Requiem Éire
There is a place not far from Yeats' Tower.
No life grows there, no lively tune, nor poets power
Has ever rang of this land. Yet here I may recall,
In remembrance, Roscommon; land of the funeral pall.
Headstones have they planted in every field,
Springing forth from grey faced loins, and thus a graveyard yield.
The dead outnumber the living, the youth long gone from the yard.
Inevitably interred in the adjoining garden, they stamped down hard.
There was a wedding there amongst the old dying firs.
The bride wore white, with flowers from a broken wreath.
A funeral plot the wedding gift- a family grave.
Life was buried there; man, woman and unborn child.
What they had, they gave,
And into the ground they piled.
poem by Keith Moynihan O' Brien
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Related quotes
Death Is a Mockery of Life
Death is a mockery of life
They who have lived it through, are dead
So what about death can be said
It lingers in the living room after the funeral
They who have lived it through are dead
We do not speak of death too much
It lingers in the living room after the funeral
We try not to think about the lonely grave
We do not speak of deah too much
It is always raining in the grave yard
We try not to think about the lonely grave
Where no one seems to be, but only was
It is always raining in the grave yard
Some flowers grow between the tombstones
As nature doesn’t care about it, live or death
Just carry on as usual
Some flowers grow between the tombstones
So what about death can be said
Just carry on as usual
Death is a mockery of life
poem by Ina SchrodersZeeders
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Wedding
By the country road I was going silent.
It was deserted and long in the view.
The accordeons had started playing suddenly,
And the silence waved her hands, being confused.
And there was wedding, wedding, wedding singing,
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!
Under play of the rural orchestra the wind joked
With the bride's white veil trying to twine.
The bridegroom was so serious, the bride was
Inconceivably, amazingly young.
The troikas passed by with the sound ringing,
* troika - three horses, harnessed together
And I felt the breath of spring, fresh and new.
I was going alone and unmarried,
And regretted of me being not a groom.
Somewhere was wedding, wedding, wedding singing
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!
poem by Robert Rozhdestvensky, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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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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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
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A jinxed wedding ring
‘A Jinxed wedding ring’
A gold wedding ring with diamonds two
A hundred years ago was bought new
He went down a mine, a hole to blow
Something went wrong, what? We’ll never know
She kept the ring on her wedding finger
Cos for his return, she did linger
She died all alone in a paupers bed
Wear this on your wedding day to the nurse she said
The nurse wore it with pride
Seeing the old lady by her side
Next day her husband went off to war
Never to be seen any more
She waited for him and happy news
A life of solitude was what she choose
Constantly waiting forever forlorn
Her wedding ring forever worn
The nurse gave it to her daughter
Whose husband also went of to the slaughter
She wondered what It was all for
Another widow, another product of war
The ring was passed down to her son
Who gave it to his chosen one
But, shortly after the lovers pact
They were both victims of a terrorist act
Once something new the ring of gold
Was handed down as the something old
There’s no use for you to get worried
The jinxed ring is now buried
Never to produce another loner
Interred with it’s last owner
Another gold ring with diamonds two
My dear! ! ! Will be bought just for you
Michael Micmac Mccrory
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Crying In Your Wedding Dress
The roads always run wet this time of year
Not with rain - with tears
Crying in your wedding dress
Tearing your hair out
The park was always freezing-over around now
Not with winter - with the pain
Of pulling off your ring
Screaming your lungs out
You wore that dress for 16 hours
You wore it too long
You wore it when you arrived
And you wore it when you woke up
I wore my invisible jacket
My invisible trousers
My invisible smile
All day
On our wedding day
The prototype for this event
The blueprint of this heart-ache
Is sketched so deeply in my mind
There was no other way it could be
On our wedding day
I was walking, drunk, stumbling
You were crying in your wedding dress
I was gone, I was never really there
You were crying in your wedding dress
I was broke for any feeling
You were broke for any hope
Crying in your wedding dress
On our wedding day
(2008)
poem by B. Alexander
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A Funeral Note
Life on a lonely pillow,
The thoughts of the morrow to sleep at last;
Not a drum was heard at his funeral.
Of a funeral note,
Darkly as the dead of the night;
But its deep heart is full of dead men bones.
Fruits,
Sweet rejoice;
The flowers of that garden say it all.
Of error, ignorance and strife;
Like the barbarians at play,
Where the earth takes the dead away.
Of error, ignorance and strife;
Like a corpse within its grave,
Ready for the earth to swallow it.
Hear and hail,
Wear and wail;
Like the earth's decaying leaves where,
Life's lonely pillow shares the funeral note.
