When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed
So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function
No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent
When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’
And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”
Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel
Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon
All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”
There are people who seem to take life way too seriously
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy
Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
(The Egyptian Funerary Rite)
For seventy days I’ve been prepared
With oils and unguents ever so rare
And with linen bandages to and fro
Wound and wrapped from head to toe
And on this journey I’m prepared to start
By enduring the “Weighing of the Heart”
With Toth’s oversight we’ll see whether
My heart weighs true against Truth’s feather
Should it fall short the beast will devour
My soul to oblivion in my final hour
Yet should it measure straight and true
The Pylon opened I’ll be ushered through
And then I shall fall unto my knees
And pray that Osirus hears my pleas
That he acknowledge and clear my tears
And accept my soul for a thousand years
And cleanse said soul of all its scars
And make me one with the canopy of stars
And bless my children and my wife
That they may join me in the afterlife
Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2010
Death is not the end,
For love goes on
And you will find the evidence
Long after I have gone.
The flowers that we planted
Will blossom without end,
You’ll find me in their beauty
As to their needs you tend.
The books we read together,
The laughter in the pages,
Will continue to give pleasure
To you throughout the ages.
So do not mourn my passing
You are not left alone,
You’ll always find me waiting
In the places we have known.
The bond that grew between us
Will not abate with time,
It will go on for always,
I’m yours and you are mine.
Copyright © May Fenn | Year Posted 2015
Another stab, another wound, another scar to bear
I wonder if my little heart will find the will to care
It has been mutilated; its fibers have been shred
By all the hurtful things that to it have been said
Its beating is becoming faint, its rhythm is disturbed
Brought on by the rejection that on it was conferred
The blood is gushing out, a never ending stream
Perhaps it will finally stop while I sit and dream
The murder of my heart, was done without a scene
By the outer evidence, the job was very clean
The murderer got away, he left no fingerprints
No one knows his identity, for he left behind no hints
I buried my little dead heart and paid it proper due
The gravesite is a mystery that I’ll not reveal to you
Don’t bother to stop by and place flowers by the grave
Your pretentious act of kindness, your honor will not save
A murderer you are and a heinous one you'll remain
For though I have no heart, I still feel the phantom pain.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
Come and visit me in a dream,
And tell me how you are,
Are you floating on a cloud?
Have you found the brightest star?
I know you're with us somewhere,
Even though you can't be seen,
Painting the bluest sky,
Or among the grass so green.
As I'm wandering through the park,
Looking up at the trees,
Daydreaming of the joy you brought,
Will you visit me please?
Just send me a little sign,
White feathers on the breeze,
To let me know you're happy, free
And put my mind at ease.
Or ask a passing stranger,
With twinkling brown eyes,
A cheeky smile, and baldy head,
To nod as he passes by.
Or maybe play a special song,
Loud, on my radio,
That could have been written just for you,
About all the love we've known.
Come visit me in a dream,
And tell me how you are,
I know you're there, a floating cloud,
And one of the brightest stars.
Copyright © Sarah Judd | Year Posted 2011
I wish I had just one more day,
to say the things I wish to say.
To walk along behind your wheelchair;
How you could out run me just wasn’t fair.
Have our morning coffee; sit and chat,
once again call you an old senile bat.
Millie, I always admired your will to fight.
Talking with you made everything all right.
Funny how nature’s rules centrist and bend;
Millie you were much more than my friend.
You were the mother I so long ago lost,
you taught me how to face and pay life’s cost.
You were always there to lend me an ear;
offer advice, which I shall hold forever dear.
I will miss your voice; raspy from the smokes,
you were one of a kind who loved to tell jokes.
We found my family and we found your son;
two wonderful things, which we got done.
Millie you may have passed but this is no lie,
up inside of my heart you could never die.
The message behind all of these tears I cry;
I will see you later, I will never say goodbye.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2011
Another passing, quiet tears
A time of reckoning, a few more beers
Once wooded, now populated, concrete
Where crickets chirped, now a street
Dreams dying, goals unreached, a new reality
Coming face to face with your own mortality
Material achievement, awards on the wall
Of no real value, please take them all
To change the world but the drive is gone
There's a torch still burning, can you pass it on
Stars in the sky whose light will not diminish
Journey toward dreams that you'll never finish
There is a peace in memories, pain doesn't last
The future intimidates but not the past
Different roads but the same destination
Reaching back in sheer frustration
Fearing places where we don't know what we'll find
Thinking back to all we left behind
Another passing, quiet tears
A time of reckoning, a few more beers.
