Dedications poems

[ewopper]

After hearing of Richard Pryor's untimely death, I wrote this. Hopefully this will spark a thread where we can post poems in dedication to those we know and love. They can be for friends, family, memorial poems or just poems to say you care.


First we laughed, Now we Cry

When first seeing you on the Ed Sullivan show
we watched your career blossom and grow
your meteoric rise indelibly
blazed new trails in the field of comedy

as you graciously gave us a liberal peek
into your world so familiar, yet unique
the many movies and records that you made
in my mind received the very highest grade

when I think of Miss Rudolph and Mudbone
my admiration for you goes on and on
and all the other characters you created
as you did them kept us fascinated

you were a poet who combined comedy
with your prose and poetry
and stripped away the myths, making us laugh
yet enlightening us in the aftermath

Richard Pryor we salute you for your contributions
to your fans you were an institution
and we thank you for all the joy you did give
while on this mortal plane you did live

Farewell O' King of Comedy
you've opened on the grand stage of eternity
and it would be no surprise to me
that you have them rolling in the aisles uncontrollably

you made your mark here on this earth
and left us memories of great worth
it saddens us all that you had to die
first we laughed, now we cry

Farewell Richard

 

[Guest]

After hearing of Richard Pryor's untimely death, I wrote this. Hopefully this will spark a thread where we can post poems in dedication to those we know and love. They can be for friends, family, memorial poems or just poems to say you care.


First we laughed, Now we Cry

When first seeing you on the Ed Sullivan show
we watched your career blossom and grow
your meteoric rise indelibly
blazed new trails in the field of comedy

as you graciously gave us a liberal peek
into your world so familiar, yet unique
the many movies and records that you made
in my mind received the very highest grade

when I think of Miss Rudolph and Mudbone
my admiration for you goes on and on
and all the other characters you created
as you did them kept us fascinated

you were a poet who combined comedy
with your prose and poetry
and stripped away the myths, making us laugh
yet enlightening us in the aftermath

Richard Pryor we salute you for your contributions
to your fans you were an institution
and we thank you for all the joy you did give
while on this mortal plane you did live

Farewell O' King of Comedy
you've opened on the grand stage of eternity
and it would be no surprise to me
that you have them rolling in the aisles uncontrollably

you made your mark here on this earth
and left us memories of great worth
it saddens us all that you had to die
first we laughed, now we cry

Farewell Richard

This is beautiful, ewopper! I didn't know he had died until you posted and just went to CNN.com and read about his illness. So sad! He was loved by many.

 

[Guest]

In memory of Violet, my grandmother. I read this poem at her viewing, and I never spoke at one before. With knees trembling, tears streaming down my face, I made it through. Luckily, most of it was memorized, but I kept my paper handy just in case I'd crack.

The Twenty Ninth Of October

I will keep the beautiful memories alive
instead of dwelling on these past few months,
as I watched God slowly take away the person
that was once known as my grandmother.

For you:

Your smile was one to light up every room
with bright eyes that almost twinkled
and mushy wet, loving kisses
when we said goodbye
after visiting you.

How could I forget how you loved
bright red nail polish, but had forgotten.
When you last saw me wearing the same,
you called me a very insulting name.
I laughed silently to myself, although,
that harsh word you used
almost left my head hanging in shame.

That delicious meal you cooked
when I was a little girl, although,
you cooked many, now brings
a joyful smile to my face, knowing
you were the one that taught me
how mixing corn and mash potatoes
would have such a delightful taste.

Your home being spotless every time we arrived,
you always smiled and loved the surprise.
Welcoming everyone in to sit, chat
or gossip, handing us a "Tab" soda
or the elders, a Schmidt’s beer;
I lost count of all the times
you had called me "Dear".

A proud grandmother you were
with all the pictures that were hung,
even when my children were born,
you made room for them on the fridge,
keeping the old pictures up
from when I was young.

An amazing woman we all knew to be strong,
a submissive wife for over sixty years long,
a loving mother in what I had seen
being the grandmother to remember,
who taught me solitaire but never poker,
may you rest in Jesus arms
and keep warm
this day,
the twenty ninth of October.



God Bless you, Mom-mom

 

[ewopper]

This is beautiful, ewopper! I didn't know he had died until you posted and just went to CNN.com and read about his illness. So sad! He was loved by many.

Yes it was sad I just wish there was some way I could get this to his wife so she could read it

 

[ewopper]

In memory of Violet, my grandmother. I read this poem at her viewing, and I never spoke at one before. With knees trembling, tears streaming down my face, I made it through. Luckily, most of it was memorized, but I kept my paper handy just in case I'd crack.

The Twenty Ninth Of October

I will keep the beautiful memories alive
instead of dwelling on these past few months,
as I watched God slowly take away the person
that was once known as my grandmother.

For you:

Your smile was one to light up every room
with bright eyes that almost twinkled
and mushy wet, loving kisses
when we said goodbye
after visiting you.

