Grief is unlearned
Funerals are thinly attended.
Mourning is shallow and for a day.
Death comes as a relief to inmates.
Man has earned money and unlearned grief.
04.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The funeral
My death would be a piece of news,
Or utmost a surprise or a relief
And in no way a pain or a grief.
Inmates would be busy for my dispatch,
Some would weep and some would be gloomy
As they are there supposed to.
Heirs would be busy in sorting my things.
To see me off, all are busy;
Thank God, I am not there to see.
08.02.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sport Relief
Do something for a child,
Even if you don't feel so wild.
The money that comes,
Can be very big sums.
It goes all to charity,
to help us have parity.
It is all sport relief,
To make lesser grief.
Sport may seem like grief,
But this helps to bring relief.
To those who have grief,
Who should not be a thief.
To earn their living,
So help them get a better living.
They'd do anything for a living,
So please give them a shilling.
poem by Kaleb Brown
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Sonnet: Money
Money when God-given, will everlast;
Though spend you may like water for good deeds;
Money when earned by man will get spent fast;
And never can suffice to meet your needs.
Money when God-given will grow like trees,
And give you many luscious fruits and seeds;
Money when earned by man is gone with th'breeze,
And grows to be like scattered, useless weeds.
Money when God-given in time will stay;
Remaining blest, it helps to change man's fate;
Money when earned by man fritters away,
And invites vices, troubles, peoples' hate.
Money God-given can't beget evils,
The soul stays pure, resistant to devils.
poem by John Celes
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Accustomed to the pain
The innumerable funerals
Witnessed give me hope that after my death
My children will do likewise for me too.
Throwing away people and things valued
By their parents, on their deaths, gives me pain
That mine too will meet the same fate post death.
13.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Ship That Never Returned
On a summer's day while the waves were rippling, with a quiet and a gentle breeze;
A ship set sail with a cargo laden for a port beyond the sea.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
There were sad farewells, there were friends forsaken, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said a feeble lad to his aged mother, I must cross that deep blue sea,
For I hear of a land in the far off country, where there's health and strength for me.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
'Tis a gleam of hope and a maze of danger, and our fate is still to learn,
And a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said this feeble lad to his aged mother, as he kissed his weeping wife,
"Just one more purse of that golden treasure, it will last us all through life.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
"Then we'll live in peace and joy together and enjoy all I have earned."
So they sent him forth with a smile and blessing on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Dark Trinity
Said I to Pain: "You would not dare
Do ill to me."
Said Pain: "Poor fool! Why should I care
Whom you may be?
To clown and king alike I bring
My meed of bane;
Why should you shirk my chastening?"
Said Pain.
Said I to Grief: "No tears have I,
Go on your way."
Said Grief: "Why should I pass you by,
While others pay?
All men must know the way of woe,
From saint to thief,
And tears were meant to overflow,"
Said Grief.
Said I to Death: "From ail and fret
Grant me relief."
Said Death: "I know you are beset
By Pain and Grief.
But my good will you must await
Since human breath
To suffering is consecrate,"
Said Death.
Said I to God: "Pale Sister Grief,
Bleak Brother Pain,
Bedevil me beyond belief,
And Death's unfain . . ."
Said God: "Curse not that blessed Three,
Poor human clod!
Have faith! Believe the One with Me,"
Said God.
poem by Robert William Service
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Grief is a normal and natural response to loss. It is originally an unlearned feeling process. Keeping grief inside increases your pain.
quote by Anne Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Burial of Sir John Mackenzie
(1901)
They played him home to the House of Stones
All the way, all the way,
To his grave in the sound of the winter sea:
The sky was dour, the sky was gray.
They played him home with the chieftain's dirge,
Till the wail was wed to the rolling surge,
They played him home with a sorrowful will
To his grave at the foot of the Holy Hill
And the pipes went mourning all the way.
Strong hands that had struck for right
All the day, all the day,
Folded now in the dark of earth,
Veiled dawn of the upper way!
Strong hands that struck with his
From days that were to the day that is
Carry him now from the house of woe
To ride the way the Chief must go:
And his peers went mourning all the way.
Son and brother at his right hand
All the way, all the way!
And O for them and O for her
Who stayed within, the dowie day!
Son and brother and near of kin
Go out with the chief who never comes in!
And of all who loved him far and near
'Twas the nearest most who held him dear --
And his kin went mourning all the way!
The clan went on with the pipes before
All the way, all the way;
A wider clan than ever he knew
Followed him home that dowie day.
And who were they of the wider clan?
The landless man and the no man's man,
The man that lacked and the man unlearned,
The man that lived but as he earned --
And the clan went mourning all the way.
The heart of New Zealand went beside
All the way, all the way,
To the resting-place of her Highland Chief;
Much she thought she could not say;
He found her a land of many domains,
Maiden forest and fallow plains --
He left her a land of many homes,
The pearl of the world where the sea wind roams,
And New Zealand went mourning all the way.
poem by Jessie Mackay
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Funerals
I have been to large funerals,
even had to conduct one for a friend.
There are so many mourners that the pallbearers
have trouble turning the coffin around.
Then there have been others
where only a handful of people begrudgingly go.
My mother had one of those
and the paramount of difference shows.
Large ones are attended to say goodbye and display respect
for all that they had done for others in their lifetime.
The small ones are attended as a sign of closure
for what they did not do in their life.
Large ones have many sad
because they have to say to them their last goodbyes.
Small ones are rather sad
for either they held no respect
or their circle of real friends were very few.
22 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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Dialogus inter Vram & Skell, duos amnes Ripponam ambientes, & in parte oppidi orientali coeuntes, de morte celeberrimi viri, Ioh. Mallory, Equitis aurati
Vr.
