Death (Poem)


Broken are the shackles of the mortal coil,
They now journey to the cold cemetery soil,
Their bodies remain long after they’re gone,
Their released spirits mourn and move on,

Those left behind are never quite the same,
They lament the dead’s extinguished flame,
Sorrow, regret, and loss have them consumed,
Heartbreaking to see their loved ones entombed,

Death of a loved one is a hard thing to face,
Here’s to hoping the hereafter is a better place,
Life itself is merely the flicker of a flame,
And we’re the echoes in the dusty picture frame,

Anthony Bourdain – His Next Adventure (Poem)

Anthony Bourdain – His Next Adventure

Anthony Bourdain was found dead?
What?! Is that what the news just said?
That he hung himself in his French hotel room?
Likely due to depression, a seemingly inescapable gloom,
I’m just in shock to hear the bad news,
I knew he had a thing for smoking and booze,
But I wasn’t aware of his mental health,
It goes to show depression cares not about status or wealth,
That man was a piece of work but genuine and funny,
Filled with attitude and opinions but a heart of honey,
He was a talented chef and storyteller,
His shows were award-winning and books bestseller,
It’s a shame his light has been snuffed from existence,
If only he could have reached out for assistance,
May he find the peace he never found in life,
But knowing him, it’ll start with bourbon and a chef knife,

Visiting in Death (Poem)

Visiting in Death

My grandpa came to visit me,
He was the last person I expected to see,
You see, he’s been dead for a couple of years now,
Yet he stepped into my dreams somehow,
It was as if he knew he was intruding,
At least from his body language, I was concluding,
He appeared to stand apart from the dream,
Yet was somehow sewn into its seam,
He said he came to tell me I love you and hello,
That he missed me and just wanted to let me know,
I related the same and hugged him tight,
And just like he came, he faded from sight,
It means a lot that he took a moment to stop by,
Even now, thinking back on it, it’s hard not to cry.

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