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Funeral Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Funeral

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

A Twist in Time

As I stand here in front of my closet , starring in to the space...
I wonder which black dress to choose, and how I am going to face..
All the guests that will be there , at your final resting place...
I look in the mirror and what do I see ?
But cuts and scratches all over me...
Although I don’t feel any physical pain...
Oh, what’s that I hear ?..could it be rain ?
I miss you already...what went wrong ?..
We were driving along just listening to our favorite song...
I remember the curve on that old mountain road...
And then heard the train crash... and then explode...
Time to go called out my Mother...
It was a cold November morning, and very heavy rain...
And I swear I heard the whistle of a train...
As I looked around I could see...
So many friends and family...
Standing in the crowd was Aunt Sarah and Uncle Fred...
OMG ! I thought they were dead...
And there’s dear old Michael...
I had heard he crashed his motorcycle...
All of a sudden I saw YOU stand...
With a bright red rose, you held in your hand...
What are you doing I wanted to shout...
But then I realized what you were about...
You dropped the rose upon MY grave...
It was then I realized You were the one that was saved...


Details | Prose Poetry |

Grandad's Missing

There's a void, now
Where once a steadfast heart beat time
The soul in perfect harmony with life's uncertain pulse
With those who clambered eagerly in solace or in joy
To scale that mighty pinnacle
The Rock, within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
But marvel at the structure, the firmness of the ground beneath
The strata richly layered with wisdom of generations past
A fault free seam constructing firm foundations
Binding those within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
A hollow cavern 
echoing the anger and the pain
Trust time; it has no fear of finite elements
The source of unremitting pain
Within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
So fill the emptiness and catalogue the memories
Harvesting the richness of their meaning
The fullness of the seed sown long ago
To bloom forever within the bosom of the family


Details | Prose Poetry |

Mort De La Mort, The Death Of Death

There is something intoxicating about the absolute stillness of night
I am most at home, at ease, the tell-tale heart of a vampire
Indeed, I have never been anything but, born into this life a demon
Spawned into this life by hate and resentment

I have fed upon everyone I have ever known, everyone I can ever remember
All that was human in those around me, seldom have I not destroyed

I have been merciless, I have been death

 

Tonight, the hunter becomes the hunted and who would have known it
Magnificent a creature, a natural born killer, meeting her bloody demise

What was a heart of stone has now started beating to the sound of human dreams

I can only thirst for one thing, with satisfaction impossible elsewhere

Him, my reaper donned in perfect flesh
A powerful being that has broken me so entirely, I have been forced into mortality
I am a mere shadow of the monster I used to be

 

The tragedy that is seeing life with the hearts eyes, I offer myself to him completely.

I will not move, I will not run and I will not hide

Tear me to pieces like I have torn all I have ever encountered, I yearn for it

Every cell in my body begs for our final dance, the Waltz to my own demise
Now, to look upon you would be worth a thousand deaths, and I invite them all
Find me, take me, end me.
I will rest in the memory of your flawless face for eternity, as hell welcomes me with
open arms.


Details | Prose Poetry |

I Love You

The memories, they do nothing less than kill me now,
every one comes bearing arms and how they shoot!
Never missing and always aimed, right at my heart.
I am forever throwing myself before the firing squad.
Oh, how I can barely believe I ever held you, you of all the stars!
Those nights feel less and less real as the days goes on without you.
No amount of lifetimes however, can erase the fingerprints you left behind.
The way you sang to me, the songs you wrote, that guitar.
I was convinced my heart was growing wings, ready to fly out of my chest!
The time when you kissed my scars, every one, you kissed them all.
Named me your patchwork perfection, and I rested easy in my skin,
for the first time, in all my decades of existence.
I close my eyes to see that cherub face, it smiles at me still.
The same smile I fell into deeply, head over heel,
the first night we met amidst the first lights of twilight.
My god, how he crafted you with all the love in the world.
You radiated of it!
Still my skin glows, with the colours of your soul, eternal.
They may have taken your body away from me, but your heart,
our hearts...I still feel you inside mine. Tightly entwined.
I often wonder if I will ever be able to love another,
it's been years and the tears still stain my face with longing of you.
If only I could give up everything, all of it means nothing in comparison.
Reality tells me there are no deals I can make, no offer that won't be refused.
Well, these murderous memories, I will hold on to them for eternity
since they are all I have left.
Thankfully, I have learned to love the pain.
The exquisite pain that was born of losing you,
and now takes the form of my bullet riddled heart.

I love you.


