Related quotes: When I am Dead, few...

An Epitaph On Her Self.

When I am Dead, few Friends attend my Hearse,
And for a Monument, I leave my VERSE.

poem by Anne Killigrew
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Before the Birth of One of Her Children

All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joys attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,
But with death's parting blow is sure to meet.
The sentence past is most irrevocable,
A common thing, yet oh, inevitable.
How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend.
How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend,
We both are ignorant, yet love bids me
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
That when that knot's untied that made us one,
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.
And if I see not half my days that's due,
What nature would, God grant to yours and you;
The many faults that well you know
I have Let be interred in my oblivious grave;
If any worth or virtue were in me,
Let that live freshly in thy memory
And when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harms,
Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms.
And when thy loss shall be repaid with gains
Look to my little babes, my dear remains.
And if thou love thyself, or loved'st me,
These O protect from step-dame's injury.
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse,
With some sad sighs honour my absent hearse;
And kiss this paper for thy love's dear sake,
Who with salt tears this last farewell did take.

poem by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by anonym
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You Can Contribute A Verse

Contribute a verse, contribute a verse,
Who can contribute a verse?
Contribute a verse, contribute a verse,
You can contribute a verse.

You may be an underpaid lab’rer,
Streetsweeper or overworked nurse,
A migrant without any papers,
But you can contribute a verse.

You left school at sixteen with no GCSEs?
Did you graduate from Oxford with a First?
Makes no diff’rence, not one bit, for you both are fully fit,
Well-equipped to lay before the world a verse.

You may have no notes in your wallet,
You may have no coins in your purse,
No shoes on your feet, no breakfast to eat,
But you can contribute a verse.

Are you feeling sad and lonely,
In the depths of misery?
Do you feel this Life we’re living
Is not worth the entrance fee?

Are you sure that things will not get any better?
Quite persuaded they will go from bad to worse?
No great problem, drama, crisis, doesn’t matter,
As long as you can come up with a verse.

And it’s possible you’ve heard that our days upon this earth
Are not many, are not many, precious few.
We have hardly enough time to take in all of the sights,
Or do the things that we would like to do.

For we’ve barely crawled out of the cradle,
Then they cart us away in a hearse.
So, in the meantime don’t be idle:
Be sure to contribute a verse!

27/9/06

poem by Denys E. W. Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Day Someone Will Say The Same Of Me

The hearse through the main street is passing slow
With the funeral cars following in a single row
Is the dead person a he or a she?
One day someone will say the same of me.

And did that person die young or old
And will her or his life story be told?
To the departed that does not matter 'twould seem
As the dead do not have a sense of self esteem.

The funeral towards the cemetery winds it's way
Up through the main street at noon of day
But on the cortege shoppers no interest show
As in and out of shops they go.

The dead from the Land of the living gone
But life for the living must go on
And the same fate surely awaits you and I
As the dead person in the hearse going by.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Sigillum Diaboli

I cant see as Im facing your pityful lies
Dont have the strength to carry your heavy load of life
Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh
I cant see through your eyes, bring your tears on me
I will leave the body for your shoulder you just have to killing
Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Just as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
So Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
So Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh, so youve come from above
And you say you want to
And I kill myself for your love
Im killing myself for you, yes you
I cant see as I face your pityful lies
Dont have the strength to carry your heavy load of life
Im your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Yes you do
Yes you do, my darling
Yes you do..oh
Yes you do, oh my love

song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Drunkard's Funeral

"Yes," said the sister with the little pinched face,
The busy little sister with the funny little tract: —
"This is the climax, the grand fifth act.
There rides the proud, at the finish of his race.
There goes the hearse, the mourners cry,
The respectable hearse goes slowly by.
The wife of the dead has money in her purse,
The children are in health, so it might have been worse.
That fellow in the coffin led a life most foul.
A fierce defender of the red bar-tender,
At the church he would rail,
At the preacher he would howl.
He planted every deviltry to see it grow.
He wasted half his income on the lewd and the low.
He would trade engender for the red bar-tender,
He would homage render to the red bar-tender,
And in ultimate surrender to the red bar-tender,
He died of the tremens, as crazy as a loon,
And his friends were glad, when the end came soon.
There goes the hearse, the mourners cry,
The respectable hearse goes slowly by.
And now, good friends, since you see how it ends,
Let each nation-mender flay the red bar-tender, —
Abhor
The transgression
Of the red bar-tender, —
Ruin
The profession
Of the red bar-tender:
Force him into business where his work does good.
Let him learn how to plough, let him learn to chop wood,
Let him learn how to plough, let him learn to chop wood.

