Long Memoriam Poems
Long Memoriam Poems. Below are the most popular long Memoriam by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Memoriam poems by poem length and keyword.
April 25 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on 2Chronicles 23-25
*2 Chronicles 25:8 But if thou wilt go, do it, be strong for the battle: God shall make thee fall before the enemy: for God hath power to help, and to cast down.
Lord God, You Are My Power
Lord God, You are my Power against temptations of worldly reign
Thank You for being my Guide toward Your will, devoid of sinful strain
Surely, You’re my Foundation Who braces me upon holiness-terrain
While I minister to others along tender mercy’s gain.
Lord God, You are my Power against snares of feebleness
Thank You for being my Commander along paths of holiness
Surely, You’re my Master Who deserves my praise-earnestness
While I rejoice with singing midst spirited worshipfulness.
Lord God, You are my Power against attacks of corruption
Thank You for being my King Whom I submit to with full devotion
Surely, You’re my Lord Who controls me by Your compassion
While I serve You, participating in Your great commission.
Lord God, You are my Power against threats of sorrows
Thank You for being my Leader toward hopeful tomorrows
Surely, You’re my Protector Who shields me from doubt-arrows
While I fulfill stewardship roles despite challenges’ furrows.
Lord God, You are my Power against issues of controversy
Thank You for being my Wisdom along truth-fervency
Surely, You’re my Teacher Who instills Scriptures’ inerrancy
While I pursue discipleship with Your doctrines’ consistency.
Lord God, You are my Power against guilt of shallow commitment
Thank You for being my Anchor, propping servanthood engagement
Surely, You’re my Captain Who directs toward kingdom advancement
While I share the Gospel midst soulwinning involvement.
Lord God, You are my Power* against hurts of misery
Thank You for being my Listener for my prayer victory
Surely, You’re my Supplier Who provides with Your resources’ dowry
While I trust Your assurance fully, always faithful throughout history.
April 25, 2023
Poem of the Day (POTD), April 26, 2023
This is featured in the book, Reflections on the Important Things (500+ poems on important life subjects such as nature, faith, mental health, romance, in memoriam, and humor. Paperback – November 15, 2023) by Arczis Web Technologies (Author), PoetrySoup (Author)
In Memoriam Quietly Always Close
Are they whispers, then, settling
So gently upon that slightest breeze wending
Over the granite crosses and statues of cradling angels,
Which stand in their long cemetary rows?
Stating each name of the one passed on with
There-on etched, too, the noting of time alive
And telling of the beloved, who hum there their slow laments;
Who send up colorful balloons to celebrate their love and
Take far their silent greetings in the sky.
Are they lullaby heartsongs, which
Rise on sprigs of heaven-bound light,
So tunefully sweet for love’s addressed, aided
By a league of angellic composers
In their lyrical rounds from above our earthly sphere?
Are these the places of our hushed sympathies?
The places we lay over our dear ones
All the broken pieces of the grieving heart’s still longing
To stay in some way forever near, and, so, we linger thoughtfully
Criss-crossing the undulating final verdigris
Landscape, which embraces the last remains ~
Resting on in heaven’s wait for that further journey going on.
Are these faint mists surrounding
So many hours of our own remaining days —
Which are spent summoning back the stories, the touches,
The eyes that happily cast their glance into our own —
Not truly our tears
Being turned to magnifying memories,
Prayerfully appearing with each
Dusk’s close of day and placid rise of the radiant moon?
Do see that the soundless falling is our aching?
Is a furor — burst of pure, white snow:
A flash of a blizzard, looking nearly weightless,
Landing in silence, but
Incongruously, falling heavily down, into those forming crystalline layers
To dress a seeming lace-like çover over all the stone markers
With a luminous beauty, revealing a metaphor, ineffable
~ Blessed markers of life itself set here before us
Within reach of meeting the Divine.
—————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/5/2023
(Written for Jennifer Wilson & Maggie Hopkins in loving
Memory of James Hopkins, spouse, father, & friend) Also written with the inspiring power of images of the 9,000 marking gravestone crosses in Normandy, France, and sights of Arlington Cemetary, Washington, D.C.
