They attend a funeral robed in white, and a wedding in mourning.
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Some they avoided a poor ant's funeral
No drums, no marching and no bugles,
Not much crowd as expected
Only few relatives behind the anthill.
The President of ants has sent a deepest sympathy
That's saying; 'Sorry, I am not able to attend your funeral
As I have to be present in an Elephant's wedding.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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White Funeral
sitting alone with nowhere to go
ignoring the static from the radio
that interrupts my favorite song
haven’t loved it in so long
some say love is a foolish thing
and although not in all cases
i can’t help but agree
with the smarter majority
so many weddings
just white funerals
a hand to hold
for the rest of her life
open to the bliss
and the carelessness
be careful, more careful
does it still feel right
i’ll apologize in all the places
where i frowned at all the smiling faces
i just wonder if that will be me
with a wedding dress and a history
so much thought in an august moment
i’m living in my favorite season
but winter’s here, and taking control
as we let the rest of our days unfold
so many weddings
just white funerals
someone she barely knows
becomes her life
open to neglect
and disrespect
that comes with the one
she loved last night
i think of someone i know
better than anyone
i think i’ll be more optomistic
when this is done
can’t help but to think
that my white funeral
won’t be a funeral at all
because i know him
she doesn’t know him
so many weddings
just white funerals
but i’m so glad
that won’t be mine
open to his
fuffilled promises
he knows who i am
we’ll be fine
the white funeral is over
the bride’s been burried
in her own mistake
poem by Jade Leven
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Mourning in Andalusia
If white is the colour
of mourning in Andalusia,
it is a proper custom.
Look at me,
I dress myself in the white
of white hair
in mourning for youth.
poem by Abu l-Hasan al-Husri
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Requiem Éire
There is a place not far from Yeats' Tower.
No life grows there, no lively tune, nor poets power
Has ever rang of this land. Yet here I may recall,
In remembrance, Roscommon; land of the funeral pall.
Headstones have they planted in every field,
Springing forth from grey faced loins, and thus a graveyard yield.
The dead outnumber the living, the youth long gone from the yard.
Inevitably interred in the adjoining garden, they stamped down hard.
There was a wedding there amongst the old dying firs.
The bride wore white, with flowers from a broken wreath.
A funeral plot the wedding gift- a family grave.
Life was buried there; man, woman and unborn child.
What they had, they gave,
And into the ground they piled.
poem by Keith Moynihan O' Brien
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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
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Red Velvet Wedding
It was a wedding of white
Spattered with red—
The flowers sang celebrations
As the old bell rang
The time was approaching
The time was running
They took their places
They played their parts
In this wedding of white
Dripping in red—
Some cheered and smiled
Some quietly rejoiced
The music danced
And the world spun
The stars shone
But the night fell
On this wedding of white
Laced in red.
poem by Annia Rosa
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Quatro Stagione
the autumn is the wedding
of a leaf and wind
the winter is the wedding
of the white and flake
the spring is the wedding
of a bloom and water
the summer is the wedding
of seasons that make
each year of a heavenly disguise
a place to beauty rise
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A May Wedding
A May Wedding
As a bride who has the long veil around her head
The dogwood has white petals and they hide branches on the tree.
When it is time for her to kiss the groom
And the petals fall gently.
They become a white cloth spread neatly.
This looks like a wedding dress with a long train behind her
As she is walking down the aisle in the room
The wedding bells are ringing until she is out of sight
The wind appears and I see white doves in flight.
poem by Meg Harrison
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A Life Lived
Life of spite and defiance
To watch people tooling around on Mars
To celebrate the end of the last war
To attend the funeral of corporate personhood
76th wedding anniversary walking across the dry Ganga
Hundredth birthday drinking my age in pints of beer
Why don't you join me? Consider yourself invited
To throw a bushel of rose petals from the space elevator
Zero emissions ambulance sweeping me to the hospital
And I'll saddle up my Horse for the ride home
All bad things must one day end and so will I
poem by Tribhuvan Mendiratta
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Cry of the fatherless son
I will not mourn my father's death
I won't even be struck by his death.