"The moral,
The conclusion,
The verdict now you know:—
'The saloon must go,
The saloon must go,
The saloon,
The saloon,
The saloon,
Must go.'"

"You are right, little sister," I said to myself,
"You are right, good sister," I said.
"Though you wear a mussy bonnet
On your little gray head,
You are right, little sister," I said.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Ultima Thule: Bayard Taylor

Dead he lay among his books!
The peace of God was in his looks.

As the statues in the gloom
Watch o'er Maximilian's tomb,

So those volumes from their shelves
Watched him, silent as themselves.

Ah! his hand will nevermore
Turn their storied pages o'er;

Nevermore his lips repeat
Songs of theirs, however sweet.

Let the lifeless body rest!
He is gone, who was its guest;

Gone, as travellers haste to leave
An inn, nor tarry until eve.

Traveller! in what realms afar,
In what planet, in what star,

In what vast, aerial space,
Shines the light upon thy face?

In what gardens of delight
Rest thy weary feet to-night?

Poet! thou, whose latest verse
Was a garland on thy hearse;

Thou hast sung, with organ tone,
In Deukalion's life, thine own;

On the ruins of the Past
Blooms the perfect flower at last.

Friend! but yesterday the bells
Rang for thee their loud farewells;

And to-day they toll for thee,
Lying dead beyond the sea;

Lying dead among thy books,
The peace of God in all thy looks!

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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My Friends

My friends without shields walk on the target

It is late the windows are breaking

My friends without shoes leave
What they love
Grief moves among them as a fire among
Its bells
My friends without clocks turn
On the dial they turn
They part

My friends with names like gloves set out
Bare handed as they have lived
And nobody knows them
It is they that lay the wreaths at the milestones it is their
Cups that are found at the wells
And are then chained up

My friends without feet sit by the wall
Nodding to the lame orchestra
Brotherhood it says on the decorations
My friend without eyes sits in the rain smiling
With a nest of salt in his hand

My friends without fathers or houses hear
Doors opening in the darkness
Whose halls announce

Behold the smoke has come home

My friends and I have in common
The present a wax bell in a wax belfry
This message telling of
Metals this
Hunger for the sake of hunger this owl in the heart
And these hands one
For asking one for applause

My friends with nothing leave it behind
In a box
My friends without keys go out from the jails it is night
They take the same road they miss
Each other they invent the same banner in the dark
They ask their way only of sentries too proud to breathe

At dawn the stars on their flag will vanish

The water will turn up their footprints and the day will rise
Like a monument to my
Friends the forgotten

poem by William Stanley Merwin
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I'm Sorry

Im so sorry
Verse 1:
Boy we've been cool for so long now
Just left and throw that away
Thinkin' that we would be lovers
But I dont look at you that way
Im sorry
Chorus:
I gotta go away cause I didnt mean to leave you
(ohh)
You say I broke your heart, but I didnt mean to leave you
(ohh)
And It's hard to hear the truth
And Im feelin' that cause you loved me
Im sorry
Verse 2:
You got a wife and a family
I wouldent throw that away
Im not the type of girl to break up a happy home
Even though we could be friends
But it seems fair
Chorus 2x's
Bridge:
What did I do
Tell me what did I do
I didn't try to
I didnt wanna hurt you
Reapet bridge 1 more time
Chorus

song performed by by Christina Milian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dead Lover

Time is so long when a man is dead!
Some one sews; and the room is made
Very clean; and the light is shed
Soft through the window-shade.

Yesterday I thought: 'I know
Just how the bells will sound, and how
The friends will talk, and the sermon go,
And the hearse-horse bow and bow!'

This is to-day; and I have no thing
To think of-- nothing whatever to do
But to hear the throb of the pulse of a wing
That wants to fly back to you.

