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Death Funeral Poems | Death Poems About Funeral

These Death Funeral poems are examples of Death poems about Funeral. These are the best examples of Death Funeral poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain | |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.

November 25th, 2013

Written by: Kelly Deschler

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

Details | Verse | |

Secret of the Mortician

The Secret of the Mortician

Dead, but I got eyes
Prepares my body at the morgue
Opens the chest
Drains the blood from its nudity
Admires my body before it decays

After The process of embalming
His hands run all over
I'm still dead
He's satisfied

The next day 
Writes an outstanding obituary 
I sit on display


Copyright © SKAT A

Details | Ballad | |

This Song is for my Mother

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
I know I wasn’t there……

For you

Would have placed 
A magic carpet 
‘neath your weak and shaky legs

Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again

Would have bribed 
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain

Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again

Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old

Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark 
And lonely soul

Be the girl
Playing games
In a world 
The sun won’t set

Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Ashes of the words I spoke

I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away 
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day

I’m  drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….

Copyright © Catman Cohen

Details | Rhyme | |

Simply time to go, a little brother's lamentation

Too hard for me to say goodbye
For all apparent reasons why
Even though we all know it must be
Each heart will someday stop the beat
When the rhythm of life, and silence, finally meet
Yet I always seem so surprised 
To find that death is part of life 
Knowing that regret, will now haunt my every rhyme 
The specter called "if only", will inhabit every line.
Wish I could arbitrate a deal to have gained a little time
Just one more talk with Sissy, to ease my guilty mind. 
And the sun now sets on my regrets
I gamble on time and lose each bet
Thinking I'll move on and yet, 
here I set . . .
Wishing for one more time 
One more pun
One more smile 
That will never come 
If I could just recall the things you said that mattered to you most.
Memories un memorized
That now I'll never know
Years of conversation when I didn't pay attention
Times I should have said I love you 
And somehow failed to mention
Then when you tried to tell me you felt your time was drawing near
Your selfish little brother pretended not to hear.
Even when you did your best,  and tried to let me know
You'd made your peace and you were ready, and that for you . . . 
It was simply time to go

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw

Details | Free verse | |

O The Grieving


My thoughts let go of a thousand memories,
     Like faces, dates, times and places;
Yet, I can easily recall each and every detail,
               On the day of your funeral.

                                    O the grieving . . . 

In the middle of a snow storm I followed,
     And the wind blew back my long hair;
As we meandered down a winding cold path,
                The wild storm paused in the trees.

                                    O the weeping . . . 

Snowflakes fell on me from the tangled branches,
     Falling like crying tears cascading down;
I am lost and moaning in this forever, ever memory,
                  And now the snow drifts in the cemetery.

                                      O the sadness . . . 

A headstone is buried deep in the pure white,
     And but one engraved word is revealed;
In this pristine cold, dead winter wonderland,
                     Only one word can be seen, mother.

                                        O the lamenting . . . 

              Hidden beneath the snow . . .

                   I will treasure your arms last embrace mother
                               Till this heart stops beating . . . .

September 24, 2014


Written by Broken Wings

Entered into the contest, A poem not entered in a contest, sponsor, Poet Destroyer

Fourth Place 

Copyright © Broken Wings

Details | Rhyme | |

The Undyings' Curse

Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
 rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star

Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw 
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries

A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought  by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn

Copyright © Avery Swarthout

Details | Couplet | |

The Psychostasia

The Psychostasia
(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

Details | Free verse | |

Flowers,,,Beautiful Flowers

Flowers...beautiful flowers.

These flowers will not replace my friend.
Their beauty will soon go the way of life-
Fade and wither and then take flight.

Piled upon this mound of dirt to mark our sorrow,
Offered as a sacrifice to soothe our souls.
Petal nor thorn could save this rose.

Like flowers cut down in height of beauty,
This face that bloomed and wore big smiles,
Is covered here to rest awhile.

