These Funeral Couplet poems are examples of Couplet poems about Funeral. These are the best examples of Funeral Couplet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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
Entry for Sidney Lee Ann's "All About You" contest
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
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.
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.
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.
(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
A BORROWED ANGEL
SOMETIMES THE LORD LENDS ANGELS TO US TO TEACH US HOW TO LIVE,
TO LOVE US UNCONDITIONALLY, AND SET EXAMPLES ON HOW TO FORGIVE.
WE WERE BLESSED WITH THE MOST PRECIOUS ANGEL HE HAD AVAILABLE TO LOAN.
WE HAD HER TO TREASURE FOR ONLY 20 YEARS, AND THEN HE CALLED HER HOME.
SHE WAS PERFECTLY INNOCENT, NEVER HATING OTHERS, A HEART AS PURE AS GOLD
WHEN IT CAME TO BEAUTY, SHE SOARED UNTOUCHABLE, HER SMILE WOULD KISS THE SOUL
SHE WAS TAKEN AWAY TOO SOON,THOUGH 99 YEARS WITH HER COULDN'T SUFFICE.
AND IF WE HAD THE CHOICE DO IT ALL AGAIN, WE WOULD ALL AGREE TO LOVE HER TWICE
IT IS HARD TO SAY GOODBYE TO THE BEST KIND OF LOVE WE COULD EVER HOPE TO GET
AND WE ARE TRYING SO HARD TO LET HER GO, BUT WE HAVEN'T LEARNED HOW YET.
NOW THE DAY HAS COME, AND TIME WON'T WAIT FOR US TO CONSENT.
SO UNTIL THE DAY WE GO TOO, WE WILL TREASURE MEMORIES OF TIME WELL SPENT.
SHE BLESSED OUR LIVES WITH UNCONDITIONAL LOVE AND THE LESSONS WE HAVE LEARNED.
BUT NOW, HE CALLED HER BACK HOME, A BORROWED ANGEL, TOO SOON RETURNED.
SHE IS A PIECE OF OUR HEARTS, RESIDING IN OUR SOUL , SHE'S LIKE A WELL LIT EMBER
ALWAYS ETCHED DEEP IN OUR THOUGHTS, HEART, AND MIND. AND FOREVER REMEMBERED.
I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…
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.
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!?