If being pretty were a crime, you’d already be behind the bars
Because angels look at their reflection and wish they had your smile
And I’m not sentimental, but to you I must confess:
I’ve waited ages to find someone whose beauty can compare
If my poems were eulogies, you’d be nothing short of dead
Because not romanticizing you would be lying to myself
And how could I not when you give me those eyes?
The look that makes me think that burning can feel fine
If hell is real, maybe we’ll meet there again
Because if being heavenly was a sin, that’s where you’d be sent
And if to love you is to be doomed, then save me a seat in the flames
Because I wouldn’t mind going if it meant I’d meet you there
Categories:
eulogies, 11th grade, boy, crush,
Form: Free verse
Live on Facebook
I post rubbish
To caress the spook
Who dares to finish
The sleep I lose
In the wee hours of nights
Disturbed by the booze
I swill in my fights
Against strictures
Society calls taboos
In lampoon literatures
That scorn the tattoos
Adorning my arms
My torso, my neck
Without the qualms
Society spots in a speck
Akin to a storm in the teacup
Society perceives in the freedom
I enjoy as new ideas snap
From disorders in the fiefdom
Where new generations see a future
Teeming with new technologies
New social media whose cogent culture
Defies archaic eulogies and their synergies.
Categories:
eulogies, poems,
Form: Free verse
You listen to the eulogies
Describing someone’s life,
With focus on the happy times
But little on the strife…
The anecdotes to make us laugh
And nod our heads – that’s him!
The picture boards depicting shots
When he was young and slim.
To capture who a person was
Once death has staked his claim
Is like watching reruns of the highlights
Of a tennis game.
You get the gist and understand
How all the points combine
But a life is so much more than just
Where spotlights choose to shine.
Categories:
eulogies, death of a friend,
Form: Rhyme
FOR EULOGIES UPON EULOGIES
FOR MURDERED SONS…
No eulogy can change the present or the past,
Neither charter the course of the future;
Nor coming resurrection.
No commentary can ease lingering pain
Nor the dejection of piercing grief.
For the widow and motherless,
Is there no shame?
What a mockery of free at last:
The confined grave, the only place of relief.
Only for the crucifixion of His begotten Son,
Can God be given the blame;
Mercy on those who’ve played Him with a gun.
Categories:
eulogies, bereavement, death, grief, hurt,
Form: Elegy
At funerals, we listen as
The anecdotes are shared.
Some speakers prattle off the cuff
While others are prepared.
The congregation laughs when tales
Embody the deceased.
Those chortles let the tears subside
As tension is released.
As relatives and friends reflect,
Each listener may wonder,
What stories will be told of me
When I’ll be six feet under?
A life that lasted decades
Leaves a void, to some, immense;
Yet just a few examples
And that essence we condense.
The mourners may be left with wisps
Defining the departed,
Such quick-drawn sketches meant to soothe
The not-so-broken-hearted.
Vignettes can only say so much,
Though comfort they provide.
To those who count, there’s much more left
Than words, when someone’s died.
Categories:
eulogies, death, funeral, on writing
Form: Rhyme
George
Carlin
Stand-up guy
Hippie-dippy
FM, AM, banned words, silly putty
Booze, pain-pills, expedited heart failure
untimely loss
bright void left
empty
still
By: Nancy Jones
For entry into Michael Falitico's "Smiles and Frowns" contest
Categories:
eulogies, people
Form: Tetractys
Certain it is to be at steady aim
at any time
at any place
the dead mans eternal race
Shock the barstool
take the shots
given by the winged sculptures who gawk from the pughes
A pecking order in the house of flocks
Not important enough for dirt
decomposition of the minds eye comes last
Anatomy has no hidden agenda
just a set of character traits it’s amassed
Forced entry
Chalk it up to bad luck
dead as a doornail
stiff as a board
the cliches have run amuck
Just a standard breach of contract
between humanity and oblivion
Don't take offense
Trust there will be no forgiving
So what is said
at the end of your life
if the question is "how was it truly living?"
Categories:
eulogies, art
Form: Free verse
those men of conscience
of whom where great
we rare give tribute
till them be late
Categories:
eulogies, death, life, philosophy,
Form: Epigram