He who comes for the inheritance is often made to pay for the funeral.
Related quotes
Come for your inheritance and you may have to pay for the funeral.
When someone claims an inheritance, he sometimes has to pay for the funeral.
Inheritance taxes are so high that the happiest mourner at a rich man's funeral is usually Uncle Sam.
quote by Olin Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Handel Concerto Grosso
it was like a meeting
of cats
the objective of which
is to bell the
dog
who among you has the courage to do the belling of the dog?
yes the meeting among brothers and sisters
before mother died
before father followed her
before my grandfather died
it is about land, money
it is all about inheritance
who would spend to the funeral without reimbursement?
who would shoulder the bills of their hospitalization using private funds?
none would do that
my youngest brother said they died and they have their own money
let them spend for themselves then
what i want is, he said, which inheritance is mine
that is all i need, who cares?
so who will take the bell of this dog's greed?
handel play on play on they are killing each other.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Night Funeral in Harlem
Night funeral
In Harlem:
Where did they get
Them two fine cars?
Insurance man, he did not pay--
His insurance lapsed the other day--
Yet they got a satin box
for his head to lay.
Night funeral
In Harlem:
Who was it sent
That wreath of flowers?
Them flowers came
from that poor boy's friends--
They'll want flowers, too,
When they meet their ends.
Night funeral
in Harlem:
Who preached that
Black boy to his grave?
Old preacher man
Preached that boy away--
Charged Five Dollars
His girl friend had to pay.
Night funeral
In Harlem:
When it was all over
And the lid shut on his head
and the organ had done played
and the last prayers been said
and six pallbearers
Carried him out for dead
And off down Lenox Avenue
That long black hearse done sped,
The street light
At his corner
Shined just like a tear--
That boy that they was mournin'
Was so dear, so dear
To them folks that brought the flowers,
To that girl who paid the preacher man--
It was all their tears that made
That poor boy's
Funeral grand.
Night funeral
In Harlem.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Funeral Becomes a Must
Funeral of the Mind
becomes must though should not
Aggregation-and-Aggravation
be in halt.
Funeral of the Heart
becomes must though should not
Affliction-and-Abjection
be in halt.
Funeral becomes a Must!
poem by Roseville Nidea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lord of Stripes
In my dreams
I take the paws
Of a lonely tiger
And together we dance
My love, I’ll find you
Ablaze in a funeral pyre
We swim together
The tiger and I
Through cities
Made of emerald
My love, I’ll find you
Ablaze in a funeral pyre
Lions watch jealously
As the king of the jungle
Is passed over
For the lord of the dance
My love, I’ll wait for you
Ablaze in a funeral pyre.
poem by Jeffrey McCambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Never Mourn At My Funeral
Never mourn at my funeral
Because i'm not dead but sleeping
And relaxing on Abraham's bossom
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in view to mourning
But within you, you're here to mock
Because my poetry has once expose your secret-deeds
Throw my body where you please
Or let it be dismembered
Never mourn at my funeral
You the insect that bites my daffodils
And you who want my fish to swim on a dry earth
Throw me on a stormy sea
Where Jonah fell
But its a glorious shame
I can never sight the river bank of Joppa
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in my maker's name
Just to bless my end
Go thy way and search for lust souls
Wear them a garment pure as snow
Before they lie low with me
And journey hell eternal
Never mourn at my funeral
But mourn for we're debtors of death
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sestina - Safe Hands
I enfold her as if I hold in my hands
A diaphanous shawl woven loosely
From silken skeins of hope and fear. I feel
Strongly, she’s so much part of me. Obliviously
She wriggles free. I glance at my daughter
Her mum, and marvel at inheritance.
I wrap all this stuff of inheritance
Into trust, quietly hoping the safe hands
Of my kindly, compassionate daughter
Will suffice. Experience tells me loosely
Held reigns are best. The child plays obliviously.
I watch. She echoes in me. Trembling I feel
The pain inevitably she will feel.
I fear quietly; knowing her inheritance;
The curse of memory. Now obliviously
She recalls careless conversation. Hands
On to me stray words, understood loosely
With looks I try to forewarn my daughter
But the treacherous trait has skipped. My daughter
Down to earth, sensible, is born not to feel
Hurts that haunt, doubts that linger loosely.
If only we could choose the inheritance
We bequeath. But it is out of our hands,
We make love, create life obliviously.
I say nothing, pretend obliviously
Disguise fears I dare not share. My daughter
Who loves her, is all she needs. Holding hands
We walk through bustling, crowded streets. I feel
Her tiny linked fingers. The inheritance
Of knowing held gently within mine, loosely.
The web of my life was woven loosely
I held fast to no-one. Obliviously
This child makes me unearth an inheritance
Painstakingly hid. Bonded by my daughter
To my granddaughter tenderly I feel
Burning passions branded into our hands.