Written to unaccompanied cello Suite 1 in G major, perfomer Yo Yo Ma
Thanks be to God…
Transitions and Contrasts: Just like the Seasons
Scorching, sweltering, drying, draining
The Candle of the Sky, now a supernova
Chirping birds cry out for drops of draught,
The strays of streets too, dying or suffering.
The poor farmer’s heart, broken,
Like his dry and barren field and feet.
His wife’s sweaty palms trying to support
The pot on her head, and the babe on her hip;
Her anchal over her face, trying in vain,
To shield it from heat and dust.
Fifty miles away,
The businessman complained,
His AC is not good enough, and he can’t sleep.
Then the rains come down,
Soaking the land, pleasing the heart.
Kids splashing and screaming,
Coffee mugs and snack trays steaming,
Isn’t it time for music and romance?
But the single mother who couldn’t go to work,
Worried about her leaking roof
And her child’s still wet school uniform.
Spring came, colours and flowers,
Is there a fragrance always in the air?
Butterflies and dragonflies shimmering,
It’s time for festivals, (is it Onam yet?)*
Shouldn’t there be new clothes and feasts?
Oh, but no one back home, no one remains.
And for the grandpa who is alone in the bungalow,
What for is Onam if he is alone?
Winter comes with lights, gifts and carols.
Shimmering stars, bells and beauty.
Christmas and New Year,
Glory to God and Peace on earth,
Beauty and smiles; love and hope,
But is there a hope for the freezing homeless
Their hunger and longing
For bread and lodging?
Autumn stood there, silent witness,
Forgotten, yet calm and composed.
Trying to get rid of the scorching heat,
Before the squall and cold numbness come.
And they repeat year after year,
Never letting the world forget,
All is dynamic,
Constant in its inconsistency
.We puny mortals, mere actors, observers,
Too turn sentimental, passionate and cold.
Shed tears like the monsoon,
Turn angry like summer,
Cold like the winter
And fragrant like the spring.
We see the pain around,
Sometimes lament, sometimes turn angry,
Often be apathetic but still hope for Spring.
*Onam is the spring festival of Kerala, a state in India which also marks reunion of families and
nostalgia for home. In the urbanised world often this gets ignored as family
reunions rarely happen, therefore dampening the spirit of the festival.
Anne-Lise Andresen- "Hugs"
Anisha Dutta- "Sweet Lady"
Beata Agustin- "Spiritual"
Bill Baker- "Friend from Texas"
Brandy Nicole- "Whispers & Scribbles"
Brian Sambourne- "One of my Canadian besties"
Brian Sand- Contest #10,000 (lol)-keep 'em coming, Brian!
Carolyn Devonshire- "Sweet Caroline" (R.I.P. dear Carolyn)
Christina Bowring- "Hugs & Smiles"
Constance la France- "Cats"
Craig Cornish- "Need a dictionary"
Daniel Turner- "Great scrabble player- better poet" (lol)
Darlene De Beaulieu- "Hello Mr. Messina" - (needs to fix avatar-lol)
Deb M- "Debx"
Emile Pinet- "Gifting his books"
Eve Roper- Nursey Rhymes"
Gershon Wolf- "The great philosopher"
Gregory Barden- "The Bard"
Hilo Poet- "Aloha"
I Am Anaya- "Cool"
Ink Empress- "Ink Princess"
Jan Allison- "Best for a laugh"
JCB Brul- "Never won her contests (lol)
John Hamilton- "Lyrics"
John Lawless- "WTFWT"
John Watt- "Word master"
Joseph May- "Love his contests"
Julia Ward- Never won her contests either (lol)
Kim Rodriguez- "Nature"
Lady Labyrinth- "Deep"
Line Gauthier- "Short and sweet"
Maria Williams- "My dear Aussie"
Michael Tor- "My brother from another mother"
Mike Gentile- "Caring"
Milton Hankins- "Missing him"
Mystic Rose Rose- "Flowers, flowers"
Panagiota Romios- "Pangie, the S.F. kid"
Paula Goldsmith- "A lovely read/write"
Quoth The Raven- "The Birds"
Regina McIntosh- "Love, Gina"
Richard Lamoureux- "His lovely wife"