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2013
Gravity pulls my tears into pools.
Im sinking in sorrow -emotional fuels.
Just turn back the time, I just want a moment.
To say goodbye once, to cherish and own it.
I loved my granddad - a man more than great.
Paired with my Granny as the perfect mate.
A montage of memories that rush my soul.
My eyes fill with tears, I'm losing control.
Just keep it together, it's what he would want.
They all say the same, but I stand in front.
Happiness swells, yet sadness prevails.
Like Christ on the cross, with hands full of nails.
Life has a reason, and death isn't treason.
-It's moving on up.. A lifetime's a season.
I look to the sky and say my goodbye.
The time won't turn back, I gave it a try.
I close my eyes and imagine this-
Paradise in a place full of bliss.
World peace in a piece of the world.
Without loss and bombs never hurled.
Snow that falls that doesn't freeze.
Sun that shines that doesn't cease.
A land where "The forever" is real.
A scene where the sick always heal.
Life with infinite love, like gusts in the wind.
Two little doves, with eternities to spend.
God has a plan, fool-proof to the core.
Now Granddad's with him, a reward of much more.
Copyright © Yours Truly | Year Posted 2013
I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…
Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2012
He was graced with long life as the work he required,
A present flame, aft he retired,
He deepened the souls that sat before him,
And made them express with written decorum.
He read their assignments with special attention
That challenged and called forth youth's finest rendition.
He opened the door to a life well read,
His students entangled in Baalat's web.
Gazing back through the specularium of time
One saw an intellect so immensely fine
That it slightly abashed those of higher grade,
His light joining their lights where others fade.
Moving on one lingered a bit in the past,
Still meeting challenges from his intellect, so vast.
That it scarce was contained
In the role for him framed.
His soul now borne upon the Stygian Lake
Leaves proper grammar trailing in its wake;
This gentle muse vanished in the night,
The curtains closed, doused the light.
No need for stately obelisk oe'r his bier
To greet mournful pilgrims once a year;
For though he'll be long gone,
The phallic symbol, he loved so, lives on.
Copyright © Boruch Fishman | Year Posted 2012
I stand here alone, in a room all in black,
Patiently waiting for the gavel to clack;
I don’t get to speak, here at the end,
Persecuted by all, enemy and friend;
They speak of the deeds now tied to my name,
And all I can do is shudder in shame;
I’m here at the trial at the end of my life,
And each testimony cuts like a knife;
I can’t even explain, my deeds say it all,
I await my judgment and try to stand tall;
I was petty, held grudges, and committed mass crime,
And didn’t do productive things with my time;
Six feet below my body is entombed,
And I know deep down my fate is now doomed,
And all I can do I is silently pray,
That God grants me mercy on this solemn day;
The jury is in, they hold my life in their hands,
All I can do is hope He understands;
“Cleared of all charges” the verdict now reads,
My soul once damned is now to be freed;
He granted forgiveness for all of my sins,
Allowing my soul to begin again.
Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2011
God Given Gratitude
Puttered around and to Poetry Soup do go
And see my great number of poems grow
Which were written by me and well-meant
Into state of ecstasy some poets were sent.
Poem appeared smack dab in middle of night
Went back to man cave and turned on light
Started writing freely and porously like I do
After a picture in my mind the poem drew.
Never would have a worry or even any fear
Words profusely on page started to appear
Into sentence after sentence they became;
To not write down would be a big shame.
I did delightfully accept the delinquent dare
To write one more poem beyond compare
Setting such a high standard poets may meet
And with each other could try and compete.
Finally, my monotonous poem is over and done
And horrors soon will be read by everyone
Why I like each Souper is their great latitude
Would God to my poems give His gratitude?
Tune in tomorrow for my next poem to borrow;
Even with sweet sorrow, Was it by Clarence Darrow?
James Thomas Horn
It is my own funeral so I chose
funeral in the subject section.
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015
My Days have Come, My Nights have Past,
Death has Come to Me at Last.
Copyright © Jason Cunningham | Year Posted 2010
People planters find it hard to tear
at the loss of your near and dear
At two hundred percent profits
Devastation gives them fat pockets
Diggers open up the ground
Where people sprouts can be found....
Sprouts or people dust....it is hard to know!?
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2011
As I stood at Adam’s burial today,
I was searching for comforting words to say;
I felt his presence and looked to the sky,
And overhead a mighty raven did fly;
And atop his wings I am sure,
The spirit of Adam’s soul did stir;
They leant me the courage to speak and be heard,
To give his family an encouraging word;
And I watched the raven and tried not to cry,
As he took Adam’s soul to God in the Sky.
