Best Epitaphs Poems
As heartrose epitaphs
swathe earthly echoes
with swelled up w a v e s
of spiritual sirens,
sea-fairies collide
with honeysuckle footprints,
traced by mint-green manta rays
along aquatic vessel of karma,
pumping a nascent wilderness.
In shawls of raven wind,
my silhouette is a blood moon,
mirrored in mermaid's emerald eyes
'neath dove grey midnight,
flowering from skulls
like love's last smoke,
as sciaphilic pulse evaporates ~
and rusty rains of remorse remain.
Grieving wanderlust
waltzes in my
metallic burgundy veins,
as butterfly oracles flip
and seraph's saga
swirls in a torrential topaz turmoil,
inscribing truths midst
ignited bohemian serenades.
Winding moonlight
around fingertips,
ivory threads of harp
dance in fluid palms
as liquid sun, floating in dew,
melts upon titanium tentacles
of wisteria archangels.
When water hymns
hibernate in silence
and marine prayers
s u r f in surging eagle blades,
I pirouette as
an amethyst-opal whisper of wound
in white-washed warrior skin,
for, every crimson corpse
is a thumping cyclone,
burning within sienna sand.
Ancient memoirs
cascade like
tea-lime a s h drops,
upon shipwrecked lotus leaves
where the third eye slumbers
in talisman petals,
and heartbeats bubble up
as breaths of a
windswept vagabond.
So, in fears of ruby-fire r a i n,
I'm forlorn and found,
my soul chakra is sewn
with stelliferous canopies,
and within dolphin lullabies,
jeweled life gently sways.
Homing perfumed stars
in tulip temple,
I'm Athena's spirit~
a wildflower d a w n,
fading beneath
samurai cloak of
caramel flakes,
unfurled from pistachio sepals,
my honey pink aura
cradles tiger-lily sunbeams
upon eyelashes,
as f a t e flutters...
in timeless,
watercolor wisps.
The eyes behind a head inclined reflect a universe
Of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
Of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
Of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
Of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
Of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
Of tinkle tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
Of life’s begin’ in utter sin and other things perverse,
Of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
While poets blind, in gallows’ rind, carve epitaphs in verse.
Lecherous Luther was wont to grope
He ceased to function at the end of a rope!
Here lies Cletus as stiff as a board
He slipped on the ice and busted his gourd!
Here rests our dear Ruby who failed to duck
She was beaned on her noggin by a hockey puck!
Egbert the boxer took a fatal jab to the jaw
He died on the spot for failing to yaw!
Interred below is Purvis rigid and prone
Alas, he choked on a chicken's bone!
How we lament the loss of Naomi our sister
She was whisked up and away by a Kansas twister!
Dudley kept in shape by regularly joggin'
Alas, he tripped and fell crackin' his noggin!
Phineas was laid to rest for his eternal snooze
He died too young because of his fondness for booze!
Wilfried didn't heed the warning regarding the curve
He met his doom in a Lamborghini for failing to swerve!
While breaking a bronc Tex was abruptly unhorsed
Perhaps the task would've gone better outsourced!
Cecil the Magician knew a heap of tricks,
But, alas, couldn't get himself out of this fix!
Carl was laid to rest for his eternal snooze,
Brought about by guzzling too much booze!
Pete was a rock-hard liberal Democrat.
Lord, be merciful and forgive him for that!
'Twas well-known that Cletus was such a crooked politician,
That he had to be screwed in the ground by the mortician!
Buster was shot while fencing his plunder.
Now he lies a-moldering six feet under!
Clarice was an avid tea party conservative Republican.
Democrats need her vote - Lord, convert her if you can!
Fred met his doom when his plane malfunctioned.
To make matters worse his parachute disfunctioned!
Here reposes the mortal shell of Marty McCall,
Who met his doom in a barroom brawl!
Bob sank without a trace and things looked grim.
He tried to tell them that he couldn't swim!
At last he found peace when he suddenly died,
But now his shrewish wife dwells by his side!
The doc warned him about all that cholesterol.
Too much meat and taters brought about his fall!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Oh I have done it now, I have failed you yet
Upon whose bones and shoulders I've trampled
With the rightful heir's death
Chaining myself to a throne of thorns
Unequally yoked with my kinsmen
Who drag the crown over these hallowed grounds
The dead tell no lies for we do it for them
So come, let us talk of graves and epitaphs
And how with vile worms I lie
My merits lived and sealed
Such grave errors do accent my frailties
Let me ease your sorrows with my ghostly hymns
We'll leave this country to the just vagabonds
May they rob this grave of my woes and my debt
------
For the Shakespeare contest. From Richard II
PANED REFLECTIONS
Here lies the glazier, Peter Lee
His wife is shattered, naturally!
LAST NIGHTS ON THE TILES
Alas poor Joe, I knew him well
He fixed my roof before he fell!
SNAKE IN THE GRASS
Here lie the bones of Jones the vet
Inside his boa constrictor pet!
HE KNEW HIS STUFF
Ted, taxidermist, here doth lie
He stuffed himself with too much pie!
