Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Flower Funeral Poems | Flower Poems About Funeral

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Rhyme | |

Tender of Roses

Beloved, lovely roses: gift of God and lover’s flower,
Spread your colored petals and cradle tender showers.
While admiring the blossoms with their beauty to behold,
Ought we not to know the Tender of such lovely garden groves?

For He lovingly and thoughtfully wields His pruning shears
To cut away the stems of old for fuller future years.
He cultivates and feeds them. He attends them as a Father
Looking daily to their needs; so faithfully He waters.

From the dawn of morning dew until the setting sun arrays
Caring always for His own until that great appointed day…
When the Gardener comes to claim each one the earth held as its own.
He gently picks it at its peak and for His pleasure takes it home.

As God did one glorious morning, when the Perfect Rose had bloomed.
He rolled away the stone and met with Mary at the tomb.
There the sweetest Rose of Sharon rose that we die not alone.
But be gathered for a garden grove, surrounding heavens throne.

Copyright © Tom Valles

Details | Didactic | |


the skies are broken
and the winds ravage mad
bringing famine clad
which stir awake our ecosystem to cry

weeping tears-falling hot-
and the ecosystem destroyed clean-
clings to its last strength
while malicious man continue the strangle:

come with that cup of water
for my flower shivers cold in thirst
bring it and let me water it
else it shall fail and
                      no flower shall my lover gain

Copyright © Gerald Nforche

Details | Free verse | |

Flowers at my Funeral

I don’t want flowers at my funeral
I should add this too my will
What use are they to me when I am dead
I’d prefer them now if I were ill

I love their sheer beauty
This no one can disguise
The scent of a bunch of freesias
Brings tears to my eyes

My favourite flowers are carnations
I’ve loved them since I was a kid
Red, yellow, orange, shades
These colours I love but not on my grave

So when I’m gone and the mourning is over
I’m to be scattered where the four winds blow
Bradda Head is my chosen resting place
It’s a place I’ve often loved to go

Jan Allison
3rd April 2014

Copyright © JAN ALLISON

Details | Ode | |

To a Rose


What colour will you deliver today
On this such a beautiful day?
Wondering what fragrance I shall smell
Only you magnificent presence can tell;
What will the bouquet be
If I have the privilege to see?

When others join in
You’ll blossom into a group
Inducing my thoughts subliminally
To create a splendid coup.

Oh Rose the magnanimous
The hearts in love find momentous;
Playing part in romantic bondage 
In love making you’ll engage;
You are the symbol of love
Of humans and the Lord above;
Ladies melt at your presence
Whether adults or adolescence.

Also a symbol of guilts and betrayals
Unfaithfulness cover by scented petals;
Hypocrite sometimes you are
Sometimes your beauty goes to far; 
In beauty the malice hides away
Causing the guilty, being guiltier going astray.  
In your grace your are vicious
Thorns prick deeply wounds so malicious.
Do you think our naivety won’t realise 
Do you know one your charm we shall despise?

Yet as I am filled with human desire
To be confined in grave or liberated by fire
You’ll be there at my funeral
The last gesture of my portrayal.

No lilies, no poppies, no wreaths
All I want is your dainty presence
So in darkness I wait patiently
To make God’s acquaintance.

Copyright © Alfred Vassallo

Details | Rhyme | |

When Flowers Bloom and Birds Do Fly

If mine heart should speak, let it speak so well; 
For I may not have another time to tell. 
Let me say it straight; let me say it clear, 
It may not be so loud but the deaf can hear. 

It's for the sane to commend me of my views 
And for the fools to take me as a foe; 
For my word shall either be sweet or foul 
But it bears the frankness of my soul. 

The sheer desire for wealth or fame 
I apt no more for all is vain. 
It's good enough for me to see 
That I've lived a life in each passing day. 

When a man is young he's at his best 
And a merry soul has no time to rest. 
But life's like hanging on a ledge 
The soul is weakened at the ripe old age. 

No amount of sleep shall recompense or mend 
Of a good dream lost to awakening; 
So as a speeding star in a tranquil gaze 
That fell so sudden before a wish. 

The time that flies and makes one old 
Burgeons the burdens of an old man's load. 
It shall be heavier when he departs 
If he'll bear the laments of a shattered heart. 

Life is doomed and to cease one day; 
Not a single soul can choose to stay. 
Better pave a way for the saints to stroll 
So that bad old serpent could tempt no more. 

Then for my own sake I'll pray with them 
That my soul be freed from the hell's domain. 
And my heart won't dare to sing again 
Those mournful lines of life's refrain. 

A blissful sunset shall start to thrive 
Nocturnal solace upon my head. 
Then it shall be on the day I die 
When flowers bloom and birds do fly. 

Author:  Jecon B. Nadela 
Date & Time of Writing: 
10 May 2014 ; 2:03pm - 3:21pm 

Thanks God I'm writing again. 

Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Oil Paintings-3

One Big Cracker

Dear God,
I don't know what to write you
I wrote many lines and then scribbled
I know you like neat and tidy things
I have been sitting by the window since morn 
In my grandma's home
You made her alone, remember?
But I visited her daily after school 
She is lonely and keeps waiting for me
She bakes my favourite cookies and cakes
You gifted her with nice hands and thoughts
Two days ago she brought me over for keeps
I didn't go to school today 
My heart is iron heavy and my legs can't carry it
Do you like to take moms and dads
Only on Friday the thirteenth? *
You also took James mother at the same time
Sara was seen crying, she didn't tell me why
I didn't see her playing with her brother next door
Do you have enough room for so many people? 
Granny, Uncle  Mark held my hand at the funeral
Uncle Richard, Aunt Jane hugged and kissed me
Many many people came to wish them goodbye
Granny is old, she placed a letter on their coffin
The graveyard was full of flowers, candles and tears
Mom and Dad were buried together and 
Granny says she also wants to lie with them
But I don't know where my bed is
I thought you would also burst one big cracker at the cemetery**
So that we could all be together with you
God, when are you going to burst the next cracker?

Balveen Cheema
November 15, 2015
Contest: Oil Painting-3
Sponsor: Eve Roper

* Paris terror mayhem on November 13, 2015, is no less than any terrorist attack in the world. Innocents die and families suffer.
** A bomb goes off at a funeral in Baghdad.

Copyright © Balveen Cheema