Then beyond the markers numbered many,
Placed in rows to make order of death,
I saw something that took my breath.

Flowers...colorful flowers...that filled
The field yet fallow...waiting for the day
When friends and family gather...and pray.

Flowers...beautiful flowers.

Copyright © Ray Dillard

Details | Rhyme | |

Field of Flowers and Stones

Lasting memories haunt a tearful mind
How distant the dreams that no one now owns
Etched marble, another name to remind
Lay in silent fields of flowers and stones

To search for days that will never be
and unearth youthful years that quickly passed
To stand in a field where soldiers are free
and know their torment is over at last

Eyes flow freely at a stone to behold
Brushing her hand across a marble name
Her fingers tremble for a son she can't hold
and years she will live with pain she will claim

Handed a flag that eight soldiers did fold
Knowing that her son will never grow old

Copyright © Frederic Parker

Details | Ballade | |

The Moaning Of My Heart

*The Moaning Of My Heart

I laid my heart upon your grave
That winter day when trees were bare;
Their withered leaves fell down to brave
The chill of winter death and share
With you the frozen ground and air.
Cold tears of rain helped to impart
The gloom, as prayer some comfort gave…
But oh, the moaning of my heart.

I plucked a crimson rose that lay
Upon your grave as rain fell down
And joined my tears that solemn day.
I held it to my heart to drown
My hurt, then slowly turned around
To numbly make my way to part
And join with loved ones home to pray…
But oh, the moaning of my heart.

Then April came on quiet feet
To wake the trees with budding bloom.
Thawed ground gave birth, in Springtime heat,
To grass that hid the ashen gloom.
Now stung to life by Springtime’s womb,
The golden youth of Earth gives start
To find new hope, new season greet… 
But oh, the moaning of my heart.

I stand in shadow of death's sting;
Oh Dad, why did you have to part?
Help me to heal with reborn Spring…
But, oh, the moaning of my heart.

© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
   All Rights Reserved
~2nd Place~
Contest: Not Your Average Ballade
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey
Judged: 05/09/2015

The change I made is that I did not carry the recurring rhyme throughout.  Each
Stanza has its own rhyme. However, the third to the last line of each stanza rhymes with the refrain. ababbcac  dedeecdc  fgfggcfc  gcgc

*My Dad's passing was not recent, but a few years ago.  I wrote this poem about how I felt that day.  However, I still miss him very much.


Copyright © Sandra Haight

Details | Free verse | |

Slouching Toward Ferguson

His life was gentle, and the elements
so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and

bodies in unregistered cars idling softly toward oblivion

some quick to anger
some quick to profit
some quick for justice
some tigers lapping blood
some mothers still at 3AM

hands on shoulders with coos commanding
that in a tear and turned cheek there be 'integration'

parody: an orphan annie reboot
parody: 'little black sambo 'round the tiger pit he go!'

we have rioted the last of our colors
bleated them with flexed toes to the wall at the edge of the universe to reverberate starless between
and madness

we have bleated the last of our colors
with centuries gone by without tongue, sockets or lobes

we will bleed the last of our colors
some quick to die
some quick to steal
some quick to burn
some quick to 

lend me your car keys

in a night of full of Alarics
I will bury you

in a night full of piccaninnies
I will melt you to butter

in a night where flames are fishhooks
Sir I need you to step back please

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
we have cried Havoc
let slip
and with purple'd prose stamped this hollowed earth

We who have lived so long
shall with our breath turned mist
I need you to
stain only under stones
that pave with slippery breath
a headline for last weeks massacre
and tomorrow's graves
I need you to
I drew a line in the sand and you crossed it They are not breathing
Look! Look there!
No. I will not.
He dies

Copyright © Brooks Lindberg

Details | I do not know? | |

At a funeral

I can see myself at a funeral
And I can’t defend myself
I can hear the stories about me
As I watch my friends in stealth.

