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
Related quotes
Soldier Dad
Sadness in my everyday life,
knowing he wont come back.
Off to save the world,
he is such a hero.
Ma and me at home
looking at old pictures
of us together.
We looked so happy like a
perfect family that never has any problems,
all of us sitting together with a big smile
on our faces, with dorky outfits on.
A shotgun blows in the distance
with a pile of smoke in the air.
The bullets dropping on the ground
over coming the gun fire.
My dad is holding the shotgun
shooting another man for his country.
Protecting us and the world
from evil.
With a smile on his face
puts a smile on mine.
He wrote us a letter to let us know he loves
me and ma very much and that he has great news
he is coming home soon; he will be on leave for
two weeks.-
Tomorrow my daddy is
coming home. I’m so happy.-
Knock on the door,
There’s a bunch of army people here.
Carrying my daddies belongings,
they tell us my dad is dead-
my ma drops to the floor
crying her eyes out.-
Today’s my daddies’ funeral,
thousands of people attended
seeing my dad in a coffin for the first
time in months and he’s
dead-
Sadness and pain is in my families’ everyday life.
poem by Chantel Braatz
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
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 letter to My Dad
Dad it's been twenty years,
since you have been gone now
when ever I think of you
the thought, brings tears
There's so much to tell
you, I don't know where to begin
two months, after you died
we had a son, he's so big now, I'm in a spell
I wanted for you, to meet my wife,
in a way you did, only at your funeral,
by then, it was to late
strangers were we, but never any strife
Between us, there was no hate or any love
many wasted words had we
I would like to mention, we have a daughter,
and she's sweet as a dove
Remeber the day, that you gave me old shep
he was a very fine dog
for a long time, I had him
for many years, he had a lot of pep
After nine years, he died too,
seems like ever thing I love
dies sooner or later
and that makes me feel, very blue
You don't realize, how much you love
some one, until their gone,
and then they
fly away like a dove
Toward the end, we had some good talks
you told me many things i didn't know
at your farm, on our many walks
You told me how you played ball,
it must have been something,
to have played back then
my son, dad like you is very tall
I have a very happy life
dad, I wish you could meet
my son and daughter,
also my wife
Dad, it's to bad, I didn't know you better,
too many years were wasted
and I should have told you, I love you,
so that's the reason, for this letter
written June 18,1990 In Memory of my dad Elmer W. Foulk
Born September 13,1904 Died October 10,1970
D e a t h
Well we don’t know do we?
You asked me to write something
about it and I said,
I have nothing to say…
maybe that’s a better place to start.
So should we keep a curtained silence
about it? Stuff cottonwool in that wound
that never quite heals, once made?
Or run down the street, knocking bang bang at all the doors,
shouting tell me about death… and
before that stranger knocks at your own door
and the face is strangely familiar, as if
you’ve been expecting someone, but
weren’t sure what they’d look like…
One thing is certain, in its breezy way:
you’ll be the one who knows least about it
when it happens; but hopefully
the one who knows most about it
after it’s happened…
We could be rather Irish about it,
say, it’s a crying pity you’ll be missing
the wake… but look at it this way,
the funeral won’t cost you a penny…
I’m told that the other day,
a friend of a friend said
whoopee I’m going on holiday…
I guess that would have made for
a rather merrier funeral
as we say now, no dear not a funeral,
a celebration of her life…
but there’s still that moment
of awful mediocrity, when
the coffin begins to move, and it’s half,
this is it, and half, we’re doing this
with discreet good taste, so
you don’t have to notice it… ha…
Then, some like to know beforehand what
they hope just might be known,
visit comfy mediums to ask about
those loved ones who’ve just passed over, is it, dear? …
they make it sound like a well-run care home:
it’s really very nice here, you’ll like it…
they sound as if they’re still wearing
the woollie that you knitted, and it’s tea cups chinking
and a chat about old times.
