A Tribute To Hope
when hope dies
a cheap funeral is due
the coffin is made of
old mahogany
the flowers are
improvised colored
Japanese paper
cut by ordinary women
of the town
the candles are
recycled
the room is dimly
lighted
with a coconut oil lamp
the mourners
are the very same people
that killed it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
M4
this is a bright day for us
the sun is mild, the air is 26 degrees,
the grass carry the morning dews
the flowers are fully dressed with their
bright colored petals to please the hours
inside the house the leather furniture
glosses over an event
the walls are painted white the beams
and trusses all yellow green
the garage is finally porcelain tiled
expensive tastes dominate here
time is short, the weather gives in
for something that won't last
and then the dirge marches in
a Sunday dress, beloved mourners
the prayers are sung, the candles lighted
another important shit is gone
in this far away town.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I Die
when i die, what shame can i have?
do not take the blame, neither all the shame
you may bury my body with dignity
a coffin made of mahogany
with a glass cover and white carnations
all over my body
there will be a make-up of my face
like i am a freshman of
a class A university,
but i pity you for that will be too expensive
to add the parish priest's fees
and the the food and prayers
plus the songs of the choir
and the cost of candles
not to count the wreath
and the drinks
oh, you will be buried in debt and you will have
all the hard earned years to pay,
so, take it easy, it is more for our advantage
that i will not die or you perhaps
but i have no shame
and i take no blame & grrr
i don't care about what people say
if you die
i will make you a coffin of coconut wood
sprinkle your body with flowers from the grass
that i can pick along the goat's paths
i can pray and sing myself
no one eats snacks and i will not invite the parish priest,
hire no choir or buy ready made wreaths
for i know and you know that these will be very expensive
and i have no money or if i have some
i will not spend a cent
for all these no-sense rituals
useless prayers and out-of-tune choirs
so we will take it easy now,
you can't take it? then fake it
let us live and just be ourselves
let us survive all these
or suffer those consequences.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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A Catnap on a Catafalque
A distinguished person
Sleeps in a Mahogany coffin
Well to do people shake hands
And the Widow sees through her black veil
The robust who's having a chat with the Corpse!
He's not dead just a catnap and she thinks
He would be back after the catalepsy.
When the soil thuds over the coffin
She cries again in the Cemetery
And the robust Chauffeur returned to her
She smiles with him like a parole
And the candles lit in the wind.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Laughing
Laocoon and her two sons
Pressured storm, tried to move
No other more, emotion bound
Martyred, misconstrued
Lighted in a room, lanky room
Lighted, lighted, laughing in tune
Lighted, lighted, laughing
Laocoon and her two sons
Run the gamut, sated view
Know them more, emotion bound
Martyred, misconstrued
Lighted in a room, lanky room
Lighted, lighted, laughing in tune
Lighted, lighted, laughing
In a room, lock the door, latch the room
Lighted, lighted, laughing
Laocoon and her two sons
Ran the gamut, settled new,
Find a place fit to laugh,
Lock the doors, latch the room
Lighted in a room, lanky room
Lighted, lighted, laughing in tune
Lighted, lighted, laughing in tune
Lighted, lighted, laughing in tunes
Lighted, lighted, laughing in tunes
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Forget to Write Your Funeral Plan
Michael Jackson's 'SMILE' played, as the coffin entered everyone stood tall
Mum's poem was read and felt by all
The Mourners were smiling at the photo's of Mum
As the DVD played, no one was glum
Happy pictures were played of Mum's life with a tear
To the tune of the music 'If I Lay Here'
Friends got up for the Eulogy
Wonderful Words spoken of Mum... Now free
Free to move on, to follow a new life
Happy if Dad, finds a new wife
Everyone looked like they were enjoying the moment
In a room full of love; as if Heaven sent
For Mum was so kind and by all adored
Yet sadly the Funeral Conductor looked everso bored
He looked like he had something better to do
This was just a job and he really didn't care just who...
Who had died Or who was grieving
About the life of this person or the world they were leaving
So... Make sure you write.. Your Funeral Plan
It saves pain for the family, A real helping hand
You can choose your Funeral Home, coffin, Cemetery and your music too
It will take away some pain Of losing you
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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My own funeral, I'd like to be laid out in a coffin in my own house. I would like my coffin to be put in the double parlor, and I would like all the flowers to be white.
Yesterday he brought me a rose
And it wasn't our anniversary
But he slapped me the day before
Thinking that I'm his adversary
Then he shoved me, then he kicked me
Then he punched me, but I bit my tongue
Because after all he's my man and he loves me
I'm not so sure and I might be wrong
I think he loves me, he brought me flowers
Sometimes he strikes me, he sometimes beats me
But last night, he raped me in the shower
This morning he brought me a dozen roses
He says he's sorry, but again he hurt me
Again he slapped me, and then he dragged me
But then he kissed me, and then he hugged me
Tonight is special, there are more flowers
There is flowers near my head, flowers near my feet
Again I felt the pain tonight it was so deep
There is candles on my side and people walk by me
Tonight is special and its my funeral
This morning my husband killed me
But after all he loves me.................
poem by Emmy Morin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Ordinary Girl
From an ordinary house, in an ordinary road,
From an ordinary town there came an ordinary girl,
A face that looked surprised, a book of dog earred loans?
