Best Obituary Poems
Paris the 13th
Tears, my tears fall to wine
As I can not comprehend this horrendous crime
Men filled with such spiteful hate
Islamic teachings seal their fate
Kill and slaughter love and smiles
How I pray tell does this bring about
Any compassion of heart, have they no guile?
I have walked along those Parisian streets
Filled with history and diversity, such a feat
Hand in hand, people from so many lands
Dressed in darkness, blacks and grays
The massacre dancing in premonitions sway
Crusaders never win, for love will take its stand
Hundreds taken from Jesus hands
For nothing more than celebrating their great lands
Food and drink and lovers smiles
Stolen this night by hateful bile
We shall rise again, defend and stand
Our blood may flow in the river seine
However in the end its you, who is insane
We shall defend our liberty
Even if we hang evil from the tree
Père Lachaise has brought me tears
Such history over all the years
Yet here I am faced to visit once again
Paying respect to those dying in vain
My heart is fraught, with you till eternity
Liberté, égalité, fraternité
Notes: Pere Lachaise is a famous cemetery in Paris
Liberté, égalité, fraternité is the motto of France
Koorosh the Great, Friend
All of my heart
One tear
Or one Monsoon
No amount, no grandeur
Can express the sorrow
Oh yes, I am sad, I am saddened
I am in sorrow
I am swimming in the darkness
I am missing something
That can not be said in words
Koorosh the great was a prophecy
For only now have we seen
The truth of greatness
Not by Victory, but by kindness
We are blessed to have seen
How simple life can be
Love your life
Your family
Your friends
Bring everyone laughter
Create, envision and dream
Everyone who knows you feels special
Your father taught you well
Kindness that transcended generations
In the end
A humble man
No god could make him bitter
He was as he always was and more
A kind man
Only when you remove a tree from the garden
Do you realize
The tree was the garden
The flowers bloomed for the tree
The people sought shade and comfort
Quietly, I weep
For him
For his family
For life
If all great leaders followed his path
What a beautiful world we would have
He inspired
He smiled
Corey, you are missed
Notes: Dedicated to my friend Corey Fazel who just recently passed away before his time. Corey, you will be missed by many many people. It is you with your friendly pertinence that got me to swim, and that alone has changed my life, I will remember the many evenings and dinners we talked about all things under the sun.
MSA is Multiple System Atrophy, a terrible and debilitating disease that attacks the nervous system. It has many of the symptoms of Parkinson, however from onset one has very few years of life left.
Lower the flags to half mast,
America the Beautiful has been gutted,
Its word emptied of all meaning,
There is no jubilant throng singing,
“Glory, glory Hallelujah!”
Our nation’s heroes rise
From their earthen graves enraged
And cry out to the heavens,
“Have our cruel deaths been in vain?!”
Their ghosts march en masse
On the nation’s capital to haunt
Those who have betrayed our nation
In the Chamber of the Senate.
Abraham Lincoln holds his head in his hands,
And weeps bitterly for his nation.
All he endured to protect the Union from traitors
Has been destroyed in a single vote.
Our Founding Fathers who had sacrificed all
Watch in horror as the orange faced buffoon
Mounts the steps of the Capital with
The beloved Constitution of the United States
Attached to the bottom of his shoe
Like used toilet paper.
Tomorrow morning in newspapers
Throughout the nation the obituary is written,
“The United States of America,
Born on July 4, 1776, died on February 5, 2020
In the Senate, Washington D.C.
Took me the breath of all my life
A soul mate who could consume my heart wither a smile
I found that Gothic girl after dark
A little to late to consummate
I lie in waiting with a dead round smile
Empty eyes and a lot of guile
I found a girlfriend even if late
We lie together
Frigid is our state
Words For Those With No Voice
For every pair of shoes
All the burnt bones and woes
In the millions, in the mud
All died alone
Starving of food and having lost our souls
Our god abandoned us so
Mother father
Sister brother
Fuel for the Reich, we lay slaughtered
Some of us were saved
By those whose honor made them brave
We must salute them all, the bold and the dead
Even if we have only skeletons to mark their stead
Now that time has passed
There will be contests, it will be a blast
Who wins first? Who wins third?
The holocaust deserves no prize
Why must we die twice, this is absurd?
