Bedside Viduals For Who?
bedside given viduals
for dead or dying
which comforts most?
deathwatch by windows
love watch by night
with a final kiss good night
in order to help
beloved deceased
you must raise
your deceased
from death
soul delivered
funerals for family friends
to pay public last respects
funerals are for the living
their shaking hands
oft in darkness held
in fear solemn viduals
love for the living
still life possibilities clinging
dead feel nothing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Death Chance Final Curtain
love for the living
still life possibilities clinging
dead feel nothing
Splitting image from the poem ‘Bedside Viduals For Who? ' by Terence George Craddock.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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The dead citizen
A man went to get his identity document
and for a passport at the same time
and was found by the Department of Home Affairs
to be dead and buried
and they did not care that he was still living
and instead declared him deceased and past away
His accounts at the bank were frozen
as part of the estate
of a person deceased
and he couldn’t leave the country
or renew his driver’s license
and draw any money
and he was declared to be deceased and past away.
He went to the head office
of that great State Department
and declared his problem with them
and they were amused
that the dead citizen
had risen again,
but he was still a living man
with substance and form
and not a ghost
that had stepped from the grave
and he was declared to be deceased and past away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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No Greater Loyalty
This will be our family secret don't tell others how he died
Never mention how my darling son took his own life in suicide
Don't want them saying he opted out of life they would never understand
How our beloved teenager he died at his own hand.
Don't tell anyone we found him hanging from the low branch of a tree
Tell them 'twas of a heart attack that he died suddenly
We do not need their judgements my son must rest in peace
It was of his own choosing that from life he choose release.
Of the darkness that surrounded him we never were to know
The mother she has shed her tears for her son who died six months ago
For to save him from the judgements of the living for her dead son she will lie
She will never admit that he was one who choose his own way to die.
No greater loyalty than the loyalty of a mother when all is said and done
From the judgements of the living she lies to protect her dead son
She takes flowers twice a week to place on the grave where he does lay
And she will grieve for her deceased son till her own dying day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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How Does A Relationship End? ....
in Siayan the woman who broke up with her man
ended up dead,
he rationalized that if he could not own her
let no one can
the parents mourn for the death of their baby
whom
not a fly had ever landed on her skin
on his part
his life has no meaning anymore
he has become
the living dead and then with one fatal shot in his head
he exploded
death
there are two coffins in the neighborhood
two funerals
many mourners
ten lamentations
on a tongue in cheek
one of those who gambled on those wake nights asked
all in the name of Love?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Are Alive In The Moment Of Death
We are the nocturnal nightmares of fear induced
We are fear by which hope is reduced
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game
We are as children hung from a rope
We are as children in fear of lost hope
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the silence of all that is night
We are the shadows scared of the light
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the killers of true passion in love
We are the angels of Hell’s mansion above
We are the wings upon which devils may fly
We are the fear and the tears that you cry
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the moon as we are the sun
We are the end and the story begun
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the children who beat you at school
We are the teachers that deem you a fool
We are the rotting as we are the fresh
We are alive in the moment of death.
poem by David Lacey
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Ancient Holy Words Console The Living
Beautiful words holy compassion,
funerals are not just for the dead,
they are also to help and console
the living in family formal respect.
To aid to support the living who must
live carry on continue in community.
Heartfelt words console, rich memories,
time helps heal hearts which give love.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Asleep
Sound asleep in a Eugene O'Neil play
Who shall melt the thick ice?
We all run for the shadows and hide
The day reveals device and bondage
Trinkets, ideologies, sordid idols
Raise your glass high to the trivial
Hamlet in forlorn trials of being
Define your mask without soul
Meaning becomes a hollow corner
Shall we wake the drunken actors?
They know of their coming death
Let them laugh, boast and dance
Let the dead bury the dead
I know what is in man
Can't you watch with me one hour?
Two friends dead from alcoholism
Sad funerals of cunning despair
Free will the paradox of love
She walks the dark side of the city
He stands in the fog with black wings
Sirens blast through the smog
Tonight it is cold and evil
Beauty seems covered in clouds
The whole world seems very tired
Dream away your broken life's
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Love Respects
Love respects everyone always,
Love respects everyone's way of life,
Everyone's way of living needs respect,
Love respects everyone always :)
Love respects everyone's opinions,
Love helps us understand everyone's choices,
Respecting everyone's choices encourages understanding,
Love respects everyone's opinions :)
Love respects our needs and desires,
Love knows our needs include respect,
Our desires need respect to be understood,
Love respects our needs and desires :)
Love respects family always,
Love understands a families' influence,
Our parents' decisions need respect,
Love respects family always :)
poem by Paul Jensen Jr
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Fear
Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
Fear of psychological profiles.
Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
Fear of my children's handwriting on envelopes.
Fear they'll die before I do, and I'll feel guilty.
Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
Fear of confusion.
Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.
Fear of waking up to find you gone.
Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
Fear of death.
Fear of living too long.
Fear of death.
I've said that.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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Death
Today I hear
my cousin dead
of cancer...
she was a little darling
to me and the family
but dead
now
I think of my death
like I did
back in 1998
if it's going to approach me
sooner or later
My old friend is dead
of liver cancer
people are dying around us
where would they go
after they die?
This was the most important question
that I have had since young
looking at the tombs on the mount slopes
I kept crying all evening and the night through
the fear of death took me over
and wouldn't let go of me
so every evening when the sun went down
I began crying
in fear of darkness
which meant no light
utter gloomy pitchy dark nights
that haunted me since young age
but now my friends are dying away
family members are leaving me
only to ponder on death
this night
some say death arrives in everybody's door
but not me
for I didn't know where I would be going
when I die
and there came Jesus the Savior
who proclaimed life eternal
the life after death
so I am rescued from this hell-bound
direction to go down to the dark grave
alone with no body to keep company for me
then I am a Christian and have life eternal
but still I fear death
like I did when I was a young kid
crying every evening after the sun went down
now I fear death approaching me
and I feel weary after a long
life journey I took
over the years
with no children to care for me
no husband to look after me
I see grey hair keep showing up and
hear people say,
'Why don't you dye your hair? '
Yes that was exactly how I felt
in 1998 when I was 39
and now I go back to that time
and ponder on this subject death.
If I die what will happen to all
that I might not know
but would like to stay around a bit
longer to see life events of the world
but people keep dying and disappearing
from this planet...
now I might have to prepare for that
too, in case I face death
suddenly it arrives
and kisses you sweet and
takes you away from this planet
then....What would you do
Maybe end up in heaven with Christ around
or end up in hell burning in sulfur fire
no matter what I say or do
death approaches gradually and
takes you by the hand and leads you
to its own destination
Should we go along with it
or should we fight against it
and strive to survive a bit longer
Only if I had a companion
he would be able to make things better
to rejoice over life and living
This man in my life who showed up
and transformed me completely
is still staying around me
showing off his charms and scents
I wish he is the new candle light
that will rekindle my doomed destiny
Now that People are dying away
and I also am preparing for my last day
and this new dawn brightens up my life
so it's God's grace to shine upon my life
by sending this little angelic hand
to assist me to live and love again
God bless his soul!
I figure he will stay around for quite a while
which is a great news
at this time of my life
for me
Thank God for looking over my life
and me
as always...
You have been a great Help.
02: 56 AM
(November 16,2012) Korea-Japan time
poem by Sangnam Nam
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White Funeral
sitting alone with nowhere to go
ignoring the static from the radio
that interrupts my favorite song
haven’t loved it in so long
some say love is a foolish thing
and although not in all cases
i can’t help but agree
with the smarter majority
so many weddings
just white funerals
a hand to hold
for the rest of her life
open to the bliss
and the carelessness
be careful, more careful
does it still feel right
i’ll apologize in all the places
where i frowned at all the smiling faces
i just wonder if that will be me
with a wedding dress and a history
so much thought in an august moment
i’m living in my favorite season
but winter’s here, and taking control
as we let the rest of our days unfold
so many weddings
just white funerals
someone she barely knows
becomes her life
open to neglect
and disrespect
that comes with the one
she loved last night
i think of someone i know
better than anyone
i think i’ll be more optomistic
when this is done
can’t help but to think
that my white funeral
won’t be a funeral at all
because i know him
she doesn’t know him
so many weddings
just white funerals
but i’m so glad
that won’t be mine
open to his
fuffilled promises
he knows who i am
we’ll be fine
the white funeral is over
the bride’s been burried
in her own mistake
poem by Jade Leven
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We Need Fear For Survival
Of valour on the battlefield and in other ways we hear
But only the most foolhardy one would never know of fear
We need fear for survival may they rest in peace the brave
Their reward for their bravery the cold and darkness of the grave.