HAMMERED HOME
Here lies my auctioneer friend, Ron
His final ‘going, going gone!’
14/09/18
My eyes swept over the epitaph
tracing letter and syllable like a finger on braille
with each read the lines smudged
it all became a hazy blur
the message struck my eye with a blinding glare
I fumbled on my keyboard keys
a blindness setting in like Pharaoh's plague
my knuckles freezing and fingers numbing
I slipped into a trance as memories convoluted
Your poems were always a lively opera
each line a saccharine sweet melody
each stanza a soothing sip of milk
igniting an infant's craving on my palate
only suckling your infinite breast of
artistic excellence could lull my insomniac mind
if you succumb to arrows of hate,
if you let this dream sink to the depths of earth,
who shall conjure up the magic only your pen can weave?
who will hypnotise my senses when reality pierces me?
is this how all dreams end in the deathly depths of Sheol?
Nightmares awaken from their slumber
like Zombies awakening from the grave
sweet memories tremble and flee in terror
without your words to exorcise my haunted thoughts
I wish you'd never bury our writer's dream
Shards of your broken heart slice into my dream
your bleeding heart hemorrhages my pen
your dream is entwined with mine
writing an epitaph for yours, buries mine too.
Now, I'm a very average and simple guy,
But, doggone it, when it comes my time to die,
I'd like a nice epitaph etched upon my stone,
To fondly remember me by when I'm gone!
Here are a few suggestions for you to mull over,
When I cease to function and am planted 'neath the clover.
You are at liberty to pick and choose any one.
If needed, form a committee to get the job done!
"He always enjoyed a fine cigar;
He passed on ere too much tar!"
"Upon my stone let no bird alight;
If they do, please clean off the blight!"
"If you think this place has no appeal;
How the heck do you think I feel!"
"Old Bob owns this piece of real estate;
But no one has seen him as of late!"
Folks it's up to you to make a selection.
Just remember me with fond affection.
Choose whatever you think fits me best,
Then leave me alone to enjoy my rest!
All our Epitaphs
Lord only knows.
May my God make me worthy and my Devil make me fine.
For both they are at odds to own this soul of mine.
For though I"m never good at ever being bad,
I have this Cross to bare that makes me very sad.
If I could sell a fish or two a wealthy man I"d be,
some dough and bread to make, like a man from Galilee.
If I could tell a tale to catch a crowds attention
would I be lost for words, beyond all comprehension
could you believe my tale, that beggars all belief
a story oh so tall about a Joker and a Thief...
You and I
will die.
Hopefully above
or else we"ll fry.
Amen.
Evening shades are deepening
Peaceful hues and tones
In the darkness creeping
There’s a silence in the stones
Anonymous lies sleeping
Psalms praising the unknown
Heaven holds thee in its keeping
Sings the silence of the stones.
Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams
Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms;
hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches;
then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain;
for this is welcome shade from the burning sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whom Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there.
My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me
a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse,
a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies
I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords: ancient, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, lament, mourning, funeral, grave, death, death of a friend, dead, bereavement, eulogy, funeral, goodbye, loss
We are —
HYPOCRITES!
Jesus
turns the other cheek,
while we
berate,
and slap
the faces
of our enemies —
and carve
their epitaphs
in stone.
Note: In response to WWIII and Jesus trending worldwide on Twitter.
In the dirty hands of poverty,
Scavengers of the Republic of Enlightenment
Quench their thirst under the eyelids of the proletarians.
A sinecure of hard drugs
To silence the lamentations of these birds of ill omen.
The crosses are upside down in the furnaces of hell;
Lucifer, the egregore of these bloodthirsty criminals,
Has no distinction against the sickles of the angel of death.
The Earth is allergic to love;
It is the war that invigorates all these hearts of stone.
I have hated justice since I waddled on the edge of the spiral precipice,
My attachment to dirty money, which is similar to a fanatic's devotion to spiritual beliefs.
Sleepless nights leafing through the black pages of my legal pedigree,
I love the silence of darkness, like the darkness of a sequestered coffin in a cemetery.
My reflexes are monetary and my passions are deadly.
I only have partners;
I'm not your brother, I'm lonely as death.
The mood of a Palestinian in the shoes of a Pharisee,
Suicidal like these Africans
Which cross the Sahara and the Mediterranean.
A Kalashnikov in the brain,
I proudly accept the darkness of my words.
I am angry like all these child soldiers from the cradle.
I fiercely adore freedom in the bowels of a France filled with fascists.
Negrophobes have the right to be angry;
After all, I'm just an ungrateful who always cheated.
I didn't come to assimilate,
Just amass without calculating before being expelled.
Flashes of macabre memories to erase my nightmares,
I'm starving, thirsty for hemoglobin like a vampire.
I have been walking on death row since I arrived on Earth;
For all my blasphemy, I will end up in flames.
Are you ready for a few laughs
you can have in your bathes
while reading their epitaphs.
Now I have to write I.
Jim Horn