Requiem: 'The Last Poem
I wrote this poem on All Saints/All Souls Day 1981 and it is dedicated to my brother, Patrick who passed away in1975, and to the memory of many friends and family.
Embarked the journey on your own
The choice in crossroads taken
The tapestry you once wove
The threads are now forsaken
The words you left to me
Heard only by the Saints
The voice from the wilderness calls
No picture you can paint
Although your dreams not realised
Your memory will never fade
And Heaven keeps your secrets
The words you tried to say
From the ashes the Phoenix rose
Your soul which blessed this way
Time's pirates may steal the gold
But memories grace this day
And wide the Portals open
One's life and death the key
The star will reach its zenith
Then quiet the ending will be
The golden path now taken
A key to heroes unsung
To His breath and in loving arms
All your deeds are done
No epic or poet can describe
The peace spent in the final hour
Embrace me stars eternally
A hymn sent to Heaven's flower
While the curtain draws across your eyes
The stars sing their elegy
This last poem I write for you
Are to the words you wrote to me
Weep no more, His love imparts
Peace as the Prophecy
As is written in the scrolls
Reveal the Trinity
Enshrouded as the Vision stares
Look back; Forever sleep
Your star vibrates in unison
Now rest in Heaven's keep
**********
Amen
As you were given to us and now have part, you will always be in our memories and always in our hearts.
poem by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
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Related quotes
Rest in Death
My soul rest from bounty days and years.
With generosity, you gave me long life...thank you!
Now, family and friends surround me with love
Read this poem I wrote for you, don't
wake me let me sleep.
Spirit needs to rest in peace.
Ring the bells and beat the drums.
Fill mouths with songs and eyes with hope.
Turn your heads toward the past.
Recite and paint it magical meanings,
Let songs and poems be my epitaph,
And a soft bed upon my soul rest
Weep not for me family and friends,
Raise your chin up like a rose
raising it petals to dawn.
Speak not of flowery deeds, instead
plant each step In life's garden.
Circle my tomb, sing my last song;
recite my last poem, touch my face,
my smiling lips and silent eyes.
Now my friends, my children, your children
and their children, go back...
Gather memories, place them in
Picture frames, dresser drawers,
and backpacks.
All these death can't take.
You, others, still others…now leave!
Go back to your dwellings
As I rest with death.
May 8,2010
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Poet Of The Heaven
POET OF THE HEAVEN
Melvin Banggollay
What a wonderful poem you have written
With words that sprung from the heaven,
You truly have deep faith to the only Begotten.
For this, you shall be healed and forgiven
and be enlightened to sing in heaven.
You are, for me a poet of the heaven
Gifted with words of faith that enlighten
Troubled souls like me once forsaken
by cheating hearts of beautiful women
But with thy pen, I can find a new maiden.
Dedicated to Mary Wismer
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Hymn To Love
If the sky should fall into the sea
And the stars fade all around me
All the times that we have known here
I will sing a hymn to love
We have lived and dreamed we two alone
In a world that's been our very own
With it's memories ever grateful
Just for you I sing a hymn to love
I remember each embrace
The smile that lights your face
And my heart begins to sing
Your eyes have never lied
And my heart begins to sing
And my heart begins to sing
If one day you should ever disappear
Always remember these words
If one day we had to say goodbye
And our love should fade away and die
In my heart you will remain here
And I'II sing a hymn to love
O for love, we live eternally
In the blue we'll roll this harmony
With every day we are in heaven
As for you, I'll sing a hymn to love
Don't you ever worry, dear
And the stars shall fade from the sky
All the times that we have known here
I will sing a hymn to our love
Oh darling,
Just for you I sing
A hymn to love
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Ode Poem To You
My mother gave me an ode poem, oh how I love that poem
The scene of her perfume on it, the picture of me in her arms
This letter I keep with me all the time, I love it so much I sleep with it under my pillow
To her nice hand writing, to the black ink she wrote in, she wrote until her ink went low
My poem is great, my poem is wonderful, to the white paper she wrote on it’s beautiful
To the green words of the title, my poem she gave me is the best
I love how she gave the lip stick print on the top of my poem, sad to say she's at rest
I will always love the poem she gave to me before she passed
To the words in the poem she gave me will always endure
Word by word my lovely poem is speaking to me gratefully
This ode poem was from my mom and for only me sincerely
I love my poem, oh how wonderful it can be
Its so wonderful do you want to read,
Take a look, take a look and you will see
poem by Twilight Simmons
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To J. S.