How could I forget how you loved
bright red nail polish, but had forgotten.
When you last saw me wearing the same,
you called me a very insulting name.
I laughed silently to myself, although,
that harsh word you used
almost left my head hanging in shame.

That delicious meal you cooked
when I was a little girl, although,
you cooked many, now brings
a joyful smile to my face, knowing
you were the one that taught me
how mixing corn and mash potatoes
would have such a delightful taste.

Your home being spotless every time we arrived,
you always smiled and loved the surprise.
Welcoming everyone in to sit, chat
or gossip, handing us a "Tab" soda
or the elders, a Schmidt’s beer;
I lost count of all the times
you had called me "Dear".

A proud grandmother you were
with all the pictures that were hung,
even when my children were born,
you made room for them on the fridge,
keeping the old pictures up
from when I was young.

An amazing woman we all knew to be strong,
a submissive wife for over sixty years long,
a loving mother in what I had seen
being the grandmother to remember,
who taught me solitaire but never poker,
may you rest in Jesus arms
and keep warm
this day,
the twenty ninth of October.



God Bless you, Mom-mom

This was beautiful, and took me back to loving memories of my grandmother who is in heaven smiling down on me too keep writing

 

[Reltne]

I wrote this one in October:

(Slide Over) A Memoriam for a Rose ​

 

[KR]

I wrote this the evening I learned my mother died.


Recumbent before the window
I watch the dying of the sun
between trailing birch branches
weeping as I cannot.
Your favorite time of day
will not find you sitting,
eyes staring out to sea.
You are ashes now, and I,
I will cast you into Pele's womb,
birth canal of humanity.
From ashes you came,
to ash & flame, unmade,
are you returned.
To rest.
To rest.
Perhaps find peace.
Before the cycle begins anew,
and your wail of rebirth
chases the sun
as it flees the sky.

 

[ewopper]

I wrote this the evening I learned my mother died.


Recumbent before the window
I watch the dying of the sun
between trailing birch branches
weeping as I cannot.
Your favorite time of day
will not find you sitting,
eyes staring out to sea.
You are ashes now, and I,
I will cast you into Pele's womb,
birth canal of humanity.
From ashes you came,
to ash & flame, unmade,
are you returned.
To rest.
To rest.
Perhaps find peace.
Before the cycle begins anew,
and your wail of rebirth
chases the sun
as it flees the sky.

touching

 

[jthserra]

one more reunion

One of the two poems I read at my grandmother's funeral


One More Reunion

It is inevitable
a collapse
the body's final betrayal
when one breath
one breath
one breath
is not
followed by another.

And suddenly
all I think of
is water
trickling softly from the faucet
its sound blanketed
in your words

"Three teaspoons make a tablespoon."

My heart was made whole
side by side with you
in the fluid grace
of your love
all those years ago.

Waiting, wondering
knowing each time before
you didn't go
somehow you came back
and yet I know
one day...

I remember Christmas
at Marshall's Creek
in the big house
the rooms filled with faces
and the tree
that reached up forever.

And your stories
that I heard
again and again
and still it was
never enough.

"Have you heard the story of the dirty shirt?"

That one was on me.
I grew some
and then understood
the joke, then I grew some more
and rolled my eyes
each time I heard it
again and again.

"Have you heard the story of the Rice Crispies?"

I know, I know
it’s a serial
I'll come back tomorrow.
And now I wait
wondering if you'll
come back
tomorrow.

"Have you heard the story of the roof?"

Over my head
yes, even now I have to smile
as I hear myself
repeating the stories
again and again.

How I long
for one more Christmas
one more reunion
one more story
with you.

"Three teaspoons make a tablespoon."

It is inevitable
a collapse
the body's final betrayal
when one breath...

 

[ewopper]

One of the two poems I read at my grandmother's funeral


One More Reunion

It is inevitable
a collapse
the body's final betrayal
when one breath
one breath
one breath
is not
followed by another.

And suddenly
all I think of
is water
trickling softly from the faucet
its sound blanketed
in your words

"Three teaspoons make a tablespoon."

My heart was made whole
side by side with you
in the fluid grace
of your love
all those years ago.

Waiting, wondering
knowing each time before
you didn't go
somehow you came back
and yet I know
one day...

I remember Christmas
at Marshall's Creek
in the big house
the rooms filled with faces
and the tree
that reached up forever.

And your stories
that I heard
again and again
and still it was
never enough.

"Have you heard the story of the dirty shirt?"

That one was on me.
I grew some
and then understood
the joke, then I grew some more
and rolled my eyes
each time I heard it
again and again.

"Have you heard the story of the Rice Crispies?"

I know, I know
it’s a serial
I'll come back tomorrow.
And now I wait
wondering if you'll
come back
tomorrow.

"Have you heard the story of the roof?"

Over my head
yes, even now I have to smile
as I hear myself
repeating the stories
again and again.

How I long
for one more Christmas
one more reunion
one more story
with you.

"Three teaspoons make a tablespoon."

It is inevitable
a collapse
the body's final betrayal
when one breath...

This was sad yet beautiful...great pen