To all the overgrown sons,
To all the overgrown daughters,
With flowers and azure moss;
The impulse of your strength is like,
The Atlantic's level powers at sea.
Uncontrollable!
Like mourners with sad songs;
Their eyes are heavy and dim,
Broken with remorse like that orbed maid;
Where the moving-star shines dead,
And the thoughts of man die easily.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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One Day Someone Will Say The Same Of Me
The hearse through the main street is passing slow
With the funeral cars following in a single row
Is the dead person a he or a she?
One day someone will say the same of me.
And did that person die young or old
And will her or his life story be told?
To the departed that does not matter 'twould seem
As the dead do not have a sense of self esteem.
The funeral towards the cemetery winds it's way
Up through the main street at noon of day
But on the cortege shoppers no interest show
As in and out of shops they go.
The dead from the Land of the living gone
But life for the living must go on
And the same fate surely awaits you and I
As the dead person in the hearse going by.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Red Velvet Wedding
It was a wedding of white
Spattered with red—
The flowers sang celebrations
As the old bell rang
The time was approaching
The time was running
They took their places
They played their parts
In this wedding of white
Dripping in red—
Some cheered and smiled
Some quietly rejoiced
The music danced
And the world spun
The stars shone
But the night fell
On this wedding of white
Laced in red.
poem by Annia Rosa
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Dead Flowers
When you're sitting there, in your silk upholstered cahir
Talkin' to some rich folk that you know.
I hope you won't see me, and my ragged company
Cause you know I could never be alone
Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning,
Send me dead flowers by th U.S. Mail,
Send me dead flowers to my wedding,
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave.
When you're sitting back, in your rose pink, Cadillac
Making bets on Kentucky Derby day
I'll be in my basement room, with a needle, and a spoon
And another whore to take my pain away
Take me down, little Susie take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground.
And you can send me dead flowers every morning.
Send me dead flowers by the U.S Mail.
Send me dead flowers to my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave
Take me down, little Susie take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground.
And you can send me dead flowers every morning.
Send me dead flowers by the U.S Mail.
Say it with dead flowers in my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave
No, I won't forget to put roses on your grave
song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shotgun Wedding
(roy hammond)
People were standing, all around
At a shot gun wedding, here in this town
And Im a victim oh yea
Of a shotgun wedding
Cause your fathers got a gun
And there aint no place to run
Shotgun wedding and oh listen to me
Well I got to find a job
You, me, baby makes three
Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, wedding oh yea
Cause your fathers got a gun
And there aint no place to run
Shotgun wedding
And all I could hear that day was
Do you take this woman
To be your lawful wedded wife
My my my my shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun wedding
I looked around
I looked around
And all I could see was a shotgun wedding....listen
But I tried to run from town
But her mother tracked me down
She said before I meet my maker,
Some mans gonna make an honest woman of my daughter
So it might as well be you
Oh daddy may be poor
But he owns a forty forty
Shotgun wedding
And oh Im walking up the aisle right now
Here comes the bride singing
Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun.....yea yeaaaa
I could of run away oh no I could be living high
Nobody could stop me now oh shotgun, shotgun
Just give me one more chance
Let me hear that bass boys that bass boys
Breaking my heart
Breaking my heart
Breaking my heart........
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Graveyard
I drowned in the mud of past
Marsh that pushes me to the bottom slowly
To the life without new breath
Flower and stone, have you buried me well?
Soil and tears, just bring me something
I'm no longer chasing the sun I wait
And the rain long doesn't come
I'm lying in the white mass, green grass
Flower and stone, there is nothing to show
Soil and tears, blackeyes my funeral
Graveyard, graveyard
Give me tender, give me a kiss
Before it's too late, like miss
Graveyard, graveyard
My life's gone like a falling leaf
But at least I lived, for my belief
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A May Wedding
A May Wedding
As a bride who has the long veil around her head
The dogwood has white petals and they hide branches on the tree.
When it is time for her to kiss the groom
And the petals fall gently.
They become a white cloth spread neatly.
This looks like a wedding dress with a long train behind her
As she is walking down the aisle in the room
The wedding bells are ringing until she is out of sight
The wind appears and I see white doves in flight.
poem by Meg Harrison
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Of Love And Time
My life through the startled air,
Beware of the branch of the palm tree;
But like the feelings of sadness,
Overcome it with the affluence of love and time.
On my wedding night,
On your wedding night,
On his wedding night,
On her wedding night,
Like the skeletons left over after a feast;
My life is a gesture of a command.
