Dem Bones!
My Husband's Grandmother,
who had reached the grand old age of 98 years,
died one 23rd of December,
and as her funeral couldn't be organised
until the 6th of January, the following year,
her Son asked the Funeral Director,
to explain what was happening to his Mother
over the Christmas period.
The Funeral Director in his severe black suit,
with a face even more severe,
placed a hand on the Son's shoulder, and said,
'Don't you worry, Mr Taylor,
we have a Skeleton Staff in over Christmas'.
This is a true story, but we found it to be so hilarious.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
When I Heard That You Died
I couldn’t bring myself to go to your funeral.
I couldn’t look at your lifeless body, because it wasn’t you.
It was an empty shell, the empty shell of my best friend.
I couldn’t look at your peaceful face without crying, and I had cried enough.
I cried a lifetimes worth of tears when I heard that you died.
So, I couldn’t bring myself to go to your funeral.
But I did go down to the river, remember?
Where we liked to play and relax when we were younger.
I went down to the river and threw a flower in the water.
I watched it get sucked under and dragged away, and I thought of you flying up to heaven.
A brief smile crossed my face, until the tears once again began to cloud my vision.
Happy you are safe, but sad to say goodbye.
So, it turns out, even though I couldn’t bring myself to go to your funeral,
The tears will come, and will always come when I think about this day.
The day when I heard that you died.
poem by Rachel Brewer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What'll We Do For Christmas?
What'll we do for Christmas? A child said to her Mother,
Shall we have a christmas party, cake and ice cream too;
With lots of balloons and streamers, and a star as well,
But; the mother said, give to an orphan, a Christmas bell,
Then tell them to come for tea, tell them the Christmas story;
This is what God wants us to do, to share with our family
What'll we do for Christmas, said a boy to His father,
Can we have a holiday, and take our things I'd rather;
Buy some good things to eat, and help my grandmother,
But the father said lets invite, a poor man or lady to tea,
Shower them with kindness, as we have plenty;
This is what God wants us to do, show love from you and me.
What'll we do for Christmas said children to their teacher,
Shall we have a Christmas concert, and ask the preacher;
And invite our family, and all our friends as well too,
The teacher said 'twas a great idea, the Christmas story true;
About Mary and Joseph, and Jesus born in a stable,
But remember the story is so true, it isn't just a fable.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My ex-mother in law
My ex-mother in law
was an unusual person
that could wish others
into death
and when my ex-wife’s
first husband died from cancer
she believed
that the Lord God
answered her prayer
and for me
she also prayed a thousand times
that same prayer
and fasted
and put tears with it
although I didn’t really
deserve it,
but here I am still
and it’s another story.
Her husband
falls down on the golf course
and is dead from a heart attack
and he hits his last ball
away into the bushes
without any control.
At the funeral
I had to help carry the coffin,
wash dishes
and what ever
my mother in law asked.
Father in law
had a small black dog
that went everywhere with him
and smoked pipe
like Van Donck
cannot stoke up on table mountain
and the dog
then also had to die
although it was great in health
and could still live for years.
I had to take mother in law
to the vet
as she couldn’t drive a car
and hold the animal
while he got
a last injection
and dig a grave
in the garden
and put him there.
l’Envoi
Now I wonder
what goes into such a person
that after her husband’s death,
she is finished
with every thing of his
and married
in months again
with somebody
to keep her company?
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ballade Of The Hardy Annual
Many a jest that refuses to die
Bobs up again as the seasons appear;
Deathless it hits us again in the eye-
Changeless and dull as the calendar year.
Musty and mouldy and yellow and sere,
Stronger, withal, than the sturdiest oak;
Ancient and solemn and deadly and drear-
Down with the grandmother-funeral joke!
Soon as the snow has forgotten to fly,
All through the day of the 'leathery sphere,'
Jokelets and pictures and verses we spy
All on the theme of the grandmother dear.
Bonnets, umbrellas, and buckets of beer
Please us and tickle us quite to the choke.
But-on this matter our attitude's clear-
Down with the grandmother-funeral joke!
Giggle we can at a blueberry pie;
Scream at a comedy king or ameer;
Simply guffaw when the jestermen guy
Marriage, a thing at which no one should jeer.
Things that in others elicit a tear
All of our risibles simply unyoke;
But from this stand we're unwilling to veer:
Down with the grandmother-funeral joke!
L'ENVOI
Brothers in motley, the season is here;
Small is the boon that we sadly invoke:
Butcher it, murder it, jump on its ear! -
Down with the grandmother-funeral joke!
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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!
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!
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!
Booby Prize Or a Fine Romance? 1
Every once in awhile,
you hear a funny story,
and sometimes you wonder
if what is written there
is fiction or true.
Normally you will not question,
in case it embarrasses or offends.
Well I what I am about to tell you
is it a fib or is it true?
Some thirty-eight years ago,
I went to a funeral of a friend
and ended up with the widow
as a booby prize.
So if I told you that
is exactly how I met my wife,
would you believe me
or would you think I am having you on?
You would be wrong
to think I was having you on.
Because it was at her first husband’s funeral that we met.
It was a few weeks later
a bunch of his friend met, in a coffee bar.
Someone suggested
one of us should take the widow out,
and I drew the short straw
and I got the booby prize
all those years ago,
or was it a fine romance.
I will leave it up to you to decide.
