Signed X’s and O’s
Through the tears…despite my fears,
I’ll be back home again.
Though the war rages for endless ages,
I’ll be back home again.
Though I’m far away from you,
You have no need for concerns,
For my love remains true,
And my passion still burns,
And I’ll be back home again.
Though its dark and lonely here,
Thoughts of you keep me strong.
Being kept from you is my only fear,
But I know it won’t be for long,
And I’ll be back home again.
And though the time I must be away
Drags slowly on and on,
We both know there will come a day
When from this hell I’ll be gone,
And I’ll be back home again.
And though I say, “Don’t forget to pray,”
That I’ll be back home again,
And when I’m through, you’ll know it’s true,
‘Cause I’ll be back home again.
When it’s my turn to come back home,
It’s on the first plane I’ll be,
With no more desire to roam,
And it’s your lovely face I’ll see
When again I’m back home.
I’ll do what I must,
And in God I trust,
While my service I complete,
Till I’m back home my sweet.
Signed with X’s and O’s--
That’s how the letter closed,
That the chaplain brought to her door.
A soldier back home never more…
The big bronze bell was tolling
From the façade of St Peter’s
An incessant toll above death
88 clangs from its open mouth
The Angelus Bell rang out
For the years of Francis’ life
Over the sky of Rome
A clear celestial blue
The blue of the Virgin mother
Through which we see God
Men of the clergy on the right
Royals and politicians on the left
The chorus sings the Requiem
No melody can melt away
The broken world of sin
Nor wake the dead lying alone
In a wooden box on the cold stone
As the mourning clouds rolled in
A Real Bodhisattva
A bodhisattva is the Buddhist equivalent
Of a warrior for Christ, who is well on their way
To being Christlike themselves.
Of course there are many degrees of bodhisattva
From those who only have the wish to be
To those who actually are.
Literally millions are examples of the former.
The Dalai Lama is a good example of the latter.
Real bodhisattvas are rare.
Their hallmark is infinite love and compassion
For all beings
Combined with deep insight
Into the true nature of reality.
This week the world lost a real bodhisattva
In the form of a young American patriot,
Who at just 31 years old
Had successfully reached a whole generation
Galvanizing many young people
To critically look within
And embrace traditional American values
Of family, honesty, integrity, openness,
Love, tolerance, inclusivity, and faith.
And for this he was martyred.
The world is a better place
For having known Charlie Kirk.
But it is certainly not a better place without him
Unless we take up his mantle
Take the torch, and shield and sword
And become real warriors of Christ
Bodhisattvas in the army of truth.
(9/12/25)
From the get-go
My brain played games
Making two plus six hard to learn
Denying reaction to music too.
I found solace in the mop
It never argued back
Or said
“Pina can’t get that.”
Yes, I could.
It was just easier to make you think
I could not.
I married late
Birthed two divine girls
Had no regrets
Smiled to all.
In the end a tumor took me
My brain did not
Fight back.
A force of nature, with a heart so grand,
She walked this earth, a light in the land.
Our Auntie Dana, fierce and free,
Like the hammerhead shark she loved to see.
She navigated life's deepest, darkest seas,
Finding solace and strength on her bended knees.
In the Bible, her compass, she found her way,
Guiding her through each and everyday.
For her three boys, her love knew no bound,
In their triumphs, her greatest joy was found.
Then came the grandkids, a new chapter to start,
Each one a treasure held close to her heart.
Aunt to so many and mother to all,
With laughter and cheer,
she banished our sorrows, our every fear.
Her witty humor, her infectious grin,
A beacon of warmth, from deep within.
Though she faced tempests and trials unkind.
A beautiful spirit, she left behind.
So let her memory live, a whisper on the breeze,
Among the vibrant, sunlit, whispering trees.
A testament to a beautiful, brave, and loving heart,
From which we never, ever, have to part.
Love you Aunt Dana, We will miss you!
ALEXANDRIA
I came late to Jesus,
Got cancer before my time,
Watched my husband die,
Found my baby drowned.
What did I do wrong?
Followed His church’s way,
Never missed a Sunday mass,
Confessed my sins religiously.
Refused to hear the call
For contraception—
That was not God’s way.
I made Him a dozen babies.
Why’d he punish me?
My faith wasn’t always strong.
Still, I never strayed,
Took communion regularly.
I prepare myself to meet my Maker.
Doctor says I only have a day or two.
