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Metaphor Funeral Poems | Metaphor Poems About Funeral

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

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Details | Elegy | |

Mother of all

Come when you are ready to love me
And come when you realized more of love
The time when flesh mean nothing than dust
Come when you are ready to see me
Not just pain that paint my solace soul
And when darkness no longer breeds sorrow
Come when you really want pure bliss
And call to whom that bestow blessings
Wait for me as I stagger like a foolish pagan
Come when all sores are wide open
Wide enough for a blind eye to see
Call me before dawn fades my dreams
Light the wisdom of the goddess to this valley
A valley I wander through day and night
Find your vanity before winter wrinkle all sweat
I shall wait to the corner of your heart all night
Visit me more often than you thirst for water
Water my dust with your pure tears
Look for signs to those flourishing flowers
And sing my last rhymes of sweet poetry

Copyright © Zakhe Michael Mcunu

Details | Lyric | |


Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen

Details | Rhyme | |

The Twilight Moor

Gazing out upon dusky barren moor,
Where gray grass grasps the air
Finding no purchase but sad allure
Straight stalks elapse their endless despair.

Teased by tales of golden reach
Tricked by gales, whose song they preach.

Redtail’s velvet wings breach the sky,
Maroon lips who kiss the grass
Stirring the song, its desperate sigh
Catching the words, her beak of crystal glass

Behind her, midnight shadow draws
Fells her beauty with unseen charcoal paws

Scarlet tears dampen the earth below
Nurture the roots held by dusty truth
Finally, the wind, gray grass’ will bestow
The hawk once, now the fountain of youth.

Litany of silence reigns in dusky glare,
Each blade bowed in mournful prayer.

Copyright © Avery Swarthout

Details | Free verse | |

Conspiracy: Who Killed The Easter Bunny

A crowded table, all suspended in shock 
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock

Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable

They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied

Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Elegy | |

A Soldier's Elegy

A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
tranquility gurgles 
through silent valleys
over mountains
around the earth
through the wind

The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
adrenaline overrules
their ambient warning

Gust to gust each fades 
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts

The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird

Two brittle forms 
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
and protects 
what can never be touched
divine oblivion 
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt 
six feet deep.

Copyright © Avery Swarthout

Details | Free verse | |

Her Final Words

"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one. 
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Her sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed. 
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent. 
A meager thought 
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
Her curse.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows, 
"Save them."

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily

Details | Free verse | |

The Bird that is Loved and Loathed

It burns and it stings.
It hurts.
More than drowning beneath 
the ice.
More than remaining in a 
kindled flame
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why? 

It burned and it stung.
The markings remained, 
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little 
known loathing were the known 
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the 
child that cried
Never was their relief for the 
child that tried

You were that lovely bird that 
understood the complications of 
Nothing looked the same in 
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears 
of joy.
The others-they were yet to 
Caring Mother, o' so fair
 You were that beautiful bird 
filled with care.

The others came and were not 
alone. Their two suitors sat on 
the throne.
Rampage and rage why did you 
I began to wither and wither 
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a 
human raceme. 
The droops of the Lily of the 
Valley became the slumping of 
my heart.
My lovely bird the enemy had 
taken you and the person you 
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its 
intricate self and you became 
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
Mother, Mother what moved 
you so? 
Your intense spirt vanished only 
to supplement a monster. 
Mother, Monster and your tar 
filled lungs. 
How did I kill that liver that was 
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you 
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you 
My lovely bird and your big 
brown eyes
I'll tell you once, but never 
Pain is only a flower for it 
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as 
quickly as lice.
 You dear bird hurt me well. 
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest 
You brought me up, then you 
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and 
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you 
down in your deep black 
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights. 

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily

Details | Rhyme | |


The water in my chest,
And my eyes, they burn,
Lungs burst for air,
They are losing all their turn.

My eyes see the light,
That swims in the water,
And as I sink,
My lungs burn hotter.

I try to breathe,
Yet only choke,
I scratch for the surface,
Pray that it be broke.

But I know that I,
Will soon touch sand,
But only beneath the waves,
I will never touch land.

So I close my eyes,
To be engulfed by the dark,
As as i slip away,
Shines bright,  the mark.

The deeper I go,
My dress cling to me,
As I drown,
To the bottomless sea.


Details | Rhyme | |


living not unto this world,
where vices and habits thee hold!
to walk in unsure path,
never too narrow nor too straight.
to do what is right,
even though it sometimes is out of sight.
to do what is just,
even though it can trouble you about!
holding unto your faith,
even though there's pain.
suffering that shows strength,
working and living a true calling.
seeking with direction,
goals with just foundations.
true sacrifices with no malice intentions:
justified and righteous,
that even though it hurts,
just going out of your way to help,
enough just to be called Christians with true righteous answers.

Copyright © Donn Ronquillo

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

Details | Senryu | |

Remains appalling

golden grave diggers                                                                                                  they never will earn enough                                                                                    ghoulish disrespect                                                                                            -            -Thieves try to steal Sigmund Freud's ashes

Copyright © John Beam

Details | Free verse | |

A Silent Wedding

Marriage is a funeral with music,
And death is a silent wedding,
Divorce is a sad journey,
With a one way ticket and no return,
Beauty ages with time,
And becomes ugly,
Body flesh loosens,
Dies and rottens,
But voice comes from a soul,
And this is rightly eternal,
So live by decree and endorse it
On this parchment, and leave
Something behind,
That one day, 
One will remember you,
When your words, voice is mentioned.

Copyright © Abder Derradji