The wind, that beats the mountain, blows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.
And me this knowledge bolder made,
Or else I had not dare to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe.
'Tis strange that those we lean on most,
Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed,
Fall into shadow, soonest lost:
Those we love first are taken first.
God gives us love. Something to love
He lends us; but, when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.
This is the curse of time. Alas!
In grief I am not all unlearn'd;
Once thro' mine own doors Death did pass;
One went, who never hath return'd.
He will not smile--not speak to me
Once more. Two years his chair is seen
Empty before us. That was he
Without whose life I had not been.
Your loss is rarer; for this star
Rose with you thro' a little arc
Of heaven, nor having wander'd far
Shot on the sudden into dark.
I knew your brother: his mute dust
I honour and his living worth:
A man more pure and bold and just
Was never born into the earth.
I have not look'd upon you nigh,
Since that dear soul hath fall'n asleep.
Great nature is more wise than I:
I will not tell you not to weep.
And tho' mine own eyes fill with dew,
Drawn from the spirit thro' the brain,
I will not even preach to you,
"Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain."
Let Grief be her own mistress still.
She loveth her own anguish deep
More than much pleasure. Let her will
Be done--to weep or not to weep.
I will not say "God's ordinance
Of death is blown in every wind;"
For that is not a common chance
That takes away a noble mind.
His memory long will live alone
In all our hearts, as mournful light
That broods above the fallen sun,
And dwells in heaven half the night.
Vain solace! Memory standing near
Cast down her eyes, and in her throat
Her voice seem'd distant, and a tear
Dropt on the letters as I wrote.
I wrote I know not what. In truth,
How should I soothe you anyway,
Who miss the brother of your youth?
Yet something I did wish to say:
For he too was a friend to me:
Both are my friends, and my true breast
Bleedeth for both: yet it may be
That only silence suiteth best.
Words weaker than your grief would make
Grief more. 'Twere better I should cease;
Although myself could almost take
The place of him that sleeps in peace.
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace;
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.
Nothing comes to thee new or strange,
Sleep full of rest from head to feet:
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Let This One Poem Be About Me
Let this one poem be just about me
Let this one poem engulf all my beauty
Let this one poem define my soul
Let this one poem consume me whole
My soul was earth bound
And my heart lay in a place that it would never be found
Let this poem be what entangles my mind
Let this poem be where people will find
They will find that missing link
And this poem it will make them think
They will wonder how this girl came
They will wonder how I avoided fame
I didn’t write these words to please
I wrote these words to tease
My heart it’s the type that beckons for ease
And my taste will not accept the flavor of peas
Let this poem describe me in most simplest of ways
Let this poem show how I get through these days
And I know people will read this and say…
This girl she knew where heart lay…
Let this poem eat me whole
Let me entire heart bleed its luscious love into a broken bowl
My soul wanted only to be free
And this poem only pushed it back into me
I never will lose any part of my soul
Because then this world will swallow my inner being whole
Let this poem be what I hate
Let this poem describe with who I would mate
Let this thoughts become my ways
Let this poem be where I stray
Let this poem show how I lie
Let this poem describe how I will die
Yes I am human I cannot avoid death
Yes I am human I chose not to use meth
These words they dance upon this page
These words they have no age
These verses have lost all meaning
Because I revealed my demeaning
Let this poem describe what I deem right
Let this poem that I will always fight
My age floats through these words
And people will never understand why I want to be heard
Let this poem be only about me
Let this poem be what sets me free
And I know some day people will look at this and say…
This girl, this girl she knew exactly where her heart lay…
poem by Victoria Martinez
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No Tears In heaven
To All My Friends Relatives Gone before me and who will go after me....
No Tears In Heaven!
A friend is someone who lends a helping hand,
With a friendship to last forever in this earthly land
They will be friends forever and may not end up together,
With precious memories that will last forever and ever.
A friend is not a maid, a servant, a distant past, certainly not!
They hold a piece of you in their hearts and its forget me not.
Brightens up your deepest darkest hour... day by day
Shares your smile, your victory, in many a glorious way,
Words to describe, i certainly find it hard and its sad
But i am grateful, friends have i, when my times are bad.
And when the curtain falls the journey bravely we will carry on
Wondering.. Will you know my name if I saw you in heaven?