(In my culture Ravens are the vessel's that take your soul to the next world)
Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2010
In an icen forest ,
inside a crystal grave,
beneath the ancient snowy trees,
a tiny fairy lays.
In frosted air above her,
brushing wings with glassine leaves,
snowflakes dust the branches,
as all faerie-kind does grieve.
For a summer fae was never meant
in wintertime to bide,
the northern King,thought love would be,
enough to warm his bride.
But the King’s brother did wish her heart to claim,
and when she did not turn,
he poisoned her with holly,
and left her with frost burn.
But justice is not lacking,
for the evil deed was seen,
a sprite was in the window,
but could not save the Queen.
The King’s brother we see frozen,
hung now from diamond thread,
he thought to win the Queen her love,
but now has lost his head.
So now forever sits the King ,
in the winter land of Fae,
to never love another ,
from the land of Summer’s Day.
Copyright © Jeanette Woods | Year Posted 2013
The Difference My Life He Did Make
Precious are the memories which lift my soul
Soring to heights of remembered laughs
The joys having made eternal will always last
Good experiences for the lessons I did learn
This life of a man who shared in kind
For in his living day by day
This man helped me in showing the way
A way of living as a better husband father and man
A way of living that I might stand
To stand tall for family friendship and right
That from this day-forth his trodden path reflects light
Light to shine when worries I do care
Light to glow my path when in despair
I rejoice to know the difference my life he did make
In remembrance of my Father-In-Law
Poem by Mark A. Goodson (son-in-law)
Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012
On my grave the rose you cast,
all you see is my past.
As you know me so well,
now i bid you farewell.
Copyright © Jason Cunningham | Year Posted 2010
In my armor instead he wore
Now lays dead, my friend of honor
Petroclus, Oh! The grief I bear
Cannot be wiped away like tears.
Long will I suffer his demise;
Lost forever, our mortal ties.
My lifelong friend lies before me
His emaciated body
Dressed in his “Best Mans” tuxedo
He wore so many years ago
as my best man in our wedding
bearing our golden wedding rings.
Oh! This human weakness: sorrow
What claim you, all my tomorrows?
Copyright © Albert Ahearn | Year Posted 2011
There was a moment in time when everything stopped,
It was like a dream on an entirety with you.
It there could be a moment to take back the regret, heartbreak and confusion I doubt I would.
I fear telling you how much I love you.
Thinking it ruin are forever relationship,Not knowing it was mutual. May we be of flesh may we be of soul may we have that savior peace.
What rules then are our own?
If we break that promise which bond each with a letter in blood.
As time stop the wind blows,we who bore so close taking the finally blow.
As we gaze into each to each tear streak face we smile and know.
Today we can be together forever in each other arm.
As though time kept going but for us,it stopped.So our moment int time where only the wind blew.
This is the most wonderful dream we have ever shared.
Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2012
The Past is yours, the past is mine.
Your Past is Fine, Death was Mine.
Copyright © Jason Cunningham | Year Posted 2010
Introduction: It’s a piece dedicated to the lullaby of a different kind. It’s something which has happened to many out there, but the experience is distinctively significant…
A priceless surprise, silenced all in its tune
By a soft heavenly cry, from the delivery room
Only a few hours was the night; so young
Where for the first time, she opened her eyes,
While by her side her dearly loved one
For the last time, closed her teary eyes
Father held her near and resounded to her cry;
But all mother could share was, this lullaby –
The long last beep from the ECG
Echoed her heartbeat…The last goodbye
Happiness and sadness broke through the night
With streams of tears for mother’s plight;
She never had the chance to hold her close
But left precious prayers that never left her side
As she came down to their hearts
Her soul flew up high apart,
The transfer of two lives through one,
Their journey was complete and done
Caught within that reverie
He conveyed the Azaan through her ears,
In the wake of such irony
He fell down to prostrate in tears
When all hopes seemed to end, father’s prayer did transcend
O’ Almighty became her closest friend and had for her a Grande plan,
Under HIS mercy and HIS guide, she flourished through the darkest nights
To a new beginning – she set off to write.
Copyright © Aqeb Be-Nazir Ibn Minar | Year Posted 2012
I am an invisible man.
Try and see me if you can.
Shy and quiet I remain alone.
Silent is my voice’s tone
No one can feel my pain and sorrow
As I hide inside of my burrow.
Shadows consume my body and soul
As I embrace the misty cold.
The reason for my unseen being
Lies in the fact I hate being seen.
