In Memory Of Poems - Poems about In Memory Of

I kissed the night like an old lover, in memory of days long past, drinking from its shadows like a deep, unsettling crimson wine, loneliness wore a velvet cloak, silky and heavy like a forgotten dream, and I, a smile stitched with threads of melancholy, let myself be lost in the evening's decline. The moon, a silent witness, watched...

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We lose our loved ones since life is wayward. For everyone, the breath of death, it stinks. Its kiss, calamitous shame. E'en flowers turn martyrs, beauty burns, and despair sinks. A proud mother barred from her cherished calf. She hates the dark hole, black toll, worthless tomb which stakes a Cross, and none will wish to laugh when elephant sorrows...

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Crossing over into the realm of non-description reference and paradigm sleep alone Borders falling inward upon themselves leaving only what the mind forgoes —and the soul forbids (The New Room: 1-15-2025) ...

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In sharing my thoughts about Nana... Where do I even begin? Her smile that lit up every room? Her sparkle? Her mischievous grin? Her rib cracking hugs have been mentioned a lot By the friends who she mutually adored. Many felt inspired by her courage, her faith And her trust in the Sovereign Lord. Her sense of humour was second to none. She loved...

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In the heart of Manhattan, where the city thrives, Lived a hawk named Pale Male, with piercing eyes. On a grand Fifth Avenue ledge, he made his nest, A symbol of nature, in the urban crest. With feathers so light, and a spirit so free, He soared above skyscrapers, for all to see. A legend in the park, where he chose...

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In Memory Of In Memory of my Nana Viola Mae Yeager (Chamberlain) 12/02/1928-04/12/2014 Written By Ashley Marie Gilchrist On April 13, 2014 Today the time has come the sun shall rise, and sure to set today Nana's time has come, She has no regrets. Her life she lived, as beautiful and wonderful as she did. Sure we all know, a better place, that....

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In Memory Of In Memory of my Nana Viola Mae Yeager (Chamberlain) 12/02/1928-04/12/2014 Written By Ashley Marie Gilchrist On April 13, 2014 Today the time has come the sun shall rise, and sure to set today Nana's time has come, She has no regrets. Her life she lived, as beautiful and wonderful as she did. Sure we all know, a better place, that....

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On those long days when it was too hot to ride or run, a boy would find an island of cool beneath a tree and sit there with his pocket knife to whittle away time and a piece of wood. A good blade could shape the hull of a model boat or thinly peel an apple or carve a name clean into the smooth bark...

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In Memory of Oreo, the Glasses Thief My guinea pig named Oreo, an affectionate little soul with a talent to behold.. With fur as soft as moonlight’s gleam, And eyes so bright, like stars in a dream. My Oreo, you brought such delight, With mischief in your heart, mischief in your sight. A master of curiosity, you wandered with grace, Exploring the...

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In loving memory of Chewy, my guinea pig friend, Whose gentle soul touched mine, until the end. A guinea pig with a heart so pure and kind, You were the one who rescued me, in my mind. Four years ago, we found each other, Your soft, black and white fur and eyes so full of light, Brought warmth and joy into...

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The gate of heaven opens wide as angels on either side guide her through, while we all mourn and cry. Praising, she sits by our Lord's side. 12/14/2023...

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Back then, backyards were big enough to nurture a growing soul and provide a space for the earth to play out its seasons in full rehearsal. There were wide tracks of grass, trees to climb, old sheds to rummage with their interiors full of tools and bric-a-brac webbed in history. There was food - ripe tomatoes and corn from a vegetable patch, grapes swelling...

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He is dead. My beloved teacher is gone. Like the burning sun, with knowledge he shone A man of letters, he would voice his thoughts Costing him dear ever and anon Gone is he who was out of place A man that laughed in the faith’s face The letter and fetor of tradition Could not fetter his rational race Poverty, problems,...

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I like to think that if I can think it there is way somehow someway the then and now interchangeable each palm holding a kingdom the weight of my heart would suffice...

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I knew Milton through his writing on Poetry Soup and his book, "Ashes on the Snow", (2010). A warm and intimate montage of his life experiences. He was a principled man, whose deep family roots from the Appalachian highlands of West Virginia carried him through-out his life; where he inspired others, through his ministry and...

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