I could have been a better person
And I can’t change any past
I can see the truths around me
And I want to make them last

I want to see a tomorrow
And I can’t believe we’ll fail
I can see the history happening
And I feel a check in the mail.

I need to have been better
And I can’t cherish what is not
I can hear the past coming
And I love all not forgot

I can see myself in heaven
And I hear my mom and dad
I can know the world is waiting
Am I the one that saw the bad

I did see things I love
And I loved the things I saw
I can feel the love of everyone
And I write the scene I draw

I can be gone and not be here
And I miss the things going on
I can forget each day not remembered
But my love for you’s not gone

Copyright © Bill Smith

Details | Lyric | |

Pins and Needles

Another song written in middle school - edited of course. ;)
[Verse 1] I'm trapped within these walls Never to leave at all I am the prisoner inside my own home My spirit is broken I do not believe I'm locked in this chamber which I cannot leave [Chorus] The needles that break the skin The anger that runs within I’m giving it all away Just to stay alive The needles that pierce my veins It will never be the same We’re on pins and needles now It’s how we survive [Verse 2] They say he’ll find me soon Got to get out of this room The blood will spill and he’ll take what he wants to I’ll never let him through GET OUT OF MY DREAM He whispers in darkness, “I’m not who I seem…” [Chorus] [Verse 3] The four walls around me They start to close in I know I’m too late now I know I can’t win So just tell me I’m crazy It’s all in my head You’re not the killer And I am not dead [Chorus] [Breakthrough] Don’t tell me it’s impossible To start it all over again Infection sinks through your pale skin You’ll curse the day that I’m dead [Chorus]

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Details | Blank verse | |

he is leaving home

                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face ,  something hard to understand underneath~
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                      he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes 
                      bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                            his  world of secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~

           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "


Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Haiku | |

darker than raindrops

darker than raindrops
mushroom cloud blooming purple....
I can see my bones

Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr.

Details | Narrative | |

The Bell My Mother Rang

The 18th of December was her last day;
she neither knew the date nor cared to.
Gathered at the hospital, keeping vigil,
we couldn't overcome her fright, or ours.
The pain, too great to be driven away,
was only "managed" with IV drips,
needles stuck in bruised appendages --
bony things -- arms and legs, hands and feet.
Above the medicines and washes, we sniffed
her scent, which, more than her yet familiar
face, to us identified our mother --
a smell we never would mistake
for any other. It went quickly
as her body cooled. The rouged and pickled
carcass they displayed was more a statue
than a person. We planned to bury her
with homely tokens, like an ancient mummy:
a family photo, a brooch she liked,
a pink hairbrush, and the brass bell she rang
to call her keeper during her last years.
But, when the time came, I could not bear
to have her leave so finally;
I took the bell from her metal box.
And, now, I ring it -- not to bring a keeper,
but to recall my mother on her birthday,
and on many dark days when I need her.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore

Details | Narrative | |

The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss

April 14, 2013

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast

Details | Free verse | |

Early mourning

I sift through his Taoist rants
searching the brilliance and madness
for something to make sense; to inspire.

And he does not insult me
with the dust of dead men
though dust is what remains.

Ash falls through my fingers,
as promised, plenty of his own decay,
pure and uncontaminated,

his spirit whispering remembrance;
his legacy blowing in the wind
captured in my heart and lungs.

*Loss contest November 3rd, 2012

Copyright © Thvia Stein

Details | Rhyme | |

I Cannot Look

I cannot look I will not look 
That’s not you inside

Jaws of life are roaring
Trying to cut you free
Crimson are the car seats
Tears are all I see 

I cannot look I will not look 
That’s not you inside

That body in the white bed
With tubes all hanging out
We all just stand in horror
While doctors run about

I cannot look, I will not look
That’s not you inside

I’ve already seen the bandage 
Wrapped around your head
I will not look inside the box
Now your eternal bed

I can’t look I will not look 
That’s not you inside

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
Contest: The Poet III 
Gautami Phookan

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans

Details | Lyric | |

The Funeral

Black Squirrels.....
Leave no shadow
Heads bowed in solemn faith
Cars weaving between stations of the
Cross; and old spanish tiled crypts
A glimpse, then another the casket lowered
The air, acrid with stinging ash of burnt metal; flesh
Fused with memories lost                           

© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © James Marshall Goff

Details | Free verse | |

Under the Tall Trees

Of dust, of dirt;
suspended, lost, remarkable.

