Haibun death poems and poems about death for Haibun. Read and share these heartfelt Haibun death poems with loved ones, friends and family members. Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for non-death related poems or Haibun Poems.
cheer up, children, death, father,
My father was a musician, with a beautiful tenor voice. As we seven siblings witnessed his coffin being lowered into that cold earth, a blackbird sang his heart out on the church steeple.
his pure spirit rose
on the softest summer breeze
blackbird into thee
We all then sang When The Saints Go Marching In, a favourite of his, as our last farewell. Doing so filled us with the same joy so obvious in the birdsong above us.
notes so crystal clear
were carried sweetly over
the freshly dug grave
angel, death, life, nature,
The beauty of death, engage...through darkened tunnels to the everlasting dream, where simple words define a life and visions fulfill the endless night,
where water's reflect and tear drops remain, falls peaceful memories of your loving face, where angels danced and poets dreamed...and joyous psalm's cried out, through soft twilight rain...
purple hues linger
looking back across the vale
a single starshine
death, dream, environment,
At night, a huge creature floats to the surface of the tart ocean to dream into the moonlight, which barely penetrates the sulfur clouds. She sighs, her skin made of stainless steel is luminescent in the dark, her nuclear heart continues to work, but she is empty: the last restless souls have long gone from her body. She floats out of habit: inanimate things can’t dream. What did she dream before?
blue sky verdant strip
of land on the horizon…
she doesn't recall
All About The Environment. Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
dark, death, life, light,
Oh, how cold you are, heavenly lights! But there are the earthly lights that promise weary travelers a rest. Interrupting for a moment the eternal movement from dark to light, we stretch out cold fingers to a fire and look up. The Universe gets cold, galaxies flee, supernovae explode and turn into interstellar ghosts, stars fall and their long-long tails as the portents of our coming wanderings, measure the distances of empty spaces. Oh, how hot a sip of coffee is! How sweet is a random kiss in the dark!
get some rest and go
to where cold heavenly lights
Shooting Stars Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
Peter Lewis Holmes
Gift from God they called him, tall, lean and proud, the big iron
hanging on his belt, had opened many a shroud. He rode an Apaloosa,
a stallion maned and tailed, and had followed a gang of four outlaws for a month,
from Abilene, all the way down to Laredo. One evening as the sun hit sand and
rabbits stowed away, Jed Seddon, scouting for the gang, saw Mateo on his bay.
He shot him once and hit his hand but Mateo jumped down quickly from
his mount and circled around Jed below.
to his back he pumped
three to go
For Haibun contest 30/7/15
age, appreciation, death, hope,
Sometimes you like people better as you grow older. . .
Growing up, I considered my aunt, Sally, a gossip and a person consumed with envy. She liked to make fun of people, as she did with me over my crying and screaming after taking my beloved hobby-horse for my cousin, Mary.
Years later she befriended my mother after the death of my father.. They became inseparable. . .
still circling my aunt's farm pond
alighting on mother's hand
Published September, 2015 Cattails
age, bereavement, father,
Mother insisted upon bringing Dad's maroon blazer to Oregon when she came to visit after his death. She just could not bear to let it hang unused in his closet. She wanted me to "get the use out of it."
I finally gave it to Goodwill.
could not ever wear
his old clothes burning my skin
lonely child once more
Published in Contemporary Haibun Online
Patricia Jeanne Mendoza
absence, confusion, depression, feelings, grief, heartbroken,
Coz we're like two writers afraid of papers
Two singers with stage scares
Or maybe I am the mouth of the dog
If you're my tail
Around and round
I chase you to ground
And perhaps you're Shakespeare nervous of criticisms
And Poseidon's heir
With fear to sail
If love's enough and everything
Why can't it be our glue
Or help us sing
Until our second verse
Can at least lull our ending
You said it now and I can't help it
My walls were crumbling down
Your words were such wonder
And they left me hanging and tender
But we're two lovers
Afraid of holding tight
With their echoes that hovers
Shrouding shadows in our sight
And so together we can't be
Far apart like shores of sea
courage, death, death of a friend, fear, life, loneliness, war,
As a rhapsody of death plays like the weary wind, I slowly inch through the choking fear of each blood spent memory. I am a grain of sand in this scattered mind of uncertainty and for now the pain has fallen away like my fellow soldier's whom live no more. Onward, pushing, I crawl in bitter memory of my homeland and my newborn son I may never see.
a weary song
in a distant field a bird
In Vietnam, all helicopters were called "birds"
It is a thorny impossible situation. No one is talking, eyes are red, feelings are not being shared. No one knows who to trust. Whoever did this is either a friend or an enemy, and no one except the killer knows
which. We are moving around each other with distrustful glances, suspecting our best friends, our cousins, our coworkers. Hoping we are wrong. It is a trying time, and it does not dissipate for months. Death is bad, but murder is somehow worse. We are on autopilot, jumping at loud sounds, never fully the same.
Paralyzed by fear
Never fully fixable,
We suspect our friends
Written for Mick Talbot's Haibun Contest
on June 25, 2018
Three o'clock at noon when the sun pierces the water. The gaze of the tree adjust the mood of the atmospehre. He's arriving with a loving notion to take away his tributes. He comes around yet still in his abode. Finally he comes with his throng,to apprehend his friend's debt. He's knocking on his friends door,pulling the locks off their pouch. He goes in cowardly taking the debt off his friend bravely.
he his escaping
with the debt-
the breath of his friend.
James Edward Lee Sr.
analogy, appreciation, encouraging, feelings, grief, happiness, sorrow,
I can’t see myself my face reflects my joys in the past three years I’ve lost my wife, my job of 22 years.
Yet have I still left a mortgage, some bills, no insurance, sadden … why I am yet still smiling you may ask.
I ‘m but a sparrow
and my God shall provide for me
all my every needs
Hey, Write a Happy Haibun Poetry Contest
Haibun poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
analogy, eulogy, farewell,
Broken dreams, broken life walking the railroad track. No destination. Hold onto what goodness and sanity that was left. Following his infectious smile worn on a veneered face. To set aside the sunshine. Pools of sadness in unwelcome rain invaded his heart's dominion. Headphones bumping the song of his youth and sting of his tumbling thoughts. The train from behind came. Taking him far away from his incongruous existence.
Things being as they should
Weeping washed away by ignorance
Turn up the Music Please
death, house, love, rose,
You can open your eyes now, darling. Surpise! I bought it two days ago. This is a living room. There will be nursery. There's no furniture in a here yet, except that vase on the floor. Please, put this beautiful white rose in it. One day there will be a hundred of them for the number of years we spend together. And now I suggest we go to a restaurant to celebrate our one-year anniversary. Yep, a bit. Nope, I had only a glass of wine. All right, you drive, sweety.
black rot in the vase
dry rose petals on the floor
dark boarded-up house
Writing Challenge, October- Flower Or Flowers- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode
angel, birth, death,
In evening gowns, with wispy wings, tenderly they twirled, whilst astral handkerchiefs conjoined them — the diamond disco ball, your first sun. Intricacy of threads unwind. Each angel reaps half to dab their eyes, as your born again between the moon and stars — this day began in a confined space. . . now seraphim commend you.
the sewing circle —
the silver and golden threads
waltzing through fingers