Jesus, come to me—
Save me from eternal void.
RELEASE
For loving memory
She must depart
Forever lovely
Forever apart
My lilac of beauty
White satin dream
In solitude and raindrops
Forever it seems
Lamentations alone cannot stop
the bleeding of the land at the ankles,
nor stop the tears of Deluge
Grief matters little in a prophesied
pogrom, for a general death is
not reckoned with evil —
And prophecies shall remain with rain
forty days and forty nights;
And the empty trenches of Desert
shall be filled, her sands mired
upon the gluey spittle of the rains;
Even oases shall puke their water
upon broken rocks —Desert treasures.
When the sun lies in witness to this
history, with ancestral brown drums
saluting yonder,
lamentations shall be futile.
"The essence in us is the same as the essence of the sun”
Dweller of our heart
A sun went out, a silent, sudden night,
and left a shadow where once there was light,
For in our chests, a solar flame still burns,
A borrowed heat that twists and gently turns.
The essence in us is the same as the essence of the sun,
And so your light, though gone from sight and sound,
Is now a warmth within this hallowed ground.
You live in me, a dweller in the core,
A part of fire I am now and evermore.
Though earth received what was your final form,
You shine within, and keep my spirit warm.
When i die,
Lay me by
Where the wildflowers grow
Then as I lay,
You can pray
For my presence to ‘round you flow
And as winter calls,
And the ice falls
And makes my grassy mound rise with snow
Let spring bloom,
Flowers on my tomb
Grow in the sun’s heat and the wind’s gentle blow
As summer rises,
Bringing heat to new sizes
And away my spirit to where few do know
Finally when fall sighs
Watch as the leaf flies
As a reminder of the deadly reaping of what I did sow
Our hands are tied, Death
Since you dawned on us this New Year . . .
Shapely bottles of champagnes have shone
And have broken to fragments with the ululation
Of firecrackers that warmed cold and dark wintry skies.
Now, aphonia sets in from unending lamentations.
Headlines, buried by the chilly bones of winter,
Are barren of good tidings.
A chionophile besieges the rim of a sedulous Yuletide
Grieving by oneiric alleys . . .
I speak of the Friedhof of haunting grimness behind
The curtains of howling winds;
Chants that frequent the disease of frightened melodies, stained
With the aged banality of youthful death;
And the purlieu of cremated souls and consolidated ashes.
Daggers are drawn to paint skulls on canvas slit by the
Whispering tongues of fire
Candles burn their tallow gently on the skin of cancer,
A stinkaroo that stinks with rage.
We do not know how else to turn the calendar.
The edges brim with hostile, burning blood,
Frozen with bits of hate and servile penetralia.
New Year hangs the singed sigil of death
On the bosom of fattened scrolls.
Softly, the sun shimmers with golden glimmers
as a sanguine sunset dances a marvelous minuet.
Past the time of twilight skies, another day slowly dies,
only to be reborn again on tomorrow's misty morn.
With the warmth of radiant rays, Sol deftly displays
Dawn's luminous light in place of celestial starlight.
On the highway, by air, by sea
By faith
You stood in the gap for me
For All have done for me
The doors were always locked
Against me.
Until you became the door
For me
You stood in the gap for me
The hordes of hades came for me
With sickness and diseases
You came in the Word that
Healed me
You stood in the gap for me.
Different individuals, yet sharing the same heart,
Different individuals, yet united by the same vision.
They emerge from their shelters at dawn,
Invigorated by the morning light.
Boys with diverse talents,
They transformed the unused and discarded.
Boys of profound grace,
They knew how to summon the elements to do their bidding.
Boys of insight and wisdom,
They were regarded as blessed by the Divine.
Boys of remarkable strength,
They toiled from dawn until twilight.
They were separated in their search for the fullness of light,
Venturing apart in their quest to understand the mysteries of the night.
One by one, they disappeared,
Lost to the unknown,
Veiled by the unseen.
July 24, 2025.
So, as the Crazy Train hits the last stop
down that long Randy Rhode,
let's gather in the dining car,
put a fork in the War Pig,
and feast on bat heads.
RIP Prince of Darkness.
Specific Types of Elegy Poems
Read wonderful elegy poetry on the following sub-topics:
animals, christmas, death, dog, family, friendship, funny, kids, life, love, music, nature, rhyme, sad, school, sports
and more.
Definition | What is Elegy in Poetry?