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Stigmata Diaboli

I can't see as I'm facing your pityful lies
Don't have the strength to carry your heavy load of life
I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
oh
I can't see through your eyes, spill your tears on me
I will lift the burden from your shoulders just to have killing
I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Just as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
Oh as well as I do
I'm your christ to and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
So I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Oh, so you've come from above
and you say you want it all
I cut myself for your love
I'm killing myself for you, yes you
I can't see as I'm facing your pityful lies
Don't have the strength to carry your heavy load of life
I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
I'm your christ and I want you
I just woke up for hearse and you know it as well as I do
Yes you do
Yes you do, my Darling
Yes you do..oh
Yes you do, oh my Love
so....

song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sadness

Vague and spectral
as a dimming taper

Limned in darkness
Like a departing hearse

Into ash
Like burning paper

Life lived in
Dim shadow of verse

poem by David Whalen
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All Dead, All Dead

Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone

song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General

"His Grace! impossible! what, dead!
Of old age too, and in his bed!
And could that mighty warrior fall,
And so inglorious, after all?
Well, since he's gone, no matter how,
The last loud trump must wake him now;
And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger,
He'd wish to sleep a little longer.
And could he be indeed so old
As by the newspapers we're told?
Threescore, I think, is pretty high;
'Twas time in conscience he should die!
This world he cumber'd long enough;
He burnt his candle to the snuff;
And that's the reason, some folks think,
He left behind so great a stink.
Behold his funeral appears,
Nor widows' sighs, nor orphans' tears,
Wont at such times each heart to pierce,
Attend the progress of his hearse.
But what of that? his friends may say,
He had those honours in his day.
True to his profit and his pride,
He made them weep before he died

Come hither, all ye empty things!
Ye bubbles rais'd by breath of kings!
Who float upon the tide of state;
Come hither, and behold your fate!
Let pride be taught by this rebuke,
How very mean a thing's a duke;
From all his ill-got honours flung,
Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung"

poem by Jonathan Swift
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Key To The Highway

(by charles segar and willie broonzy)
I got the key to the highway,
Billed out and bound to go.
Im gonna leave here running;
Walking is most too slow.
Im going back to the border
Woman, where Im better known.
You know you havent done nothing,
Drove a good man away from home.
Live verse: when the moon peeks over the mountains
Ill be on my way.
Im gonna roam this old highway
Until the break of day.
Oh give me one, one more kiss mama
Just before I go,
cause when I leave this time you know i,
I wont be back no more.
First verse
Second verse

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen

{verse 1)
Nobody knows the trouble I've seen
Nobody knows but Jesus
Nobody knows the trouble I've seen
Glory Hallelujah
-repeat verse-
Sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down
Yes lord, you know sometimes I'm almost to the ground
O yes, Lord, still
-verse 1-
You got here before I do
O yes Lord, don't forget to tell all my friends I'm coming too
O yes Lord, still
-verse 1-

song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Free Verse

I admire all the aims of Free Verse,
‘tis explicit in all that I do
in shaping the stress to converse
with a rhyme-scheme restricted to two.

That I stay with this number is true, -
a linguistic abuse, maybe worse,
how it weighs and encumbers the view! -
but French art needs its aid, though perverse.

Else the Muse would be dumb to a curse,
for to accent, the lingo’s deaf too, -
though what can one do? All’s averse
to fantasy rhyme calls on cue!

May Free Verse’s aims bring joy unto
the young sparks who chance meanings coerce -
whose mental gymnastics’ fun value
is the fire to inspire hopes they’d nurse.

They’re young colts who green pastures traverse
with gravity worthy their virtue,
though mad they’re superb, and no hearse
they’d inherit! Free Verse tempts! You too?

poem by Paul Verlaine, translated by Jonathan Robin
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The Ballad of Old Clonbroney

The Ballad of Old Clonbroney

One night dark walking along
A lane onto its end,
A neighbour walked up to a house
To call upon a friend.
The neighbour was new, his friends wife too
Had arrived not long ago,
And friendship new as neighbours do
They called on one another each other to know.