Robert Hinshaw- "The poem I wrote for his wife"
Robert James Liguori- "Marvel"
Sam Kaufman- The finest bus driver poet I ever knew"
Sandra Haight- "My Jersey gal"
Sara Baker- "Bill's lovely wife"
Sara Kendrick- "Thanks for sharing"
Silent One- "Silence" (Rumi)
Sotto Poet- "Admirable"
Susan Ashley- "Warmest wishes"
Suzette Delaney- "The poem I wrote about her avatar eye"
Suzette Richards- "Can't do her contests, too hard (lol)
Tania Kitchin- "Haiku's"
Tom Cunningham- "Great story teller"
Tom Watt- "Another word master"
Tom Woody- "Reminds me of Milton- for some reason"
Unseeking Seeker- "The Seeker"
Valsa George- "Blessings"
Victor Buhagiar- "Missing his wife"
Vijay Pandit- "Imagery and Imagination"
Winged Warrior- "The great alliteration'er"- (R.I.P. John)
Adrift in some Mad American Empire
I stand in my shadow as the future winds come
Looking over the ruins of my nation!
Eyes grow dim as the masses succumb
Families cry as loved ones are stolen!
What have we become
A piece of crumpled banner flutters in the sky
Blue field, a bold white name
Are those bloody hands I see crimson? Insane!
Orange-faced jack-o-lantern, grinning
Nothing behind those beady black eyes
I stand & watch the fading embers of a nation!
Die in the future winds that come
My mind grows numb to the media screaming
Insanity into the void of morality!
Loves one die, a price for life too high
What, what we have done, brother against brother
A silent, cold civil war of words & woe
Tattered printed fliers of a "bad orange man."
Dance through a vacant street
A madman and the shadow of a fool
...dons a red, white, & blue crown!
Adrift in some mad American empire
Long live tyranny, Amerikannia rules again, my friend!
No! I beg to differ!
As I stand in the coming rain
I will not bow or bend a knee to an American king
Or a billionaire jester, a clown in a tin can trash truck
I will not let my sisters bleed on barren grounds
I will not let my brothers, black or brown, be stollen
To be forgotten, never to be found
Live, love, and laugh as love is love
Love who you want; you will not be trampled upon!
I will not go correction; We will not
Go gentle into that goodnight
We will rage, rage against
Treason and tyranny!
The orange crown will be cast down
So remember remember the 5 of November
When the nation ran red with MAGA’ots and dread
Remember January the 6th, when his minions raged
It was not a myth that January the sixth!
So I stand in the winds of the coming doom
As a cold, bitter rain pelts my face
Adrift in some Mad American Empire
And rage, rage against the orange king and cyber clown!
We will not be silenced
Or voices will rise...
RISE!
To topple a tin dictator
To overcome tyranny
To destroy Fascism
Like my father’s father!
We Will REMEMBER
As We are RESISTANCE!
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.…even in some mad American empire!
We first met at O’Charlies with her tears and my ears.
We had attended Sunday School together - we joined
another for a couple years. When we returned, her spouse
had died. Proverbial arms were already ‘round her sweet soul.
She braved returning to church, knowing we’d see her.
A wreck, she loved that man with everything; her source
of strength, he was. They had planned to serve together.
He had his lovely voice, his guitar - they’d read the bible
with the seniors at a small center, even to memory-impaired.
But, this assignment was given to this heartbroken soul,
stepping up as a leader, with encouragement. Eager
to do her best, she gained a following. I served with her
for awhile, after our meeting for lunch at her favorite place.
Back to O’Charlies, Sue’s tears shattered upon the table,
the floor, my shoulder. I was wet with her pure grief.
