Long Obituary Poems
Long Obituary Poems. Below are the most popular long Obituary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Obituary poems by poem length and keyword.
Pieced together
Blood, bone and brain
With another’s parts
Senses bring sparks
Of imagination, inspiration
Insight into the heart
Who is not Frankenstein’s
But his best friend
And confidant
Pieced together
Naked skin so tender
Silencing the thoughts
Of a heart who is caught
In remembrances of a past
That cannot be brought back
A past filled with light and love
All the good things from up above
But, this is Frankenstein’s Tea Party
And he has the say in what we pray
Will he pray for a new thought
To cover up the lost art
Of camouflage – seeking skin
Wherever he can find it
Will it be you or me?
Will we be the next benefactors
Of that freaky frame
Brought to life by the same air
I breathe – yet, breathed in through
The lungs of some victim of
Frankenstein’s Tea Party
Where did this cadaver come from?
From the deceased who bled, died and left
Parts to be discarded or recycled
By the one who’s tea is soaked in fresh blood
Don’t fall victim to Frankenstein’s Tea party
If you’re invited, RSVP with a “No” reply
Frankenstein tea party 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
July 30, 2021
Another sad day for the Corps
At the passing of a good lad
A loving husband
A fantastic dad
Airborne blood running through your veins
Leading from the front pulling those reins
Inspiring your men to do there best
A true gent and friend I do not jest
A real pleasure to have served with you
In Blandford and elmpt to name but a few
I knew you as geordie on our class 1
Now that was a course we had great fun
Pride and teamwork some values you had
Jumping out of planes you were mad
On terra firma football was your game
The Corps team won't ever be the same
Condolences go out to family far a wide
A true legend just can not hide
Up in heaven looking over us
Keeping calm saying what's the fuss
Stand easy Tony your pain is gone
Your legacy of life will go on
As this poem comes to an end
I raise a glass for a strong leader and friend
Certa Cito
With bowed heads and fervent prayer
we shed our tears with broken hearts
in memory of those no longer here,
those memories are now set far apart.
Names listed on the TV screen
the familiar ones heard from another century,
Benedict and Barbara Walters,
other famous names upon the altar,
Unfamiliar names are forgotten yet last
pushed back into our past
the heroes, saints, and sinners once cast;
these then there are the names often unheard,
familiar but unknown to the public lives interred
by family, friends, and the dearly beloved
who revealed the truths in life discovered
by the children and pictures that remain
and we take stock of all we've lost and all we've gained,
holding on tight to their legacies and their names.
Long ago
I died
I wished only
To suckle from your breast
I dreamed only to hold you
As you would embrace me to rest
I dreamed that love
Would set us both free
You denied me the fairy tale
You robbed your own broken heart
Now, we are both the poorer
The mourning makes us both the sorer
The canary sings when the new morning rings
The sun rises, and a young lovers smile rises
You are there
I am here
The road of one, still has room
Wonder when the cloud will lift the gloom
I have died long ago
No need to breathe on dead old leaves
If only the scar on the heart
Would open up
Only then could the rainbows sing
Letting the sunshine in
The blood would tumble and flood the floor
Flowing right out that heartless door
There I would be in soldier grey
Ready for the battle to make love stay
Into my arms, you would faint
I would stare and unspoken I would paint
The first small kiss you would awake
Open the book, so that verses we could make
Trump, from afar, is a lunatic, a maniac,
A complete unemotional psychopath.
He talks like an imbecile- a crazy, a loony
A very real alarmist sociopath.
Wanting the people’s adulation, for his ego, his strength,
He talks, his first option war.
For any made up problem, he talks of having no destitute;
He’ll fill his armies with the poor.
Because he knows the people don’t care, they have no warmth,
It's He they will underestimate.
His lack of respect, his lack of empathy, of sense,
He just won’t tolerate.
Other cultures and other societies,
He’ll use Power to your nation’s detriment.
Making the U.S., your country once so proud,
Become so irrelevant.
I should be ecstatic, I should have tears of joy shining in my eyes,
But as I watch the ultrasound I feel a gut wrenching pain inside.
I am unable to attach myself to this reality,
I backtrack in time back to our twins.. back to that tragedy.
I find myself gasping within this room with walls that are much to close,
I desperately want this baby but I cannot spark that hope.
I remember vividly being held within your arms shaking,
When they told me our twins hearts had stopped and not faded.
I remember stark pain that tore through me and left my lungs feeling raw.