A joyous bridegroom through the startled air,
In a pleasant land to think about my Maker;
By land or by sea i will follow Him.
Love is sunshine but hate is a shadow,
The day is restless but the night is quiet,
Man is imperious but woman is feeble,
From afar off with words from my mind to toch you;
It was for another from of life like,
The dexterity of my struggles in this world.
This vessel is always strong to move on,
Like my life through the startled air;
Though it bends me, it will always obey me.
I saw the woman,
How beautiful she was!
Wide open to the air with faces of her children.
My love is pure like a shape in the moonlight,
My heart is clean like the village clock to lead me on;
For my wants are but a few on this journey like,
The affluence of love and time to overcome.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Soldier's Funeral
The muffled drum rolled on the air,
Warriors, with stately step, were there;
On every arm was the black crape bound,
Every carbine was turned to the ground;
Solemn, the sound of their measured tread,
As silent and slow, they followed the dead.
The riderless horse was led in the rear;
There were white plumes waving over the bier;
Helmet and sword were laid on the pall,
For, it was a soldier's funeral.
That soldier had stood on the battle plain,
Where every step was over the slain;
But the brand and the ball had passed him by,
And he came to his native land, to die.
'Twas hard to come to that native land,
And not clasp one familiar hand;
'Twas hard to be numbered amid the dead,
Before he could hear his welcome said.
But, 'twas something to see its cliffs once more,
And to lay his bones on his own loved shore;
To think, that the friends of his youth might weep,
O'er the green grass turf of the soldier's sleep.
The bugles ceased their wailing sound,
As the coffin was lowered into the ground;
A volley was fired, a blessing said,
One moment's pause, and they left the dead.
I saw a poor and aged man -
His step was feeble, his cheek was wan;
He knelt him down on the new-raised mound,
His face was bowed on the cold damp ground;
He raised his head, his tears were done -
The father had prayed o'er his only son.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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When the mountains cry
When the mountains cry
Split and cracked walls endocrine
Water come out off for redraws the terrain of time
And shake off the dust and life returns
And blooming flowers
The smell of life in the meadows
The birds return to build the nest
After a long migration
And wore a green dress mountain
The wedding starts
Wedding Life
When the mountains cry
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Wedding and Funeral
Nobody here to love me
Nobody there to care
If there’s something to kill me
My breath away
You only come to laugh
Buried me….
Not much time to leave me
Only the shadow comes late
Don’t you hear the bird’s crying
Sometimes so lonely
And the bride should runaway
From the rain….
O, well what can say
Hell won’t pay
For the Cain who still live today
They are looking for glory
not stop for feeling
But still don’t live in peace
What a pity piece…
Of forgive….
On wedding and funeral
We can meet and separate
Life comes not so easy
Why can we stay for a moment
To give
Of a love life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Venevil
Fair Venevil hastened with tripping feet
Her lover to meet.
He sang, so it rang o'er the church far away:
"Good-day! Good-day!"
And all the little birds sang right merrily their lay:
"Midsummer Day
Brings us laughter and play;
But later know I little, if she twines her wreath so gay!"
She twined him a wreath of the flowers blue:
"My eyes for you!"
He tossed it and caught it and to her did bend:
"Good-by, my friend!"
And loudly he exulted at the field's far distant end:
"Midsummer Day
Brings us laughter and play;
But later know I little, if she twines her wreath so gay!"
She twined him a wreath: "Do at all you care
For my golden hair?"
She twined one, and gave in life's hour so rare
Her red lips' pair;
He took them and he pressed them, and he blushed as she did there.
She twined one all white as a lily-band:
"'T is my right hand."
She twined one blood-red, with her love in each strand:
"'T is my left hand."
He took them both and kept them both, but would not understand.
She twined of the flowers that bloomed around
"Every one I found!"
She gathered and twined, while tears would her eyes fill:
"Take them you will!"
In silence then he took them, but to flight he turned him still.
She twined one so large, of discordant hue:
"My bride's-wreath true!"
She twined it and twined, till her fingers were sore:
"Crown me, I implore!"
But when she turned, he was not there, she never saw him more.
She twined yet undaunted without a stay
At her bride's-array.
But now it was long past the Midsummer Day,
All the flowers away:
She twined it of the flowers, though they all were now away!
"Midsummer Day
Brings us laughter and play;
But later know I little, if she twines her wreath so gay!"
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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My father always wanted to be the corpse at every funeral, the bride at every wedding and the baby at every christening.
quote by Alice Roosevelt Longworth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A wedding is a funeral where you smell your own flowers.
quote by Eddie Cantor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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