I will not contribute a coin to buy his coffin,
Or for the funeral which I won't even attend.
As is the custom,
I won't name my first son after him.
My children won't ever see photos of him.
I will not tell them tales
that my father supposedly told me.
His name in my house will never ring a bell,
Neither will he ring my doorbell -
For if he does I will let my dogs loose on him,
no matter how old and frail he'll be.
His name in my house shall be forbidden.
But how could I mourn your death?
How would your death strike me?
How could I contribute to your funeral?
Or attend your funeral?
As is custom,
how should I name my son after you?
And how would my children see your photos?
What tales did you tell me,
so I can tell them?
How could your name even ring a bell,
Or you ring my doorbell?
How would I let my dogs loose on you,
An old stranger that I haven't
My eyes set on?
Forgive me.
poem by Kimani wa Mumbi
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Wearing White
Phones were ringing, tongues were wagging
Hot gossip was flying
All around town
She heard the talk, the lowdown was
The shameless color of
Her wedding gown
It's white
I mean really who's she trying to kid
Everybody knows the things she did
It just isn't right
Won't that be a sight
To see her wearing white
She was wild, a wayward child
To put it mildly
She made her life a mess
But she was young, the past is done
Now she's in love
And putting on a new dress
It's white
And it's nobody's business what she wears
Anyway the truth is she don't care
Baby it's her life
She'll do what she likes
And she likes wearing white
He's all nerves when he sees her
As far as he's concerned
She's an angel
In white
He just can't believe that she is his
What a crazy miracle this is
Who she was he don't mind
'Cause on their wedding night
She'll be wearing white
She'll be wearing white
She'll be wearing white
song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Wedding Angels
As you promise 'I do'
My mind reflects the wedding
I lost and the white dresses
I burnt.
As the Camera man takes your images
Your beautiful wedding pictures
Remind me of the beauty
Of the wedding day
I lost.
poem by Emmanuel Monychol
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Funerals are a Festival
An old lady was dead. She was my father’s
Mother’s elder sister, who brought him up
After his mother’s death when he was at seven.
I went with him to attend the funeral.
Then I was fifteen; no sadness engulfed;
Not aware how much it engulfed my father.
My funeral will be a festival to
Most who would come there for connections.
21.01.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Wedding
By the country road I was going silent.
It was deserted and long in the view.
The accordeons had started playing suddenly,
And the silence waved her hands, being confused.
And there was wedding, wedding, wedding singing,
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!
Under play of the rural orchestra the wind joked
With the bride's white veil trying to twine.
The bridegroom was so serious, the bride was
Inconceivably, amazingly young.
The troikas passed by with the sound ringing,
* troika - three horses, harnessed together
And I felt the breath of spring, fresh and new.
I was going alone and unmarried,
And regretted of me being not a groom.
Somewhere was wedding, wedding, wedding singing
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!
poem by Robert Rozhdestvensky, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Warning Signs
If years have passed and your children are grown
The mortgage is paid and you have a second home
And in the garage are Mercedes’ and Jag’s and parked
At the dock is a yacht.
If you find your wife in a black tennis dress
Her face all covered by a gossamer shroud
At the funeral of an old friend,
You had better check around for emergent webs,
And a bright red spot on a shiny black bug
The next funeral your attend
Could well be your own...
poem by Stephen S. Yeandle
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Spirits
Angel spirits of sleep,
White-robed, with silver hair,
In your meadows fair,
Where the willows weep,
And the sad moonbeam
On the gliding stream
Writes her scatter'd dream:
Angel spirits of sleep,
Dancing to the weir
In the hollow roar
Of its waters deep;
Know ye how men say
That ye haunt no more
Isle and grassy shore
With your moonlit play;
That ye dance not here,
White-robed spirits of sleep,
All the summer night
Threading dances light?
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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Borrowing is like a wedding, repaying is like mourning.
I did not attend his funeral, but I wrote a nice letter saying I approved it.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A wedding is like a funeral, but with musicians.