Here is a memorable one from Hunter's Log:

Father's Day

i.m. Vincent Murphy

Sunset, and mallards poured down on the pond.
You shot from a low saddle in the hills,
felling them like a wizard with his wand.
Hip-deep in loon shit, I retrieved your kills.

Ten years since absolution for your sins:
six children by your bed, aged eighty-three,
your last words to the family, "Vince wins."
Today our young priest speaks a homily

on God the Father and the Son he gave
to save this sorry world. We're told to pray
for every father resting in his grave,
for each child who is fatherless today.

Tim wins.

Tim,

I know it's late, but I loved where your voice was coming from. You did right by me in the few times I approached you. Fare well in the beyond, your legacy is safe on earth.

Thank you, too--Catherine, Jennifer, Robert.

Mark

Dear Members of Eratosphere,


One last message of thanks to all of you who sent their thoughts and well-wishes to Tim these past months.



Jennifer has posted the news of Tim's passing this morning on another thread.



The world of poetry has lost a stellar voice, and many of us, a true friend.



Cathy

Closed at the thread starter's request.--Alex