Honor me with a prayer
A poem
A moment of silence
A heart felt thought about humanity
Prose and verse, to remember the atrocities
This is the honor of men of a higher velocity
Never make a circus of the horrific gas chambers
A contest of who makes the horrors more real or titillating
Its not you the writer or the reader that feels
It’s us gassed and burned and buried with our id numbers
Asleep in the fields in slumber
Yellow stars fading away in silence, in tears
No grave markers to shout out of atrocious fears
The subtly of honor is lost on the crass
Maybe it’s them who should be buried under this grass
Notes:
I realize this is a delicate issue, I wrote this poem only because is of my opinion, that having a contest on such issues unless for specific venues, causes, etc. is somewhat tasteless. There is no right or wrong, this is simply by view or take on things and thus have expressed so via this poem. A contest implies a prize or reward even be it praise, and so to profit from so many peoples suffering, well I have explained why. However that being said, any expression or illustration dedicated to honoring and bringing to the light such atrocities, is a different issue.
That being said good intentions are just that, no matter how misguided they may be. We should be grateful we live where we are free to express our sentiments, feelings and beliefs, without fear of repercussion, and that by its very nature will mean many have diverse opinions and views on any issue.
Death is not the end,
For love goes on
And you will find the evidence
Long after I have gone.
The flowers that we planted
Will blossom without end,
You’ll find me in their beauty
As to their needs you tend.
The books we read together,
The laughter in the pages,
Will continue to give pleasure
To you throughout the ages.
So do not mourn my passing
You are not left alone,
You’ll always find me waiting
In the places we have known.
The bond that grew between us
Will not abate with time,
It will go on for always,
I’m yours and you are mine.
A good man's gone, loved by us all
on the screen both big and small.
The fire is cold, the lights are out.
His soul's moved on, without a doubt.
The laughter's gone that masked the pain.
The house is still and peace does reign.
He fought his battles on life's wild ride,
but lost his war with the demons inside.
How can one thrive on acclaim and wealth
without the love of one's own self?
I hope you found the peace you sought.
The life you lived won't be forgot.
July 5, 2015
Obama drew his mighty line in the sand
Dare ye not to cross me
Assad replied in kind
Gassing thousands and laughing
A little Syrian boy has drowned
Siblings to weak to cross that mighty line
Salvation was the evasive dream
Father shall never escape the nightmares
The sun is setting
As she prepares her for evening
After dusk dinner with her lover in gardens over there
Basket of love all wrapped with love and flair
She sets down the cutlery
Pours two glasses of red wine
A dozen roses she places on the tombstone
Candles flicker surrounding the grave
She clinks glasses, too you my love
I smile meekly, taking a sip
She whispers how she misses me so
She gently caresses me and sings our song
The moon is out, so full and bright
We dance entwined, both past and present held tight
She seductively sways, in the candle lit night
A lone tears appears upon her cheek
I am silent, intimately studying her face of sadness
She knows I love her, even from below
The wind and the sky both tell her so
Her tear stained scarf falls right where I lie
I smell her perfume, her passions my soul keeps
The night becomes chilly, for our tears so weep
She lays down beside me, holding me in stone
She whispers you shall never be alone
Before sunrise, up she is her basket packed to go
She places one black rose upon me as the clouds part way
She returns to her reality and me to my grave
Turning round she speaks these words
You can never leave me
You can never go
You are always beside my heart
For I love you so
In the morning sun
The grave keeper is mending and pruning things just right
As he walks over me, I am startled a wee bit with fright
You see I had a dream just this last of nights
That a lover came to whisper devotions and hold me tight
There was no woman, no lover, no visitor to my enclave
For even the dead and soulless, have dreams from underneath
My hell on earth is to be buried right here in earthy toils
Knowing no lover will place a flower at the foot of my grave
The wind blows
Leaves twirling up in the sky
The wind blows
A black rose falls upon my grave
I used to be free
Acrobatics in the air
I would soar with flair
From here to way over there
Fly away
Into my dreams
Free as the air that brushes by me
Anywhere I could be
Whatever tickles my fancy
I could be the fly on the wall
Or the annoying one
Tickling life and all of you
Laughing as I fly so free
Oh how I could dance in the skies
Landing on buffets to delight my eyes
Feasting on gourmet of french cuisine
Life so joyous from high in the skies
So one day my life came crashing down
You imprisoned me to the flyers pound
I could not escape you have me well bound
Now I struggle my life is on ground
No more flying, no more freedom
I am now all tied up and
Stuck on you
To my death I will hate this fate
Regretting the day you and I made that date
Landing on you was death in black
You are the one to steal my last breath
You are……..
