Funeral Bells
Watching your funeral to see the love,
Painless death, lack ring dove.
Who really cared,
ones who just stared?
End of life,
See deaths syth.
Say hello to hell,
Funeral bell.
Time to go,
Follow the crow.
Wave good bye,
Last sigh.
Does anyone see you?
Wondering who.
poem by Ailish Canning
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Cry of the fatherless son
I will not mourn my father's death
I won't even be struck by his death.
I will not contribute a coin to buy his coffin,
Or for the funeral which I won't even attend.
As is the custom,
I won't name my first son after him.
My children won't ever see photos of him.
I will not tell them tales
that my father supposedly told me.
His name in my house will never ring a bell,
Neither will he ring my doorbell -
For if he does I will let my dogs loose on him,
no matter how old and frail he'll be.
His name in my house shall be forbidden.
But how could I mourn your death?
How would your death strike me?
How could I contribute to your funeral?
Or attend your funeral?
As is custom,
how should I name my son after you?
And how would my children see your photos?
What tales did you tell me,
so I can tell them?
How could your name even ring a bell,
Or you ring my doorbell?
How would I let my dogs loose on you,
An old stranger that I haven't
My eyes set on?
Forgive me.
poem by Kimani wa Mumbi
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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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The Good Funeral
There may be a heaven
Sealed in the dark
Then there's no denial
About life here on earth
But while I wait here anyway
I have to love this 'til the day -
I want to have the good funeral
Death the mirror of life
Rock and roll in a big stadium
To the tune of paradise
If there is a heaven
I'll send a little note
Thanking everybody
Every good soul
For the good funeral
Death the mirror of life
Darling do this one thing for me
Don't you cry
Please just party when I die
poem by Matt Ullman
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Never Mourn At My Funeral
Never mourn at my funeral
Because i'm not dead but sleeping
And relaxing on Abraham's bossom
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in view to mourning
But within you, you're here to mock
Because my poetry has once expose your secret-deeds
Throw my body where you please
Or let it be dismembered
Never mourn at my funeral
You the insect that bites my daffodils
And you who want my fish to swim on a dry earth
Throw me on a stormy sea
Where Jonah fell
But its a glorious shame
I can never sight the river bank of Joppa
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in my maker's name
Just to bless my end
Go thy way and search for lust souls
Wear them a garment pure as snow
Before they lie low with me
And journey hell eternal
Never mourn at my funeral
But mourn for we're debtors of death
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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I Can Hear The Funeral Bell
I can hear the funeral bell tolling in the church across the way
Calling in the family and friends of the deceased one for to pray
For the soul of the departed though what happens to the soul
When life's last breath we have taken would seem beyond our control,
Tolling slow and tolling loudly carrying in the freshening breeze
Out there in the sunlit Parkland birds are whistling on the trees
Life on Earth goes on as usual though to life people come and go
Though of a life after death it would seem none can say that they truly know,
Listening to the bell toll slowly makes me once again recall
My own very fragile mortality there's a last day for us all,
Life is brief the years go quickly time does not wait for you or I
And they say the longer we live the sooner we are going to die
And though the funeral bell is tolling in the house of prayer nearby
Swallows chirp above the Parkland in the bright and sunny sky.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Funeral
I'm Standing At Your Funeral Ready To Say Good Bye
I'm Standing at your funeral ready to cry
I'm remembering all those notes we used to past
I'm remembering all those insides jokes
I'm wondering why this relationship could've last
It's close to my turn to say my good bye
I'm trying not cry.. I'm ready to try
It gets to my turn and I close my eyes as my feet drag to the front
My Final words to I said 'I wish I could of saved you from everything I said.'
'Wish I could fix every thing bad you read'
'Wish I could Die right next to you in your arms'
'Babe.. I want you back, let this be a dream'
'Let Me Hear my alarm'
I lower my head and feel my body tremble
I'm standing at your funeral..
poem by Kristina Bowman
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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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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
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I had a thought on your funeral...
Eighty years of life
on this Earth
Was it worth?
I had a thought on your funeral.
Eighty years ago in heaven
when you were just the soul
and wanted to forever become
a part of this whole
You urged God to grant you a life
And promised
you would this time achieve your goal
But did you keep your promise at all?
I had a thought on your funeral.
The aim of your taking birth was
Service, contribution and asceticism
You instead chose
Hoarding, platitude and hedonism
God prescribed
Love, joy and compassion
On your life you inscribed
Jealousy, gloom and repression
I had a thought on your funeral.
Childhood’s dawn wiped out in dependence
Lust devoured on the morning of adolescence
Youth’s noon you squandered
due to fear and apprehension
Dusk of old age got totaled in
egotism, vanity and pretension
I had a thought on your funeral.