It was my first time seeing someone so wrecked from
losing their dearly departed. I had seen others, but only
as a freeze-frame. Sue allowed me in and I loved her dearly.
You’ve probably guessed, she has left her place on earth.
Exciting that she’s joined her beloved Al in heaven. Found
out about her passing only yesterday, but she died in May.
Still processing the death of this saint, who loved her grands,
her pet, her church, her friends and most certainly the Lord.
She was the one who would show up with goodies, specially
baked chocolate chip cookies. Bravely and faithfully attended
Sunday School, on Thursday evenings, when she could.
I know I heard God’s voice telling me to grab her hand,
bring her up front to praise the Lord, as the invitation
had been made. She was not in my direct eyesight, but
I could feel her heartbeat. How interesting that it was
Valentine’s Day and my husband was sick at home.
So I grabbed Sue’s hand and we walked up front to praise
together. With tears in her eyes, she asked “Kim, how
did you know?” I told her that Al was with us, we are all
part of the communion of saints. I held her heart, and I
was blessed by a friendship that transcends time and space.
Rest in peace, my sweet friend! I will see you one future day.
Tears…
6/22/2023
this is a true if near impossible contest
how can you write a poem about mourning
and honouring the ones deceased in a war
without it being somewhat political
you do not have to be a feminist
and as a man I hope to be one
to know that the personal is political
and the private is a very public sphere
making decisions in groups such as
celebrating Memorial Day for example
remembering My Lai and Buchenwald
can never be an individual solitary pursuit
a poppy on lapels and automobile bumpers
where have all the flowers gone indeed
grieving purple hearts not lost in amnesia
are statements which involve statesmanship
gone wrong
missions failed
skeletons gathered
loved ones bereaved
ethics become immoral
for sure I do condemn all wars
and not the pawned veterans
artificial borders are frontiers of madness
and soldiers wrongly pay the ultimate price
for what insanity exactly for whose gain
a flag draped over a coffin appears to me to be
a euphemism and declaration of capitulation
to greed money power and humanity’s inherent bedevilments
and in that sense I have a place for thinking of the dead
I wish to have compassion empathy consideration
not just for soldiers fallen in the course of seeming duty only
but also for civilians slayed by unfriendly fire and contempt
like others I have often claimed ‘never again’ in vain
on Memorial Day I chose to read war poets and philosophers of peace
pray reflect meditate and hope as I suck in the pain that wars are causing
and on the matter of writing an unpolitical poem on this very day
it is like fighting for peace with weapons or copulating for virginity
‘live by the sword and die by the sword’ is never double edged
instead quite clear cut and it takes immeasurable guts to refuse the call
a tribute of distinction allegiance to conscience strength and objection
and to the principle that pacifism involves never forgetting what matters most
notes to the reader:
I spent 15 years in the Armed Forces and was discharged with honour and alive
I have a subtle feeling that I might not place in this contest
Been raining all week. This morning started off with a bit of sun and it got me reminiscing. About my youth. About you. Next month marks one year since your passing. We spent the last seven months of your life visiting, chatting after a thirty plus year estrangement. As time passes rough edges begin to soften. Hard feelings fade like a summer storm that has run its course. Rainbows begin to emerge, memories of a happy childhood spent with you.
Sports- a vehicle for the bond we shared. I was all about basketball and your support always mattered. You had quite a hook shot back then, hard to block. I was the one with the quick break to the basket from either side of the hoop and the dead-on jump shot from inside the key. But baseball was always your first love. Put you at short stop and no grounder was likely to pass beyond your infield. I was the power hitter, like my fave Frank Robinson. You were more of a singles guy, waiting on base for the hit that would send you home. I recall some of your heroes; Carl (the Yaz) Yastrzemski, Johnny Bench, Pete Rose and of course, the indomitable home run king Henry (Hank) Aaron. Ahh, the baseball games we watched together. The Cleveland Indians at Lakefront stadium. They always stunk back then, but we didn't care (much). And you yelling at Richie Scheinblum to just hit the stinking ball was a party in itself. I never liked hot dogs but when in Rome... Oh, and I used to enjoy poring over your Who's Who in Baseball books and was always in awe of your memory of the stats for many of the players. I wonder if they still make those?
