Rest In Peace! (for fun poem)
Rest in Peace!
its a joke? ? ? Who knows?
I know, with all my diggings!
Dead for thousands times
and no one single rest
So well buried but not finally dead
Sorry if i disappointed!
this time with a bouquet of black flowers
To put on your perfect grave!
Rest in peace!
ha, ha, ha
poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Rest In Peace
WHO DARES TO DISTURB THE DEAD?
WHY THEN IS THE DEAD A GHOST?
THEY ARE ABROAD THAT OUGHT TO BE AT REST,
YEA, THE DEAD NO LONGER RESTS IN PEACE,
TELL YE THE TRUTH,
DOES THE DEAD LIVE ON IN CAPTIVITY?
WHY THEN DOES THE DEAD CRY FOR IT'S LOST INNOCENCE?
THOUGH I BE DEAD,
I LIVE ON IN TEARS,
I WEEP FOR MY LOST INNOCENCE,
YEA, THE DEAD NO LONGER REST IN PEACE,
THE THIEVES HAVE STOLEN MY LIFE AND MY DEATH,
YEA, NO ONE DEAD, EVER REST'S IN PEACE!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'll Sleep When I Am Dead
J. Bon Jovi, R. Sambora, D. Child)
Seven days of saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for Sunday
'Cause I don't rest in peace
Don't need no Mondays
Or the rest of the week
I spend a lot of time in bed
But baby I don't like to sleep no
I won't lie to you
I'm necer gonna cry to you
I'll probably drive you wild 8 days a week
Until I'm 6 feet under
Baby I don't need a bed
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
So you're looking for some action
I got got everything you need
Better keep your motor running
'cause I was built for speed
This ain't no slumber party
Got no time for catching z's
If they say that that ain't healthy
Well then living's a disease
We're never going to die baby
Come on let me drive you crazy
We'll make every night another New Year's Eve
Till I'm six feet under
I won't need a bed
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Sleep when I'm dead, sleep when I'm dead
Gonna live while I'm alive,
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Seven days of Saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for Sunday
'Cause I don't rest in peace
I was born to live
You know I wasn't born to die
But if they party down in heaven
I'll be sure to be on time
Until I'm six feet under
I don't need a bed
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
I feel like I'm exploding
Going out of my head
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till I'm six feet under
And they lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Sleep when I'm dead, sleep when I'm dead
Gonna live while I'm alive, sleep when I'm dead
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A minute of silence
May the soul that has
Departed rest in peace
You did so much
For the world
You owe the world nothing
The world did so much for you
It is only fair for you to go to
Your place of eternal rest knowing
That the world large is not
Indebted to you
The world and you were firm friend
The world and you will be friends
When you both meet again
May the soul that has departed
Rest in peace and hanker not
After the things of the world
The wold has freed the dead
And let there be peace in Heaven
And the world will find peace
Alleluia!
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Christmas Eve: 1872
Peace in the snowy breast,
O cloud from storm at rest!
Peace in the winds that sleep
Upon the deep.
Peace in the starry height:
Peace infinite,
Through all the worlds that move
Within His love.
O! all sad hearts, that be
On land or on the sea,
God’s peace with you rest light
This Christmas night!
And with the souls that stand
In that dear land
Where pain and all tears cease,
Most perfect peace!
poem by Ina D. Coolbrith
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Ill Sleep When Im Dead
Seven days of saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for sunday
cause I dont rest in peace
Dont need no mondays
Or the rest of the week
I spend a lot of time in bed
But baby I dont like to sleep no
I wont lie to you
Im never gonna cry to you
Ill probably drive you wild 8 days a week
Until Im 6 feet under
Baby I dont need a bed
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
So youre looking for some action
I got got everything you need
Better keep your motor running
cause I was built for speed
This aint no slumber party
Got no time for catching zs
If they say that that aint healthy
Well then livings a disease
Were never going to die baby
Come on let me drive you crazy
Well make every night another new years eve
Till Im six feet under
I wont need a bed
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Sleep when Im dead, sleep when Im dead
Gonna live while Im alive,
Ill sleep when Im dead
Seven days of saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for sunday
cause I dont rest in peace
I was born to live
You know I wasnt born to die
But if they party down in heaven
Ill be sure to be on time
Until Im six feet under
I dont need a bed
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
I feel like Im exploding
Going out of my head
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Till Im six feet under
And they lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Sleep when Im dead, sleep when Im dead
Gonna live while Im alive, sleep when Im dead
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream Land
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1893)
Submitted by anonym
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Dream-Land
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Aaron
Holiness on the head,
Light and perfection on the breast,
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead
To led them unto life and rest.
