Away With Funeral Music
AWAY with funeral music - set
The pipe to powerful lips -
The cup of life's for him that drinks
And not for him that sips.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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The Piper
AGAIN I hear you piping, for I know the tune so well, -
You rouse the heart to wander and be free,
Tho' where you learned your music, not the God of song can tell,
For you pipe the open highway and the sea.
O piper, lightly footing, lightly piping on your way,
Tho' your music thrills and pierces far and near,
I tell you you had better pipe to someone else to-day,
For you cannot pipe my fancy from my dear.
You sound the note of travel through the hamlet and the town;
You would lure the holy angels from on high;
And not a man can hear you, but he throws the hammer down
And is off to see the countries ere he die.
But now no more I wander, now unchanging here I stay;
By my love, you find me safely sitting here:
And pipe you ne'er so sweetly, till you pipe the hills away,
You can never pipe my fancy from my dear.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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A Burning
It all tastes like funeral ash to me;
exquisite feast set out in banquet hall.
Tonguing down the bile, a bitter dark sea,
A casket'ed table for bearers pall.
It was a long time coming, we sigh sips.
Now we gather 'round plates of dust
Scooping the dry mulch between our lips,
as our gray eyes flicker off the rust.
From a distance the feast looked amazing,
Staring through the cherry-stained estate glass.
And we rammed against hall doors, complaining
of the plundered spectral treasure amassed.
So we say Grace at the table of ash.
Our stolen jewels worn like funeral sash.
poem by Aurin Squire
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Rubaiyat 28
Don’t let go of the cup’s lips
Till you receive your worldly tips.
Bittersweet is the world’s cup
From lover’s lips and the cup sips.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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The Funeral Bell
The funeral bell is ringing a reminder of our mortality
Farewelling a deceased soul one day 'twill ring for me
Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day
Across the rural city in the morning damp and gray.
The funeral bell is pealing for one a last farewell
And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell
Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky
For one bound for her or his last resting place the cemetery nearby.
The peewees in the town park distinctive in their call
And the magpie on a wattle pipe on this cool morning in the Fall
And for one who will not breathe again the eulogy is read
And the funeral bell is tolling in memory of the dead.
The funeral bell is ringing for one a last goodbye
And on the clock of our mortality the hours just seem to fly
Respect to the departed is all that we can pay
And for each and everyone of us a final night and day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Music is...
Music is...
Music is expression...
Music is freedom...
Music is the song of life...
Music is notes...
Music is noise...
Music is beat...
Music is relaxing...
Music is peace...
Music is loud...
Music is calm...
Music is meaningful...
Music is sound...
Music is heart...
Music is soul...
Music is mind...
Music is body...
Music is nature...
Music is language...
Music is the song of my life...
Music is everything...
Music is me...
Music is....
poem by Madeline anderson
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Who is dirtied?
When a man sips more than a cup,
polluted are not his own lips.
When a cup is sipped by many lips,
stained is the very cup.
In adultery, a woman is a cup.
She slips from the moral grip.
Patriarchy’s endorsement.
21.12.2000, Bbsr
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Broken Love Song
Sitting, sitting, waiting for the music to stop
The music plays over and over again
My eyes wander, my sight blurred
My mouth lets out whispers and sighs
The song plays all over again; in circles
Tears, wait a minute...tears?
Tears flow down my cheek
The sound of misery has been playing
Playing in full circles, let it stop
I won't let it stop even if it hurts
The words that I murmur, I whisper softly
He left me; he left me behind
The music breaks me down into pieces
I grieve as I see myself dead in the funeral
I didn't die in the funeral, I died here
My lips part and gave way to smoke
Clouds of mist form before my eyes
The images are distorted, it is blurred
By salty waters that rush down my cheek
I could not hear the music anymore
He left me by this chair
He left me and made me hear this music
Broken as it played in circles
I hear my heart stops its own music
The tears in my eyes sympathize
poem by A.B. Black Waltz
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All Alone.
All alone except for
The dame sitting across
The way drinking coffee
Her lips ready to sip her
Hands holding the cup
Her finger looped through
The handle and she closes
Her eyes as she sips and
You notice how the lips part
And how the raised cup touches
The softness of her and you
Watch and imagine the lips are
Touching yours and she is
Emptying you of all your juices
And swallowing you up and
Draining you away just like the
Contents of the cappuccino cup.
poem by Terry Collett
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Syrinx
Pan's Syrinx was a girl indeed,
Though now she's turned into a reed;
From that dear reed Pan's pipe does come,
A pipe that strikes Apollo dumb;
Nor flute, nor lute, nor gittern can
So chant it as the pipe of Pan:
Cross-gartered swains and dairy girls,
With faces smug and round as pearls,
When Pan's shrill pipe begins to play,
With dancing wear out night and day;
The bagpipe's drone his hum lays by,
When Pan sounds up his minstrelsy;
His minstrelsy! O base! this quill,
Which at my mouth with wind I fill,
Puts me in mind, though her I miss,
That still my Syrinx' lips I kiss.