Of no merit;
forgotten, under the tall trees.

And bury him;
No accurate history serves.

Under cross;
buried in sand,
buried in dirt.

His face will carry forth,
past this miserable state.

To birth,
to die;
forth not.

of man, 
of earth.

Of dust, of dirt;
suspended, found, 
frozen in time.

Copyright © Adam Lefaivre

Details | Dramatic monologue | |


Here I am.
The dark settles in,
Reminds me I’m alone.
Ghosts of my past haunt me today,
I truly just want to go home.
Separated from my life today,
Barred from my destiny,
Wasn’t meant to be my fate,
How could this happen to me?
I was going to sparkle,
I was meant to shine,
The only question
Remaining today,
Why did I do that line?
Crystal she cried out to me.
She swore I’d be ok.
She would never leave me,
She was here to stay.
She made me feel so special
Gave me such a high,
She made me not care as much,
Until she made me die.

Copyright © shonie griffin

Details | Sonnet | |

Patriot Guard funeral Escort

Patriot Guard funeral Escort
Loch David Crane
August, 2008

Today is sunny: with three dozen bikes,
some decorated cars,  a pair of trikes,
two dozen Marines: all of the family
and toddlers to set their Daddy free
into the Great Beyond beyond the sky
where loved ones send their veterans who die.
Below our feet the stones give way to grass
where they are neatly trimmed; and as we pass
the names of strangers stare into the air
and we look back, wondering who lies there.
I won't step on a grave--I'll walk around
so not to insult those within the ground.
	We ride at funerals honoring those vets,
	brave men and women we have never met.

Copyright © Loch David Crane

Details | Free verse | |


As you sit in your car
All dressed in black.
 You know,
It didn’t have to end like this
Now as you think back you remember
The faint white scars etched in her fair skin
And the timid smile that hid years of despair
 You remember that time your friends saw her crying in the hall
You sat there and laughed as they tortured her
The times you saw her sitting alone at lunch
She looked up at you with pleading eyes
“Hey, can you help me,” they said.
You thought about it , but instead you pretended you didn’t see her
And you left her there, sad and alone
That pleading look now haunts you
It begged somebody, anybody for help
But why should you commit social suicide for her?
You just kept walking away, selfish
Now though, you think back to those boring assemblies
About bullying and what it could lead to
Why didn’t you just listen?!
Maybe you could have spoken up, or found her help
Its too late now though, as you walk up to her casket
To say your first and last words,
To a girl, whose real name
You never cared to learn
“I’m sorry…”

Copyright © Tatiana Dejesus

Details | Bio | |

Maurice Glenn Turner and Randy Thompson: Fallen Heroes

Glenn Turner and Randall "Randy" Thompson were the best police officer and volunteer firefighter in all of Cobb County, Georgia, until March 1995 (WWF Monday Night Raw and WWF Wrestle-Mania XI) and January 2001 (Raw Is War, WWF SmackDown!, and the WWF Royal Rumble) when their lives were taken away from their loving families by Julia Lynn Womack: aka the "Black Poisoning Widow." It seems that it was these two guys in uniform who married the same woman, especially when she was after their money, totaling hundreds and thousands of dollars, even in life insurance. Glenn and Randy have been killed by a deadly liquid by the form of Etheline Glycol rich antifreeze; Lynn Turner used it to spike that of lime-flavored gelatin (green Jell-O), sweet iced tea, and chicken noodle soup. Now, how cold-blooded was that? But to be honest, Maurice G. Turner and Randy Thompson, God rest their souls, really never should've met this gold digging assassin named Julia Lynn Womack (who's now dead) to begin with. Their families, their colleagues, and the citizens of Cobb County, Georgia, they still don't understand why the lives of these two men have to end in a tragic manner. They've got a bunch of whole lives ahead of them. But now that Lynn Turner, who killed both her police officer husband and her firefighter boyfriend, is dead, she can't hurt anyone else ever again. Randall and Glenn are no longer with their friends and families (including their moms), but their spirits will live on forever and they'll see their loved ones in heaven one day. And as for Julia Lynn Womack-Turner, she got what was coming to her and may she burn in the giant pit of inferno for all eternity.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey

