Best Obits Poems
Cigarettes and alcohol
had washed her youth away.
The fresh faced girl, with the wayward curl,
that I knew from 'yesterday'
had now been replaced,
by something hard faced,
playing the oldest game in town.
Her painted on smile and streetwise guile
trying to hide the tears of a clown.
Our inner voices give us choices
of the pathways we should take.
It's a downward spiral, that soon goes viral,
if those voices are all fake.
And she had reached, and then had breached,
the nadir of her life.
She had once been a friend, staunch to the end,
a daughter, a mother, a wife.
And as we walked, so we talked,
about the might have been's.
The what went wrongs, remembered songs,
and prom night Kings and Queens.
We said goodbye and she said she would try,
but I knew her cause was lost.
And I'd scan the obits, for lost souls and misfits,
and she'd be there, as a thaw follows frost.
Categories:
obits, allegory,
Form:
Rhyme
The Final Game
now in these years
called senior by name
is it the final game
friends live today
next day may be gone
will they see the new dawn
obits are read
each morning these years
will today bring some tears
senior days pass
like game of roulette
is it hit or miss yet
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Questionku Two
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux
Judged: 10/25/2015
Categories:
obits, age, death,
Form:
Questionku
3rd of November
Sleepy day
Ragweed and bitters
Time drips away
Spigot of rum
Rotten limes
In the sink
Missed you again
Newspaper flies
Obits and sports
Lay in the dirt
Dog barks next door
What the hell for?
Cigarettes and coke
Scattered like quail
Across the coffee table
TV is on
CNBC
The news is not good
I missed you again
10 days have gone
Since you left
I can’t get right
This buzz in my head
Adrift and alone
I call on the phone
To a voice I don’t know
Says you’re not all alone
Day turns to night
The “friends” reappear
Another night of whiskey and beer
I hope when I wake
I won’t have missed you again
You are so damn allusive
This life you call dear
Categories:
obits, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Reading obits Frank had quite a surprise
There he learned of his untimely demise
'Twas beyond his belief
But he read with relief
'Twas another Frank with a name likewise
Categories:
obits, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Reading the obits they saw his demise
Their interest peaked, a crime they devised
They ransacked his home, stole memories, treasures
Not giving a thought to their hurtful measures
While robbing the dead, and raping his heirs
What gain could be found from stealing his wares
His children were awed by the cruel scam
And no one knew why thieves went on the lam
After taking his goods and selling for cash
Dear family heirlooms just paid for their stash
*My father’s house was ransacked as soon as the obit appeared in the newspaper. Police say this happens often.
Entry for Susan Burch’s “Show Me the Anger” contest.
Categories:
obits, angst, family,
Form:
Couplet
Pill ads on TV are so very shrill
They tend to make me nauseously ill
First they tout their benefits
Then warn you might hit the pits
Named in obits for swallowing their pill
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
obits, funny, health
Form:
Limerick
A tiny runt who cannot run,
mom kicked me out because I limp.
The big dogs call me dumb, a gimp,
off-beat orphan, claimed by no one.
A Mowgli bumming all around,
Where is that warmer welcome mat?
there sits Bagheera, mama cat;
a foundling's hope perhaps is found.
She takes me in with her own kits;
they share and care for me at last.
Not long and I forget my past;
my name escapes the dog obits.
October 5, 2020
Sponsor: nette onclaud
Contest: In Praise of the Ode
Theme: # 3. About an Orphan
Categories:
obits, 11th grade, cat, dog,
Form:
Ode
NEWSPAPERMAN
Is the purpose of news to keep you informed
of current events that have already dawned?
Or is some mechanism set in that script
that triggers reactions to bite through your lip?
What is it typed in that story line
that keys in emotions of reactive minds?
What’s in paragraphs, punctuated with stress,
that is sentencing you to states or duress?
It’s the death and disaster, crime and obits,
it’s all of the news that’s print to give fits.
It’s anger to apathy and it’s all a plan.
It’s the stock and trade of the newspaper man.
What is the motive of a mind set
to transmit a virus by alphabet,
to poison the paper with type in ink
then sells it as copy to contaminate think?
Just whose fingertips edits those keys
to conjure a spell of anxiety?
Who holds you entranced in a dire embrace
of paper and ink and tragic typeface?
It’s the death and disaster, crime and obits,
it’s all of the news that’s print to give fits.
It’s anger to apathy and it’s all a plan.
It’s the stock and trade of the newspaper man.
Categories:
obits, irony,
Form:
Couplet
By Elton Camp
Always true, it surely ain’t
One who dies was a saint
Everyone loved him so
Friends want all to know
A smile always on his face
A fellow whom all embrace
He never did a single wrong
Or so goes the familiar song
Though we see him no more
He stands on a celestial shore
Real opinion they never tell
“I’ve no doubt he’s in hell.”
“A liar’s all he’s ever been.
A man so steeped in sin.”
“Disliked by all he knew.
I say it because it’s true.”
“Without him, this is a better place.
Nobody will miss his leering face.”