Playing football in the snow, basketball in the rain, baseball under full sun, the weather never mattered. We loved sports and through the playing, the sharing, the competition (boy, did we battle it out on the ping pong table, often for hours at a time), the fun, we forged a bond that was partially severed for a time, but never fully broken. Those are the memories I will choose to focus us as the date of your passing nears. Rest in peace, old man.
game on the telly
ol' Hank hit another one
dad gives me a wink
In the quiet twilight, we gather here today,
To honor my dad, remember him, and pray.
From the promised land, he flew with no regret,
To the fifties U.S., a different mindset.
In the old world, he wore many hats, even a soldier,
Now a young man on a Greyhound bus, bound for Boulder.
"Mariah," the bus played as they rolled along,
He remembered Mount Moriah and mistook it in the song.
He told us the U.S. had been great, yet he was sad,
Perhaps because we didn't know what we once had.
He worked his way through the U of C,
Studying the holistic subject of geography.
Dad became a professor; I watched the applause,
At conferences, everyone knew who he was.
A geographer who explored every field,
Endless books in his study, a vast horizon revealed.
Our summers in New England and the West,
The mile-square farm on Black Hill Road was the best.
Swimming holes, blackberry bushes, mountain hikes,
Exploring dirt roads on three-speed bikes.
But time went by, good came, but so did pain
People seemed so plastic, no anchor kept them sane
The sixties began the process, self-image changed,
A once-great country now became deranged.
Geography was deemed passé, no longer in fashion,
Radical winds swept through college halls, a destructive passion.
A compass spinning wild, the intellectuals sinned,
He wondered if Mariah still named the wind.
In older lands one friend had fought Nazis and Communists too
You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but it was true.
Dad joined with him and others to stem an intolerant tide,
A battle of course doomed, but at least they tried.
While we're still standing here, memories endure,
A young man's arrival, his heart remaining pure.
He's gone now, but he didn't cave, he made his stand,
In the old and then in a new Promised Land.
Zionists have been hunted in High School halls,
Jews huddle in fright as mobs bang on the walls.
What would he have felt, to see democracy’s shame?
Though I know he lost I’m proud he ran the race all the same.
Mamma, what a lovely angel you are
Before I came into this world you carried
Me for nine gruelling months,
Morning sickness and throw-ups
Is what I gave when you conceived me
And innumerable kicks from within
Unmindful of your pain
You prayed for my well-being
When you gave birth to me
You weren’t spared excruciating pain
You took that in your stride to give me life
Those were the happiest moments in life for you
Moments you had already experienced twice
But that did not diminish your thrill of
Becoming a mother all over again
You wanted a girl, I came along,
And you took that stoically
After two boys, you were justified
In wanting a girl
But that did not diminish
your love for me
I was left bereft of a sister and
blamed you
Inwardly, foolishly,
for not giving one to me
In my infancy, I made life
difficult and tiring for you
You took that as a challenge
and gave me the best childhood
a child could ever get
Yet, which child is satisfied,
I asked for the moon
In my growing days, you were
my source of boundless energy
Yet in my failures,
I always took refuge
in blaming you for my lethargy
You took my selfish behaviour
with a wry smile
And put it away assuming it was
an adolescent’s innocent guile
It was not as if you pampered me
and didn’t spare the rod
Whenever you felt matters were
getting out of hand
You took control and spanked me
to show who’s boss
And when I sulked, you smiled
and offered me candyfloss
As a young adult, I began
to understand your sacrifices
How dame luck connives
and throws life’s unfair dice
You helped me conquer
my every weakness with flair
And taught me the value of
dealing with people fair
You were always there when
I needed you the most
Now, that you are not there
I feel inadequate and lost
I am learning to live and cope
like a hapless child again
Hoping time heals and I shall
my confidence regain
Mamma, I salute you
For the way you restrained
And sustained me.
May your soul rest in peace.