Details | Prose Poetry |

SCOFFING LOVE

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````March 27, 2013
Vicki Acquah




WHICH WITTY POEM
 DID YOU INSPIRE IN ME,
WHAT SINCERE PRAISE
 DID YOU GIVE MY WORDS
WHEN I THOUGHT 
ENOUGH OF YOU
SEND A POEM YOUR WAY.
WHICH LINE DID YOU WRITE WITH
MY SPIRIT SURROUNDING YOU
.
WHAT SONG DID YOU SING WHEN
YOU THOUGHT OF MY NAME
WHY DID YOU SAY YOU LOVED ME.
WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MAKE YOU SMILE,
HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HEAD ANYHOW
.
WHAT PART OF ME DID YOU AROUSE.
WHY DO I SAY I LOVE YOU.?
WERE YOU SINCERE WHEN YOU SAID "AMEN"
TO THE WISDOM THAT I SHARED
WERE YOU ONE OF THOSE WHO THOUGHT
YOUR MOCKING,WAS MORE VALUABLE
THAN COMPLIANCE.
 
 I HAVE LIVED WITH THE
RESENTMENTS OF SCOFFERS.
I DIGEST YOUR RESPONSE WITH A GULP..
I THOUGHT SO MUCH BETTER OF YOU.
 
I DO NOT HAVE A REAL CLUE-AS TO WHY YOU
WOULD BE THE ONE TO UNDERMINE
AND SCOFF AT LOVE-WITH SNIDE REMARKS
OF FALSE PRIDE;
I WAS CALLED TO THIS THRONE
YOU SEEK TO BANISHING ME FROM.
 
HOWEVER THIS can NEVER BE DONE,
NO MAN CAN PUT ASUNDER
WHAT WAS SET IN MOTION
BY THE HIGHER LAWS OF NATURE
 
I SPEAK OF THE ILLS IN SOCIETY
I SPEAK OF FALSE REALITIES.
WHAT YOU DIDN'T SAY HOLDS FAST INSIDE.
I SAW WHAT YOU DIDN'T DO,
AND WONDER WHY.
 
IN-SPITE OF YOUR MOCKERY
I STILL HAVE A LOVE INSIDE OF ME
THAT ADORES THE GREATNESS IN YOU
EVEN IF YOU CHOOSE TO UNDERMINE
THIS ONLY BOTHERS ME
BECAUSE OF THE EFFECT 
IT WILL HAVE ON YOU
 
ONLY MY FRIENDS WHO ARE GENUINE,
WILL CONTINUE TO RIDE ON MY CLOUD NINE.
RECEIVING NO THREATS, AS
HUMAN I BE, HUMAN I AM 
WITH THE ATTRIBUTES OF
GODDESSES AND MAN
 
TAKE WHAT YOU LIKE AND LEAVE THE REST.
BECAUSE OF THE WORTH I SEE IN YOU .
BECAUSE OF THE WORTH I SEE IN YOU .
THAT'S WHY I SO PERFECTLY ...TOLERATE YOU .
AND OF COURSE WHAT IS LEFT 
NEED NOT BE DISTURBED AT BEST
 
ONE DAY YOU WILL FIGURE THINGS OUT,
ONE DAY YOU WILL KNOW WHY
I SHARED A PART OF MY LIFE WITH YOU .
ONE DAY YOU WILL SEE
THE VALUES THATS BEEN  PLACE IN ME
.
BECAUSE OF THE MIRACLE--
OF LOVE AND FATE COMBINED
ONE DAY REASON WILL COMPLY
WITH YOUR FINITE MIND.
I KNOW WHO I AM EVEN 
THOUGH YOU DON'T
YOU DO NOT RIDE ON MY RHYTHM
OR STEP TO MY DRUMBEAT.
 
BUT STILL you will -TWEAK TO MY HEARTBEAT.
YET MORE WILL BE UNDERSTOOD BYE AND BYE..
AND FOR THOSE WHO FEEL,AND
APPRECIATE EACH OTHERS POETRY or story                                                      
EVENTUALLY ...THE reason will BE REVEALED
 
SO... WHEN THE SLIPPERY HAND OF HOPE IS
EXTENDED UNTO YOU
REACH UP AND GRAB IT
MAKE SURE YOUR GRIP IS FIRM.
 