For the truly religious, of course,
it’s glory day, and so it should:
they’ve made the will, cleaned the house,
given away all that they’ve collected over the years,
said goodbyes; mopped all the tears;
the bags are packed and waiting in the hall,
their conscience clear. This is the moment
when what it’s all about, is what it’s all about..
envy them – their soul is clean, shriven was the old word for it,
their lifetime has been but a preparation,
a walk from one pure spring of grace
to a glorious river full of grace..
so here’s a suggestion: in your mind,
bring together all you’ve loved in all your life –
teddy bear, dolls, kittens, puppies, horses,
maybe even parents… best friends, lovers,
strangers who were unexpectedly kind to you,
friends you hope you’ll never lose,
places that you were forever happy in,
times of happiness that you’ll never forget,
and those strange moments when
you knew you knew something just so great,
but didn’t know exactly what it was you knew…
those moments when time stood still, and
didn't seem to matter any more, because
the where and when that you were in, was forever..
then add to this, all you’ve been, should be
grateful for; all the things you would have praised
more loudly; everyone, but everyone, you love; see
the world as full of wonders unexplained;
see glory everywhere, and yourself
the centre of all that…
stay there.. then what is Death – apart
from what will surely be – compared
to all that glory which is your true self…
go on, admit it… me, I see it shine in you…
what shines in your eternally young eyes
is something that can never die…
Maybe we’ll talk of this some more,
now that we’ve tried to talk about it…
you asked me; this is the best that I can do;
you asked me; this, with all my love, for you..
[A poem written by request]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Atherton's Gambit
The Master played the bishop’s pawn,
For jest, while Atherton looked on;
The master played this way and that,
And Atherton, amazed thereat,
Said “Now I have a thing in view
That will enlighten one or two,
And make a difference or so
In what it is they do not know.”
The morning stars together sang
And forth a mighty music rang—
Not heard by many, save as told
Again through magic manifold
By such a few as have to play
For others, in the Master’s way,
The music that the Master made
When all the morning stars obeyed.
Atherton played the bishop’s pawn
While more than one or two looked on;
Atherton played this way and that,
And many a friend, amused thereat,
Went on about his business
Nor cared for Atherton the less;
A few stood longer by the game,
With Atherton to them the same.
The morning stars are singing still,
To crown, to challenge, and to kill;
And if perforce there falls a voice
On pious ears that have no choice
Except to urge an erring hand
To wreak its homage on the land,
Who of us that is worth his while
Will, if he listen, more than smile?
Who of us, being what he is,
May scoff at others’ ecstasies?
However we may shine to-day,
More-shining ones are on the way;
And so it were not wholly well
To be at odds with Azrael,—
Nor were it kind of any one
To sing the end of Atherton.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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i will not be fooled by Prudence
i have seen the old man
die. His face spell regrets
and no matter how the funeral
make-up artist stretched
his slips, he never formed
a smile.
I know him.
He was during his younger days
a very prudent man
He observed strictly the codes
of restraint
and refused an offer of
looseness and being
free.
He prays a lot
and reports to God
all his misgivings.
He was a handsome young man
and women adored him
But he only had one wife
one woman all in his lifetime
who never sired
him a child.
This was his prime
misfortune.
He was erased from
the genetic tree
Forever.
His wife died ahead of him
and He prayed a lot
not to betray her
even when
more women still
are willing to sleep with
him.
For after all despite his age
he was still a man
with a lovable face.
Then suddenly he died.
Absurd. He died in sleep
A happy death perhaps without
the accompanying torture
of pain and
waiting.
But no matter what,
his face in that coffin
never shows
a hint of the joy
of eternal
peace, that inevitable
rest.
I know him
He has a misgiving.
He was fooled by Prudence.
He was a slave of
His own morality always fearing
what society may name him after.
He died a lonely man.
Erased by time.
Fooled by his own Prudence.
I look at him before he was buried.
And i made a promise with him.
I am not a fool and i will not be fooled
to suffer the same fate he had.
I will choose looseness.
Happiness. The one which is always free
Unrestrained by anyone else's code of Morality.
Subjective, as i have always known
it to be.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mirroring
I looked through the mirrors
And saw my reflection
What I saw was darkness and suffering
It could chase any bright life away.
I looked through the mirror of death
And saw myself burning in hell
Screaming out in sweet torment
Enjoying this immortal condemn.
I looked through the mirror of hate
And saw myself taunting my enemies
I enjoyed my foes pain and smile in shame.
I looked through the mirror of happiness
And saw myself in love; Laughter filled my face with these
With these wrongful feelings.
I looked through the mirror of envy
And saw myself resentencing my friends
Cracking their hearts open with my words.
