Best Memorialize Poems
Oh my dearest love, how longingly I recall
Amorous wink of joy, teasing zealous eyes
When you held my hand on journey of life
And never let go despite the arduous climb.
Happily you greeted what justly we toiled for,
In view of gratitude plentiful it always was.
Staying true to hallmark of your own resolve
You didn't falter when fate made bad calls.
Exuberantly you reveled in garden of roses
In purple orchids and fragrance of Jasmine
Beneath cosmic infinity wooing your fantasy,
As resolutely you held on to truth of reality.
We traveled far eying cultural renaissance
In Sistine Chapel and the Statue of David
As museums found you mesmerized by art
And paintings in Uffizi held you spellbound.
In your honor, I'll memorialize solemn oath
Lovingly etched in the temple of our hearts
Saying in your voice, there are no goodbyes
When love shall endure till the end of time.
December 14, 2018
Placed first in last letter to my beloved contest by Silent One
Placed 3rd: Strand choice S contest by Brian Strand
As we traverse in happiness of euphoric thoughts
Exuberance of sunrise permeates our avid hearts
Holding hands of leisure on hushed idyllic grounds,
Where pink lotus-blooms lift-up in pristine pond
Floating stilled moments in beauty of white swans,
Embracing day’s serenity awakening in birdsongs.
Upon the ruby roses, spring’s cheery winds blow
As new dawn enlightens in morning’s soft glow
When in your loving touch my riant smile unfolds,
Ambling with you in hues of tranquil meadows
As sanguine skies sprinkle magenta on vibrant arc
And golden sun penetrates veil of retreating fog.
Quietude reigns gardens in stance of the monarchs
Rhapsodic in abundance of the blossoming floras
Feasting on nectar in orange-black camouflage.
As minutes tick slowly, slowing down the clock,
Elysian peacefulness of this relaxed blessed day
Lingers in caressing breeze, reveling ecstatic state.
Carefree we arrive on the banks of cerulean bay
Gazing ebullient tides frolicking on blue surface,
Letting kiss of romance rejoice in the dreamy place.
Reluctant to let us part, the verdant fields hesitate
Realizing this is where exultant journey culminates
As elated souls memorialize our utopian daybreak.
February 25, 2020
Placed 2nd: Pick-A-Title, Vol 14 – Tristich Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh; Title chosen: Ataraxis
Placed 3rd: Strand choice G contest by Brian Strand
Who is this soldier we memorialize
Who fought in wars then he dies
Even though he had to be scared
For into the face of death he stared
A courageous soldier who served his country true
Willing to put his life on the line for you
A warrior who went through strife
Physically and mentally so you could have life
The men and women who for our country fought
A Memorial Day to honor them we ought
Please don't forget the purpose of this day
On the last Monday of May
Memorial Day 2
“All gave some, Some gave all”
Written: by Tom Wright
2016
Today, we memorialize our soldier’s who lie at rest,
Many left families, perhaps some, with wife and child.
Facing life’s challenges they gave country their best,
And for a period of enlistment would become exiled.
They chose to represent our country and its flag,
Some paid the supreme price for our freedom of choice.
Some had their awaited homecoming via a body bag,
And today from heavens portals let the angels rejoice.
Today, I give thanks to the unselfish Veterans for their service,
Those who stood in the gap as defenders of what we hold dear,
Our freedom; and to my brother Master Sergeant
Joe D Wright who served 4 tours with honor in Vietnam;
Tom
For those we lost
Nuzlocking Pokémon Red
This is a poem
To memorialize our dead
Rainbow
A level 4 Metapod
Caught with a single pokéball
Would grow to become
One of the best pokémon of all
Rainbow, the Butterfree
Evolved before our eyes
A valued teammate
We could never predict his demise
But in a simple trainer battle
Tackle was used by a Geodude
Rainbow had little HP
So we were screwed
A level 18 Butterfree
Was lost that fateful day
“Oh, Lord, what have I done?”
