Long Epitaph Poems
Long Epitaph Poems. Below are the most popular long Epitaph by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Epitaph poems by poem length and keyword.
The Dogs we called Family
Tara came first and then there was Ben,
When both of them died we said never again.
Then Sam the runner, got killed in the street,
Prince came and went quick, we didn't know he was sick.
He came from a farm where distemper was rife,
Took him to the vet where he ended his life.
One year had to pass to get our house clear,
Without a mutt there, it seemed without cheer.
One day I was out and the Pound I happened to pass,
I doubled back and I looked through the glass.
Inside I walked, many dogs ignoring my stare,
Until one at the end looked up at me square,
Sat on her haunches both paws outstretched.
She's the one, I knew, so my family I fetched.
I said nothing to them of the dog I had seen,
When they saw the same one I knew they were keen.
The dog was due for the jab that very hour,
To save her life now was in our power, you see.
We paid the fee for her life, Our Lucy was free.
She was the new member added to our family of four,
She lived with us and loved us for 19 years more.
While she was with us we had another to add,
Along came Jamie the Yorkie,he was a bit of a lad.
Like Ben he stayed near ten years and sadly passed.
Lucy died of old age, we said it's time to give in.
Our Garden Cemetery of loved ones was full to the brim.
To Cyprus we came to retire and live in the sun,
Of a dog in the family we didn't want one.
Then a visit to Larnaca was to change our life again,
Because along came Lexi to start it all over again.
She was soon followed by Levi, he was a lively one,
Then came Eli, the whirlwind and pain in the bum.
So from just us two forever as we'd planned,
Now we were five and life was once again grand.
A sad day loomed we had no idea of what was to come,
Levi was walking wrong so we took him to the vet
He had hurt his spine, as bad as it could get.
His rear end gave out and could not be reversed.
He was paralyzed, and getting steadily worse.
The love he gave us in his life reduced us to tears.
The vet said it's time he confirmed our worst fears.
We let him go to where he could romp with all the rest,
All the dogs in our family, they were the best.
With Tara and Ben, Jamie,Charlie the Pinscher and Lucy too
Neo the Collie and Big Ben & Storm the Rottweilers two,
Newfoundland Curtis and Demon the Chow,
All Pals together, in the Big Kennel now.
© Dave Timperley May 5th 2016
what will you be remembered for when you have passed away?
what do you think most people will probably have to say?
what things would you like to be most memorialized about?
what things about you would your friends and family shout out?
what have you accomplished in life? what good works and deeds have you done?
where you a devoted servant of God or a disobedient one?
what significant mark on this world do you hope to leave?
will there be anyone around who for you will mourn or grieve?
will you have touched any souls or enriched any minds?
what type of lasting and living legacy will you leave behind?
when it comes time to take that final ride in that black stretch limo
what of your life's accomplishments will you want people to know?
for as naked as the day that you first appeared on this earth
what bare facts do you wish people would remember about you first?
a lasting and living legacy, your entry in the book of eternal life
will it be a legacy as a disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ
to have been a member of the family of the Most Holy Lord
to have been one who was called to come and get aboard
for you can't bargain, you can't scheme and to Him you cannot bribe
to have a place in God's heart where only truth and goodness reside
so as you travel your life's journey keep God always on your mind
don't sweat the small stuff not buy into the devil's lies
now turn to your sons, to your daughters, nieces and nephews
the future generation you need to reach out to
the children, the continuous legacy of our very lives
our children, the next generation of servants for Jesus Christ
introduce them to the Lord and leave a faith in them so strong
show them that your life was a living testimony to the Kingdom of which you belonged
let the children know that God has given them love, power and self-discipline
show them that there's nothing to fear but fear in the end
help them discover the gift to them that God did give
their true purpose, passion and destiny for which they should live
tell them that this faith has always been in your family
the inheritance of belief a lasting and living legacy
pass the baton of faith so your memory will keep on living
fan the flame of faith that which to you God has given
a strong belief system that you will pass on down the line
by living and leaving a legacy that will be remembered for all time
You were my delight my only child that I prayed for.
My joy overcrowded all thoughts from that day on
I burped you, changed your diapers, and watched you grow.
Take your first steps, I recall patting you to sleep,
Patting you, while you lay upon my chest, gently,
Listening to you fighting sleep, though ever so tired.
Remembering those times will be my epitaph always
Reading to you before you fell asleep each night,
You were more than my world; you were everything,
Then you were whisked away from my life so quick.
Lost I wondered within my mind, wanting, needing
Almost a decade of not knowing, not seeing you at all,
Missing the important years, my heart lost and faded.
My child was gone from my life, losing so very much.