Such candor might be misplaced
And newspaper obits sure erased
But it’s better not to say a thing
Than false praise to the dead bring
Just one time, I’d really like to see
“Of a worthless scoundrel we’re free”
Categories:
obits, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Basic black, they chatter like
fiancees choosing flatware,
obits their compulsion,
scanning through the
fine print for fatalities today.
"Albert Johnson, such
a young one, taken by his
Maker, leaving children,
such a shame!" A hunger for
the details drives these gannets
to their prey. They're not too far
behind, and that's the reason
for their passion,
death and taxes, final call.
Professional, they'll travel
thirty miles to pay respects,
their only consolation
now that Frank and Jim are gone.
Memories are treasures
they will contemplate, while they wait
in resignation, ready for their turn.
Categories:
obits, funeral,
Form:
Verse
Peel back the onion tear squeals
coming from a televised live politico lynch rally
See the sound byte rubber duckie
teflon touting
his favorite effigy combustible hits
Penguin strutting presidential seal
got a billy goat attitude, kicking rude gutter alley
A moving goalpost sway dis plucky,
sour spouting
his most edgy, nitroglycerin lip obits
Give an Orwellian mad props shout out
to this Banana Republic appeal
It’s got plenty of Hammedetha hate, swastika love
Bent cross rules
trolling tropic yellow fever
Rabid delirious cold sweat vanilla doubt,
fascist hope has a death toll knell
It’s got bundles of blitzkrieg love, Haman hate
Coin bossed tools
pull on the hangman’s lever
Banana Republic appeal
got a filthy lucre piggy publican feel
Roman togas behind the keel steering wheel,
Caesars wanton more red dollar bills
Two thousand fraudulent, furrowed years,
crucified cries dripping with Diaspora tears
Banana Republic appeal ...
Legionnaire monkeyshine hurt,
skeleton bones
sabertooth rattle toss
a high yellow alert
Alien fear don’t have to gun tote yield,
power corrupts when a Balaam wields
Scimitar curved insides
swinging sling blade serrated hate
Dividing every Canary gripe state
Carny barker razor edge spit,
spiked with Herod care,
lung pour Raid
the Dixie klear kup of Kool-Aid
Banana Republic appeal ...
heady void, thoughtless swill
Pendulum arc bullet shot
is a guillotine drop done deal
Categories:
obits, imagery, perspective, political, word
Form:
Narrative
To glorify the leading star he obits the big named performer
with blank face in shabby clothing and for his part is so minute
it doesn’t matter whether he exists or not.
Although, he falls under the sword with gushing blood,
killed by a single gun shot without a word, or dies
by a thrusting spear with a short groan, no one cares
to cry for his tragic death, because he has no name, no tomb.
A day of extra’s life is to learn how to wait and to survive
through one day at a time. He roams around the studio patiently
for his given day and, while roaming around the empty studio
he becomes a dim shadow under the darkening sky,
and when the sky getting darker and darker he follows the sets
with a moon, with the stars, to the location where the scenery
that is to shot and glorify the big name, as the truckloads that
move along in a long formed line.
If you spend a day in Hades, it will shorten a day of given life.
For death is proof of the contrary to the living, and waiting game
is the part of extra’s life, though the life seemed to be worthless, and therefore, no cast of a play is given for his sake, the extra, the leftover life, also is the existing being until he falls under the sword, killed from a single bullet, trusted to die by a spear.
Categories:
obits, death, life, patriotic, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Repeat of the four-year refrain
Pits demented versus insane
We who are pundits
Say please call it quits
And would toast their obits with champagne
Categories:
obits, america, introspection, political,
Form:
Limerick
WHAT IS THE POINT
What is the point?A comment so
often made,a question in some
bored moment.A reflection to pass
away some dull moments ‘til something
other provides a momentary distraction
to fill the mind with a temporal
train of thought.Soon the question
is then forgotten.Life is too short
is it not?Yes it is,pick up the ‘obits’
read the news,watch the straplines
on the twenty-four hour news.Yes
life is often very short for some!
The question then becomes so
acute and relevant.What is the
point?The point,dear friend is to
find the answer to living.What
is that you ask?To turn back to
your maker and live out His unique
design.He created you.That is the point!
Listen to me recite this and my anthology of poetry on youtube under name ichthyschiro
Categories:
obits, life, , cute,
Form:
Verse
Our aging- how we reckon it depends
on where we are in life that given time.
The preteen celebrates to reach thirteen-
and then at twenty-one- cheers with a beer!
The border crossed at thirty is not dire;
most times adulthood has matured by then.
But hitting forty bodes a turning point-
the trip to middle age will soon proceed.
For most, the age of fifty earns a prize
for reaching one half-century of age.
When sixty comes- retirement's in view;
then seventy- that's when the worries start.
That aging stage- a topic shared by friends-
comparing ailments, meds- physicians too.
Scanning obits- enduring mournful wakes;
attending nursing homes- as case, or guest.
This phase of aging- not the same for all;
health issues strongly shape how long we live.
Through every step, we pray to stay robust;
live best each treasured day- one at a time.
June 6, 2019
~9th Place~
Premiere Contest: Aging
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Judged: 06/26/2019
Categories:
obits, life,
Form:
Blank verse