Was all his trainer could say
Kiedis
In a patch of grass
A level 16 Mankey we did find
Named after the great Kiedis
A spot on our team he was assigned
Immediately placed in the front position
Our hopes were just to high
A level 16 Rattata
Would force us to bid goodbye
Cross
He was selling Magikarps
This little old man
And we knew immediately
He’d fit in with our plans
Only a level 5
He was a trainee to be sure
But we were already imagining
Battles he could be used for
As a Gyarados, Cross caught us a Snorlax
Rosie would be her name
But we had no idea
She would be his last contribution to our game
A level 29 Electrode
Dealt a critical hit
And as Cross fainted
His trainer threw a fit
You were so young, Cross
Why did it have to be you
We could only pray
That Rosie would do
The Rest
And may we never forget
The Pokémon we lost fighting MewTwo
The ones who gave their lives
To bring the best finale to you
*For Adam Hepler*
Place your hand upon my chest,
listen to my beating heart,
it softly beats for you.
Curl your finger in mine,
let me kiss each one, and then your lips.
As you whisper sweetly in my ear,
my being wraps in the gentleness of your voice,
holding me captive.
Kiss my eyes closed in pleasure,
gently linger on the lids with your yearning tongue.
Layer my neck with lip bites,
nipped with passionate abandon,
they begin and end with you.
Hold me tighter, closer, longer,
memorialize this moment sublime.
There are thoughts I ache to express,
but I’m a prisoner of ecstasy,
silence has its own voice.
My body is answering your every touch,
there is no need for elaboration.
Your tender mercies give me light,
what was dark I now an inkling see,
praises be to human intimacy.
Hold me again, mold me to you.
I’m ready to surrender my soul.
I want to be yours.
DAUGHTER of JULY
Impalpable wealth - in family
My children, are my messiah
The true road to immortality
Once dead - we disintegrate in to dust
Passing on this planet - to the ken we entrust
They learn our behavior, absorb our personality.
This daughter is a savior, and pure pride;
without a doubt. Incorruptibly.
Pro-creation is the closest
to God I have come.
So obdurately - Never.
I bow to none,
yet somehow worth
has stoked provoking
life is worthy of living;
when you begin
living for someone.
Unconditional adoration
my biography, she’ll memorialize when my life is done.
Her birth has given existence a completion
Tragic or Comedic?
Now that I revolve around a new sun.
Given new reason.
My polarity has flipped
the center of Future. The center of Me.
Love is in orbit, my shade you eclipse.
To My daughter Mallauri Shade with infinite and eternal love and gratitude.
THE HOLY WEEK
I reminisce, I miss……
This week is Holy Week and I cannot help;
but to reminisce how we observed the
Holy Week, when I was growing up, that I miss.
Today is Good Friday and I remember
commemorating this day by being in church
at three in the afternoon, when Jesus
died, to recite The Stations of the Cross.
I reminisce; I miss the Holy Week then,
my father decorating the long doubled
strips palms for us to carry to church,
to be blessed in the Palm Sunday mass.
We gathered outside the church at night
on Holy Wednesday for procession around
our little town ending inside the church
to observe the Holy Wednesday mass.
The next night, we went to church
in observance of Holy Thursday and
we commemorated the crucifixion
and death of Jesus on Good Friday.
We continued on to memorialize
with another procession around
the town in the evening, followed
by the lengthy Good Friday mass.
Saturday was observed in silence,
while waiting to exhale and rejoice
the Resurrection on Easter Sunday
with all our town festivities.
Our resurrection procession started
outside the church very early in the
morning, ending at the plaza kiosk
with singers welcoming the procession.
We proceeded to church for the Easter
Sunday mass to celebrate the Resurrection.
We continued on celebrating by going
to the beach having fun and lunch.
How I miss observing the Holy Week then.
I reminisce, I miss….
4/2/21 I Reminisce I Miss Poetry
James Edward Lee Sr.
LASHES TO ASHES IN SLOW MOTION
Might I please present myself as a prologue to death
Because unless I am terribly wrong…….
I can’t have too terribly long
And I’ve been lazy too long
But I don’t have too long to act crazy
Incredibly and indisputably inane
And drive other people institutionally insane
My days dry up like clay caskets caught in the Cancun sun
Leading to nights that usually end by me ending up with whiskey whisking away yet another weary evening
Witnessed and coerced by two dead soldiers made of glass
Who kicked my ass the night before
When fright came before a blackout
And darkness led to a morning of foul tasting coffee and a donut of doubt
What secret could the night before grasp tightly in its clutch?
