July death poems and poems about death for July. Read and share these heartfelt July death poems with loved ones, friends and family members. Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for non-death related poems or July Poems.
My birthday is in month of.........July!
Our wedding date falls in...........July!
Then is it any wonder I ask........why
Why did I lose you in ...............July?
We buried you on my...... .........birthday.
I always get the birthday ..........blues.
I do not need this sad ..............remind
Of the cruel July day you left......me.
I've had fifty-three long years....of
Loneliness and longing for my....love
Suddenly taken away and....... .lost
Written August 1, 15
death, heaven, jesus, july, love, mom, mother,
You left us on the Fourth of July
Now my heart is filled with unexpected pain
I remember when you would say to look at the sky
To find the moon, now that is on memory lane.
You would sing us the sweetest lullaby
Even though you were far away
And simple phone call to pacify
The miles traveled in a day
But ever since the day you've been gone,
I've succeeded in many things you'd be proud of
It has been so hard for us to move on
I just keep thinking of you up above
No matter the miles that keep is apart
You will forever and always be in my heart.
Anthony O. Mitchell Jr.
age, april, august, autumn, beautiful, beauty, boat, change, death, february, happy, imagination, introspection, january, journey, july, june, life, nature, november, october, summer, tree, winter,
If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.
For many years this day was one
Of my favorite times of having fun.
Until this date in Sixty-two
Ripped into my heart, cut it in two.
To leave it shredded for evermore.
He would never again come through the door.
Oh how we cried, the children and I,
Father was gone, too young to die.
Just as we were planning fun by the ton,
Urgent phone call and all was done.
Love was forever snatched away.
Years have gone by, it still hurts today.
death, faith, funeral, holiday, life, loss, lost love, timehome, home,
Fourth of July..
Dead bodies, a cry
People must come back home soon…
Enough with the war!
To all of those brave men who will never be home to celebrate our Independence
day this weekend, and the years to come!
Fatima Hasan Zaidi
A same night, a week back
Passed as the night, the week back
Took all away from me the person
Who was mine, my eternal life.
cancer, dad, death, dedication, tribute,
When I saw you in your casket, it brought tears to my eyes.
You died two years ago today on the thirteenth day of July.
When the doctors said that your illness was terminal, I didn't want to believe that it was true.
But sadly, they were correct and two years ago today, we lost you.
From 1975 to 2010 you worked at Woodcraft, you worked with lumber.
People may think that I'm crazy because I believe that 13 is an unlucky number.
You died on the thirteenth year of the century and also on the thirteenth day of July.
You took Chemotherapy treatments for months and two years ago today, you died.
[Dedicated to Charles F. Johnson (1947-2013) who died on July 13, 2013 at the age of 65.]
america, anniversary, bereavement, character,
O my Four of July, what dream of mine
Shall I give you wolf?
A job? A foreclosure paradise?
A world of light
Towards the spectrum of death?
But such awareness call it nightmare –
Not even the illusion of being buried by dust
Under the heat of a claiming day
Like silly worm tries to hold life telling the moon it is going
To be a tomorrow better
And sing the waste of a song
That old song as you can see it.
death, inspirational, on writing and words, people, july, people,
(Dedicated to Fred Gwynne who died July 2, 1993. He starred as Herman
You had bolts in your neck and a flat head.
Your skin was green and you were undead.
When people saw you, they screamed and ran.
You were very funny and you were also a scary man.
I loved to see you frighten people and make them flee.
But sadly the world lost you in July of 1993.
The summer air hangs still.
Hawk and whippoorwill
Wing mournful down the graying skies…
Hearken to their cries!
And then the faintest breeze
Murmurs in the trees…
And at the Lonesome Place
Spirits sigh in space.
William J. Jr. Atfield
July 26th, 2009
This card and these flowers are not the arms
I wanted to hold you with, to comfort you with,
to support you with during these troubling times.
I do hope, though, that you will accept them in place
of all that I wanted to give to you from my heart and soul.
I do hope that, in them, you can see that they convey
my deepest sympathies for your loss and the issues that followed.
I also hope that, in them, you may find some sense of solace,
that may help you get through and past all that has been,
and is, and will be before you.
Fourth of July
For the entire office
a death like his
coming as it has
the day before
the weekend of the Fourth
complicates the holiday
It makes things difficult
for all: the wake,
the other matters.
confusion, death, people, places, sad,
before war, a wonderous sight.
A sky full of light.
Acrid smell of sulfur.
A reawakening of the child within.
A couple years later,
homecoming long past,
the sounds of freedom ring loud.
previous sounds of joy,
now release fear and dread.
Instant return to war.
Hot and dusty world,
keeping my head down,
I duck and hide.
They say it's normal.
That it's okay.
How can I tell them,
I don't want to live this way.
I guess some day
enough time will pass.
to once again...
Enjoy Freedom's Day.
city, summer, sympathy,
He Wears a Blue Hot Uniform
On this unseasonably July hot afternoon,
The wet postman with weary steps, trods down the sidewalk home.
An ill-clad lady caught him crushing her lingering white flowers,
And though she was annoyed, would not
Scold him, but, instead,
She wouldst hand him a cold cloth and water for his dripping head,
Pat him on his shoulder, pick up a a dirty dropped letter,
And then retreat into her air-conditioning.
On this unseasonably July hot afternoon.
anxiety, care, death, july, mental illness,
The ground looks closer today;
Shall I do or Shall I witness?
Tempting and bright, flashes thousands of memories;
Is there save slot or any revive?
Or even reset button for a new life?
The ground looks closer today;
They call me now, Shall I heed?
What a gentleman indeed!
No more regret, no more cost,
A fine day for me to boast.
The GROUND looks closer today;
The same thought comes again.
By torrential warming rains
Virus greets mourning