Best Posthumous Poems
"50 Words for Poe: Posthumous"
Moody dark man haunted mind
Lovecraft sleeps awake eyes open wide
while he writes Her, she possesses he, his lovely succubus Monster merrily
a deep embrace into his dreams spectral posthumous bride becomes her
Lovecraft sleeps awake eyes open wide
wild raging fever in his blood is She
a deep embrace into his dreams spectral posthumous bride becomes her
Dark Danvers dances naked laughing deliciously in the fire with he
Wild raging fever in his blood is She
his very own black-hearted soul sucking Calypso Nightmare Queen
Dark Danvers dances naked laughing deliciously in the fire with he
Beelzebub plays the fiddle burns it up so devilishly
His very own black-hearted soul sucking Calypso Nightmare Queen
penetrates his Lovecraft Church 'N Steeple mercilessly
Beelzebub plays the black organ inside he, burns it up so devilishly
Lovecraft is no Poe is he, now possessed by spectral posthumous bride
She becomes his poetry
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bf00KI2MEGg "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove"
The Dead Can Dance, Album:Into the Labyrinth
“In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulu waits dreaming” H.P. Lovecraft
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." Du Maurier
1.
Lovecraft
https://www.biography.com/people/hp-lovecraft-40102
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H._P._Lovecraft
2.
Du Maurier
“Rebecca”
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/oct/31/mrs-danvers-rebecca-daphne-du-maurier-baddies-books
Posthumous Limelight
My boy, a young lad, died fighting the Iraq war.
It could be any war, could be my son,
Your son or anyone's son, what does it matter?
All wars are same, all sons are same.
A lot of decorum, a lot many bravery medals
Came posthumously.
His name was in the newspapers-
Photographs everywhere-
Interviews-cameras-speeches!
Stop! Why can't everyone stop this superfluity?
I didn't ask for it! When did he ask for martyrdom?
Or for posthumous limelight?
Or a monument in the heart of the city?
Why build it? For your fame? Or his memory?
Nations, why can't your red hot coal hearts
Promote peace? My boy won't come on holidays-
He is on a perennial holiday!
He lies deep down in the earth to be smothered
By the cruel, cold stone erected above his uniform
And he, my son, in his uniform,
Fought to save some adamant men.
I lost my boy! Do you have memories
Of him laughing with his tilted head?
No one to feel my pain!
No one to see the pillow of my heart
Soaking in bloody tears when his bullet rid body
Was honoured and saluted!
Your war is over and my arms are empty.
I live in this empty house full of his photographs.
My bonnie gave your vengeance peace.
Your ego is fluttering in your triumphant flag.
You have won the war and I have lost the war!
THIRD
October 25, 2015
Contest: Any Sad Poem
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Third-Promote peace not war
*Image of Popular DJ Avicii (cutting himself & bled out)
AUDIO: from the film Gladiator, "Now We Are Free"
"Sometimes in life, we're just not cut out for it, hoping people see the point," by Poet
Soma Sonnet: Posthumous Soliloquy
As the blade search for the life of me,
The pain glides the blade with certainty,
Deeper the journey as my body writhe,
The agony lingers as I am denied relief,
~~now, let me be free
Thoughts mingle with the blood juice,
The wealth of data drowns and mutes,
Deliverer plunge to my conviction,
Released of a wretched disposition,
~~now, let me be free
Partakes in the realm of the soulless,
Contorted body claim to Earthiness,
Life teems, trilled sound, grassy green, central,
city's heart beats onward, minus a soul.
~~now, let me be free
Had all of it, all I forfeit, help me,
Your will is thy will now, let me be free
2022 August 17
Soma Sonnet: Posthumous Soliloquy
*1st Place*
Inner conflict
~~Unseeking Seeker: Judged 2022 August 20
I think I'll die before I live
from time to time, I suppose
life seems more take than give
a cynical opinion sometimes shows
Michael, Gabriel or Azrael may
come to bring me my pink slip
and leave my future in disarray
ticket punched for the return trip
yet if I can get the jump on it
go ahead and postulate anyhow
a posthumous life might better befit
than what I've got here right now
today's stance an intractable position
a life well lived, for argument's sake
could depart now of my own volition
and leave some witticism at my wake
then folks who knew me, not one iota
could say "just seemed to be so content"
"though lately colder than North Dakota"
"To hell is what I think was meant"
and maybe I'll live on in my words
to make life both meaningful and bold
'stead of day's living for the birds
a posthumous life a thing to behold
'course I might need to think again
considering all the prose and cons
my best thinkin' might be just insane
afterlife might be a big come on.
maybe it's not any better than this
my Shangri-La might be right here
too hard to look back and reminisce
if I just posthumously disappear
© Goode Guy 2011-06-27
dear friends, we're gathered here...