Thus are true Aarons dressed.
Profaneness in my head,
Defects and darkness in my breast,
A noise of passions ringing me for dead
Unto a place where is no rest.
Poor priest thus am I dressed.
Only another head
I have, another heart and breast,
another music, making live not dead,
without whom I could have no rest:
In him I am well dressed.
Christ is my only head,
My alone only heart and breast,
My only music, striking me even dead;
That to the old man I may rest,
And be in him new dressed.
So holy in my head,
Perfect and light in my dear breast,
My doctrine tuned by Christ, (who is not dead,
But lives in me while I do rest)
Come people; Aaron's dressed.
poem by George Herbert
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The Peace Activists Grave
The one who loved peace she was buried today
And peace it surrounds her now where she does lay
But a bugler for her the last post did not play
No heroes for peace or it would seem that way.
Though in her honour there never will be a parade
To speak against war she was never afraid
And though patriots did not like what she had to say
For her views such a price she was prepared to pay.
She was a peace activist until her end
And to those who loved peace she was always a friend
Her motto was the one without sin cast the stone
And war was one thing she could never condone.
Though she was one who was quite honourable and brave
No National flag at the peace activists grave
She first saw light of day in nineteen thirty four
And may she now rest in peace forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The White Lady
I cannot rest, I cannot rest
In straight and shiny wood,
My woven hands upon my breast--
The dead are all so good!
The earth is cool across their eyes;
They lie there quietly.
But I am neither old nor wise;
They do not welcome me.
Where never I walked alone before,
I wander in the weeds;
And people scream and bar the door,
And rattle at their beads.
We cannot rest, we never rest
Within a narrow bed
Who still must love the living best--
Who hate the pompous dead!
poem by Dorothy Parker
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I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
Seven days of Saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for Sunday
'Cause I don't rest in peace
Don't need no Mondays
Or the rest of the week
I spend a lot of time in bed
But baby I don't like to sleep on
I won't lie to you
I'm never gonna cry to you
I'll probably drive you wild 8 days a week
Until I'm 6 feet under
Baby I don't need a bed
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
So you're looking for some action
I got everything you need
Better keep your motor running
song performed by by Bon Jovi from Keep The Faith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Boomer
Mario's brother is dead. In Brazilia
of the green and yellow flag, at the matches
where we drink beer and watch them run.
All of a sudden. A shock.
Just when he was finally getting happy-
leaving behind a wife and child.
Who will fortunately want for nothing
except him, of course.
But that too passes. Everything does.
It makes us ashamed to be old
though we are not, in fact, that-
hailing from the generation that never dies.
'Thanks for sharing, ' I text.
'Joy is short and troubles abound.
There is still that ideal configuration
of Reality we call the Beautiful
and those who struggle to perceive it.'
-But it doesn't sound real. I delet it.
May he rest in peace, ' I next text,
and it sounds good, yes, this is it.
'May he rest in peace.'
poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Rest Might
The rest might...
Criticize.
The rest might,
Analyze the times.
But these are
Only the times to live.
And these are
Only the times to give...
'What' and 'how' we can.
The rest might...
Try to hide.
The rest might,
Cry with alibis.
But sympathies
Really do not pay.
Not even wishing
That these times go away.
Nothing,
Today will stay!
The rest might...
Close their eyes.
The rest might,
Fight themselves inside.
But even having nothing more to say...
Wont make a difference,
If all things decay...
Right before our eyes!
The rest might...
Criticize.
The rest might,
Analyze the times.
But these are
Only the times to live.
And these are
Only the times to give...
'What' and 'how' we can.
