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Stupid Eulogy
Dalton was an interesting fellow --
you might even say odd -- different
from the rest of the crazy crowd.
But I suppose we're each unique
and certain cherished qualies
we summon in our human characters
give significance, making us individually special.
Dalton was a friendly, charming spirit;
passionate and excited
practicing principles and virtues
sprouting from his heart every day.
He was very serious even as a young child
eventually manifesting into monk persona.
We're happy to have a collection
of his thoughts and poems, but Dalton's death
is the greatest tragedy to us.
I understand the urge to
I understand the urge to write a poem like this, and it reminds me of Stevens' elegy (one of two) about himself, "The Planet On The Table," but the reality is that you are not yet in the past tense (as your first line implies). And in this case, the reader is more informed than the poem, because the reader is aware of the greatness you have already demonstrated on postpoems, although the poem barely, if at all, touches upon that.
Starward