We need fear for survival the very brave are dead
And little use to them 'twould seem if good things of them are said
We need a bit of fear in us in order to stay alive
Few of the brave to a ripe old age have been known to survive.
I'd rather live to a ripe old age than have died young and brave
We need a bit of fear in us for to keep cheating the grave
Why would you even wish to die though your better days are long gone
Our will to live is always strong and it keeps us keeping on.
The fear of death is a healthy fear the brave seem to die young
Though of no use to the deceased if their praises are sung
In their graves they do never hear the bugler for them play
They lay in peace forever more that's life as some might say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Where Does It Go?
As I watch the
Night Sky
I think of you.
The one I grew
Up with,
The one I always
Talked to,
The one I never left.
I watched the sky
On theanniversary
Of you death.
I feel that in times
Nature atunes to
Our emotions.
I watched the
Night sky.
Your death
Was so abrupt
Everyone was
Shocked.
I watch the
Night sky
As all the
Stars cry.
I stand over the
Grave marked as mine.
The sky bleeds
It's crystal
Tears.
Dead in the winter
A death had
Occured,
People cry for
The lost,
They cry for
The pain.
Now they weep
For my soul
For it is lost.
I can't join
The dead for
It wasn't my
Time, but
I can't be
Alive for my
Body is dead.
I'm lost between
Worlds.
I want to
Sleep.
As I stand over the
Grave marked as mine.
The night of the anniversary
Replays every year.
When I return to the
Scene where I wept
Crimson tears
Every night of the anniversary
The story replays,
But no living soul
Can see it.
Wrong conclusions
Drawn by human thoughts
And yet if they could
See what I do,
Then all will be
Explained
As the night of the anniversary
Replays every year.
As I watch the
Night sky
And all the stars
Cry,
As I stand over the
Grave marked as mine,
The night of the anniversary
Replays every year.
I live on.
poem by Sans Serif
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The Divine Lover
I
Me Lord? can’st thou mispend
One word, misplace one look on me?
Call’st me thy Love, thy Friend?
Can this poor soul the object be
Of these love-glances, those life-kindling eyes?
What? I the Centre of thy arms embraces?
Of all thy labour I the prize?
Love never mocks, Truth never lies.
Oh how I quake: Hope fear, fear hope displaces:
I would, but cannot hope: such wondrous love amazes.
II
See, I am black as night,
See I am darkness: dark as hell.
Lord thou more fair than light;
Heav’ns Sun thy Shadow; can Sunns dwell
With Shades? ’twixt light, and darkness what commerce?
True: thou art darkness, I thy Light: my ray
Thy mists, and hellish foggs shall pierce.
With me, black soul, with me converse.
I make the foul December flowry May,
Turn thou thy night to me: I’le turn thy night to day.
III
See Lord, see I am dead:
Tomb’d in my self: my self my grave
A drudge: so born, so bred:
My self even to my self a slave.
Thou Freedom, Life: can Life, and Liberty
Love bondage, death? Thy Freedom I: I tyed
To loose thy bonds: be bound to me:
My Yoke shall ease, my bonds shall free.
Dead soul, thy Spring of life, my dying side:
There dye with me to live: to live in thee I dyed.
poem by Phineas Fletcher
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A PÆan
How shall the burial rite be read?
The solemn song be sung ?
The requiem for the loveliest dead,
That ever died so young?
II.
Her friends are gazing on her,
And on her gaudy bier,
And weep ! - oh! to dishonor
Dead beauty with a tear!
III.
They loved her for her wealth -
And they hated her for her pride -
But she grew in feeble health,
And they love her - that she died.
IV.
They tell me (while they speak
Of her 'costly broider'd pall')
That my voice is growing weak -
That I should not sing at all -
V.
Or that my tone should be
Tun'd to such solemn song
So mournfully - so mournfully,
That the dead may feel no wrong.
VI.
But she is gone above,
With young Hope at her side,
And I am drunk with love
Of the dead, who is my bride. -
VII.
Of the dead - dead who lies
All perfum'd there,
With the death upon her eyes,
And the life upon her hair.
VIII.