2 July 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Everything's Gonna Be Cool This Christmas
Remember last year when you were on your own
You swore the spirit couldn't be found
December rolled around and you were counting on it to roll out
But everything's gonna be cool this christmas
Everything's gonna be cool this christmas
Everything's gonna be cool this christmas
Well everybody's waiting for you down at the house
The tree is looking so inspired
There's a yuletide groove waiting for you to move
Come on and throw another log on the fire
And everything's gonna be cool this christmas
Everything's gonna be cool this christmas
Everything's gonna be cool this christmas
Baby jesus, born to rock
As the days go by, the more that we need friends
And the harder they are to find
If i could have a friend like you in my life
Then i guess i'd be doing just fine
And everything's gonna be cool this christmas
Everything's gonna be cool this christmas
Everything's gonna be cool this christmas
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
They prepared her funeral
They sat at table,
as before.
All adult now.
Engaged with laptops,
' funeral readings, poems for..a death'.
' She liked Vivaldi, and John O'Donohue,
and che gelida manina,
and Pie Jesus'
Their father cried,
silently, in the bedroom.
The christmas Tree,
all lit seemed dull.
Their Mother had just died,
without an explanation,
nor an expectation.
The presents were named,
and wrapped,
the christmas tree,
with presents beneath,
seemed, well,
silent.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thank God Its Christmas
Words and music by brian may and roger taylor
Oh my love weve had our share of tears
Oh my friend weve had our hopes and fears
Oh my friends its been a long hard year
But now its christmas
Yes its christmas
Thank God its christmas
The moon and stars seem awful cold and bright
Lets hope the snow will make this christmas right
My friend the world will share this special night
Because its christmas
Yes its christmas
Thank God its christmas
For one night
Thank God its christmas yeah
Thank God its christmas
Thank God its christmas
Can it be christmas?
Let it be christmas
Evry day
Oh my love weve lived in troubled days
Oh my friend we have the strangest ways
All my friends on this one day of days
Thank God its christmas
Yes its christmas
Thank God its christmas
For one day
Thank God its christmas
Yes its christmas
Thank God its christmas
Oooh yeah
Thank God its christmas
Yes yes yes yes its christmas
Thank God its christmas
For one day
A very merry christmas to you all
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At The Funeral They Cried
At the funeral they cried,
So much sadness pouring out, it was a surprise
To know they’d hated her whilst she was still alive.
But so it goes, the bottled up years of grief given relief,
The pain of loss, that bollocking from the boss,
All those months of feeling cross
And times you had to lie,
All, all comes pouring out
In one long cry.
At the funeral they tried
To think of the woman who’d died,
But found they cried most easily
For themselves.
Coz they didnt care for me,
The woman that died.
poem by Charlotte Marie Peachey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our Christmas
Our Christmas
Christmas came early for you and for me
Christmas with no gifts to open
Christmas without any yuletide tree
Christmas with words of love spoken
Christmas was walking to York hand in hand
Christmas in awe at the Minster
Christmas togetherness was just what we planned
Christmas was chaffed legs and blisters
Christmas was cups of tea served early morn
Christmas was being together
Christmas was loving from dusk until dawn
Christmas remembered forever
Christmas was driving through floods for the view
Christmas ‘our planning’ was starting
Christmas our Christmas meant so much to me
Christmas our bitter sweet parting
poem by Stephen Holland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Funeral Party
Two pale figures
Ache in silence
Timeless
In the quiet ground
Side by side
In age and sadness
I watched
And acted wordlessly
As piece by piece
You performed your story
Moving through an unknown past
Dancing at the funeral party
Memories of childrens dreams
Lie lifeless
Fading
Lifeless
Hand in hand with fear and shadows
Crying at the funeral party
I heard a song
And turned away
As piece by piece
You performed your story
Noiselessly across the floor
Dancing at the funeral party
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Booby Prize Or A Fine Romance? 2
Yesterday I wrote a joke poem,
Booby Prize Or A Fine Romance,
it told the story of how I met my wife,
all those years ago.
Yes, it was at her first husband’s funeral,
and yes a group of us
met a couple weeks later in a coffee bar,
but no it was not the drawing of a straw,
it was that I volunteered,
which I guess was lucky for me,
because on the 12th of September this year
we celebrate our 37th Wedding Anniversary.
Her first husband was a friend,
but he was a womaniser.
He met his dead in a suicide pact
with a fourteen-year-old girl.
He left a wife and two small children,
without a thought or care,
a month before Christmas that year.
Some said I was brave
to take on a ready-made family.
I do not think I was brave,
but very lucky that day.
We have had our ups and downs
like all families do,
but I would not change a bit of it.
The greatest gifts I received that day,
was a family for a lonely life,
and tolerance through trouble and strife.
Therefore, it is with thanks to them,
I am the man I am today.
poem by David Harris
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!
Christmas Lights
Christmas Lights
Shiny and Bright
You decorate Christmas Trees,
You decorate houses.
And you can be found
In the fireplace
Glowing away
Christmas Lights
You brighten up my night
Every year
In the month of December
Inside and outside
Christmas Lights
You're a joy
To see
Every Christmas season
poem by Emily Krauss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mother Sparrow Grieves Upon The Untimely Death Of Her Beloved Fledgling
today, there is no grand funeral
like that of the death of
a statesman
or that simple funeral fit for
a laborer in the world of
mankind,
the mother sparrow grieves over
the death of her fledgling
there is no burial
they do not know what are white flowers
their meaning
the torn wings are carried by the worker-ants
some useless feathers are left above a sand mound
soon there are skeletons of frail bones
baked throughout the year by the sun
soon only dusts
the mother sparrow as we knew it from science
does not keep a memory
they keep on their far journey
nest from nest to nest on those seasons
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Funeral Song
You told me the song to play at your funeral
As if I can think that far ahead
I haven't even held your hand
or kissed your face
ran my fingers through your hair
or trailed them down your chest
i've never looked in your eyes
and told you that i love you
your touch I've never felt
nor the warmth of your body on mine
But you told me the song to play at your funeral
A grand assumption don't you think
poem by Alien Girl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!