I asked myself
Was I any different from you?
Was I keeping my own promise to God?
The response from within came in negative
My heart did not give the nod
Seeing you sleeping in God’s lap
with a performance that was dismal
Your funeral appeared to me
as God’s signal
And I realized I had a chance to change
before I reached my own burial.
I had a thought on your funeral.
(30.08.2011; New Delhi; India)
poem by Anshul Gupta
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Life and Death of Happiness
Mourn the death of good things which
have passed so quietly in the night,
cry over their funeral
growing uncontrollable as the casket is closed so tight.
Feel the warmth of good thing’s soul
as it escapes into forever after
wave good bye
with a tear in eye
to love,
to light,
to laughter.
Rush into the hospital,
you should have known, you were forewarned
that every time a good things dies
another is shortly born.
poem by Chris Weersing
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His Funeral Is Mine
He is just a young man,
With little knowledge of his own future.
Little did he know,
His funeral was coming in days time.
Years have passed him by,
And little did I know,
I fell in love with him,
He fell in love with me.
Little did we both know,
Too little.
I figured out from his unhappiness,
His marriage was the day of his funeral.
I know the right thing to do is to stay away from him,
But he's too charming,
He has me locked in his magic spell,
His funeral has become mine.
As I fall asleep each night,
I remember the minutes in his presence,
As I know he is spending the night
With his wife..
poem by Petra Tawfik
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Left Bereft
I face the future fearfully
it’s time to say my last farewell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
My joy in life is gone from me.
I lack the words with which to tell
I face the future fearfully.
Fell death chooses impartially
I hear the tolling funeral bell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
My friends bow heads respectfully.
My bitter tears already fell
I face the future fearfully.
I am sunk deep in misery
an unexpected blow which fell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
Life holds no value now for me,
without my love a lonely hell.
I face the future fearfully
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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.
Funeral Becomes a Must
Funeral of the Mind
becomes must though should not
Aggregation-and-Aggravation
be in halt.
Funeral of the Heart
becomes must though should not
Affliction-and-Abjection
be in halt.
Funeral becomes a Must!
poem by Roseville Nidea
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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
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Walking Nightmares
Black silhouettes of a hangman's noose
Surrounded by ways to cut my life loose
Worn away gravestones of the gone and forgotten
Smell of decay, Bodies are rotten
Clouds form to create tombstones
Dead and abandoned, Feather and bones
In the road states the word death
Written in blood and the body that's left
Defenceless creature lays on the curb
Ripped apart flesh leaves me disturbed
No escape from death, No where to turn
Murder in mass as distant trees burn
Shadows before me stand crucified
I hear dying children that have cried
Funeral bells ring in the back of my mind
A family photo that's been left behind
Fallen tree looks like a dead body
Waiting to be found and ready to study
A helpless wave from a fallen branch
The wind whistles the funeral march
poem by TyjaRae Guy
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The Farewell Bell
The peals of the funeral bell echo to the calm sky
For someone today 'tis a final goodbye
And on some future date whenever that be
A similar bell will be ringing for me.
Free of the cares of life and of worry and fear
The farewell bell for him or for her the deceased one doesn't hear
By it's slow drawn out tolls it's not hard for to tell
That for someone the ringer rings the farewell bell.
The same fate for you and for me and for all
To the scythe of the Reaper we eventually must fall
Yet on a sunlit wattle the magpie does sing
And he care not if for one the farewell bell ring.
A beautiful morning the magpie in song
With the farewell bell he is singing along
And white butterflies dancing a beautiful sight
Around the blossoming trees in the warm sunlight
poem by Francis Duggan
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Afternoon in February
The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.
Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.
The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;
While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.
The bell is pealing,
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;
Shadows are trailing,
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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My Father-in-Law and I
MY father-in-law is a careworn man,
And a silent man is he;
But he summons a smile as well as he can
Whenever he meets with me.
The sign we make with a silent shake
That speaks of the days gone by—
Like men who meet at a funeral—
My father-in-law and I.
My father-in-law is a sober man
(And a virtuous man, I think);
But we spare a shilling whenever we can,
And we both drop in for a drink.
Our pints they fill, and we say, “Ah, well!”
With the sound of the world-old sigh—
Like the drink that comes after a funeral—
My father-in-law and I.
My father-in-law is a kindly man—
A domestic man is he.
He tries to look cheerful as well as he can
Whenever he meets with me.
But we stand and think till the second drink
In a silence that might imply
That we’d both get over a funeral,
My father-in-law and I.
poem by Henry Lawson
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