Details | Narrative | |

Death In Chicago

She wrote a letter 
Which I happily read
In Spring
Summer baked on
Autumn arrived with a chill in the air
Winter followed with snow 
Then the call came
Aunt Stella had passed away
Two months shy of her eighty-seventh birthday
Could I travel to Chicago for the funeral? 
My cousin’s voice  
Was anxious
Time was short
I would have to leave tomorrow.

The wind brought tears to my eyes
And I remembered why
Chicago was called the windy city.
The funeral was surreal
My cousin and I were lost in the room
Our voices echoed in the chamber
We were the only attendees
Where was the rest of the family
The funeral director nodded
He understood
More than we did.

Before the sad procession to the cemetery 
We walked to her house
In no particular hurry 
Talked old times
Remembered when
There, nestled under trees
We peered through 
Rain stained windows
Looked inside an empty house
Sunlight streaming through a den door facing a back garden
We left quietly.

At the cemetery there was a delay
I began reading headstones 
At random
Nearby were three
Aligned in a row 
Each with the same last name
Following its own order of death 
I made out a father, an uncle 
And a young boy
Age ten
Standing over his grave
I caught a glimpse of something faded red and metallic
Chipping the frozen ground 
I saw
A toy truck
How long had it been there
I could only guess.

As the Priest mumbled
Half forgotten Catholic prayers
I bent down and carefully
Pressed the toy
Back into the cold 
Brittle earth
As it was
Meant to be
Years and years ago.

When the service ended
We looked at each other
My cousin and I
Thoughts and deeds
Of long ago
Brought back memories
I called out to him
Look after yourself.
He smiled and turned 
You visit. Stay in touch.
The Priest remained
Where he was
The cold winter sun
Reflecting his bright colored vestments.

Copyright © Edmund Siejka

Details | Elegy | |

Death of a Love One

I had a wonderful day, what could have went wrong
Went to sleep feeling like a brand new man
Laying in bed, sleeping so peacefully
Two guys walked in unexpectedly
They said wake up, no hesitation
Ten bullets in my back, no explanation
Was this a dream I’m gonna wake up from
No its not, I’m a completely dead man
Why me?  Answer my question
I had a family and other love ones.
Now I’m gone, but memory lives on
How about you where do you stand?

Copyright © Chrishanna Powell

Details | Lyric | |

Obituary Poem

I saw you cry yourself to sleep last night,
I watched as you struggled to start your day.
I asked the Lord to make your grief load light,
And give you help along the way.

Forgive me for not staying longer,
But I really had to go.
The Lord called me, I could not linger,
Sorry, but it was time to go home.

Remember what you will of me, 
No matter what, just know I cared.
Whether friend or family,
Remember all that we have shared.

Now I’ve made heaven my home,
You knew that’s where I’d be.
I am not at all on my own,
And my soul is at peace.

I know its hard at the beginning 
But I also know you’ll make it through.
I hope it helps your heart to know I’ll be waiting,
In paradise for you.

Copyright © Kimberly Moore

Details | Ballade | |


Imagine lakes of dreams 
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose 
Or touch another soul 
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior  is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact 
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress 
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this 
Because that's what life brings.

Copyright © Andre Sanders

Details | Couplet | |

The Murder of My Heart

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