When your own funeral is approaching, you don't pick and choose your grave diggers.
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The Diggers
The diggers are digging, and digging deep,
They’re digging and singing,
And I’m asleep.
They’re digging and singing and swiftly they’re swinging
The flying earth as it falls in a heap.
And some of it scatters and falls on my head;
But the diggers dig on. They can only dig.
They can only sing and their eyes are big,
Their eyes are big and heavy as lead.
They dig and they sing and they think I’m dead
The diggers are digging, and filling the hole.
They’re sighing and singing.
They pray for my soul.
I hear what they say, and from where I am lying,
I hear a new corporal calling the roll.
But the diggers dig on and fill in my bed,
They diggers dig on, and they sweat and they sweat.
They sigh and they sign, and their wyes are wet.
The brown earth clatters and covers my head;
Then I laugh and I laugh, for they think that I’m dead.
poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ball And Chain
(Colin Moulding)
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Don't want demolition,
Don't want your compensation,
It's not just bricks and mortar,
We are lambs to slaughter.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Must we live in fear,
From those who shed no tears?
Our one and only shelter,
Your games, your helter skelter.
Motorways and office blocks,
They're standing on the spot
Where stood a home,
Crushing on the memories of people,
Who have since turned to stone.
(Ahh)
They've turned to stone,
(Ahh)
They've turned to stone.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Made Okay To Do It Your Way
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You complained,
That you couldn't take the weight.
And a waiting too late makes it okay.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ball & Chain
(colin moulding)
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Dont want demolition,
Dont want your compensation,
Its not just bricks and mortar,
We are lambs to slaughter.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
Must we live in fear,
From those who shed no tears?
Our one and only shelter,
Your games, your helter skelter.
Motorways and office blocks,
Theyre standing on the spot
Where stood a home,
Crushing on the memories of people,
Who have since turned to stone.
(ahh)
Theyve turned to stone,
(ahh)
Theyve turned to stone.
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Save us from the ball and chain,
Oh yeah,
The diggers and the tower cranes,
The diggers and the tower cranes.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Those Kids Are Mine
Pick any hour you choose to believe,
I am fast asleep.
With dreams of royalities.
And making acceptance speeches,
Behind raised and decorated podiums.
After reciting poem after poem,
Without a wish to get needed rest.
Pick any hour you choose to believe,
That hour is the time to begin your creeping.
When I release my 'children',
From the state of mind I fall into...
That seems to turn me on.
And...
I am creating 'children birthing from my pen.
Pick any hour your choose,
To molest any one of them.
And I will be at your door before you get there.
To begin your craft of flagrant plagiarism.
Pick any hour you choose to believe,
That hour is the time to begin your creeping.
You've been getting closer and closer...
But,
You touch one of my kids.
I will be at your door before you get there.
To discredit every move you've made,
To claim what's mine.
To do, redo, re-state or redefine.
Those kids are mine! And we know each other,
Very well.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Funeral for love
Funeral for love
~
In the night it rains
Cold and heavy against my skin
Running into my eyes
Almost blinding me completely
I am in the garden
Digging a hole to be a grave
The burial of my love
An old shoebox sits by my feet
Filled with the letters and pictures
The poems I wrote in her name
Tonight they shall fall away
Into the silence of a watery grave
Never to be seen or heard again
I would have burnt them all
Built a funeral pyre for them
But for the rain which falls
No flame would have took
Like the fire in my heart
Washed away into nothing
In the cold rain of the night
I leave my love laying unmarked
In the silence of a watery grave
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When i die
when i die
i do not choose
whether my coffin is made
of coconut planks
or metal casing
i cannot choose but only those
who mourn for me
if they ever will
shall choose what they think
must fit me: the color and size
of my niche
whether flowers be skipped
or snacks be served
or blessing be made
i do not choose: what epitaphs
must they write
or sculpt on marble
or gold
i cannot choose what funeral rites
shall be
what church? who the priest shall be
that sprinkle water
over me?
in truth i do not care
for by then i cannot feel
in fact
what they have
in truth is only
my shell
joyous then
shall i escape somewhere
an angel guide
perhaps
or what if there's no one
there
or nothing dear?
what do i really care?
i still can't feel.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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We Live In The World We Build
You can choose from the crops of unhappiness…
or you can unearth the joy from your heart.
You can choose to draw from your dark stormy life…
or believe that only rainbow's beauty follows rain.
You can choose to pollute the air you breathe…
or do no harm to the environs of human or all life form.
You can choose to produce foods by man’s means …
or allow it to be produced by nature’s teams.
You can choose to live in jealousy and hate or
live with love and you won’t have none of the above.
You can choose to make war
or you can make love instead...
You can choose to pluck the thorns…
or pick red, yellow, and pink roses, instead.
You deserve your world that
built brick by brick.
