What are memorial poems

Article source:  http://supalka.wordpress.com/2013/07/23/what-are-memorial-poems/

Memorial poems – often called in loving memory poems – are those often read during funerals or memorial services. These works are appropriate to commemorate the event, as well as, compliment the life of the deceased.Here are some memorial poems

The Unbroken

There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken,
a shatteredness
out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is a sorrow
beyond all grief which leads to joy
and a fragility
out of whose depths emerges strength.
There is a hollow space
too vast for words
through which we pass with each loss,
out of whose darkness
we are sanctioned into being.
There is a cry deeper than all sound
whose serrated edges cut the heart
as we break open to the place inside
which is unbreakable and whole,
while learning to sing.

This Trembling Heart

i did not wake up one day
and choose to love you
or decide
that my life would now
be focused
in your direction.
this trembling heart
like a magnetized needle
of a compass,
a splayed, obsidian lotus
in a sea of fire
simply returns again
and mysteriously again
to where your soul resides ,
to the breathing star dust
and tender flesh
which temporarily hold
the flowering river
of who you are.

Excerpts from a Eulogy

You were a dove
descending from heaven,
your white wing was one with the moon.
I was an obsidian raven,
ascending from the under-world.
My wing was one
with the unknowable mystery.
You were drawn to light and lightness,
did not enter easily into conflict,
your house was filled with flowers.
I was drawn to the not-yet-conscious,
to the primordial beauty of mud
and swam with conflict
like underwater lightning,
a portal into deeper intimacy.
You filled my heart with flowers.
I brought to yours a quality of love
you had secretly dreamed of.
We met in the golden space
beyond darkness and light,
we touched through our unwavering
honesty “the gold,”
again and inexplicably again.
Through love’s invisible alchemy,
the wing of the moon
became the wing of the night
became the song
became the sangha
became the unknown echo of “This.”
Intrigued by your feral beauty
your elegance, tenderness,
directness and laughter
I surrendered into your love~
my arsenal of excuses
with a humble bow of gratitude.
…And today,
nearly thirteen years later,
I place a small, handmade box of ashes
of your once-vibrant body
on my altar.
(So caringly placed in a zip-lock bag,
wrapped in a lavender cloth.)
I feel you leaning into me still,
Beloved friend.
I feel the wingtips of your ageless soul
like never-ending branches
of a deeply-rooted tree
gazing into my window
from eternity’s threshold.
Your absence
has blossomed into
I can still hear your laughter,
still feel you
lavishing me
with adoration
and kindness,
offering generously,
like you so often did,
your samurai editor’s
sword of truth and bluntness!
Yes, here you are~
still editing my poetry,
cutting out words here and there,
anything superfluous,
even as I write this eulogy…

here where the rivers meet

here where the rivers meet
mist gathers colder
than in a dream
earth and sky
the song and the cry
are wed and one
blurred contours
of mountain and cloud
the heart’s longing
endowed and deep
like prisms in the wind
when we scattered your ashes
the moon
a golden hawk bell
in talons of the dawn.