A Crying Monk
Once there was a monk
with peaceful mind without junk.
At funeral, he usually preached,
pacifying the people with grief,
saying one would leave,
when one's life ceased,
crying and weeping was no need,
Buddha's teaching one must heed,
One's karma would lead
to either heaven or hell indeed.
One day, the monk's mother died sudden death.
He cried violently without catching the breath.
The funeral attendents consoled him,
to stop wailing and tear flowing.
He said it couldn't help,
he now experienced sorrow and grief by himself.
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When I Heard That You Died
I couldn’t bring myself to go to your funeral.
I couldn’t look at your lifeless body, because it wasn’t you.
It was an empty shell, the empty shell of my best friend.
I couldn’t look at your peaceful face without crying, and I had cried enough.
I cried a lifetimes worth of tears when I heard that you died.
So, I couldn’t bring myself to go to your funeral.
But I did go down to the river, remember?
Where we liked to play and relax when we were younger.
I went down to the river and threw a flower in the water.
I watched it get sucked under and dragged away, and I thought of you flying up to heaven.
A brief smile crossed my face, until the tears once again began to cloud my vision.
Happy you are safe, but sad to say goodbye.
So, it turns out, even though I couldn’t bring myself to go to your funeral,
The tears will come, and will always come when I think about this day.
The day when I heard that you died.
poem by Rachel Brewer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Funeral They Cried
At the funeral they cried,
So much sadness pouring out, it was a surprise
To know they’d hated her whilst she was still alive.
But so it goes, the bottled up years of grief given relief,
The pain of loss, that bollocking from the boss,
All those months of feeling cross
And times you had to lie,
All, all comes pouring out
In one long cry.
At the funeral they tried
To think of the woman who’d died,
But found they cried most easily
For themselves.
Coz they didnt care for me,
The woman that died.
poem by Charlotte Marie Peachey
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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On Another's Sorrow
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast;
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear;
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all;
He becomes an infant small;
He becomes a man of woe;
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O! He gives to us His joy
That our grief he may destroy;
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Night Funeral in Harlem
Night funeral
In Harlem:
Where did they get
Them two fine cars?
Insurance man, he did not pay--
His insurance lapsed the other day--
Yet they got a satin box
for his head to lay.
Night funeral
In Harlem:
Who was it sent
That wreath of flowers?
Them flowers came
from that poor boy's friends--
They'll want flowers, too,
When they meet their ends.
Night funeral
in Harlem:
Who preached that
Black boy to his grave?
Old preacher man
Preached that boy away--
Charged Five Dollars
His girl friend had to pay.
Night funeral
In Harlem:
When it was all over
And the lid shut on his head
and the organ had done played
and the last prayers been said
and six pallbearers
Carried him out for dead
And off down Lenox Avenue
That long black hearse done sped,
The street light
At his corner
Shined just like a tear--
That boy that they was mournin'
Was so dear, so dear
To them folks that brought the flowers,
To that girl who paid the preacher man--
It was all their tears that made
That poor boy's
Funeral grand.
Night funeral
In Harlem.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Electric Funeral
Reflex in the sky warn you you're gonna die
Storm coming, you'd better hide from the atomic tide
Flashes in the sky turns houses into sties
Turns people into clay, radiation minds decay
Robot minds of robot slaves lead them to atomic rage
plastic flowers, melting sun, fading moon falls upon
dying world of radiation, victims of mad frustration
Burning globe of oxy'n fire, like electric funeral pyre
Buildings crashing down to a cracking ground
Rivers turn to wood, ice melting to flood
Earth lies in death bed, clouds cry water dead
Tearing life away, here's the burning pay
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
And so in the sky shines the electric eye
supernatural king takes earth under his wing
Heaven's golden chorus sings, Hell's angels flap their wings
Evil souls fall to Hell, ever trapped in burning cells
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Electric Funeral
Reflex in the sky warn you you're gonna die
Storm coming, you'd better hide from the atomic tide
Flashes in the sky turns houses into sties
Turns people into clay, radiation minds decay
Robot minds of robot slaves
lead them to atomic rage
plastic flowers, melting sun,
fading moon falls upon
dying world of radiation,
victims of mad frustration
Burning globe of oxy'n fire,
like electric funeral pyre
Buildings crashing down to a cracking ground
Rivers turn to wood, ice melting to flood
Earth lies in death bed, clouds cry water dead
Tearing life away, here's the burning pay
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
And so in the sky shines the electric eye
supernatural king takes earth under his wing
Heaven's golden chorus sings,
Hell's angels flap their wings
Evil souls fall to Hell, ever trapped in burning cells!
