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Love You Much, ☺☺☺☺♥♥♥♥
Dearly Beloved
by Michael R. Burch

for Suzan Blacksmith

She was

Dearly Beloved by her children, who gather
to pay their respects; they remember her
as they clung together through frightful weather,
always learning that Love can persevere ...

She was

Dearly Beloved by family and friends
who saw her great worth, even as she grew frail;
for they saw with Love’s eyes how Love’s vision transcends,
how her heart never faltered, through cyclones and hail ...

She is

Dearly Beloved, well-loved, sadly missed ...
and, while we mourn the lost days of a life too-soon ended,
we also rejoice that her suffering is past ...
she now lives in the Light, by kind Angels befriended.

And if

others were greater in fortune and fame,
and if some had iron wills when life’s pathways grew dark ...
still, since Love’s the great goal, we now reaffirm her claim
to the highest of honors: a mother’s Heart.

Keywords/Tags: Suzan Blacksmith, elegy, eulogy, epitaph, memorial, tribute, remembrance, farewell, goodbye, last respects
What a waste
Waste of beauty, potentials and dreams
I guess she had plans for the future like you and me
What to do and what to be
like a dust blown into the air
They're now ascended into space
Ourselves we must now brace
Her demise a hidden message only for an eloquent ace
But don't stop trusting in his(God) imminient grace
For she has gotten to the end of her very race
The day will wake and she will not stir
You will call her name but she lay still
Glance At her preferred spot and she's not there
You will gaze upon her meadow saffron but she won't care
Because She has gone into the darkness
But her smile in our hearts remainst the brightest
I will miss her the slightest
So I write you dry your tears
While she's laid to rest
I urge you cryless
A tribute written to console a friend of mine who lost a beloved friend of hers
Sorry she had to pass on so soon.
The title can also be waste or cryless depends on the readers
Wrote this poem for her(my friend) to stop her from shading tears
I sit in contemplation
trying to close my eyes
so I turn off the playstation
and drop my phone with a sigh.

Earlier, I tried to eat a pear
'cause fruit is healthy and stuff
but it was too hard for me not to care
it just wasn't ripe enough.

This show I've been obsessed with
and the manga after that
have busted that subconscious myth
that fiction has a lesser impact.

How long will I spend in the depths
of the fandom and content I find
accessible at my fingertips
and flooding through my mind?

When will I sense the ending
of this era of nights spent reading
headcanons, and content expanding
on the world on which I'm feeding?

Last night the latest chapter
was out on my mobile app
and I stumbled across it after
going to reread whatever was last.

It hit me like a ton of bricks
like the weight of hardback copies
of every scene the author depicts—
sent shock throughout my body.

A character who, before this day,
was invincible and proud
not unrivaled in his sway
but always drawing a crowd.

And then the last page caught me
and I could not look away
as tendrils from the enemy
cut through its raging prey

Too quick to be avoided
the hit was meant for another
but he knew he'd been appointed
as savior to his brother.

Taking a bullet for the one he abused
the one he had hated and cursed
before their fates were irrevocably fused
without either harsh role reversed—

All perceived slights against him
any contempt he thought he had shown
was forgotten as he jumped out to save him
His body just moved on its own.
I just can't get that image out of my head...
I refuse to believe Bakugo could be dead.
Nandini yadav Jun 21
बिन कुछ कहे क्यों चले गए तुम,अभी न ऐसे जाना था

अभी तो ज़िन्दगी शुरू हुई थी,जिसे अभी और सजाना था

अपने किरदारों से तुमने,कभी हँसाया तो कभी रुला दिया

बॉलीवुड के चंद हकदारों ने तुम्हें मौत की नींद सुला दिया

भेदभाव की इस नगरी में तुमने,कितना दर्द सहा होगा

सिर्फ टैलेंट के बूते पहचान बनाना,मुश्किल बड़ा रहा होगा

बस,उस पल से और लड़ जाते तुम,जिस पल में तुम टूट गए

हताश हुए,निराश हुए और हयात से यूँ रूठ गए

ज़िंदादिल इंसान थे तुम,तुम्हे चाँद पर घर बसाना था

बिन कुछ कहे क्यों चले गए तुम,अभी न ऐसे जाना था

कुछ वक्त पहले कंगना ने खुद ये राज़ खोला था

भाई भतीजावाद के ख़िलाफ़, सिर्फ उसी ने बोला था

उसकी तीखी बातों पर न कभी किसी ने ग़ौर किया

नेपोटिस्म के सौदागरों ने फिर एक नया शिकार किया

इन तुच्छ लोगों की साजिश में,न खुद को यूँ मिटाना था

बिन कुछ कहे क्यों चले गए तुम, अभी न ऐसे जाना था

आत्महत्या नहीं ये हत्या है,तुम्हे इंसाफ मिलना चाहिए

फिर से कोई सुशांत, अब न शांत होना चाहिए

चला गया वो खामोशी से,अब तो थोड़ी शर्म करो

बॉलीवुड में नेपोटिस्म का ये काला धंधा बन्द करो।

            Did not want to go now ..