So live your life enhanced!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Dead Poets
I envy the dead poets
Those idols I aspire to
Someday become compared
How beautiful their words
Still speak in the years after
They are revered and admired
Held aloft in such acclaim
And all they know is peace
The silent rest of the grave
Where flowers are laid
They spoke of such love
And passion I felt in me
It was as though they saw me
And decided to paint my dreams
With flowing verse I slept
How maidens so fair danced
And birdsong soared upon high
Ode to the beauty
That they gave to me
They are remembered for love
Romanticism bore their pen
And while they sleep
The words are speaking aloud
Into the world and every soul
How I envy the dead poets
How I wish for me their role
To rest and my poetry read
Be known for beautiful love
And hurt no more
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Parade
The crowd is looking drowned
And a mother in tears
There are flipflapping flags in the silence
And a national anthems a blues in these days
Flag him down, rest in peace
What peace do you mean when the boys are coming back
Hes live on tv
Hes dead as a hero can be
But he didnt die for nothing, my dear
The video of his death is travelling the world
Flag him down, rest in peace
What peace do you mean when the boys are coming back
In coffins
Way back in the crowd
A girl says goodbye to a boy
To a boy whos parading to heaven
And she puts all the blame on the gouvernment
Hes live on tv
Dead as a hero can be
...when the boys are parading to heaven, my friend
Put all the blame on you
On you
Echolette/1993
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem for November 28,2007
At rest, in peace, and happily,
in silence, in stillness, and joyfully,
honour yourself. Be yourself.
When you honour yourself
you honour the whole created world.
Live just this day in your glorious self.
Remember it for the rest of your life
as the day the world rested in itself,
the day we were all at rest in peace,
the day the world was a happy place
and you were glad to be that peace;
the day we were all ourself.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Promised Rest
Men must truly believe friend lest, they’ll miss God’s promised rest,
Within true faith men must receive, Jesus Christ when they believe.
God’s rest begins as you believe, and continues on until you leave,
Until you leave this temporal life, only if you believe in Jesus Christ.
God through Paul was concerned, just as Israel men hadn’t learned,
As sin had hardened their hearts, from them God would soon depart.
Although they had seen conquest, many in the land did not see rest.
Men today can also be deceived, by men who say they’ve believed.
Those who believe in their head, without Christ, are spiritually dead.
Without Him they won’t be blessed, or receive God’s promised rest.
God’s rest starts down here, when we come to God in reverent fear,
Knowing our life will one day end, and we need Christ as our friend.
A friend who helps start each day, with you in a new and restful way,
This as you rest in God’s only Son, The Lord Jesus, God’s Holy One.
After a week with hearts stressed, we have in Christ a Sabbath rest,
Just like our Creator up in Heaven, men rest from work one in seven.
While upon earth, whatever the test, in The Lord we can always rest,
Guiding us with His staff and rod, Christ fills us with the peace of God.
With our sin as far as east from west, we will soon enter Eternal Rest,
In robes of white we shall be dressed, and live life eternally at its best.
(Copyright ©08/2006)
What is Peace? ?
What is peace? ?
Peace is when you care for others,
Peace is when there is no violence in the world,
Peace is much more powerful then evil,
Peace is easily found when you give others what you desire,
Peace is the answer to all the wars in the world,
Peace is when there is unity among all the people,
Peace is when your soul can rest,
Peace is when there is hope of good above,
Peace is when there is love for others,
Peace is when there is acceptance in the world,
Peace is bringing joy to the world,
Peace is in helping others
This is what Peace is,
This and much more!
poem by Uzma Nadeem
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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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Some Fortunate Dead
Those, who are gone, left in the memory,
An incredulous effect. No one can believe that these folks,
Then and there, are no more. They are gone in the sea,
Without saying goodbye, they are living in the black space.
The dead are never gone, they are missing, buried
In an inexplicable void. They are somewhere; nowhere.
They neither live nor breathe. They are scattered
In the hearts, in the erroneous minds of the street, somewhere.
It was yesterday that the new dead were laughing and dreaming,
It was this morning that I saw them live, live, in flesh.
I thought they were all the close friends of Methos.
Those, who are hardly living, abruptly found peace,
The rest they sought since the first leap of the heart;
They are now away from fear, sorrow and pain.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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