Joy I felt upon that first day, I saw your eyes; I adored
You did come back though oh so distant from my life.
I was and always will be your daddy, loving forever.
Unconditionally, no matter what you do to anyone, or me
All my interests and endeavors are for your future and more.
Many things I was in failure to teach you through the years.
I was glorified beyond any blessings from children you bore.
I made mistakes I should have followed more closely at times.
Not wanting to intrude was my undoing, my ultimate crimes.
To me, part of life is making mistakes, learning, growing.
However, I failed to be there to help guide your travels.
My heart, soul, and mind gave all that I could within our time.
My homestead I gave, in love for you to grow stronger still.
However, I failed to promote the importance of its needs in depth.
Now I must prevent another failure, though you do not understand.
My boldness and refusal to your desires are for a better futures end.
Not to allow the return of a mistake in much anguish I attend.
To allow another to navigate the abode in current conditions,
Shall create more loss in one form or the other to no good ends,
My standing firm at this call is in the best interest to all indeed
My heartbreaks, my mind wallows in the failures of my past.
I must make a slight adjustment; though understand you do not.
Maybe in the future you will understand the strength I give.
These are some of my hardest days of life, for your daddy knows.
However, I must force the understanding of truth about life’s needs.
This is just one lesson I must teach before my end, This I know.
Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams
Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms;
hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches;
then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain;
for this is welcome shade from the burning sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whom Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there.
My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me
a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse,
a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies
I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords: ancient, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, lament, mourning, funeral, grave, death, death of a friend, dead, bereavement, eulogy, funeral, goodbye, loss
as the fresh morning utilized the Moons net
one last time before she turned in
while her other face puts on make-up
eagerly she waits to kiss...
Sunsprinkled showers of light
that frolic across the
ESH
R O
H L
T D
greeting me with interlocked
Rays of Righteousness
confirming my selfless request
IT WAS ANSWERED
meaning
a release of agony
will be
confiscated
by the soft breath
of the
Cosmos Canticle Clouds
wearing perma-smiles
since the moment
Creation
began...
they were given the responsibility of tickling dreams
subconsciously sleeping
as prosophobia promised physical penumbras
a chance to meet a mystical madrigal
that merged with a marvelous Merkaba
that was spinning...
On The Sultan Sea watching solarbears
swimming with spirituality...
they were there that day...
LEARNING...
to heal hearts
by offering a sip
from
The Fountain Of Youth...
letting go of this worlds reins
as this world prepares to let go of us
So sad really...
yet, in a beautiful way...
like bidding farewell to family...
AND WE'RE ALL FAMILY...
this too shall pass...
into portal pools of the past...
solidifying our memories that become...
shared stories through the communities stereo...
skipping like a silly star across the galaxy
SHINING...
supremely sharing their spirals...
through supersonic sound...
ECHOING...EChoinG...EChoIng....echoing...
through the Universe in unison
ushering energies to take a seat on leather stars...
THANKING US...
for our pin-cushioned patience...
PLEADING...
US...
to play the pastel piano
known to spray kinetic knots
knitted atop the night
by a kind knight...
as the notes could be seen leaving the first clouds property
taking in the changes of the song....
that became beautiful bolts
of bronze blessings...
blanketing the Earth
in brimstone pinecones...
that disintegrated into driftwood gatherings
Gathered by the Elect and The Elite, and their earsoothing
acapella epitaph...
causing rest...
might as well rest up for the next rendezvous...
my apologies I'm unable to stay...
for some reason its always been like this
and I wouldn't want it any other way...
I just Pray when I return I'm able to remember
MY ORIGINAL
NAME...
Rest In Peace
P.S.
see you in the trees
I have waited so long to compose a new song; I have waited so long for you to come along. Time is setting fire underneath my feet; time is igniting a motion in the third degree; time is raking up the dust and everyone is getting ready to board the bus.
The sun is setting fire to my mind and the journey from mega peak to California is divine .
I am walking in a straight line and the clouds in Angola are dancing about causing the people to run and shout. What on earth has gone wrong?
The Angolans are chanting a mournful song today they are here tomorrow they are there and the wind is blowing through the trees and moving across the hemisphere littering the avenue and the streets.
They have been waiting for fifteen years underneath the trees on a political promise that had no legs but it came in time when Obama had something to sell and nothing to tell.
Sixty-three thousand of them waited in the bush living in the wilds honey all day with nothing to cook, they survive every day on water and grain to enter America visa free but the promise was not fulfilled.
A new administration came along and everyone was singing a different song and the deal died peacefully in the bushes.