Flypaper
I, the Fly
Thousands living in fear
For they knew Hitler was growing near
In Poland her career would soon to be
As she helped scared persecuted to flee
Gas chambers were yet to come
For not all heeded the warnings of this young one
Compassion and determination
Made her the first in reporting the War of all Nations
A thousand horses and a thousand horsemen
A thousand tanks, her story found both ink and pen
Hollering of the invasion to be
Her worth all would soon well see
As German troops invaded Poland
Her report the first of World War number 2
The first female War correspondent so new
Setting the stage for all the brave lasses who followed through
Days long ago when a woman’s job just wasn’t so
She led the way, helping thousands begin a new pathway
She was the model for those who came after
She never quit, until death's battle
Her beauty had faded at the age of one hundred and five
Her moxy and determination they stayed vibrant and alive
She sipped champagne to the very end, one oh five
A tear for the lady, whose bravery defeated an evil campaign
Clare au Lune
For all tiss worth
You were and angel
Brave on the front lines of truth
Rest in peace, divine, for all time
Patriot Guard funeral Escort
Loch David Crane
August, 2008
Today is sunny: with three dozen bikes,
some decorated cars, a pair of trikes,
two dozen Marines: all of the family
and toddlers to set their Daddy free
into the Great Beyond beyond the sky
where loved ones send their veterans who die.
Below our feet the stones give way to grass
where they are neatly trimmed; and as we pass
the names of strangers stare into the air
and we look back, wondering who lies there.
I won't step on a grave--I'll walk around
so not to insult those within the ground.
We ride at funerals honoring those vets,
brave men and women we have never met.
O Leader! O Savior! O Heart so Brave!
Words falter to honour the path you've paved.
The nation's core, now fortified with zeal,
We stand to combat, with spirits of steel.
No predator lurks, no harm to dread,
Your flame has scattered the shadows we fled.
Beneath the azure sky, the sun's bright gaze,
We bask in the light of liberated days.
You were the beacon, the guiding flare,
The vessel that carried us through despair.
Your name, a byword for valour's crest,
A voice for the silenced, an ear for the oppressed.
You granted wings to those who'd never flown,
To brave the wastelands, to face the unknown.
In your footsteps, we found our pace,
Learning to rise from the dust with grace.
Yet whispers claim you've departed our side,
The thought alone makes the hopeful tide.
Denial grips me; the news can't be true,
As the masses mourn, their sorrow is in view.
My pen trembles, heavy with unshed tears,
Echoing the solitary cry that sears.
I hold back the flood, let it inwardly weave,
May it nourish the love you've left us to grieve.
You are the whisper in the wind's call,
The strength that rises after a fall.
In the unity of one and all,
O Leader, O Braveheart, you never fall.
© 30/09/2014
Malik Yaseen
…the greatest poet who ever lived
…our Lord Jesus Christ
Wishes that wash upon the shallow shore,
Lacrimal lesions of the holographic whore…
Tectonic temptations, the lava shall pour,
Unleashing emotions, entombed we gore.
Mangled monuments of ruins regurgitate,
Surfacing megalomania of demons dominate…
Demonic destruction encroaches to infiltrate,
Demigods of desire will position to penetrate.
Distant horizons dissipating within plain sight,
Frigid frustrations amidst fore playing frostbite…
Detestation distortions of Hell’s agape appetite,
Antagonizing warring Angels take feverous flight.
Falling into oblivion within the blink of an eye,
Idempotent illusions making macabre to justify…
But there stands one soul, whose words do magnify,
Their love spreading thru asphyxiating air to clarify.
...background music by 'The Metal Heroes'
A tool tribute band... copy of 'Sinkfist'
Using a male virtual voiceover
June.24.2019
More To Me Poetry
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Placed 1'st...
Premiere Contest...
Thank You
A gathering of whispers travel from breath to breath,
much like trains picking up chattering gossips along its
route. With breath held, they stand and wait to join the
last exhale of the wretch standing on the hanging platform.
Whilst a judge washes the atrocity from a hand that held
a vacillating gavel. Forced into a considered judgement,
his conscience is clear. Much as a whip of feathers
forces the killer into killing more. Whilst the birds
above scream a lurid act of contrition for the return of
such pathos, their miniature thoughts oscillating between
current events and the feeding of hungry chicks. And hubris
carries a last meal beneath distaining eye, lost to nature's
sight, as it nears a fading gaol door. And whisper's finger
crawls around the corner, ready to cosette a neck held within
a gallows noose; hanging bulged against the fibre of its hemp
curtain call. Like a veined muscle strains against the skin.
And so, black in thought from the final deed, whisper
reaches its sanctuary hole, shaped long in the ground.
And whisper's voice, watching the earth worms preparing
the way for the soft flesh to come, speaks one final time
'Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine'
And an earth-harried soul is finally released