BECAUSE WHO KNOWS 
WHY SCOFFERS SCOFF 
WHEN LOVE SPEAKS OUT OF CONCERN 
JUST BE PATIENT AND WAIT
SINCERITY AND LOVE
NEVER NEEDS DEFENDING .
ALL YOU LESS CALLOUS , 
WHO SEEK UNDERSTANDING
AS OPPOSED TO MALICE
 
I WILL JUST WAIT AT THE MOUNTAIN TOP  
ONE DAY WITH OPEN EYES YOU'LL COME
THE SLACKERS SHALL JOIN US THERE. 
NO NEED TO COMPARE,WE ALL NEED PRAYER
 
AS LONG AS WE ARE NOT STUCK IN RUTS
OR ON THE SLIPPERY SLOPE OF CONTEMPT 
AS LONG AS WE WHO HOLD THE ROPE 
ARE WILLING TO PULL OUR BROTHERS UP
WITH OUR WORDS,THE POETS WORDS  
THE MESSAGE FOR THE MASSES IS HOPE..
.
SO I LIVE FOR THE POEMS YOU SEND MY WAY 
FOR I GROW STRONG IN OUR RELATIONSHIP 
SAILED BY THE WINDS OF YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT
TO MY POETS MY TRUE FRIENDS,
I TRULY KNOW WHO YOU ARE, and...
DON'T EVER THINK I DON'T.              

  EVENTUALLY ...THE MEANING OF THINGS WILL 
BE REVEALED, SO... WHO KNOWS WHY SCOFFERS 
SCOFF WHEN EVER LOVE SPEAKS OUT.
 JUST BE PATIENT AND WAIT, SINCERITY AND LOVE
 NEVER NEEDS DEFENDING 

.ALL YOU LESS CALLOUS PEOPLE,WHO SEEK 
UNDERSTANDING AS OPPOSED TO MALICE, JUST WAIT
 AT THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN. 
ONE DAY WITH OPEN EYES 
THE SLACKERS SHALL JOIN YOU THERE. 
NO NEED TO COMPARE,WE ALL NEED PRAYER,
AS LONG AS WE ARE NOT STUCK ON THE
SLIPPERY SLOPE, OF CONTEMPT , 
AS LONG AS WE WHO HOLD THE ROPE
 ARE WILLING TO PULL OUR BROTHER UP

WITH OUR WORDS,THE POETS WORDS :
 THE MESSAGE FOR THE MASSES IS HOPE..
.SO I LIVE FOR THE POEMS YOU SEND MY WAY,

 FOR I GROW STRONG IN OUR RELATIONSHIP 

BY THE WINDS OF YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT,

TO MY POETS MY TRUE FRIENDS

,I TRULY KNOW WHO YOU ARE,
 DON'T EVER THINK I DON'T.


Details | Prose Poetry |

A true best friend

Murder.

My soul's contaminated with spit
and you walk all over me- 
each and every single time-
It's like I blink 
and you take one more slap
whack!
While my face red spurs out guilt of being a victim-
the one who always to blame
who is always wrong
and does wrong-
while you look down to me 
expecting.
It's neverending
and i'm unsympathetic as we speak.
Now so vulnerable and familiar to your cursed speech
lucifer's lies-
becoming true between the lies
you just start the fire.
You don't know how to put it out,
gassing it, lighter at hand 
yet you don't seem to care.
And my emotions,
they're toys-
broken, stomped on,
crushed.
Like my loyalty is not enough,
after I stand behind you,
strong and neutral-
while you whip my heart
and test me some more.
I've had enough.
And you've had plenty of chances before,
plenty of criticizing 
and it's too much,
 i'm not good enough
I'm the "bad" friend
i'm just not worth your time
so this is the end.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Twist In Time

 As I stand here in front of my closet , starring in to the space...
I wonder which black dress to choose, and how I am going to face..
All the guests that will be there, at your final resting place...
I look in the mirror and what do I see  ?
But cuts and scratches all over me...
Although I don’t feel any physical pain...
Oh, what’s that I hear?... could it be rain ?
I miss you already...just what went wrong ?..
We were driving along just listening to our favorite song...
I remember the curve on that old mountain road...
And then heard the train crash... and then explode...
Time to go called out my Mother...
It was a cold November morning, and very heavy rain...
And I swear I heard the whistle of a train...
As I looked around I could see...
So many friends and family...
Standing in the crowd was Aunt Sarah and Uncle Fred...
OMG  ! I thought they were dead...
And there’s dear old Michael...
I had heard he crashed his motorcycle...
All of a sudden I saw YOU stand...
With a bright red rose, you held in your hand...
What are you doing I wanted to shout...
But then I realized what you were about...
You dropped the rose upon MY grave...
It was then I realized... You  were the one, that was saved...