I looked through the mirror of fears
And saw myself hiding under a hollow tree,
Not even He could shelter me.
I looked through mirror of sorrow
And saw myself buried in pain,
Having a knife at my wrist,
Ready to end this game
poem by C.F Francis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The love For a Nephew
(His smile wide his teeth shining
as he stood with the bright guitar in his hand.)
As he lays in the casket some month later
all fancy and nice, he looks up to the stained glass windows
(The guitar so nice so strong
with its all mesmerizing sound)
the tears from the family friends and children
fall to the ground without a sound
(he looks into his uncles eyes
with joy with pride in his guitar)
the minister stands and reads the script
and he bows his head to the uncle who shall play
(He takes his pick from the case,
and strums the guritar with such grace)
the man with the guitar stands infront,
on stage ready to sing
(As he sits with his uncle
their guitars both in tune)
the man begins to play the song
that was once his nephews dream
(They sit and laugh at faults at trys
as their guitars play side by side)
pick in hand he strums the tune
and looks to the casket tears filling his eyes
(Their laughter filled the room with joy with love,
as the music came together like it was meant to be.)
half way through the tune becomes that afternoon a month ago.
the one with joy and laughter, the one with love.
(As the music slows and is perfected
they set down their guitars and embrace eachother)
The song comes to an end as the church fills with sobs,
with tears of sorrow of longing of loss
(They seperate and look at eachother with joy with faith,
as they sit down face to face)
He stands over his nephews coffin and whispers these soft words: 'I love you so, I love you true and this music will always belong to you'
~this is dedicated to Nightserf(from yahoo answers) whos nephew died of muscular dystrophy about 35 years ago, he wrote a peice of music with his nephew a month before his nephews death, and he played it in the middle of his nephews funeral. I do not know the personally so please don't tell me sorry~
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song... To Baby Indiana, From Magic Tree
Magic tree make a wish for me,
make it make believe give him back to me magic tree.
You were the light inside of me,
then something made you leave,
before I could hold your hand,
and say hey please stay.
Magic tree make a wish for me,
make it make believe give him back to me magic tree.
No one can tell me,
that you were not meant to be.
just taken away by chance,
till in heaven we will dance;
like it was meant to be.
not by chance;
our souls will meet.
Magic tree make a wish for me,
make it make believe give him back to me magic tree.
*** This is as true as the love in this song: [please read]...
Indiana passed on September 17th.
When my mother came to attend her grandson's funeral, she brought a music box; a gift for Indy. We sat the beautiful carousel music box on the piano. No one had wound it; tears were shed, & in love it was placed by Indiana's photos.
The Christmas after, my mother came to stay & have x-mas dinner.
After we ate I sat at the piano to play this song, for my sweet child at Christmas. As I played, the music box started; it played until THE moment I had finished.
As awestruck as I was, I savored every moment. I cried, & played, & sung my heart out; knowing Indy was with us.
Love you darling*
poem by Meriki Raelene ParkinsonFraser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memories (Emirates Airlines)
Today I woke up and jumped out of bed
Looked for my uniform and hat instead
Hoping to be on a flight once again
What was I thinking…it's hard to comprehend?
For a minute, I stood still and looked at the room
Nothing looked familiar…as I had presumed
Then I felt a tear rolling down my cheek
What has life done to make me this weak?
Why did time fly with a blink of an eye?
Memories remain and just goodbyes…
I wish I could travel back in time
When my youth was all at its prime
Friends and family who loved me so dear
Now I'm scared and full of fear
Of what life will bring…its hard to tell
Who to trust …I cant foretell.
poem by Meena Mustafa
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No Tears
tears roll down his checks
as he muttered the words “she’s dead”
I would have stopped
stared as if he was a ghost
and I would have thought
god it’s about time
but as I looked around to the people I loved something came over me
mom and dad were crying,
Ethan, Andy, and even john looked sad
here I was with a smile on my face
how dumb could I be not even act like I care
but the truth really is that I don’t give a shit
about if she had died or not
it’s better for us in the long run anyway
make everyone happier
I’m just a kid so what am I supposed to think when someone
that has made my life and my family’s life miserable
what am I suppose to fell when someone has made me hate coming “home”
what am I suppose to do when many of times I have wished her dead
what am I suppose to say to the person that made me believe I live in hell
am I suppose to lie
what would you do
what would you fell
what would you say
what would you think
I almost feel sorry for not feeling bad
but I don’t
I almost feel sorry for Steve
but yet again why should I care when his parents die
when he didn’t care when my dad died
I will admit there were a couple of minutes
where I felt like a bad person for not feeling bad
but it’s not worth my time
enough tears will be shed from her death
why should I need to contribute to the waterfall
a tear runs down my face
yes a tear
one single tear
yet no tears flow from my eyes
of sadness
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Feet First
i came into this world feet first
they told my mother
out of her three sons, i would be the one
always on the run.
