I to do
Darling, my heart is still beating for you
Like tender loving arms, they wrap around
old monuments of stone set on the ground;
those silent sentinels that stand their guard
above the souls, we honor and regard.
To honor and regard through all the years
when loved ones come to speak unhappy tears.
Beneath the summer rain and winter snow,
these monuments of stone, their sorrow show.
Like tender arms, the vines embrace the stones
to comfort them, these guardians of bones
who bear the sadness brought to them to share,
by those who stand and weep in silent prayer.
The tender vines grow thicker 'round the tombs...
create a leafy shawl that lives and blooms,
and shows true hope for new life after death
which tangled vines embrace with living breath.
Like tender loving arms, they wrap around
these lasting monuments, where peace is found,
and frame the name of each whose life reclines...
now resting safe and sound, caressed by vines.
September 27, 2016
~7th Place~
Premiere Contest: Stones
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
Judged: 08/14/2021
~3rd Place~
Premiere Contest, 2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 18
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Judged: 02/16/2019
~3rd Place~
Contest: Your Best Rhyming Poem 2
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Judged: 02/03/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Overgrown With Vines
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 10/08/2016
Hibiscus rays of light herald
sun's stretch from night to twilight
in wakening blooms of ravishing red passion—
Oh! how I despise dawn's
blushing optimism and lust for life
for I am too young to cry but too old not to
featherlight the dandelion puff
as zephyrs blew seeds of our fantasies
free to fly the whims and sighs of our summer days
till breezes laid our pixie-dust down
wishes taking root in fast flourish—
pollen-plush dream-weeds grew in fields of gold
champagne flowed voluptuously through our veins
we laughed and pulsed with ambrosia-arousal
and with every nectarous nip
we lived as though we would celebrate love
f o r e v e r
a handful of heartbeats ago
we crystal-gazed into moon’s silver circle
believing in foretold fortunes of our future
our mythologies shaped in affectionate frescoes
sculpted softly into plum-dyed skies
constellations born from fireworks in our wooing eyes
—until the heart-twisting dawn-to-dark
when a cloud of angels cradled
sun-gilded harps
against their white-rose-hearts
teardrops in ecstasies of grief and joy
strummed celestial strings in virgin blue glissandos
lifting his lustrous soul away from me— lifting him
across the bridge to bliss —somewhere beyond me
and behind snowy veils of virtue
I am anemic
if not nothing now
adulterated
by loss of innocence
dwindling
in a dreamless star-broken state
unoccupied
but for the lurid loss that fills me—
and my black skies storm with shrieking tears!
nascent
dawn appears
kaleidoscope
of
color
midnight
sighs
leftovers
of
last night
plateful of
unsaid
words,
a
tablecloth
of rapier-sharp
folds
&
fireplace
dying
to be
kept
alive
sensitive
hearts
feel
powerful
in
mundane
rain
pelting
petals
think
of
others
when eating
remember
pigeon
food
when fighting
remember
seeking
peace
paying water-bill
remember
cloud-nursed
when homecoming
remember
homeless
campers
when sleeping
counting stars
remember
sleepless,
roofless
foodless
healthless
hopeless
be a candle
in
dark
snow
mixed
drizzle ...
dust-covered
man
holds
hand
of daughter
dying
slowly
under
slabs
of
concrete
life
illusion
dream
swoon
ecstasy
oblivion
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: February 14, 2023
YOUR SELECTION AGAIN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.