Best Requiem Poems

Someone who knows
Said You were an old ancient Tree,
But at the time, it didn’t really matter, 
Or seem important to me.
I knew You only for a very short time 
and just a little…
You see.
Your transparent light green baby hands
Outside my window Waving 
And dancing, shaking...

Continue reading...

Within her frail shell, death abides
through the final hours, I remain by her side
fearing a forsaken place of webs that lie in rows
of haggard fields where everything forbidden grows
surrounded by caverns of mortal's deserted bones
she faintly whispered, "I want to go home"

Death awakens the wandering...

Continue reading...

As light escapes, the lustrous moon ascends
a prelude to the majesties of night
with shining constellations that transcend
and shooting stars that burn with heaven's light.

Night's canopy unfurls its galaxies
with planet earth along the milky way
to join with glorious skies, orbiting so free
unique with life, an abundant,...

Continue reading...

Call me not a child,
Treat me with adult words,
Eyes that scan the essence,
And see the centuries I have lived.
Ancient soul though young flesh, 
Half my heart remains in an older existence. 

I wish to feel the gentle,
The tenderness that comes with love,
Finger tips soft and...

Continue reading...

 Requiem of a Phoenix 

Silhouettes and storm clouds loom, 
etched against a blackened sky
by bolts of electric blue
and ashen moon rays.
I mourn at dusk; the death of the light. 

Languid flames dance 
from tree to tree, 
as a passing of the torch
to the sacrificial...

Continue reading...

I found a dove lying broken
I knelt just as it died.
It had chosen my high window
as its own patch of blue sky.

A young dove it appeared to be,
too young to know or care
that windows are seductive
when one's flying in the air.

It was too young to...

Continue reading...

In the outskirts, where whispers weave through the wind,
there stands a farmhouse, its timbers groaning with secrets,
a silhouette etched against the horizon’s fading light.

Once, it was alive, pulsing with the beat of day-to-day,
but now, it’s shrouded in a cloak of solitude,
walls lined with the echoes...

Continue reading...

The rising sun has set.
Night has fallen.
The plow rests,
tillage and toil finished.
The corn ear withers,
but seeds are saved.
The scrolls are opened
event recorded;
the news spread:
"The sun has set,
the old Owl has flown
into the Heavens."

Yet, the sun will rise
and peek over the horizon,
the tractor will roar,
a new...

Continue reading...

On a sultry, sizzling July day
I swear it happened just this way
In a tidal pool, a lifeless seahorse lay

He’d not galloped to meet his fate
But was caught in a wave’s cruel wake
High tide retreated, closed the gate

Oh, to have seen him in his prime
Not corralled...

Continue reading...

Released and slowly drifting to the earth,
the leaf departs her tree in mournful grace;
though both will live to see another birth,
none same will be returning in her place.
We meet as always in the space between
the branch's bud and parting leaf stem's end;
a tearful eye, a...

Continue reading...

The outside world waiting, 
Full of sublime buildings and parks, 
As she sits upon the dusty sheets of the bed, 
Eyes bloodshot and hurting,
Stomach rumbling, 
Nights spent wide awake, 
Days spent within the confines of a small room.

Her mind has a grip on every part...

Continue reading...

Silver-lined beckoning moon beams
dance along, disquieting sacred ground
unmasked by truth, barefoot unencumbered
broken promise-laden blue eyes.

You whispered flame into existence
as if a stark naked sheath of sparkling
midnight velvet skies, haunted in surreal angst 
revealing the beauty I will never possess.

Lost in revelry, the tune continues to...

Continue reading...

There is beauty in the dying of the day
where shadows lengthen in the dusk
waters ripple with enchanted hush
as twilight chases the sunlight away.









Stanza from Dying of the Day poem
written on 10/17/2019...

Continue reading...

Written: February 13, 2023
           ____________________________________________

An anathema for,
pilose nettle burns,
an art form of unstable feathers,
tropes across the ivory cuticles.
Melted mascarpone in a figurine,
pearlescent obsidian,
hooping sapped spirit,
sight of the blue sky.
within her boneless flesh,
the artist grumbles severely,
in...

Continue reading...

Requiem


The map to Requiem
Is often long, confused, and composed
By differing charters...Also
Too layered to sort.  So many movements!
Even the very shortest of lives
Could story a magnum opus
When tracked to its core.
A Requiem for one elderly
Could fill an orchestra’s entire concert 
Season of song!
The roads to...

Continue reading...