Thus on the coffin loud and long
I strike - the murmur sent
Through the grey chambers to my song,
Shall be the accompaniment.
IX.
Thou died'st in thy life's June -
But thou did'st not die too fair:
Thou did'st not die too soon,
Nor with too calm an air.
X.
From more than fiends on earth,
Thy life and love are riven,
To join the untainted mirth
Of more than thrones in heaven -
XII.
Therefore, to thee this night
I will no requiem raise,
But waft thee on thy flight,
With a Pæan of old days.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Don't Want to Be
I don't want to wait until I'm dead
to tell people I love them.
Don't want to be deceased
then open up an see
me
and things I have done wrong.
Don't want no death bed scenes
and teary eyed I'm sorrys.
Don't want to be stupid about
the little things
like walking away
from a fight.
Don't want to have to twist myself
all out of shape to convince myself
I'm right.
Don't want to ever learn to enjoy
someone's else's pain.
Don't want to kiss evil on the mouth.
Don't want to be dead.
Don't want to think
that I just might be
too late.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Death
He, born of my girlhood, is dead, while my life is yet young in my heart
Ere the breasts where his baby lips fed have forgotten their softness, we part.
We part. He was mine, he was here, though he travelled by land and by sea,
My son who could trample on fear, my babe who was moulded in me.
As I sat in the darkness, it seemed I could still feel his touch on my head;
He came in the night as I dreamed, and he knelt at the side of my bed;
He murmured the words I had taught when his lips were the lips of a child,
Ere the strength of his arm had been bought and the love that upheld him defiled;
Then my faltering spirit grew bold, and my heart had forgotten its drouth,
And I crooned little songs as of old, till I woke at his kiss on my mouth.
Now waking and sleeping are pain. Nevermore will he kiss, nevermore
Shall I hear his low whistle again at the gate, or his step on the floor,
For to-night he was here while I slept, and this is the end of it all.
Now that welter of darkness has swept us apart, can he come if I call?
Can he come, little chap with the eyes that brought light out of heaven to earth?
Can he come, though the soul of me cries for the joy that I bought by his birth?
I can see but the horror that bids the heart of the mother despair,
The vision that burns on my lids, the face that will always be there,
For he holds out his hands to me, red, and his eyes tell the truth as he stands.
He is dead. He is dead. He is dead. He is dead, with the blood on his hands.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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When I'm Dead And Gone
When I'm dead and gone
At my funeral don't play another sad song
I wanna see tears of joy not of sorrow
Remember this day for it will be gone tomorrow
I want people to celebrate my death day
The same way they celebrated my birthday
Remember the good things I've done in my life, and forget the bad
Remember our love, cause at times that's all we had
When I'm dead and gone, who would really miss me?
I would hope that the memory of me make people happy
I'd like to say I'm sorry to all those I've done wrong
And thanks to all who showed me love my whole life long
I have to get these feelings out before I'm dead and gone
Same may wonder why I'm doing this poem
Maybe I feel like my life is reaching its final storm
I rather say this right now right here
Cause later I may not be able to say nothing I fear
No I'm not ready to meet death.
But I rather for you to know now,
Then when I'm dead and gone to be thinking something else.
poem by Daniel Chapman
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Vain Death
ALL the first night she might not weep
But watched till morning came,
And when she slept at dawn, she heard
The dead man call her name.
The second night she watched and wept
And called on death for grace,
And when she slept before the dawn
She saw the dead man’s face.
The third night through she laughed as one
That knows her way to bliss,
And in the instant ere she slept
She felt the dead man’s kiss.
She rose and faced the flickering fire
(And oh, but she was fair!),
Like a wild witch behind her danced
The shadow of her hair.
She took her penknife from its sheath,
The tender blade she kissed,
And by the firelight’s dying leap
She bared her little wrist.
And where the vein ran large and blue
She cut, once and again,
Yet ere she swooned from life, she knew
Her death had been in vain.
For while life thundered in her ears,
Ere yet her pulse might fail,
Far off across the kindless night
She heard the dead man’s wail,
And knew her doom was one with theirs
That kill the life God gave,
And that she might not leave this earth
Her soul alive to save,
But ay must dwell within that house
As in a living grave,
While he for whom she died might ne’er
Win to her in that place,
But must for ever make his moan
Ranging in agony alone
The trackless void of space
poem by Archibald Thomas Strong
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