And as he approached the house,
He wondered at how strange shadows moves,
It looked as if it were a hearse,
And all of a sudden a sound of hooves,
And a wall through at terrific speed,
Driven by a horseman with no head,
A hearse up through the feilds fleed
To Old Clonbroney with its dead.

Our hero stood there shaking,
Wondered if he imaged was what he had seen,
When the woman opened the door to the house,
Asked where the horses had been?
He raced into the house so fast,
Slammed behind him the door,
Told how the hearse before him passed,
And where it came from before...

That it went up to Old Clonbroney,
After driving through a wall,
But it was not real: twas but a ghost,
For the wall was not damaged at all.
And drinking whiskey strong his nerves setlled down,
Though still great in him was fear,
Though you may mock and you may frown,
You too would shake if the headless horseman did appear...

And in time the husband returned,
A miller he was by trade,
He came to see his wife terrified,
And his neighbour, a man strong, afraid,
They told him of the horseman,
Of the hearse, that the man had no head,
He srugged his shoulder with a sigh,
Declared one of the neighbours dead.

It was like the banshee,
The miller said of the apparition,
When these neighbours died, the spectre youd see,
So was local superstition,
And so all a prayer they said,
For their own and the deceased sake,
Its not told the name of who was dead,
Or if the miller and his neighbour slept or stayed that night awake!

===========================

The story of a man who met a headless horseman when calling on a neighbour after moving into the area.
Apperantly this is actually true, the miller he was calling on was an uncle of mine who lived in Clonbroney, where an old road led up to a disused cemetry, and a new road now led to the village. The old road partly made the lane to his house and mill that used to be on the side of the old road, but the road was blocked of at the rear, where both sides had grown in to form one hedgegrow that went up the fiends to the old cemetry.
The poem is to be edited later to make sure the information is correct, but this is the first draft.

poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
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Dead Man Talking

it’s all so funny
even as my friends and relatives
and close ones sit weeping or stand with somber faces;
if I knew all I know now
as I am - cold, dead, finis,
I wouldn’t have done the things I did alive:
and what is it I know, now dead?
It’s for you to find out, mate…
go on and leave me in dead peace,
do your own work, your own living and dying…
I can only tell you just this,
it’s all so funny really…

poem by Raj Arumugam
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Same Ol' G

[verse I]
the only time i drink a 40 is when i wanna drink a 40
and usually when i wear a suit
i leave with not one but two
i'm not trying to hurt nobody
you only live once they told me
you can't be mad at me
i can just be "G"

[chorus:]
even though i got my own c.d.
maybe even on t.v.
there ain't no changing me
i can only be me me me
even though i might be on t.v.
cause i got my own c.d.
all you will ever see
same ol' "G"

[Verse II]
i used to be the main one clubbin
but now i choose to stay at home
most of my friends still thuggin
this time the "G"s full grown
i'm thinking 'bout my future latley
whatever that may be
but now it's clear to me
i can just be "G"

[chorus:]

[Timbaland:]
hello ya'll
yeah this that Timbaland coming to ya one mo 'gain
you see

song performed by by Ginuwine from 100% Ginuwine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

An Epitaph On Her Self.

Related quotes

Before the Birth of One of Her Children

You Can Contribute A Verse

One Day Someone Will Say The Same Of Me

Sigillum Diaboli

The Drunkard's Funeral

Ultima Thule: Bayard Taylor

My Friends

I'm Sorry

The Dead Lover

Stigmata Diaboli

Sadness

All Dead, All Dead

Old Friends

A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General

Key To The Highway

Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen

Free Verse

The Ballad of Old Clonbroney

Dead Man Talking

Same Ol' G

En.Citatepedia®.ro

An Epitaph On Her Self.

Related quotes

Before the Birth of One of Her Children

You Can Contribute A Verse

One Day Someone Will Say The Same Of Me

Sigillum Diaboli

The Drunkard's Funeral

Ultima Thule: Bayard Taylor

My Friends

I'm Sorry

The Dead Lover

Stigmata Diaboli

Sadness

All Dead, All Dead

Old Friends

A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General

Key To The Highway

Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen

Free Verse

The Ballad of Old Clonbroney

Dead Man Talking

Same Ol' G

En.Citatepedia^®.ro