i'd go through life without a care
the thoughts i had, i would not share.
i never stood around long enough for
anyone to get close to me
for too much pain i did see.
i joined the army, so i would not be
close to any family.
little did i know that my thoughts would change
and from here on, i would never be the same.
i played the field with all the girls
and told them whatever they wanted to hear.
but i also made it quite clear
that i was a man on the run
and not be put under the gun.
i was like the wind, here one minute and
gone the next, and i would not be a sacrificial test.
til the day that i went to the company dance
and glanced across the floor.
there she stood proud as can be
just as if she was waiting for me.
i walked across the floor like a fox
waiting for its prey.
she looked at me, and told me to go away.
astounded, dumbfounded, i could not believe.
i did this to others, not them to me.
i sucked in the air and put out my chest
of me she would not get the best.
i walked over to her again and asked her to dance
she looked at me and said 'not a chance'
my friends tell me that you're always on the run
but with me, you will have no fun.
i was born feet first just like you
but at least i knew what to do.
i know when to slow down and make it last
i don't dwindle on the past.
you're getting older and it's time
to settle down
but not one, with whom you've found.
because you have seen a lot of pain
does'nt mean that everyones the same.
open your heart so that you could see
all the beauty thats within me.
i apologized and asked if we could
start from scratch
for my ways i had to patch.
we started it off very slow
and i knew i had a long way to go.
but if i had her by my side
everything would turn out fine.
i told my family what i found.
and that i was settling down.
then i said to my family:
this is a comical, egotistical story
there is no fame, there is no glory.
i came out on the run, and now i'm
enjoying life, and having fun.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Funeral
I worked alone at his funeral
wished to be mine
I say
you left me alone in this scary world
so I closed my eyes
hoping wind will come to change the places.
I worked to the west
and saw his face
smile and raising up sky
I asked him why you leave me alone
but he gone away...
away from me.
I'm now in the south
in the place we met for the first time
I looked around, searching for you
just for luxury life
I woke up to realize
my BROTHER has gone
I worked at his funeral
holding with me all my sorrow
even if life and people
separate us..
I'm going to love you in my whole life
even if you are going to be away from me
I always wanted to be with you out there.
poem by Khalid Alalawi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conquered Life
Lost in her world, pretending to understand his
Where everything is hugs and kindness
Was she dreaming, or was this life for real
Or just a moment of happiness she could steal
Her whole life nothing but loneliness and pain
Not in control of her life, where they would reign
Oh god please end this, she would cry out
Thought this was what life was all about
As a child till an adult, never known love
Tried so hard to have a life to be proud of
Kept reaching out, only finding the wrong man
Pushing her further down, was their plan
She learned to be strong, where all wanted her weak
Held her head high, when they didn't let her speak
The skeletons of pain, now deeply buried
In her heart so deep, is where they're carried
She's happy now, found her place in life
Met a great man and became his wife
Finally happy, very caring and kind
That pitiful life I write about used to be mine!
(Dogs4donna/2007)
poem by Donna Nimmo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skipping School
It's Monday morning and he wanted to skip school,
his stomach was hurting, that's how he would fool.
Mama approached and he held the stomach hard,
She stood and watched as he cried out, ' Oh my God! '
Mama scolded:
'Told you not to sleep late, Why didn't you follow the rule? '
He said:
'I have a stomachache, please don't send me to school.'
Mama told him to rest, believing all the lies,
and set off to work, giving lots of advice.
He slept for sometime, glad to be at home,
but got up in no time, happy but alone.
He watched some TV and played video games,
but actually was missing all school mates.
Restless and lost, Lazy and bored,
eating all junk food, finally he dozed.
Mama returned home and woke him up,
along came his friends happy and pepped up.
startled but awake now, he asked 'how was school? ',
they all said 'wow, it was pretty cool'.