Tell me, good Skell, from mirth to mourning cheer
What so hath chang'd thee, or what moves thy mind?
Hath any troubled late thy Waters cleer?
Or doth thy lovely Nymph now prove unkinde?
Sk.
Nor this, nor that: far greater Grief I knowe,
Which on my wofull Heart doth heavie lie.
Hast thou not heard the cause of common Woe;
The Funerall of famous Mallory?
Vr.
Is Mallory dead? O cruell Fates decree!
Could his great Worth obtaine then no Relief?
O Irow lawes of still-stern Destiny,
Ne'r satisfied with humane Woe and Grief!
Sk.
At his death, Nymphs in liquid Bowrs did weep;
And, shrieking out, did rent their greenish hair:
At his death, Wayling did all places keep:
Both Heaven, and Earth their mourning weeds did wear.
Vr.
Was this the cause wisen sweet sleep clos'd mine eyes
In my moss-matted roome, whiles Nymphs did sing,
That Storm-wingd Boreas, and the thundring Skies,
Me from my bed so suddenly did bring?
Sk.
Since both of Vs then Partners are in woe,
And neither from disastrous Chance are free,
Lets ioyne our streams, and both together goe:
So, that, which two-fold was, one Grief will be.
Vr.
Content: but, thus; that both together we
Doe run t'our Father Oceans larger coast:
Hee'l us imbrace in's glassie Hall; and he,
To ease our Grief, will play the gentle Hoast.
Sk.
May any thing more ioyfull me betide,
Than him to see that rules ith' watry Field?
Hee'l us receiue; and t'us, with weeping dry'd,
He for fresh tears salt waters still will yeeld.
poem by John Ashmore
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In 2001, Congress passed much needed tax relief to allow Americans to keep more of their hard earned money and spend it as they see fit - rather than how the federal government sees fit.
quote by Doc Hastings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm more interested in the meaning of funerals and the mourning that people do. It's not a retail experience. It's an existential one.
quote by Thomas Lynch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Cancer Today
The fight against disease called cancer is
On-going for so many years but still,
Not much relief is wrought from its death-kiss:
The diagnosis made when one is ill!
Research is done with big money inputs;
New drugs are patented without headway;
The developments come out with ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’!
Most cancers strike in relentless a way.
No cancer can be cured if found quite late;
Prevention is the only way to deal;
Despite progress in science, unchanged is fate
Of cancer-stricken men – what scientists feel!
Doing unwanted things, man/ woman lives;
‘Keep body pure’ – advice God’s Nature gives!
Dedicated to World Cancer Day 2012
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-2-2012
poem by John Celes
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Loss is sustained
Every loss gives me a grief.
What remains then gives me relief.
Relief thus encompasses the grief.
Every loss is well sustained.
09.07.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
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Death death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
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Death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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End Of The Journey
He was helpless
Lying
Unconscious
On the bed
His face pale
Eyes closed
Tubes inside the nose
Supplying oxygen
To Forcibly
Keep him alive
His frail body
Fighting against time
The moon and sun
The nice room
Had no meaning for him
Leaving behind
The money
He had earned
By all possible means
He was not even aware
That his life journey
Was about to end
All nears and dears
Were waiting
For his empty handed
Departure
From the world
Share the money
He leaves
14-01-2012
39-39-01-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Villanelle on a Proverb
The heart once broken is a heart no more.
—Edna St. Vincent Millay
The proverb says that time confers relief,
heals a crimson gash or knits whole a bone
and years unlock a knuckled fist of grief
that clenches emptiness in disbelief
to keep one's wits from being overthrown,
while time, the proverb says, confers relief
from cleaving wounds, paradoxical thief,
that also tears apart fused hearts grown
beyond the lock of knuckled-fisted grief
half-hearts collapsed empty in unbelief
at finalities beneath lids of stone,
while time, proverbially, confers relief
by bleaching wounds to scars—its chief
repair—but cannot heal a heart left alone
although the years unlock the fist of grief,
proclaiming the proverbial motif
that all wounds heal, time cannot atone
for vacancy. The proverb lies. Relief
unlocks a fist, but not the archived grief.
poem by William F Dougherty
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The Bell Rings
The bell rings through its own shadow.
Death knoll. Death knoll.
Reverberates and simulates the grief of eternity.
Valentine's love song chimes unheard in the ears of the pained.
They walk in stuffy, dry lines behind the moving pyre.
Why are they afraid to cry? Tradition dictates
Happiness.
They are moving to
The next world.
But no one laughs and coincidentally
No one cries
As the slow snake of despair slithers silently to the side of the stream.
The bell rings through its own shadow.
Death knoll. Death knoll.
Reverberates and simulates the grief of eternity.
Once a partnership expressed in words, now in emotion.
On this day we have opposites. The smoke rises from the bank
And every man has his head bowed. Every woman out of purile
RESPECT veils their face with mourning.
There
is
a
chain which is now broken.
There was love, there was a song,
Sung by the air, now full of smoke and flames,
Surged by the winds, now carrying her ashes
Now there is sadness and death.
The bell rings through its own shadow.
Death knoll. Death knoll.
Reverberates and simulates the grief of eternity.
The lotus trees dip over the side of the river where we used
To meet. There are two spaces on the grass were we sat.
They are empty now. The petals float away, carrying your memories
As the smoke in the air.
The bell rings through its own shadow.
Death knoll. Death knoll.
Reverberates and simulates the grief of eternity.
poem by Alex Sigston
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Funerals Are For The Living
funerals for family friends
to pay public last respects
to comfort living are funerals
poem by Terence George Craddock
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