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Our Funeral
Have you been to a funeral yet, after The Lord you have met?
A special funeral for all of us, who have come to Christ Jesus,
A funeral of your independence, as your heart, to God relents,
When indeed, you die to self, now alive in The Savior’s wealth.
Even though we died, we live, so now our life to God we give,
Earthly desires are all we lose, in accepting God’s good news,
Thus being saved by Jesus Christ, we give Him our earthly life,
Since He died for us at Calvary, to let our captive heart go free.
So believers are now free to die, for Jesus who reigns on high,
Yes free to die to our old ways, as we live out our earthly days,
Living without what we don’t need, as God’s Word we do heed,
While living for a future friend, which when it comes has no end.
The life with God, we now begin, guides us away from dark sin,
We die to sin so we can start, a brand new life with a new heart,
A new heart which now is purified, by the One, Who for us died,
Christ died to cleanse you and me, all with His blood at Calvary.
At this funeral that you attend, it’s just a beginning, not the end,
As you begin life brand new, with The Lord, to see you through,
With The Savior by your side, for He now lives, though He died,
With death swallowed up in victory, believers shall live Eternally.
Hope in Heaven's Day
Grief be mine, I ask you so,
If not for you, I wouldn't know,
How life once was and then be still,
How so precious, that death do steal.
Because that grief, won't go away,
Learn to let it have its way.
The link to love, a precious one,
Is met with grief and still not done.
The days do come, and nights do go,
Grief will stay as time is so.
And so a loved one passes on,
And grief comes in and carries on.
Does grief get better, I will ask,
It's hard to say, while at its task.
There is grief to help us cope,
There is God to give us hope.
Grief will surely go away,
On that glorious heaven's day.
But while its here, there's just one thing,
Pray our Lord, for peace he'll bring.
poem by Arlene Dery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dem Bones!
My Husband's Grandmother,
who had reached the grand old age of 98 years,
died one 23rd of December,
and as her funeral couldn't be organised
until the 6th of January, the following year,
her Son asked the Funeral Director,
to explain what was happening to his Mother
over the Christmas period.
The Funeral Director in his severe black suit,
with a face even more severe,
placed a hand on the Son's shoulder, and said,
'Don't you worry, Mr Taylor,
we have a Skeleton Staff in over Christmas'.
This is a true story, but we found it to be so hilarious.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Alchemist
I burned my life, that I might find
A passion wholly of the mind,
Thought divorced from eye and bone,
Ecstasy come to breath alone.
I broke my life, to seek relief
From the flawed light of love and grief.
With mounting beat the utter fire
Charred existence and desire.
It died low, ceased its sudden thresh.
I had found unmysterious flesh --
Not the mind's avid substance -- still
Passionate beyond the will.
poem by Louise Bogan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Demised Creature
So far beneath the surface
The coffin surrounding
Air slowly escaping
Mouth going dry
Eyes glazing over
The dream feels surreal
Crying out so loud
No one hears a thing
Ignoring her every scream
Blood in her veins slow
Skin peals from her pink cheeks
They were the death of her
Where have you been?
Your late to my funeral
How could you?
When you put me in this coffin
My life was nothing
Not even a tear of remorse
You broke me down
Brought me back as a creature
heartless, soulless, breathless
Then my existence was ripped
Just kill me, put me out
My flame has already died
Where have you been?
Your late to my funeral
How could you?
When you put me in this coffin
poem by Jennifer Ottinger
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Monk And Mother
One who devoids himself from worldly life
Always engaged in the pursuit of noble divine
By changing the curtain of reality to the heaven
Eager to wash away all the memories of grief
Makes you smile by taking you away for a brief
Goes away as a speedy flash unattached, is a Monk
The one who makes the weeping child smile
By supporting its balanced growth when it is fragile
Initiates the child to live with the spirits of Divine
But always binds the child with both- earth and heaven
Smiles with the child, cries with the child and always dearer
Closer, Trust-worthy, ever devoted to stand as a shade attached is Mother!
poem by Rekha Sathya
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To Meet Again
Your mother died
a peaceful death
no heart attack
no fight
for breath
no death rattle
into the night
just a sudden
departure
like a switched out light
all her long life
concluding in this
a gentle going
death's soft kiss
a daughter
at her mother's
bedside
holding her hand
her dementia
needed Teddy
held there
at the end
your mother
died suddenly
to an unexpected
sleep and rest
all worries
and anxieties
gone away
all hoping
and believing
to meet again
some day.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Interment
Funeral.