Suddenly he stood up rattling his brain,
everyone looked up when he shouted in pain.
'come here and feel, my stomach is aching,
this time for real, I am not faking.'
Mama said 'drink some water and soon the pain will pass',
His friends gave the school work which he had missed in the class.
Off they went to play
wishing him to get well soon
He knew he had to stay
as he had wasted the afternoon.
He promised himself, will never make an excuse,
bunking the school was really of no use.
poem by Rahul Aithal
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A Nailed Coffin - Life? English & Japanese
Coffin pounded nails
Economy of air
Survive, never complain!
No wasting any air
Be happy you still have
the freedom's scent!
With own blood
-color of love
feel free to paint
on the coffin walls
a million hearts!
a mountain, a river
a sea, the sky,
whole world! !
Keep happy, smile:
-only a coffin, could not
make you feel alone,
Right? ! ?
釘 打 た れ た 棺 桶 - 人 生 ？
釘 を 打 た れ た 棺 桶
空 気 の 節 約
生 き 残 れ 、 不 平 を 言 わ ず に ！
わ ず か な 空 気 も 無 駄 に す る こ と な く
自 由 の 香 り を 感 じ れ る だ け
あ り が た く 思 え ！
自 ら の 血 で
-愛 の 色
ど う ぞ 自 由 に お 描 き な さ い
棺 桶 の 壁 に
百 万 の 心 臓 を ！
山 、 川
海 、 空
す べ て の 世 界 を ！
ず っ と 幸 せ に 、 笑 顔 で ：
-た か が 棺 桶 な ん か で
孤 独 を 感 じ る こ と な ん て な い
そ う で し ょ う ？ ！ ？
poem by Elena Sandu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorry I missed your funeral.
Will you ever forgive, me for missing your funeral?
You might have seen the pain I felt when I heard you passed
Every time I see your picture
My heart just pours out
My eyes get filled with tears
Cud be because I never said goodbye
Daps I really loved you
Deep down in my heart you still live
Your memory lives in me
You I will never forget
Bhelekazi be free, and maybe then I too will be
All I need to know is ….
Are you mad at me?
Have you forgiven me?
For missing your funeral
I was never told of your ill health
Only of your death I was told
How I wish you were still alive
So many things we cud have shared
How can you die so early?
When I was just to matriculate
You were a strong and a loving person
Humble and trusting
Will you ever forgive me for missing your funeral?
Of little words you were
Of much love you gave
You’d take me and Zameka
And brag about your two daughters
Though I was just your niece
I love you Bhelekazi
I miss you so-langa
Will you ever forgive me?
For missing your funeral
poem by Nangamso Ndikandika
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Went To Your Funeral
Yesterday, I went to your funeral.
You asked me to go, read a poem for you.
So I did.
I read a poem about love,
About the love people had for each other.
People seemed to like it, seemed to love you the same way.
I couldn’t figure something out though,
If they felt these things for you, why didn’t I?
I was your friend, but it didn’t seem to bother me,
That you were dead.
I’m sorry I don’t miss you,
But at least I went to your funeral.
poem by Rachel Brewer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Night That Tito Played
It was a hot night
The crowd was hangin' in the neighborhood
Everybody there was lookin' so cool
Everyone was feelin' so good
Now, mister puente
They said he'd be here by ten-thirty
Said he was comin' back to his roots again
To finds some old friends
The night that Tito played
My life forever changed
I felt my heart and soul come alive
I felt it all
Movin' and swayin' under the moon
Prayin' to the rhythm of a puente tune
The night that Tito played
Nothin' was ever the same
There was Romona
She came uptown from corona
Right there on the stairway of the subway train
We danced real slow
(she was heaven to know)
She whispered secrets
The way she kissed me it was perfect
We held on in the shadows of the city lights
Oh, it felt so right
The night that Tito played
My life forever changed
I felt my heart and soul come alive
I felt it all
Movin' and swayin' under the moon
Prayin' to the rhythm of a puente tune
The night that Tito played
Nothin' was ever the same
The night that Tito played
My life forever changed
I felt my heart and soul come alive
I felt it all
Movin' and swayin' under the moon
Prayin' to the rhythm of a puente tune
The night that Tito played
Nothin' would ever be the same
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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