Posthumous Poems - Poems about Posthumous

Four dead Jesuits, now confirmed as child molesters, but when alive these monsters’ crimes, were covered in obfuscation. And when they passed, were the Last Rites recited and are they buried in sanctified grounds? May their rest be as unrestful as their victims lives and and the fitful sleep of their confessors....

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*Image of Popular DJ Avicii (cutting himself & bled out) AUDIO: from the film Gladiator, "Now We Are Free" "Sometimes in life, we're just not cut out for it, hoping people see the point," by Poet Soma Sonnet: Posthumous Soliloquy As the blade search for the life of me, The pain glides the blade with certainty, Deeper the journey as my...

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Fifth June 2021 you passed on to glory Seven days to your 58th birthday Today as the world celebrates Your 59th posthumous birthday Your legacy of love lives on Your legacy of charity lives on Your legacy of forgiveness lives on One life for Christ was all you had One life for Christ was so dear to you He was your...

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The dead can still be warmly applauded Who on us in some field had lorded And his overripe honours remembered Which he himself must’ve numbered. A piece of provocation When earnestly it had been waited for, A never lessening expectation From every supposed worshipping knock on his door; Body movements of the dismayed at a delay, Disappointed reflections on the sun being overhead and...

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"50 Words for Poe: Posthumous" Moody dark man haunted mind Lovecraft sleeps awake eyes open wide while he writes Her, she possesses he, his lovely succubus Monster merrily a deep embrace into his dreams spectral posthumous bride becomes her Lovecraft sleeps awake eyes open wide wild raging fever in his blood is She a deep embrace into his dreams spectral posthumous bride...

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Posthumous Cries in the town Ruthless to say A posthumous born From southern gay Legs were stopped Gentleman wired Your say for today Hairless palate drawn Towards to meet two eyes No words for comments Because all equal, same play Dears, grow maize for breath North has inflated hand for save You sleep, as usual in sound Because leaders answer in full fledge Forget your children's future Forget yourself for all My town...

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Posthumous Limelight My boy, a young lad, died fighting the Iraq war. It could be any war, could be my son, Your son or anyone's son, what does it matter? All wars are same, all sons are same. A lot of decorum, a lot many bravery medals Came posthumously. His name was in the newspapers- Photographs everywhere- Interviews-cameras-speeches! Stop! Why can't everyone stop this...

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I think I'll die before I live from time to time, I suppose life seems more take than give a cynical opinion sometimes shows Michael, Gabriel or Azrael may come to bring me my pink slip and leave my future in disarray ticket punched for the return trip yet if I can get the jump on it go ahead and postulate anyhow a posthumous life...

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What, no applause? No one told them they were supposed to like your work. Like Dickinson and Van Gogh One day your talents will surface Posthumously, perhaps Treasures uncovered Would fate have it any other way? *Inspired by Brian’s blog and written for his 1 to 8-line poem contest...

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