Posthumous
Cries in the town
Ruthless to say
A posthumous born
From southern gay
Legs were stopped
Gentleman wired
Your say for today
Hairless palate drawn
Towards to meet two eyes
No words for comments
Because all equal, same play
Dears, grow maize for breath
North has inflated hand for save
You sleep, as usual in sound
Because leaders answer in full fledge
Forget your children's future
Forget yourself for all
My town was dug for us to pay
No revenge, love affairs of citizens
Are you eating food or not!
No concern to remember
Hospitals' bed are turning at cold grave
strongest are traders and representatives
To kill you all in this beautiful play.
(Corpse's warns)
Fifth June 2021 you passed on to glory
Seven days to your 58th birthday
Today as the world celebrates
Your 59th posthumous birthday
Your legacy of love lives on
Your legacy of charity lives on
Your legacy of forgiveness lives on
One life for Christ was all you had
One life for Christ was so dear to you
He was your strength
He was your joy
He was your all
Without Him you would have fallen
Prophet TB Joshua happy birthday!
Four dead Jesuits,
now confirmed as child
molesters, but when alive
these monsters’ crimes,
were covered in
obfuscation.
And when they passed,
were the Last Rites recited
and are they buried
in sanctified grounds?
May their rest be as
unrestful as their
victims lives and
and the fitful sleep
of their confessors.
What, no applause?
No one told them they were supposed to like your work.
Like Dickinson and Van Gogh
One day your talents will surface
Posthumously, perhaps
Treasures uncovered
Would fate have it any other way?
*Inspired by Brian’s blog and written for his 1 to 8-line poem contest
The dead can still be warmly applauded
Who on us in some field had lorded
And his overripe honours remembered
Which he himself must’ve numbered.
A piece of provocation
When earnestly it had been waited for,
A never lessening expectation
From every supposed worshipping knock on his door;
Body movements of the dismayed at a delay,
Disappointed reflections on the sun being overhead and no hay.
On the palms of next of kin dropped
Who would his appreciation voice unstopped
But Alas not first mystically consulting the winner,
By this omission making himself some sort of sinner.
Arrives at a time
Winner’s earthly clock has ceased to chime
And he had off zoomed for a court business
That brooks no human witness.
Natural talent Jimmy’s heir apparent melodious
Line & length strength swing seam harmonious
Taking over from dream team still parsimonious
But Olly could be a wally & yet seemed oblivious
Bit podgy not fit enough blips and cantankerous
Dodgy quips off the cuff guff just all a bit vacuous
Gruff flips energy dips pace slips hardly valorous
Indolent & insolent temperament shamed odious
Thrown under a bus for Gus.. named cadaverous
Splendiferous famed career appears posthumous
We were savaged biblical ravaged plague of OZ locus
No respite Ashes debacle fanfare did blare rancorous
Ridicule the losing & boozing puss oozing pustulous
Anger that was clanger not banger completely bogus
Riff raff suss boys were all faff & fuss and so do cuss
We see wheat from chaff all naff Bazball hocus pocus
No fight just sh*te is playing for England too onerous
To our health the blight of this plight was hazardous
No focus Baz & Ben must choose real men the onus
ECB let them & Key get off scot free is very generous
Flowering again after long winter our towering crocus
To bring vertiginous rascal back not really scandalous
Not still languorous skill metronomic can be imperious
To harvest the county bounty for Test best ironic bonus
The big plus that Ollie actually does look like one of us
Which is why we fell for this fall guy & are still amorous
Learn did earn return for which we yearn not ludicrous
Annoint the sky high release point our humorous chorus
Astronomic wicket laden maiden from Cricket’s Lazarus