Envoi
I held her loosely, I let my daughter
Feel, obliviously unaware of my
Inheritance, she unbinds my hands
poem by Janet Budd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lilacs At My Funeral
Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs when I’m dead
Lilacs in my coffin
Placed gently by my head
Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs when I’m gone
Lilacs to help send me
On my journey home
Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs for my grave
Lilacs instead of roses
Think of the money you will save
1978
www.dakotaraeaustin.com
poem by Dakota Austin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The grand funeral
The President sent the condolence.
The minister made appearance.
The eminent made their presence.
I’m proud my parent’s funeral was grand.
25.11.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Ability To Climb Out Of Ditches
Everyday it may be easy for you,
To use your inheritance...
As a vehicle to compare,
How you were able to pull your bootstraps up...
From a place you declare had been nowhere.
When I have survived with nothing left to spare.
My ancestors did not leave me an inheritance.
And my ability to climb out of ditches,
Did not begin with my pocket full of riches.
And for you to think with others to believe,
Your quality of life has been earned as received...
Is a delusion you fantasize that has become your reality.
I've been enriched with the knowing...
No Pain, No Gain.
You've been enriched with a knowing,
Of a painless existence.
And even if you experienced a little of it...
I could never seriously regard you as a competitor.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Funeral Bell
The funeral bell is ringing a reminder of our mortality
Farewelling a deceased soul one day 'twill ring for me
Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day
Across the rural city in the morning damp and gray.
The funeral bell is pealing for one a last farewell
And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell
Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky
For one bound for her or his last resting place the cemetery nearby.
The peewees in the town park distinctive in their call
And the magpie on a wattle pipe on this cool morning in the Fall
And for one who will not breathe again the eulogy is read
And the funeral bell is tolling in memory of the dead.
The funeral bell is ringing for one a last goodbye
And on the clock of our mortality the hours just seem to fly
Respect to the departed is all that we can pay
And for each and everyone of us a final night and day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
His Funeral Song
I remember
Like it was almost yesterday
His funeral
Because it took place
Many years ago
And the memories
Of his funeral still
Fresh on my mind even today
I am not being senical at all
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Funeral by funeral, theory advances.
quote by Paul Samuelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
His Funeral Is Mine
He is just a young man,
With little knowledge of his own future.
Little did he know,
His funeral was coming in days time.
Years have passed him by,
And little did I know,
I fell in love with him,
He fell in love with me.
Little did we both know,
Too little.
I figured out from his unhappiness,
His marriage was the day of his funeral.
I know the right thing to do is to stay away from him,
But he's too charming,
He has me locked in his magic spell,
His funeral has become mine.
As I fall asleep each night,
I remember the minutes in his presence,
As I know he is spending the night
With his wife..
poem by Petra Tawfik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I had a thought on your funeral...
Eighty years of life
on this Earth
Was it worth?
I had a thought on your funeral.
Eighty years ago in heaven
when you were just the soul
and wanted to forever become
a part of this whole
You urged God to grant you a life
And promised
you would this time achieve your goal
But did you keep your promise at all?
I had a thought on your funeral.
The aim of your taking birth was
Service, contribution and asceticism
You instead chose
Hoarding, platitude and hedonism
God prescribed
Love, joy and compassion
On your life you inscribed
Jealousy, gloom and repression
I had a thought on your funeral.
Childhood’s dawn wiped out in dependence
Lust devoured on the morning of adolescence
Youth’s noon you squandered
due to fear and apprehension
Dusk of old age got totaled in
egotism, vanity and pretension
I had a thought on your funeral.
I asked myself
Was I any different from you?
Was I keeping my own promise to God?
The response from within came in negative
My heart did not give the nod
Seeing you sleeping in God’s lap
with a performance that was dismal
Your funeral appeared to me
as God’s signal
And I realized I had a chance to change
before I reached my own burial.
I had a thought on your funeral.
(30.08.2011; New Delhi; India)
poem by Anshul Gupta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Armies Of Ghosts
Commotion is stronger to feel when near,
The agitating sphere crazes us when to adorn.
Censure must be made of the despicable,
A funeral has appeared openly for those back.
The jar of silver is of the rich and famous,
Wine shall be drunk and make your feelings strong,
Wine shall inhibit the reactions of silver.
More commotion results as a funeral, a burial,
A beautiful observation makes its point.
Fear and panic resumes in the house of horror,
When motionless speakers are the ghosts of the buried.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Problem With Living Too Long
A godlier man, there never lived -
My dear old Uncle Fred,
And throngs should fill the funeral home
When word comes that he's dead.
For the numbers at the funeral home
Are a measure of one's worth;
The sum of all the lives one's touched
While here upon the earth.
But few will visit the funeral home
When my Uncle passes on,
For he's lived so long that those he's touched
Are already dead and gone.