A young man died in his sleep he was 49 years old, with my aged eyes
he was boy too young to die. I don't know the medical reason for his
early demise, think it has to do with burst blood vessel in the brain.
I went to his funeral last Sunday it was a sunny noon and thought at
least heavens could have cried. I didn't know him, but had hoped to
meet his sister, whom I adore, telling how sorry I was for her loss; but
the whole family was there in common grief, I wouldn't intrude in their
unhappiness. I spoke to a friend of hers and asked her to extend my
concern, I wanted her to know that I had been there to show respect
and that I cared. But could not escape the gnaw of guilt in my heart,
hadn't it been for her I might not have attended.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Funeral Weather
Walking in the rain
Catching the raindrops
As we laughed in love
Was fun with you, gentle you
But now the dark clouds
Bringing storm and rain
Terrify me
Real funeral weather
As it is today
Pitter patter, pitter patter
The winds have howled and gone
Taking you along
I remember the day you went away
The sky cried tears
Day was dark as night
When the gods took you away
I was alone,
Alone, alone, alone
Crying in the rain
Funeral weather
--
poem by Narcissus Starlight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Aunt's Murder
She was a gentle elderly lady
Who was always helping everyone, not shady
She tended to the sick and gave to the poor
She loved all so much, she was so pure
She had a cat, she loved so much
That was always in her lap, in her clutch
She left the garage door, cracked opened each day
She never worried about being another's prey
One day on the couch, she sat reading a book
When in her garage door entered a crook
She screamed and she cried, 'What are you doing here? '
He grabbed her by the throat and she was in great fear
He stayed and tortured her for so many hours
She was so overcome by his strenght and powers
I feel great sorrow as I write this story
Her murder was mother's day, much to his glory
I was at her trial, November of last year
And since her death, I've shed many a tear
He sat there glaring at us so proud
The picture's we saw, shouldn't have been allowed
I felt rage and grief and stared back at him
I hoped his outcome would be real grim
He said he was guilty when the judge asked how he pled
It took four days for the verdict to be read
I held my breath, while I awaited the sentence
I knew death should have been his pentence
The jury, they couldn't come to decision
The judge decided it would be life in prison
In Texas, that's not a long sentence to pay
You can get out in forty years, not another day
It was capitol murder and he should have got death
I will see he stay's in prison, till I take my last breath
The picture's that they showed, are etched in my mind
This animal shouldn't live among mankind
She is in heaven now, living with my mother
At least once more, they have one another!
poem by Donna Nimmo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I’ve Lost One Verse With Tinkling Lines
I’ve lost one verse
With tinkling lines,
I’ve lost a verse,
It’s somewhere else…
I sought the leaf,
But couldn’t find,
Even from the disc
It vanished.
I cried and cried
For that little verse,
In my soul it lay
Like a winged word,
It lay there
Like grief and anguish.
That bright and sincere thought –
That verse remained in the past.
I’m tired of grief and sorrow,
Sorrow has seized me at last…
24.04.2006
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What old sadness can I let go of by sharing it today
How can we measure the grief we feel and and how we could put up with it. Doesn't the grief of death weight a ton or more. Doesn't it strenth out to a month a year or still longer. Is the grief of failture lighter then then the grief of empyness. Wheather we try to ingore or make light of it our grief like a ton of feathers or a ton of rocks is all the same to us. This much is sure if we lock our grief it will weight more on us. Andlengthen out if we open our hearts with weeping and words others will help carry it away. written and Posted 1/1/10
poem by Susie Sunshine
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The Bad Monk
On the great walls of ancient cloisters were nailed
Murals displaying Truth the saint,
Whose effect, reheating the pious entrails
Brought to an austere chill a warming paint.
In the times when Christ was seeded around,
More than one illustrious monk, today unknown
Took for a studio the funeral grounds
And glorified Death as the one way shown.
—My soul is a tomb, an empty confine
Since eternity I scour and I reside;
Nothing hangs on the walls of this hideous sty.
O lazy monk! When will I see
The living spectacle of my misery,
The work of my hands and the love of my eyes?
Translated by William A. Sigler
Submitted by Ryan McGuire
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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