Will people say my performance was a bit too much?
Is there a lady somewhere that I wouldn’t recognize if her eyes were made of fire with whom I let desire declare two bodies bare?
And precisely what did she and I share?
Was it something controlled by a lack of control?
Did we meld in mind, body and soul?
Did seduction succeed in its mission to maraud our minds and give making love the meaning it was meant to have?
Is there a lady out there who borrowed a snippet from my life and may have been complicit in the death of a dream?
Did we watch the world fly in fast forward together?
And sometimes in slow motion in order that our time together would be extended by the exclusion of the relativity of time
And a second could sing for as long as it takes a wedding bell’s voice to fade into the hollowness of night
And a minute might meander down the middle of a mercurial moment and remain there until you sigh deeply and chase the stars away for the morning’s sake
And oh to the music of mysticism your countenance is wont to make
Sung by a choir of questions and a chorus of conclusions
While a flute would fleetingly fade into forgotten confusion
Alas, my days decline by death’s design and do more than demoralize me
My only request is that you disregard my genius and charming manner and please don’t memorialize me
Nor commemorate me in any way
Simply cremate me and toss me away!
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
S omewhere in the recent past came a show which brought the future,
T hough it was a show that would use the future to show us the past.
A nd each week when the new episode was on the tube...
R ecounting now, I remember how I wished each would last.
T he writing was some of the best fiction ever put on TV.
R oddenberry chose a cast that would memorialize his dream.
E ach week they took us to a time in another place for an hour,
K irk, Spock, Sulu, Scotty, Bones, Uhura, and Chechov were on the screen.
Even today I will sometimes "binge" watch those old shows,
Remembering how they influenced my every look up at a star.
The show created many more series and a number of movies too...
It's the one show that in our generation will never have a par.
(The extra quatrain was written only to fulfill the 10 line minimum required.)
Oh Babylon the Great , the Dragon Queen
false religion rides the highway of mankinds being
clothed without visions robes of splendor
conceals the violations of Truth you render
The crown you have gained through war and bloodshed
proof that what lies inside your heart is dead
"let the dead bury the dead" said Jesus in passing
you must leave her roads if you want "Life Everlasting"
Exquisitely adorned on the beast you have saddled
the chalice of blood shed and humanity have addled
you have mesmerized the multitudes Chaldean mystics spell
consumption at your table the poison of the fell
Those who dine and lie with you produced the final generation
those who only love themselves and hatred in every nation
beneath your robes of beauty the acts of carnage you've concealed
but Jehovah by Christ Jesus has them openly revealed
The castles and cathedrals tell the real story
money taken from the poor to memorialize your glory
the histories of the nations and temples where you dwell
illusion of those seeking peace but the ranks of war there swell
You say "I sit a Queen" to the one you've sworn your oath you've lied
you have pandered to the enemy in every action taken side
the jewels you have garnered are those of hardened stone
dust of your desires , exposed your graveyard of dry bone
Mankind likes his "ritual" his "habits" and his "drink"
when immersed in them he doesn't have to think
baptized with the mysteries questions have no answer
intelligence is manipulated by the puppet master
Upon the wings of Dragon, these heights you have flown
but Jesus by "revelation" shows you from the saddle thrown
those who really love the Truth from your chains have fled
they have recognized the corpse of the living dead
if you wish to complete this one it also is too
long for Poetry Soup ....link to complete poem
....www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=438721320980....