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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You Should Have Finished His Unfinished Poem
the poem was panting
when he left it, it was wounded and blood
flowed from the veins
of its own words
the poem was choking
and you pity it
on its last breath
it was saying
i know you did not love me
but i still love you
you should have saved the poem
at least from the
death he himself inflicted
by finishing it because
if you don't
you know what i can do
under said circumstances
i'll have to finish it myself,
i will put
the question mark
and it will always be
open and endless
in fact, with a question
as an ending
that poem becomes
a line
ad aeternum like a star on its
journey,
never ending
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thirty Days Later…
Full thirty days have rolled off silently,
Since mother died and left this world for good;
A star upon the earth, ‘STELLA’ had lived,
And did far better things that she ev’r could!
Our home looks empty without mom and dad!
The separation is too much to bear;
Nevertheless, we feel quite happy, glad:
Our parents both are gone to be with God!
Our mom has gone to sleep and rest awhile;
And she will rise when Jesus comes again;
The Lord will take her to Heaven, His home,
Where bliss prevails eternally for souls.
May mother’s soul peacefully rest for now;
And let perpetual light shine upon her;
‘Stella’, the star is heaven-bound for sure;
Let’s pray for God’s mercy on Final Day!
Dedicated by her children, grand-children and relatives
In loving memory of a most beloved soul,
Copyright by Dr John Celes 27-05-2010
poem by John Celes
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This Is Not A Confessionam Poem
This is not a confessional poem
I confess that I have written this
Not a romantic poem
Under the watch of the archangel of Blake’s vision
A l=a=n=g=u=a=g=e= p=o=e=m=
A loaf Of poem a gallon Of words a pint Of letters
A so-so go for broke poem
So so son and so said
An acrostic poem
None near Aim to be called
Mindfully toward the Eternity of the thing
An epitaph poem
He lays David E. Patton
Never one to believe in heaven
So when he dies he did spy
A free verse poem
A sonnet poem
A know it all poem for the masses
This is not a minute poem
A didactic poem
A tongue poem
A villanelle poem
A sestina poem
An epic poem
A quinzaine poem
A rondelet poem
This is not a rondel poem
A cascade poem
A trijan refrain poem
A tanka poem
A taridet poem
A quatrain poem
If I lie this is not a list poem
To pin upon the sky
Set before the poet’s eye
I confess that I have written this
But this is not written to deceived anything but what is desired by the greediness of the eyes
This is not the growth of breath focused on the words with their mindful meaning stalled by the stack of sounds held in the syllables
This is not a sijo poem from the land of the morning calm
I confess that I know not what this is but all that it is not of what it would be forgot in the mispronounced want of the bony wants of the skin bag of my self
This is not the not of a poem trying to be born from the keyboard’s click and the memory of my hands
This is not an every man poem to understand it dose not caters to the common man
This is not a poem about Gods caught up in my mentioning of them they have taken their holy toys and gone home till the kingdom will come only the prelists priests are left to protest their secret order for getting into a heaven where nothing changes nothing like the rot of earth that feed upon the rotting of the living
This is not a this is not poem all that I have said can be washed away with the rain of your brain this poem can not save can not heal can not trill you into action
This is not a solitary crowed poem a cut-up poem feeding off itself
I have written it but it will not tell me what kind of poem it seem to be
This is not a poem to make you rough or pure or proud or increate your intellect to beguile the world with its new found wisdom
This is not a poem to set you free from the common drudgery of your day to day life it can not fend or feed you with the not of its substance can not set you to dance naked beneath the full moon can not fill you up with the pleasure of the pen
This is not a poem that seeks to befriend it has no mouth to consume you no hands to caress you no tongue to lick the words from your tears
This is not a haiku poem
A testimonial poem
A neither Ballard nor ballade
A limerick an ode nor sonnet
A terza rima
A villanelle a terzanelle or pantoum
This poem can not go on forever it finds its not end in your mind the time is spent and I believe that this is not the end of this poem
poem by David E. Patton
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The Lives Of The Saints Ii
The lives of the saints are very good
Because the saints takes care of their health and Hygiene very well
The saints always changes their clothes everyday because they transpire Very fast in heaven due to the heat that is turned on in the Winter in heaven
Yes it gets very hot in heaven that sometimes they have to open the Windows just a bit so they can get some fresh air
And heaven is home to the saints
But the saints love living in heaven because there is no noise or violence
During the day the saints leaves heaven and come down to earth to Help in a food bank and they get paid for their work
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Lives Of The Saints
The lives of the saints are very good
Because the saints takes care of their health and Hygiene very well
The saints always changes their clothes everyday because they transpire Very fast in heaven due to the heat that is turned on in the winter in Heaven
Yes it gets very hot in heaven that sometimes they have to open the Windows just a bit so they can get some fresh air
And heaven is home to the saints
But the saints love living in heaven because there is no noise or Violence
During the day the saints leaves heaven and come down to earth to Help in a food bunk and they get paid for their work
poem by Aldo Kraas
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As I Now Silently Cry
If tears could build a stairway
And memories were a lane
I'd walk right up to heaven
And bring you back again
No farewell words were spoken
No time to say goodbye
My friend you will be remembered
As I now silently cry...