From the screams that raked through me and how much blood I saw.
I cant touch my stomach without cringing out of fear.
How could i put so much love into a baby who might not join us here...
How can I explain to you that when I held my breath...
I was imaging not giving birth but a stillborn on my chest.
I can't force these lungs to expand under the pressure of my ribs..
To see that look within your eyes there's nothing I wouldn't give.
My love I'm terrified...
I dont know what words to say to make you see
I feel less like my self and there's an emptiness in me.
They call this normal.
It's to be expected.
My body is a barren place where my Hope had been rejected.
I am struggling with the fact I now carry another beating heart...
I don't think I could handle it.. if this baby were to part.
Form:
Our childhood home in old Monroe
Is now home to someone I do not know
I knocked once but was left standing
Alone and waiting on the patio
Like when we waited for Dad many years ago
My family sold it when they up and moved away
Under some spell or hopeful for a change
Sometimes people need to go their own way
I saw your childhood home
After a handsome young man had died
Now looks dilapidated
And I don't dare go inside
I stopped next to the gravel driveway
Only to look
But I couldn't take a step or get too close
For I was frozen with fear
That perhaps Id see your injured ghost
Childhood is childhood and cannot last long
Sometimes Love flows in and away too quickly
For us to grab it or hold on
A house is a shell it's people that make it a home
And when they are gone it feels strange and lonesome
I cannot go back home ever again
For those places no longer exist
Except In my head
Mohamed and Khaled
The best butcher shop in town
In the deception of silence
they butcher those with sound
Voices against their Kingdom
they fear and do not like
Raping their women with modern views
while butchering a protesting man
Both Prince, King and pork herder
Vehement denials throughout the land
Yes the color of red, proof of blood in their sand
In the shoes of Aysha, these cowards cant even stand
Intoxicated Salman, butchered an innocent man
as Trump applauds, the free press in a grave
situation... Tyrants kissing and holding hands
A thousand lashes, to the butchers of Riyadh
Prince Mohamed be damned
Words For Those With No Voice
For every pair of shoes
All the burnt bones and woes
In the millions, in the mud
All died alone
Starving of food and having lost our souls
Our god abandoned us so
Mother father
Sister brother
Fuel for the Reich, we lay slaughtered
Some of us were saved
By those whose honor made them brave
We must salute them all, the bold and the dead
Even if we have only skeletons to mark their stead
Now that time has passed
There will be contests, it will be a blast
Who wins first? Who wins third?
The holocaust deserves no prize
Why must we die twice, this is absurd?
Honor me with a prayer
A poem
A moment of silence
A heart felt thought about humanity
Prose and verse, to remember the atrocities
This is the honor of men of a higher velocity
Never make a circus of the horrific gas chambers
A contest of who makes the horrors more real or titillating
Its not you the writer or the reader that feels
It’s us gassed and burned and buried with our id numbers
Asleep in the fields in slumber
Yellow stars fading away in silence, in tears
No grave markers to shout out of atrocious fears
The subtly of honor is lost on the crass
Maybe it’s them who should be buried under this grass
Notes:
I realize this is a delicate issue, I wrote this poem only because is of my opinion, that having a contest on such issues unless for specific venues, causes, etc. is somewhat tasteless. There is no right or wrong, this is simply by view or take on things and thus have expressed so via this poem. A contest implies a prize or reward even be it praise, and so to profit from so many peoples suffering, well I have explained why. However that being said, any expression or illustration dedicated to honoring and bringing to the light such atrocities, is a different issue.
That being said good intentions are just that, no matter how misguided they may be. We should be grateful we live where we are free to express our sentiments, feelings and beliefs, without fear of repercussion, and that by its very nature will mean many have diverse opinions and views on any issue.
She walked in sunlight upon the air.
new buds became blossoms in her path.
Her kindness she scattered everywhere,
on her constant pain, she spent her wrath.
My dear friend, Suzanne, last Sunday left
to join other angels, share her glee.
Ambassador, perhaps, to the cleft
that divides skies from mountains and sea.
Sisters, we thought, in a distant life.
Our lives today were mirrors of each.
Yet her's included terrible strife
of pain, it seemed that nothing could breach.
Goodbye, my dear friend, no longer cost,
you can fly, you are forever free!
Earth doesn't yet know what it has lost:
one in a million you proved to be!
March 25, 2023
for "Word Challenge--O Words" contest
by Constance La France
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