Apocalypse 17 & 18
COPYRIGHT © 2010 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Five score minus eight years ago
January eighteenth two thousand twenty one
father of civil rights movement
the revered Martin Luther King Junior honored
as benevolent demigod figure
to the oppressed African American population
without whose bold risks
and subsequent brutal assassination April fourth
ninety sixty eight at the hands
of a crazed gunman (James Earl Ray),
whereby all the King's men
and all the King's horses...,
still aghast at tragic event
while reverberations felt forty two years later,
where embedded white privilege
begets continued racial strife
analogous to uncorked raging tempest
saddling people of color to human bondage
(no matter ponying up excellent equestrians),
nevertheless wrought empowerment
advancing cherished dreams
of slaves recent descendents
allowing, enabling and providing
once attainable aspirations
only bestowed upon
the self anointed masters and early settlers of
the virginal North American contiguous land mass
yet…generations prior
to this prestigious public personality
Abolitionists pitted themselves
against the institution of slavery
incrementally raising awareness
regarding the abomination
forced servitude incurred on those shackled
thus setting the stage
for this grandson of A.D. Williams
a rural parsonage,
who ministered spiritual support
for the small congregation
(initially only thirteen members)
comprising attendants at
Ebenezer Baptist church in Atlanta Georgia
setting precedent for freedom
(at risk of life and limb) against scourge of
racial prejudice courtesy
of sharecropper grandparents
whose objection to racial segregation
based on an affront to the will of God,
whereby the young whip smart precocious lad,
(whose impact we now memorialize)
showed his true colorful promise
when a young student at
Liberal Crozer Theological Seminary
in Chester, Pennsylvania
where the yet uncrowned
eminent king came under the influence
of theologian Reinhold Niebuhr,
a classmate of his father's
at Morehouse College
who became a mentor by exposing
his protégée to liberal views of theology
I never fought in Vietnam…my parents never had to worry…to fear…to morn…for the simple reason my draft number was connected to the day that I was born.
I sat watching draft numbers being picked…wondering what I was going to do until my birthday draft number was finally called and I was 322.
As luck would have it I had a friend whose birthday was number 4….So I went off to college…while he went off to war.
A war that had been raging for 9 years…causing pain and grief and tears…
Sadly, the anguish and the agony of that war would rage on for 10 more years.
The soldiers who went off to fight…young men and women side by side…like any soldier in any war…they served, they fought…some died.
Over 58.000 young men and women died in that war…a number both sad and profound…some of their bodies never made it home…to this day they’ve never been found.
But those who returned alive from that Vietnam…found their war was out of fashion…they did not receive their country’s glory…nor their countrymen’s compassion.
It was a war that divided our county…pitting Americans against each other…
In the streets, to protest a war, we fought with our own sisters…our own brothers.
Yesterday we stopped at a park near a downtown South Florida neighborhood…where, to our surprise, a replica of the Vietnam War Memorial stood.
The wall was erected to memorialize these soldiers…whose lives went un-completed…with the hope the lessons from that war would never be forgotten…or repeated…
In a solemn, sobering moment I was filled with sadness…tears began to fall as I ran my fingers across the name of my friend upon that wall.
How sad it was to gaze out on all those names…trying to ascertain…after watching what Americans did to Americans this week…if my friend and all his friends hadn’t died in vain.
Wondering in the aftermath of a week where we ignored old lessons…where old mistakes were, once again, repeated…how many more people will be hurt…how many more lives will never be completed.
Wondering if it’s possible, as I ran my fingers along that wall…if there will ever be a time when there’ll be no wars at all…
I believe it is possible, without war, for people to come together, to compromise, to help their hate and anger cease…I believe every language has a word for this…
I believe that word…is PEACE
Plucked like strings, a melancholic melody.
Hades and Persephone dance till eternity.
Buzz in the morning like a flying bumblebee
Teardrops in mourning, when the night is silent, chilly.
The tempo is going quicker as the years pass by
“We are not growing younger,” is the usual reply.
New songs will come, but the old songs we will remember
In the memories where they will remain forever.
Although their laughter will never grace again our ears
May this poem memorialize them for the coming years.
Gray stones
Marking graves
Roses of white, pink and purple
Clinging to names, faded
Shadowed by oak and elm
Branches stirred
By crisp, cool winds
Names, only names
Left here to memorialize lives
Gone, spirits
Chill bumps rising
Along arms gripping
Lost hopes, the grief
Lonely with dread, darkness
Haunting hearts, souls
With memories
Silhouettes of dead dreams
Still the yearnings
The loss runs deep like
Faith that has embraced
The feelings, the soul,
Waiting for more
Comfort from hurting
Silent, secreted inside
The affection who knows
Love clings to dead
Pieces of a heart
Grief-stricken,
Weeping, mournful
At the cemetery