You meant the world to me
and how much I loved you so
Why did this all happen and
why did you have to go?
May God rest your soul in peace
Is a prayer that comes from the heart
We will meet again some day
For good times and some laugh
Until then goodbye my friend
In slumber that you sleep
You will be forever missed
May your soul now rest in peace. Amen.
poem by Meena Mustafa
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The Most Powerful Poem Of Them All!
There's a poem stored in Heaven
Lord Jesus wrote one day,
For each child of God forgiven,
Lost lambs who went astray...
That poem borne of knowledge
And God-blessed prophecy
Would later grant Him courage
When He faced Calvary...
The words still echoed in His mind
Each time that He was whipped,
Reminding Him God loved Mankind
As even more flesh ripped...
The verses helped Him hold back tears
That lesser men would weep,
Enduring pain and mortal fears,
His sacrifice to keep...
The final verse kept faith alive
Because it was sublime,
It promised God would soon revive
The Lamb of God in time...
Lord Jesus took Man's sins on Him,
Upon the Cross of Christ...
What's the title of His poem?
Believe and be baptised!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Ode To A Robert Frost Poem
I thought I took the road less taken.
But I guess I was mistaken.
When the two paths diverged in the woods; I pondered at which path I must take.
I took the path to my left in the woods; Was it the right path to take?
It was not, but I digress.
Why must I deal will all this stress?
As I sit and try to recall all of the words from the poem Frost once wrote, I must emote.
This ode to that grand old poem that Frost once wrote.
The name of that Robert Frost poem is 'The Rode Not Taken'.
As I write this ode to a Robert Frost's poem, the words he wrote be not mistaken.
I thought I took the path less taken.
I will now end this ode to go eat some bacon.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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My Brother Steve
My brother Steve, you will be missed
Your sense of humor, your real quick wit
Goodness of heart and values true
These memories, I keep of you
I heard your message on the phone
Your voice it had a happy tone
I could have called you on that day
Now I’ll need another way
Your tragic and untimely death
Gave all of us, time to reflect
Why would god take you now?
There must be a reason, time will tell
Your family means the world to you
The days we spent seem way too few
As you watch from high above
We’ll look for signs to see your love
Our thoughts and prayers we say each day
Are meant for you to see the way
To a place where you will be
With peace, love and tranquility
My wish for you a peaceful rest
I love you Steve you will be missed
____________________________________ ____
(My brother Steve was killed in a boating accident August 27,2011. I was asked to recite a poem during his funeral but I could not find one that carried my true emotions... so I wrote my own. I wanted to post it in case these words can help someone else. Jim)
poem by Bob Keller
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A poem for you...
I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Made In Heaven
Im taking my right with destiny
Willing to play my part
Living with painful memories
Loving with all my heart
Made in heaven, made in heaven
It was all meant to be, yeah
Made in heaven, made in heaven
Thats what they say
Cant you see
Thats what everybody says to me
Cant you see
Oh I know, I know, I know, that its true
Yes its really meant to be
Deep in my heart
Im having to learn to pay the price
Theyre turning me upside down
Waiting for possibilities
Dont see too many around
Made in heaven, yes made in heaven
Its for all to see
Made in heaven, made in heaven
Thats what everybody says
Everybody says to me
It was really meant to be
Oh cant you see
Yeah, everybody, everybody says
Yes it was meant to be
Yeah, yeah
When stormy weather comes around
It was made in heaven
When sunny skies break through behind the clouds
I wish it could last forever, yeah
Wish it could last forever, forever
Im playing my role in history
Looking to find my goal
Taking in all this misery
But giving it all my soul
Made in heaven, made in heaven
It was all meant to be
Made in heaven, made in heaven
Thats what everybody says
Wait and see, it was really meant to be
So plain to see
Yeah, everybody, everybody, everybody tells me so
Yes it was plain to see, yes it was meant to be
Written in the stars...
Written in the stars...
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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