The new administration began to shout and the bush people’s fate was worse than before. They were tossed in different directions, and forced out of the woods to go and fend for themselves.
The sick and destitute start moving around in crotches and long gowns, and the old and feeble trod along praying to Allah in the woods but time propels them in different direction and the Americans watch from the big screen an epitaph of a broken promise lying among the trees and the promise was covered with dirt and those that survived moved boldly with courage to another place.
I have waited so long for you to come along to listen to your story of how you escaped from glory,
I have waited for so long to have a decent shower and walk in the book shops to feast my eyes on new literature.
I want to look at some focused recipe and the ingredients that is mixed with dusts and those that cause you to fuss. A combination of truths will draw a fine line around those terrific boots.
I have waited for so long to compose this song so meet me underneath the tree and sing along with me.
Time To Shower...When Pervasive Odor Of Ureic Acid
Doth strongly waft, sting,
and nauseate about me
olfactory nose flying zone
bombarding cilia of
nasal passageway analogous
to displeasure wrought by
crashing, deafening, exploding,
ear splitting xylophone,
also synonymous isolated like
barenaked lady within
remote location of Lake Woebegone,
voluntarily forced to bathe
in brutally cold
mountain waters oxbow lake
vaguely resembling out
size topographical wishbone
rescue unlikely since
bajillion miles from radio tower,
thus state of the art
electronically sophisticated videophone
good as worthless resignation,
sans fate linkedin tubby
mother nature's cryogenic specimen
more'n murmuring undertone,
where huge Arctic glacier overshadows
infinitesimally microscopic human,
one speck kin zee ditched
*****sapien subsumed
under superfluous tombstone
as frozen fountain head,
where Atlas shrugged,
nonetheless incongruous yen
to purge mine offensive odor,
where civilization footprint
sole lee mine alone in wilderness
thus farcical reason (without rhyme),
atypical, farcical, and poetical title,
yours truly didst stirrup and spur
inexplicable search for soapstone,
yet prospect to don measly frame
without gay apparel
(beastie boy bit figurative bullet,
and buttressed body in buff)
immediately augmented primal scream
to trumpet heebeegeebees
(teeth chattering yodeling
rendition re: stayin alive)
from this Rhinestone
survivalist cowboy wannabe,
began feeling comfortably numb,
and immediately prone
to become human popsicle,
especially when sub zero temperature
immediately froze water splashed skin
(like glassy sheet of ice)
glancing viz albedo effect
as blindingly white
snow capped mountains outshone
albino crags, offering
absolute zero, yes none
reassurance with insulated moonstone
sleeping bag useful
as yolked with lodestone
around neck - slow death by
freezing this knucklebone,
who sought cleanliness,
(and panacea to immortality)
joining exclusive polar bear club
(Ursus Maritimus very selective,
and only chose me) even
at expense of more'n
just frozen jawbone
plus Jack frost bitten cockles turned
deep purple as inkstone
used to write re: scrawl epitaph
on icicle glommed headstone.
> I do not know if this qualifies as poetry. I take my ideas from the news, or what happens in life around me. I hope you don't mind. My good news is I do not have cancer now, and it's only just beginning to sink in. I wonder why I survived and not my younger sister. I would have given my life for her. Sadly He does not do deals either. does He?
I made a deal with Satan.
It's time to sleep.
It's time to sleep, to rest my head.
Upright on my frame adjusted bed.
Head held up, feet protected too.
Bet you wonder what I do?
Just pumping up my pressure mattress now.
Gives me back relief, somehow.
Air goes in air comes out.
Like that referendum, that's about.
Tonight I think, I must asleep. My cancer it has gone.
Hospital did peep. Inside of me with a CT scan.
They said, I'm clean, yes Stan the man.
No cancer rests inside of me. None of it could they see.
I guess now I am fit and well. Satan will call me now to hell.
You see, I made him a deal. Was not hard to do.
If he sent all innocents to heaven. I'd pay with my life, it's true.
Then when I'm lodging, deep up there. As hell is not here anywhere!
I'll sort hell out, that's what I'd do. Be soon, like heaven. I'm telling you.
No terrorists will reside there. I'll work that out, I don't care.
I'll get them to clean the furnace there.
Shut them all in no doubt. Oh no, I won't let them out.
I'll rake their ashes finally out. Scatter them, I will.
Not on land,will they fall. But sink in the oceans deep, they will all.
Then, heaven and hell will be okay. Oh! Did I forget to say.
The other pact I made with Satan was, for me to come back to earth!
Fighting fit, Armour on, ready to send all terrorists, right where they belong.
I've made a deal with Satan, and soon all terrorists will be gone.