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Refuse
Everythings heaven sent
Thats what you said and went
Inside your fairy glass
Somethin you think will last
And when they crop you like a clown
You got your smile on upside down
B-baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find omebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
And everythings on a whim
Thats what you said to him
Lyin in wunderlust
Are feelings you never trust
And when they pamper you with ice
I cant believe you dont think twice
Uh baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
And everyone makes the play
With nothing left much to say
Theyre all in an endless line
Waiting for equal time
They keep screaming its the truth
And you keep kneelin in the booth
Oh baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
Oh, I do refuse
(I do refuse)
Oh, you got nothin to lose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
I refuse
(I do refuse)
Ah, oo-oo
(I do refuse)
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
I refuse
(I do refuse)
Oo, oh got nothin to lose
(I do refuse)
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
[fade]
song performed by by Cars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Choose The Things in Your Life
0 choose your friend who must be good as you;
And choose your spouse better than you; make sure;
And choose the one best as your Teacher too;
And choose ambitions that suit your nature.
0 choose the profession thats truly best;
And choose the hobbies that ne'er interfere;
And choose your Time to begin work, take rest;
And choose your enemies, you surely fear.
0 choose your food that gives extended health;
And choose your garments -comfortable wear;
And choose the honest way to added wealth;
And choose the burden right, body can bear.
0 choose the people who deserve help most;
And choose good principles, yet never boast.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moved Earth
In unthinkable death how do you carry
yourself?
An intimate dialogue with death
Fearless, undaunted.
I admire your grit.
One thin blade, one silken noose
but you want to face the bullet
straight in your heart.
The death should come instantly, because you
want to be witness, your head falling with
grace.
Why did you chase death
whistling on the beach,
taunting the eccentric sky
like muted revenge.
The grave will be too small for you
Your legs sticking out.
Lime burning your eyes.
Turning back the grave diggers may
not like to face your moved earth!
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We would pick you
Dad, if all the fathers
had lined up one by one,
and someone told your children to pick,
with no doubt & thinking we'd still choose
you to be your children.
Because, we're proud to have a father like you,
who listens and understands to our troubles,
who teaches us to be patient
without price.
Dad, you are our hero
our role model in all we do
So, dad if we could pick again,
Be sure that your children would pick
you again and again and that
because you are really super hero!
http: //super23man.skyrock.com/
poem by Oussama samouna
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pick It Up Or Be Gone
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Don't try to imitate,
Homemade cake.
Oh no.
And don't ever try to duplicate,
A delicious taste.
Or...
Butter up faked mashed potatos.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
Oooow.
Pick it up or be gone.
Yeah.
Pick it up or be gone.
Now...
Pick it up or be gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Is a Mockery of Life
Death is a mockery of life
They who have lived it through, are dead
So what about death can be said
It lingers in the living room after the funeral
They who have lived it through are dead
We do not speak of death too much
It lingers in the living room after the funeral
We try not to think about the lonely grave
We do not speak of deah too much
It is always raining in the grave yard
We try not to think about the lonely grave
Where no one seems to be, but only was
It is always raining in the grave yard
Some flowers grow between the tombstones
As nature doesn’t care about it, live or death
Just carry on as usual
Some flowers grow between the tombstones
So what about death can be said
Just carry on as usual
Death is a mockery of life
poem by Ina SchrodersZeeders
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Modern Love XLI: How Many a Thing
How many a thing which we cast to the ground,
When others pick it up becomes a gem!
We grasp at all the wealth it is to them;
And by reflected light its worth is found.
Yet for us still 'tis nothing! and that zeal
Of false appreciation quickly fades.
This truth is little known to human shades,
How rare from their own instinct 'tis to feel!
They waste the soul with spurious desire,
That is not the ripe flame upon the bough.
We two have taken up a lifeless vow
To rob a living passion: dust for fire!
Madam is grave, and eyes the clock that tells
Approaching midnight. We have struck despair
Into two hearts. O, look we like a pair
Who for fresh nuptials joyfully yield all else?
poem by George Meredith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red
Put your hand in the paintbox and choose
Which one says the most about you
I would have to pick the deepest shade
The saddest shade of blue
But red is colour Id choose
Red is colour Id choose
I set my soul long ago and far away
Oh its written down so deep it can never fade away
Though so many years have come and gone
Through my life one thing has stayed
An eternal light that shines clean through the grey
Red is colour Id choose
Deepest red on a sky of deepest blue
It dont matter now if I should win
If I should win or lose
cos red is colour Id choose
If I waste my time away waiting just for you
I dont care what others say
cos baby I just love, love what you do
Red is colour Id choose
Deepest red on a sky of deepest blue
It dont matter now if I should win
If I should win or lose
cos red is colour Id choose
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unlooked-for
I received an e-mail from Devil de Morals.
'Hey! My dear pen-pusher you are just wasting the time,
Scribbling lot of nonsense and still you could not get a publisher.
Did you see the advertisement?
They published in the World paper immediate vacancies.
Post for the grave-diggers there, qualifications are not required it seems.
Only the personality and capability are mandatory.
I am sorry that I couldn't tell that I have already applied for you.
So do not get surprised once they call for you an interview.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Song For My Funeral
A Song For My Funeral
when they buried him
a young boy
in a cardboard box
somewhere in the green mountain
there was a song nobody knew
there was a song
unknown and unsung
I know the song
it has been silent for many years
buried in an unmarked grave
a dead boy does not age
I shall be writing the song
for my funeral to come
it will be there
for you to sing
wherever you are
Suchoon Mo
- Lucid Rhythms, issue 2, June 2008 -
poem by Suchoon Mo_
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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