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
Metamorphosis Catalyzed
Conformist habits meet metamorphosis
at dawn when night stars pale,
or enhaling dunes on seashore.
Contrasts holoistic encourage divorce
between who sips, who drinks
Pierian spring catalyzing source search.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Music Is Life
Music is life
Music is love
Music is joyful
Music is peaceful
Music is a journal
Music has feelings
Music has emotion
Music tells stories
Music is unpredictable
Music is exciting
Music holds memories
Music is life
poem by Person You Don't Know
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Hollywood
Orange and yellow and purple and green
The lights of the city at night set the scene
Stumble through the bars of forget-me-not lane
Sparkle through the glitter but dont show the pain
In hollywood
Underneath a golden palm tree
Hollywood
Come to the party the drinks are on me
For free
Heartbeats echo through a cavern of love
Come to the tavern Ill meet you up above
Soaring through the heavens, what a fabulous ride
But everybodys heading for the same place to hide
In hollywood
Underneath a golden palm tree
Hollywood
Come to the party the drinks are on me
For free
The drinks on me
For free
The drinks on me
For free
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
The drinks on me
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Music
I hear the music
The music is playing
The music is soft
The music is now fading
The music is gone
Which means so is my life
No music means no life
The music is gone
Come back to me music
The Music is begining
I have a life
The music is pretty
The Music is wonderful
Oh no
The music is fading again
I love the music
The music is gone
Good bye music
poem by Kathryn Thompson
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Love is Music
Love is like music……
But…….
Music is not like love….
So what about it…
Does it effect us…
Who is more powerful….
Love or Music…
Love, Music, Love, Music…..
How to choose them..
It is quiet hard…
God Al-mighty, please…
Help me to make decision…
What is my decision….
Is it love or music….
Love is important….
So is music…
Love is priceless….
But music is always in my heart….
Love….
Music….
It seems that we cannot choose….
We have no choice..
So let it be…
Lets god decide it…
Is god will...
So wait for it….
poem by Rashid Iskandar
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How Can You
How can you
Be with somebody else.
When all I have is a ghost in my house.
How can you
Sit at the table
And serve him
His favourite meal.
Do jigsaws and crosswords when able.
Now I can't even learn how to feel.
He steals your lips
From me.
Contentedly sips your tea.
And holds you through the night.
How can you
Now I'm out of sight.
Do you cry
To music with him.
And laugh at movies we favoured.
Does he
Keep his body in trim.
Is his breath
Always fresh mint flavoured.
Does he
Show you more affection.
Swing more in your direction.
Are his manners
Impeccable and slick.
How can you.
You make me sick.
poem by Kevin East
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By Yascel Music
The Music
I hear the music
The music is playing
The music is soft
The music is now fading
The music is gone
Which means so is my life
No music means no life
The music is gone
Come back to me music
The Music is begining
I have a life
The music is pretty
The Music is wonderful
Oh no
The music is fading again
I love the music
The music is gone
poem by Yascel Rodriguez
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Music.... My LLife
I hear the music
The music is playing
The music is soft
The music is now fading
The music is gone..! !
Which means so is my life
No music means no life
The music is gone
So on and gone...! !
Come back to me
My Music.....
The beginning of life
The pretty music
The wonderful Music..! !
Oh no...
What Do i see..
The music is fading again
I love the music
The music is gone
Good bye music
poem by Vishnu Gupta
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All i got to my name.
All I got to my name,
Is my music
It's all i ever am
and all i will be
you can't take it away
it's all i got to my name
My music is my life
my music is my love
my music is my fire on a cold day
my music is my castle where i stay all the day
my music is home
where i feel safe
It's all I got to my name
don't you dare take it away
it's what makes me me and not you
My music is my best friend
my music is my nae
it's all I own that matters to me
My music is all i got to my name
no family
no friends
all i need is my music
I need nothing but my music
it's what I do all the day
all I can say
My music My music
all i got to my name...
poem by Alice Lion
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Benedictine
The Benedictine scents and stains
the languor of your pallid lips;
My kiss shall be a bee that sips
A fainting roseleaf flushed with rains.
I thirst, and yet my thirst increases
With draining deep and deeper kisses;
The odour of your breath releases
Desires that dream of deeper blisses.
And on my lips your lips now pressed
Cling moist and close; your lips begin
Devouringly to gather in
Your kisses that my lips possessed.
The odour of your breath releases
Wafts of intoxicating blisses;
Yet still my thirst of you increases,
I think beneath your thirsty kisses.
No kisses more, this perilous day,
Or tempting, tempt me not in vain:
This day I dare not taste again
Your lips that suck my soul away!
poem by Arthur Symons
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