Of course I would like to go to heaven when He calls But I wonder if I could really tolerate that floral dance of Sir Terry's for eternity. I have not really made a pact with the devil, honest, I would not know how. And it would take a far cleverer person than me to pull the wool over Satan's eyes. After all he is supposed to know everybody's bad points, isn't he? Have a nice day everyone. I did and as i said, the reality is just sinking in. (The mad author)<
Ethel Hurst
1889 – 1918
I saw the town rise up
Like a single blade of grass after a spring rain.
I played a multitude of hop-scotch games
With my best friend Hannah on Penn Street.
And sipped a hundred ice cream sodas in the Mercantile at sunset.
My mother took me to Jacob’s Grocery every Monday
And it was I who picked the plump oranges
From the big rickety crate.
On Saturdays we worked the fields at Strong’s Ranch,
Harvesting the pampas in the walnut fields.
And on Halloween I was the girl in the moon-face costume for five straight years.
When Christmas brought its luminous lights to the town,
Mother dressed me in red with a bell on my bonnet.
And father sang the carols with a guitar and a tambourine.
I graduated from the big high school in 1907
And in celebration,
Rode my bicycle to Bassett
Still in my starched graduation petticoats.
Jesse Forbes,
He being five years younger than I,
Was the love of my brief stay on this earth.
But when he ventured to steal a kiss that day in Black Canyon,
I used my calloused hand to convey my stern disagreement.
But what wild regrets I’ve entertained since Jesse drowned that day.
In the wild currents by Pio Pico’s crumbling Adobe,
His body bobbing like a sea bird
In the punishing plume of that old deep river.
Beyond the muddy banks and the wild flowers,
Jesse Forbes left this life with a surprised frozen grin.
Why Jesse? Why?
You never knew the truth, my love.
You never really understood what I meant
When I said nothing.
I said No to you when I said nothing that day in Black Canyon,
But I really meant Yes.
The influenza incinerated my heart and soul
With a 106 temperature in the winter of 1918.
Twenty nine years I dare say
Is nothing in terms of eternal life!
I had so much more to do!
I had so much more to dream about!
I walked and talked on the streets of my town,
And on the funeral-dark avenues of my innocent days.
And I planned and I schemed
And all for nothing!.
Indeed, I felt the pulse of fleeting time
And the never-ending,
Ever-turning circle of endless days.
But now I rest here in Clark Cemetery… a virgin corpse
Flirting shamelessly with the bow-tie worms,
Still wild with regrets.
And forever haunted in reverse
By the same recurring memory
Of Jesse Forbes holding a rose.
Under the old oak tree in Black Canyon..
My epitaph writ large...
courtesy third person singular.
Mise en scène pour décès
pardon his feeble attempt at French,
a unilingual English language
quibbling, and scribbling mensch
strongly advises applying
left handed monkey wrench,
which custom designed tool
assigned impossible mission
to discern sense and sensibility
regarding following poetic thread
subject of a fool's errand.
Mein kampf witnessed, punctuated,
and evinced courtesy final breath
automatically triggering (tumblr
to activate) final curtain call
and unremarkable death.
As stipulated in the living will
cremation of his lifeless body
cremated into soft gray powder.
A prerecorded hashtagged obituary
downloaded to individual smartphones
and simultaneously appeared on
the following poetry websites:
COSMOFUNNEL, Hello Poetry,
Neopoet, My Poetic Side, Poetry Soup,
PoetryNook, PoetryVibe, Prose|
A community of readers and writers,
and All Poetry.
He hesitated and lost out
on game of life big time
even fumbling crafting reasonable rhyme
noshing, spending, and whiling
inordinate amount of hours
squirreled away in his bedroom
surrounding himself with reading material.
He amassed fountainhead of knowledge
quietly engorging cerebral gray matter
whereat noggin swelled up
rivaling globe, but Atlas shrugged
at him, whose head
resembled the first Chinese brother
who swallowed the sea.
Odd his voracious appetite
to buzzfeed with one
after another binary byte
zealous precocity to engross himself
with storied reading material
that does extremely excite
(at the expense of healthy socialization)
where his imagination took flight,
nevertheless myopic eyes of his
did glean insight
keeping his cute button nose
between pages of choice morsels
to appease hunger
keeping himself awake
drinking high test coffee
during darkness aided by jacklight
processing meaty material with might
experiencing abundant, exultant,
intoxicant, over-extravagant
joie de vivre day or night,
a balm, elixir, inebriate... quite
the panacea to abet emotional incapacitation
which entails crafting poems
oftimes spending efforts
with efforts undertaking rewrite
unwittingly garnering a fanbase
courtesy ideology doth unite.