Details | Prose Poetry |

A Dove

A Dove
 
We said :What are  all those  feathers ?
When  we walked  for  the funeral of the kid . 
His father raised  his hand ,
 picked up a feather
 and  cried :This is the word "a dove"
He learned  to say since two days. 
we forget to take it out of his mouth .



.........................................
The poem by :Maithem Radhi (Iraqi Poet )
Translated by : Laith Seher


Details | Prose Poetry |

Gator Bait Series 1st Cold Snapped

The wind was blowing when she left the city...

I believe it was twenty below...

Where she was going she already knew...

But... first she had things she had to do...

Get rid of the body that was clear....

There were no options, it had to disappear....

The heater was broken and blowing cold air...

She could feel the ice, building up in her hair..

She had cleaned up the blood as best she could...

As she had hit him hard with that log of wood...

All she had asked him, was to light a fire...

To take off the chill in the house....

Do it yourself if you are cold...he snapped

And while you’re at it get me a cold beer...from the fridge..




It was early morning when she finally arrived at the bridge..

This was his favourite fishing spot...

She pushed his body off the pier...along with his ice cold beer..

And suddenly began to shiver and sneeze.....

Oh well, she said...this too shall pass..

When I get to the Florida Keys..


PS..this is the first in a series..watch for part 2.."gator bait..the dream "










Details | Prose Poetry |

Gone and hopefully permanently forgotten

By Stanley Collymore

Never speak ill of the dead we’re constantly and solemnly
exhorted regardless of who they are or the life that
they freely chose to live, as they’re no longer
around, is the lame and unconvincing excuse
that’s often and dishonestly given in explanation, to rebut or
defend their name, any accusations or adverse criticisms,
however concrete or valid they might be, being made
against them; and in those circumstances therefore
to then embark on such a plan would in itself be
quite unbecoming while serving as nothing
more than a cheap and cowardly way of
attempting to exact one’s own revenge.

But hang on a moment, how truly valid is this
simplistic and supposedly moral exhortation; and why
should the intervention of death, distinct from any
other known phenomenon, be the sole exculpation for
someone’s life-long sins and premeditated wrongdoings
that disparagingly have callously, schemingly,
perniciously, quite methodically and comprehensively
destroyed the lives of so many who were
exclusively picked on and especially targeted for
reasons of dogmatic political ideology, or
those specifically and illogically
associated with their race
or ethnicity.

I was never a miner viewed as the country’s low-life and
thusmalevolently castigated as the enemy within, but
I am and have longstandingly been a proud trade
unionist whose movement just as
viciously by this self-centred,
venal and privileged elite was likewise tarred
with the same condemnatory brush and
scandalously branded the same.

Similarly, I was an anti-apartheid activist firmly
committed, as I always will be, to the noble concept
globally of the universality of human rights, equality
for all human beings and the ultimate eradication
of racism, tirelessly working also in tandem
for freedom of expression by everyone,
genuine democracy and the lawful and
moral right to withhold one’s labour,
and particularly so in manufactured industrial
disputes specifically designed to disrupt the cohesion,
deliberately break-up and ruthlessly destroy the
bargaining rights of all trade unions. 

So why would I, or anyone else for that matter
with a social conscience, want to actually
eulogize and not rightly despise someone who,
while together with their husband was
profiting massively financially from South Africa’s
apartheid system, none the less perversely saw fit
to label Nelson Mandela a terrorist and roundly
vilify the ANC as a terrorist organization, while
astonishingly and without a modicum of regret
laud the architects of apartheid and the
ardent supporters of institutionalized
racism as the veritable champions of
what they deem as democracy?

Unless, of course, such individuals have short or convenient
memories and are themselves a complete abomination of what
society, which we were told by this woman doesn’t exist,
or come to that humanity should actually represent!
So I’ve no apologies to make or will I relent from
the stance I’ve taken because Death, inevitable
to us all, has finally, and some would
justifiably say, long-sufferingly and somewhat
kindly stepped in and brought the life of yet
another tyrant to its end. So feel free those of you
who want to eulogize or even dress yourself up
in sackcloth and ashes if you wish amidst your contrived beating
of chests and sorrowful refrains; but in doing so, I’d like for
you in your unrestrained orgy of engineered anguish
and false grief to jointly entreat you to abstain
from ever doing any of this in my name.

© Stanley V. Collymore
12 April 2013.

In the midst of life there is death the great leveller of us all. We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. So what doth it profit a man or woman if in their life time they gain all the riches of the world yet lose their soul for eternity? The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the Name of the Lord.


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