This life and existence’s of my own choice
And I choose not to have a voice.
I am silent. Invisible. Inexistent.
Yet I am invincible, an immortal being
Copyright © Granny Face | Year Posted 2012
The father's skill on how to meet his end,
that's what for sure his children will descend.
Copyright © Volodymyr Knyr | Year Posted 2014
Two young children play outside the house,
Inside a mother watches through windows folding a blouse.
With the kids in the back she heads to the chair,
When through the front window come soldiers, a pair.
One is dressed like her husband the other more like a priest,
Then came the knock, sounding like a relentless beast.
Her mind said just leave them outside at the door standing,
Her hand opened the door, on her knees she felt herself landing.
The soldiers told of her husbands fate,
Wanting them to just leave her tears could not wait.
The two young children came in the backdoor,
Seeing two soldiers and their mommy on the floor.
The oldest asked mommy what is the matter,
Come here my blessings, hugging, I will explain it later.
Her world had flipped, turned upside down,
He returned to her in a casket with a flag draped all around.
They had to drive from the airport to their small country plot,
She couldn’t count the people lined along the road, but it was a lot.
Each one waved a flag, some cried as if they knew her girls’ dad,
She’d never seen most of them, but seeing them now made her glad.
She saw signs that read “Welcome home Hero” and she filled with pride,
Even that couldn’t stop the tears, at the gravesite she just cried.
She stayed there saying goodbye, her family had to pull her away,
She’s glad they did for she wouldn’t have left his side that day.
She is exhausted, overwhelmed, she must sit down,
Then she sees the photo of him in a Tux and her in a wedding gown.
How could this be real, she’s too young to be a widowed wife,
He was her partner, best friend, the love of her life.
Now the hours have past his vessel is in the ground,
All the parties are leaving she’s alone in their home, not a sound.
She weeps in her chair alone in the dark no sound but the clock,
God help her find strength, a way to move forward, after the knock.
Copyright © Brian Magness | Year Posted 2011
On the day of her daughter's burial
She requested to see the body
The family's decision was to discourage it
She was already in deep gripping sorrow
Her blood sugars were out of control
Her depression would need counseling
But she had too, she had to see her daughter one last time
She stood next to the coffin and looked at her daughter's lifeless body
"My daughter," she talked to her daughter
"I love you
I raised you and your siblings as a widowed mother
The hardship and suffering I went through
Is nothing compared to losing another of my own
Lord, what wrong did I do to deserve this? "
And collapsed next to the coffin
Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015
Copyright © 2014
Are we in Tribulation
foretold in Revelation?
People losing hope
and faith to cope
But something gave us a start
from the beginning a GOD?
Or, another type of Creator
a Grand Order Designator?
Some say a microbe,
from a stellar abode?
Told, ending on the Sixth Day
IT designed everything ITS Way
For sure IT knows us
and its better to trust
Trust in the unseen via Revelation
until the end of world Tribulation
Edit: Sep 28, 2014 // 6:06pm
Oct 11, 2014 // 12pm
Copyright © Les Pruitt | Year Posted 2014
Do miss Barbara; passed away
Always was so loving and gay
Was in touch with what is real
At least that's the way I feel
Found peace above with God
A resting soul; And new bod
She is also looking down
Don't treat this with too much of a frown!
Copyright © Joshua Lacey | Year Posted 2010
There's a hole in my heart
that's black and wet.
As I'm waiting for my doctor
to cut and set.
While I'm fearing that a lover
could get too close.
As my shame is that of dying
and is much verbose.
While I'm waiting for my death
to fast approach.
That my comfort comes in knowing
there's no one to coach.
When the pain begins to numb
to a calming rest.
That I'm anxious of a sleep
knowing it's my best.
When I hear off in the distance
a familiar voice.
To awaken to my seeing
without a choice.
When surrounded by the others
that I've know before.
More than now, I've come to realize
I'm through Cupid's door.
Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2016
My River Smolenka has been free of ice now for weeks, but today
I saw the flat smoothly-flowing river steaming grey -
Bearing remnant ice-floes from some upper tributary stream,
Small, weak, lifeless, their former life a dream:
An ice funeral cortege - silent slow black calm steady
All floes going to die - each melts, reunited with its parent substance like souls unready.
Each drops its load of dirt and cigarette butts and beer bottles - purified.
Only by the stuff it has dropped is its shabby existence testified.
Smolenka is their Styx - their frozen wastes will never return;
Unmourned by watchers on the bridge, who turn
Aside like all the rest
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011