Never made a sound, never said a word,
Nothing was ever seen, nothing was ever heard,
In an ordinary town, and an ordinary girl.
She's feeling, outrageous, so daft and courageous,
She's laughing, flirtacious, we're falling, unconscious,
She's selfish, and needy, she's wanton and greedy,
She's mugging, her lovers, she's bleeding her brothers from the level?
In an ordinary house, in an ordinary town,
Upon an ordinary street, nothing was ever found,
By an ordinary girl who never made a sound.
She's up in, the attic, she's bristling, with static
???
She's wanton, and needy, she's selfish and greedy,
She's mugging, her lovers, she's bleeding her brothers from the level?
The ones she's, been kissing, are strangely, gone missing,
The day when you wed her, you saw me unteather,
This feeling, no never, they all went together
With an ordinary girl
song performed by by I Am Kloot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Loves Me.........
Yesterday he brought me a rose
And it wasn't our anniversary
But he slapped me the day before
Thinking that I'm his adversary
Then he shoved me, then he kicked me
Then he punched me, but I bit my tongue
Because after all he's my man and he loves me
I'm not so sure and I might be wrong
I think he loves me, he brought me flowers
Sometimes he strikes me, he sometimes beats me
But last night, he raped me in the shower
This morning he brought me a dozen roses
He says he's sorry, but again he hurt me
Again he slapped me, and then he dragged me
But then he kissed me, and then he hugged me
Tonight is special, there are more flowers
There is flowers near my head, flowers near my feet
Again I felt the pain tonight it was so deep
There is candles on my side and people walk by me
Tonight is special and its my funeral
This morning my husband killed me
But after all he loves me.................
poem by Elvira A Gasser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today We Are Living
The candles have been lighted
The song has been sung
The funeral that we are attending
Is not the last to come
Although he is gone
Let’s not put a fret
But live for today
Don’t worry about debt
poem by Kiana Valdez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Candles
The days of the future stand in front of us
Like a line of candles all alight----
Golden and warm and lively little candles.
The days that are past are left behind,
A mournful row of candles that are out;
The nearer ones are still smoking,
Candles cold, and melted, candles bent.,
I don’t want to see them; their shapes hurt me,
It hurts me to remember the light of them at first.
I look before me at my lighted candles,
I don’t want to turn around and see with horror
How quickly the dark line is lengthening,
How quickly the candles multiply that have been put out.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Turning Japanese
Ive got your picture
Of me and you
You wrote, I love you.
I love you, too
I sit there staring when theres nothing else to do
Oh, its in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I often kiss you when theres no one else around
Ive got your picture, got your picture
Id like a million of em over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Ive got your picture, Ive got your picture
Id like a million of them over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder its dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
Everyone
Thats why Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so)
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so...)
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My movie is born first in my head, dies on paper; is resuscitated by the living persons and real objects I use, which are killed on film but, placed in a certain order and projected on to a screen, come to life again like flowers in water.
quote by Robert Bresson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flowers - Giving It All Away B-side
Renegades and shifting shades
And the lights in your face
And you friends talk lying
But some of them got flowers in their room
When its on and youre falling on every floor
That youre hoping to score
And youre every night ? ? ?
But some of them got flowers in their room
But some of them got flowers in their room
But some of them got flowers in their room
Hear the word that the man on the stairs
Knows your every affair and is holding your hand
And he says some of them got flowers in their room
And he screams in a face
But the smile on the face is cool and its cold
And it reads vacated
And some of them got flowers in their room
And some of them got flowers in their room
And some of them got flowers in their room
And I take someone home and I cant be alone
And theres faces to please and I walk on the knees
Oh you see, I got no flowers in my room
And I laugh with my mouth and I laugh with you
But the joke was a joke that I never really knew
Some of them got flowers in their room
Some of them got flowers in their room
Some of them got flowers in their room
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Miser and his 3rd Wife
1
The Old Miser
my husband is dying
and he makes me promise
I must put all his money in his coffin
when he dies
“O my legal third wife
the only one surviving -
you must put all my money
secretly in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring away all the money
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
2
Now, he’s dead
and I’ve arranged for his funeral
and while everyone’s busy
with all these preparations
I dutifully take all his money
from the hiding place
which he whispered to me
with his last breath
and he bit my ear and he snarled:
“Put all my money
in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
3
So I take all his money
and bring it to the bank
and deposit it in my name
and make a cheque out for 10 million
and put the cheque below his head
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you can take all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
poem by Raj Arumugam
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A Skeletal Man In A Big Town!
He smells Varnish!
Because he works as a wood-polisher
To a Funeral Caretaker.
He nicely polishes
The Coffins
With his stained hands.
He's the owner's pet
The old underdog not paid well.
There he takes
Three meals free and he sleeps
In an old coffin at the Embalm room.
Shrewd Boss loves him very much!
And given him a promise
That he offers the very best Casket
For his going away!
Poor Man in a late evening
Mutters after gulping an illicit liquor in the town.
'I polish their coffins and see my wrinkled face.
As per the Boss's promise the expensive coffin
I never see while I am going
And if he shows when I am alive
I could have polished it well than others?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I usually write about ordinary people and ordinary things, but Paul Farmer is the least ordinary person I've ever met... He's the leader of a small group of people who hope to cure a sick world, and I hope my book can help in some small way.
quote by Tracy Kidder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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