Why did you go without saying anything, you did not have to leave now
Life had just started, which still had to be decorated
You laughed at your characters and sometimes made you cry
Bollywood's few entitles put you to death
In this city of discrimination, you must have suffered so much pain
It would have been difficult to identify only on the basis of talent
Just, from that moment you would fight, the moment you broke
Desperate, disappointed and disgusted with the Hyatt
You were a lively person, you had to settle on the moon
Why did you go without saying anything, you did not have to leave now
Kangana opened this secret herself some time ago
Only he spoke against brother nepotism
Nobody noticed his sharp words
Nepotism dealers again hunt a new one
In the conspiracy of these frivolous people, not to erase themselves
Why did you go without saying anything, you did not have to leave now
It's not ******, it's suicide, you should get justice
No Sushant again, no more calm
He has gone silently, now be a little ashamed
Stop this dark business of nepotism in Bollywood.
This is a tribute to sushant singh rajput who made his mark in bollywood only on the basis of his talent. actually this is not ****** but suicide sushant get justice now nepotism hast to be completely eliminated from bollywood and lets boycott all those **** people who promote nepotism
Regina Jun 13
tribute to down's syndrome are God's flowers,
His joy, His own
Jodie-Elaine Jun 11
To my dear real Mavis, I guess I’ve heard some things, some quite terminal things. Some things that leave an impending sink (merciless, not kitchen) of doom in my gut, not at all dissimilar to losing a box of memories, chopping off a thumb, standing too close to an edge.
It could all be a fell swoop, opening the oven makes my eyes water. Things aren’t quite so picturesque, as pristine as we had hoped. I’ve heard that you’re stuck like a pea lodged in-between unneeded mattresses, can’t even be seen behind the bed sheets, except for a hand that asks to be held.
You are nightclothes. Once comfortable linen, too swathed and heavily perfumed. A cold sweat won’t leave your side. What happens when you can’t get up and be the perfect host? Too weak to pick up the marigolds.
Circulation running but not smoothly on course, soft Nana hands. Things weren’t supposed to turn out so oddly, being real went backwards and sloped dodgily, it wobbles when you breathe on it, the bed wasn’t supposed to be in the dining room, and you weren’t supposed to be in it.
It was supposed to be just dandy, pastel coloured and end in slow dancing in the living room, children happy and well and a glow of warmth coming through the window. The thought gets stuck in my throat like stale slippers, what a beautiful life it has been, slowed down now to an imperfect humming T. He asked in a gentlemanly manner for the perfect love story, haven’t you been happy here? Forgetting the contents of the wedding photos, blurred and frozen faces. A half-eaten Weetabix in the cupboard falls from the shelf, the whole thing moved into boxes, into drawers, put safely out without a word, the same story told three times.
The grandfather clock trailed off chiming, chipped porcelain. Kept all the knickknacks, the yellow and pink candle pots, the sad, crude family heirlooms.
Knitting a perfect home into a sweetly perfumed shoe box. You’d kept it all perfect, lost a child and kept all of the plates spinning, hair permed and correctly pinned.
In the silence the only sound is ticking, slow methodical and drawn-out. Dust on the empty, dented bed. You became all too real, too beautiful, too terminal. In my own night-dress things are waiting. There’s no further treatment and they sent you home to sleep, into a dining room bed, broken china and unexpected conclusions.
My real Mavis, I made you another place within a safe homage, I hope it is all marigold and bright.
The Real Mavis
Erian Rose May 30
We look to the stars
Dreaming higher
than rockets could fly
Skipping across the galaxy
To a place humankind has yet to be

We watch in awe
Constellations beaming wide
Taking flight into the atmosphere
One day, Everyone will have a chance to walk amongst the milky way

We draw out our plans
Sending them to the stars
Innovating new generations
To the farthest reach from Earth
Living stardust made to touch Mars
Tribute to the NASA/SpaceX launch today.
Opening the doors to one day have everyone be able to see Earth and beyond from space.
August May 29
i dreamed of you last night.
you smiled at me as you said

you wanted to be my knight.
you told me as i bled

there was no other light.
and i knew that ahead

there would be hate and spite,
but you and i were bred

for loyalty and might.
and i had been misled

by watching through the night
i must have been less alive than dead

to think that you might leave for fright.
as my legs were coated, blood-red,

i knew that you would hold me tight
as you gently kissed my head.

and as i sit up late to write
you will make sure nothing's unsaid.
a tribute to my best friend. you have no idea how much you mean to me.
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